Taking Sides

Many Thanksgivings are often determined by the work done Thanksgiving eve.  Kristen was hard at work the night before, as usual. Last year was the first year we celebrated by ourselves.  The end result was more food than two people could possibly eat in a month.  It was delicious, but too much.  This year we were fortunate enough to be invited to celebrate with friends who, like us, are expatriates of the Midwest.  Our duty was to take sides.

While she was busy making sides, I was busy watching a young know-nothing from Reseda take on the venomous Cobra Kai. I was reminded of the special bond between a student and his sensei, not so different than what happens when Kristen and I are in the kitchen.  I feel like she is teaching me like Mr. Miyagi.  She demonstrates the same amount of patience when I, like the cocky young LaRusso, pop in to screw up the harmony in the kitchen.   Only now did I realize that the motion of scrubbing pans is conditioning me to stir pots.  Hopefully I’ll soon be able to catch a fly with chopsticks.

Miyagi says this about taking sides, “Walk left side, safe. Walk right side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later get squish just like grape.”

It began with yeast rolls.  According to Kristen, I’m a carboholic.  If that’s the case, then these rolls by themselves are what will knock me off the wagon every time.  The beginning of the process is like mad science.  First, she has to warm two cups of water, her primordial preparations. I study her process and see that she is using the thermometer to divine life’s temperature. When the time is right, she dumps in the yeast and I half expect to see crystals or sea monkeys start to grow.

She adds the yeast to the bowl of baking stuffs and lets it RIIIIISSE.

After it rises, she punches and chops it into submission.

Knock me off the wagon

The next dish is another contributor to my carbo-condition: mashed potatoes. But, these potatoes are not boxed or bought.  She skins and brings them to a boil.  She entrusts me to watch them until they are fork tender.  I meditate on them and practice my kata.  I discover that the secret is the roasted garlic.  She adds the garlic after the initial mash and pounds them until it is a pot of fluffy potato garlic clouds.

The last concoction is one that has become a staple in our tradition: mulled cider.  It consists of a mixture of cinnamon, clove, and apple juice with an added kick of Sailor Jerry’s Rum.  I’m not an apple juice or cider fan, but this tastes like autumn and crane kicks the chill of winter out of you.  I know that the preparations are almost ready when I get the first intoxicating whiffs of  cinnamon, cloves, and rummy citrus.  One sip and anyone could muster the strength to easily chop through six pieces of stacked ice.  I’ll post a video if I try it.

I can only hope that I was a good student this week and will move up in the ranks soon enough.  After all, I do it for the GLORY OF LOVE.

Honey Yeast Rolls

Ingredients:

2¼ tsp. instant yeast
1 cup warm water (105-115˚ F)
¼ cup honey
3 tbsp. canola oil
1¼ tsp. salt
1 egg, lightly beaten
4 cups bread flour
Vegetable cooking spray
2 tbsp. butter, melted
2 tbsp. honey

Directions:

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the yeast and warm water.  Add the honey, oil, salt, and egg and mix well.  Add 3 cups of the flour and mix until the dough comes together in a sticky mass.  Switch to the dough hook and, with the mixer on low speed, incorporate the remaining 1 cup of flour.  Continue kneading on low speed for about 8 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic.

Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, turn once to coat, and cover with plastic wrap.  Let rise in a warm, draft-free spot until doubled in bulk, about 2 hours.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for 30 seconds.  Cover with a towel and let rest for 10 minutes.  Punch the dough down and divide into 10-12 equal size pieces.  Shape each piece into a smooth ball and place into a round, lightly greased 9- or 10-inch round baking dish, spacing evenly.  Cover and let rise in a warm, draft-free spot for 20-30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400˚ F.  Mix together the melted butter and honey, and brush the tops of the rolls with the mixture.  Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown and the rolls are baked through.  Let cool slightly before serving.

Adapted from Annie’s Eats

Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes

First see how to roast garlic.

Ingredients:

5 pounds Russet Or Yukon Gold Potatoes, Peeled And Rinsed
3 heads To 5 Heads Roasted Garlic
1-½ stick Regular Salted Butter (3/4 Cup)
8 ounces, weight Softened Cream Cheese
½ cups Or So Half-and-half (Or Heavy Cream, If You're Feeling Naughty)
Salt To Taste
Black Pepper To Taste

Directions:

Cut the peeled potatoes into pieces and cook in boiling water until fork-tender. Drain water and return to pot, and mash potatoes over low heat until lots of the steam has escaped.

Next, mash in softened butter, cream cheese, half-and-half, and salt to taste. Dump in three to five heads of roasted garlic cloves; stir together, then check seasoning. Be sure to salt adequately.

Add some fresh ground black pepper, and serve with one or two roasted garlic cloves on top. Serve with steak and expect to be worshipped and kissed for at least 38 hours.

