Forest Street Kitchen

Total Makeover Chicken Salad

imagineannie — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 00:14:27 +0000

You people (and I mean that in the nicest way possible) seem to like it when I make mistakes and confess. You may, therefore, enjoy this post even more than my “kitchen messes;” this is a story in which I cook something not-very-good, and someone else fixes it and makes it pretty damned good. You would have to know me personally to know how deeply it galls me to reveal that such a thing is even possible, but I offer this in the interest of full disclosure and the scientific method.

I was making chicken salad, which I do fairly often at this time of year, and which I generally do with a reasonable amount of flair and panache. This recipe is so near and dear to me, in fact, that I wrote about it in the first post on this blog. It is the summer soul food of upper middle class white women such as myself, and we take it very seriously. On this particular occasion, I was planning to use toasted pecans, dried Michigan cherries and a discreet amount of celery in addition to the basic chicken and mayonnaise.

The first problem was in the poaching. As I wrote in the original chicken salad post, I do my chicken poaching in the slow cooker most of the time, which allows it to cook slowly without my full attention, and to emerge tender and subtly flavored with onions, carrots, celery and any herbs I choose to throw in. The crucial phrase in the last sentence, however, is “full attention.” The chicken does require at least some attention, and I have now learned that 10 hours on even the lowest setting results in chicken that is the approximate consistency of moist sawdust, albeit it flavorful and moist sawdust. I could see, as I began to cut the “poached” breasts into cubes that they were edible, but would fall apart easily and probably require more than the usual amount of mayonnaise. The good news, if any, was that the chicken would not actually cause anyone to have splinters in their gums.

I then discovered that there was not really enough mayonnaise left for chicken in the “normal” range on the moistness scale, let alone the pre-sawdust range. I do not voluntarily consume mayonnaise, but I do use it in both chicken and egg salads as a matter of orthodoxy. Usually, unless there has been a bizarre spate of sandwich making, I am aware of exactly how much mayonnaise is in the jar, and know with calm smugness that I have or do not have “enough” on any given occasion. I have, however, been visited by a person who regularly spreads mayonnaise on bread (although only on good bread) and eats it as if it were bread and butter. Because this practice horrifies me, and I tend to avoid all visuaI evidence that it takes place, I had clearly missed the critical depletion of the mayonnaise supply.

Mr. Annie suggested that I add blue cheese dressing, and I gave it serious thought before proceeding. I could imagine the blue cheese with the pecans and the cherries (did I mention that I had no celery?) but I wasn’t sure about it with the chicken. Tired and hungry, I poured in all the remaining blue cheese dressing with reckless abandon. The salad was still dry. Our dinner guest (coincidentally, the consumer of my mayonnaise supply), suggested adding some olive oil to moisten the salad. Having already jumped the shark, culinarily speaking, I tried it. It was edible, but not good.

Our mayonnaise eating guest (aka The Friend I Can Cook With) asked if he could “play” with the remaining salad and see what he could do. Alarms went off. Hackles raised. This was not someone cooking in my kitchen with me, following my lead or at least working in consultation with me. This was someone “fixing” my cooking, something that has not been required since I was in high school and failed to add the water to the frozen peas. It was also A Guest, and I was instructed to relax and watch TV while he rummaged through cabinets and the refrigerator, trying to spin gold out of straw. I poured a glass of Pinot Grigio, calculated our co-pay for therapy, and agreed.

When the salad reappeared in its Total Makeover form, it was good. Really good. Not chicken salad as I know it, and probably not as you know it, but still good. He had added more olive oil, Balsamic vinegar, dry sherry, red onions and lemon, and mixed it until the chicken (released from the tension of maintaining extremely tenuous cubes) fell apart into tuna-like shreds. I don’t know why it worked, and it certainly shouldn’t have, but it was a vast improvement. I was even more tired, and even more hungry, and I fell on my plate of vaguely Italianate chicken salad with great gusto.

