Local Tostadas

They were not nearly from scratch, but this evening's tostadas were immensely satisfying, and I do think that the extra care taken is partly responsible, along with many local or regional ingredients. Previous tostada efforts have begun with store-bought corn tostadas, which are usually available in little bags of about a dozen, stacked in a rather fragile pile in the "international" section of the larger grocery stores. These are not bad, but they are not a great beginning.

Here is what I did this evening, drawing very loosely on the introduction to the tostada section of The Bible, also known as The Well-Filled Tortilla. Yes, it has an entire tostada section, which is yet another reason that you should go get a copy if you have been putting this off.

I started by boiling a couple of chicken breasts that were in the freezer. While they boiled -- which did take a while -- I chopped a small onion, a couple cloves of garlic, an Italian pepper, and one red-hot serrano pepper, all from this week's farm-box share at Colchester Neighborhood Farm. Once the chicken was very tender, I lifted the pieces into a medium bowl, where I used two forks to shred them. I then heated the last remnants of a bottle of Persian lime-infused olive oil from Lebherz (time to re-order!) in an indispensable cast-iron saucepan. I then browned the chicken in the oil, and added the aromatics, cooking until all of this just looked and smelled wonderful.

Meanwhile, I heated some refried beans (Trader Joe's Salsa Style) in a small, indispensable cast-iron skillet. Then I stirred a bit more EVOO and some chili powder into the chicken mixture. I turned both pans to very low heat and heated a goodly amount of EVOO (about a 1/4-inch deep; we never do this) in our large, indispensable cast-iron skillet. I then placed a store-bought, eight-inch, flour tortilla in the pan and heated it until the edges began to brown. I turned it over with tongs (our friend Rob insists this is the most important tool in the kitchen, and today he was right), cooked for another minute or so, and then placed it on a plate. I repeated with a second tortilla, being careful not to allow the oil to smoke, and to allow the tostadas (the first I've ever made!) to drain just a bit. When they got a bit puffy, the tongs proved useful in bringing them down to size.

With everything done at the same time (one of the toughest parts of cooking, in my book), we assembled by spreading the beans on each tostada and topping with a generous helping of the chicken. We then topped it with sliced, luscious tomato (also from Colchester), plain Stonyfield yogurt (healthier than sour cream), and a chipotle salsa from Green Mountain Gringo.

What could be better than all this, besides delightful company? The perfect pairing with Original Recipe Pale Ale from our friends in Westport.

UPDATE: The panic about Persian lime-infused olive oil was premature. Pam remembers an additional bottle, purchased for our Lime Jubilee in May. I know readers were worried!

Chicken Parm

This is what Whaling House smelled like on Friday night -- in a good way. When we started isolating for the Coronavirus before it was mandatory, the first step was to change our grocery-shopping routine, which in normal times involves James finding his way to the local Roche Brothers a few times each week. But knowing that we would be reducing this as much as possible, the strategy has changed -- go in quickly with a list on which we know everything must be considered aspirational. And if I see something not on the list that I can imagine getting a couple of good meals out of, grab it!

(Note: and anything I touch, I buy. It is Typhoid Mary-level reckless to "shop" by picking up and putting down items we are considering.)

During my first such outing, when I got to the poultry shelves I noticed a much-reduced selection and entire chillers that were empty. Boneless chicken thighs were abundant, so I bought two packages (staying on the polite side of the line between "stocking up" and "hoarding"), with no particular objectives in mind. I used the first for two dinners right away, and froze the second.

I enjoy chicken parmesan at restaurants not at all infrequently, but it had never occurred to me to make it myself until I saw a post on one of the local home-cooking groups I follow online. I realized that one of my neighbors was making this at home and decided it was time for me to try. But where to begin? I had no idea how to answer the most basic question: "Is it fried or baked?" Turns out the answer is: "Yes." But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

As I got ready to plan the meal, Pam fired up her iPad and pointed it to New York Times Cooking, from which she read me Freestyle Roasted Chicken Parm, a non-recipe recipe by Sam Sifton. It sounded delicious and I could have made it work, but I noticed to thing that caused me to ask Pam to keep looking: Sifton's concept had no breading, and I was in the mood for breading. And it sounded like it would really be good with some fresh basil and greens -- we were not going to break quarantine for that. Watch this space, though -- we will definitely return to this.

Next Pam read aloud from the simply-titled Chicken Parmesan by Melissa Clark. Again, this is a recipe for a different day -- it calls for chicken breasts, panko crumbs, and fresh mozzarella, none of which we had on hand. But the recipe answered a few basic questions that allowed me to get started on my own version: it calls for frying the chicken first, using egg, and spreading sauce on the bottom of the baking pan AND over the top of the chicken.

Chicken Parm in progress -- in the galley at
Whaling House

So this is what I did, in less time that it has taken me to write the tale: I heated oven to 400F, and heated some sauce (I blended a can and a half-jar to finish up some leftover sauce from another meal) in a small saucepan. I poured about 1/3 of the sauce (roughly one cup) into a casserole and spread it thinly.

Then I beat two eggs in one bowl; in a second bowl I whisked together flour with ample amounts of pepper, oregano, basil, and probably a few other spices. I heated a generous layer of olive oil in a skillet (I'll use our indispensable cast-iron skillet next time, but I was in the wrong kitchen for that). I dredged the chicken in the egg and then the flour mixture, and cooked until crispy on both sides. I placed this on top of the sauce, and it looked just lovely.

Then I spooned the rest of the sauce on top, adding thin shavings of parmesan. I then baked it at 400F for 40 minutes. Near the end, I cooked up a small amount of ziti to serve on the side. The result was delicious, and the aromas inviting.

Chicken Parm, Plated
In the Whaling House Chartroom

This was clearly a meal for four, with only two of us sheltering, so this was our Saturday linner as well. To reheat it, I put all the leftovers in a skillet, covered, with a tiny amount of water under the chicken and a tiny amount of olive oil over the ziti. I overdid it a bit so there was some scorching -- all the better!

CODA
After spending decades enjoying this dish only when made by others, I will be making it again. And next time we'll be serving it not only with candlelight but also with The Stranger.

