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Sneaky Pilaf

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Here’s my wish for you:

I hope that after more than thirty years together, you and your SO (significant other) are still capable of surprising the heck out of each other.

By now, Petey and I know each other pretty well.

He knows I consider frosting a necessary food group.  That Roger Moore was the best Bond.  And to never bring up how many shoes I own.

I’ve come to accept that when he is holding the remote, we will never watch a program all the way through from start to finish.  And it’s futile to try and get him out of what The Kid calls the Canadian tuxedo; jeans and a jean jacket, with a t-shirt in the summer, or a flannel shirt in the colder months.

But lately, when it comes to food, he has shocked me to the core.

A couple of years ago, I found out that coconut cake is one of his favorite desserts.  Then after making many, many batches of my green pork chili, he confessed that he’s not a fan (at the time of this revelation I had a gallon bagged up in the freezer, which The Kid generously offered to take off my hands).

In a quest to eat healthier, I bought a ten pound bag of brown rice at Costco; with Petey’s full knowledge and cooperation.

But a month or so ago, he sheepishly informed me that he doesn’t really like it.

I told him that we would have to eat it up, but I would alternate brown rice dinners with the white stuff.  I may have told him that, but I hate serving him food that he doesn’t enjoy, so it wasn’t really being used.

He does love pilafs.  When we go out to eat, if there is pilaf on the menu, he orders it, even over things like creamy mashed, or loaded baked potatoes.

The other night I decided to make a pilaf.  One thing I love about them is that they’re a great opportunity to use up any vegetables in the fridge that are past their prime.

I always use stock in my pilaf, so the cooked rice isn’t snow white.  So I would use this stock camouflage to substitute brown rice in my recipe, hoping that the flavor, and chewy characteristics of the wild rice I planned on adding would disguise my deceit.

It worked.  Petey had no idea he was eating brown rice.  And when I told him, he liked it so much, he didn’t even slow down the chowing down.

Brown and wild rice pilaf

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

1 onion, chopped

2 cups mushrooms, sliced

1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms

1 cup celery, chopped

3 large carrots, chopped

1 teaspoon each dried thyme

2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary

3-4 cloves garlic, minced

1 1/3 cups brown rice

2/3 cup wild rice

1/2 cup white wine

1 teaspoon porcini powder (available at Lowes Foods)

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

3 3/4 cups chicken or mushroom stock or some combination of both

Kosher salt

Freshly cracked pepper

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375. Put 2 cups salted water in a saucepan and bring to boil.  Drop in clean dried mushrooms, and let boil for 3 minutes.  Drain, using cheesecloth or paper towels to catch any dirt and reserve stock for pilaf.  Slice mushrooms into bite-sized pieces.

In a heavy Dutch oven over medium heat, melt the butter with the oil. Sauté fresh and dried mushrooms, carrots, celery, onions and herbs, until lightly browned; about 8-10 minutes. Add both rices and garlic, then stir until the grains are toasted and well coated, about 3 minutes.

Deglaze with wine.  When’s it’s absorbed, stir in the stock, add porcini powder and Worcestershire. Taste liquid for seasoning, and adjust if needed.  Bring to a simmer, stir and cover.

Transfer the pot to oven and bake until all the liquid has been absorbed and the rice is tender, 65-75 minutes.

Remove from the oven. Serves 8 to 10.

     The recent spousal revelations have, at times, sent me reeling.  I’m afraid that one of these days I’ll find out I’m married to an opera lover who hates scrambled eggs, and loves cats.

Thanks for your time.

A very special episode

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Petey's plate

The finished dish.

Originally published in the Herald Sun 10/19/2011

October 11, 1:15PM-Okay, here’s the deal. You guys are on a real-time journey with me. Right now, in my oven, is the object and subject of this column. Last night I took a package of meat from the freezer that I wasn’t sure I would ever use. Hog jowls.
Ever heard of guanciale (gwon-choll-ay), a trendy Italian ingrediant? That’s hog jowls. Seen pork cheeks on Iron Chef? Hog Jowls.
It’s a traditional country food. The muscle is tough and fatty, with lots of collagen. Cooked correctly, it’s supposed to be a rich, unctuous meat, like ox tales, brisket, or NC Barbecue.
But yes, it does come from the face of the pig.
The meat I had looked like really thick, meaty slices of bacon, with a strip of skin on one side. They were smoked for flavor, but not cooked at all.
I decided I would slow cook them into carnitas (slow cooked spiced, shreddy pork) from the Mexican flavors I had in my pantry. That’s the other part of the challenge. I will be making this dish with only items that are already in my house.
First I browned the meat in Old Blue. I seasoned the slices, trimmed off the skin and threw the scraps back. When the slices were crusty and brown, I pulled them and put sliced onions and halved garlic cloves into the fat. From there I made a very mock mole sauce for a braise
I put them in the oven covered at 275 degrees. That’s where they are right now.
More to come.
2:00PM-I just checked it. It’s been in about an hour and feels very tender. It went back in for thirty more minutes.
Experimenting here, folks.
More soon.
2:45PM– I took the meat from the braise. It was falling apart tender. I chopped it up, crisped it in the same pot, and then put in the cooked rice, chicken stock, some chopped green olives, and the cheese. When the mixture had cooled and firmed up a little, I folded in three stiffly beaten egg whites to lighten the filling.
5:00PM-I put together the burritos and set them in the fridge to chill, so they hold their shape better while cooking.
6:15 PM-I will wrap this up after we eat. But I have an update. Petey picked up some salad greens for dinner. It will be a nice fresh compliment to the substantial and hearty puerco pocket.
I’ll let y’all know how it all turned out soon.
7:30PM-I succumbed to temptation and fried them chimi-style, drizzled a little sauce on them sprinkled a little grated colby-jack, and put them under a low broiler. I will photograph the results-good or bad.
8:45PM-Dinner’s over. Two words-O.M.G.
Thanks for your time.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Fresh out of the oven from the cheese melting portion of the program.

