Blog Entries

 

Potluck Dinners

In lieu of a well-thought-out and researched topic for tonight, how about an old-fashioned potluck dinner? When I was a kid, potlucks always meant church suppers or family reunions. They always involved homemade fried chicken, potato salad, my grandmother's seven-layer salad (which was ostensibly a garden salad but somehow seemed to have more mayonnaise, green peas, and shredded cheese than anything), and someone always brought a salad/dessert hybrid thing made with green Jello and fruit cocktail and Dream Whip (powdered precursor to Cool Whip and just as vile). The fried chicken was always good, though. Sometimes there was chocolate cake. And lemonade. I remember, too, a time when we'd just moved to a new neighborhood and joined a new church and were invited to the Wednesday night potluck supper. I was married and working and had two small babies, but I arranged to take off early from work that first Wednesday afternoon to go home and make a recipe from my grandmother's mayonnaise repertoire:

Potluck Chicken Broccoli Casserole

• 3 packages frozen chopped broccoli, thawed
• cooked, chopped meat from 1 chicken
• 3 cans cream of mushroom soup
• 1 cup Hellman's mayonnaise
• 1 cup sharp Cheddar cheese, shredded
• 1 stack of saltine crackers

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Place thawed chopped broccoli in an even layer over the bottom of a large flat casserole dish. Place chicken. chopped in bitesize pieces, over broccoli. 2. Mix soup, mayonnaise, and 3/4 cup cheese together. Spoon evenly over broccoli and chicken. 3. Top with remaining 1/4 cup of cheese. Smash crackers to crumbs and sprinkle crumbs over cheese. 4. Bake at 350° for about an hour. Serve hot or room temperature; keeps well for a couple of hours. Serves a crowd, at least 8 full-size portions.

(Rereading this recipe now, I feel faintly queasy. However!) I took my casserole in its approved little calico carrier () to the parish hall, arriving in time to set my dish on the big table with the others. Imagine my astonishment -- and outraged sense of betrayal! -- to see a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken on the table! And next to it, potato salad from the grocery store deli!! In its original little container!!!! I was incensed that people would cheat like that! The next Wednesday, I stopped after work and picked up brownies from the bakery as my contribution. I learn fast. Years later, I joined an art critique group that met once a month for -- yes -- potluck lunches. By this time, though, I knew enough about food that neither bakery offerings nor Grandmother's Mayonnaise Delights would do. I dinked around for a while before coming up with this giant vegetarian summer sandwich as my contribution, which was (ahem) considerably more well-received than the mayonnaise casserole. Leave out the anchovies if you don't eat fish or don't like the taste.

Summer Messy Picnic Sandwich

• 2 medium zucchini
• 2 small eggplants (I like Rosa Biancas)
• 1 sweet onion
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/2 cup roughly chopped fresh basil
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• salt and pepper to taste
• 10 sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil, coarsely chopped (or about 3 fresh ones, in season)
• 2 oil-packed anchovies, coarsely chopped
• 1 large loaf French bread

1. Preheat the oven to 425°. Cut the zucchini lengthwise into thin slices and place in large bowl. Cut the eggplant and onion in half lengthwise, then crosswise into very thin slices and add to bowl. Add the garlic and half the basil. Drizzle with 4 tablespoons of the oil, then season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss until well mixed and coated.
2. Transfer the vegetables to 2 large baking sheets. Roast, stirring and turning every 5 minutes, until very soft, 25 to 35 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly.
3. Combine the tomatoes and anchovies with the remaining basil in a blender. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil and process until chunky, adding more oil to make a spreadable paste.
4. Slice the baguette lengthwise, leaving one side hinged. Hollow out the center of each side, leaving a retaining wall all around. Spread both sides lightly with the tomato-anchovy mixture. Carefully lay the roasted vegetable mixture evenly in the hollow.
5. Carefully close the top half of the bread. Using a spatula, press any protruding vegetables back into the sandwich. Wrap in waxed paper and tie at 2-inch intervals. Top the sandwich with cast-iron skillets or other heavy weights and let it stand at least 1 hour to compact. To serve, use serrated knife to cut into thick slices.

Serves about 8. Pack plenty of large napkins.

Time for dinner! Who brought dessert?

 

Sweet Temptation

Wednesday is Valentine's Day. What better way to tempt your sweetheart for the evening's main course (so to speak) than with a romantic dinner and dessert? Sweet temptation, indeed.

 

The menu:

- Salad of sliced avocados with balsamic vinegar - Roasted Asparagus - Baked fish with Honey-Mustard Sauce - Chocolate-dipped Strawberries

Here's why I chose each of these for your sensuous Valentine's dinner.
 