Alternative

Thanks to social media, we have this alternative recipe, with really alternative vocabulary. It is apparently quite popular. I only clicked on it because it begins with a close-up of an indispensable cast-iron skillet.

Peppery Pairing

While we were in Trader Joe's yesterday (see our Comfort Pizza post for other results of that outing), Pam was looking through some of the higher-quality frozen fish selections, suggesting that we try one. I told her that whatever one she chose, I would have a look in our new book Cod and Country to figure out how best to use it. I was already on thin ice, as it were, because the whole point of that book is to be a bit more careful than this in selecting one's fish.

That proverbial ice broke when I searched the index of the book for what I might do with the two tuna steaks we purchased. Author Barton Seaver considers most tuna harvesting operations to be inherently unsustainable, and therefore provides only one tuna recipe, and that is for canned albacore caught under a particular harvesting regime. For this reason, I simply searched All Recipes, and liked the first entry I found -- Grilled Jalapeño Tuna Steaks.

I modified the recipe in a couple of small ways. First, since we had lime-infused olive oil, I used that instead of oil plus lime juice. Second, since it is spring only in the technical sense, I did not put this on the grill. I simply cooked it over high heat in our indispensable cast-iron skillet. These steaks were thick, so I eventually became concerned about drying them out by the time they were cooked through. I covered them with the pan lid, and got a reasonably good -- if slightly dry -- result in terms of texture. In terms of flavor, these were really quite excellent.

Those who have not used jalapeños recently might not have noticed that they have gotten quite large and relatively mild, so a full pepper added zest without an unreasonable amount of heat. (Full disclosure: my cooking preferences were shaped more by the Southwest than the South Shore. Still, hot peppers are not what they used to be.)

I also concocted a side dish that was simple, nutritious, delicious and cheap, and was made a better pairing through the sharing of a couple of ingredients. Once I started marinating the tuna, I sauteed a small onion and a second jalapeño in our second indispensable cast-iron skillet, using a bit of butter and a bit of that lime-infused olive oil. Then I added one medium sweet potato, peeled and cut to quarter-inch dice. I cooked this until the whole mixture was a bit of a caramelized mess, eventually covering it to preserve moisture.

The pairing was actually a very nice-- well, whatever a pairing of three would be -- with the addition of a Hungarian Pinot Grigio that had been the gift of family friends.

I look forward to further experimentation with lime, jalapeño, and fish, though I will consult Seaver's work before the purchase next time!

St. Patrick's Day Shepherd's Pie

We are low-key celebrators of St. Patrick's Day. I (Pam) have some Irish heritage on my father's side, so we wear green, and admonish everyone to do the same. (Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day!) We also eat an appropriate meal, generally one featuring potatoes. This year's repast was Shepherd's Pie made with a recipe from the New York Times Cooking Page. 

I started by peeling, cubing and boiling 3 large potatoes. While they cooked I peeled and diced 2 carrots, one onion, and 4 garlic cloves, and shredded a cup of cheddar cheese. 

When the potatoes were ready to mash I drained the water and put them back in the pot, and let them sit while I melted 6 tablespoons of butter and cooked with 1/2 cup of milk in our indispensable cast-iron skillet. Then I added the butter/milk mixture to the potatoes and mashed together, and then stirred in the shredded cheddar, along with a bit of salt and pepper. A taste test told me that this is a method I should use in the future for preparing mashed potatoes. They were way tastier than usual. The potatoes then waited while I prepared the rest of the dish.

The cast iron skillet was put back to work to sauteé the onions, garlic, and carrots in 2 tablespoons of butter. Once the onions were translucent I added a pound of ground beef and cooked until it was no longer pink. At this point the recipe calls for a can of tomato paste. I used some left over tomato sauce instead. It also calls for some beef stock, which I totally missed. So even though I saw it on the list of ingredients and had James buy some, it never made it into the dish. Finally, I added some rosemary leaves and thyme before spreading the mixture evenly across the skillet. This was topped with the mashed potatoes, and again spread evenly. The skillet then was placed in a 375 degree oven for about 25 minutes, at which point the potatoes were a lovely golden brown. I let the dish sit for 12 minutes before serving. This was divine. Wonderfully tasty, with a lot of texture. It made for lovely leftovers the next day as well.

Chicken Enchiladas

 

This recipe came from our Best Simple Suppers for Two cookbook. The original intention was to make it for Valentine's Day, but we decided to roast a whole chicken instead for our romantic February 14 dinner. Since this recipe called for shredding a prepared rotisserie chicken it made more sense to use the leftover chicken for this one. The recipe says this has a prep time of 10 minutes, which I found wildly inaccurate. It took about twice that long to shred the chicken, chop the onion and garlic, cook it all with the other ingredients, then divide, and assemble. 

Full ingredient list includes:

4 six-inch corn tortillas (next time I will use six tortillas)

2 T olive oil

1 garlic clove (minced)

1 small onion (chopped)

2 cups shredded cooked chicken

1 can black beans (rinsed and drained)

1 can diced tomatoes

juice of one lime

1 cup corn kernals

1 t. cumin

1 c. enchilada sauce

2 cups shredded pepper jack cheese

While sautéing the onion and garlic in our indispensable cast-iron skillet I charred the tortillas in a dry cast iron pan on the stovetop. I added the chicken and beans to the skillet and seasoned with some salt and pepper. Once the chicken and beans were warmed through I removed half the mixture to a separate bowl and mixed half the corn, half the tomatoes, half the cumin, half the lime juice, and half the enchilada sauce into what was left in the skillet and sprinkled a third of the cheese on top. Two tortillas were placed on top of this, and then the rest of everything (except the cheese) was mixed together in the bowl with the remaining chicken and bean mix, and then put over the tortillas. A third of the cheese was added, and then the other two tortillas followed by the last of the cheese. This was all baked in the skillet (with its lid) at 350 for 14 minutes. We topped our enchiladas with sour cream.

A spicy, flavorful meal with a lot of texture. We both liked this, although it wasn't especially simple. It had a lot of ingredients, a lot of steps, and created a lot of dishes. We will likely have this again, but I will save it for a weekend meal next time.