There is no recipe; the salad may be a valid entry in “The Journal of Irreproducable Culinary Results” There is also no moral to this story; the moral would have to be that sometimes giving up control leads to good things. That being patently untrue, I will simply leave you to form your own conclusions.

What’s For Dinner?

imagineannie — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 01:08:28 +0000

Although it is summer, and I am supposed to be lying around reading novels and watching kids splash in the pool, I am actually experiencing full-bore busy-ness with only occasional moments to drink beer on the porch or pretend to garden. (I guess that’s kind of a giveaway about my gardening prowess - I’m thinking that people who actually grow stuff did a lot of work in the spring and are now doing things like mulching and weeding. Or whatever it is that they do).

People around here still need to eat, though, and its starting to be possible to use fresh, perfect things from the farmer’s market. No tomatoes yet, or eggplant, or melons, but there are onions and potatoes and herbs, and the start of zucchini and broccoli. I have decided on a week of dinners that alternates between labor-intensive and ridiculously easy, on the chance that on an “easy” night I will find myself with time to sit on the porch, feet up on the railing, drinking iced tea (or Red Stripe) and finishing the mystery that has been sitting by the side of my bed since Hannibal crossed the Alps. Here’s what’s cooking on Forest Street this week:

Saturday

Burgers with Cheese, Red Onions and Avocado; Potato Chips; Strawberries

Definitely pushing the “easy” button here. Just try to make me feel guilty.

Sunday

Asian Marinated Grilled Chicken Thighs; Thai Noodles with Peanut Sauce; Melon

Depending on my level of inspiration I will either make or buy the marinade for the chicken thighs; the noodles are delicious and fairly healthy, and I like them cold just as well as hot.

Monday

Breakfast Burritos; Fresh Pineapple

Chorizo, scrambled eggs, onions and jalapenos cooked together and rolled in a flour tortilla with hot sauce and cool pineapple on the side.

Tuesday

Chicharrones de Pollo; Rice; Zucchini

Time-consuming. Unhealthy. Fabulous.

Wednesday

Grilled Italian Sausage Sandwiches; Potato Chips; Fresh Fruit

These will be the standard grilled Italian sausages in a roll with some melted provolone and a healthy dollop of sauteed onions and peppers. We will have eaten all of the fruit by Wednesday, so I’ll go look for something that looks good - maybe peaches or plums.

Thursday

Topopo Salad

Again, labor-intensive, but worth it. A perfect summer dinner with a bottle of Corona and a walk to Tastee Twist for ice cream later in the evening. (Fireflies mandatory).

Friday

Ribs; Fried Potatoes, and Coleslaw

I will use my “lazy” slowcooker-to-grill method for the ribs. I have been loving very young, un-peeled red potatoes or fingerlings sliced very thin and fried in a pan with olive oil and onions and topped with a little Fleur de Sel (and possibly white truffle oil), and I never made cole slaw this week, as I was supposed to, so I still owe everybody some cabbage.

Good Soup

imagineannie — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 18:28:27 +0000

Recently I wrote about my experience baking bread that turned out, unaccountably, to resemble some form of punitive nourishment intended for prison inmates enduring “the hole” due to unmentionable crimes against nature. As I mentioned in that post, the bread was intended to accompany a potato and leek soup, which turned out to be as good as the bread was bad.

If one is a fan of Julia Child, and has used either or both volumes of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, this kind of basic, creamy, potato and leek soup is instantly recognizable. It is easily dressed up with snippets of green beans, carrots, fennel, parsnips, asparagus or any other vegetables you have lying about, and is generally served hot, although a cold, pureed version is the equally wonderful Vichyssoisse. This recipe (from The Bon Apetit Cookbook because I can’t locate my mother’s copies of Julia Child’s books in order to steal them) specifies that the soup should be served hot and spiced with tarragon, I used chives instead, and served it hot for dinner, and then pureed it and ate it cold for lunch the next day. It was splendid in both incarnations. This is a good standard to have in your repertoire all year round.

