A Chip Off The Old Blockhead - Corn Casserole

I like science fiction.  All kinds of science fiction - Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate SG-1, Robert Heinlein, Frank Herbert's Dune, the Marvel universe, Babylon 5, Buckaroo Banzai, Battlestar Galactica (only the reboot), Farscape, and at the top of my list, Doctor Who.  Not surprising, then, that I have the unshakeable belief that I gave birth to this child in another dimension.

Cory and his foster mom

I say this because he is so much like me, that I sometimes forget it was another dear lady who gave birth to him in Seoul, South Korea.  At least that's what happened in this universe, where I spend most of my time.  Cory writes like me - weird, wistful, wordy, full of passion and a touch of righteous indignation.  Like me, he has his low moments, sadness which springs from nowhere but can ruin an otherwise beautiful day.  Like me, he always bounces back.  And he cooks - not just from recipes, but from inspiration.  That is a recent innovation, one with good results, like his smoked salmon flatbread.

Recently, Cory was invited to a potluck pre-Thanksgiving dinner.  After some consultation with his personal cooking guru (me), he decided on making a corn casserole.  The recipe he used was, at my suggestion, off the web from Paula Deen.  Turns out it was different from my corn casserole recipe, but I've never had anything but good luck with Paula's recipes, and this was a very easy version of an old southern standby ("quintessentially southern" is how I referred to it in the November 22, 2014 post.) Cory ran with it (I had to practically handcuff myself, an incurable buttinsky, to the dishwasher to restrain from grabbing the wooden spoon) and did a wonderful job.  The smell in the house was absolutely lovely.

But the next day, my son said to me, "Mom, it was good but I think it could have been better.  I would have liked it a little sweeter."  My brilliant, intuitive son with the well-developed palate had discerned what it had taken me, early in my cooking career, a few years to figure out - corn dishes taste better with a touch of sugar.

So a few days later, the boy has another potluck - I love potlucks, I love this time of year - and he decides to try again, this time with my recipe, which is by no means an original.  I got it from a friend, who got it from his mom, who used to be a First Lady of a certain jurisdiction.  I've made it many times since then, as it goes well with lots of stuff besides turkey.  I particularly like to make it as part of a buffet with chili, beef burritos, chicken enchiladas, and Paula Deen's Savannah red rice. I tweaked it ever-so-slightly, but I just can't help myself.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  While the oven is preheating, place the butter in a 9 x 13 inch pan.  When the butter is melted, remove immediately from the oven and set aside to cool.

2 boxes Jiffy cornbread mix
2 tall cans of creamed corn
2 cans of sweet corn, drained
2 eggs
2 sticks butter, melted and cooled
2 pints sour cream
1 1/2 cups whole milk
2 teaspoons sugar
shredded cheddar and/or pepper jack cheese, to taste

Combine all the ingredients and mix well.  Add some of the grated pepper jack cheese into the batter. Turn into the greased pan and bake for about an hour.  The batter will puff up nicely and then become firm, and the top should be golden brown.  Once it's done, remove from the oven and immediately sprinkle the top with the cheddar cheese.  It will melt on its own.

Cory made one half of this recipe which yielded two small casseroles, one which he brought to his office potluck, and the other which he offered as an addition to our holiday menu.  It was splendid.

Cory and his cookin' cousins 

Last Cat Standing - Devilled Eggs

I woke up the other day with a cat sleeping on my outstretched hand.  He was curled up as cats do, a low-grade purr buzzing in his throat.  I hated to wake him up, but I had eggs to devil.

This cat, my only cat, is the Last Cat Standing.  Throughout my adult life, I have shared my home and office with numerous cats.  The last time I had just one cat was 1978.  The highest number was eight or was it nine at a time?  That, plus the three Yorkies in residence, classified us as a bona fide menagerie.  As time went on, each of my kitties, as well as some of my Yorkies, left us to go to Rainbow Bridge, each time taking a piece of my heart with them.