Nachos Flambés

Tonight was another double-leftover success. This happens at Casa Hayesboh when we use leftovers from one meal to make another, and then do it again. Like a game of "Telephone" the third meal has little resemblance to the first. Pam gets credit for executing stages one and two in this case, and for suggesting the third, though James executed it. As you will see below, that might be an especially apt choice of words.

Image from
Flambé Gourmet,
which I am not!

This began two days ago, when Pam made spaghetti with an excellent marinara sauce, using some organic ground beef as the base. To the leftover sauce, she added some kidney beans yesterday and -- voila! -- delicious Sloppy Joes! After two servings of that, however, we still had a bit of the hybrid filling. Pam suggested nachos, which is one of our guilty pleasures when out and about. In fact, we should have mentioned nachos at the long-gone Pargo's in suburban Baltimore in the recent New York Times article about the success of our marriage.

I am a good critic of nachos, but realized only this evening that I have not actually prepared them much, at least not lately. But lack of experience has never been a deterrent in our house, so I plunged right in to the preparations.

I started by putting the leftover Sloppy Joe filling in one of our indispensable cast-iron skillets; noticing that it had thickened, I added some plain tomato sauce -- we usually have some in a glass jar in the fridge. In another indispensable cast-iron skillet, I heated some lime-infused olive oil from Lebherz. Regular readers of this blog will know that this oil is becoming as indispensable as the pans themselves. I sauteed some sliced, white mushrooms, and then poured over some Cuervo. I often do this with butter and sherry, but lime-oil and tequila seemed more appropriate.

The Cuervo was only 80 proof, but somehow the pan quickly became involved. I was flummoxed for a moment, because I have never had anything like this happen in my cooking. Fortunately, I reached for the knob rather than a camera, so I have no photo of the flare-up, which ended -- with cool, blue effects -- as quickly as it began. The photo above is from the web site of someone who does this kind of thing on purpose.

I gave some thought to broiling the assembled nachos, but it has been a muggy week, so we opted for the microwave. I covered a plate with organic tortilla strips, spread over the meat/bean/tomato mixture, and topped with a generous layer of freshly shredded mozzarella and very sharp cheddar. I sprinkled liberally with the mushroom slices and canned sliced jalapeños. I microwaved the entire dish for 90 seconds and placed it in the center of the table.

The trickiest part of this meal -- aside from kitchen safety -- was getting all of the cool parts of the meal ready at the same time as the hot parts. I put together a simple salad with fresh greens from Colchester Neighborhood Farm and a bit of tomato and cuke from Hanson Farm (yes, friends, Hanson already has tomatoes!)  With the healthy part taken care of, we felt free to dig into the nachos piled between us.

Drink pairing? Frozen margaritas with some fresh lime, of course. The perfect end to a summer's day.

We still have not seen this film, though nachos were mentioned
in the opening scene of our evening selection,
Parker Posey's Price Check.  

FTE Kibbeh

 Note to higher-ed colleagues: by FTE I mean First Time Ever, not Full-time Equivalent

I have seen a few comments recently about food blogs, suggesting (strongly) that bloggers should skip the context-setting stories and go right to the cooking instructions. Regular readers will know that for me there is always a story, and often a complicated one, on the way to the recipe. And often there is a bit of an additional story following the food. For my very first kibbeh, this is going to be even more true than usual.

The story begins long ago and far away, with two friends who operate a restaurant in London and who had lived parallel lives in Jerusalem long before they met. Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi grew up on opposite sides of the Jewish/Palestinian divide in that most divided of cities, yet as adults were connected as friends and professionals by food. For them, the cuisine of Jerusalem is one of connection, not isolation, and so they came to write Jerusalem: A Cookbook, whose simple title belies the richness of its flavors, images, and ... stories.

I know that I learned of the book from an interview on public radio, but I am not sure which one. A quick search of NPR reveals more than a dozen possibilities, mostly on a program (Salt) that is not familiar to me. So I believe it was Yotam Ottolenghi's 2015 discussion of food and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict with Robin Young that got my attention. (Writing paused while I listen again.)

In addition to the Robin Young interview, I recommend the Good Reads review by user Petra-X as an introduction to this popular volume. I also recommend the review by user Carol Smith. As Robin Young mentions, many people have become Jerusalem completists who cook, eat, and/or blog their way through the entire volume. Although Smith has not done that so far, she does include reviews (and photos) of many specific recipes. She has a personal policy of not posting a review of a cookbook until she can post 10 recipe reviews. In the spirit of this Nueva Receta blog, she avers that a cookbook should be removed from the shelf if the owner does not prepare at least 10 dishes from it.

All of this was in the back of my mind last week, when I realized I would have a couple of days without a lot of Zooming scheduled, and that I could reward myself by tackling a new recipe. I thumbed through Jerusalem, looking for only a modest challenge. I found it on page 160 in a recipe for "open kibbeh," described as a very nontraditional variation on kibbeh itself. True to form for Ottolenghi and co-author Sami Tamimi, the recipe is preceded by a full page entitled "The capital of kibbeh" that describes this food as a perfect exemplar of a food that crosses boundaries. I learned that I am far from alone in not knowing what kibbeh actually is -- or in being uncertain about its spelling: kibbeh, kubbbeh, and kobeba are offered as options.

The open kebbeh is a dramatic departure in form, as traditional kibbeh is a deep-fried ball of ground meat, bulgur wheat, and spices, and this was to be a pie made with similar ingredients. The recipe calls for a springform pan, but ours was in the wrong house, and I decided that since the ancient Israelites had no springform pans, I could do without one as well. Of course, they would not have made this as a pie, but still ... I oiled one of our indispensable cast-iron pans and got to work preparing the bottom crust. 

This was the simplest of crusts -- I soaked one cup of fine bulger in one cup of water while I prepared the rest of the dish. I mixed in a little salt, pepper, white flour and water and then pressed this thin dough into the bottom of the pan. Because it was a little wet, I actually put it in the oven (400F) for a few minutes before adding the meat mixture.

The recipe calls for lamb, but I used free-range ground turkey from Vermont that was delivered by our local dairy. I cooked onions, garlic and a hot pepper in olive oil until very soft -- in another indispensable cast-iron skillet, of course -- and then removed them to a bowl so that I could brown the turkey in the same pan. I then returned the aromatics to the pan and added pine nuts, cinnamon, coriander, allspice (except I did not really, because again, wrong house), and cilantro. Once this was nicely melded, I spooned it onto the crust and baked for 20 minutes.

