Grandma's Thanksgiving Rolls

My mom's family has a theory about Thanksgiving: you must spend at least a week prior to the holiday "training" your stomach.  By eating too much in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, your stomach will be adequately stretched out and able to take in much more holiday food than it otherwise could.  


If my maternal family instilled in me a lifelong obsession and hunger for food, my paternal side gave me the respect and craving for simple, hearty fare. They are farm people; in their kitchens, nothing is ever wasted, nothing is thrown away. You won't find fois gras in the farm kitchen, but you will learn how to de-bone a chicken, cook the meat, make stock from the skin and bones, and throw whatever's left into the ensuing soup. Bonus points if there is a dog around to slurp up the scraps.

I spent hours as a kid helping my grandmother, and then my father, learning to cook in their farmhouse tradition, where nothing was wasted and everything came from scratch. Thanksgiving and Christmas turkey carcasses always became pots of stock and chicken soup (with homemade noodles, carrots, celery, onions, and parsley, plus lots of black pepper - simple perfection) the next day. In fact, most leftovers that didn't get subsumed into a following meal got thrown into a soup pot for the best sort of recycling I've ever tasted. 

My grandma (both of them, actually) passed on when I was just a child, so my memories of her I savor and relish. I make her rolls every holiday, not only because they are the best vehicles for turkey sandwiches (with only yellow mustard - I'm a purist), but because thoughts of grandma showing me how to make them permeate their flavor still.


These are a simple variation on a classic parker house roll.  You heat water, sugar and butter to boiling.  Cool, sprinkle with yeast, then mix in eggs, flour, and salt.  An overnight rise, then they're rolled out, stamped, and patted with more butter before being left to rise a second time before being baked up into buttery, slightly sweet golden perfection.  

Our tradition was to pat one roll with jam instead of butter. The person who unwittingly took the jam roll from the basket was blessed with good luck in the coming year.  These so remind me of my family and my grandma that regardless if whether I get the jam roll, I'm still lucky.

Thanksgiving!!!

Contrary to the carols that now stream endlessly from every easy-listening radio station and elevator, Thanksgiving is the most wonderful time of the year.  A holiday centered on FOOD, family, and appreciating what we have.  Adding to the food-centric splendor, Thanksgiving also kicks off a month-long holiday season leading up to Christmas, the reason why I never mind winter's return every year.  

Thanksgiving is over, alas, and my favorite food-centric holiday is but a memory (unless you count the extra gooshiness around my waistline, which will take a bit longer to fade away).  Surprisingly, I did very little cooking this year, as we had two sets of parents and siblings all pitching in to create one spectacular feast.  We started off they day with some cranberry Prosecco fizzes, samples of two batches of home-brew beer, and a spread consisting of a sweet-n-spicy brown sugar snack mix with wasabi peas and cranberries, smoked gruyere, water crackers, prosciutto, Reem's chipped beef dip, and a brie in puff pastry with almonds and apricots.  I can take credit for a batch of beer and the brie - recipe for the latter coming soon.

Several hours after letting this initial feast settle, we dove into the main event - fresh turkey with cranberry shallot glaze, roasted sweet potatoes with sugared pecans, three kinds of dressing (cranberry cornbread; traditional oyster; sage and mushroom), fancy green bean casserole, apple cider gravy, and grandma's rolls (another recipe on its way).  So much food...so much family...so much fun...so much love.

Until I get the few recipes posted - including my most favorite to-date leftovers sandwich - I leave you with simply the eye candy that was our spread of food.  I hope all of your holidays were as memorable and filling as ours.

Early Thanksgiving Bonus Recipe - Banana-Cranberry Muffins with Streusel

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, my dear friends. I am only cooking small contributions to the big meal this year, having shuffled off hosting duty to my wonderful parents-in-law AND gotten my own parents to come down, too.  Two families' worth of food traditions?  This Thanksgiving will be, as Swarles Barkley says, LEGENDARY.

So I am whipping up a few family specialties - my grandma's exquisite buttery dinner rolls, a brie in puff pastry with almonds and apricots (for the before time...to keep the cooks' energies up!).  Maybe my grandpa's orange-cranberry relish.  These little post-a-roos will come after the holiday bloat, after the meal is digested, when you're looking at a fridge full of leftovers and wondering, "what now?"

This little recipe concoction calls for dried cranberries to be mixed right into the batter - a fine way to enjoy them.  But, in the spirit of Thanksgiving leftovers, why don't you try it with leftover fresh cranberries (made the same way, just increase the amount to a cup) or with leftover cranberry sauce.  The latter would probably be good either mixed in (thought it will muddy the color) or, better yet, left out of the batter -- then spooned in to the center of each full muffin cup, like a surprise filling!  Or 'marbled' onto the top, before the streusel goes on. Oh, there are just so may options...just like a Thanksgiving table!