My Pantry Very, Very Mock Mole for Hog Jowls
Your pantry and mole may differ greatly
3/4 cup La Victoria mild Green salsa (mole traditionally has tons of chiles, this sauce replaced fresh and/or dried chiles)
1 tablespoons Bitter Orange Adobo
2 packets Safron Sazon
2 teaspoons cumin
1 teaspoon kosher salt 
1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
juice and zest of two limes
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
2 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
1/4 teaspoon Chinese five spice
2 teaspoons fennel seed
1 tablespoon golden syrup
1 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 cup small pimento stuffed olives
1 tablespoon olive brine
1 1/2 teaspoons smoked paprika
tiny pinch of both cayenne and red pepper flakes
1 cup sherry
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
small yellow onion rough slice
5 cloves garlic, peeled and cut in half
After browning meat, remove and add onion and garlic. When the onion starts to soften, add all the ingredients up to the sherry. Lower heat and stir. When the mixture gets tight and caramelized, pour in sherry and scrape all the stuff stuck to the bottom. When the sherry has almost completely reduced, add chicken stock. Return meat to pot, cover and bake low and slow.

Eat like a hummingbird

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I’ll bet you think this is going to be about dieting, don’t you?

Nope, this is pretty much the opposite.  I’m going to talk about Thanksgiving desserts.  We’ll return to the hummingbird presently.

Last month the Sylvan seniors at Mt Sylvan Methodist Church (5731 N. Roxboro Road) asked me to speak to the group.  I said yes, but was terrified.I’m a talker, not a speaker.  The last time I gave a speech was in junior high, when I ran for 7th grade class president.

I lost.

My talk went well.  I didn’t freeze, or faint, or puke.  And afterward they gave me dessert.  There were many homemade treats, so I enjoyed a sampler plate.  My favorite was a pumpkin bar.  Which is crazy, because I don’t normally like pumpkin. It had great flavor, a delicious gingerbread crust, and a very thin, very crispy top, kind of like a brownie.It was made by Bess Hunnings Smith, the pastor emeritus at Sylvan.  When I requested the recipe, Bess started laughing.  She told me it came from a box.  It was Krusteaz Pumpkin Pie Bar Mix.  It’s available in local stores.

So if you or any of your Thanksgiving guests usually dislike pumpkin, or you desire at least one easy dish for the day, give it a try.When I was a kid, there was a neon-green goo that came in a mini-trash can.  This ‘toy’ really didn’t do anything except gross out adults.  It was called ”Slime”.

When we lived in Puerto Rico, my mom got a fruity gelatin recipe that also was a rather unfortunate shade of green.  My brother christened it Slime.   Even though it isn’t the most appetizing looking dish, it’s really yummy, and everybody in the family loves it.

Ross Family Slimeslime 21 large package lime jello, prepared according to directions, but not set

1-14.5 ounce can of pears, drained

8 ounces cream cheese, softened

1 envelope Dream Whip (not Cool Whip), prepared according to directions

Put warm-ish prepared jello, cream cheese, and pears into blender or food processor and blend until smooth.  Gently fold in Dream Whip.  Pour into 9×13 dish or ring mold and refrigerate until completely set.  Serves 12-16.And now we’ve circled back around to the hummingbird (cake).

You’ve got two simple desserts so far.  This next one is a show stopper that is also simple, but deceptively so.

*Note-no hummingbirds are harmed in the making of this cake.  Rather, it’s full of things that might attract a hummingbird.

Double-glazed hummingbird cakehummingbird cakeCake:

3 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 8-ounce can crushed pineapple with juice

1 cup canola oil

3 large eggs, beaten

 2 bananas roughly chopped, not mashed

½ cup toasted pecan pieces

2 teaspoons vanilla

Glazes:

hummingbird glaze

2 tablespoon melted butter

1 tablespoon rum

1 can cream of coconut (make sure you get coconut cream, and not piña colada mix)

2 ½ cups sifted powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 325.  Generously grease 10 cup Bundt or tube pan.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, and salt.Remove 2 tablespoons juice from pineapple.  Set aside for glazes.

Add pineapple, oil, eggs, banana, nuts, and vanilla.  Stir by hand until just blended—don’t beat.

Pour batter into Bundt.  Bake for about 1 hour and 10 minutes, or until toothpick inserted comes out clean, but moist.  Place cake, still in pan, onto cooling rack set on a cookie sheet for 15 minutes.Mix glaze #1: Whisk 1 cup of powdered sugar with 1 tablespoon pineapple juice, rum, and enough butter to make glaze that can be drizzled.

Invert still hot cake onto rack, and remove cake from pan.  Drizzle with glaze #1.Let cake finish cooling completely.

Glaze #2: Into powdered sugar whisk 1 tablespoon pineapple juice and enough coconut cream to make glaze.  Spoon over cooled cake.  Allow glaze to set before serving.Serves 16.

Any (or all) of these desserts would be great for turkey day.   They’re quick, and can be prepared well in advance.

And to retain some sanity during the holidays, it’s wise take any opportunity to cut yourself some slack.Thanks for your time.