While it was baking, I whisked together tahini paste, water, and lemon juice to make a thin sauce that is a sesame equivalent of almond butter. I had never cooked with tahini sauce, and in fact had done an image search before shopping so that I would have a better chance of finding it at the local grocery -- this proved to be an essential, step, as it was fairly well hidden. I removed the kibbeh from the oven and smoothed the sauce over top. I sprinkled it with more pine nuts and parsley and baked for another 12 minutes. I then turned the heat down to keep the dish warm until Pam was ready to join me for dinner. 

Open Kibbeh

We pronounced the result to be as delicious as it was nutritious. I look forward to cooking more. I was reminded of the excellent food we enjoyed in Jordan while visiting our partner university at Tafila -- well within the realm of Jerusalem's influence -- during our brief 2017 visit. In just a few days, the emphasis on healthy oils, lean meats, and grains had left me feeling as vigorous as our hosts were generous and amiable.

Coincidences 

It turns out that I prepared this dish on a rather ignoble day for the region from which it comes to us. During the last gasps of his term as Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo visited the West Bank with a disruptive mission. He became the highest-ranking U.S. official to visit one of the contentious -- and internationally scorned -- settlement, where he was feted with wine bearing his name on the label, to celebrate his role in providing cover for the illegal occupation of the land from which it was produced.

This visit was in stark contrast with the work my geography students were doing, as they studied the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the lens of The Lemon Tree, a novel based on a true story of friendship across that bitter divide. Although the book was published in 2007 and I started using it in my teaching in 2012 -- when the author visited our campus -- I continue to assign it every semester because at this point in the semester I start to receive the student papers, and invariably some of the students actually thank me for assigning it. In a similar vein, I recommend the story of Assel Street in East Jerusalem.

Lagniappe

I cannot think of kibbeh without thinking of my late friend Khalil, who introduced me to it -- in the Brazilian Amazon of all places. During my first visit to Rondônia in 1996 -- and my only extended stay so far -- I frequently visited his family. His wife was a professor in the Department of Letters that was my academic home, and they lived near the house where I rented a room from one of the other professors. 

Our visits involved learning to dance with the three generations of fabulous dancers in that family, and learning about food from Khalil. He did not dance, but he cooked. He had come to Brazil from Lebanon in a prior generation, and was a sometime Middle Eastern grocer. He delighted in making me kibbe (see - yet another spelling) and other dishes from the Levant; and he knew that inviting me to prepare food would be a way for me not just to return the favor, but to share something of myself. I still remember the discussion as we planned a dinner of spaghetti and chicken -- which ultimately made me a minor celebrity for a while. I had not yet cooked or been to a proper grocery store, and had no idea what I would be able to find. One by one, I asked about ingredients I had not seen anybody use during my stay. In answer to each one, he would nod solemnly and proclaim, "têm" -- "they have it" -- stretching the short word to almost three syllables. 

At Casa Hayes-Boh, that is how we declare the availability of ingredients to this day: têm!

Spaghetti with tomatoes, bacon and onions

Last week we bought some bacon in order to make some of our favorite sandwiches (bacon with cheddar and red pepper jelly). Since we did not use all of it, I thought about making another round of Spaghetti with Butter, Parmesan, and Browned Bacon which I remembered enjoying last summer, but then it occurred to me that the 365 Ways to Cook Pasta cookbook probably had more than one recipe that called for bacon. And it turns out I was right (but who's surprised?). Listed in the "Emergency Dinners" portion of the book, which has recipes that can be made in 30 minutes of less (as long as you have everything on the "staples" list on hand) I found Spaghetti with Tomatoes, Bacon and Onions. I wasn't really in an "emergency" situation, but I was in the state commonly known as "pretty tired", and this recipe wasn't too taxing, and didn't take very long. I started by cutting the bacon into small pieces and cooking it in the indispensable cast-iron skillet. When it was brown, I removed the bacon, and left just a tad of its liquid into the indispensable cast-iron sauce pan. To this, I added one small, chopped onion, one minced garlic clove, a can of organic diced tomatoes, and a bit of fresh ground pepper and cooked over a low heat, stirring occasionally. Meanwhile I cooked the spaghetti, and grated some Parmesan cheese. When the spaghetti was cooked and drained it was placed on our colorful dishes, and topped with the sauce and cheese. This was simply scrumptious. We enjoyed this dish with "The Other" wine - a blend of merlot, shiraz, and Cabernet Sauvignon.The delicious smell of this dish is still lingering in my house almost 24 hours later.

Cranberry "Recipe" Recipe

I was about to prepare a pound of fresh cranberries that I had picked up from Hanson Farm, but I could not find any rum in the cabinet. That's right: we usually use rum. What qualifies this as a new recipe is a substitution I used for one of our standards. I also changed the preparation methods a bit, to accommodate other things I was cooking for the same meal.

The original recipe -- in the first of our two big binders of recipes -- is as follows:

• Place one pound of fresh cranberries in your indispensable cast-iron skillet, along with two cups of sugar (brown or white). Cover with foil or lid and place in a 250-degree oven for 1 hour.
• Add 2-1/4 cups of rum and return to oven uncovered until evaporated.
• Stir minimally, if at all.

Lacking rum, I opened a recently-purchased bottle of Seagram's 7. For sipping, we usually have something a bit more rarefied, like a Scotch or brandy, but we keep the Seagram's around for mixing or for less refined moods.

The whole category of distilled spirits is known as "recipe" in our house, after the moonshine kept for medicinal purposes by the Baldwin sisters on the Prohibition-era television show The Waltons.

What I actually did yesterday was:

• Placed one pound of fresh cranberries in our indispensable cast-iron saucepan, along with one cup each of brown and white sugar. Covered with lid and placed in a 300-degree oven for 30 minutes.
• Allowed to rest on stove top for about 45 minutes while the rest of the meal cooked at a higher temperature.
• Added 2-1/4 cups of whiskey (see below) and cooked, uncovered, on stove top until it was evaporated, or nearly so.
• Stirred almost not at all.

Had I to do this over again -- and I will! -- I would use a bit less whiskey, as the evaporation took far too long, and was not complete at serving time.

