Wait – don’t go. Hear me out.
Last week I made a resolution to use the food I have in my kitchen, rather than go shop for more, deciding what’s for dinner depending on my mood or the (near-constant) desire to try something new. I go for milk and eggs and come home with bags full of whatever was inspiring or on sale at the time, and then can hardly cram it into my cupboards and freezer. I think this is pretty typical, considering the fact that walk-in pantries and chest freezers are standard issue in most houses.
I hear a lot of people refer fondly to their fridges as that place produce goes to die. And it’s true – in North America (Canada very much included) it’s estimated that we throw out 40-50% of the food we buy. Half! Can you imagine the spending on groceries that takes place across the country on a daily basis? And that half of those purchases are tossed out? (Or composted, but still.) Besides the actual food waste, consider how much time and energy went into growing or producing all that food, transporting it, stocking shelves, even driving to the store to buy it. And it winds up tossed. A study last year estimated the annual cost to be $27.7 billion. Billion! That pipeline project everyone is talking about costs a measly $7 billion in comparison.
Alright, I’ll get to the point. Didn’t mean to get all preachy.
So what do you do when someone brings over a hunk of caraway Gouda so big it’ll keep you in cheese and crackers for a month? And you can’t do grilled cheese because of your six year old’s reaction to little bits in his cheese? You turn to the all-knowing intra-net and search for something to make with caraway and cheese in it. You go to Epicurious and punch in “Gouda” and “caraway”. If you’re lucky, something will pop up that makes use of that enormous bag of coleslaw you bought with the best intentions.
To make this quiche you cook a few slices of chopped bacon with an onion, and when the bacon is crisp and its fat rendered, you throw in a few handfuls of cabbage and cook it down. (A great use of bagged coleslaw – especially the last of the bag, which tends to get wilty.) When I did this, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world – like a fantastic warm bacon slaw. But as it cooked down it became more dense, as cooked vegetables do, and it made a great filling. Especially with the odd thin shard of carrot and purple cabbage – colour is always a good thing.
So yes, a cabbage and caraway quiche is an entirely unlikely thing to ever come out of my oven – but at the same time, MacGyvering my way through dinner pushed me out of my comfort zone, and the results were totally delicious. So good, in fact, that I made one of these a week ago, and then another this morning for my sister’s birthday brunch. The reaction around the table? “What’s in this? It’s delicious!” It wasn’t as easily identifiable as your typical ham & cheese or spinach quiche.
But you know how everything you make just sort of tastes like everything else you make? That you have your spice roster and don’t often edge out beyond it? Caraway is not typically a part of my culinary palette. It’s a fine spice, I have nothing against it, I just don’t really use it. I don’t think I could even locate any among the vast number of small jars and baggies that make up my spread-out spice non-rack. But with the creamy cheese and smoky bacon, it totally worked.
I’m not a quiche maker. But frittata tends to be my fall-back leftovers-user, and they aren’t much different. I contemplated skipping the crust, but then recalled how much I love a good wedge of quiche in a restaurant, and I went for it. I do love a good pie crust, and that you can get away with a slightly softer, more velvety filling when you’re not relying on it to hold its own.
Gouda, Coleslaw & Caraway Quiche
I swapped caraway Gouda for the gruyere and caraway seed in the recipe – you could of course do either. Adapted from Bon Appétit, December 1990.
4 bacon slices, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
2-3 cups coleslaw or shredded green cabbage
3 large eggs
1 cup half & half or milk
1 cup grated Gouda or Gruyère cheese (or more, if you like – just wing it)
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds (optional)
salt & pepper
1 9″ deep-dish pie crust
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line your pastry crust with foil and pie weights (if you have them) and bake for 15-20 minutes, until pale golden. Remove the foil and weights and turn the oven up to 375°F.
Meanwhile, cook the bacon in a large heavy skillet over medium heat, add onion and cook until the bacon is crisp and the onion is tender. Add the coleslaw and cook until it wilts and all excess moisture evaporates, 10-15 minutes
In a medium bowl whisk together the eggs, half & half, cheese, caraway seed (if you’re using it) salt and pepper. Spread the cabbage mixture into the crust and pour the egg mixture overtop. Bake until filling puffs and starts to brown, about 40 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Serves 8-10.
January 22 2012 | eggs and one dish | 16 Comments »
I love butter chicken. In fact, I don’t know of many people who don’t. It’s the sort of lunch or dinner or midnight snack that’s happiness-inducing. There are few foods I really crave anymore, but butter chicken is one of them. Sometimes give in and go fulfill my desires an east Indian lunch buffet where I almost always shame myself on the stuff, with fresh naan.
Contrary to its name, butter chicken doesn’t generally contain actual butter. Heavy cream, yes. It’s rich and wonderful and velvety, but not typically buttery. I made a batch recently, in response to a Facebook request to lighten a recipe that had – gasp – 1 cup of butter and 3 cups of whipping cream! This time, rather than overthink things or turn to my (still totally disorganized) bookshelf or laptop in search of what (some may claim as) the ultimate recipe, I just did it.