Leek, Potato and Tarragon Soup

(Adapted from The Bon Apetit Cookbook)

3 tablespoons butter
2 cups chopped leeks (white and pale green parts only; about 2 large)
1 small onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, sliced
2 tablespoons water
1/2 pound red-skinned potatoes, unpeeled, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
4 cups low-salt chicken or vegetable broth
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon (I used chives, and think chervil, dill or even cilantro might be interesting)
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/2 cup plain yogurt (I used Greek yogurt because its what I have in the house)

Melt butter in large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add leeks, onions, garlic and 2 tablespoons water. Cook until leeks are golden, about 10 minutes. Add potatoes and broth; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes. Mix in tarragon (or chives).

Stir in cream and yogurt. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Penne with Sugar Snap Peas and Prosciutto

imagineannie — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 23:08:18 +0000

Recently, much of my culinary mojo has been focused on getting my mother to eat actual food during her stint in orthopedic rehab. One day not too long ago, a Real Live Italian Angel (no, really) sent me some sugar snap peas fresh from the farmers market, along with a generous quantity of really good prosciutto. [Edited to add: I have now been informed that the sugar snap peas came not from the market, but from the garden of the Italian Angel. In addition to her celestial duties she is also a Master Gardner]. It happened that the Pea and Prosciutto Courier had been entrusted with a recipe for a quick, fresh, pasta dish using both ingredients to great advantage, and we whipped some up. At our house we ate the dish alongside a beautiful piece of cod baked with butter and lemon, but my mother ate hers all by itself, savoring every still-crunchy pea.

Penne with Sugar Snap Peas and Prosciutto

1 lb. dried penne pasta
1 onion, diced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1-2 tablespoons butter
3/4 lb. sugar snap peas, strings pulled
1/4 lb. prosciutto
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
Splash dry white wine (optional)
Grated Parmesan Cheese (optional)

Begin boiling water for pasta, and steam sugar snap peas; your goal is just to get the raw taste out of them while leaving them crisp. If you have a pasta pot with a steamer insert, you can steam peas over the pasta water for 2-3 minutes, otherwise they are easily steamed in the microwave or in a folding steamer insert.

When water is boiling, salt water, add pasta, and boil for 10 minutes.

While pasta boils, melt butter in large saucepan over medium heat, add olive oil and sautee onion until transparent. Add prosciutto and sautee about 2 more minutes. Add steamed peas, a splash of white wine, and salt and pepper to taste.

Drain pasta, reserving a cup of water from the pasta pot. Stir pasta into pea and prosciutto mixture, adding a bit of pasta water to form a bit of sauce.

Serve with Parmesan for grating.

Bad Bread

imagineannie — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 22:00:27 +0000

So a couple of nights ago I made a beautiful potato and leek soup (about which more later) and I decided that bread was necessary to round out the meal. Bear in mind that it is intolerably hot here, and that no sane person would bake bread if they could pick up a nice loaf from Zingerman’s at the grocery store, but I was fixated on coming up with a couple of loaves of wheat bread just because I could.

Or so I thought. I have been baking bread for 30 years, having started in the 70s when I wanted my family to eat nothing that didn’t come from the pages of “The Moosewood Cook Book” or Laurel’s Kitchen.” I learned to proof, knead and tap loaf bottoms for done-ness, with some help from my mother, and I have always loved the sense of working with live ingredients that respond to my touch and become much more than flour, water, salt and yeast. From my earliest days in Earth Shoes and Seals & Crofts in the background, I have been calmed, empowered and spiritually enlarged by the bread making process.