Returning in 2025 to update

This is now the only way I make cranberry sauce. I remembered that I have reduced the amount of whiskey I use, but I had not remembered that the original amount was so much. Really, a half cup or so will do. There is no point in letting THAT much evaporation happen with libations that could be enjoyed more directly. This also allows us to feel OK with using a fancier whiskey or aged rum.

Vieja Black Bean Quesadilla Receta

I mentioned these quesadillas in two recent blog posts -- first when I posted about shrimp I made instead of these and next when I posted about the wine I prepared to serve with them. In the process, I realized that because we have been making this since before we started the blog, we never got around to post it. So herewith, a Vieja Receta we enjoy several times a year. (The recipe is old, not the beans or the quesadilla!)

The recipe came from a booklet -- long ago discarded except for this page -- of recipes from a honey company.

To prepare these, I heat a can of black beans in our indispensable cast-iron skillet. The original recipe calls for rinsing and draining the beans; I prefer to cook them a bit longer and reduce the liquid that way. We add a cup or so of commercial salsa, though home-made would be even better. I add a dollop of honey and mix thoroughly. Because salsa adds water, it is important to cook long enough for some reduction.

While it is cooking, I shred cheese -- usually a mix of cheddar for bite and Monterey jack for smoothness; queso fresco would also be terrific. I either put the cheese on one half of each large tortilla or covering a small tortilla. Recent supply-chain issues pushed me to the latter this time. 

I then forget to include the called-for jalapeños and cilantro, because I have not looked at recipe in a long time. I heat the indispensable cast-iron griddle (on the other side of the stove) and put a bit of oil on it. I then spoon the bean mixture onto the cheese and either fold over the tortilla or place a second tortilla on top, as appropriate. I carefully place each quesadilla onto the griddle when it has reached medium-high heat. I almost immediately reduce the heat and when one side is done, very carefully turn each quesadilla.

Getting the heat right takes some practice. The idea is to gently brown the tortilla without burning it, while giving the cheese enough time over heat to melt thoroughly. 

The result is Casa Hayes-Boh comfort food. I can prepare this in about the time it took to write these few paragraphs. This simple, vegetarian dish is always enjoyable and went very well with the Glüwein we had for our solstice dinner.

Sad Irony

Although I always picture the honeybee from the cover of the original booklet when I make this recipe, I forgot the honey this time -- remembering it only after eating a couple bites. It was still delicious, but differently so.

Sweet Potato Quesadillas

I thought of using a clever title that refers to this being an Old Faithful recipe on our Nueva Receta blog, but I chose a simple title in hopes that people can find this, one of our very favorite recipes. It is healthy, high-fiber, vegetarian, and easily made vegan. It comes -- as so many good things do -- from Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home: Fast and Easy Recipes for Any Day, which visitors to our home know simply as "Mini Moosewood."

I have prepared this so often that I cannot even be sure how far it may have departed from the original in its details. I can tell you that it requires an indispensable cast-iron skillet and a cast-iron griddle or large pan.

Photo added at Cloverfield during global pandemic
March 23, 2020

It works like this, in two stages.

First, peel and then shred some sweet potatoes (or yams; please tell me if you honestly know the difference) as you heat up some oil in the pan. A serious shredder such as the one I mention in my "Gratin" article will pay for itself with this dish. Quantity? Whatever makes sense, plus a bit. I usually do one fairly large one for the two of us. Add to the hot oil and then add a diced onion. Add minced garlic if you are not forgetful (as I was this evening, but accidentally compensated with a garlic salsa). Add cayenne, chili powder, and cumin in abundance (all three, that is). Mini Moosewood says to cook it in one flat layer and scrape/flip it only once to avoid absorbing too much oil, but with a good olive oil, I don't see the point.

Second, assemble this with on the best tortillas (one big one each, or a couple of small ones) as you heat a small amount of oil on a griddle or in a large skillet. Having rinsed and dried the shredder (or using another face of it), shred a generous helping of cheese. I use the sharpest cheddar at hand (usually from Cabot cooperative in Vermont) and sometimes a bit of Monterrey Jack (also usually from Cabot). This evening we used aged Lite Sharp Celtic Cheddar and Monterrey Jack, both from Trader Joe's, to very good effect. With the sweet potato mixture on one half of each tortilla and the cheese on top of that, fold each one over and put on the hot griddle, flipping when browned. Top with a good salsa (we used Green Mountain Gringo garlic this evening, but any good salsa will do) and either sour cream or plain yogurt.

As if this were not enough, tonight we added a third step, which was Pam's brilliance: sangria. I once scoffed at sangria as too sweet, but in the right circumstances, it is amazing -- and thrifty! Tonight it was Madria Sangria ("Tradicional/Fresh Citrus") with a chopped apple and a bit of Triple Sec. It was a good excuse to bring out our sangria pitcher and matching mugs (from Nantucket's best thrift shop) and the first outdoor dining of the season at Casa Hayes-Boh.

Yes, our sangria kit matches our cookie jar.

Salmon Provençal

Lucky Day -- my
fishmonger
ticket showed
my birthday
#Maythe4thbewithyou

As we have started spending most weekends (and the occasional weekday evening) at our Fairhaven house near maritime New Bedford -- where we even have a favorite fishmonger -- it is rare for us to eat seafood at our landlocked home in Bridgewater. It is even rarer that we would buy seafood here, so far (almost 20 miles) from the ocean. (This is somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but increasingly true.)

Every once in a while, though, circumstances lead to me bringing some seafood to Bridgewater, and when I suggested that I might do so today, Pam looked up a couple of NY Times salmon recipes she had saved. When she read the ingredients list to me, I decided to try Provençal Salmon With Fennel, Rosemary and Orange Zest. The recipe's title is essentially its shopping list, though I'm not sure what it has to do with Provence. 

Fennel, rosemary, orange zest

I followed the recipe rather carefully, including asking the expert at Kyler's Catch to skin the salmon fillet I had chosen. I do not bother with this step when grilling, but since the recipe called for it, I did so, and I learned previously that the combination of super-sharp knife and years of experience means that the job is done quickly and efficiently in the shop.

