sybarites

We winged this one, starting with a recipe for Grilled Swordfish With North African Spice Rub. The swordfish was replaced with red snapper, the caraway replaced with cumin and the grill replaced with a pan. The vegetable couscous originally accompanied Curry Tuna Cakes.

The result was satisfactory. Much of the rub rubbed off. Most of our fish recipes have been fine, but not great. Fish seems to taste extra fishy since I’ve moved to Alberta. Perhaps that’s because I am used to eating halibut and haddock which seem very difficult to find in Calgary. I hope the flavour is not because the fish sucks.

We go to the butcher every week for great meat. Why not go to the fish market for great fish?

The polenta has foiled me for the last time!  The clouds of stupidity have lifted and I can see the light- or rather, see my mistake.  Previously, I had been bringing the water to a boil and then whisking in the polenta where it would promptly clump together and, for all intents and purposes, be done.  I totally should have added the polenta and water to the pot at the same time and THEN brought everything to a boil, then simmered it for many minutes.    Sometimes, I forget how blonde I can be.

Thus, we have Kale and Mushrooms with Creamy Polenta.  (Click on the link!  Do it! Do it!  Our picture looks just like the real one!)  Marc left me alone to make this;  it was foolish of him to trust me, really. The cloud of stupid had only just lifted, vis à vis the polenta.  And this is why I looked at the recipe, read “kale”, and took Swiss chard out of the fridge.   Inexplicable.   We had both.  I know which one is kale.  I am just challenged.

However, I followed the directions, blissfully ignorant of my mistake, and managed to produce quite a good meal.   Wild mushrooms sautéed with garlic, a little browned pancetta and its associated fats, some blanched Swiss chard;  when mixed with a little thyme and lemon and perched on top of a creamy dollop of parmesan-ed polenta, these ingredients made for a very pleasing meal.   And as I’m eating it, I’m thinking “Hey- this makes a pretty decent vegetarian entrée.”  And lo, the clouds descended once more unto the valley of my mind.

Jan was itching to make these gyoza, which we had originally made for a Christmas party. Technically, the recipe is Steamed Pork and Jicama Dumplings. They are better than most gyoza from Japanese restaurants. The jicama provides a crunch to compliment the soft ground pork.

Wonton wrappers are one of the wonders of the grocery store, along with frozen puff pastery and phyllo. These three items are difficult or impossible to make at home and open up all kinds of possibilities in the kitchen. Without them we couldn’t make Jewish Turkey-Wonton Soup, Mushroom and Goat Cheese Strudel or Moroccan-Style Chicken Phyllo Rolls. We haven’t posted any recipes with puff pastry; that’s an idea for next week.

Choosing this recipe for a weeknight was ambitous, but went surprisingly quick. The first time we made these was a bit of an ordeal. This time we didn’t bother to cut the wontons into circle, which had little impact on the end result and was a huge time saver. It was much easier to gather the edges and form the dumpling. Our teamwork finished off the dish in just over an hour.

The simple Thai Red Curry Soup With Chicken and Vegetables was a nice compliment to the dumplings. Jan was able to whip this up while we were finishing off the dumplings. It also tasted fantastic. The flavour to effort ratio was extremely high. Some of the reviews at Epicurious are accurate and entertaining:

• “Super-Bomb-Incrediblicious. Easy to make, and easier to eat”
• “This is very very tasty and pretty much idiot-proof.”

Overall, a tasty meal for a Monday night.

Thanks to a birthday gift certificate from Elsbeth, we were able to splurge on some fancy, delicious, organic coffee last week.   It’s even “hand roasted in small batches”! 

One pound of gourmet coffee beans:  $18

Counter-top Espresso Machine:  $50

Fresh Whole Milk:  $3

Fucking up the grinding of the beans on purpose so that you are barred from making cappuccinos and have to let your partner make them every morning:  Priceless.

[Please allow a brief rant…]
I read an article in one of the recent issues of Food & Wine magazine about food blogging. Mostly, the article reflected the ubiquitous astonishment at the exponential growth of the medium and the proliferation of advertising associated with it. (In fact, I read in the NY Times that Wal-Mart, in their efforts to improve their cheap-ass, monopolizing, small-town-hurting, economy-twisting, evil image, has arranged for some positive posting from various money-grubbing, sell-out, scummy bloggers.) Though in terms of food blogs specifically, the article described a few qualities that the author found particularly good and/or amusing.

He then proceeded to list a few of the criteria which, in his opinion, make a good blog, like purpose and theme and good writing. Mentally, of course, I’m checking his criteria against our blog and found I could not answer this question (his prime qualifier of a good blog): “The purpose of this blog is ______”. Hunh. I rolled that around in my head for awhile and eventually decided that I would say “recipe evaluation”. Or maybe “recipe review”, but that sounds too much like restaurant review and how many more of those animals does planet earth really need? As for good writing – well, duh. So, it has been determined—we now qualify as “good” based on one paragraph in one article outlining a stranger’s random criteria.

