Kung Pow! Chicken

Kung-Pao-FinalAs they say, “when the cat’s away, the mice will play.”  Though I’m not sure it’s the perfect analogy, I must say I did feel a rush of culinary freedom when I found out I was going to have a weekend in the kitchen without my husband around.  Of course, of course, I miss him terribly.  However, the thought of being able to cook any combination of fish, vegetables, or ethnic food I can dream up is nearly intoxicating.

I took RJ’s absence as an opportunity to tackle a second book in my cookbook challenge, and I picked one I knew he wouldn’t enjoy – Spices of Life: Simple and Delicious Recipes for Great Health by Nina Simonds.  While many of the books in my cookbook collection were gifts, and even more were bookstore (or Costco) purchases, this one has more of a story.  I currently work at an art museum and design programming to attract new members and donors.  Last spring, I invited Nina Simonds to speak at the museum for a lecture and luncheon event.  I used her appearance as an excuse to purchase her most recent cookbook, Spices of Life — for research of course!

She brought with her baskets and baskets of spices — assorted seed pods, gigantic rolled cinnamon sticks, peppercorns of all colors.  The guests at the museum loved being able to handle each of these, and breathe in the varied aromas, both familiar and exotic.  While some of us are more adventurous than others when it comes to spices and strange flavors, few of us can describe the plant that produces sesame seeds, or have handled all of the different components of a garam masala.  It was a true treat to have Nina, such a well-traveled food writer and cook, share these things with us.

Nina’s approach to cooking emphasizes the use of healthful ingredients and she describes throughout the book the restorative powers of specific herbs, vegetables and spices.  The concept is a great one — incorporate these health-giving (not to mention delicious!) ingredients into your cooking on a regular basis, and improve your body’s form and function.  Nina’s other website actually supplies a great list of spices and produce items along with their nutrients and perceived healthful properties, though the book is far more comprehensive.

I quickly realized that working with this book was going to take a bit of pantry makeover.  Ingredients such as rice wine vinegar, mirin, and oyster sauce are not part of my everyday mise en place, but I am always happy to expand!  The first recipe I tried was Kung Pao Chicken, served alongside her Asparagus with Cardamom Butter.  The prep work for the chicken was pretty intensive, but I attribute that primarily to my unfamiliarity with the ingredients.  When I get to the point of ‘a splash here’, ‘a handful of that’, ‘a dash of this’, I think that I can minimize my time spent and the amount of measuring cups and tablespoons I dirty up!  I also think there’s a more efficient method for making the marinade and sauce mixtures, since they are quite similar at the base.

I really liked the comforting Asian flavors of the chicken dish – the salty soy sauce, spicy ginger, and nutty sesame oil mingled together nicely – but the texture was the most fun.  Between the tender bites of chicken, the light snap of the water chestnuts, and the firm crunch of the peanuts, this recipe provided really exciting variety and no two bites were the same.  I also thought it was great that the whole scallion was used (I hate ditching the green tops), especially since the onion provided a nice contrast, both visually and flavor-wise, to the rich brown sauce.  This recipe is definitely worth a try!

As for the asparagus…  I am glad to know that by including the cardamom my digestive system is better off and my ‘spasms’ may now be under control, but the flavor just wasn’t for me.  Give me lemon juice, parmesan cheese, or balsamic vinegar any day — the cardamom was just too out there.  I am sure I could get used to it, of course, but I think that unless I need to quell a bout of belching, I will stick to what I love.

Kung Pao Chicken, slightly adapted from Nina Simonds’ Spices of Life

(Serves 6)

12 ounces skinless chicken breast

Marinade:kung-pao-mise
2 Tbs. light soy sauce
2 Tbs. Shaoxing rice wine
1 tsp. roasted sesame oil
2 tsp. cornstarch

3/4 cup peeled water chestnuts
2 Tbs. oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
3/4 c. unsalted peanuts, dry roasted
1 spring onion (scallion), finely chopped white parts, green parts chopped into 1 inch pieces
1 tablespoon finely chopped ginger
1/4 to 1 teaspoon red chili flakes (to taste)

Sauce (mixed together):
1 Tbs. soy sauce
1 Tbs. rice wine
1 tsp. roasted sesame oil
1 tsp. cornstarch
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup chicken stock

kung-pao-sauteDirections:

Cut the chicken into 1 inch cubes. Mix together the marinade ingredients, and place the cubes in a bowl; toss lightly. Marinate in the fridge for at least 20 minutes. Blanch the water chestnuts in a pan of boiling water, then refresh in cold water. Drain, pat dry, and cut into thick slices.

Heat a wok over high heat, add 1 tablespoon of the oil, and heat until very hot. Stir-fry half the chicken pieces, turning constantly, until the meat is cooked. Remove with a wire sieve or slotted spoon and drain in a colander. Repeat with 1 tablespoon of oil and the remaining chicken. Wipe out the pan.