Onions and chicken and tomatoes and spices – I might have been making cacciatore if it weren’t for the curry paste and splash of cream at the end. It was easy. And fast. And used up ingredients I usually have in the freezer and pantry. And made just enough to feed everyone, which is a far better idea than the bottomless steam insert of the buffet.
And when I said we were having butter chicken for dinner, there was a lot of grinning and maybe even some jumping up and down. I may do this again sometime.
And next time, make a batch of fresh naan to go with. Think of the glee!
Butter Chicken
canola or olive oil, for cooking
1 onion, halved and thinly sliced
6-8 skinless chicken thighs (with or without bone)
4-5 garlic cloves, crushed
1 Tbsp. grated fresh ginger
1 28 oz. (796 mL) can diced tomatoes, undrained
2 Tbsp. tomato paste
1-2 Tbsp. chili powder
2 tsp. curry paste or powder
1-2 tsp. garam masala (optional)
pinch cinnamon
1/2-1 cup half & half or whipping cream
salt and pepper
steamed rice, for serving
In a large, heavy skillet, heat a drizzle of oil over medium-high heat. Add the onions and saute for 5 minutes, until soft. Add the chicken thighs, pushing the onions out of the way, and brown them a bit on all sides – don’t worry about cooking them through. Add the garlic and ginger and cook for another minute or two.
Add the can of tomatoes, the tomato paste, chili powder, curry paste, garam masala and cinnamon and bring to a simmer. Cover and cook for 20 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through. Remove the lid and cook until the mixture thickens and looks more saucy and uniform.
Stir in the cream, season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve hot over rice. Serves 4-6.
January 19 2012 | chicken & turkey | 18 Comments »
It was -33 today. I can think of no better argument for bringing out the slow cooker.
Wait – there was a better reason. Kelsey and Phoebe and Cara (from Big Girls Small Kitchen – who’s new cookbook I became smitten with in early December when I was bedridden with a wrecked back) asked me to be a part of their slow-cooker love-in. It’s cold, and I love slow cooked food. Why not?
They’re giving away some slow cookers too, if you want to get in on the action. They’re also swapping ideas and links and pins and such, if you’re looking for slow cookin’ inspiration, which if my inbox is any indication, a lot of people are.
I must keep this short – have a story due today, which technically ends at midnight, right?
There are so many possibilities when it comes to slow cookers. So many cool things to make, but I couldn’t see past a bowl of baked beans. These are thick and sweet and tangy and everything baked beans should be, plus the beer. (As Sue puts it – feel free to swap apple juice or stock if there’s no beer in the fridge, or other members of the household protest its use this way.)
Guinness Baked Beans
a few slices of bacon, chopped (optional)
2 onions, finely chopped
2 19 oz (540 mL) cans red kidney beans, drained
2 19 oz (540 mL) cans white kidney or navy beans, drained
3/4 cup ketchup
3/4 cup barbecue sauce
1 bottle Guinness, or 1 1/4 cups beef or chicken stock or apple juice
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup Dijon, yellow, or grainy mustard
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 Tbsp. molasses
salt and pepper, to taste
a few shakes of Tabasco sauce (optional)
In a heavy skillet, cook the bacon until crisp. Remove it from the pan, crumble and set aside. Sauté the onion in the bacon drippings (or dump them and replace with a drizzle of oil) for about 5 minutes, until tender and beginning to turn golden.
Transfer the onions to the bowl of a slow cooker and add the beans, ketchup, barbecue sauce, Guinness, brown sugar, mustard, vinegar, molasses, and a hit of salt and pepper. Cook on low for 6-8 hours.
Stir the bacon back into the beans right before you serve them. Makes lots.
Look who else has come to play!
FN Dish (The Food Network Blog)
Food52
The Family Dinner
Foodily
Punchfork
The Daily Meal
College Candy
Her Campus
College Lifestyles
Life2PointOh
One Bite At A Time
Mrs. Wheelbarrow
Savor the Thyme
Babble
Momtastic
Families in the Loop
NY Family Magazine
One Hungry Mama
CafeMom
Simple Bites
Gluten is my Bitch
Cookin’ Canuck
Food for my Family
Eclectic Recipes
Family Fresh Cooking
Talk Nerdy to Me
The Kids Cook Monday
Early Twenties
January 16 2012 | beans and slow cooker and vegetarian | 16 Comments »
In a perfect world, I’d spend every day playing in the kitchen, experimenting with new ingredients and cuisines, making stuff and posting it here. OK, there would likely be a few other things involved in my perfect world, but wouldn’t that be swell? In the real world, as in other peoples’ worlds (and the opposite of so many others’ worlds), some days I find myself at IKEA looking for a new desk chair, because the stuffing on my old one has somehow worked its way to the outside of the upholstery. And on this particular day, having tried to reel in my appetite, I was starving at said IKEA visit, and thus cranky, and impatient in the as-is section, and then in line, and by the end of it there was no time to go get Swedish meatballs. But it occurred to me that IKEA doesn’t actually have a monopoly on Swedish meatballs.