The other night, though, I was thwarted in The Zen of Bread almost immediately by the fact that the recipe called for powdered milk, and I had none. In the spirit of adventure, I decided to try using malted milk instead. I figured (contrary to any evidence on the label) that it must have some dried dairy component, and that its sweetness would be balanced if I also omitted the brown sugar called for in the recipe. I imagined a slightly sweet loaf with a hint of malt that would, in some transigurative way, be the umame of bread. i made the bread as i always do, and it looked fairly normal during its rising process. It smelled good as it baked, and I broke out the stash of sweet butter from the farmers’ market, ready to dazzle my audience with my ability to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat through sheer creativity. After a tap test and a brief period on the cooling rack, I sawed off a heel and slathered it with butter. Cook’s treat.

The taste of the alleged “bread” was so vile, and so bizarre that i literally had to spit it out. By virtue of some chemical reaction unfathomable to the simple home cook, the bread was not only slightly sweet and malty, but had a taste so bitter and potentially toxic that there was really only one thing I could do. Well, two. I sent someone to the grocery store for a loaf of Zingerman’s bread, and I put my bread away.

Photo Design: Blushing Guy

Garbage Stylist: Imagineannie

Happy Fourth!!!!

imagineannie — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 12:37:48 +0000

What’s For Dinner

imagineannie — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 03:13:22 +0000

Life is still a little crazy in these parts, but I am trying valiantly to strike a balance between what’s easy (mainly all things marinated and/or grilled with something fresh and something starchy on the side) and what’s interesting to cook and eat. The Farmers’ Market is just starting to have things that were actually grown here, and I don’t want to miss anything while its in season. Although its always subject to change depending on my whims, and what I find at the market on Saturday morning, here’s what I think we’re eating on Forest Street next week:

Saturday

Out to Dinner

We’re headed to Crunchy’s, a local burger and pizza place with a great beer selection, popular with college students. Its safe for those of us in our Golden Years during the summer.

Sunday

Grilled Chicken Breasts with Barbecue Sauce, Rice Pilaf and Roasted Carrots

The roasted carrots are from a “Barefoot Contessa” cook book, and it may just be too hot to run the oven, in which case the carrots (hopefully the same small, sweet local variety I found at the market last week) will be grilled, instead.

Monday

Leek, Potato and Tarragon Soup and Homemade Bread

If its as cool as its been lately, the soup will be hot and i will actually bake bread. If its Africa Hot, I’ll chill the soup a la Vichyssoise and buy a couple of good baguettes. I am hoping to find leeks, potatoes and tarragon fresh at the market.

Tuesday

Pan Fried Chicken Breasts, Risotto with Vegetables

The chicken breasts will be breaded lightly, and for the risotto I’ll use whatever is fresh and local at the market - zucchini, scallions, green beans…its all good.

Wednesday

Ribs, Coleslaw and Baked Beans

I’ll do the ribs using my slow cook-and-finish-on-the-grill method, and do a partial cheat for the coleslaw by buying the shredded cabbage but making my own dressing. I still haven’t decided if I’m going creamy mayonnaise-y or vinegar-y. The beans will, I confess, be produced mainly through the use of a can opener and the application of direct heat.

Thursday

Tandoori Chicken Sandwiches, Potato Chips and Strawberries

The chicken recipe comes from “The Bon Apetit Cook Book,” and is new to me. I am still fixated on Indian food, and it seemed like a way to get a little Mumbai into our lives without frightening the horses.

Friday

Fettucine with Prosciutto, Peas and Lemon Chive Sauce and Salad

Another recipe from “The Bon Apetit” book, that calls for a number of fresh ingredients I should be able to find at the Farmers’ Market.

That’ll Teach ‘Em…

imagineannie — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 01:17:45 +0000

I would eat grilled, marinated chicken, rice pilaf and asparagus every night. At least for a while. Maybe a month or two. When I offered it to the boys as a dinner option, however, I was greeted with facial expressions more appropriate to a three-year exile on the Gulag Archipelago. I could not get a straight answer about what was wrong with this dinner (which I thought we all enjoyed); after extensive inquiry the best I got was a passive-aggressive “it’s really okay,” which made me feel simultaneously guilty and annoyed.