Reheat the wok over high heat, add the remaining oil, and heat until very hot. Stir-fry the spring onion white parts, ginger, garlic, and the chili flakes for 10 seconds, or until fragrant. Add the sliced water chestnuts and stir-fry for 15 seconds, or until heated through. Pour in the mixed-together sauce ingredients and scallion greens and simmer until thickened. Add the cooked chicken and the peanuts. Toss lightly to coat with the sauce and serve over rice.

kung-pao-mixed-good

Evening with Le Cordon Bleu

Rabbit Stew

After my quasi-review of Kathleen Flinn’s The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry, I thought that I would be remiss if I didn’t at least try one of the recipes included at the end of every chapter in the book.  What review could be complete without an attempt to walk in Kathleen’s footsteps and master a dish from her famed alma mater?

I decided to try the most Cordon Bleu-y dish in the book — Lapin a la Moutard, a.k.a. Rabbit in Mustard Sauce.  Not something found in the average home cook’s repertoire, rabbit is nevertheless quite easy to work with.  It has been compared in flavor to dark-meat chicken, but I find that it is far less greasy than a drumstick or thigh tends to be.  The rabbit I purchased at my local grocery store (I know – can you believe it?) was skinned, gutted and beheaded, but otherwise whole.

rabbit-carcass

I invited my two most adventurous fellow chefs/dining companions — my mother and grandmother — to help me prepare and eat the little beast.  We began with butchering, which wasn’t really so hard — again, much like chicken — except for the fact that I didn’t really know what to do after I had separated off the legs.  Was the breast/torso supposed to be left whole?  The meat there was pretty thin, so I didn’t want to take it off the bone…  I could have used one of my reference manuals — The Joy of Cooking, The Way to Cook, Jacques Pepin’s Techniques — which may or may not have given me a diagram to follow, but I ended up winging it.  The result looked a lot like what Elise came up with here, so I feel pretty good about it!

rabbit-butchered

After all was said and done, the rabbit was served and deemed…DELICIOUS.  The dominant flavor of the mustard was mellowed perfectly by the addition of a splash of cream.  I neglected to strain the solids out of the sauce, as directed, but the minced shallots and garlic added to the texture of the dish.  If you are going for a more refined-looking plate, though, just follow the recipe.  Though only a 1/4 cup of sauce was left over after we’d eaten our fill, the family matriarchs forced me to save it in a plastic container since it was so good and “could be used to enhance another sauce.”

After eating this dish, my estimation of Flinn’s book has certainly risen.  I’m glad to have a good go-to rabbit recipe for the evenings when my husband’s away and the girls are in town!

Lapin (ou Poulet – chicken may be substituted for the faint of heart) a la Moutarde, from The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry
Serves 6

2 1/2 lbs. rabbit pieces or chicken thighs
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
1 Tbs. dried thyme
All-purpose flour
3 Tbs. olive oil
4 Tbs. + 2 Tbs. Dijon mustard, separated
1 Tbs. butter
3 shallots, finely chopped (about 1/4 cup)
1 large onion, finely chopped (about 1/4 cup)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/3 cup brandy (we substituted sherry)
2/3 cup chicken stock
Bouquet garni (parsley, bay leaf tied with twine)
4-5 sprigs fresh rosemary or 1 tsp. dried
2/3 cup heavy cream (optional – I used about 1/3 cup)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Sprinkle the meat with salt, pepper, and dried thyme. Dredge lightly in flour, shaking off excess. In a Dutch oven large enough to hold all the ingredients comfortably, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Brown pieces on all sides, in batches if necessary. Remove meat from the pan and drain the oil. Using a pastry brush or the back of a spoon, apply a generous coat of mustard to each piece; set aside.

rabbit-mustard

Over medium heat in the same pan, melt the butter. Add the shallots and onions and cook until translucent. Stir in garlic. Add the brandy and chicken stock, and simmer until slightly reduced. Add the bouquet garni and rosemary. Return the chicken or rabbit pieces to the pan. Cover and cook in the oven for about forty-five minutes, or until an instant-read thermometer reads 160 degrees F. Remove the meat and cover loosely with foil to keep warm.

rabbit-stew

Put the pan on medium heat and bring the pan juices to a simmer for about five minutes, until slightly reduced, skimming off any fat from the surface. (Rabbit is oilier than chicken and will require significant skimming.) Add the remaining two tablespoons of mustard and the cream (if using) and let simmer for seven to ten minutes, until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon.

Once it has thickened, pour sauce through a fine-meshed sieve, pressing it through with a spatula. Check seasonings and adjust, adding salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the sauce over the chicken or rabbit pieces.

rabbit-final

Happy Mother’s Day

brunch-buffetIn my experience, Mother’s Day has always included some sort of breakfast celebration – a fancy brunch in the city, a decadent spread at home, and usually a mimosa or two.  I don’t know why we associate Mother’s Day with breakfasts — perhaps because it falls always on a Sunday, or because we want to celebrate our mother first thing in the morning.  Maybe it is because on regular mornings she is usually the first one awake, making everyone’s coffee and eggs, and on this special day we want to beat her to the punch and treat her for a change.