Avocado: The Aztecs called the avocado tree Ahuacuatl or "testicle tree" because the fruit hanging in pairs on the tree resembled the male's testicles. Slice and serve with a drizzle of balsalmic vinegar as a simple appetizer.

 

Asparagus: This is a straightforward example of sympathetic magic. The shape is certainly suggestive, don't you think? Roasted Asparagus 1/2 pound fresh asparagus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil Kosher salt to taste Preheat oven to 500°. Wash and trim asparagus. Place in a single layer in roasting pan. Brush with oil and sprinkle with salt. Roast the asparagus in upper third of oven until tender, approximately 10 to 12 minutes. Serves 2.

Asparagus is high in vitamins A and C and is undoubtedly delicious. However, for a sizable portion of the population, eating asparagus has a peculiar effect: in the inimitable words of Benjamin Franklin, "a few stems of asparagus eaten shall give our urine a disagreeable odor." Approximately half of the people tested possessed a gene placing them among the - ahem - fragrant group. To add to the complexity, there's a different gene which seems to control the ability to smell the resulting sulfur compounds. If you and your lover are in both the group that processes the sulfur compounds and those who can smell them, perhaps it would be wiser to substitute fresh green beans. They can be roasted in exactly the same way and taste delicious without the side effects.

Honey: Honey, known as an aphrodisiac since the fifth century BC, is rich in B vitamins (needed for testosterone production) as well as boron (helps the body metabolize and use estrogen). Some studies have suggested that it may also enhance blood levels of testosterone. n ancient Persia, couples drank mead every day for a month (known as the "honey month" -- a.k.a. "honeymoon") after they married in order to promote fertility. Mustard: Like chiles, ginger, and other spicy foods, the heat of mustard was thought to stimulate the sexual organs and promote desire.

 

Baked Fish with Honey Mustard Sauce - 2 catfish fillets (or other mild white fish) - 1½ tablespoons honey - 1½ tablespoons Dijon mustard - 1½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice - 3/4 cup fresh breadcrumbs - ½ teaspoon dried thyme - salt - ground black pepper 1. Preheat oven to 375°. 2. Rinse the fillets and pat dry; set aside. 3. In a shallow bowl, whisk together the honey, mustard, and lemon juice. 4. In a separate shallow bowl, combine the bread crumbs with the thyme and add a few shakes of salt and pepper. 5. Dip each fillet into the honey-mustard sauce and then dredge it in the bread crumb mixture to coat both sides evenly. 6. Place the fillets in a sprayed or lightly oiled baking pan and bake, uncovered, for 20-30 minutes, or until thoroughly hot and tender. Serves 2.

All of this, of course, is mere preparation for the dessert:
 

Chocolate: Chocolate, originally found in the South American rainforests, was called "food of the gods" by the Mayans. Rumor has it that the Aztec ruler Montezuma drank 50 goblets of chocolate each day to enhance his sexual abilities. Chocolate has been found to contain two naturally-occurring "feel good" chemicals, phenylethylamine and serotonin, which are released by the brain when we feel happy or are in love. Strawberries: Another case of sympathetic magic, strawberries have been called "fruit nipples." Feeding them to your lover can be a sensuous experience. Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries - 8 ounces high-quality chocolate - about 15 large strawberries 1. Carefully wash and thoroughly dry the strawberries; refrigerate them until time to dip them. The fruit must be completely dry and chilled. 2. Spread a sheet of waxed paper or parchment paper on which to cool the berries. 3. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler and try to keep it just cooler than body temperature (86° - 88¼ if you have a candy thermometer) while you are working. 4. Dip each strawberry about two-thirds into the melted chocolate. Allow excess to drip off and place on paper to cool. Serves 2.

If you would rather not fool with dipping your own chocolates, a number of companies make high-quality chocolates truffles and other candies. These are from Godiva, but other recommended chocolatiers include - Blue Frog Chocolates in New Orleans; - Cocoapelli Chocolates in Natick, Massachusetts; - Ethel's Chocolate Lounge, with several locations near Chicago; - Harry and David; - Sharffenbeger in San Francisco; - Jacque Torres' in Brooklyn. I must make a major confession here. I asked a number of friends and acquaintances to recommend chocolatiers because... ... I don't like chocolate. After purchasing and taste-testing about $50.00 worth of expensive chocolate for this article, I can say that I still am not tempted by "chocolate" in general. However, I did like Godiva's Sugar-Free Dark Chocolate bar; it was neither too sweet nor too bitter. And Green and Black's Organic White Chocolate (yes, I know, it's not really chocolate since it has no cocoa solids) is incredible. So what will my sweetheart be getting me for Valentine's Day, since he doesn't cook and I don't like chocolate? He never forgets the roses. Note on photographs: All photos used in this article are either my own copyrighted artwork or are licensed for non-commercial use from iStockphoto. Please respect the copyright holders.