However, he then went on to describe what makes a really bad blog, otherwise known as “the cheese sandwich blog”. Apparently, this phrase was coined when so many people started food blogs that basically said things like “Today, I ate a cheese sandwich.” No substance, no story, no purpose, just random, JackHandy-esque thoughts. Evidently, writing without any of the above is banal, useless and generally an abuse of the blog phenomenon. And I must say, I disagree. Some of my favourite blogs, both food-related and non-food-related are decidedly theme-less and don’t purport to offer any deep wisdom, final conclusion, analysis or opinion; they’re just the humourous writings of a few people who live normal lives but who are able to capture it in such a way as to be interesting. Therefore, I shall not condemn “the cheese sandwich blog”, nor the cheese sandwich itself, for which I harbour much affection.

Now, we may begin. The subjects of this recipe review are Lemon Garlic Turkey and Parmesan Roasted Cauliflower. Let us start with the turkey, as there was a lesson to be learned there. Lesson #1: when making a special request of a surly super-market butcher, be prepared to wait at least 15 minutes and to receive something unexpected. In our case, we decided to pass over the eight-dollar turkey thigh in favour of a special-request-turkey-breast which, after 15 minutes, resulted in a $27 piece of meat. This was supposed to be our thrifty meal for the week and ended up being, by far, the most expensive. But it’s not like we could’ve handed it back over the counter with a “oh, thanks, but no thanks, that’s too expensive.” We had to take it- he was holding a cleaver. I wanted to ditch it in the cheese aisle.

Lesson #2: Even those that hate cauliflower will consent to eating it once in awhile if it is covered in cheese.

We roasted both the turkey breast and the cauliflower. The former received a generous slathering of garlic-lemon butter and frequent basting while the latter roasted away in the corner of the oven with salt, pepper and olive oil; it got the parmesan treatment post-roast. In the end, roasted turkey is always good, and this one was especially so, due, I believe, to the basting, the garlic and the butter. And the reduced au jus! I quite enjoyed the cf and Marc tolerated it—for my sake, I’m sure. Sam did some of his best begging ever.

Lesson #3: A battle of rock-paper-scissors is necessary to determine who gets to take the roast turkey leftovers to work for lunch.

I originally made the Winter-spiced Molten Cocolate Cakes for a dinner party last year. As the name suggests, they are great for a cold winter’s night. The recipe calls for ginger-rum ice cream. Softening ice cream and then folding in ginger and rum is extremely touchy. The ice cream can easily turn to ice. We didn’t even attempt it this time.

I thought the cakes would be hard to make. The outside needs to be cooked enough to hold the cake together and the center must remain raw, but warm. I’ve made them twice without much problems. As long as the batter is cold, it works out well.

Jan’s parents were coming to try the lamb recipe and her mom, Jo-Anne, really likes chocolate. We thought she would enjoy these. There is a lot of coriander, cardamom and cinnamon with a little clove and white pepper. The spices are an interesting addition and add a lot of flavour. The plating would be a little prettier if I had remembered to dust the cake with powdered sugar and top them with candied ginger. Jo-Anne couldn’t resist polishing off her smaller portion but the rest of were unable to work our way through the richness of the cakes.

I’ve been thinking of using similar ingredients and flavours to make a winter-spiced hot chocolate.

Janet left me to find something for us eat for breakfast because she was busy doing laundry. My first thoughts were eggs and toast, but there were only two eggs and the focaccia went moldy. I had to get creative with the odds and ends in the fridge. This turned out to be an inspiring challenge.

The chili sauce and cilantro in the fridge had some possibilities, but I wasn’t sure how that would go with bacon or cheese. There were more ingredients for an Italian theme. My first thought was to do the dish with toast. Holly took me to the Wildwood for brunch one day where I was served something with polenta. I can’t quite recall what it was. The polenta was a great alternative. The corn flavor complimented everything. I had criticised my plating recently, so I went vertical like we see on Made to Order.

The result was Tower of Breakfast with Bacon Roses. Starting from the bottom, the layers were:

• Broiled Polenta with Parmesan and butter
• Omelette with Pepper
• Ribbons of Sun Dried Tomato
• Spicy Italian Sausage
• Parsley
• Shaved Parmesan

I rolled up the bacon to finish off the plate. I had closed off the kitchen to make sure she say no hints of what I was making. Everything was tasty, even the sausage that had been in the freezer too long. Presentation really does make everything taste better. Jan was quite impressed. She polished off her plate well before I finished.

This is the first time, in the history of our relationship together, that Sam and I have received rabies vaccinations in the same week. Though his dosage is one third the cost of mine- I expect that’s because he weighs 40lbs. and I weigh considerably more than that. At least now, I have some sympathy for his anxiety at being at the vet’s. Poor little puppy, sitting up on that cold, metal table, too anxious to eat the treats that the vet offers and trying his best to smash his body into my arms and crawl onto my shoulders just to get off that table and away from Dr. Evil. My experience with the vaccine was much less torturous, but Marc still couldn’t watch the needle.