Ira and baby Anakin

On August 28th, last year, I lost the feline love of my life, Ira. That left just one, Darth Kitten, usually known as Anakin Skywalker. Ani, Nanny Boo. My baby.

His mother left him on my doorstep when he was 2 1/2 weeks old.  He waited for her to come back and she never did.  We took him in, and with Athene's help I was able to get the little guy past the bad  times.  No baby cat should be separated from his mother before 8 weeks, but these were exigent circumstances and we did the best we could.

He was a scrappy little thing, desperate to eat and equally desperate to avoid any attempt to clean his little muzzle after smearing it with formula.  He was a hyperactive bundle of baby cat energy, and an incipient escape artist.  When we were looking for the right name for him, my unsentimental husband said we should call him Darth Kitten.  I thought that was a bit harsh.  Rob insisted he was a devil cat and a baby Sith Lord.  I saw the good in him and named him Anakin.  Anakin Skywalker Rothfeld.  After seven years, I have to admit he does have his Darth Cat moments, but they are few and far between, especially since he is now the recipient of all the attention previously lavished on his many feline brothers and sisters.

So it was the little devil cat - he clearly was the runt of the litter - that had me pinned down that morning. In his honor, I added a little shrimp to the devilled eggs.  (Get it?  Devil cat with shrimp?  Ouch, that's worse than my last pun.

Let's set some ground rules here - I don't know when some American lexicological genius decided to change the spelling, but the British still spell the name of this recipe correctly, with two L's.  Spelling it "deviled" makes no sense, at least according to the spelling rules I was taught at P.S 119 in Brooklyn, circa 1960.  Spell it that way, the only way you can pronounce it is de-VEYE-led, just like defiled.  Seriously?  Defiled eggs?

Devilled eggs are easy to make, and a great culinary canvas for the creative cook.  There are so many different variations as to constitute a statistical universe, and they are (almost) all delicious.  The ones I've included below are very close to the traditional mayo and mustard mix.

To hard cook the eggs:  Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Place the eggs into muffin tin cups and bake for 30 minutes.  Fill a large bowl with ice water and place the finished eggs into the bowl until cool enough to handle and peel.  After they are peeled, return them to the ice water bath to finish chilling.

Good Basic Devilled Eggs

8 hard cooked eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon pickle juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/8 teaspoon salt
white pepper
a few drops Crystal hot sauce
1 teaspoon fresh dill, finely chopped

Garnish:
Smoked paprika
Dried parsley flakes (crumbled)

Cut the eggs in half and remove the yolks to a medium mixing bowl.  Mash with a fork until they are completely broken up.  Add the remaining ingredients and mix with the fork until smooth and fluffy.  Pick out the best 12 egg white halves.  Fill them with the yolk mixture using a small spoon or a piping bag.  Garnish with the paprika and parsley.  Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.  If holding longer, cover and return to the fridge.

Another Good Basic Devilled Egg with a Shrimp Garnish

12 hardcooked eggs
1/2 cup mayo
2 teaspoons French's yellow mustard

Follow the above directions for preparing the yolks and filling the eggs.  Pick out your 20 best egg white halves.

For the garnish:
1/3 cup Goya Mayo-Ketchup (Salsa Rosada)
Salt, pepper, dried dill weed, cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon lemon juice
20 frozen extra small cooked shrimp, defrosted under cold water, drained and patted dry

Combine the first three ingredients in a small bowl.  Cover and refrigerate for an hour.  Fold in the shrimp and return to the refrigerator for an hour.  Remove each shrimp from the dressing, let some drip off and carefully place on top of an egg half, pressing the shrimp gently into the yolk.

The Worst of Headaches, The Best of Worstenbroodjes - Pigs in a Blanket

A handful of Advil and two cups of coffee for breakfast and I've managed to hold the headache at bay. Now THAT'S a good morning.