What sets these muffins apart from regular banana breads is the citrus zest.  In fact, the first time I made them, I replaced the cinnamon/clove/nutmeg with a pumpkin pie spice mix that had lemon essence/extract in it.  If you're looking to amp up the citrus notes, feel free to add lemon zest too. Hey, you could even try replacing the water with orange juice, although I wonder if that would muddle flavors too much.  The banana is present but not overwhelming; the cranberries are tart but still sweet; and the citrus is almost an aroma in the palate – a hint, but a strong one. Like my hint for you to make me some of these. 

Marinated Cauliflower...

Wherever it is from, behold:  This is a strange beast.

I initially pulled it out (from….um….Cooking Light?  I have no idea)  because I needed something to do with a leftover ½ head of cauliflower.  And I'm always on the lookout for different, interesting things to do with vegetables besides steaming them or roasting them, two options it seems that I just default to time and time again.  (Both are good ways to prepare them, but you get bored doing the same thing over, and over...)  After I made it…well, there are better things to do with leftover cauliflower. 

It’s not that it’s a bad recipe – the flavors are good, and the vinaigrette dressing uses common ingredients and good flavors that I’ve used in many, many a vinaigrette before (Dijon mustard; red onion; olive oil).  I like the saltiness of the olives (I didn’t have capers) and the bite of the vinegar, but it just didn’t come together for me. 

The vinegar was too strong – instead of the called-for white, I’d use cider.  The salad tasted more pickled than marinated – not bad, but not what I was after.  And with nothing else in the salad, it just seemed a little…empty.  It’s OK, and it would probably be a big hit on, say, an Italian antipasti platter, because the acidity would cut right through the rich, saltiness of salumi and cheese.  But as a side dish it left me wanting…something else. 

If you have a leftover head of cauliflower, and you don’t know what to do with it….ROAST IT!  Tossed with olive oil, salt & pepper, give it 20-25 minutes in a 425 oven.  It gets brown, nutty, and delicious – truly different than most of its usually uncooked applications. 

If you don’t want to roast it, or if you have an antipasti platter laying around, you could try this.   It’s not that bad…but it’s not that good either.  But, hey, at least we used up that cauliflower. Modified recipe after the jump. 

  

Chicken Pesto Pizza

This is another one from the archives, another testament to the inner chubster who guides my every waking moment with thoughts of food, more food, and "hey, how 'bout s'more food."  

So I think people who look at the recipes on this blog know that I favor simple foods.  Not that I don't enjoy different, exotic, dare-I-say gourmet creations.  It's just that my budget, ability, and time preclude me from fixing them in my own home. I let restaurant chefs have control over the gourmet, and I follow my own personal ethos of simple, satisfying and comforting at home, for the most part.  

Which somehow brings me once again to the topic of pizza, and how much of it I make.  Perhaps its my mild obsession with finding the perfect dough recipe, or a chronic addiction to my pizza stone, an ongoing hunt for fresh and full-fat mozzerella varieties in every store, or just the simple reason that I really, really, really like it that explains why I make pizza so darn much.  

Really, despite its reputation as a "bad for you" food, pizza is only what you put on it.  You could make it entirely without cheese and remove a large portion of the fat & calories. Use whole-grain or whole-wheat flour (unbleached white at the very least, my usual go-to) in the crust and feel better about the carbs. At the very least, you control how much of anything you put on it, so you have a good idea how healthy or indulgent any given pie will be. 

This one came about because of a marriage of circumstances: an abundant CSA share led me to make a huge batch of Basil-Arugula Pesto (recipe below), an aging dough from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day needed to be used up, and some cooked chicken breast (a great thing to make in advance and keep  for quick dinners and add-ins) was on hand.  Huzzah, and behold the Chicken Pesto Pizza!

Unlike many proper pestos, I tend to make mine pretty scant on the olive oil.  As a result, this pizza didn't have the overly oily top that I've seen on restaurant versions.  I "dried" the tomatoes on paper towel before topping the pizza to keep the moisture level down as well (soggy crust is a big no-no in Cheeks' kitchen) and sauteed the mushrooms to deepen their flavor before adding them as well.  A few chunks of fresh mozzerella substituted well for a richer blanketing layer.  Accompanied by a green salad, the humble pesto pizza becomes a rounded and, certainly, healthier take on a much-maligned, but much loved, dish.

