Monday, August 20, 2012

Sea Monster Stew


Never mind the crappy picture that looks more like Nessie in a loch of tomato sauce, it was a tasty mctasty dish and Michael asked me to write the recipe down so he could have it again. Unfortunately, this was the only picture I got.

Stuffed peppers that Michael liked.

Based on the recipe here.

3 large green bell peppers
1 lb ground turkey
2-3 large, fresh tomatoes
salt, pepper, smoked paprika to taste.
water as needed
1/4 cup rhubarb chutney
1-2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1/2 to 2 cups cooked rice (more rice if you are filling more peppers)
Shredded cheese (colby, cheddar)
2-3 cups spaghetti sauce.

cut the tops off the green peppers and clean out seeds, set aside.

Brown the turkey in a sauce pan. Chop the tomatoes. toss tomatoes, spices, water in with the turkey and boil down until tomatoes are cooked and water mostly gone. Add chutney, Worcestershire sauce. mix, adjust any spices if needed. Add rice. Stuff the peppers and place in baking dish. Fill tops with shredded cheese. Thin spaghetti sauce to gravy consistency and pour over peppers and in pan. Bake at 375 until peppers are soft--we prefer at "al dente."


For myself, I'd sub quorn or lentils. Maybe tempeh.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Howdy!

I decided to follow eRecipecards because I would like to see how he does with his "52 Ways to use a rotisserie chicken" project. I have a similar frugal struggle going on, but it's more like "Ways to use EVERY LAST BIT of what you bought."

So, when I cook greens, I drag out an empty peanut container, and pour the potlikker into it. Why? Because empty peanut jars are usually only empty of large piece of peanuts. There is usually a bit of salt and a palmful of small peanut pieces, which, with the potlikker, makes a nice base for cooking rice or other grains. You get a little salt for flavoring, you get a little peanut for flavoring, and you capture all the vitamins and goodies from the greens.

Canned veggies or sea creatures? Pour that canning broth into a jar and save it, and yay, you've got the salt and flavoring base for a pot of beans.

I have not had to buy stock for a while. That is the nature of my project: all the ways the bits left behind can be made to serve. Or made, to be served up. ;-)

Other odd frugal things: replant the root base of onions and leeks into your garden, and ta-da, you get more onions and leeks. I anticipate a greatly reduced need to buy onions and leeks. :-)

But that isn't strictly cooking, so I will move away from that to a squash dish I made the other day:




SPICED ZUKES

1. Chop about 4 cups of fresh zucchini. Sauté in about 2-4 tablespoons of olive oil.
2. When the zucchini has begun to soften, add two chopped tomatoes, lightly sauté, and then add enough water to lightly simmer--1/4 to 1/2 a cup.
3. Add 1 tablespoon of Auntie Arwen's Sheik of the Desert Ras el Hanout.
4. Cover and let simmer until sauce is reduced and zucchini is cooked through to your liking.

Simple. Good.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Rhubarb Chutney


What the hell is this, you might ask?

I'll tell you what it is, it's goddam deliciousness in a jar, that's what it is.

I've harvested the rhubarb and have been wanting to try a recipe for "rhubarb catsup" for some time. Since I have more than enough on hand to make several different things, I tried it. The original is here. My changes are below.

4 cups diced fresh rhubarb
1 large onions, chopped
1 cup white vinegar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup sugar
1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes, undrained
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon Coleman's ground mustard
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon Auntie Arwen's Dynamite for the Soul hot pepper flakes
1 bay leaf, crumbled as finely as possible.

Throw it all in a crock pot. Let it simmer until the rhubarb has disintegrated and the liquid has cooked off to a point just a bit thinner than you like your chutney. This will thicken as it cools. This quantity makes about 5 cups, depending on how much you boil off.

I let mine cook overnight.

It's spicy and bar-be-cue-y. I told Michael it was chutney because I was not sure he would try it if I called it "catsup." Besides, It's chunky. I can't be bothered with mashing the chunks away. Michael loved it.

I told him what it was called. Michael tasted it again and said, "Ketchup? No way, this is a chutney, you called it right, sweetie."

Ah, what a lovely al freco dining experience.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Chitown Taters Soup

Chitown Taters


Back from vacation and slowly moving into the cooking habit.

This was an accident that made Michael say, "What is this? This is delicious!"

I thought I'd better write it down.

Base:

leftover noodle broth--Michael had prepared himself some egg noddles, and buttered and salted the cooking water--totaled about 6-8 cups. There appeared to be about two tablespoons of butter in the water. It leaves a pleasant flavor and so I added the following:

2 large carrots, sliced
4 large potatoes, chunked, skin on

Bring to a boil, and then simmer until vegetables are almost done. Add

2 onions, peeled and chunked

Simmer until onions are soft. Add

1 cup fat free sour cream or sour cream substitute
1 tablespoon of Penzey's Chicago Steakhouse blend.

