Tacos Al Pastor, Fake-Out Style

Remember that post where I said if you have rice noodles and pad thai sauce in your cupboard, you will always have a dinner on hand?  It was true.  But I forgot to mention one important thing.

Tacos.

Did you know that you can put lots of things in a tortilla?  Like…ANYTHING.  Veggies, beans, meat, it don’t matter.  Saute it all up with some spices, roll it up in a tortilla, and you have yourself tacos.  If you keep a package of flour tortillas in your fridge (and they keep for a surprisingly long time…thanks artificial preservatives!) then you’re already one step closer to dinner.  Corn tortillas are better, and more authentic, but they also have a very short shelf life.  If you're lucky enough to live in Chicago or any city with a strong Hispanic presence, though, you can buy still-warm corn tortillas in many an ethnic grocery store across the city.

The key here is not to think about Ortega and “gringo tacos” with lettuce, tomato, cheese, etc.  Sure, you can always go that route, but making an improve taco dinner requires a bit more imagination…more finesse.  Plus, you surely can make a better taco yourself with less meat and less salt than those ground-beef-and-giant-MSG-packet dinner kits.  

Tangerines floating in the marinade...

Or use the meat & spice kit, but think of add-ins to the meat and spice mixture to help "stretch" the filling (Or how one big chicken breast can be stretched to fill 10 tacos).  One of my favorite, not-quite-expected additions is diced potatoes.  Brown the meat, then cook the potatoes in the same skillet to crisp them up in all that luscious animal fat.  Black beans (or any beans, really) is a super simple addition too, and a great one at that.  And peppers, c'mon, peppers are basically begging to be added to tacos.  Have a leftover roast and veggies?  Chop it up, fry it up, season it up, and a traditional meal can become an exotic (OK, mexico is not exotic) feast.

Don't have the spice kit?  Seriously, you can use anything to flavor the mixture, and you probably need a whole lot less seasoning too, since you're adding in more flavor.  I prefer cooking up onions, meat, and veggies and then liberally seasoning with my handy stove-side spice drawer wide open - garlic, onion, oregano (the mexican kind is best), chili powder, hot sauce, etc. Give it a little moisture with, really, just about anything -  salsa or tomato/enchilada sauce is an easy fix; chicken stock will do. 

Really, though, what I usually do is marinate.  Marinate a bunch of chopped up meat for an hour, a day, however long, then quickly stir-fry it with whatever add-ins you please.  The marinade forms an automatic sauce for the meat and veggies.  You can even freeze the whole mixture of meat-in-marinade, then pull it out whenever the taco craving strikes.  And it will. 

See what I'm getting at here - a taco is nothing more than a blank palate for whatever you put insdie of it. And on top? Forget the American-style salad bar. In mexico, they top tacos with nothing more than onions and cilantro.  I never turn away a little cheese, and if Sour Cream must be had, try 2% greek yogurt - just as tangy and cool, and much better for you.  So you can have that third taco.   

These turned out very well - but very spicy!  Guess I need to watch myself when carelessly not de-membraning peppers.  You can really taste the smoky chipotle alongside the sweet citrus.  In a tortilla, they need little or nothing else, since the veggies are all cooked up in the skillet with them.  But a little sour cream never killed anyone.   

Snappy Joe, or Sucio Lucio?

I'm starting to like the Sucio Lucio

Snappy Joe, originally a recipe from mommie.  I LOVE the sandwiches, but yeah, the name of this easy-peas dish is the dumbest thing ever.  I’m sure it comes from a cutesy women’s magazine trying to cover up a fairly bland, “healthy” makeover of boring sloppy joes with a fancy new name, a snappy new name that looks great with the model’s stirrup pants, permed hair and caked-on blue eyeliner. SNAPPY.

Then again, I’m the one who made it the other night, so my sitting here making fun of it isn’t really helping my cause at all.  And sharing the fact that I spent 2 hours after dinner “crafting” homemade xmas cards doesn’t lend a lot of weight to the “I’m so cool” movement either. Cutting edge, I’m not, but at least I don’t have a perm.

