Omnomicon

Everyone knows those people who rants and raves about their Italian/German/Czechoslovakian/Whatever grandmother, her incredible cooking, and the totally amazing recipes that have been handed down for generations. Sadly, I have little to counter with. While the French French are celebrated the world over for their epicurean heritage, the French Canadian are not. Case and point: French Canadians eat frog legs, though on second thought, the French French eat snails, but they have the sense to do it with a lot more panache. My family hails (on both sides, originally) from farms outside of Three Rivers, that I cannot imagine were particularly profitable, seeing as my ancestors cascaded down to work long-ass hours for practically nothing in textile mills in New Hampshire and Massachusetts. Our culinary traditions reflect this reality, and we eat pauper food.

I have two Memeres. The differences between the two are easy to list: Memere Dubois grew up on a Quebecois farm, the daughter of mill workers; Memere LeBlanc grew up in Maynard MA, the daughter of a butcher. Memere LeBlanc has replaced her complete Pfaltzgraff set three times; Memere Dubois uses her oven to store boxes of Little Debbie. While they both can, by memory, trace roots back to Quebec, you can see how perhaps maybe their perspective on food might vary. Ever so slightly.

Okay, a lot.

But they, and everyone else in my family for that matter, can agree that Pork Pie is excellent, must be served at Christmas, and is properly consumed only with ketchup.

While Memere Dubois is a lot closer to the heritage, Memere LeBlanc is clearly the cook, which made it difficult to determine what recipe to use. Memere Dubois always buys frozen pies from some little old lady in Pinardville, and these have potato in them, which makes sense seeing as it’s a nice cheap filler. But Memere LeBlanc’s preferred recipe, naturally, called for two pounds of unadulterated pork. I decided to go with this version because it is based on an actual family recipe (the potato-pie version was definitely NOT the one Memere LeBlanc knew from memory), and pork is only $2.99 a lb, so really, it is modern-day pauper food, and thereby even more appropriate.

This is the recipe as written, though by the time this was handed to me, I already had the same pie in the oven. Boggle your mind on THAT, (or don’t…Memere gave me the recipe over the phone).

That size is a mite too small to read, but if you had crazy vision, you could see that it calls for pork butts ground twice, which is frankly unsurprising from someone who grew up around lots of meat. The tool I’d procured to follow this exacting direction really didn’t work out, so I had to settle with regular old supermarket ground pork. And the trick, she was done. Along with an onion, that pork is pretty much the only significant ingredient.

Saute ’em up.

End up with this.

Drain off the grease. Since I won’t be saving the fat for the War Production Board effort, the easiest method I’ve found is using a sieve—it is MUCH more convenient than spooning the stuff out one teaspoon at a time. I have this convenient sieve that sits in my sink.

Hhokay, so. Here we hev our meat now covered by ze water.

And then you simmer that business for an hour, mixing it up frequently to try to break up all the meat wads. If you change your mind and want to make goetta instead (which is German but somehow Memere Dubois grew up on the stuff), you can boil for an additional hour. No word on when you add the oatmeal, however.

Another strain and now we’re going to use your treasured stand mixer. This will accomplish three things:

1. It will break up the meat into uniform little granules.
2. It will mix up the spices and milk with the pork.
3. It will cool the mix much more quickly than letting it sit out.

Finally, after like, an hour and a half, you’re ready to start assembling a pie! Go you! I’ve discovered that refrigerated pre-made pie crust comes out tasting just as good as homemade and also doesn’t make me want to shoot myself in the face, so I’m pretty much never making a pie crust by hand ever again. Just sayin is all.

For some reason, pork pies are always topped the same way: a crust with about a 1″ hole in the middle to allow venting. Knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to pull it off freehand, I found a trick for cutting the hole.

(you’ll notice I can’t even position a glass in the middle of the pie on my first try, which is exactly the reason why freehanding it was such a terrible idea)

Then I attempted to protect the edges of the crust with aluminum foil.

It got a little toastier than I would have liked anyway. But at least the edges weren’t burnt, those are the best part!

And of course, as any Charbonneau, Levesque or Savoie will shout at you, you have to at least try it with ketchup. Even if you don’t think you’ll like it, that’s the right way to eat it.

French Canadian Pork Pie
Coming to you straight from Memere LeBlanc’s memory

2 lbs pork butts, ground twice (plain old ground pork seems to work as well)
1 small onion, finely diced
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground black pepper
2-3.5 c water
1/2 tsp sage powder
1/4 c milk
pinch nutmeg
pinch allspice
another 1/2 tsp ground black pepper
pie crust for a covered pie (refrigerated, frozen or your own—you decide!)

Brown pork and onions in a large skillet, breaking up meat as much as possible as it cooks. Drain grease, return to pan, and add just enough water to cover the top of the pork (this has varied for me from 2 c to 3.5 c). Simmer, uncovered, 1 hour, making sure to stir regularly (keep on breaking up the meat with your spatula). Do not let the meat dry out, though it does not need to be covered in water the whole time.

Preheat oven to 400^o. Drain meat and onions again, toss into a bowl and beat with remaining ingredients (don’t forget the extra 1/2 tsp pepper!) until almost cooled. This will take the 5-10 minutes you’ll need to prepare your double pie crust, so if you happen to have a stand mixer, it’ll come in handy.

