Feeling Blue

Blue cheese makes me feel like a grown up.  Until very recently, I couldn't even look at a hunk o' blue without surpressing a shudder.  You see, blue cheese is riddled with mold, and I've been phobic of mold ever since I unwittingly popped a piece of pre-cut supermarket canteloupe into my mouth only to find--after I began chewing--that it was covered in four layers of fuzz.  But somewhere, somehow, I recovered from my trauma, my tastebuds matured and I overcame my aversion.  Oh happy day!  Now I lick blue cheese off my fingers like it was frosting.  I'd rather have blue cheese than ice cream.  And this blue cheese dressing satisfies my every craving.

Easy Blue Cheese Dressing

Serves 2

2 T mayonnaise

2 T plain yogurt

1/2 tsp. cider vinegar

few dashes of hot pepper sauce

2 oz. blue cheese, more or less

Whisk together the first four ingredients.  Stir in blue cheese.  Pour liberally over salad greens and sliced tomato.  Crumbled bacon would taste good too.  Sprinkle with additional blue cheese and freshly ground black pepper.

Trio of Tastes

Crostini are one of my dinner party staples, served either as hors d'oeuvres, or as a first course.  Tonight, they were my dinner, and a tasty one, too.  They are: Goat Cheese Crostini with Blood Orange and Black Pepper Marmalade, zucchini and almond crostini (isnpired by the fabulous Red Cat recipe), and roasted garlic and white bean puree with smoked paprika.  The white bean puree was just okay--the splash of sherry vinegar I added in lieu of lemon juice just didn't work.  The zucchini and almonds were begging for shards of pecorino on top--I forgot to pick it up at the market.  But the blood orange marmalade was divine, truly the best thing you will make in ten minutes.  I am already looking forward to having it for breakfast tomorrow on toast.

Beating the Blahs

Every year, right around February, I start wishing I was anywhere but here. I don't even know how I got to work this morning, so lost was I in a fantasy about swapping my apartment for one in Barcelona. Let's see, a stylish, fully equipped and furnished luxury duplex with a sunny, private terrace overlooking Plaza Catalunya for my two bedroom filled with cat hair overlooking a gravel parking lot.  I don't think so.

That's when it's nice to be a cook. I pulled my copy of Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking off the shelf, et voila, I was on my way to Provence. "For decades, this has been the Monday special at La Mere Besson, a traditional family bistro in the sun-drenched city of Cannes," Wells writes about the recipe for Estouffade Provencale, or Provencal Beef Stew. Take me there! Please!

Provided you plan ahead, this is the easiest recipe you will ever make.  For me, it began with a beautiful boneless beef chuck roast from Eight O'Clock Ranch. 

After cutting it into chunks, add a bottle of red wine--from Provence, of course. Go ahead, squander the

entire bottle on just one recipe.  After an entire month of tedium punctuated by boredom you will feel sort of wanton and extravagant and maybe even a little...French!

 
The meat, along with some vegetables, fresh thyme and bay leaves, "ripens" in the refrigerator for two days.  After that, you pull the pot out of the fridge, plop it on the burner, and allow it to percolate for 3-4 hours while you try to keep from fishing out chunks of it before its time. The best part is the orange zest you stir in right before serving--it turns this dark, delicious stew into something bright and a little exotic.
 
 

When it's finished, help yourself to a warm, satisfying bowl, and be sure to thank God for putting you exactly where you are.

Estouffade Provencale

From Bistro Cooking

2 1/2 lbs. stewing beef, cut into 1 1/2 inch chunks

2 medium onions, coarsely chopped

2 garlic cloves, crushed

1 carrot, peeled and cut in rounds

1 celery rib, minced

salt and freshly ground pepper

2 T extra virgin olive oil

1 bottle of red wine, preferable Provencal

1 bunch fresh thyme leaves

3 imported bay leaves

1 strip of orange zest, about 2 inches, chopped

1.  Two days before serving the stew, combine all of the ingredients except orange zest in a large enameled casserole.  Cover and refrigerate overnight.

2.  The next day, bring the mixture to a simmer over low heat.  Simmer gently, until the meat is very tender, 3 to 4 hours.

3.  Allow the stew to cool down.  Refrigerate until the fat rises to the top and can be scraped off, about 12 hours.

4.  At serving time, reheat until meat is heated through, 10-15 minutes.  Adjust seasonings.  To serve, remove bay leaves and thyme; stir in orange zest.

Makes 8 servings

Sunday Supper

I've found myself drifting back to the basics lately, which brings me to Joy of Cooking, probably the first cookbook I ever read--and I do mean read--as in, cover to cover.  I have the 1997 edition, which still manages to maintain that quaint, coversational tone despite modern inclusions like Tomato Jalepeno Chilaquiles and Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup.  I bookmarked Sunday Supper Fishcakes because they sounded so delightfully old-fashioned, and because cod is cheaper than crab, and because--hey--it's Sunday, and I wanted something tasty for supper. 

All began well.  The fish mixture came together in a snap.  The accompanying horseradish sauce was cool and creamy, yet bracing.   Then it came time to "shape into 8 cakes, pressing the ingredients firmly together."  Well, I pressed and pressed and all I got was a pile of ingredients.  So I cursed Joy, and I cursed myself for ignoring the headnote recommending I use "some of a more oily fish,' and I cursed the fishcakes for good measure--and all this before church!  Then I turned two slices of white bread to crumbs in the food processor, added them to the mix, and taking a cue from the Bible, allowed the fishcakes to rest for ten minutes.