In recognition of my Dutch heritage, I am going to write about that utterly delicious, minimally nutritious snack food, worstenboodjes.  Peter Capaldi would call them kilted sausages.  Most Americans would call them:

"Maxwell"

Pigs in a blanket.  Wonderfully yummy, pure retro, overwhelmingly kitschy little hors d'oeuvres that have survived any and every food fad and diet since 1968.

You know you love them, don't deny it.  Pigs in blankets are the first appetizer to run out, even at the toniest weddings, assuming the parents of the bridezilla were smart enough to include them on the menu.  As an at-home fun food, they are easy to make and the different flavor combinations are countless.  I was lucky to find crescent dough in a seamless sheet at BJs, which gave me plenty of dough to play with.

I tried preparing my worstenboodjes from little smokies, and also from Sabrett hot dogs.  I cut the dough first and then wrapped each little individual sausage; I wrapped the whole hot dogs in a whole sheet of dough, baked them and then cut them; and also wrapped a whole hot dog, cut it into bite-sized pieces, and then baked them.  Obviously you are not limited to hot dogs; any fully cooked sausage will work.

Condiments to dip into before and after baking.  Once rolled in dough, bake for 11 to 12 minutes.

Or stuff that puppy with mozzarella, drizzle a little garlic olive oil over the cheese and shower with Italian seasoning.  Place the stuffed sausage on dough that has been dressed with a line of sun-dried tomato pesto.  Close it up, pinch the dough, cut each wrapped sausage into six pieces and place seam side down on a baking sheet.  Place into a 375 degree oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.

To tell you the truth, the best ones are the little dogs, either cocktail franks or little smokies, individually wrapped, with the dipping sauce in a little bowl nearby.  Toothpicks optional.

The Fry Who Loved Me - Spritely Fried Green Tomatoes

When I moved to Florida in 1991, I was almost 40, and had already prepared something on the order of 10,314,424,798,490 meals for family, friends, coworkers, a couple of enemies and passing strangers. Despite that, I had never prepared nor even tasted a fried green tomato. Or grits. Or the iconic collard green.  Clearly, there was a serious lack in my culinary education.  While Florida is often referred to as "the least southern of the southern states" the truth is that you are much more likely to find grits rather than hot oatmeal on a Florida breakfast menu.

A tomato down south is not merely a colorful accompaniment for a wedge salad - instead, chefs fry the green ones like a slice of eggplant for a nice Italian parm, or make pies out of the red ones.  Yes, tomato pie.  Unbelievably good.  When I find a decent green tomato that is NOT cozying up to its riper, red cousin, I grab it, segregate it from all the other fruit and vegetables in the shopping cart, and rush it home before it begins to show the slightest blush of pink.  If I am not going to use it immediately, I put it in the refrigerator to slow down the ripening process, while the red tomatoes sit out on the counter at room temperature.

You've met these green tomatoes before.  I finally got around to frying them. 

3/4 cup self-rising flour

1/4 cup cornstarch

3/4 cup Sprite or 7-Up

1/8 teaspoon cayenne powder

1/4 teaspoon white pepper

dash each of salt and onion powder

canola oil for frying

First, get the tomatoes ready.  Slice them into just under 1/2 inch slices, 5 to 6 slices from each tomato.  Lay them out on a rack over the sink, and salt both sides using kosher salt.  Let them sit for a half hour, then rinse off the salt with cold water.  Pat the tomatoes as dry as possible with paper towels.  You can see that some of the tomatoes were turning red despite my best efforts.  Once a tomato is too far down the Communist road, don't bother to fry it.

In a medium mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients and seasoning and then whisk in the Sprite until the mixture has a consistency like pancake batter.  Heat about an inch or two of oil in a deep skillet.  Dip each tomato slice into the batter, let the excess drip off, and slide the tomato into the hot oil.  Repeat with the other tomato slices, half at a time.  Fry until brown on each side and then remove to a rack placed over foil.  