For the two of us, I used a single, one-pound fillet. I did not divide it until the very end, when I tested it for doneness. Whenever I divide a fillet, by the way, I do so crosswise so that we both end up with the same curve from thick to thin.

I preheated the oven to 400F and then combined the titular flavorings in a small bowl after grinding and mincing them myself. The combined aroma was so beautiful that I paused to take the bowl to Pam so she could appreciate a wafting before the cooking began.

Ready for a hot pan

I lightly applied salt and pepper to both sides of the fillet, and then pressed the spice mixture into one side, being careful to cover it. I then heated our indispensable cast-iron skillet and added oil and butter, heating a bit further. I could have let the pan get just a bit hotter, but it was sizzling decently when I put the fillet in -- orange-spice side down. I carefully flipped it after just over a minute, and a nice crust had indeed formed.

The recipe calls for a non-stick skillet, but seasoned cast-iron is preferable to the Teflon-style coatings, especially since this goes into the oven once the bottom has been seared and the fillet turned once. I kept this in the oven for 6 minutes before dividing it to check doneness. It was perfect after a total of 8 minutes.

Sizzling, crusty side up

The result: even though this was quick and easy, it was among the best salmon dish we have made, and we have made a lot of salmon dishes. This paired beautifully with mashed potatoes (which I prepared using a technique Pam recently posted), an orange (from whence I had garnered the zest), and Malbec. 

Lagniappe

I don't know how I failed to include a map in the original post! Provence is the southeast coast of France, nestled against the Mediterranean and Italy.

Two Simple Dishes

Huffington Post shared a link recently of the "Easiest, Fastest, Tastiest Meals You Never Make" from which I tried two last week. The first "Chicken with Apples and Carrots" I was able to prepare all in one skillet. And, with the exception of sour cream, I was able to prepare it with ingredients I had on hand. I did also substitute dried thyme leaves for the fresh thyme sprig. A winning fall recipe.

The other recipe Tomato and Chard Bake (the doughless pizza) should have been prepared all in one indispensable-cast-iron skillet but I forgot to bring such a skillet with me with we drove to our weekend "autumn house", so I had to use one skillet for the stove top, and then place everything into a cake pan when it was time to bake it. I used the remains two-day old baguette which I sliced and placed in the bottom of the pan with some olive oil and minced garlic. I did not have enough bread to place another layer on top of the tomatoes, mozzarella and chard, but it turned out fine anyway. I think I should have let it sit out a bit longer before serving, as I found the second helping to be better than the first. I think if I make it again I will also use a bit more olive oil and let the bread soak in it a bit longer.

One Roast -- Four Sequestered Meals

Favored caption: Low and Slow
Alternate caption: Wash Me!

We keep our Big Green Egg on a very open, covered patio, which allows me to use it without much regard to weather. When taking the photo above, I realized that it means this vital cooking machine never gets a rinse.

Anyway, the key to this ancient cooking method is to get the temperature right and then leave it alone. In this case, the idea was to stay as close to 250F as possible over the course of 5 hours. At 4 hours I realized I had let it dip just under 200, but I opened the vents and got it back up to about 275, and left it for an extra half hour.

The entire time it was smoking -- complete with some hickory chips -- I did not once check on the pork shoulder inside. I was able to restrain myself because I had succeeded in 2017 with a pork butt, which I described in detail in There's the Rub!

We buy a small amount of local, naturally raised meats, rather than a large amount of cheap, factory-raised meat. The "it" in the previous paragraph is free-range, local pork shoulder from Crescent Ridge in Sharon, where most of the meat we buy comes from. Most of the rest comes from J.H. Beaulieu in Fairhaven.

Spicehound, by way of Crescent Ridge

This time I followed essentially the same process, with different details. The rub was an almost random mix of about ten savory spices at hand, plus a bit of chili-cocoa powder. (Yes, that is something likely to be in our kitchens at any time, without a special shopping trip.) I gave myself a break and included barbeque sauce in our Crescent Ridge order. Shortly before removing the roast, I whisked -- over medium-low heat -- some of the sauce with a ginger-honey white balsamic from (you guessed it) our friends at L.O.V.E. 

Something I neglected to describe in the 2017 post is how to pull the pork. While it is very hot and tender, it can be shredded easily in the pan with two forks. I shredded just enough for what we would need that evening and the next afternoon.

Two More Meals

I am writing this during the current pandemic because it is not only a Big Green Egg story -- it is more importantly a story about finding ways to eat well with what is in the house, in order to reduce shopping trips. Our state is a leader in adhering to social distancing, and our county is a leader within the state. This means we are doing pretty well at following not only the letter of the regulations -- keeping only essential businesses open -- but also the spirit: making VERY efficient use of our time in those businesses. So during this crisis we have spread out our typically frequent trips to be a week or more apart, buying a variety of foods that can be combined in different ways to keep meals interesting and to preclude dashing back in for one or two items (which I usually do several times a week).

This evening was exhibit A: I had bought some tortillas and several different cheeses. I had one specific dish in mind -- my famous sweet-potato quesadillas -- but also a vague notion that we would find something to do with the rest.

And thus was born the pulled-pork quesadilla! I should have taken a photo of process. Because the pork had now been in the fridge a couple of days, it was not fork-tender. I heated some oil in our indispensable cast-iron skillet and put a hunk of the pork shoulder in, over medium heat. I then used a fork and small knife to pull the pork and occasionally slice it, until it was in small enough chunks to facilitate two-fork pulling. Once it was heated through, I added about a quarter-cup of water to the pan and simmered for a few minutes so that the pork would be especially tender again. Because of the rub, I had no need to add spices at this stage. While heating a small amount of oil on our cast-iron griddle, I divided the pork between two tortillas (staying on one half of each -- I should have taken a photo).

And one more meal to come. Whenever I talk to my mom by phone in Annapolis, she asks -- knowing that we cook. a lot -- "What you having good for dinner?" And with the pandemic we're talking more often than usual.  On Saturday, I replied that I was roasting the pork shoulder, and she started talking about pot pies. We had many, many of the Swanson frozen variety when I was a kid, but then a couple times a year she would make one for real.

So that is what is going to happen with the remainder of this roast: good ol' Virginia pot pie with a flaky crust top, vegetables, and white sauce. I think I want a few more vegetables, so we are going to freeze this just for a bit -- to make better use of a shopping trip a week or so from now.