Ode To An Onyx Lodge

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Originally published in the Herald Sun 3/7/2012

I just wiped oil off one of my best friends. I toasted coconut, and we got a little sticky.
The name of my anointed friend? It’s characteristically simple and straightforward, just; “Cast Iron”. It’s big, handled, and has the heft to be a lethal weapon. It’s my Lodge skillet.
On the 1999 premiere of “Good Eats”, Alton Brown perfectly cooked steak in his cast iron. He extolled their many virtues. I decided to procure one.
I grew up ignorant of them. I remember, as a child, briefly seeing one at a friend’s house, in a sink full of cold, dirty, water. It haunts me, like someone who years ago witnessed a murder, and only now realizes the true horror of what they saw. Those things are indestructible, but they can be criminally disrespected.
Non-users may feel there’s a lot of work involved in the care and feeding. True, it’s easy to toss a pan in the dishwasher for five or ten years, and then get a new one. But do you know how I usually clean Cast Iron? I wipe it out with a paper towel. That’s the whole deal. And that is but one facet of the beauty that is my forged-by-fire friend.
Curiously, there is only one factory in the whole country that makes cast iron cookware. Lodge Ironworks, in the Appalachian mountains, has been around since 1896. And they still do it the same way.
I once bought a piece that was not Lodge; therfore, not made to US safety standards. When heated, it replaced the house’s oxygen with greasy fumes that smelled of outsourcing and death.
Don’t mess around. For something that can honestly outlast you (and not by murdering you), pay the extra few dollars.
I got mine off the dusty shelf of a sleepy hardware store, unseasoned. Let me repeat that: un…seasoned.
Ask anybody to describe granny’s skillet, and they’ll speak of something the color of the burnished, unfathomable black of (insert name of hated politician or celebrity here)’s heart.
Brand new, and unseasoned, they are closer to the depressing, gunmetal gray of Mitt Romney’s bachelor weekend in Altoona. Also when new, they’re whatever the complete opposite of non-stick is.
To get it as black as a licorice whip and slick as a cruise ship Lothario, the surface must be seasoned. Over time, the heated metal and fat forms a bond, that as it darkens, will become naturally non-stick.
*Microscopic gaps in the smooth, bonded, surface of cookware will shrink when hot (it all has gaps, even well seasoned, long-time possesions). So preheat before using, every time.
If it’s scrubbed after every use, or chunked into the Maytag, that marriage will wash away.
So how to clean?
The key is to, carefully, wipe it when it’s still a little hot. That’s when you deal with any gunk. When the surface is smooth and dry, you’re done. If that doesn’t work, pour some kosher salt in and gently rub. It’s easier with fat, so if needed, splash a little cooking oil into the warm pan. This method can also be used to reclaim neglected pans with an entirely rusted-over surface (like Aunt Eugenia’s set in the attic, maybe?).
What if it’s really messed up, and the salt ain’t gonna cut it?
This next tactic works, but can be dangerous, so at least wear some gloves, and think about maybe renting a haz-mat suit.
Take the pan, as hot as you trust yourself, and pour in some warm water; you’re deglazing the stuck. If the pan is molten, and the water icy, you’ll crack the metal–irreversibly fatal. So, ginger.
Sometimes it’s gloppy and dirty (like for my Skillet Taters). It’s then time for hot, soapy water. It will lubricate and cleanse. If all else fails, use a very soft scrubby sponge (I really dig the hourglass O-Cel-O). Go slowly and lightly, and stop as soon as you feel surface. Give it the same bomb-squad reverence you would a non-stick piece of All-Clad from Williams-Sonoma.

Skillet Taters
If you make these, your skillet will see some warm, soapy water later. Just be gentle.

3 cups unpeeled cubed into 3/4 inch approx. You want them similar size and shape. If you have fingerlings, slice into 1/2 coins. Baby potatoes, quarter or halve, just make sure there is cut are on each potato.
1/2 white onion, chopped
1 tbls each butter and oil (You can substitue bacon drippings, and sprinkle the finished dish with crumbled bacon, but I am not coming with you on your next doctor’s appt)
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp dried thyme
pinch sugar
1/2 tsp favorite seasoning blend (I like Goya Adobo with bitter orange)bacon
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 tbls chopped fresh flat leaf parsey
squeeze of citrus, if you’re out, substitute splash of you favorite vinegar
pinch cayenne

In a pot of heavily salted water (it should taste like the ocean any time you boil anything), cook potatoes until just barely tender, a paring knife goes in, but with a little resistance.
Drain, and allow them to dry on the outside. This cuts down on popping and spitting later.
Get your skillet hot. Not quite smoking, because of the fats involved, but really hot.
Tumble in spuds and toss in the pan to coat with fat. Season potatoes with everything, except for onion, parsley, and juice.
When the taters are evenly coated arrange them in one layer. Then take your spatula and give them all little smoosh. Not quite a smash, something gentler. You want be able to recognize a slightly battered cube after smooshing it. Then leave them alone.
Reduce heat to medium, cook until the crustiness that has appeared is browned to your liking. Add chopped onions, toss everything around a bit and then put them in a single layer and smoosh. Don’t get too wrapped up in making sure each potato is perfectly golden, you want some amber colored crust, some blond crispiness, and even some black peeking out here and there. They are home fries, not NASA fries.
Cook until they and nice and crispy, maybe another 6-7 minutes. Stir in parsley.
Just before serving, spritz with citrus, and check for salt.
I like mine topped with a poached egg. Petey likes his with scrambled, and a steak.