I don't have a recipe for any particular dipping sauce, although we've used commercial creamy horseradish sauce when I've breaded the tomatoes during other high frying adventures.  This time, we tried something else, and it was a fabulous flavor fusion.

Definitely worth a trip to Georgia, even if it's not peach season.

"Rap-a-Rap-a-Rap, They Call Him the Wrapper" - Miniature Braciole

Today's ear worm is brought to you courtesy of those one-hit wonders, The Jaggerz:

Hey girl, I betcha, there's someone out to get ya,

You'll find him anywhere, on a bus, in a bar, in a grocery store.

He'll say "excuse me, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

[Chorus:]

Rap-a-rap-a-rap, they call him the Rapper.

Rap, rap, rap, know what he's after.

Another wedding-weekend-in-Georgia story:  I know I mentioned in an earlier post that the food was delicious.  One of the best things I tasted was a delicate canape, a smoked salmon roll-up that was enhanced with a bit of cucumber, like a good California roll.  The wrap itself was light, but held its shape well.  I have made roll-ups in the past, but always using a flour tortilla as the wrapper, which is actually pretty good.  I would love to use lefse, the Norwegian potato flatbread, but I've had no luck finding it.  I've tasted it, though, during stops at Scandinavia during EPCOT's Food and Wine celebrations, and I just love the way it works so perfectly.  Unable to find lefse, I decided to try another wrapper - a premade crêpe, available in the produce department.

First I wanted to test the crêpe with a really easy filling, so I opened up a container of Sabra brand roasted pine nut hummus, and container of tabouleh.  I've made this roll-up a number of times, using the flour tortillas and then slicing the rolls into 1/2 inch pinwheels after having let them chill in the refrigerator for a couple of hours.  Delicious little finger food, always appreciated by my guests.

So I wrapped up the tabouleh and hummus in a crepe, rolled it in plastic wrap and set it in the fridge for a few hours.  I couldn't wait to taste it, and when I did -

Ack!  As the Mythbusters always warn us, do NOT try this at home! Awful. What can I say?  I threw the rest out and considered myself lucky for having not made up a whole bunch of those dreadful rolls.  At least this way, I still have most of the ingredients left to put to much better use.

Because that was so awful, I feel guilty, and when I feel guilty, I offer food.  I also offer food when I feel happy, sad, depressed, ecstatic, or anywhere along the full spectrum of human emotion.  I am totally predictable, and a really lousy poker player.

So here is my recipe for a different kind of wrapped and rolled food, and these are absolutely delicious on their own, or as part of an old-fashioned Italian Sunday sauce for pasta.

Miniature Braciole

1 to 1 1/4 pounds of eye round steak, thin sliced
kosher salt
coarse black pepper
granulated garlic
Italian seasoning
Six Cheese Italian blend, or any grated Italian hard cheese
panko bread crumbs
capocollo, thin slices (I used the 3 oz. package of Daniele brand, which I found in Walmart, of all places)
1 roasted red pepper, from a jar, drained and patted dry, and cut into even pieces (see the photos, below)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2/3 cup white wine
1 - 24 oz. jar marinara sauce (I used Bertolli Fire Roasted Tomato Marinara with Cabernet Sauvignon)

You will need kitchen twine and a Dutch oven that can be used both on top of the stove and in the oven.

The package of "steaks" I picked up were already sliced very thin, not more than one-quarter inch.  I pounded them with the flat side of the meat mallet, just to flatten a bit and insure they were rollable.

I have a very bad habit of overstuffing ingredients, and so I resolved to stuff the braciole with a very light hand.  Each little steak was sprinkled lightly with the salt, pepper, garlic, Italian seasoning, and the Italian cheese.

A slice of the capocollo is placed on top of the cheese, and then a piece of the red pepper.  I used regular, rather than hot capocollo, but if you want to blow the top of your head off, who am I to stop you?