Since A was supposed to be at a work event the night in question, I didn’t plan a dinner, figuring I could just eat leftovers or weird things I eat when nobody’s watching. (I’m not alone – check out these two books I really, really want to read.) 

With nothing planned, I went into safe mode, much like my archaic computer does when trying to run any program with a birthdate after 2007.  Spying a pound of sirloin and some random sausage buns in the freezer, and a recipe began to take shape.  Based on my mom’s “Snappy Joes,” a sillily named turkey and cabbage-based take on sloppy joes, I wanted to really snap these Joes up a bit.  Yeah, I’m going all out on this snappy theme. 

A few too many jalapenos in the fridge, some chorizo in the meat drawer, and an extra can of goya tomato sauce meant I was taking these Joes into spicy territory. (Somebody help me.  Why am I writing like this?)  I cut up a bunch of peppers, jalapenos, and onion, then sautéed them with ground sirloin.  AND I FORGOT THE CHORIZO.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.  Anyway, then you add in some tomato sauce, BBQ sauce, hot sauce, and some shredded cabbage, and let it simmer away for 10 minutes.  DONE. 

Rachael Ray, who probably would LOVE the name Snappy Joe, did a running series once where she took Sloppy all around the world.  She made Messy Giuseppes (Italian), Sloppy Cubanos (with pickles and swiss), and a few other versions.  I tried a couple, being an avowed Sloppy Joe fan (comfort, messy, sandwiches).  

I like this one the best.  Should we name it -- a Sucio Lucio, perhaps?  It’s easy, quick, and sneaks in a bunch more veggies than you would think.  It’s also awesome cold the next day, scooped hastily onto crackers or corn chips.  Not like I’ve ever done that, or anything.  Sloppy told me.

Smokey Corn & Cheddar Chowder

Oh, man.  You have no idea how good this is.  And I'm not even blaming copious quantities of butter and cream -because there aren't any!  Score one for the good guys.

Yes, it's not usually hard to figure out why people love creamy soups.  Chowders, Cream ofs, Bisques, you name it.  These beauties often get their richness from copious quantities of heavy cream, used to thicken up the broth or finish a blended soup or just make something so humble as mushrooms be elevated through the power of CREAM.  And who can blame chefs? If it's thickened with cream, you can bet it'll be a top seller.

Anyway, creamy soups can be really good - but also really, entirely, too rich.  Sometimes, following a "more is more" ethos that I usually espouse, cooks will just use tons of the stuff, leading to a heavy taste, where cream's fatty richness overpowers everything else.  Plus, although I'll occasionally yield to the desire for cream of asparagus or lobster bisque in a restaurant, it's a lot harder for me to justify buying a quart-size heavy cream if I have the urge to make creamy soup myself.

Which I did the other night.  What to do, what to do....

Um, milk?

But the problem is, milk’s relative leanness just can’t compensate for all that lost butterfat.  People try to blend their soups, but this usually (to me) results in an off-putting graininess.  Instead, I go a three-fold starch route, using the natural starches in flour, corn and potatoes to thicken the soup and trick you into thinking it’s really creamy.  And, add some of that butter fat back in, along with extra flavor, in the form of CHEESE.  Clever, am I.  Oh, yes.

First, you just have to use a good knob of butter (yeah, in addition to some of the bacon fat – but not much) plus flour to build a nice, golden roux.  This will give the initial soup a good deal of body.  If you’re using homemade stock, instead of broth (stock is made with bones, broth with meat), the stock’s collagen content will add a thicker “mouthfeel” and give the soup more body as well.  Next, cook potatoes and corn right in the pot.  These will let off starches that will further enrich and thicken the soup.  Finally, stir in a handful of cheddar cheese at the end.  Not only does it taste gooood, but it amps up the creamy factor with a lot fewer calories than cream itself.