Adapted from The Pioneer Woman

Mulled Cider

Ingredients:

4 quarts apple juice or cider
1/2 cup brown sugar firmly packed
24 whole cloves
16 whole allspice
8 2-inch cinnamon sticks
2 whole nutmegs, cracked
1 to 2 cups golden rum
Lemon peel and/or other garnish of your choosing

Directions:

In a large saucepan, combine apple juice or cider, brown sugar, whole cloves, whole allspice, cinnamon sticks, and nutmegs.

Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes. Remove from heat, cool, then refrigerate several hours.

To serve: strain into punch bowl. Stir in 1 to 2 cups golden rum, according to taste. Garnish with thin strips of lemon peel. Note: mulled rum punch can be reheated after straining and adding rum if you wish to serve it hot.

Makes 24 (6 ounce) glasses.

Adapted from Yumsugar.com

Sausage & Shrimp Jambalaya

Tonight’s cook starts with an errand to the store.  I hadn’t thought about it before but considering that last time I brought out and arranged the ingredients (terribly, I might add) and this time I ran to the store to pick up the missing ones, I’m her errand boy, her apostle, if you will.  I’m ok with that, since I am the co-benefactor of the fruits of her labor.

I accidentally-on-purpose went without lunch in anticipation of her making jambalaya.  This is a bad thing because I am the epitome of why one should not go to the store hungry. I was tasked with only two ingredients, but I somehow took her request as an open invitation to come back with a canvas sack filled with nonsense.  A call for a can of diced tomatoes and chicken stock turned into a junk food shopping spree with ice cream sandwiches and Drano.  Oops…

The Jambalaya...

The meal starts with the “Southern Trinity,” which consists of bell pepper, celery, and onion.  It wasn’t until we actually lived in the south that I was made aware that many of the Bible Belt’s most famous dishes start with this holy combo.  It blows my mind because all three of those ingredients, for me, have a difficult time standing out on their own without globs of ranch or sour cream.  But, combined in a cast iron pot, anointed with oil, put over fire, and with the laying of my wife’s hands, they evoke a religious experience.

This just happens...

the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, & The Onion

She chops the trinity; she has to dice them separately before they can be made whole again in the sweet glory of jambalaya.  She simmers them in oil and garlic; the trinity’s spirit becomes manifest.  Then, she dumps a mixture of red and brown spices on top of the bubbling bits.  This is the Lazarus effect.  The steam gets thick and I know it’s right because my nostrils start to burn.  It tastes like burning in my throat, but a good burning, a fire I want to fuel.  The smell is contagious and a white flame ignites inside me, making me want to convulse and wave my hands in the air, like a member of the congregation at a holy rollers’ convention.

“Lazarus, come out!”

The aromas’ effects are compounded by the addition of kielbasa.

Hehe. Kielbasa. <--Click it.

I have to leave the kitchen to avoid an outburst like the ones shown in the video below:

[youtube=http://youtu.be/SZVhzVTBDvA]

The house warms and fills with flavor as she adds the chicken stock.  The smell pulls me back into the kitchen.  I get on my knees and plead for her to confess the secret to her jingle jangle.  She says, “I stir it together.”  Preach it sister!  The Lord does work in mysterious ways.  I withhold my blasphemes and back out of the kitchen with my head bowed.  Thou shalt not tempt the Lord...

It just got stirred.

After everything has been added to the pot, we sit and meditate in the living room, a 45 min. reflection.  I am lost until the time comes.  The power of the sound of the oven timer compels me to rise, then dash and grab two bowls. As she lifts the lid, a divine light and heavenly bouquet are released, causing me to stumble backward, pause, close my eyes, and let it wash over me.  We dig in and each spoonful warms our souls.  Mmhmmm...  I know that the recipe we use is not a traditional Jambalaya, but it’d beat the Devil’s in a cookin’ contest.

Amen.

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons of butter

3 cloves of garlic, minced

8 oz. kielbasa, Andouille sausage, or other spicy smoked sausage, sliced ¼ inch thick

2 tablespoons paprika

1 tablespoon ground cumin

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

½ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

1 teaspoon salt

1 can diced tomatoes (no salt added), not drained

1 large red, yellow, or orange bell pepper, diced

2 ribs of celery, sliced ¼ inch thick

1 medium onion, chopped

2 carrots, chopped

3 cups chicken broth

1 cup dried orzo

½-1 lbs medium to large shrimp, peeled and de-veined, preferably tails off

Directions:

In a heavy bottomed pot with a lid, melt the butter over medium heat.  Add the garlic and cook 1 min. or until fragrant.  Add the sliced sausage and cook, stirring, for 5 min.  Add the paprika, cumin, cayenne, black pepper, and salt.  Sauté the spices for 1 min, and then add the tomatoes.  Cook stirring for a few min. to let some of the liquid from the tomatoes evaporate.  Add the bell pepper, celery, onion, and carrots; cook, stirring for 5 min.