Sausage Rolls

What do you do with Italian sausage?  This is the question in its entirety that I googled yesterday trying to think of something to do with the two sweet Italian sausage links sitting in my fridge. I quickly crossed of the most common options:

• Sausage sub/hero/on a bun: not what I wanted, had no buns, kinda boring
• Pasta with sausage: again, just seemed boring and uninteresting for dinner, and I'm generally not a big pasta fan at all, so....
• Risotto, perhaps with spinach: I love risotto in restaurants, but never like it when I made it at home...probably due to my unwillingness to use a stick of butter and lots of cream and cheese. 
• Pizza...a worthy suggestion, but it happened to be the reason I bought the sausage (and used a link) in the first place, so going back to it seemed "cheating"...
• Hmmmmm....that's about where my ideas ended.

So, hence the google search, which pulled up lots of ideas...for sausage heroes, sausage pasta, sausage risotto.  Le sigh.  But wait!  An unassuming link promised something I'd seen mentioned many times on The Food Pornographer's website, perhaps an Australian tradition but not one I'd ever had - Sausage Rolls!

Basically, you make a meatball-ish mixture using the sausage meat, encase it in puff pastry, slice the logs into bite-size pieces, and bake them up into little pop-able morsels, serving with marinara sauce to dip.  Sounds delicious, right?  Why have I never had something so good?!  It was time to remedy the sitch.  And, I figured, if I made a giant spinach-and-veggie salad to be the major space-holder on our dinner plates, I could sneak these indulgent treats by as a side, rather than a main.  Dinner was planned!

Turns out defrosting puff pastry in the microwave is not a good idea - something I could have figured out, but didn't, and had no time to spare anyway.  Unrolling my sticky, melty puff pastry and trying to roll it out was not a fun process, boys and girls, but I made it work.  However, I think it might have impacted the puffiness of my rolls - although, thankfully,not their taste.

How did they taste? Delicious!  Mixing the sausage meat with fresh (challah) breadcrumbs, milk, onion, garlic, and seasoning kept it tender while also freshening up the flavor.  The pastry got nice and crispy, with an irresistable browned top that kept us reaching back for more.  Plus, it streched 1/2 a package of puff pastry and 2 sausage links to at least 36 appetizers, making it fairly economical.

In addition, we've got a spare log in the freezer (though had I not saved it I bet we could have eaten the whole thing), so it's an easy make-ahead and cook-when-needed appetizer. And...c'mon, pastry and sausage?  What's not to like.

Pad Flippin' Thai

If you are at all like me, and, who knows, maybe you are equally unusual, then you probably find yourself in a dillemma once in a while, when the urge to consume is strong, but the energy to cook or be inventive or create is loooooow.  What to do, what to do, when you just don't wanna cook?

Forget hamburger helper, forget take out, forget meals-in-a-bag.  NO!  The sodium content of that stuff alone should be enough to dissuade you from cooking them.

Instead, AVAST, and get thee to an Asian Supermarket. You need but two things in your cupboard to ensure that you will always, always have dinner on hand: rice noodles and pad thai sauce. You don't need lots of veggies, you don't need meat, you don't need to stop at the store.  You just need a pan, a bowl, and a mouth.  Done and done.

Soak rice noodles in hot water for 15-20 minutes.  Stir fry whatever you have in the bottom of your crisper drawer - onions, garlic, carrots, peppers, whatever, along with a beaten egg or two thrown in at the end.  Add the noodles and the sauce, cook for 2 minutes, and that's about it.  Much like today's blog post, this dinner takes no effort, requires no talent, and is no problem.

We ate this for dinner two nights this week, and it's only Thursday.

Curried Farfalle Chicken Salad

It happened again.  I got home from work today and decided that I needed to make two meals, instead of just one.  Why do I do this?  Much like the Boy Scouts who are taught to “always be prepared,” it seems I am ingrained with a need to always be prepared for my next eating experience.  This leads to endless thinking ahead about meals, wondering how to use leftovers while I’m cooking the main event, and many other future-food-related habits that leave A shaking his head and wondering who this food beast is that he married. 

This endless food scheming has its advantages, however.  Nothing pleases me more, especially in the winter, than spending a Sunday afternoon making large batches of soup, breads, snacks, stews, and the like, giving us a rich cache of foodstuffs to eat for lunch and otherwise throughout the week.  I’ll often make up a pasta salad or other cold dish to keep in the fridge for A to eat when I’m at work and to fill my dingy old lunch bag.  I like to have food on hand, all right?  Because god forbid I’d ever let the fridge go bare.

