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.

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.  

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.