 

"She's Just Not That Into You"

Normally these "What's For Dinner?" diaries are easy for me to put together. I really enjoy cooking and I'm passionate about good quality food. But this week, I'm a little bit down in the dumps and feeling very guilty about the breakup of a potentially great relationship. You see, this week I had to say those fateful words: "I'm sorry, baby, but I'm just not that into you. This is never going to work out." No, wait!  Hang up that phone.  I don't need a marriage counselor.  (As a matter of fact, my darling husband sent me roses last week for our anniversary:  33 years he's put up with me.  We have two great kids.  It would be tough to find a more wonderful guy.)   No, I did push a vegetable out of my life this week, but it wasn't that sort of vegetable.

I told parsnips to take a hike.

I tried.  I really did.  I bought them from a high-quality organic farm that is also the source for my seed potatoes.  I waited until after the first frost in their native soil to order them, so that they'd be "frost-kissed" and sweeter and tastier.  I had half a dozen recipes lined up waiting, from a simple oven-roasted-with-olive-oil treatment to mashed-with-milk-and-a-little-nutmeg to a fairly involved Parsnip Blue Cheese Soup.  I was ready to fall in love with this stranger about whom I'd heard so much praise.

Parsnips:

* are a very good source of potassium and therefore help reduce blood pressure.
* contain many of the B vitamins, Vitamin C, Vitamin K, and manganese.
* are low in saturated fat, sodium, and cholesterol.
* are high in dietary fiber.

The only drawback, in fact, is that parsnips have both a high glycemic index (97) and a high glycemic load (12), meaning that they kick your blood sugar in the patoot and are wholly unsuitable for low-carbohydrate diets..  Ah, well.  We can't expect perfection in our blind dates, I suppose.  

So the box containing my two pounds of parsnips arrived this week.  With great anticipation, I carefully slit the packing tape and removed my potential new love from its bed of recycled paper.

Ya know...  they told me parsnips had a great personality.  I just didn't expect someone quite so.... large in person.

However!  I carefully kept my surprise from showing as I said Hello.  First item on our agenda for the week was

Parsnip and Blue Cheese Soup

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 onion, finely sliced
1 garlic clove, crushed
2 ordinary size parsnips, peeled and diced - not 2 of these monsters!
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
5 fl oz heavy whipping cream
4 oz blue cheese, crumbled
salt
freshly ground black pepper

1. Gently melt the butter in a medium saucepan.
2. Sauté the onion, garlic and parsnip for 5-6 minutes, to soften.
3. Gradually add the chicken stock, stirring all the time, and bring to the boil.
4. Reduce the heat and simmer gently for 15 minutes. Then stir in the cream and cheese and continue to simmer for a further five minutes.
5. Pureé the soup in a blender until smooth.
6. Return the soup to the pan, season and reheat, then pour into individual serving bowls.

Serves 2-4.

I did make one concession to dietary prudence:  I used evaporated milk instead of the heavy cream, but to make up for that I added some extra blue cheese -- probably 6 ounces all told instead of 4.  (I like blue cheese.  It's a weakness.)  Also, in consideration of my parsnip's -- ahem -- heftiness, I peeled it, chopped it into chunks, and ran it through the food processor instead of trying to dice it neatly with a knife.

Soon enough it was ready.  With great anticipation, we sat down together for our first meal.  I lifted the soup spoon.  I tasted.

Well.

Bravely giving it the benefit of the doubt, I persevered.  I tried adding a little squeeze of lemon juice (didn't work with the cheese flavor).  I salted a bit more heavily.  I tried some more pepper.  But in the end, I had to say that this soup just didn't work.  It was sweet; it had no texture; it was... hm, the word that comes to mind is "flabby," but darned if I can explain what I mean by that.  The blue cheese was an alien flavor that sat on top of the sweet creamy nothingness and did not belong.

Later in the week, I boiled and mashed and nutmegged.  I sliced and roasted chips in the oven.  I looked up recipes for parsnip/leek/carrot gratins.  I tried, but I finally had to say  "I'm sorry, baby, but I'm just not that into you.  This is never going to work out."

Oh, the fault was mine, I know.  You see, I know I don't like sweet vegetables.  I don't like sweet much of anything, really.  Give me sharp, give me savory, a bit salty, lots of citrus/acid notes, and I'm there.  I want a vegetable with some sass.  I appreciate a little spicy kick.  But poor, sweet parsnip, perfect for a plain comfort food kind of gal, just didn't fit my idea of a good dinner date.