With this thought in mind, I set about making a recipe that had been bookmarked for ages – so long, in fact, that I had totally forgotten about it: Curry Chicken Pasta Salad from The Pioneer Woman. The combination of sweet golden raisins, crunchy celery & almonds, and spicy curry powder was enticing, and it seemed a great single-bowl lunch dish to eat the week through.

Then, I noticed the dressing: full-fat mayo, full-fat sour cream, and heavy cream?  Have mercy.  I dunno, I just can’t cook like that.  I mean – I’ll eat the crap out of crap at restaurants (fried cheese?  Sign me up) but when it comes to my own kitchen, I just cannot do it.  Still, it had lots of good ideas – cooking the pasta in the water you poach the chicken with, adding flavor to the noodles while saving a pot and re-using the water; mixing chicken and fruit and nuts and veggies into what some might at first glance assume to be an unhealthy dish.  But I wanted to change that perception.

Instead, I scrapped her three-fold fat attack and used 2% Fage Greek yogurt, thinned with a bit of 1% milk.  I also left out the sugar, figuring the raisins would be sweet enough.  I also added in some green onions, since it just seemed right for the recipe (and I had bought a giant bag of them at Trader Joe’s).  And I decreased the amount of chicken to 1.5 small breasts, in fact only cooking one and chopping up the remainder of a leftover chicken breast that was just hangin’ out in the fridge.  Since you use a large amount of curry, and I took the initiative to add Old Bay (I am ADDICTED to it) it needed barely any additional seasoning but a pinch of salt.

We loved the combination of flavors from the curry and the raisins with the more vegetal elements.  It dried out a bit in the fridge overnight – I probably should have reserved a bit of the yogurt to mix-in as needed in the days following, but then again bringing it to room temperature loosens it up a bit too.  It’s packed with protein, so it’s a nice filling, nutritious lunch.  Now, where did I put those cheese sticks…? 

Visit the link above for the original recipe, or see my slight adaptations after the JUMP.

Challah, light

It looks prettier when not viewed through a camera phone.  I left my camera in my work bag.  DAMN.

Cooking Light is an interesting magazine.  I grew up reading my mom's subscription, and its recipes were identifiable for the many "shortcuts" they used to achieve full-ish flavor from light and fat free ingredients.  Yogurt instead of sour cream; milk/buttermilk instead of cream; applesauce subbed for oil in baked goods; and all of those fat-free and low-fat bastardized versions of the real thing.

But those things give me the heebie jeebies.  What, pray tell, are you eating when you eat fat-free butter?  What homogenized chemicals must be processed indefinitely to produce something like that? Certainly, not all reduced fat items are bad, and some I actually like just as much as the regular version (neuftachel cheese, 2% greek yogurt), but still...fat-free cream cheese?  What are you actually eating?

A kitchen scale makes baking so much easier.

Recently, though, Cooking Light has somewhat changed its ethos away from "fake-out" cooking towards a more moderate approach.  Instead of turkey bacon, their recipes will now use regular bacon - just sparingly, and in consideration of what's in teh rest of the meal too.  Likewise, trans-fat filled margarine now cedes its place in the ingredient list to real butter, just again with a thought to what else you're eating and what else is going in the dish.  Cooking Light is a great source - and inspiration - when trying to eat healthier without feeling like you only eat salads.  Plus, their recipes are generally good.  Yeah, some taste like health food, but most are easy, and they work.  This is important.

Love the action shot of my gorgeous KitchenAid....

Their Thanksgiving 2010 issue features a great cache of lightened-up and updated holiday recipes, including one for a Fontina and Chive Challah bread.  Challah is, I'm told, a traditional Jewish bread enriched with butter and eggs, somewhat like Brioche. It is usually braided into a loaf and brushed with egg wash to help the top bake up with a deep golden brown crust.  I know it  from deli counters and countless grilled cheeses - something about the eggy, buttery bread with its crusty top layer just welcomes toasting, sandwiching, and endless extra bites.

I had planned to make soup for dinner that night, but needed something to go alongside, hopefully something to dip into the brothy bottoms of the soup bowl.  Although I lacked fontina, I decided to give this challah a go, albeit a plain version, halving the recipe as well to prevent the inevitable eating of two loaves of bread before they go stale.

Sorry about the camera phone shot...

The recipe called for a few eggs, a few yolks, and very specific amounts of two kinds of flour.  But, since it required three separate rises, and I wanted to make it in one day, I woke up early to start mixing the dough.  As a result, my math (and reading) skills weren't quite up to par at that daybreaking hour, so I sorta "winged" the amounts.  I'm pretty sure I used too many eggs, and not enough flour, so the recipe below is definitely not the same in its exactness as the original.  Cooking Light claims each slice (counting 12 per loaf) has but 160 calories and 4 grams of fat, which compared to brioche (have you ever READ the ingredient list?) is light indeed.  And without the cheese, this version is even better.  So all that butter I slathered all over the top of my slices is totally negated, right?  Right.....