Turkey Tips Appleton

Appleton is two of my favorite places, though I have only been to one of them. Appleton, Wisconsin is home to many of Pam's cousins, and we enjoy visiting there -- almost always in summer -- every three years or so. When this plague ends, I hope to squeeze in a visit with all the Lauermans and Lauerwomen there. The other Appleton is an estate in Jamaica that produces one of my favorite rums: Appleton Reserve, a blend that is aged six-ish years.

Because Pam and I (mostly Pam) have been careful to map out our food purchases and meals, I knew that turkey tips were on the menu for yesterday evening, and I had only vague plans to prepare them with some kind of sauce. Previous successes were a barley soup Pam made earlier in this lockdown and a bourbon turkey bourbon I made last year.

This time, I knew that I had relatively few resources for a sauce, and somehow the term "deglaze" hit me in the middle of the afternoon. Whatever I did with this turkey, deglazing our indispensable cast-iron skillet would be involved. As would some sliced mushrooms we had on hand.

So I dethawed (as we say in our kitchen) the Dole & Bailey Bourbon Street Turkey Tips from Crescent Ridge, and cut them into what I would call tip-sized chunks, about 1-1/2 inches each. These are marinated and incredibly tender; as a substitute it might be helpful brine some high-quality turkey breast or tenderloins (if that is even a thing).

I started cooking organic, whole-grain Carolina brown rice because we have plenty of time on our hands, and let the marinated turkey drain while waiting about 15 minutes before starting the rest. I then heated a bit of olive oil in said cast-iron until it was quite hot. I added the tips and seared them on one side before turning and allowing to cook through but not overcook -- probably around five minutes total.

I then removed the turkey to a warm bowl and deglazed the hot pan with a generous splash of aged rum (in this case, Appleton) and added about 8 ounces of sliced mushrooms.  I reduced the heat and added a dollop of butter, a glug of Worcestershire, and a dash or three of Tabasco. I simmered until the mushrooms were softened and the sauce reduced.

We then plated the tips and spooned over the mushroom and sauce. The result was savory and tender; it was nice to have the more substantial rice; we usually use a very light basmati.

Regular readers will not be surprised to learn that this paired well with a Malbec, in this case Broquel (shield) Malbec from our favorite Trapiche vineyard in Mendoza. And in this case the pairing claim is not just me -- the tasting notes from Trapiche specifically mention mushroom sauce! We are fortunate that our wine tastes have become so narrow -- social-distancing now involves curbside delivery of Malbec by the case from a wonderful local shop, which was nice enough to find us this wine.

Pam noticed this bonus right away -- a map to the vineyard!
(See our Malbeclipse story for more detailed direction.)

Beef-Barley Skillet

From perhaps the most-used cookbook in our collection - More-with-Less Cookbook - comes this simple, yet filling, dish that used a bunch of the things I froze over the summer from out CSA.

I began by sauteeing some onion, and browning about 3/4 pound of ground beef in our indispensable cast-iron skillet. I took some garlic scrape, and chopped celery from the freezer and added a handful of each to the skillet. Next I added a dollop of salsa, a bit of Worcestershire sauce, a can of diced tomatoes, a dash of marjoram and parsley, a bit of pepper, and threw in some frozen greens for good measure. Finally I added 1 1/2 c. of water and 3/4 c. of barley. Once this was all brought to a boil, I reduced the heat, covered and let cook for 50 minutes.

A tasty, and  hardy winter meal.

Zucchini Frittata

 During the Thanksgiving weekend two different friends each gifted us with a dozen eggs. In addition we received our usual 18 eggs with our weekly dairy delivery from Crescent Ridge Farm so we set out to make some egg-based dinners. First up was was our annual post-Thanksgiving sweet potato and turkey hash topped with fried eggs. Last night's recipe for zucchini frittata came from Jane Brody's Good Food Book (which has an entire section devoted to egg-based main courses). I chose this one because I had some shredded zucchini in my freezer from this summer's harvest from my garden. I also had all the other ingredients I needed on hand.

I started by mincing two garlic cloves (also from my garden) and chopping one onion. I sauteéd these in a lot of butter for about a minute in my indispensable cast-iron skillet and then added the thawed and drained zucchini. Next I beat six eggs to which I also added a bit of whipping cream, dried basil (also from my garden) and some shredded parmesan cheese, and added the mixture into the skillet. I cooked over a medium heat until the eggs began to set, at which point I added some more parmesan cheese to the top and moved the skillet to the oven which I set on broil. Once the top was nicely browned and puffy I removed it and let sit for two minutes before serving.

This was easy, flavorful, and had a lot of texture.

Chicken with Walnuts

A quick recipe from a classic cookbook (Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book) this used several leftover ingredients that I had in my refrigerator including two half bell peppers (one green, and one orange) and 3 scallions. 

I started by slicing two chicken breasts into about 20 pieces and then slicing the peppers, and scallions. Everything was set aside while I made the sauce which consisted of what was left in my bottle of soy sauce (the recipe says 3 T), 2 t cornstarch, a bit of port wine (in lieu of cooking sherry), a sugar cube, a bit of ground ginger, salt, and crushed red pepper. 

Using my indispensable cast-iron skillet I first sautéed the chopped vegetables for two minutes on high heat with orange-infused olive oil (I chose this flavor cooking oil because the recipe lists kumquats as an option for serving). The veggies were removed and then a cup of chopped walnuts were given a turn in the skillet for one minute. They were removed and then the chicken strips were cooked in the skillet. Once they were cooked through (it only took a few minutes) the sauce was added and then the vegetables and walnuts were put back in. Everything was covered and cooked together for another minute. 

We had some leftover lemon rice with almonds which we heated in the microwave oven and served with the chicken. 

An easy, delicious, and nutritious weeknight meal.

Skillet Chocolate Chip Cookie

 The description of this New York Times recipe begins "Skillet cookies are perfect for lazy nights when everyone wants something sweet but no one wants to work that hard for it." This really was much easier and faster than making a batch of cookies. I will probably never make regular chocolate chip cookies again. I had everything I needed in the pantry, and the cookie baked beautifully in my indispensable cast-iron skillet. Some friends had invited me to dinner and I offered to bring dessert. This was well received, especially when topped with vanilla ice cream - after all it was National Ice Cream Day!

photo from New York Times Cooking Pages

Tamale Tradition

NOTE: This is an all-day recipe! (Also, see vegetarian option below.)