Whatever the reason, we continued the tradition this past Mother’s Day with a multi-course buffet of savory and sweet breakfast treats.  My brother Alex, his girlfriend Claire, and I went all out, riffing on some recipes and meticulously following some others.  The menu, which was fabulous from start to finish, included: 

Strawberry and blackberry salad which I coated with a minted simple syrup (mix 1 part water to 1 part sugar in a small saucepan.  Stir over low heat until sugar is dissolved.  Add mint leaves to taste and puree in a blender until smooth) and garnished with a mint chiffonade;

minted berry salad

These savory scones, which I split and filled with chive creme fraiche and smoked salmon;

salmon

These sweet scones, made with orange zest and dried cranberries;

scone-basketProsciutto-wrapped and parmesan-coated roasted asparagus spears;

prosciutto

and Mini Leek, Mushroom and Bacon Quiches, a slight variation on this Smitten Kitchen recipe, made in muffin tins.  I would recommend any and all of the above dishes — they were all fabulous!

I thought the spread looked excessive for only 5 people, but all we had left were 2 asparagus spears, 3 mini quiches and a couple of cranberry scones.  I think I left my mom sated until next year…

Tongue in Cheek…Musings on Literary Food Porn

Radishes

One of my best friends once dated a guy who claimed to read his pornography.  I don’t mean he **air quotes** purchased Playboys for the articles, I mean that he didn’t care for erotic pictures; he found lusty stories and written accounts to have a greater appeal and, er, effect.  The peccadillos of a true intellectual I suppose…

Until this past week I would have denied that the same preference was possible for a lover of food porn – that aside from the real thing nothing could make the mouth water more than a gorgeously styled gourmet photograph.  Of course, I’m not the first to repeat the wisdom that we taste with our eyes first.  The sight of a deep crimson strawberry, plump and glistening with morning dew can evoke the sumptuous sweetness of the fruit before it even hits the tongue, and increase the anticipation all the more.  Websites such as FoodGawker and Photo Grazing cater to the needs of the average degenerate foodie — offering a harmless fix (It’s just looking!) to get him through the day until he gets home to his own dinner.

Brussels sprouts

Yet this week I have discovered literary food porn and damn, it is gooood…  Erica Bauermeister’s The School of Essential Ingredients is my first indulgence (and you never forget your first, I’m told).  This novel, the author’s debut, is exceptionally crafted.  Bauermeister sculpts each character with rich language and heartfelt empathy, revealing them slowly through their most intimate histories – an elderly couple’s crisis of infidelity and eventual reparation, a young man’s heartbreak over the death of his wife, a new mother’s conflicted self-perception – and then bringing them all together around the counter at the cooking school named in the title.

I find this book nearly impossible to put down.  The stories are intriguing and deeply sincere, and the writing is decadent.  Certain passages have completely blown me away, particularly the lush descriptions of food and the simple but profound metaphors the author composes to explain her characters’ emotional strife.  At one point she writes, after a series of insults from a contemptuous, critical boyfriend: “Chloe felt sometimes that he was tying her up with string, into a small ball that he could throw far, far away from him.”  I cannot tell if you will read that and find it as apt and poignant as I did, or if it will mean nothing without reading the context, but I see that as further evidence of how engrossing the narration really is.  The words are not indulgent literary flourish – they are the story.

tomatoes

I contrast my experience with this book to my reading of The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry: Love, Laughter, and Tears in Paris at the World’s Most Famous Cooking School, a memoir by Kathleen Flinn.  Also about a cooking school, specifically Le Cordon Bleu, Flinn’s writing lacks all of the elegance and expert pacing of Bauermeister’s.  Admittedly, Flinn is a trained journalist and is writing non-fiction.  Nevertheless, the reader could have been, but is not, transported by her book.  I don’t fall in love with her husband-to-be along with her.  I do not feel her frustration or her intense determination — I just hear it.  Does that make sense?  I recall the most basic lesson of college-level creative (and academic) writing — Show Don’t Tell.  Flinn’s book was more of a telling.  As one reviewer put it, “It’s all matter of fact: this happened, she had this amazing experience, she lived this dream, wouldn’t you like to read about it?”  Sure, I guess.

French spice marketThis is not to say I didn’t enjoy the book at all.  I did.  As did many other bloggers and critics.  The thought of dropping everything (or having everything dropped for you and against your will, as in Flinn’s personal story) to go to live in Paris and attend cooking school full time is quite enticing for me!  Plus, the book is riddled with funny stories and some great recipes I cannot wait to try.  I am just saying that I didn’t read The Sharper Your Knife with the same kind of hunger that I did The School of Essential Ingredients.  One review on Amazon.com of the latter book reads, “My main complaint is that there isn’t enough of it. It’s a very short book and feels highly polished, every line labored over until it gleams…but there’s just not enough of them.”  You certainly leave The School of Essential Ingredients wanting more… much like the first course of a fantastic meal.  I cannot wait to see what Erica Bauermeister comes out with next.  Consider your appetites whet!