The steak is rolled up from the short end, encasing the roasted red pepper.  For each roll, I cut two pieces of kitchen twine, and tied the rolls closed.  Season the rolls with salt and pepper, and then -

In the Dutch oven, heat the olive oil.  Start browning the little rolls, seam side down, and cook on all sides until browned but not done all the way.  The meat will continue to cook in the sauce.  Pour in the wine, bring to a boil, pour in the sauce, stir, lower the heat, and then partially cover the pot with aluminum foil.  Place in a preheated 350 degree oven.  Baste with the sauce after 30 minutes, then again after another 30 minutes.  Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning.  Place back in the oven for another 30 minutes, for a total of 90 minutes, or until the meat is very tender.  Serve the little braciole whole, 2 or 3 to each person, spooning over some more of the sauce.  The sauce is really tasty from the meat and capocollo as well as the added wine, so don't forget the pasta.

Hang on, Soupy - Simply Soothing Salmon Soup

Hang on sloopy, sloopy hang on
Hang on sloopy, sloopy hang on
Sloopy lives in a very bad part of town
and everybody else, tries to put my sloopy down

Sloopy I don't care, what your daddy do
Cuz you know sloopy, girl, I'm in love with you

I'm in love with soup from Wawa, but Wawa had no soup. Perhaps what I should have done is hire the famous detective Philo Kvetch to investigate exactly why the Wawa on 192, across from the Kissimmee Walmart, was soupless at lunchtime.  I had made up my mind that soup was the only way to go, if indeed I planned on getting some form of nutrition down my gullet.  And that was my plan, because breakfast had been a total wash, like dinner the night before.  

My disppointment was palpable, and that led to just a touch of mental confusion.  Outside of the courtroom, I get rattled easily. What I ended up ordering for lunch was so far from the soothing soup I'd planned for, I'm embarrassed to admit it over the internet.  Three bites and it was all over.

So if I wanted soup, I was going to have to prepare it myself, and that's exactly what I did at dinner time, raiding my pantry for cans of this and that.  I really did enjoy it, and Cory said it was "fantastic".  You will have to judge for yourself.  

You may notice that while this is similar to a fish chowder, there are no potatoes.  Proper application of culinary license on my part.  I think they would detract from the delicate salmon flavor.  Same with the addition of thyme, one of my favorite herbs, especially in chowders.  Like my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Campbell, taught us about the use of commas "when in doubt, leave it out."  Good advice anytime.  Speaking of Campbell's you can't help but notice that I used not one, not two, but three types of condensed soup in this recipe.  And canned chicken broth and canned salmon.  Trust me, this works.  All you need is a "can-do" attitude.  (Okay, that was a dreadful pun.  Mea culpa.)

Simply Soothing Salmon Soup

2 tablespoons butter
1 large onion, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1/2 green bell pepper, chopped
kosher salt, to taste
coarse black pepper, to taste
granulated garlic, to taste

1-14.5 oz. can chicken broth (Swanson)
1 cup frozen vegetables (mix of corn, peas, maybe green beans, but no carrots)
1 can condensed cream of chicken soup (Campbell's)
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup (Campbell's)
1 can condensed tomato soup (Campbell's)
1-14.75 oz. can pink salmon (Bumblebee), drained, skin and bones removed
1/2 soup can half and half
4 tablespoons sherry (not cooking sherry)

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan.  Add the onion, carrot, celery, and green pepper.  Stir and saute over medium-high heat.  Add the salt, pepper, and granulated garlic.  Continue cooking until the edges of the onions begin to brown.  You do want caramelization to take place, and for there to be some browned bits left on the bottom of the pan.  Add the chicken broth; stir and scrape up the bits on the bottom of the pan.  Bring to a boil, and add the frozen vegetables.  Bring back up tp a boil and add the condensed soup, one can at a time.  Stir well after each addition so that soup is smooth and well-blended.  Lower the heat to medium-low and simmer for a few minutes.