Chorizo & Pepper Breakfast Tacos

Salsa eggs are not pretty eggs.

Do you remember the Bagel Bites commercials from back in the day?  "Pizza in the morning, pizza in the evening, pizza at suppertime..."  That infectious song never really ignited my fire for Bagel Bites, but it did perfectly describe my approach to foods like pizza - anytime is a good time for pizza.

I feel the same timelessness regarding many foods, especially around breakfast time.  You see, I have a problem with breakfast foods, namely those of the sweet variety.  When I wake up in the morning, the last thing I want is a big sugar bomb. Instead, I'm more likely to pull out leftover Chinese food and eat that for breakfast than to eat cereal (I like my cereal at night, in the dark).  Savory eggs and bacon always trump sweet baked goods and french toast platters. Something about sweet rolls and dishes just don't set my mornings off right.

Unlike many people who love eating "breakfast for dinner," my usual problem is fighting the urge to eat dinner for breakfast.  So the usual solution is to blend traditional non-breakfast foods into the early morning realm by including more expected breakfasty foods, like eggs. Remembering the tortillas I bought last week, and how much I enjoy Mickey D's breakfast burritos and picante sauce (don't judge...), the decision of what to have for breakfast practically made itself.

Shredded up some chihuahua cheese, browned some chorizo, chopped up peppers and onions, beat some eggs with salsa, and in only about 20 minutes we were ready to go.  A lesson learned, though:  beating salsa into the eggs before you cook them might speed up your rush to fill a morning's empty belly, but it isn't going to make your eggs look pretty.  So the recipe below is slightly altered to make the result a little more photo-worthy and visually enticing.  Me, I only listen to my belly, and it said these tasted good regardless of their blemishes.

The Southern - Chicago

The Southern.  Has the. Best. Fried. Chicken.  Let's let that sink in for just a few minutes.

I'm no expert on fried chicken - far, far from it.  I rarely eat it, and can probably count the number of times I've ever had it on both hands.  It wasn't a food we ever, ever ate growing up (although I spent a fair amount of time begging mom and dad for KFC buckets).  I've never had homemade fried chicken from anybody's home.  I've only ever had KFC, Popeyes, and Stanley's fried chicken (a Chicago bar serving up barrels of peanuts and Sunday "chicken and waffles" brunches).  My scope of fried chicken exposure is shockingly small.

Yet for weeks I've had this inexplicable craving for it.  A and I both have been "threatening" to pick up fried chicken buckets on the way home, and contemplating paying $16.95 for West Town Tavern's Monday night fried chicken special (a great neighborhood restaurant, by the way.  It's nice but not "fancy," inexpensive but not cheap, with a menu that's both familiar and inventive - and worth every cent.  Go.)

After going to a friend's father's wake yesterday, our group was in need of something to nourish our souls and bellies.  After a short debate of the many options along one arbitrary stretch of North Avenue (Uberstein, Lillie's Q, Piece) we settled on The Southern - "a central gathering place where the tallest order of the day is a cocktail, conversation, and relaxation."  It's been hyped (justly, we found) since opening earlier this year for its riffs on southern food, elevating the homestyle recipes without making anything seem fussy or fancy.  The rough-hewn wood tables, many fireplaces, and southern rock playing in the background reinforce this casual, at-home, comfortable vibe - but the food is much better than most home kitchens!

We started with the Southern Mess - a take on Poutine, made with hand-cut fries, smoked tasso ham gravy, and locally sourced cheddar cheese curds that had been broiled to a caramelized perfection.  This disappeared in rapid speed.  Fries covered in gravy and cheese - yeah, it's not hard to make something like that palatable, if not great.  But this is Grrrrrrrreat, sayeth Tony the Tiger.  The curds were not greasy at all, as blankets of cheese are wont to be, and the smoky, salty ham gravy was a nice taste and textural counterpoint to the chewy curds and crispy fries.

Usually, the Southern offers its fried chicken only as a reserve-in-advance, 6-person-or-more, part-of-a-family-style-dinner dish.  Except, as luck would have it, on Wednesdays, when since two weeks ago the Chef has been offering half a fried chicken, a homemade biscuit, and mushroom gravy as a $14 blue plate special ($3 Abita beers are also on special every Wednesday - score!)  When we learned this little fact, well, 2 or the 3 had their minds made up for them - it's fried chicken for dinner tonight.