People, this soup is good.  It’s based on Barefoot Contessa’s recipe, but I’m recounting my lower calorie (and scaled-down) version below. 

Alas, we were far too busy eating it to take any pictures, but trust me on this one – you want to make this. 

Turkey Cranberry Strudel

Operation use up thanksgiving leftovers, part three. 

Turkey.  What to do, what to do, with those giant chunks of leftover turkey.  The freezer is always an option, true.  Save it for either stock or broth, or even an upcoming soup.   I’ve been seeing a lot of recipes for turkey hash as a creative way to use up the meat after turkey sandwiches lose their appeal.  But as I’m apparently ahead of the hash-trend curve, and having already made up my other go-to leftover user (Turkey a la King), I needed fresh ideas.

Then, like a bright beacon of light, an image came to me…turkey, nuts, cranberries, all encased in a golden shell of….CRESCENT ROLLS!  Yes!  The much esteemed by sissy and me, deliciously kitschy Turkey Cranberry Ring my mom concocted long, long ago, based perhaps on a Papered Chef recipe, was calling to me.  It was then that I knew.  I must make it.  Now. 

It's a fairly simple idea.  Use crescent rolls as pre-made struedel dough, wrapping the rolls around a filling bursting with turkey, nuts, fruit, and a little bit of cheese (because, when does cheese ever hurt?).  You can use whatever is on hand, swapping in what you have and leaving out what you don't.  It's simple to assemble and looks like it took a lot more effort than it really did.  Perfect for a weeknight, or a buffet, or anytime.  

This seriously was an embarrassing combination of leftover bits n pieces we had laying around.  Four old pieces of pre-cut celery that had gone uneaten in the week’s lunches, a hardening handful of dried cranberries left in the bottom of a bag, some aging swiss cheese slices that had outlasted their sliced turkey companions.

But you know what?  You would never know that this delicious combination was anything other than a planned-out dish.  It tastes rich but isn't too unhealthy.  It stretches a lot of odds and ends into several meals worth of food.  Try it with broccoli and cheddar instead of cranberries and almonds.  Or peppers and pepper jack.  Or whatever you have on hand.  Probably due to my inexplicable love for crescent rolls, I bet that whatever you throw down the middle would be good.    

Because I’m cheap, I had saved the lone egg white left over from mixing a yolk into my Shepherd’s Pie potatoes.  That one lone egg white would now be brushed on the top of my log of cranberry goodness, helping it to brown up into a rich, golden, glistening shell.  A shell of love.  The most delicious shell in the world!!!!!!!!!

Really into the hyperbole today, it seems. But describing this odd, lovable recipe calls for a little bit of promotion.  It was a favorite growing up, and it's a favorite still. 

Shepherd’s Pie, or the Home for Leftover Potatoes

Operation use up thanksgiving leftovers, part two: Shepherd’s Pie.

I don’t love mashed potatoes.  They’re alright, I suppose.  When heavily laden with cream and butter and garlic and god knows what else, sure, they can be pretty damn good.  But the usual, more restrained, version just doesn’t do it for me.  I like potatoes plenty, but there are just so many better ways to enjoy them than all smashed up.

Thus, leftover mashed potatoes usually languish unloved in my fridge.  I’ve tried making potato cakes from them, or mixing in the loaded baked potato fixins and heating them up.  You can stir mashed potatoes into soups to thicken up the broth.  There are probably 500 ideas you all have on how to use them up.

Me, I could only think of one – shepherd’s pie.  I had never made one before, so that was a plus, as I’m trying to step outside of the same-6-recipes-I-make-over-and-over comfort zone. I had the basic ingredients on hand – ground beef, carrots, frozen peas, onions, and beef stock.  And I had a ton of mashed potatoes that would invariably be thrown away unless I could make them palatable again.  