Bake for almost an hour, or until the top looks done. Let cool 5-10 minutes before serving with a side of ketchup.

The end!

nutrition summary: 180 calories, 11g fat, 0g fiber; ~7 weight watchers points

ENLIGHTENING FEEDBACK

mizike agrees with me, which is enough to be edited in, BUT he also gave me the name of this pie.

Nothing says christmas in Quebec like Tourtiere. Serve it with a side of poutine and a bowl of split pea soup for the maximum french-canadianness possible in one meal.

The Wiki on Tourtière is enlightening and dead-on, we just always called it pork pie. My family never did the poutine thing, but split pea soup is ALWAYS on the stove just after Mom and Dad have made a ham. I salute you, mizike, fellow Franco!

Also, I totally earned some cool points from Adam, and just wanted to point out that I am always accepting cool points. Not that I need them or anything. I may even give them to charity.

Thanks to everyone who sent me Google’s cached version of my post . . . unfortunately that was what I had started with two hours prior, sans recipe, not deleted altogether, but without all the hard work of the night. I’ve been learning to click save more frequently for ten years now and, apparently, will never learn. So anyway, here’s my revised all-the-better rendition of Coffee Nut Chicken.

Remember that time I posted that thing about how to score herbs & spices on the cheap? And then when I said I had a good recipe to use them all? This is that recipe, guys! Despite the word “chicken” in the title, this is easily modified to vegetarian or vegan tastes. Easily.

The original recipe comes from Chef Paul Prudhomme’s out-of-print cookbook classic Fiery Foods That I Love, and the recipe is also available on Chef Paul’s website. I changed a few things to obviate the need for Chef Paul’s magical seasonings blends because any food with “magic” in the title is suspect to me.

Not sure if this has come up yet, but Dano is my boyfriend. I hate the phrase “my boyfriend,” because every time I use it I feel like staking out some man-meat territory. To me, it sounds like “mah buh-FRAAAND.” So now that we’re real close friends, you’ll just have to keep track of his name like all my other pals. Internet: Dano. Dano: Internet.

Anyway, I bring this up because Coffee Nut Chicken was the very first meal he ever made for me! *Awwww!* Turns out Dano can cook too, when I let him!

There are a metric shit-ton of ingredients in this recipe, so a little mis en place might be a good idea.

The puree is . . . um . . . not that pretty. But remember how there were all those delicious toasted nuts and seeds in there when someone inevitably describes it in less-than-appetizing terms.

As promised, we begin with a herbs and spices do come into play. Specifically, an 8-spice blend if you don’t count salt. There are so many ingredients involved that this recipe presents some problems with some easy solutions. On the one hand you probably are missing at least *one* of the ingredients on the list. On the other, because there are so many flavours in play, your improvised substitution won’t ruin dinner.

It doesn’t matter what kind of chicken you use. Bone-in, whole chicken, skinned, some chicken thighs, breasts . . . you know, whatever. The original calls for a whole chicken, but I tend toward chicken thighs, so that’s what’s pictured here.

Onions, naturally.

Simma!

And then serve. Please remember all the hard work that went into this dish, because without that knowledge, this is probably the last thing you’d think you’d want to put in your mouth. Remember, it’s nutty and warm and savoury with an interesting heat that comes on just as you think you’re in the clear with spiciness. And it’s positively divine on egg noodles.

Vegetarian? Oh that’s cool, it’s easy to fix. Make the sauce with a veggie stock, and instead of chicken, simmer some whole portobello mushrooms, or other sliced mushrooms in the sauce (no need to sear!). Serve over egg noodles, or for vegan types, rice. I had egg noodles on hand, so unfortunately that’s the picture you get, but I hear vegans have excellent imaginations.

Coffee Nut Chicken
modified from a recipe by Paul Prudhomme

A very important note:
Please do not try to substitute ground coffee for instant, which is not at all the same thing. Just put aside your foodie-snobbery, suck it up, and accept that sometimes freeze-dried is what’s called for. Dano made this mistake exactly once. We had pizza that night. Other than that, substitutions work well here.

Seasoning
  2 tbsp lightly packed brown sugar
  2 tsp dried ancho chili powder
  2 tsp chipotle chili powder
  (if you have no interest in fancy chili powders, substitute 1 tbsp + 1 tsp total chili powders for the
  ancho and chipotle)
  2 tsp salt
  1.5 tsp cumin
  1.5 tsp garlic powder
  1.5 tsp onion powder
  1.5 tsp oregano
  1 tsp basil
  1/2 tsp ground cloves

The Coffee and Nuts (and what they are pureed with)
  1/2 c sunflower seeds
  2 c chopped pecans
  2 tbsp poppy seeds
  2 tbsp sesame seeds
  1 cup chicken stock or broth
  2 tbsp lightly packed brown sugar
  3 tbsp instant coffee
  1 tsp ground chicory (hard to find at regular grocery stores and therefore optional)

Other stuff
  6 chicken thighs (or 3 chicken breasts halved, we’re shooting for about 1.5 lbs of meat)
  2 tbsp canola, sunflower or other high-heat oil (olive oil will burn)
  1 onion, chopped
  1 cup chicken stock or broth
  8 oz egg noodles

Mix the seasoning spices by giving them a little pinchy-pinch. Rub about 2 tbsp of the seasoning into chicken. Set aside.