If you’re forced to wash it, dry it immediately. Oxidation can happen quickly. Store it like a freshly showered body builder–very lightly oiled. It’s not just sexy, it provides a barrier against moisture.
After especially vigorous cleaning, give your faithful companion a spa treatment. Pour in about a quarter cup of cooking oil, wipe it all around, and let it meditate in a 250-300 degree oven for about an hour. Wipe out the excess while warm, and when it’s cool, put it away, so the saucepans can tell it how rested it looks.
One of the most classic things made in it, and an honest test of your cast iron stewardship, is corn bread.
My favorite is Mildred “Mama Dip” Council’s, “Sunday Cornbread”. It’s moist like it should be, and crispy where it oughta.
Clean-up after baking cornbread?
My seasoned, loyal comrade now wipes completely clean with one dry Viva. The first time it happened, I almost wept. The memory still touches me deeply.
Thanks for your time.

Days Of Tickle Pink Wine and Rose’s Lunch Counter

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Originally Published in the Herald Sun 5/14/2012

I’m pretty much cross-eyed from evaluating thousands of pairs of shoes online.
One of my oldest and closest friends (we were actually in the Brownies together), Rhiannon, told me our high school class is having a reunion in September.
What?
It is not too early to window shop webtastic windows. September will be here before we know it. In the past I’ve used getting jury duty and a trip to the dentist as an excuse to look for new shoes.
I have the perfect dress (J Crew, dark heather gray jersey wrap dress, timeless and simple), but I need absolutely fabulicious kicks, and bag, and wrap, and…
In 1982, I graduated from Northeastern High School, in Elizabeth City. In the only public high school in the county, I was ranked 17 out of a senior class of 362 (It’s sad I need for you to know that, isn’t it?).
Fourteen months later, I married Petey.
Although, as a child, I’d taken cooking lessons a few times (including classes at the VEPCO building on Ehringhaus St, in E City), I was no cook. I was a restaurant-frequenter, and a heater-upper.
Luckily for my new groom, this was when all the microwave meals started coming onto the market. Otherwise it would have been peanut butter and jelly on Wonder bread, or ptomaine under an oxygen tent.
We supped at Copeland’s Grill four or five days a week (Tragically the Hughes Blvd diner is now closed). For $1.49, we ate a meat, two sides, bread, drink, and a dessert. I always ordered popcorn shrimp and double potato salad. They also had a stripped down version; meat and two sides for 99 cents.
Truthfully, I think Copeland’s contributed to the survival of our marriage (and us) those first years.
I took a few recipes and the Betty Crocker cookbook along with me to our honeymoon cottage. My mom gave me her famous pork chops and mushroom gravy recipe (apple sauce offered, but optional).
She’d made it since her own wedding. It was one dish from a repertoire of only two or three held by the new bride almost fifty years ago.
The first night she made them for her strapping six foot, two inch new husband, she made two. He ate both. She wanted him to get enough to eat, so the next time she made three. He ate them. Every pork chop dinner, one more chop; every night, he finished them all.
Finally, on the night he had finished seven servings, all was revealed.
Mom was sick with the financial worry of satisfying her new spouse’s bottomless pit. My poor dad? Just sick.
In O’Henrian fashion, Mom wanted Dad to get enough to eat. My sweet father didn’t want to hurt his bride’s feelings by not eating all she had prepared for him.
I’ve made this porker dish since the very beginning of my marriage. The recipe and flavor, like my cooking abilities, have become deeper, and more complex over the years. But one thing hasn’t changed in almost thirty years, the boring couple that ate it in a 12X60 trailer, still do, only now in a 1600 square foot Victorian in Durham, NC.
Before I give up the recipe, I want to talk about one ingredient: the onion marmalade.
Every couple of months, I buy five or six pounds of regular yellow onions. I then take a full day to cook them down into about two cups of deep, amber-colored caramelized onions.
If you can’t, or won’t, do this, you still need slowly, deeply browned onions.

Debbie Covers Mom’s Smothered Pork Chops

4-6 3/4-1 inch thick pork chops (whatever cut you like), approx 2 lbs.
seasoned flour
1/4 cup onion marmalade *
2 lbs cremini mushrooms, cleaned, stems removed and sliced into 1/8 inch slices
3-4 cloves garlic chopped finely
1 cup marsala wine, apple brandy, or beer
1 tablespoon tomato paste
3 cups chicken stock
2 cups beef stock
1/2 cup whole milk, half & half, or cream
2 tablespoons low or no-fat milk
2 tablespoons dijon mustard
1 tablespoon apple jelly or honey
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon fennel seed, crushed in mortar and pestle
(they can be a bit tough to find in the store, but add a really complex, resonant flavor like
nothing else)
1 teaspoon dried thyme
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh rosemary, dried; use 1/4 teaspoon
1 large or 2 small bay leaves
Salt and pepper to taste
Roux:
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup flour
Cook together slowly in a small skillet until the color of peanut butter.

Pre-heat oven to 325. Shake chops in a bag of seasoned flour, shake off excess, and brown in a large, heavy, Dutch oven (they only need browning, they’ll finish in the oven).
Remove to a holding plate.
In same pot, cook mushrooms, with salt, pepper, and thyme.
Cook until all the moisture is cooked out, and you can see a good amount of browning. Add garlic, and cook just ’till it barely starts to color. Put in onions, then deglaze pot with booze. Add the tomato paste while you can still smell the alcohol, the tomato has flavors that are only released when exposed to spirits. Let it reduce until it’s very thick.
Stir in remaining ingredients, except for roux. When it comes to a boil, slowly whisk in roux, until smooth, and gravy thickens. Check for seasoning, and balance of flavor.
Put chops back in, cover, and bake in oven for 1 1/2 hours.
Let pot sit on counter for ten minutes before opening.
To serve dish:
Remove pork to serving platter (carefully; they are literally falling apart tender). Whisk sauce in pot to smooth out, remembering to scrape all the goodness off the bottom.
Serve with buttered rice, and salad or spring veg.