Add the stock, turn the heat up to high, and bring to a simmer.  Reduce the heat to low, cover the pot, and cook for 40 min.  Remove the lid and stir in the orzo and cook, covered, for 5 min.  Stir in shrimp, and cook, covered, for an additional 5 min.  Taste for seasoning and adjust, if needed.  Enjoy!

* Very heavily adapted from About.com

Shrimp & Spinach Risotto

This is not the first time she’s cooking this recipe, nor is it the first time I’ve gathered the ingredients for her.  But, as usual, I absent-mindedly ask what ingredients she needs and where the recipe is. I flip through the beloved binder to find the all too familiar page.  Our binder is not a traditional recipe collection.  It is a mélange of pages torn from issues of Southern Living and Gourmet, three-hole-punched, and aligned with sections printed from various online resources. I look at the tattered edges of the magazine pages and the gallons of ink I’ve used to print the others.

I am thankful we’ve transitioned to the iPad.

I review the recipe to construct a strategy to compile ingredients.  It occurs to me that the recipe/list is really just a crutch for me during my search.  Her end product is more than what is on the page.  Having it there is a rouse really.  When asked how she made something, just like her Grandma, she says, “I followed the directions on the box.”  Liars.  Both of them.

Duh, I know this one.  I’ve even taken a stab at it myself.  I am sure that somehow I’ve managed to flub it up.  I am the epitome of a klutz in the kitchen.  If I’m just grazing, I have no problem finding things.  I eat my way through the maze.  But when it comes to an ingredient hunt, everything shifts into a new and confusing labyrinth.

I blame it on the gremlins.

Between bouts of “No Shoes” and “Drop it” with the dog, I’m able to haphazardly pile the ingredients on the counter.  Seems simple enough.  Basic ingredients.  But, I should never underestimate her ability to transform starches, wine, and cheese into piles of ambrosia. I get to be a spectator.  I swim in the evolution of aromas wafting in and, on occasion, pop my head into the kitchen just to taste and annoy.  She cooks between bouts of “Errriiicc!” and “Stop it.”

First, she’s choppin’, she choppin’, she choppin’ – This goes through my head every time I see her at the cutting board, especially when we make stir-fry. (Watch it all or skip to the 2:37 mark to reminisce in my reference.)

10 feet is usually a safe distance...

She has knife-in-hand, so I leave or get kicked out, depending on who you ask.  When my curiosity gets the better of me (or my bottle gets empty), I creep back in to inspect the progress.  She has a setup like a risotto alchemist.  It was this organized when I got everything out, right?

The alchemist

I notice that she’s multitasking on a level that would have me burning down the kitchen in a matter of minutes.  Near the end, I’m only of use when she has to get out the ingredient I neglected to produce in my preliminary pile, so I have permission to stir the pot.

Lots of fire

I'm helping.

She adds a bit of Popeye’s panache, and we’re ready to enjoy.

Well blow me down.

Let's eat.

Ingredients:

4 cups reduced sodium chicken stock

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined

½ teaspoon salt, divided

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, divided

½ cup chopped carrots

½ cup chopped shallots

6 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup uncooked Arborio rice

½ cup dry white wine

½ cup (2 oz.) grated fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese or plain ole parmesan

2 tablespoons butter

1 cup frozen peas, thawed

3 cups spinach

Directions:

Bring chicken stock to a simmer in a small sauce pan, do not boil.  Keep warm over low heat.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat.  Sprinkle shrimp with ¼ teaspoon salt and 1/8 teaspoon pepper.  Add shrimp to pan; cook until mostly pink.  Remove pan from heat; set aside. 

Bring a small pot of water to boil.  Boil carrots for 5 minutes or until tender.  Drain and set aside.

Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a large sauce pan or stock pot over medium heat.  Add shallots and garlic to pan; cook 5 minutes or until tender, stirring frequently.  Add rice; cook 1 minute stirring constantly.  Stir in wine; cook 1 minute or until the liquid is nearly absorbed, stirring constantly.  Add 1 cup stock; cook 4 minutes or until liquid is nearly absorbed, stirring constantly.  Stir in remaining stock, ½ cup at a time, stirring frequently until each portion of stock is absorbed before adding the next. 

Stir in shrimp; cook 1 minute or until shrimp looks done.  Stir in cheese, butter, peas, cooked carrots, and remaining ¼ teaspoon of salt and 1/8 teaspoon of pepper.  Remove from heat; stir in spinach until wilted. 

*Yield: 6 servings (serving size: 1 cup)

Adapted from Cooking Light APRIL 2010