Heat a large skillet to medium. Toast the sunflower seeds then the chopped pecans 5-6 minutes each, shaking the pan as they toast. Toast the poppy and sesame seeds together for 2 minutes in the same manner.

Puree the sunflower seeds, pecans, poppy and sesame seeds with 1 c chicken stock, 2 tbsp brown sugar, instant coffee and chicory in a food processor about 1 minute.

Heat the oil in the nut-skillet on high until it moves easily. Sear each side of the chicken 2 minutes, then set aside; lower heat to medium. Add 1 tbsp of the spice mixture to the pan with the chopped onion and sautee 5 minutes or until cooked. Stir in 1 cup chicken stock or broth, scraping the bottom of the pan to release the brown bits. Bring to a boil, add chicken, nut puree and spice mix, then reduce to low and simmer for another 25 minutes, or until chicken reaches an internal temperature of 160^o. If you want to make the chicken cook more quickly (but with the risk of having an extra-liquidy meal), cover and cook til the internal temperature is reached.

Now’s a good time to boil water and cook the egg noodles.

By request: finally, a vegetarian option!
I mentioned this earlier, but it bears repeating. Word-for-word, in fact, just to conserve my precious creativity: Make the sauce with a veggie stock, and instead of chicken, simmer 6 whole portobello mushrooms, or other 24 oz sliced mushrooms in the sauce (no need to sear!). Serve over egg noodles, or for vegan types, rice.

Nutrition Summary (one of six servings, using 1.5 lb chicken breast, No Yolks egg noodles): 555 calories, 6g fiber, 22g fat (but lots of the good kind, hehe); 12 weight watchers points

(using 6 portobello caps, No Yolks egg noodles): 475 calories, 8g fiber, 21g fat; 10 ww points

I just checked to make sure, and my posting schedule does not promise anything impressive on Sunday nights (*phew!*). It has been awfully busy in Casa Meadowlark in the last few days, and not much time to photograph all the very pretty foods created within . . . I cannot think of anything more rude than whipping out a camera at your own dinner party and taking pictures of everything. Even with extremely understanding and close friends present, it’s a big nono.

So even though all kinds of lovely foods abounded, all I really shot of Saturday night’s festivities was a bean dip I made on the fly. I had made Recipe Girl’s Chickpea and Spinach Salad with Cumin Dressing as a side, and for an appetizer-like veggie platter had in mind Creamy White Bean Dip from Bon Appétit (via Epicurious), but if you look you’ll notice that they share the majority of the same ingredients: lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, garlic, cumin, mint . . . all nice and thematic and essentially hummus, but these two dishes would have been a little too matchy-matchy.

Not to be put out, and still needing a fresh Spring-like veggie dip, I improvised.

And it went over well.

Red and White Veggie Dip
comfortably serves 6 as an appetizer

1 can of cannellini beans
1/2 to 1 whole roasted red pepper (I had some jarred ones on hand, but you can roast your own if so inclined)
2 small cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp curry
1/2 tsp salt
Sesame seeds to garnish (optional, naturally)

Using a food processor, blend. Garnish with sesame seeds. In addition or as an alternative, consider garnishing with finely diced fresh red pepper (as in not roasted) in addition or as an alternative to the sesame seeds. Serve as follows.

Then suddenly remember that you have some baby carrots in the fridge that might still be good. Oh, and you bought those grape tomatoes too because remember how they were on sale?

nutrition summary (1 serving of 6): 115 calories, 5g fat, 4g fiber; 2 Weight Watchers Points

Hey guys, real quick: Omnomicon now has a Facebook page and is also twittering about on Twitter. I’m not quite sure why, but I thought being better socially-networked might be to the benefit of the site. Okay, back to our regularly scheduled recipes.

The first time I had Chicken Cordon Bleu, I was somewhere around 10 years old and my Memere had taken me out for my birthday. I probably ordered mozzarella sticks as an appetizer, because that was my thing, when extremely Quebecois-accented Memere recommended Chicken Bleu, I think mostly as an educational ploy to teach me more French. “O, da Chicken Cordon Bleu! Do you know what dat means? Blue Ribbon Chicken! Huh?! Huh?! Ha!”

Chicken Cordon Bleu doesn’t seem to have a whole lot in the way of history, but according to the nominal amount of research I did on the subject, what we call Chicken Bleu is wholly American and apparently started getting mentioned in newspapers as an airline food around 1960.

Whatever, it’s really frickin good.

Chicken Bleu is simple, cheap, easy and amazingly satisfying without sitting in your stomach like a lump of lead for the following several hours. After a year of being extremely food-conscious, I was surprised to find that I still absolutely love this dish. I wouldn’t call it subtly-flavoured, but it does taste far more sophisticated than the concept would sound.

The formula is simple: swiss, ham, chicken, treat it kind of like a turducken. Most recipes call for breast, but I thought the boneless skinless thigh meat would be a bit more flavourful and tender. You are, as always, free to use your discretion on the matter.