A traditionally English dish, shepherd’s pie isn’t something I make, but it speaks to my simple, comforting sensibilities.  A pot-pie like filling on the bottom, browned and creamy potatoes on the top, it is a meal in one dish, and a cheap one at that.  Now that the temperatures are closer to zero than 100, it’s the sort of warm, homey winter-friendly food that I can’t get enough of. 

When "researching" different recipes, I came across this charming story about how shepard's pie got its name because the shepherd's wife would make the pie in the afternoon, but it would stay warm until whenever the shepherd returned home because the rich filling was insulated by the top crust. A good shepherd's pie would stay warm for hours, until the top crust was broken and the steam could escape.  Alton Brown advised cooks to start spreading the potatoes at the edges to be sure you get a good seal going. 

A word of caution, though.  Put a cookie sheet under your dish, especially if you aren't sure if you achieved the proper seal.  We didn't, and I soon heard telltale sizzling letting me know that boiled-over gravy was hitting the oven floor.  At least the smoke alarm didn't go off!  After resting for 10 minutes, we dug into this bad boy with gusto.  It's good.  Just, good.  Not breaking any boundaries, not challenging any traditions.  Just good.  

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.

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.

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.

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. 

Gramma's Skillet Macaroni

Just a quick post today.  No pictures, no step by step, no explanation (left my camera at work...).  No frills, that is to say, much like this recipe, in fact, one that came from my frugal, thrifty, exceptional grandma K.   This is one of those dishes everyone who grew up in the 60s, 70s, or 80s probably ate with some regularity.  It uses the commonest of ingredients - canned tomatoes, onion, ground beef, and dry elbow macaroni - to craft a round meal that can feed anywhere from 2 to 6 or more.

And, to be quite honest, most of the time it's not that good.  It certainly isn't gourmet.  But it feeds a deeper part of myself than my stomach.  It feeds my memory, my nostalgia, my need to remember that most of us have it really good right now.  I didn't make this dish because it was cheap, in addition to being filling and (somewhat) nutritious.  I didn't make it because it was all I could afford, or I was trying to feed a family on pennies a day.

I made it on a whim, when another whim might easily call for me to buy expensive, trucked-in seafood or excess amounts of meat.  I made it because I could, not because I had to.  But maybe doing things that we can all the time, simply because we can, isn't the most conscientious way to be.

We always called this "goulash" growing up, although I have no idea how it became connected in name to that Hungarian national dish it shares barely any kinship with (not even paprika, although I bet a hit of the smoked stuff would pep this American pantry meal up a lot).  It was a favorite meal of mine as a kid, and since I've been craving all sorts of nostalgic foods this week, I brought it back into the rotation.

It's really good in a very simple, hearty, stick to the ol' ribs (as IF I need any help in that department) sort of way.  Even A admitted, after stating how much his mom made somethings similar that he hated growing up, that this is much better.  I credit the extra strip of bacon, and my panicked last-minute additions, because it seemed thin and watery and not what I remembered.  And, only one pot was dirty at the end of the night--a feat in itself!

Garlic & Herb Roast Pork Roulade

Garlic & Herb Roast Pork Roulade with roasted acorn squash and cheddar-herb drop biscuits

I am not good at roasts.  Probably because I almost never cook them.  There is something slightly daunting about large roasts at the grocery store or butcher shop.  Big, cumbersome cuts of meat--the tough ones requiring long, slow braises (lest you end up with chewy, gristle-y meat), the tender ones needing a delicate touch and precise cooking to preserve their texture and avoid cooking them into oblivion.  

You know, all of what I typed up there could be totally wrong, excuses I've concocted in my head because - and I'm admitting it now - I'm scared of roasts!  I never cook them, and it's such a large piece of meat to make a mistake on.  A little pasta goes awry, you can throw it out and not lose more than a few cents in the process.  But a 3 pound hunk of meat?  You get that wrong, and you're eating it anyway.