*Faux Onion Marmalade: 2 yellow onions, peeled, cut in half, and sliced into 1/4 inch half moons. Cook onions on low with 1/2 tablespoon olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme, a splash of balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. If you have an electric skillet, use that, otherwise, use a heavy bottomed frying pan.
Done well (read:slowly), this will take up to an hour. But you can do it days ahead.

It will definitely shock some old friends from NHS that I have a food column that’s not about dining out.
Sonic was and is a favorite for grab and go grub. In fact, when we were dating, Petey wooed me with their pink lemonade.
They don’t have it on the menu anymore. Also absent, a guilty pleasure; “Frito chili pie”. Luckily, I know the difficult, top-secret, recipe.

Frito Chili Pie
1 cup Fritos
1/2 cup canned chili (Petey likes Wolf Brand), heated
handful shredded hoop cheese
Top Fritos with chili and cheese, and put under broiler, until gooey, melty, and lightly browned. You can also tear open the front a snack size bag of Fritos, and pour in the hot chili and cheese, and put the whole thing under the broiler, for more of a cave man experience.

There are countless amazing cooks in the Harbor of Hospitalty. Rhiannon’s amazing, beautiful, talented grandmother, Georgie, was one of them. I can’t tell you how much wonderful food I put away in her kitchen, while wearing my nightgown.
The Kid met Miss Georgie, and Rhi’s strong, stubborn, secretly sweet, grandfather, Mr. Harland, as a toddler. It was eternal love at first sight for all three.
Miss Georgie’s friendship was one more link that led to culinary school.
While living in E City, I was too immature and uninterested to ask for cooking lessons, from her, or anyone else. I can never get that chance back.
Please, let me be your “Don’t Bee”:
If somebody cooks you something amazing, or is generally a wizard in the kitchen, ask for lessons!
Today.
One of these days, I’ll spill about my first attempt at a dinner party, in 1983, in my little skirtless home, in Steven’s Mobile Home Park, a lonely drive of twenty three miles from the bright lights of Elizabeth City.
Go Eagles!
Thanks for your time.

The Kid in headlights

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Recently, I’ve learned something.

I’ve realized why my mom is so eager to have Petey and me visit, and why she doesn’t like it when we show up late, or leave early.

There’s no accounting for her taste, but I think she misses us.

This epiphany smacked me upside the head after The Kid moved out.

I went from being pregnant with my child living inside me, to a baby then toddler that was always with me. Later were schooldays, each one complete with crazy mornings followed by evenings with the whole family. Then it was college, with every break spent at home. The last step was adulthood, and The Kid’s own castle which has relegated us to a couple of phone calls a week and two or three quick (quick to me, anyway) visits a month.

Petey and I are seriously missing this human we’ve created.

It’s like trying to lure a fawn to eat out of your hand. I try to be subtle and not make any sudden movements. Or pester with too many phone calls and emails. I don’t want to scare Bambi off, and clumsily miss a visit or cut one short by being too “Mom.”

So, when we are lucky enough to have The Kid join us for a meal, I try to make sure everything on the menu is either a childhood favorite or something new that will really be enjoyed.

Whenever we eat at Mom’s and something doesn’t turn out perfectly, she gets upset. I have to admit that I’d get a little impatient because it was just a burned roll, or a veg that finished late — no big deal.

But now I understand. A few weeks ago The Kid came for Sunday lunch, and I made a family fave; porcupine meatballs (or as we call them, road kill). I was crushed when they didn’t quite cook all the way through, and the rice was a little crunchy in spots. We were so eager to have our offspring over, and I had screwed it up.

My rational side (and spouse) tells me The Kid probably never gave it a second thought.

Last weekend we had our precious guest for dinner. We had bacon wrapped tri-tip, salad, Whole Food’s really delicious yeast rolls, peas, and a tasty new potato dish.

Horseradish Baked Mashed Potatoes

3 pounds waxy potatoes

1 medium-large russet potato

1 Bay leaf

4 sprigs rosemary

1 1/4 teaspoons dry thyme, divided

1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika

Kosher salt

12 peppercorns + freshly cracked

5 tablespoons butter

½-1 cup buttermilk (approximately)

1/3 cup provolone, shredded

2 tablespoons horseradish

1/2 cup shredded horseradish jack (I use Taste of Inspirations brand available at Food Lion) tossed with 1/4 teaspoon of the thyme and paprika, then set aside.

Peel and cut up potatoes to similar size. Place in a large pot. Cover with cold water by about 2 inches. Add 3 tablespoons salt, bay leaf, 4 sprigs fresh rosemary. In an infuser or cheesecloth, place 1 teaspoon dry thyme and 12-15 peppercorns. Add to water. Boil until knife easily pierces potatoes. Drain, removing any herbs from spuds.

Put potatoes back into pot, along with salt and pepper to taste, and cold butter cut into pieces.

Mash with potato masher until mostly smooth, with a slight chunkiness.

Stir in provolone, horseradish, and about 1/2 cup buttermilk.

Check for seasoning. Stir in only enough buttermilk as needed, you want it stiffer than normal (like biscuit dough). It loosens while baking, and you don’t want it runny when serving. Spoon into greased casserole dish.

Bake covered for 20 minutes at 350.

Uncover, sprinkle on horseradish cheddar, and bake for 30 more minutes. Then put under broiler, and watch until the cheese is browned and crusty. Remove from oven, and let rest for 10 minutes.