I just used the cheap deli ham and Swiss because um, it works just fine and there’s no reason to spend a lot of money on fancy ham, if such a thing even exists. That said, I do prefer better deli supplies when I’m eating it cold.

I used toothpicks like safety pins to keep this thing together and “mend” any holes I made in the meat while I was pounding it out. But I have to point out that you really don’t want to use the coloured ones you see here because they will stain your meat, which in addition to being kind of a culinary faux pas is just grossly unappetizing.

Next up: flour, egg wash, breadcrumbs.

Twenty-five minutes is the *perfect* amount of time to bake this—the chicken is cooked but tender and the cheese is melty without being scorching. Also, because of the toothpicks, these come out looking like you fried alive something vicious.

Was Memere right or what? Yum!

Chicken Cordon Bleu
4 servings

4 boneless skinless chicken thighs or 1/2 breasts (chicken breasts are HUGE these days!)
4 slices deli ham (or prosciutto or capicola)
4 slices deli Swiss cheese (or provolone or mozzarella)
1 egg
1/4 c water
1/2 c all purpose flour
1/2 c seasoned bread crumbs
Several plain toothpicks

If your chicken breast is a little thick, you’ll want to butterfly it and tenderize with a mallet. You can try to do the same if you’re going the chicken thigh route, but it’s not likely to help you very much, so you might as well save yourself the frustration.

Cut the Swiss cheese into eight rectangles and stack. Slice the ham in half lengthwise, stack both pieces, then roll around the stack of cheese. Now create a little “meat purse” out of your chicken around the ham and cheese, and tack it up with toothpicks. Remember, no colours here unless you want polka dot chickens! The chicken will be cooked leaky-side up so that the cheese has less of an opportunity of gushing out of your creation all over the pan.

Set up three bowls for breading the chicken. The first holds flour for dusting the chicken balls; the second will have a beaten egg and 1/4 c water whisked together for an egg wash. The last will have some seasoned bread crumbs. Dip the chickens in the flour, the egg wash, then the bread crumbs. Place, toothpick side up, on lightly greased cookie sheet.

Bake 25 minutes exactly in a 350^o oven. Serve with rice pilaf.
 
 
Nutrition Summary: 260 calories, 0g fiber, 13.5g fat; 5.5 Weight Watchers Points

BONUS RECIPE

I thought this might be a good opportunity to try out making rice pilaf from scratch. I really like the stuff from the box, and it’s what most restaurants serve for rice pilaf too. Theirs tastes so much “better,” though, because they use twice the butter called for on the box, and while that sounds like complete conspiracy theory conjecture, I did learn it at the restaurant where I waitressed that one time, and have noticed it everywhere I’ve eaten pilaf since.

Turns out that making your own pilaf is pretty easy (it’s mostly just getting the ratio of rice to orzo correct), but way more time consuming and you can just add whatever seasonings you would put in your own version to the box stuff. I’ve included the recipe as a bonus for those interested.

Rice Pilaf

2.5 c water
1 c long grain rice (brown or white, your choice)
1 tbsp chicken base (from what I can tell this is pretty much the only flavouring in boxed pilaf)
1 tbsp butter
saffron (pictured, or whatever other spices you want in your pilaf)
1/4 c orzo

Bring the water to a boil in a deep pan. Doing it this way instead of in a pot makes your pilaf less likely to turn out mushy. Once boiling, add chicken base, butter and seasonings, and stir until fully dissolved. Add the rice, give a stir, then put a lid on the pan. Check the rice for doneness at 20 minutes, 30 minutes and 35 minutes, but it should take about 40-45 minutes overall.

Once you’ve got the rice going, make the 1/4 c orzo according to the box instructions.

Once the rice is tender and fluffy and done, stir in the orzo. Enjoy!

Nutrition Summary: 225 calories, 1g fiber, 8g fat; 4.5 Weight Watchers Points

Every winter when I feel like I’m particularly broke and miserable and I just want it to end, I head to the local fishmonger and blow a bunch of money on a lobster that is completely out of season. This entire practice is just so indicative of someone who is a complete New Englander, what with our long snowy winters and delicious lobsters.

Lobsters aren’t seasonal per se, but they are much cheaper between Memorial Day and the Fourth of July. The truth is, however, that hard shell lobsters are most easily found in the Spring. There is lots of information all over the internet as to why this is, but all you need to know is that a hard shell lobster feels firm when you squeeze slightly and makes for less chewy meat. Armed with this information, I figured that making these in early March isn’t the worst time.

The only fresh lobsters are live lobsters, and the best ones are spritely and healthy with an ardent will to break as you steam them alive. So let’s meet the couple we’re having for dinner, bwahaha. And yes, I mean that in a creepy Vincent Price sort of way.

This is Roberta.

We nicknamed her Bobster.

This is Shelly, for obvious reasons.

They became great friends when they were roommates in that tank.

Alright ladies, get comfortable in that strainer.