Boxed pilaf lasts forever, and I was going to have to go out and buy fresh asparagus, anyway. The boneless,. skinless chicken breasts, however, really needed to be eaten. I rummaged through the cupboards and found a can of San Marzano Tomatoes and a bag of linguine, and I always have onions, garlic, carrots, and olive oil. I also remembered that I had fresh basil and a container of heavy cream left over from a recipe that lost out to take out one night earlier in the week. The game was afoot, and no one in this house was going to roll their eyes at an “okay” dinner. I was going to make them beg for seconds.

This is what I made, and I have to say with complete immodesty that while it was not healthy, and highly inauthentic as Italian cuisine, it was very, very tasty and they ate every last bit.

Chicken and Linguine with Tomato Basil Cream Sauce

4 large or 6 small boneless, skinless chicken breasts cleaned, trimmed and cut into bite-sized pieces
1 can San Marzano Tomatoes, briefly pulsed in food processor or blender
1 onion, chopped.
3 cloves garlic, diced
1 clove garlic crushed
1/4 cup shredded carrot
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided in half
1/4-1/2 cup chopped, fresh basil
1 pound linguine
1 cup half & half or heavy cream
salt and pepper
red wine (optional)
sugar (optional)
Parmesan cheese

Fill large pot with water for pasta and bring to a boil.

In a large saucepan, sautee onions, garlic and carrots in 2 tablespoons olive oil until tender. Add tomatoes and basil, and a splash of red wine if you like; bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer.

In a large sautee pan, heat olive oil and sautee 1 crushed garlic clove until golden; remove with slotted spoon. Add chicken to pan, salt and pepper, and sautee until golden brown. Add chicken to sauce mixture.

Boil pasta for 10 minutes. During final 2 minutes remove sauce from heat, add cream and taste, adding salt and pepper if necessary. If sauce is too tart for your taste, add a pinch of sugar to correct.

Serve linguine with sauce, and Parmesan to grate. This is perfect with a green salad lightly dressed with oil and vinegar, and a bottle of good red wine.

Too Much Tube Curry

imagineannie — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 00:35:20 +0000

When I was among the single, I had a nearly religious anti-television stance. I had a couple of things I liked to watch, but when I had children i was certain that they would never be tube-focused couch potatoes, and that if they were watching television, it would be something about Peruvian architecture or quantum physics.

As is often the case, expediency and convenience trumped ideals, and I am now part of a TV Family. The bad news is that, like many people, we watch too much that is junk (the media equivalent of fast food), but the good news is that some of what we watch, particularly about food and travel, is very interesting and enjoyed by all of us. “Top Chef,” “Iron Chef America,” the British version of Gordon Ramsay’s “Kitchen Nightmares,” and anything in which Anthony Bourdain travels are very high on our collective list.

Last week, I watched a DVD of Bourdain’s “No Reservations” which included two separate shows about India, as well as Indonesia. The first India episode focused on Rajasthan, the second on Mumbai and Kolkata; the Indonesia journey focused on Bali and Jakarta. Watching, I was riveted by the colors, the differences in cultures, and (of course) the food. The curries, tandooris, bread and yogurts of India are not unfamiliar to me, and Indonesian food is in many ways similar to Malaysian cuisine which I love. What I had really never seen or understood was the variety and significance of spices, their freshness, and the different ways in which they are used regionally. I became obsessed with recreating Nasei Goreng, a spicy rice dish served with an egg on top, which I often ordered at our beloved and now defunct local Malaysian restaurant.

The next night brought an episode of “Kitchen Nightmares” focused on a dying restaurant in Hampshire, England. One of the simple, local dishes Ramsay taught the chefs to prepare was a sautee of fresh, local mushrooms served on top of a perfectly poached egg on toast. It appealed to me both in its simplicity and in the use of a few fresh, delicious ingredients relatively un-messed with and prepared without pretense or lily gilding.