That did the trick!

Served with the sauce, they made a perfectly respectable Sunday supper.

Rainbows and Peace Signs

It's Regents week, which means regular classes are cancelled, and no high school students are on the premises.  As teachers, our only job other than the odd proctoring assignment is to make ourselves scarce in our rooms.  There was a two hour stretch today where I did not speak. To anyone.  It was bliss. It was peace.  It was zen.  To honor the experience, I made my version of Nina Simonds' Rainbow Peanut Noodles from her excellent book, Asian Noodles, for dinner.

Here is the Chinese Peanut Dressing.  Doesn't it look serene? 

Here is the salad, made with soba noodles instead of the linguine Simonds suggests.  Did you know soba noodles are a whole grain?  They are made from buckwheat and are highly nutritious, full of fiber, protein, magnesium and many other nutrients.  And they don't have the taste and texture of cardboard!  They just taste sort of nutty.

Rainbow Peanut Noodles

1/2 lb. soba noodles, cooked until tender (four and a half minutes), rinsed in cold water and drained

1 large carrot, peeled and grated

1 persian cucumber, thinly sliced

1 small red pepper, julienned

1 handful of snowpeas, de-stringed and cut in thirds lengthwise

3 scallions, thinly sliced into rings

Chinese Peanut Dressing

1 1/4 inch thick slice of fresh ginger, peeled and cut in half

2 small cloves of garlic, peeled

1 tsp chile garlic paste

1/4 c. smooth peanut butter

handful of peanuts, if you happen to have them around

1/8 cup soy sauce

1 1/2 T sugar

1 1/2 T Chinese black vinegar or Worcestershire sauce

1 1/2 T toasted sesame oil

For Dressing:

Finely chop ginger and garlic in a food processor.  Add remaining ingredients and blend until smooth.  Add water to thin, if necessary.

For Salad:

Toss everything together with dressing.  Or make it pretty, like a rainbow, then toss it together with the dressing. 

Serves 3

Desperation Dinner

A freezer ready meal is a working mom's best friend.  However, ever since I read Michael Pollan's book--you know which one--and subsequently ditched the Lean Cuisines (I still jump when I see the sign in the supermarket: 4 for $12!), my freezer is full of Belle and Evans chicken parts, grass fed meat, whole wheat flour and not much else.  Not exactly the makings of a desperation dinner.

Then I had a brainstorm.  What about a frozen burrito, like the kind they have at Trader Joe's?  So I whipped up a batch for dinner, deliberately making extra for the freezer. 

Don't you just love tomato paste in the tube?  Forget Kindle, here is real progress.  I flavored two cans of pinto beans with two tablespoons of paste, onions, garlic, chili powder and cumin. 

Then I toasted some flour tortillas over my stove's open flame.

I piled each tortilla with a generous spoonful of beans, some leftover rice from the fridge, and some grated cheddar cheese.  The picture does not do it justice.  It was really good, especially with sour cream and salsa.  The only thing missing is cilantro.  Next time.

And here they are...freezer ready.  Like money in the bank!

Vegetarian Bean Burritos

1 medium onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 medium japeno, chopped

2 T olive oil

1 tsp. cumin, more to taste

1 tsp. chili powder, more to taste

1 1/2 T. tomato paste

2 cans of pinto beans (15 oz.), drained and rinsed

a handful of chpped cilantro

1 c. cooked rice (could be brown rice, I guess)

6 oz. shredded cheddar or monterey jack cheese

6 burrito sized flour tortillas

salsa and sour cream for serving

1.  Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat.  Saute onions, garlic, jalepeno, chile powder, cumin and a good pinch of salt until golden, about 10 minutes.  Add tomato paste and cook a minute or so more. 

2.  Add beans and 1 c. of water, bring to boil, reduce heat to medium and simmer, stirring occasionally until thickened, about 10 minutes.  Remove from heat.  Stir in cilantro.

3.  If you have a gas stove, toast tortillas. 

4.  Fill with bean mixture, rice, and cheese.  Fold and serve. 

To Freeze:  Wrap in plastic wrap, then aluminium foil.  To reheat: Nuke for 1 1/2 to 2 minutes straight from freezer, then bake in 350 degree oven for 12 minutes.  I think you can just microwave them, too--perfect for a work lunch!

Weird Craving

While the rest of the modern world is busy getting their post New Year's diet on, I find myself craving...a chimichanga.  Which is weird because I can't remember when or where I might have had one before.  But there is definitely a chimichanga lodged in my memory bank.  It is crispy and corny and wickedly greasy and good.  But how to make one?  An Internet search turned up plenty of recipes--but these were corpulent specimens, more like fried burritos than the crunchy little cigars I remember from somewhere.  Typing in "skinny chimichangas" was no help either--you wouldn't believe how many "diet" versions of chimis there are out there! Who in their right mind wants to eat a Weight Watchers chimichanga?
 

So, I invented my own.  The filling was easy enough--sauteed tomatoes, onions, garlic, yellow peppers, and chopped roasted chicken seasoned with cumin, chili powder and oregano, with a healthy amount of cilantro stirred in at the end.  Filling the tortillas was more of a challenge--they kept cracking, even after I took Emeril's suggestion and nuked them for a few seconds under a damp paper towel.  Eventually, I ended up twice frying them--first dipping them in hot oil for a few seconds per side until pliable, then filling and rolling them, then frying them a second time until golden brown. 

Okay, so maybe they are a little plumper than they should be...but so am I.  Happy New Year!