And if I put my mind to it, I might be able to make them my very own self.
This is the kind of revelation I’d love to dedicate my working life to. Making meatballs, and passing them on. That’s a worthy pursuit, isn’t it?
So here’s the Secret of the Swedish Meatball: you don’t really need a formula. Whether you start with frozen meatballs or make them yourself. (I generally don’t bother with unnecessary binders – like egg – or ingredients like breadcrumbs that were initially added to stretch pricey beef – but it doesn’t matter at all what you add – just do what you like.) Adding a pinch of allspice and/or nutmeg will give them that distinctive Swedish flavour. And if you cook them in a heavy skillet on the stovetop, you’ll create lovely crispy dark bits in the bottom of pan, exactly the kind that make for wonderful gravy.
To recap, you make gravy by shaking flour into fat in a pan – fat + flour won’t get lumpy – then whisking in liquid, like stock or wine. It will bubble and thicken, and turn into gravy. You can add more stock if it’s too thick, or a big glop of sour cream to creamify – spellcheck says that’s not a word, but I contend that it is – the gravy into something like what you get on those deliriously good Swedish meatballs. (If you use low fat sour cream, turn down the heat. Be gentle, or it could separate.) You can totally do this, and wing it even.
If you need a recipe, here you go:
Swedish Meatballs
Adapted from Cookie, October 2008. If you want to streamline things, start by gently shaping pure ground beef into balls, straight out of the package – don’t bother mixing anything in.
1 lb. lean ground beef
1 small onion, coarsely grated
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
1 egg
1/4 tsp. allspice and/or nutmeg (optional)
salt and pepper
2 Tbsp. butter (optional)
1 Tbsp. flour
1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup sour cream
Lingonberry or cranberry sauce (optional)
In a medium bowl, gently combine the beef, onion, breadcrumbs, egg, spices and salt and pepper with your hands, and shape it into 1-inch balls.
In a drizzle of oil in a heavy (cast iron is great) skillet set over medium-high heat, cook the meatballs, rolling them around as you need to, until deep golden and crusty and cooked through. With a slotted spoon, transfer them to a bowl and set aside.
Drain the excess fat from the pan, leaving about a tablespoon. Add the butter (if you like, or just leave the drippings in the pan) and the flour, and whisk to combine. Add the stock and stir, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan, until the mixture boils and thickens. Whisk in the sour cream and stir until it has the texture of creamy gravy. This whole process will only take a few minutes.
Return the meatballs to the pan and roll them around to coat. Serve with cranberry or lingonberry sauce. Serves 4-6.
January 13 2012 | beef | 15 Comments »
It’s a good day when you get to spend most of it in your PJ pants – until you have to upgrade to yoga pants to go pick up the kid from school, anyway – and in the middle of it someone drops by with a few pastries and a couple loaves of still-warm bread.
I didn’t have any butter. But – tragedy averted: I had about a cup of cream. Making butter really isn’t a biggie, and yet although it’s been on my radar since we took turns shaking up that little container of whipping cream in elementary school, passing it from kid to kid until it transformed into butter (that really could be an analogy for a lot of things, couldn’t it?) I rarely do it myself. If I’m out of butter, I run to the corner store, or send Mike, or put it on the shopping list. I don’t think to make it, but it couldn’t be easier. Or better. (Then again, I rarely have heavy cream in the fridge either. Maybe I’ll start to? Heavy cream meaning 35% whipping cream, the heaviest commonly available.)
It would be worth getting into the habit of making butter for my own use (apart from baking, I mean – I’ll share it with the boys) – after all, if I’m going to eat butter, it may as well be the good stuff. Think homemade chocolate chip cookies vs the bagged kind.
Have you seen the cost of high-end butter? To buy a pint of cream and make your own is a steal.
As I was saying, it’s no biggie – I was working in the kitchen anyway, and so poured the cream into the bowl of the stand mixer, covered the top with plastic wrap (it gets splattery) and turned it on. That’s about it. It’ll churn away, first turning into whipped cream, then something stiffer than whipped cream, and then suddenly you’ll hear it get wet and splashy as it separates into butter and thin buttermilk. (This is why I like using plastic wrap rather than a tea towel – not only can you seal the edges, you can see through it to see how the cream is changing, and hear when the butter separates from the buttermilk and splashes on the plastic film.) That’s it.
You’ll wind up with pure butter that looks like a wad of moulding clay – simply pull it out and put it in a crock, or dish, or jar. It will be a perfect spreading texture. Yes, that’s glittery purple nail polish.
You could add salt to it of course, before or after. Or try spreading your bread with sweet butter and sprinkling it with a pinch of coarse salt. Heaven. Especially when it’s -11 outside and you’re still in your PJ pants.
January 11 2012 | preserves | 29 Comments »
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