Ingredients for the herb paste

To help conquer this fear, I started easy: Pork Loin.  I knew it would be tender, unlike the beefy pot roasts which need to be cooked long and slow to render the fat and dissolve the connective tissues, leaving the meat fork-tender and oh-so-flavorful, having been basted in fat and broth for hours.  Instead of a beef tenderloin, which can go from rare to overcooked in mere minutes, I knew pork just had to be cooked through, and my fancy instant-read meat thermometer could help me there.  

And, I had been inspired by a technique featured in a promotional Cook's Country magazine I got in the mail the other day.  Instead of flavoring the meat from the outside, a la spice rubs or marinating, go the other route and flavor from the inside.  FROM THE INSIDE!!!! OK, I'll stop.  AND I got to try a nifty new technique--butterflying the roast!  Most people would not be excited by this...but, people, my pleasures are different than most.  

Basically, it's easy enough.  To butterfly the roast (more detailed instructions are in the recipe), you make a long horizontal cut about 1/3 of the way up the roast, and almost through the roast, then open it like a book.  You do this again on the thicker side, and open the whole thing up flat.  You can flavor this big exposed surface, then roll it all up again and truss it back into roast formation.

All trussed up, and nowhere to go.

I ended up doing this step a day or so in advance, just cause I didn't know when I was going to cook it.  This really amped up the flavor party-- the smell of garlic when I unwrapped the roast yesterday was incredibly enticing, and the herby mustard flavors had permeated the meat. 

Perhaps, erring on the side of caution (and favoring a undercooked chicken/pork-phobic husband - a well deserved phobia), I may have cooked this bad boy about 10 minutes too long--it was a little drier than it deserved.  But flavor?  In spades.  And, truthfully, not too difficult at all to learn a new technique that, I'm sure, will come in very handy in the future.  

My favorite thing about the finished product is that it just felt so homey, so comforting, like the long lost tradition of the Sunday Dinner.  I served it with simple roasted acorn squash wedges and cheddar-herb biscuits (echoing the herbs in the pork) and it was a meal to remember - sharing a special moment and feeding life with ones you love.  Just as they all should be. 

Grilled Vegetable Salad with Creamy Feta Vinaigrette

I have this problem, one I'm trying to address.  I buy something from the market or grocer, needing it for a certain recipe or to satisfy a specific craving. And then, once that solitary need is met, I'm left wondering what to do with the remainder. 

For whatever reason, this seems to happen all the time with feta cheese.  There are only so many Greek Salad we can make before I get sick of that salty snack.  It's not a cheese I eat plain or on crackers, my go-to methods for getting rid of excess cheese (not really a chore...).  Sure, I blended it into the Turkey Artichoke Meatballs, giving them some extra richness and flavor.  I used some in the Tilapia Cakes that I'll soon share with you. 

The cast of characters

But, aside from random recipes or adding it to random salads, I struggle to think about what to do with the remainder of the package It’s a strongly flavored cheese, so a little goes a long way—even my heavy hand with cheese can’t put more than a tablespoon or so into a big salad.  Consequently, some always ends up, lost and forgotten, in the deli drawer of the fridge.

Some was languishing in the fridge the other day when I stumbled across The Bitten Word’s recipe for a Creamy Feta Vinaigrette.  AHA!  Don’t put the cheese in the salad, put it on the salad!  Or better yet, don’t put it on salad at all.  Use it to top fish, shrimp, chicken, grilled veggies, as a dip, or in any other vehicle you can find. 

I don’t know why this seemed so revolutionary, but it did.  I thought it would be a good, different way to introduce this salty, savory goodness into my life.  And it was.  Plus, it’s soooooo easy.  Not like when a chef says easy and you still use 10 pots and 20 techniques.  REAL easy, as in you throw a bunch of stuff into a blender and press the button.

Plus, serving it meant I got to use my cute little creamer for the first time, so I knew I’d be predisposed to like it.  And I did.  The vinegar really sets off the feta’s salty richness, the olive oil smoothes it out, and lots of dill and pepper

The prettiest still life I've ever seen...