We don’t boil lobsters around here, we steam them, because boiling a huge pot of water takes for-freakin-ever, and steaming results in a less water-logged shell. Just an inch of water in a huge pot does the trick. Then steam for awhile depending on the pounds of lobster—for two 1.25 lb lobsters this amounts to about 12 minutes. You’ll need an unnaturally large pot.

And look! One of the prettiest colours in New England.

As with all delicacies, there is a catch. If you aren’t disgusted by the spiderlike appearance of these ocean bottom dwellers, you probably still understand that disassembling a lobster can be quite the undertaking without a good plan of attack, but it’s actually easier than it would seem with some handy instructions. First, twist off both claws.

Now twist off the tail.

Tail meat is a cinch, you just pull off the flippers at the end of the tail and insert your finger there to push out the meat from the top. This picture doesn’t illustrate it very well, but that’s the deal.

The claws are the real tough part here. They require a lobster cracker and I use a pair of kitchen scissors (ones I don’t mind putting in the dishwasher after the fact) to help myself out.

Lobster meat is much more lovely away from all that mess, and after being rinsed in room-temperature water.

Every time I’ve had lobster at home I’ve pulled it apart and tossed the meat into a bowl of melted butter as I went. By the time I was done the corn on the cob had cooled and soon my chin was dripping with butter as I sighed satisfied with eyes closed and a crustacean appendage entering my mouth. I understand that this scenario is only appealing to people who have experienced it, and I apologize for grossing out everyone else.

This time around I thought I’d actually *make* something with my lobster and treat it like the delicacy it is. Turns out that a particularly delicious use is Lobster Newburg, which is essentially a sherry-cream sauce that elegantly replaces the traditional serving suggestion of “float all this shit in bowl of melted butter.”

Here we go.

Before the cream is added, we coat our lobster bits with spices and butter.

Finally, the cream part comes into play and we serve the Lobster Newburg with arugula, which has a peppery taste that complements the sauce SO WELL. In fact, I ate this a lot like a salad. But the traditional garnish is watercress and baby spinach would work as well.

Lobster Newburg

The meat from 2 x 1-1.5 lb lobsters, rinsed with lukewarm water (about 6 oz)
1 c light cream, half and half, or fat free half and half
2 egg yolks
1/4 tsp salt
1/3 c dry sherry
3 tbsp butter
1/4 tsp ground black or white pepper
1/4 tsp paprika
Arugula for garnish and eating (my highest preference, but watercress is more traditional and even baby spinach makes a nice substitute)

To steam the lobsters
Fill your largest pot with about an inch of water and bring to a boil. Using either a rack that fits in over the water line or a steaming basket, place the lobsters in the pot, tail down first, and lid immediately. Continue to boil over high heat for 12-15 minutes.

If you don’t have a rack or steam basket, you can put the lobster right in the water, but keep an eye on those claws and make sure they don’t get black, which means they’re overcooked (yes, one of my lobsters in the picture was overcooked, it was the one on the bottom).

To make the newburg part
Heat the half and half in pan over medium heat, making sure not to scald it. Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks with salt and sherry. Add the egged-sherry to the half and half, whisk, and cook over low heat until thickened enough to coat a spoon. This should take 6-8 minutes.

In another saucepan, melt the butter over low heat and add paprika and pepper. Add lobster meat to coat, then pour the cream/sherry mixture and heat thoroughly.

Serve with arugula, watercress or baby spinach. Melt into a puddle of satisfaction.

Hello friends!

Being an American, at least in my case, means wondering about the lifestyles of our elegant cousins overseas—you know, the British. Whenever an American does an impression of a Briton, they typically involve some mention of “tea and croompets!” and overexaggerate the accent with pursed lips. This makes me feel like a jerk for even mentioning, but I’m sure the British have some classic impressions of a Southern drawl that I am just dying to hear. More interesting would be an impression of an accent-neutral American reading a news report or talking about their SUV.

So when choos & chews featured some particularly lovely looking crumpets, I thought I’d give them a try.

Immediately, I ran into a problem: crumpet rings. Apparently this is something common in other areas, but not readily available in New England. I found some egg rings that would do the trick, but for $2 apiece. And then, brilliance struck: cookie cutters. Multi-functional, cheap, and way more fun than an egg ring.

But first, the batter.

Just add yeast.

. . . and wait awhile until it becomes a bubbly, thick batter.

Okay, and NOW the fun begins. Because the batter is so thick, the rings are really there just to keep them from spreading too much. Butter in your shapes is pivotal.

As with all things, however, there’s a catch: the more intricate shapes really just don’t cut it. Some worked out great, but it seemed to be a coincidence. I’m sad my little stegosaurus didn’t work out (he’s the one to the right there).

Simpler shapes worked out better.

Fortunately some of my favourites stayed intact enough for a crumpet diorama.

This is the childlike story being illustrated: a car fell in a ditch and an airplane flew by, so the pilot called a tow truck but they were all picking up other cars, so then an elephant walked by and said he would pull the car out. The airplane stayed in case they needed any more help.

The end.

I liked the car the best.

Speaking from experience, these are FANTASTIC with some homemade butter. And also, just a smidge of apricot preserves, which I have recently come to embrace.