According to our server, Chef Cary Taylor marinates the chicken in buttermilk and spices for two days before breading and frying the chicken.  And, much like the two-dip fry technique used to make the best french fries, he fries it once, cooks the chicken through in the oven, then returns the chicken to the fryer to crisp it up again before serving.  A unique process, no doubt, but would it be worth it?

In a word, yes.  Lest you think the three-fold technique would dry out the chicken, it didn't.  The perfectly cooked chicken was very moist, tender, and flavorful.  The crust and skin were unbelievable crispy, with a hint of spice.  Perhaps, just maybe, I wanted a bit more salt on the chicken.  But, then again, I want a bit more salt on just about everything, so let's chalk it up to a salty preference on my end.

Besides the great food, cheap beer, interesting cocktail menu (punch bowls - seriously?  I'm coming back just for one of those!) and inviting atmosphere (you could easily stay a long, long while), the service was pretty awesome.  Except for one 10-minute time frame where we never saw our server, he (and his bussers/runners) was mostly spot-on with recommendations, timing, filling empty drinks, bussing plates, and answering questions.  Above and beyond that, exec chef Cary was out and about the entire night, talking to every table multiple times and genuinely wanting to make sure everyone in his place was enjoying themselves.  Whereas sometimes I might find this intrusive, the people here just seemed friendly and, more importantly, invested in what they were doing.  Which was being awesome.

In a word, go to The Southern.  Say hi to Cary, too.

Garlic Yogurt Baked Chicken

Garlic Yogurt Baked Chicken with Braised Brussels Sprout

I always get taken in by these things, you know.  Oven fries, oven-fried chicken, baked onion rings, samosas, you name it.  If I see a recipe claiming to replicated fried food in an oven, it's like a instinctual switch goes off and I MUST TRY IT.

Even though I absolutely know, folks, that the oven cannot fry.  It cannot replicate the deep fry.  Sure, it can make some vaguely similar items, it can get pretty darn close (try Cook's Illustrated oven fries recipe and see how close they come) but, really, it always fails to be as indulgently crispy, greasy, and flavorful as its fried counterpart.

Now perhaps the "fried" part of the recipe title is like a marketing pitch - "hey, try me, I could be good." Because, had this recipe been called "Garlic Yogurt Baked Chicken" instead of "Oven Fried Chicken," perhaps my perception of it would have been different.  Then again, it came from the American Heart Association's low-sodium cookbook, so perhaps the demographic they're looking to attract is drawn to fried.

Thought you probably needed to see my dirty dishes.

None of the above ramblings should imply that this was a bad dish - in fact, it was really, really good.  It was easy - mix chicken with garlic & yogurt, roll in breadcrumbs, and bake.  The chicken stayed very moist, despite being cooked a smidge too long (the sprouts weren't done, damn it!).  The yogurt did a great job keeping the crumb coating attached, while I suspect helping the chicken stay juicy and tender, like soaking real fried chicken in buttermilk is said to do.  Loved the mellow garlic and big Old Bay flavors in the coating, too. Super easy, and super good.

But, folks, this ain't fried chicken.  Not even close.  Just don't go into it expecting KFC.

Hear me out for a minute here - Cooking Light had a recipe a year ago on the cover of the magazine for lightened-up Fried Chicken.  As in, fried in oil in a pan, honestly fried chicken.  Yes, you skin it, yes, you use not a lot of oil, but, dang it, it's fried.  I'm trying that next.  Until then, my belly is happy to stick to the oven. A recipe for you belly is after the JUMP.

Chicken A La King

As if it hasn't been very apparent, I have a strong bond with foods I ate growing up.  As do we all, I would argue, because they shape our current ideas about what food is and should be...but that's besides the point.  Sort of.  What is my point?  It would help.

Food we ate growing up, yes, this is what I was thinking about last night when staring at two different recipes. One, a new one that I'd had earmarked for a white--Orange Balsamic Chicken with Sage Pasta and Pecans. The other, Turkey A La King, an old familiar recipe that beckoned with memories of my childhood.  Although try new things is something I keep urging myself to do...I chose the familiar, the comforting, the known..something I do far too often.

And glad I did, mind you.  Although the new recipe looked intriguing and exotic, it had its faults.  First, a pasta side of little more than noodles, pasta water, sage and cheese.  Ho-hum (I'm not really a pasta fan in the first place).  Second, I didn't have pecans (not the biggest of deals, but still).  Third...it was a Rachael Ray recipe, and because of that I knew that something must be wrong with it, and lacked the energy to deal with finding that problem.   Quite honestly, I think I liked the way the picture looked more than what the recipe promised.

So old familiar it was, and it was good.