Yes, dill—the recipe calls for oregano, but I had bunches of fresh dill, so you can guess why I used it.  And I didn't want just a simple lettuce bowl to showcase this dressing.  No, its bold flavors call for something much more robust.  I had a bunch yellow squash, some red onions, and some already roasted peppers from FIL's garden, so building a Grilled Vegetable Salad was a no-brainer.  It really, really worked.  The caramelized onions' sweetness balanced the salty richness; the squash's mild flavor was a perfect plate to showcase the creamy, sharp dressing.  Work in some protein somehow--grilled chicken, fish, or tofu--and this would easily become a hearty meal.  

Thus, my slightly modified recipe, as well as my recipe for grilled vegetable salad, after the JUMP. 

Are you going to San Francisco?

If my last hotel was “the hotel from the FUTURE,” this hotel is definitely a thing of the past.  And I say that is a fond, affectionate way.  While it’s not my personal style, as in I’m not gonna run out and get a four-poster bed for our little apartment bedroom, I appreciate the history of the place. 

Around since before the big ol’ earthquake, San Francisco’s Palace Hotel surely reflects a storied past of when this “City by the Bay” was, in some respects, still the wild west.  It feels old—again, in the best possible way—and reminds me of how much differently we see and experience life today than they did just 100 or even 50 years ago. 

Take, for instance, my shock at stepping off the elevator on the seventh floor and seeing a marble staircase across the foyer.  Stairs!  On the seventh floor!  Who would climb up that many flights?  Of course, everybody, if they were born before the elevators were installed.  Then I scoffed at the completely functional, non-ornate bathroom.  What?   No slick basin sink?  No iPod dock for shower tunes? No in-mirror TV screen? (Yes, I actually stayed in a hotel – for work – with one of these.  And I actually called to the front desk to get a replacement remote for my broken one, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to stay in a room with an in-mirror bathroom TV and not watch that thing every hour of the day.)

But then I remembered that the bathroom works. The ceilings are luxuriously high.  And the wingchair alongside the heavy wooden desk is just something you don’t see every day.  Sure, they’ve made some concessions to the changing times—a flat screen TV on the sideboard; a wireless connection; I suppose even the digital alarm clock next to the bed counts as a modern concession, although it sits upon an honest-to-god piece of furniture, not some slickly installed plasticine shelf. 

Really, would you want it another way?  It does us good to remember that what we take for granted are beyond luxuries; they’re unfathomable to those who came 25, 50, 100 years ago and slept in this very room.  Maybe I should spend more time thinking about those who came before me than how I’m going to best feed media into my brain today.  No, today I’ll do it the old fashioned way, with a book and a bath—kindle and Jacuzzi-free, of course.

And, lest I forget the point of this blog, this historic hotel has a foodie connection! As averred on its website, the Palace Hotel is the birthplace of green goddess dressing.  So when I landed tonight, half sick with a sinus cold and coming off 5 ½ hours in the air (DC to San Fran is not a short flight) I knew that room service once again would be my destiny.

My kind of cold medicine.

Chicken noodle soup—addressing the virus-y half of me—and veggie crudités with green goddess dressing—for my hungry, food-loving half. Chicken soup is chicken soup--it was good, darlings, but i just don't think it can be great.  Great for a cold, though.  The green goddess is unlike any other incarnation of the stuff I've ever come across--and, like the hotel, i mean that in the best possible way.  Tangy, thick, herby, it definitely leaves you wanting more, while being also much lighter on the taste buds than a heavy ranch or onion dip.  

Not going to eat it all, surely, but the wood-paneled mini-fridge hidden in the sidebar—a holdover from the 70s, surely—can contain the veg for snacking in the work-heavy days to come.  Bear with me, friends.  Like my turbulent flight…it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. 

Gotta sneak in a taste...mmm!

Although I do have some backlogged food porn on my flash drive with me, so don’t get too lonely.  Cheeks will keep you well fed.