Crumpets!
brought to me by choos & chews, but adjusted for American audiences

1.25 c flour
1/2 c milk
1 tsp instant yeast (referred to as bread machine yeast at my grocery store)
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbsp water, room temperature, divided
1/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp butter

Mix up the flour, milk, yeast, sugar and salt. Add 1 tbsp water; beat slowly for a bit, then on medium until totally smooth. Cover and let sit for an hour.

Dissolve the baking soda with the 2 tbsp water and add to batter, stirring to combine. Put the batter aside, again, for a half hour. At this juncture, it will be poofy and bubbly and thick.

Butter your crumpet rings/cookie cutters WELL, especially if you are using shapier cookie cutters. Heat pan to medium, grease with butter, place the cookie cutters in and spread batter into them about 2/3 of the way in. Don’t waste too much time trying to account for the little details of the cookie cutters, as those things are cooking and you want to be able to flip them all about the same time.

Once the bottom is browned, pop the crumpets out of their shapes and flip. Continue to cook until the new bottom is browned and cool on a rack.

Toast. Butter. Top. Eat with tea and a nod across the pond.

I am pleased to announce Omnomicon’s very first giveaway! And not bad for a first, if I say so myself.

It all started with a dear reader, noinamg, sending me the following email.

i would like to pose you a challenge if i may

i would like something to do with my Route 11 Mama Zuma’s Habanero (the red bag ones)
they are so spicy that even one chip is like hell in your mouth. since i cannot actually eat these, do you have a suggestion for a dish to use them in somehow?

Well, man, I do believe I can oblige, courtesy of the fine folks at Route 11.

This chick is badass. Wickedly badass. Also, a total babe.

I guess the word they’re going for here is really “hot,” and though hot chicks rarely have anything to do with habaneros, they certainly can’t hurt sales, right? These are like really good bbq chips, except particularly tongue-burning. They’re almost diet friendly in that you have to take a little bit of break between chips.

Really hot potato chips with an actual flavour to boot. It’s a good thing.

So here’s the giveaway: I will be sending out two bags of Mama Zuma’s Habanero Chips to two randomly-chosen readers. Would you like to win some? Leave a comment before 6pm EST Friday, March 6th describing what you would do with your Mama Zuma’s. (American readers only–apologies to my foreign friends, but I’m sending these out on my own dollar and funds are low).

Will you be enjoying them crunched into your tuna fish sammich? I can’t be the only one who does that. Perhaps slipping some to your Indian friend who keeps bragging about how white people don’t know what truly spicy food is. Or maybe even giving my recipe below a polite little shot. At the very least, it has a topical and interesting title.

Noinmang, you’re on. We’re making Mama Zuma’s Red Hot Gams.

First de-skin, de-fat, rinse and pat dry some chicken thighs to give yourself a nice fresh non-slimy surface. As I happen to be in possession of a veritable plethora of kitchen towels, I reserve one specifically for these kinds of things.

Next we’re going to flour, butter, then chippy the thighs and in that order. It helps conserve resources by using bowls that just barely fit a single thigh, particularly the chips. I found that one 2 oz bag of Mama Zuma’s crumbled up to *just* enough for four thighs.

Next is a dunk in butter to make the chips stick, and then the crumbled chips.

Now we bake for a bit. In the meantime, let’s prepare a little something in case the chicken’s still too much. It’s a pretty simple yogurt/cucumber/parsley concoction that might also work well as a lighter alternative to blue cheese dressing for your buffalo wings. Essentially, the only prep here is in a food processor.

And ohhhhh man. What a meal this made.

Mama Zuma’s Red Hot Gams

4 chicken thighs (bone in our out, your choice)
2 oz Mama Zuma’s Revenge Habanero Potato Chips (one bag) [in a real pinch you can use your favourite brand of hot potato chips, or even plain ones if you’re not into the spicy thing]
3 tbsp butter, melted (no worries, you won’t be using all of it)
1/4 c flour

Preheat oven to 375^o.

Remove the skin and trim the fat from the chicken thighs, unless they came skinned and boneless. Now rinse the thighs and pat dry.

Crumble the Mama Zuma’s in the bag until a rough but not fine consistency.

For “breading” the chicken, using the smallest bowls you have that will fit the thighs is the best way to economize your ingredients. First flour the chicken on both sides, dip quickly in butter and let drip dry a few moments before grinding the chicken into the chip crumbles. Really grind it in there, and on both sides; you want the chips to be all pokey into the surface, as they’ll stay better that way.

Place chicken on a cookie sheet and pat in any remaining chip crumbs, since they’re already contaminated and preciously delicious.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until the meat reaches an internal temperature of 165. Serve with . . .

Aleta’s Mama Zuma Antidote: Cucumber Chill-Out Sauce

1/2 c yogurt
about 2 tbsp loosely packed parsley leaves
1″ of cucumber, peeled and chopped
1 tsp lemon juice
pinch of salt

Put all that stuff up there into a food processor and process for a minute or so, until the cucumber is ground. Add an extra 1″ of cucumber, dice, to the finished sauce, if desired.

Don’t forget to leave your comment if’n you’d like to give Mama Zuma’s a try! Contest closes Friday at 6pm EST.

Hello!