Wanna know what my dad used to call this dinner?  Sh*t on a shingle.  But don't let that fool you - it's not the least shitty.  It reminds me a bit and inside-out chicken pot pie, or those diner-riffic hot turkey sandwiches (minus mashed potatoes, but - hey - I bet this would be good over those too!).  Plus, it's a great way to use up leftover chicken or turkey, for instance after Thanksgiving, when this recipe is practically a godsend.

CHEX MIX, For Claire

Oy, listen here.  Miss Claire requested, and I'm here to deliver.  That most mystic of snack mixes, that wonder of cocktail parties, that favorite food of hyperbole-loving bloggers.....

CHEX MIX.

Yes, chex mix.  You know what it is, and you know you love it.  If you don't...well, then, we just can't be friends.  But how can't you?  It's salty, savory, garlicky, crunchy, full of all sorts of bad for you salty bits.  What's not to like?  Unless you're talking about the pre-made bagged chex mix, which is basically repulsive (although the cheddar jalepeno flavor looks strangely appealing...)

It's the little things that make a difference in the mix, and one of them is quite shocking:  I don't use chex in chex mix.  Not usually, anyway.  I prefer crispix.  THE HORROR.

Crispix to me are the best of both worlds, combining the wheat and corn in one crunchy bite.  But, I use chex sometimes (half the time), because I do like to mix corn and wheat chex together to have different bites, and it amplifies the amount of chex-to-other-stuff ratio - which is good when you live with chronic pickers, the people who seek out their favorites out of the bowl.  A high school friend once ate every single chex out of a bowl, leaving all the lonely cheerios, peanuts and pretzels behind.  I was enraged.  Why would you do such a thing?

Then, I thought, perhaps I'm the one being a touch overly dramatic about the whole situation.  It is, after all, just a snack mix.  But it's not.  It's so much more.  And it wasn't drama, folks.  It was WAR.

Anyway Chex Mix is just one of those universally appealing, ultra-simple, "what gourmands might turn their snooty noses up at but will still eat handfuls of repeatedly" foods. You probably all have an idea how to make it, too, since a variation on the recipe is on just about every Chex box out there.  Mine, I don't know if it's similar or different, cause it's just the way mom makes it, so it's the way I make it.

Make it often, and invite me over. Click the "more" link to learn, well, more.

Roasted Acorn Squash with Brown Sugar Glaze

This is barely a recipe.  It's just good.  

Roasted acorn squash with brown sugar glaze

Acorn squash are a great vegetable (actually, Cheeks, they're a fruit) to keep on hand in the fall/winter months.  Kept in a cool place, it keeps indefinitely (probably more like a month or maybe two) until you're ready to use it, or when you're simply in search of something to go on the side of something else. 


Is this helpful or what?


The hardest part of cooking acorn squash is - literally (I used it correctly this time, Yeshua) - cutting through the skin/shell/demon cover.  Since the squash is knobby, it doesn't lay flat on a cutting board, making the slicing process even more difficult - and potentially dangerous.  I thought my giant meat cleaver might come in handy, but it turns out even I'm smart enough not to hack at a roly-poly squash with a giant knife.  


No, the bread knife's long, serrated edge, and a fair bit of muscle, were the best way I found to saw through the tough, inedible skin.  Once you overcome this obstacle, though, a delicious bounty awaits you as fair reward.  Does anyone else have a better way to cut through them?  Because, I'm all ears...and clearly no expert. 

You have no idea how pretty you are, do you?

Squash is nice and versatile, with endless recipes available online to celebrate this fall fruit. But really, the easiest and most familiar way of all is simple: butter and brown sugar.  Oh yeah.  


Like I said, barely a recipe needed.  Quarter (or more) the squash.  Place skin side-down on a baking sheet.  Dot top with butter, sprinkle with brown sugar, S&P, and roast until done (about 40 minutes at 400 degrees). They're done when easily pierced with a fork.  Oh, and they're pretty.  

Fish Cakes, Fish Cakes...

I know, I know.  The name "Fish Cakes" doesn't exactly conjure up images of groundbreaking food, or even delicious food.  It's probably the word "cakes" in the title--it just implies a mishmash of ingredients, bound together in a questionable shape and served up without a though in the world.  Or those gross fish cake products found in Asian food, akin to a fishy baloney and often disconcertingly colored with pink food dye.  Either way, it's a vomit trigger (a term stolen from KOS - thanks!). Or maybe that's just me.  