Serves 6-8.

So there you have my pathetic tale of woe (and a new way to enjoy spuds).

Your children have the ability to turn you inside out forever. For those living in an empty nest, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

And for parents who are lucky enough to have kids still living at home — just you wait. It’ll come sooner than you think.

Thanks for your time.

Do your homework

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This column was originally published in the Herald-Sun 6/6/2012.

For you, gentle readers, I do quite a bit of research for these essays. I watch way too much food television. I experiment, culinarily. I also read many articles on the interwebs. (Confidentially, I would probably do it even without the motivation of a weekly column.)
Recently, on Huffpost, there was a piece on the dos and don’ts of shopping warehouse clubs.
It caught my eye, because I love me some sweet, sweet, Costco. It holds a dark fascination for me that really isn’t healthy.
My relationship with Costco isn’t an easy one. Many early trips saw me trying to fit all kinds of random things into my car trunk. If anyone out there has any use for the entire filmography of Dana Andrews on Beta Max, please let me know. And I honestly don’t know why I thought my little family could use up 235 D batteries before the next ice age.
But, after much time, and exercising superhuman self-control, occasionally I can get out of there for less than $100. Not often, but occasionally.
The catalytic article supplied a list of foodstuffs that one must or must not buy at a warehouse club.
A few of the do-bees on the list, meat, cooking oil, and nuts, are good ideas, for me. They butcher their meat on-site, and it is usually beautiful. Unless you feed twenty or more diners each night, you will have to break it up into smaller amounts, and freeze it. My own shopping habits have produced quite a bounty for freezer bag industry. I guess that makes me a job creator.
Costco has a cut of meat that they call tri-tip. It’s not the usual triangular shaped piece of beef you might be familiar with. It’s cut into long strips, five or six inches long, and an inch wide. The great thing about this steak is that you can cook it for a long time, like stew meat (it’s great for beef Stroganoff), or you can cook it quickly for a juicy, flavorful, yet oddly shaped steak. The carnivores at my house enjoy a simple, mock fillet mignon that I came up with.

Tri-Strip Mignon

4 Costco tri-tip strips
8 thin slices of bacon
salt and pepper

Cook bacon on a plate wrapped in paper towels in microwave for about 1 1/2 minutes on high until it’s hot and has lost some grease into the paper towel. This will par-cook it, so it will be much easier to crisp in the pan. Wrap a slice evenly around a piece of seasoned meat, from end to end. Truss it up with butcher twine.

Into a dry heavy skillet (cast iron is perfect) heated to medium, medium-high, place the steaks, and cook them until the bacon is browned and crisp, turning them as they cook. By the time the bacon is done, the meat will be cooked medium rare.
When done, remove from pan, and let rest, lightly covered, for 6-8 minutes. Serve whole, or slice into pretty little rounds.

Those buys make sense for me. Some of the other purchasing suggestions, though, were akin to encouraging a canary to buy dental insurance.
Cereal: Each October The Kid and Petey eagerly urge me to purchase boxes and boxes of the seasonally available Boo Berry and Frankenberry cereal (not big Count Chocula fans). That’s pretty much the only cereal they eat.
I just checked. It is now early June, and I have 3/4 of a box of Boo Berry, and an unopened box of Frankenberry. I should chuck them, but it’s funny to see the monsters grinning down at me from the top of the fridge.
Another list must-buy: coffee. Petey can’t abide the stuff (he’s a Mountain Dew man), and I only like coffe in ice cream and ridiculous lattes prepared by someone other than me. Being a college student though, The Kid loves it. We bought a fancy maker from Starbucks that makes a single, large travel mug’s worth. The problem is, not long after purchasing said maker, the mug was lost. The machine will only work with the special receptacle, so Gramma kindly purchased a second (the entire thing, they don’t sell the cups separately). After that one’s vessel went AWOL, the coffee maker became an expensive, shiny paperweight. Coffee is now purchased by my child, prepared and iced, from Bean Traders, in a massive jug that looks like it should contain white lightening. So, buying seventeen pounds of coffee isn’t a wise choice for us.
Some of the don’t-bees are just as wrong (for me).
Fresh produce. We may not like melons enough to eat eight of them before they go slimy and brown, but my family can put away loads of things like asparagus, mushrooms, and fresh cherries. They carry big bags of sugar snap peas that we love, and there’s enough for few dinners in each sack.
Milk was a recommended commodity. I do buy their heavy cream in quarts. Cream lasts a long time, and we always use it up. But a two gallon jug of milk? I could sail to Singapore on the oceans of expired milk I’ve dumped.
Condiments, such as mayonnaise, were no-nos. But I’m Southern girl. Believe me when I say we can, and do, use up a gallon of that magical white stuff on a regular basis. Mustard and ketchup though, not so much.
Every family is different, and the Huffpost list takes for granted that everyone eats and lives exactly like the writer.
Thus, my point. Before you go all consumer-crazy, and fill your warehouse cart with stuff that will be thrown away, unused, do your homework.
Maybe the thought of six gallons of pickles makes you queasy. Then don’t buy them. But if you can’t start the day without a couple of gerkins dunked in your morning beverage, it’s a very smart buy. Just be realistic, and get only what’s right for you.
Thanks for your time.