Let’s make a shrimp ceviche today. It’s light and delicious and awesome for a dinner party . . . you can make it the day ahead and serve as an impressive appetizer. I’ll be honest, this was inspired pretty directly by Mezcal Cantina, a prime example of the fine dining that surprises the Worcester visitor who isn’t scared away by gang warfare.

Okay, I exaggerate, but that’s the unfortunate perception.

This recipe has all the good, normal, safe ceviche stuff: cilantro, lime juice, shrimp, hot peppers (in this case, serrano), and red onion. And then there are some extra ingredients that make it extra special: sweet potato, coconut juice (also called coconut water, and definitely NOT coconut milk, which is much thicker), toasted coconut as a garnish, and the big un: TEQUILA! Let’s get all crazy on this ingredient list.

Here we go!

And the one ingredient I couldn’t fit in the same shot as the Patron.

The tequila isn’t alcohol-y, the peppers give just a hint of spice, and the sweet potatoes are so uninterruptive to the flavour as long as they’re cooked enough.

In a true ceviche the raw shrimp is “cooked” by the lime juice. From what I understand, most shrimp is flash-frozen before it’s even off the boat, so this is probably a safe method. Even still, I feel a little weird about it, even though I know the texture is divine. So as a compromise, I lightly steamed them in their shells.

Immediately chill to cease the cooking process.

Now chop the shrimps in thirds. And anally arrange their shells in the background there.

Steep in lime juice in your fridge for about an hour.

Boil the sweet potato (I guess it’s also called a yam?) for 25 minutes, then chop into 1/4 inch cubes.

Strain the coconut chunks out of the coconut juice. I see no reason not to leave it in, but the juice really does the job as far as flavour.

And cilantro and serrano peppers and sweet potato and the coconut juice and of course, a shot of tequila.

Chill that business for an hour as well. In the meantime, toast some coconut.

And oh man, just look at that.

It’s as delicately delicious as it looks. Promise.

Coconut Sweet Potato TEQUILA Shrimp Ceviche
inspired by Mezcal Cantina, Worcester, MA

1 lb thawed raw shrimp, tails on
about 10 oz lime juice
1/2 sweet potato
1 small red onion, chopped finely and rinsed
2/3 c chopped cilantro, plus more for garnish if desired
2 Serrano chiles
1 can coconut water (also called coconut juice, and again: do not use coconut milk)
1 shot tequila of your choice . . . and Patron is CHOICE!
1/4 c coconut, toasted

First, boil a pot of water, drop in a scrubbed sweet potato and let boil for 25 minutes. When it’s done, let it sit in a strainer for a little while to cool off.

A note on the shrimp: if you don’t care the difference, feel free to use thawed, pre-cooked shrimp. But I would assume you’re only doing that because you’ve never cooked raw shrimp yourself and therefore don’t know that it is about a thousand times better. Here’s how to do that:

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Drop the shrimp, leave it in there for about two minutes, then skew the lid and drain the pot, leaving the shrimp inside. Let steam in that manner for 8-10 minutes, depending on how nervous raw shrimp makes you. Pour shrimp into a shallow dish and litter the dish with ice cubes to stop the steaming. Once cool, shell and chop into thirds. Put the shrimp in a bowl and cover with lime juice. Chill in the fridge for 1 hour.

Next!

Finely chop the red onion, then rinse in a strainer; this seems to keep the flavour milder. Roughly chop 2/3 c cilantro. Cube half of the sweet potato into 1/4″ cubes, discarding any cubes that still have a crunch to them. Slice the serrano chiles in half, but don’t chop them up . . . they’re just lending flavour to the juice, we’re not putting these in our mouth.

Strain the coconut water into a bowl, add the tequila, stir, and then add the onions, cilantro, sweet potato and chiles. Stir to mix, then fridge it for an hour.

While you’re waiting the practically unbearable hour for all that stuff to mingle, clean your kitchen and toast the coconut. Sprinkle the flakes on a cookie sheet and place in a 300^o oven for 5-10 minutes. They’ll look pretty browned, but you really just want to make sure they don’t outright burn. See the picture, this coconut was perfect.

Strain the shrimp, reserving about 1/4 c lime juice. Throw the shrimp and the reserved juice in with the onion/cilantro mixture.

If you’re really looking to impress, serve in a margarita glass. If you’re like me, who drinks iced margaritas out of pint glasses, serve in one of your three martini glasses.

Either way, sprinkle with the toasted coconut, garnish with with some extra cilantro, and serve.

Just like your half-Polish, half-Italian grandmother used to make!

Everyone who’s ever had pierogies loves them. Unless they don’t like potato, cheese, pasta or butter, in which case they are clearly mad. I have yet to make pierogies, but I have a little ace up my sleeve called pierogi lasagna. It’s very easy, if time consuming.

Recovering carbophiles may wish to avert their eyes, lest they become entangled in the enticing mesh of potatoes and pasta. On the other hand, this dish is relatively low fat (remember, the butter is being distributed among 12 servings, and I found that fat free cheddar did the trick quite adequately), and they sit like a brick in your stomach, so you’re not likely to want more than one piece of the stuff.

We begin, predictably, with potatoes. These are some of the most beautiful reds I’ve seen in a long time.