Break the salmon up into bite-sized chunks, using your hands.  Add to the soup and stir.  Finally, add the half and half and the sherry.  Take off the heat and stir.  Serve immediately.  Refrigerate any leftovers, and take to the office for lunch the next day.

Sea Cruise - My Favorite Chili

Port Canaveral and the Carnival Dream.  That's one.big.ship. And this is one big ear worm:

Old Man Rhythm is in my shoes
It's no use sittin' and singing the blues
So be my guest, you got nothin' to lose
Won't you let me take you on a
Sea cruise

Ooh wee, ooh wee baby
Ooh wee, ooh wee baby
Ooh wee, ooh wee baby
Won't you let me take you on a
Sea cruise

In my mind, I'd already planned past Thanksgiving, and the Pioneer Woman's Turkey Tetrazzini stands out as one I have to try. Great use of leftovers.  But then my mind skips to chili,  a big pot of the stuff, earthy, beany, meaty.  My original, best of the best recipe.  And maybe curry goat.  Have to think a little more about that last one.

My reason for the preplanning in the middle of the biggest food production of the year has to do with the wonderful fact that Rob and I are going on an 8-day cruise, shortly after Thanksgiving, and Cory will be holding down the fort, taking care of home, hearth, and hounds.  A man's gotta eat, and although he will always be my little boy, Cory is a man.

While it is true that he can cook, man cannot live on gussied-up ramen noodles, shrimp quesadillas, and corn casserole alone.  Besides, it is truly my pleasure to cook and fill up the refrigerator with a variety of dishes to keep him eating while we are gone.  He needs to keep up his strength, because taking care of our ferocious dogs is no easy job.

Eight days on a cruise ship is a new experience for us.  We were on a 7-day, once, and I think a 6-day, but the vast majority of our cruises have been 4 or 5 days.  So we are embarking on a brand new adventure on a brand new ship.  Since almost all of our cruises have been on the Carnival Ecstasy and her twin, the Carnival Sensation, this is going to be a big change.  Much bigger ship, many more amenities.   

"Three football fields long, Carnival Sunshine offers plenty of space for everyone. Passengers onboard this Fun Ship enjoy two-level dining halls, a two-tiered dance club, a three-story show lounge, and four pools (including one just for kids)--plus a pretty wild waterslide. And, the ship's nine-story glass-domed atrium provides a unique place to meet friends or enjoy a quick drink while listening to live music."  Be still my heart!

That doesn't mean I don't love the Ecstasy.  We were on that ship so many times, the maitre d' knew us by name.  For years, that was our "home" ship, sailing out of practically-next-door Port Canaveral. When she was re-homed to Miami, I was beyond saddened.  We even had our own stateroom on that ship, and our own outdoor table on the Lido deck, where we sat for hours after breakfast, reading, knitting, and imbibing alcoholic beverages.  For us, the Carnival Ecstasy was small and intimate and wonderfully familiar, which also made a 5-day cruise incredibly relaxing.  We generally stayed on the ship - how many times can you take a tour bus around Nassau or Freeport? - and I would look forward to a deep tissue massage and a Cosmopolitan or two.

Speaking of Cosmopolitans and the woman who introduced them to me, I know I mentioned a little while back that the idea for our first cruise was initiated by my friend Bethe.  This was  Thanksgiving 2001, and back in the day when staying home for the holiday was not a comfortable option.  It was also just two months after the World Trade bombings, and no one was stepping voluntarily onto a commercial flight airplane.  The cruise was perfect, and we were hooked.

Bethe was one of those friends I found, after a 30 year hiatus, on the Internet.  This was pre Facebook days, but I was still able to track her down following a link to the Far Rockaway High School alumni website.  We reconnected seamlessly, as though no time had lapsed since our first meeting as candy stripers assigned to the women's ward on the second floor at St. Joseph's Hospital, back in 1968.  Our husbands were suitably impressed.