As we mentioned in the Texas entry on our Celebrating the States blog a couple of years ago, tamales were an integral part of the South Texas experience that we somehow missed when we lived there. We did enjoy much of the culinary bounty there, but somehow missed this New Year's tradition until we had moved far, far away.

Once we realized the error of our ways, we made tamales a New Year's Eve tradition with friends, so that it is now a vieja receta (old recipe) for our household. This year we had our feast about a month late, and also realized that we had not yet posted it on this blog, those we have posted several other items related to tamales. These include sensual tamale tortillas (last Valentine's dinner), a radio report on the Tuscon Tamale Company (which we have not visited yet), and Central American nacatamales. This week, however, the focus is on our version of the classic tamale

The recipe we use won a contest in Texas Co-op Power magazine a number of years ago. The recipe itself is not on the magazine web site, though a special tamale-based cornbread dressing is, and these tamales could be an ingredient in that ambitious dish.

INGREDIENTS

Not exactly an ingredient, but essential to this process is some kind of vessel in which the tamales can be suspended above boiling water for steam. We are fortunate to have a very serious pasta pot. The insert is designed to work as a colander, but works beautifully as a steamer. 

The most critical ingredient is a few dozen corn husks, which might be the most difficult item to find. Identify a source before you invite people over. In Brockton, Price Rite is a reliable source; other markets sometimes have them as well. Soak them overnight in warm water, to start the tamales the next morning. Because they float, I put them in a big bowl with a small bowl on top.

For the filling
2-3 pounds chicken thighs (or 2 pounds ground pork or beef)
3 tablespoons cooking oil (I used Lebherz chipotle olive oil this time)
1/4 cup flour
2 beef bullion cubes (I have done this in the past, but since I used chicken and had no beef bullion on hand, I improvised with broth from boiling the thighs)
1/2 cup canned green chilies, chopped (this year I chopped one fresh Anaheim pepper; a poblano would also be good)
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 teaspoons salt (I skip this, as I do salt in most recipes)
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
2-3 tablespoons ground chili pepper (never quite sure what to do with this, I just use a bit of red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon chili powder (I use more)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/4 cup tomato sauce (I use a bit more)
1/4 teaspoon Cayenne pepper

For the masa dough
1.5 cups Crisco (Recipe calls for lard, which is authentic but not necessary. Do not melt the lard or Crisco, but if it is very cold, it will be difficult to mix.)
4-1/2 cups masa harina (corn meal)
1-1/2 teaspoons salt (I do use this, since it is dough and salt is often a critical ingredient)
2-2/3 cups warm water

To prepare filling, boil the chicken until very tender. I keep the skin on to help form the broth. Then drain and use two forks to shred, discarding the bones and skin. (For ground pork or beef, just proceed to the next step.)

Brown in oil in a large, indispensable cast-iron skillet and add minced garlic. Sprinkle flour over the meat and  then add 2 cups water with bullion or 2 cups of broth. Heat mixture while stirring in remaining ingredients in listed order; cover and simmer for 45 minutes. Uncover and continue simmering if necessary to ensure it is not too soupy. During that time, prepare the masa.

Vegetarian option: Because our daughter is a vegetarian, I always modify the recipe above to make some soy-crumble tamales for her. In a separate, smaller skillet, I brown some Morningstar soy crumble while I'm browning the chicken. I then divide all of the other ingredients (except for the chicken broth -- I use veggie broth) proportionally, adding about 1/4 of each ingredient to the vegetarian pan. I then assemble them and position them in the top of the steamer. Of course, the whole recipe could be made vegetarian in this way.

To prepare masa, beat the Crisco (or lard) with salt until fluffy. Mix in the masa harina and warm water, beating until very thoroughly mixed. It will be a somewhat crumbly dough.

To assemble, (next year I'll take some photos and a video at this stage) move the dishes around to create a logical lineup, like you are Henry Ford. I start by moving the skillet to the counter, putting the steamer (with water in the bottom) on the stove top, and putting the bowl of masa nearby. Closest to the stove, I put a plate I have stacked the softened, drained corn husks.

Then, I spread out each husk and coat it with a thin (maybe 1/8-inch) layer of masa, using a spoon and or my thoroughly-washed hands. I then spoon a thin strip of filling down the center of the husk. I roll one side of the husk over this carefully, so that the masa mostly covers the filling, then I fold up the narrow end of the husk, then I keep rolling to make a little package that is closed at one end. Some of the filling may be visible, but it should mostly be inside the masa and definitely inside the husk.

I then arrange the assembled tamales in the steamer. The recipe says I should be able to make 6 dozen, but I am always closer to 25 or 30, about 5 layers of 5-6 each.

Once assembled, I heat the pot until the water in the bottom boils. I used my water-proof camera to document the steaming process, which should last at least 1-1/2 hours. Perhaps because my tamales are a bit thick, I recommend 2-1/2 hours.

I had not softened enough corn husks for all of the filling and masa I had prepared, so I made tamale pies with the remainder. I simply put all the "extra" filling in the bottom of loaf pans and covered with masa. I baked these at 350 for about an hour. They were splendid leftovers!

This year I started a new tradition, which was to prepare manioc, also known as in the Caribbean as yucca and elsewhere as cassava or mandioca or tapioca -- as one of the side dishes. (Black beans were another, and home-brewed ale was another). Manioc is a root vegetable similar to potatoes, but grown in lowland tropics. It is among the most common foods in the world, but not well known in the United States. In our area, it is increasingly available in some of the larger supermarkets, even in West Bridgewater!

To prepare this, I cut the root into 3-4 inch lengths, and cut a slit in the bark-like skin along one side. This allowed me to peel the root; I then then quartered each piece. We are very fortunate that our large pasta pot includes a small steaming basket in addition to the main basket, so I was able to cook these at the same time. The result is the bland, stringy food that is a staple worldwide; it benefits from hot sauce, and from its pairing with the spicier tamales.