The skin was so lovely, in fact, that I left it on. That’s my usual preference anyway, though.

Stir in some cheddar and sour cream. I left out the butter, for now.

Sautee a sliced onion in a 1.5 sticks of butter. This is why there was no butter in the potatoes.

Now we begin the lasagna part of all this. Spread a little onion-butter on the bottom of a 9×13 baking dish.

Lay down some noodles.

Spread potatoes little by little. It helps to drop a dollop, then spoon it out, working row by row along the noodles.

And then some onions and butter on top of that.

Repeat that a few times, then top with noodles and the rest of the butter and onions. There should be more of this stuff on top than in any of the layers.

Bake for 20 minutes and you get this.

Use your baking time as an opportunity to fry up some kielbasa. Enjoy the hell out of it.

Pierogi Lasagna

1 lb lasagna noodles
4 lbs red or white potatoes
1/4 c sour cream (optional)
1/2 c milk
2 c shredded cheddar cheese
3/4 c butter (1.5 sticks)
1 onion, sliced in rings

Cook the noodles. Chop potatoes into 1″ cubes, place in pot of cold water (enough to cover), and allow to come to a boil. Continue boil until potatoes are soft enough to yield to a fork stab. Drain, mash, blend with a mixer. Toss in the optional sour cream and milk, mix some more. Add salt to taste. Stir in cheddar.

Melt all the butter over medium-high heat, then sautee onion until the rings no longer hold their shape.

Preheat oven to 375. Grease the bottom of a 9×13 baking dish with some of the onion-butter. Lay noodles on the bottom of the dish, then spread the potatoes, a dollop at a time, along the length of each noodle. Once done, smooth the potatoes, then spread about a quarter of the onion on top, and drizzle a small amount of butter as well. Repeat this twice (or more if your dish can accommodate), then top with noodles and the remainder of the onions and butter.

Pop in the oven for 20 minutes. Allow to cool 10 minutes before cutting and serving.

It’s getting chilly, isn’t it, friends? Time to bust out the belly-warming goodness of winter veggies and heavier fare.

This is yet another recipe belonging to the Family Cookbook. My Memere Rita INSISTS that she has the best beef stew recipe. Once my father made the mistake of mentioning “well, Doris [my mother] has a pretty good recipe herself,” my memere was in complete disbelief. No no, her soup was clearly the best, and none would compare.

I’m not sure how long ago this battle raged, but when my mother requested recipes of the Mater Familias, this one was sent, no doubt to prove a point. Now I love my mother dearly, and her beef stew is excellent, so I was a little defensive about the whole situation and didn’t want to like this stew. It contains veggies I’d never used before, but I went outside my comfort zone and, ironically, ended up with a new comfort food.

The broth is sweet owing to these mysterious turnips and parsnips, standard fare in many households, but not the one in which I grew up. I thought the recipe could use a bit more colour, so I threw in some celery. And oh my, if you serve this to a friend with some Tuscan bread, you may very well earn a friend for life.

Here we go! Don’t tell Memere I let the veggies get that close to the meat before it was cooked okay? Thanks dude, I appreciate that.

Now we do the choppy chop.

First step is to sear the beef. Memere wisely used the oil and butter method, in which you use two tablespoons of each. I try to keep my recipes lower cal wherever possible, but I am a meat LOVER and searing your meat on high in oil and butter is hands-down the best way to do it. For stew, it is no different.

At this point, I sauteed the onions and almost broke down and just dug in the way it is. Because there is no more amazing combination in my world than steak and onions.

Now we’re gonna start with our other veggies. Each is added one at a time in league with a cup or two of water. At first I was a little frustrated at the vagueness of this. “One to two cups?! Memere, just tell me how many cups already!” I think the idea is to make sure that all your veggies are at least partly in the water with each addition. Oh, and every time you add something, let it return to a boil before adding the next.

Carrots

Celery

Turnips

Parsnips

And potatoes!

Now you let this bad larry simmer for a little while and you end up with this little number here.

Wrap yourself in a blanket on the couch and enjoy!

Memere Rita’s “Back to My Roots” Beef Stew

2 tbsp oil
2 tbsp butter
1.5 lbs sirloin beef, lean cut, cut into 1/2″ cubes
1 yellow onion, chopped
4-5 carrots, peeled & sliced
4 ribs celery, sliced (editor’s addition, optional)
1 purple tap turnip, peeled & diced (I googled this term, and I think she means the small turnip. I could only find a large, so I used half of it)
4-5 parsnips, peeled & sliced
4-5 potatoes, peeled & diced

Let oil and butter get HOT on the stove, then sear beef for about two minutes. Reduce heat, add chopped onion and sautee to caramelize.

Now add each vegetable in turn with 1-2 cups hot water (just enough to cover most of the vegetables). After each addition, allow the pot to return to a boil:

Carrots
Celery
Turnips
Parsnips
Potatoes

After the potatoes, give it a good stir. I wouldn’t recommend stirring it again after it’s simmered, or your veggies will kind of fall apart in a mushy mess. Let simmer, uncovered, 30-50 minutes. Season to taste (and salt is an excellent idea here).

Serves 8 exhausted, growing farm boys. Reheats well.