So we had enormous fun on that cruise, and on another cruise the following Thanksgiving, aboard the Norwegian Majesty.  After that, she introduced us to the marvels of European travel, which meant we had to get passports for the very first time. When Rob and I renewed our passports this month, I wanted to call her up to tell her, but of course, I couldn't.  I miss her all the time since that terrible day in February 2013, but I am grateful for those additional years we did have together.

When we first started traveling together, Cory was 13 and Phillip, her youngest at home, was around 11 years old.  We would bunk the boys together, while we grown ups enjoyed our own staterooms.  Even before we lost Bethe, (such an odd phrase, by the way. "Losing" her always makes me feel like I forgot her when I stepped off of a Venetian vaporetto in 2004, and she's been shuttling around ever since) the boys were way past that whole room sharing thing.  Mom and Dad have been officially on their own ever since. (Wait, did I really just say I left my oldest friend on a water bus in Venice, Italy? That reminds me of a silly song and a lovely photo.)

Lovely photo - oh, how I miss them both!

The song's lyrics tell of Charlie, a man who boards a Boston MTA subway car, but then cannot get off because he does not have enough money for new "exit fares". These additional charges (ironically, like the extra token that used to be required to exit at Beach 25th Street in Far Rockaway, Bethe's home station) had been established to collect an increased fare without replacing existing fare collection equipment.  Of course, if given a choice to get stuck on a Venetian vaporetto, or the 8th Avenue "A" train, I would overcome my distaste of flying and grab a flight to Italy.

Although I can see how someone might get confused ...

The sign similarity is  downright eerie ...

Although the mode of transportation makes it crystal clear as to what side of the pond we're on.

Oh, did he ever return?

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearned (poor old Charlie!)

He may ride forever

'neath the streets of Boston

He's the man who never returned.

My Favorite Chili Recipe

4 large onions, coarsely chopped

3 cloves garlic, crushed

¼ cup olive oil

1 teaspoon dried oregano

2 bay leaves, crumbled

2 pounds ground sirloin

½ cup chili powder

1- 28 ounce can tomatoes, undrained

3- 20 ounce cans light red kidney beans, undrained

2 teaspoons salt

3 tablespoons cider vinegar

1/8 teaspoon crushed hot chili peppers

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Sauté onions and garlic in the oil in a large heavy kettle over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes until golden.  Add oregano, bay leaves, and the ground sirloin and sauté, breaking up meat, 10 minutes until beef is no longer pink.  You shouldn’t have excess fat to drain off if you used the sirloin or another lean ground beef.  Add ¼ cup of the chili powder, the tomatoes, two cans of the kidney beans, and simmer, uncovered, over low heat, stirring occasionally, 1 ½ hours.  Add the remaining chili powder and kidney beans along with the salt, vinegar, red peppers and black pepper.  Simmer, stirring, 15 minutes longer.  Taste to adjust the seasoning.  This is one of those dishes that tastes best the next day.  Serve with macaroni and cheese.

Cranberry Fields Forever - Cranberry Kumquat Relish and Easy Cranberry Sauce from the Pioneer Woman

Let me take you down
Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me

Let me take you down
Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Warning:  I was having a slight Mel Brooks moment when I wrote this.

I grew up thinking gravy was a goyishe (non Jewish) food.  The only reason I can think of is that we never ate gravy at home.  Not on our turkey, not on our roast beef.  Oh, there was usually some natural gravy, that is to say, the delicious cooking juices, but they were never thickened with a slurry, or a roux, or some beurre manie.  That was something that only non Jewish people did.   Of course that makes no sense, but I've been known to jump to conclusions on a lot less evidence than that.

As a result, I was well into adulthood before I even tried to make a pan gravy, and you know what?  I couldn't do it.  When I cooked a roast, I got so little in the way of pan drippings, there was nothing to work with.  Same thing with turkey.  I never buy kosher meat or poultry, but maybe the turkeys themselves were Jewish.