Creature Feature

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Originally printed in the Herald Sun 10/19/2013
Maybe it’s the dump truck-sized dog, or maybe it’s the two weird looking old people that live here, but in all the years we’ve owned our house we’ve had a cumulative total of about six kids come to our door, trick-or-treating.
For the first five or six Halloweens, I’d optimistically buy bags of candy, decorate the front porch, and make sure the light over the front door was a bright, welcoming beacon.
And about 10pm every year I’d give up hope and turn out the light, just me and my 10 pounds of candy left all alone at the pumpkin altar again.
But this year we have two new young ladies in our neighborhood, Ali and YaYa. I’ve already checked with their mom, and on Halloween the girls will be dressed up and going door to door, including our own neglected portal.
This year though, I’m not buying any candy.
I’m making it. Quel scandale, no? I know, it’s almost unthinkable to give out homemade sweets, but the family knows me and my off kilter ways.
But even if you have costumed hordes at your house, you too can hand out candy that you’ve prepared yourself. When you package the goods, put your name, address, and phone number on each, and list any allergens (peanuts, dairy, gluten etc.). Then introduce yourself to the adult chaperone, and inform them of the nature of your daring distribution.
There might still be folks who are uncomfortable taking homemade stuff, so it would be wise to lay in a small stock of store-bought loot (dollar stores have a big selection of cellophane Halloween bags, party favors, and candy), so nobody has to leave empty-handed.
For our neighborhood ghouls, I’m making creature cookies, butterscotch spiders, and zombie brains.
Creature Cookies
You may know these as Preacher cookies. When very little, The Kid misheard the name, and asked for more “creature cookies”. The name stuck.
1/2 cup (one stick) butter
4 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups white sugar
1/2 cup whole milk
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 cups quick cooking oats
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Mix butter, cocoa, sugar, milk, and salt together in saucepan. Boil for 1 minute.
Stir in oatmeal, peanut butter and vanilla. Drop tablespoons of cookie preparation onto parchment paper. Allow to cool and harden. Makes 3 dozen
When having oatmeal at home, I eat steel-cut oats. But I’ve never seen any cookie recipes using them. A couple of weeks ago I decided that I was a genius, and made creature cookies with steel-cut. Because they’re basically gravel in their raw state, I cooked them before adding to the mixture.
Now I know why there’s a total lack of steel-cut dessert recipes. It was an abject failure; they never set up. My Mensa card was revoked the next day.
Butterscotch Spiders
One 11 ounce bag of butterscotch chips
One 5 ounce can chow mien noodles
½ cup salted nuts (optional)
Melt chips in microwave: Place chips into bowl, and microwave on high for 15 seconds. Remove from microwave, stir and repeat at 15 second intervals until completely melted. If they are almost totally melted, don’t continue to heat (it could burn and seize up). Just keep stirring until smooth.
Gently mix noodles and nuts into melted butterscotch, and place small mounds on parchment paper. Allow to cool and harden.
Makes approximately 2 dozen spiders.
Zombie Brains
One 11 ounce bag white chocolate chips
2 cups golden raisins (sultanas)
Melt white chocolate in microwave as instructed above. Stir in raisins. Drop small mounds onto parchment. Allow to harden.
Makes 3 or 4 dozen brains.
My parents live in a Greensboro subdivision with lots of families that make a big deal of October 31st. Because our Durham neighborhood exhibits a complete lack of Halloween spirit, we’d go to Gramma and Grampa’s for trick or treating. At 3 ½ years old, dressed as a pumpkin (and completely adorable), The Kid went out for the first time.
On the ride home, from the darkened back seat came the voice of our sleepy toddler.
“That was fun. Let’s come back and do it again tomorrow night!”
Thanks for your time.

Tricker treat er…

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Normally my spouse and I enjoy each other’s company, and lead a relatively strife-free existence. But right now, I’m a little bit ticked off at Petey.

I’m a pretty good wife. I don’t nag (too much). I barely complain when he watches football all weekend, and Mondays, and Thursdays. I cook him his favorite foods. I’m a cheap date — take me to Costco, buy me a fro-yo for $1.35, and I am a very happy girl. And when he burps so loud he rattles the windows, I don’t even smack him.

So when I made one very small, very earnest request, you’d think he’d acquiesce.

Nope.

He won’t take me out on Halloween for trick-or-treating. I think that just stinks.

And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about awesome costumes. I’ve come up with some pretty good ones, so if you’re lucky enough to go out, you’re welcome to ’em.

The first one is easy, and I think, pretty darn good. Put on a T-shirt with the word “Life” written on it. Carry a basket full of lemons, and hand them out. Get it? Life handing out lemons?

When I was little, I thought that because of our shared moniker, her raisin cakes were made just for me. But even if you’re an Edith or Otis, Little Debbie is a fun and easy costume. And if folks don’t get it, you can always say you’re Scout from ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’, or Huck Finn’s sister.

One get-up that is very trendy is a pumpkin spice latte. Just be prepared for a horde of hipsters to follow you like you are a can of tuna, and they’re a bunch of cats.

Dress up like a Granny Smith, accessorize with a cigarette and a leather jacket, and you’ll be a bad apple.

Wear a large white trash bag, which you have decorated to look like a 5-pound bag of sugar. Tape one small tea bag to it, and go as sweet tea.

My dad and I loved to come up with nutty, complicated costumes when I was a kid.

One year I wanted to be a bubblegum ice cream cone. He built the infrastructure with medium gauge wire, and covered it with miles of wide masking tape, a la papier-mâché. We painted the bottom with beige spray paint, and with a large brown magic marker, drew in the crosshatching. The top was painted Barbie pink, then flecked with multi-colored “bubblegum.” Just don’t forget arm and eye holes.

One year we did a costume that won every contest I entered. It was hands down, one of the best Halloween costumes ever. I promise if you duplicate it, you will win Halloween.