Anyway, as a means of soothing my conscience for exposing poor Sammy to such trauma, I feed him people food. Not that I go overboard with the treats (that’s what his Grandma is for), but if some beef short ribs should happen to be left on the plate at the end of a meal, and if those short ribs should happen to have a little bit of beef and maybe some yummy, yummy fat on them, who am I to deny this long-suffering dog his wildest dream of ecstasy?

Ergo, when we made Beef Short Ribs in Chipotle and Green Chili Sauce with creamy polenta on Saturday, Sam did get a short window of opportunity to strip a couple of nearly-bare ribs of their meat and have a good, if short, chew on the bones. He didn’t even flinch at the spiciness of the sauce, though it registered as pretty hot by my standards. Perhaps the spice didn’t have an opportunity to touch many taste buds as it was snarfed through to the belly; it’s his treat, he can eat it however he wants (but not the bone). He did spend the better part of two hours “guarding” the meat in the oven, sitting in front of that little window and making sure that the ribs didn’t accidentally fall out of the oven and into his mouth. I hope he feels it was worth all the vaccination pain and guarding/begging efforts.

I, for one, found these to be quite extraordinary. I can’t really put my finger on which spice made them so piquant but I suspect it was the chipotles. We don’t use these very often so I imagine that’s why the taste stood out so much for me- that smoky, spiciness compliments beef so well. I have a beef (ha!) with the chipotle canning people, though: who needs a cup of canned peppers in adobo? It’s too much! We freeze the remainders but months later, we will only remove that baggie from the freezer, classify it as f.u.b.a.r. and toss it, along with all our other bits and pieces of long-forgotten sauce and dough. I would complain but I’m not confident enough in my pronunciation of ‘chipotle’.

About the polenta, I must clear something up: I have no idea what I’m doing. Every time I make this, I read the directions and I follow them; they’re not complicated: boil some salted water, whisk in the polenta, simmer for 40 minutes or so, stir in butter and parmesan, done. My problem is that we must have some sort of instant polenta- I whisk it in and moments later it looks done. But there is no kind of 40 minutes of simmering. It tastes fine.. what am I doing wrong? Is there such a thing as instant polenta, like instant rice? Research results are forthcoming.

Also, we had quite possibly one of the most scrumptious salads I have made to date. I got so carried away trying to “brunoise” the damn shallots that by the time I was ready to assemble the dressing, I had about two tablespoons worth. With a little mustard, oil, champagne vinegar and some shaved parmesan, this ended up being one of the Best Dressings Ever.

For dessert, we split a $5 chocolate bar that was purchased earlier at the Cookbook Company. Actually, they ran out of the Best Chocolate Bar Ever*, so we decided to try this new one as a treat. I don’t know if chocolate, pralines and Highland Whiskey really belong together but I’m pretty certain they shouldn’t be mixed into a ganache filling, encased in “Edelherb” dark chocolate and sold in bar form. Next time, it will be Best Chocolate, or nothing.

* The Best Chocolate Bar Ever is Cafe Noir dark chocolate.

I discovered a recipe for focaccia during this week’s meal planning. It was in the same Italian cookbook as the tasty meatballs that we have neglected to post.

Rather than follow the recipes exactly, I used the leftovers and miscellanea in the kitchen to flavour the bread. One third was sun dried tomato and pine nuts; one third was basil and parmesan; and one third was rosemary and sea salt.

I did my best to ruin the whole batch. The cookbook stated to set the oven to 220. I should know that 220 fahrenheit is good for warming plates, not for baking bread. 220 celsius, on the other hand, is quite effective.

I checked the cookbook after 20 minutes and realized my mistake. 20 minutes was suppose to be the entire cooking time. We removed the bread and heated the oven to the correct temperature. Janet did her best to calm me down.

The bread was perhaps a little drier than intended. If I gave it to someone, they probably wouldn’t notice. The herbs and tomatoes dried out more than the dough. Next week I’m going back to Bob’s Restaurant Bread. The flavored breads added variety to the week, but they don’t toast so well. The all purpose flour creates a slightly cakey texture. The chewy texture from bread flour does well in the toaster.

An alignment of planets resulted in stuffed meat two days in a row. Day two’s Stuffed Pork Chops were exceptionally good, though not quite in the same league as the stuffed lamb. America’s Test Kitchen often tries to make good on some terrible, classic American dishes. They came through on this one.

I’m not sure what made the chops so moist—the butcher, the stuffing or the cooking method. The butcher provided thick meaty rib chops. The stuffing tasted of garlic, and the cream gave it a smooth texture. Searing the meat in the pan followed by fifteen minutes in the oven kept the juices in.

Given more time we would have made some apple sauce or gravy to go with them. They were still satifying on their own. I particularly liked the pretty oval slices.

Every other time I’ve eaten pork chops a large pile of fat, gristle and bone was left on my plate. I had to point out to Janet that the large strip from around the edge was nearly all meat. Sammy pointed out to us that Janet’s pork chop bone also had a large quantity of meat remaining. This caused me to start gnawing on my own. Only a small rib bone and a few small scraps of fat were left.

The smashed potatoes were also expecially good for some reason. The green beans had seen better days.