I suffered from gravy-envy, I can tell you that.  How come my friend Kathy could roast some beef and get a whole panful of gorgeous drippings?  Too often I had to swallow my jealousy as I stood nearby in her kitchen, watching her stir flour or cornstarch into cold water, and then pour that into bubbling pan drippings so that magic could happen EACH AND EVERY TIME.  Magical gravy.  Delicious, no-lump, full-of-rich-flavor gravy.  Gravy served in a pretty dish, with graceful lines and a special little ladle.  Goyishe gravy.  Oh yes, I knew I was right about that because it so happens that Kathy is not Jewish, and therefore, not genetically precluded from making gravy!  Obviously, pan gravy is in her blood.

About ten years ago, I discovered that Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, makes gravy ahead of time, not bothering to rely on pan drippings.  I've made her gravy for turkey several times, and it really is delicious, but that got me to wondering if Ina Rosenberg Garten, born in Brooklyn, New York, was actually hiding the fact that she was as pan gravy challenged as I was!  Was it really her concern for the cook's convenience, or rather our shared genetic predisposition that caused her to come up with a gravy recipe that could be prepared ahead of time and without reliance on any pan drippings?

Does it matter?  Of course not.  Well, maybe a little.  I mean, what if you serve mashed potatoes with your turkey?  How can you ignore gravy under those circumstances?

Cranberry sauce, though, now that always matters.  You can eat it on the side or on the turkey or on your mashed potatoes.  From a can or from a pan, cranberry sauce must appear on the Thanksgiving table.  Cranberry sauce crosses all ethnic and religious barriers.  Cranberry sauce is an American as apple pie.  Open a can of Ocean Spray's best, plunk it on the table and everybody's happy.  Make it from scratch, and you are likely to get an invitation to compete on "Chopped" or "Cutthroat Kitchen".

For years, I prepared a cranberry kumquat relish to serve with the rest of the Thanksgiving fixings.  I used to get a cheap thrill being able to walk outside to my backyard on Oconee Lane, to pick a big handful of ripe, juicy kumquats for this recipe.  Sadly, I had no luck with citrus trees at our new home in Flora Vista, and while you can find fresh kumquats, for a very short season, in the produce section at Publix, they were never as bright and sweet as the homegrown variety.  Still made a fairly decent relish, however, and I would recommend you try this at least once before resigning yourself to the canned stuff (which I love, by the way.  No such thing as a bad cranberry in my world).

CRANBERRY KUMQUAT RELISH

One 12-ounce bag fresh cranberries
10-12 fresh kumquats (try to find the longer, rather than the rounder variety)
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup chopped walnuts

Kumquats are eaten whole, so don't worry about trying to peel or seed them.  Cut them in half crosswise.  Put into a food processor fitted with the chopping blade, and chop with an on-off turn.  Add the cranberries and sugar.  Process the fruit mixture until finely chopped, using on-off turn.  Do not overprocess.  Transfer the relish to a medium bowl, and stir in the chopped walnuts.  Let stand at room temperature for at least an hour.  This can be prepared several days ahead, just cover and refrigerate.

You can substitute pecans for the walnuts or just leave them out altogether.  The goodness is in the combination of cranberry and kumquat.  Who needs gravy when you've got this relish?  Huh?

If you are not a fan of raw cranberry relish, or the kumquats are out of season, try this cooked cranberry sauce recipe from Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman.  This is cranberry sauce I made for yesterday's dinner, and trust me, it's a keeper.

EASY CRANBERRY SAUCE FROM THE PIONEER WOMAN

One 12-ounce bag fresh cranberries
2 large oranges
1 cup pure maple syrup (I used Grade B for it's deeper flavor, but you can certainly use Grade A)

Rinse the cranberries under cold water. Zest the oranges. Add the cranberries and zest to a medium saucepan. Squeeze the juice from both oranges into the saucepan. Add the maple syrup and stir it all together. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until it’s nice and thick. If the sauce still seems a little thin, just simmer longer until it’s the right consistency.

Transfer the sauce to a dish, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Can be made up to 2 days in advance.