But why is it so?  You hear "crab cake" and most people instantly start drooling (especially if they're those little tiny crab cakes they serve at cocktail parties, or a gigantic fresh crab cake from Faidley's in Baltimore--the world's best crab cake, in my book, and many thanks to JM for introducing them to me!).  Maybe foodies and other snobs out there are already turning their noses up, but I challenge them to honestly say they don't like crab cakes.  They're comforting, flavorful, and indulgent--both because of the main ingredient and the cooking method, which often involves a mayo and egg-laden binding as well as at least a pan-fry, if not a deep fry.  

Thing is, my budget doesn't include king crab legs as a line item.  So, like most people, I turn my thoughts and taste buds to other options when looking for a version to make at home.  Salmon patties were a common meal in my family, no doubt a holdover recipe from Grandma K. whose frugality is legendary.  Stretching a can of salmon to feel a family of six using saltine crackers as binder would surely have seemed genius to her.  And, frankly, they're easy, if very non-gourmet, and good. To this day I keep a can of King Salmon in my cupboard for those days when there's nothing in the fridge and just 30 minutes until dinner.

This is as far in the process I got with the camera. 

\The other day, seeking to bridge the gap between gourmet crab cakes and cupboard salmon patties, I turned to some tilapia fillets that needed a home.  IN MAH BELLEH.  (Actually, they didn't get into my belly, because good-wife-that-I-am I left them in th fridge for A to cook after I left for San Fran.  Hence, no photos of the finished product).  Use your imagination, or make some up yourself and see what you think. 

Chorizo Hash with Poached Eggs

Eye-shaped eggs courtesy of my egg cooker.  I cannot poach eggs, but I have lots of experience watching eggs explode into amoebas and octopi in simmering water. 

Hash is, perhaps, the easiest thing to cobble together in the half-eye-open hours of early weekend mornings.  Besides, of course, pouring a bowl of cereal or heading to the local bagel shop. Which are both fine options, I should add, for a weekday, when time is short and work is looming.  But when Saturday morning rolls around, why not shed the "rush rush rush" schedule of a work week and instead seize the lazy morning as your ample reward.  Celebrate this reward by taking the time to make a real meal for breakfast.

On the weekends, time becomes more amorphous, certainly more plentiful, and what seems daunting before work becomes a welcome task and way to welcome the two work-free days ahead.  For me, anyway.  Waking up Saturday in the early morning hours seems like gaining back time that was lost to desks, e-mails, faxes and other "have-tos" throughout the week.  Stretching our the limbs, starting the coffee pot, and grabbing a paper are weekend morning rituals designed to honor the laziness our busy bee butts earn the week through.

We didn't end up doing it, but wrapping this up in tortillas with chihuahua cheese would have been an awesome secondary taste exploration...

So just eating cereal seems a too quick way to begin my first work-free day.  Instead, it's the day for testing my patence, pulling out the cutting board, and savoring the few times a week where I'm awake and actually enjoying the morning.  Next comes the hard decision--savory or sweet?  A decadent, syrupy french toast, or a cheesy, hearty omelette?  Pull out the waffle maker or the bacon?  How do you choose between these equally delicious options?

You don't.  You take turns.  So the pumpkin waffles a few weeks back took sweet's turn, and today it was savory's chance to shine.  An omelette sounded too eggy, a breakfast burrito just a bit too...much.  Then, a light bulb went off...HASH!

Hash is perhaps the easiest thing in the world to make for breakfast.  Don't let an ill-advised, greasy bite of canned corned beef hash (served in second-rate diners the country over) turn you off from what hash can potentially be.  In its essence, it is simply potatoes, onions, peppers, and (if desired) meat sauteed together, and topped with a poached egg, the runny yolk of which coats the humble hash with a golden crown of rich, silky glory.  Plus, it give veggies and potatoes the starring roll, letting eggs have some free time too.

Corned beef hash aside, it's variable and adapts to whatever you may have in the pantry.  Just keep the potatoes and onions, and swap out the protein and veggies at will.  Several months back I made a fancy-pants version with asparagus and pancetta instead of peppers and corned beef.  I've been wanting to try a version with apples and bacon, and I think red peppers and salami would make a nice pair as well. This morning, though, a brand-new package of chorizo beckoned.  Mexican hash it was.

The cooking method is simple as well.  Dice everything pretty finely.  Brown the protein first, then reserve and wipe out the skillet.  Fry & steam the potatoes to give them a head start, then add the remaining veg and sautee until browned.  Throw the protein back in, toss together, season and serve. Easy peas.

Just ignore the shape of the poached eggs, which I cooked in my egg cooker.  Poaching eggs is a fancy chef's skill that I just don't have mastered.  An over-easy egg would be just as good, and a hell of a lot less fussy, if you don't have the world's awesomest egg cooker like me.