For lunch today, I created a Southeast Asian-Hampshire fusion (I know, it would never sell as the cuisine for a restaurant) which was quite good. I may watch too much TV, but at least we got a really good lunch out of it. (There is no picture because a) we ate it immediately, and b) it was as unattractive as it was delicious. I’m not sure I can do anything about that).

Cook rice.

While rice is cooking, sautee onions, garlic and mushrooms until mushrooms are tender and onions are transparent. Add about 1 tablespoon Garam Masala and a pinch of salt and pepper, and continue to cook until fragrant. Add broth and stir, scraping up bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, add basil, and cook to reduce sauce, stirring occasionally. Taste sauce and add more Garam Masala, salt and pepper until you reach a level of spiciness that you like.

While sauce cooks, and about 5 minutes before the rice is done, fry eggs in a large skillet, leaving yolks runny. (You could poach them, if you prefer). To serve, fill a bowl with rice, top with two eggs and a ladle full of sauce. A little chutney doesn’t hurt.

Boy Meets Egg

imagineannie — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 02:29:26 +0000

Yesterday, my son Sam announced his intention to make egg salad for our lunch. He does not actually eat egg salad; he just felt like making some, and knows that Mr. Annie and I both like it. He was busy in the kitchen for a while, and then informed me that the water was boiling and that he wasn’t sure what to do. Blithely assuming that the eggs were already in the water, I told him to turn the heat off and leave the eggs in the water for 18 minutes.

Have I mentioned that the road to hell is paved with good intentions? The eggs were, in fact, not put into the water until it came to a boil, and the result after 18 minutes in the cooling water was a batch of eggs that were, at best, soft boiled, and which had been brutally stabbed with a knife to determine their done-ness. This unusual method of assessment (likely based on watching his father check meat on the grill) resulted in streamers of simmering white floating around the undercooked and violated eggs like some exotic flora of the sea.

As no one in this family particularly enjoys soft boiled eggs, particularly when they are water-logged, I suggested a complete do-over. Another 6 eggs were placed in the pot with cold water, brought to a boil, and then timed for 18 minutes. As they were cooking and cooling, I evaluated the somewhat Brobdingnagian hunks of onion he had cut earlier, and suggested in a manner both kind and compassionate that most people like fairly small pieces of onion in egg salad. He graciously agreed to chop them a little finer, and actually did quite a workman-like job.

Once the eggs were done, he rinsed them in cold water, peeled them all quite neatly, and put them in the bowl with the onions. He was delighted by my method of chopping the eggs (I go after them with either a pastry cutter or a whisk, depending on what’s clean) and very attentive to my explanation concerning the benefits of “binding” ingredients with mayonnaise as opposed to engaging in indiscreet glopping. We added a little mustard, salt and pepper, and I left him to the business of making sandwiches (on toasted whole wheat bread).

He will be a good cook, I think. He is interested in the right way to do things in the kitchen, but also in the sensuous and aesthetic aspects of food from the way a little salt can make things come alive, to the contrast between soft, cool salad and crunchy, hot toast. I also know with great certainty that he really knows how to hard-boil eggs now, and it was worth the loss of the first six to have taught a good lesson and shared a good time in the kitchen.

Egg Salad a Kid Can Make

6 Large or Extra Large eggs
1 onion, finely chopped
Mayonnaise, to taste
1 teaspoon mustard (optional)
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Place eggs in medium saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring water to a boil, then remove pan from heat and let eggs remain in water for 15-18 minutes depending on size of eggs.

While eggs are cooking, mince onion and place in mixing bowl.

When eggs are finished cooking, run cold water into the pot until eggs are cold to the touch, peel them, add to the onion, and chop with a fork or other implement. Add salt, pepper and mustard (if you like) as well as enough mayonnaise to hold everything together.

Serve in sandwiches, place a dollop on a ladylike piece of lettuce with a side of fruit salad, or eat from the mixing bowl standing over the sink.