It was a head on a table.

We cut corrugated card board into a large circle (about 3 feet across), with a hole cut in the middle. We placed upon it a cheap checkered table cloth, and glued on a cup, napkin, and plastic silverware. Over the hole, we placed a large plastic plate with a hole also cut in it.

I made up my face like a corpse, and set the table on my shoulders, with my seemingly decapitated noggin sitting on the plate. To cover the space around the hole, I placed some lettuce around my neck as a “garnish.” We taped a couple of pieces of cardboard support underneath so the table wouldn’t wobble, and I was good to go. I was the talk of the night.

If, unlike me, you can get a Halloween partner, I have some ideas for couples’ costumes.

You can do traditional pairings, like peanut butter and jelly, or bacon and eggs. But how about one of you dressing as a humungous, overstuffed fast-food burger, and the other can be a defibrillator? Or you can dress as Martha Stewart, and your collaborator can dress as a giant stick.

For last, I’ve saved something from the food world that’s guaranteed to strike horror in the hearts of just about everybody these days. Wear a beige shirt and a pair of pants, and attach giant rubber bands or inner tubes all over yourself. You can then terrorize the villagers as…

Gluten!

Thanks for your time.

CFS

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Originally published in the Herald-Sun 5-7-2012

Tonight Petey and I are having chicken-fried steak for dinner. It’s one of The Kid’s favorite foods. When our scholar came home last Spring, being a highly trained culinary student, the decision was made to make it for the family–solo. No advice was asked for, and the finished dish almost made my stoic child cry. It was all wrong.
Flour had been replaced with corn starch (for crunch, I was told). And there was not enough fat in the pan to cook them. The soggy coating didn’t hold up. It fell off in big slabs. The Kid was heartbroken.
“What happened? I was trying to improve it, and it’s awful!”
What happened is the fiddling with the procedure. I did the same thing forever. My thought, when attempting to “improve” it was, “I know better.” I didn’t.
My mom has, for as long as I can remember, made awesome CFS. The meat is covered with a light, crispy coating. Inside it’s tender and juicy. And the gravy, good grief, the gravy.
It’s thick and white, flecked with pepper and bits and pieces of the stuff left in the pan after frying the steaks. Growing up, I was constantly trying to come up with compelling reasons why I couldn’t help clean up after dinner. On Chicken fried steak night, I volunteered to tidy up all by myself.
Not because I was so grateful Mom had made CFS. But because I would take the opportunity to snack on the leftover gravy (straight from a spoon). I know, gross. But this is amazing gravy.
So, when cooking it on my own, I decided to use techniques that I had started using in other dishes. I would use sherry to flavor the gravy, and add beef stock, to deepen the flavors.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Every time I made it, it was awful. Each time, I would tweak my procedure to try and fix it. I still couldn’t make a decent CFS. It was always wrong and disappointing.
One day I had an epiphany. My mom’s was awesome. At least two family members asked for it for their birthday meals. So, what the heck was I doing, trying to improve on perfection?
I started watching my mom when she made it. There was nothing fancy about the way she made it, no herbs, or fancy techniques, or liquor, or sauce reductions.
I decided to make it in this simple, straightforward way. That was the day I cracked the code. What’s the code? There is no code.
I finally had made delicious chicken fried steak.
It’s a country dish, made with inexpensive ingredients, that folks make all the time. When I got over myself, and understood that the recipe doesn’t need my adjustments, it worked.
I finally asked my mother, a Jersey girl, how she learned to make such authentic, yummy chicken fried steak.
She told me when she was first married, and living in North Carolina, money was tight, and she was having trouble putting a hearty meal on the table each night.
Mizz Chapel, her next-door neighbor, and a born and bred Southern girl, came to her rescue with a couple of simple, cheap, country recipes. One of them was for CFS. And because mom is not an improviser in the kitchen, she always made it the same way. Just the way Mizz Chapel showed her. The right way.
If you want to go nuts in the kitchen, and invent new recipes, and improve old ones, go right ahead. But if you want true, authentic chicken fried steak, don’t mess around with it. The reason why it’s been made the same way for years and years, is because this is the way that works.

Mizz Chapel’s Authentic Chicken-Fried Steak and Gravy
1 1/2 pounds beef cube steak
3 cups flour
2 eggs
2 3/4 cup whole milk
vegetable oil
salt and pepper

Double dredge the steak: in one shallow dish, put seasoned flour. In another, whisk eggs and 3/4 cup milk. First dip steak in flour, then egg wash, and then back in the flour.
Heat enough oil in a frying pan to come half to three quarters up the steak. Fry steaks until browned and flip and cook the other side. The oil will be absorbed by the breading, so you will have to keep adding a little oil to the pan. DO NOT cook in a dry pan, your meat won’t get crispy if you do. Place cooked steak in a single layer on a drying rack in a 200 degree oven. This will keep them warm and crispy until you’re ready to eat.
Gravy: Use the same pan, unwashed. Pour off the fat, leaving two or three tablespoons. Sprinkle into it a few tablespoons of the flour from the dredge. Stir together until the flour loses the uncooked flavor and aroma. Into the bubbling roux, pour two cups of whole milk. When it boils, the gravy is ready. If it’s a little thick, add a little milk until you’re satisfied. If it’s a little thin, carefully sprinkle in flour and whisk it into the gravy (if you aren’t careful, you will get lumps of uncooked flour, so be gentle).
Taste for salt and pepper, and serve on steak with mashed potatoes or buttered noodles. A fresh, simply cooked, country veg, like carrots or squash, is a nice side.

Thanks for your time.