So this week, I'm a little bit sad and feeling very guilty about dumping poor misunderstood parsnip into the compost bin of my life.  Still... somewhere out there, I just know it, the Perfect Vegetable awaits.  

 

Seasons of the garden

I dug up the squash plant yesterday. All summer I've nursed that poor little plant. It had powdery mildew and insects early in the spring; it baked in the 100° heat of July; it thirsted through our Stage II drought in August. It hung on, bravely, occasionally unfurling a beautiful orange flower or two for a day before giving up and returning its energy to staying alive. Then about a week ago, a miracle happened. When watering it I noticed four tiny baby squashes hiding in the leaves. Four of them! About the size of my little finger, bright yellow and smooth and promising squashy goodness soon. Maybe the cooler weather made the difference? But Saturday... I went out to check on it once more, to make sure that the squashes weren't growing inedibly big too fast. All of the fruits were covered with tiny brown spots and had already turned mushy. Insects were having a buffet. The whole plant had wilted and was either dead or almost there. So yesterday I dug it up. I put the sad carcass in a plastic bag (don't want to compost any bad viruses or germs) and I dumped the soil that was in the container (don't want to let anything overwinter and eat next year's plants). It was a melancholy moment. But today, I am preparing the planters for the winter garden of spinach, lettuce, carrots, parsnips, garlic, and shallots. Seasons move on and the sun is lower in the sky. The garden continues.

 

Nearing Summer's End

Late summer, and although it's still very warm and more than a bit humid here in the Deep South, many of us a little farther north are starting to see some cooler weather. The sun's angle is lower in the sky and the days are growing shorter. It's time to finish up the harvest of summer vegetables and think ahead to something a bit different, a bit heartier, for the autumn season.

This week I went to the local artisan bakery to pick up a loaf or two of sunflower wheat bread. This particular bakery also serves breakfast and lunch -- a kind of tearoom atmosphere of pastries, quiche, fruit salad plates and light sandwiches that normally doesn't speak to me. But this day the menu board said "Today's special -- Italian Wedding Soup: chicken broth, pasta, meatballs, spinach." I was suddenly starving. It sounded delectable. And it was lunchtime.

Being a scrupulously honest person, I must admit that the soup that day was slightly disappointing. It wasn't bad, and I certainly went on my way re-energized, but I knew I could do better with only a few little tweaks to make the soup fresher-tasting, less salty and more flavorful. I started with homemade chicken stock; if you are short on time or inclination, use canned stock instead and tread lightly with the salt shaker.

Better than Edgar's Italian Wedding Soup

• 12 cups chicken stock
• (optional and not at all traditional) juice of 1 lemon (about 1/4 cup)*
• 12 ounces dry orzo pasta
• Peppery Meatballs (see below)
• 1 large bunch spinach or escarole, washed and chopped
• 1/2 cup grated Romano cheese, plus more for the table
• salt and pepper to taste

*The lemon juice brightens the flavor with less added salt and helps retain the color of the spinach or escarole during cooking. If you use it, start with half the Romano cheese and taste prior to adding the rest.

1. Place chicken stock (and lemon juice, if using) in a large soup pot and bring to a simmer. Meanwhile, make the meatballs:

Timesaver: Do Ahead  Make a double batch of meatballs as directed. Use half for today's soup and freeze the other half for later use: Place meatballs about 1/2" apart on a baking sheet sprayed with cooking spray or lined with parchment paper. Freeze uncovered for 2 hours. Remove from tray; place into freezer container or plastic bag for storage. Keeps up to 6 months in freezer.Add meatballs to soup directly from freezer; no need to thaw first.

Peppery Meatballs:

• 3/4 pound lean ground beef or ground turkey
• 1/2 cup dry breadcrumbs or crushed saltine crackers
• 1 egg
• 1 tablespoon dried minced onion
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Place all meatball ingredients into a large bowl and mix well. Shape into marble-size (about 3/4"-diameter) balls and add to stock.

2. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent sticking.
3. Add orzo; simmer an additional 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Add chopped spinach or escarole; simmer until wilted, about 5 minutes.
5. Stir in grated cheese. Taste and add salt and pepper as needed.
6. Serve hot with crusty bread and allow each diner to add more cheese to taste.

Serves 4-6.

Glycemic Index Note: Pasta made with durum wheat, like most commercial products including orzo, carries a glycemic index of about 40, making it a low GI (desirable) food. Although white rice has official glycemic indices ranging from 38 to about 87, depending on type, my experience has been that rice affects my blood sugar much more rapidly and adversely than pasta. In addition, whole-wheat orzo is higher in fiber and should therefore carry an even lower glycemic index than regular pasta.