Blend in. Now, mix

1-2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup water

until lump free in a separate bowl, and stir in to simmering soup to thicken. Taste. You may need to add a little more of the Steakhouse blend, and a little more salt at this point--adjust according to your taste.

This produces a soup that has a touch of smokiness and a touch of pepper. Michael ate 3 bowls. I ended up adding about .5 tablespoon of the Steakhouse seasoning and about .5 t of salt after the cornstarch; the addition of the cornstarch does reduce the strength of the spices, and as I love spicy food, I added more of the blend and only a touch more salt, as I tend to not like things with much more than a hint of salt.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

It's been a long time

I have been much too busy to explore and discuss cookery these days. It's something of a problem, as a matter of fact, because it means that I have again devolved to eating what I can get cooked quickly and everything is dreadfully bean-brown-mush looking. This is what I have had time and forethought to do.

That should be over for a while. After this morning's horrifying lunch, I really need to consider my cooking again. Pay attention. Have time.

I can say I have learned a few things:

1. I am an indifferent food blogger.
2. I don't really like fava beans as much as I want to.
3. This place is really better as a repository of failure than any kind of world-shattering tool.
4. I'm tired of brown food but my budget is so tight that there is going to be a lot more of it. Yes. Even more.

So, let's talk briefly about popcorn.

Yeah, I know, that's a change. I can eat a whole 16 cups of it at a time. I suppose I could try for more, but I would... no, I won't lie. It's the limit of my favorite pan, that's why I stop at 16. Bad home made popcorn is better than any store-boughten, pre-popped stuff. WHole grain snack goodness that I love, just plain. No butter, minimal salt--you really can't eat that much popcorn AND put all the stuff on it. I'd rather eat more popcorn and do without butter.

Based on some internet research (using the magical and TOTALLY UNEXPECTED search phrase, "how to pop popcorn"), I learned two things:

1. The way I was taught to make popcorn is apparently the best way to do it at home and the horrifying hell of microwave popcorn left a whole generation bereft of this valuable knowledge.

2. You can put salts and spices into the oil before popping instead of after.

So, I tried point #2, as I already had #1 together. Note to self--maybe consider not heating the spices with the oil, put them in right before the popcorn. Note to self 2--this leaves the pan considerably messier--salty and singed spices oh my!

Anyway, as I had a mass of popcorn for dinner last night, I'd best not eat that tonight, There is a limit to the fiber my innards want to deal with at any given time.


So let's talk about almond milk based yogurt instead:

Almande has finally shown up on the shelves of my favorite Outpost--surprisingly, I could not find it at Whole Foods when I was down there a week or so ago--and so I bought some. I have a lovely bunch of yogurt starter sitting in my cupboard, but this product got to my house before I felt the need to experiment with making it myself, so of course, I bought some.

I have mixed feelings about it. It's a ghodsend in that it's a decent yogurt product that is soy free, and the fruit flavored yogurts are fine, better that So Delicious Coconut, my former yogurt-like treat. Unlike the coconut milk yogurts, it tastes like a standard fruit yogurt, not like coconut + blueberries.

Which, I might add, was always pretty much a "meh" combination for me.

I don't have any complaints about the textures, either, as by the time I found it in Milwaukee, a number of the issues identified by earlier customers had been corrected.

But the underlying combination of sour and almond flavor in the vanilla and the plain flavors--the large sizes I would usually buy--are ... ah... odd. Not yogurty enough.

Now, I am sure that seems silly, eh? Almond milk yogurt isn't yogurty enough? Listen, my children, ever since I found Greek Gods Honey flavored Yogurt, all plain or vanilla yogurts are no longer yogurty enough. Because that stuff is my idea of what yogurt should be. Holy man.

Of course, I can hardly ever have it, which is why it's teh sadeness that the Almande, while perfectly acceptable on it's own, isn't even close to as good. However, I'll adjust. Just as I can appreciate a veggie burger for what it is rather than despair over what it isn't (a hamburger!), I will enjoy this for what it is. After all, there were a few years in which it was milk-based, soy-based, or nothing. I usually had nothing for those years.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Notes--Cookery Roundup.

1: Beans for quick! a

blackeyedpeas
So, I make a lot of beans. And here, in far too close detail, is one easy favorite (on injera no less). Black Eyed Peas + Water in Pot + Spices (and when it's going on injera I usually use one of the Ethiopian Berbere blends I got from Auntie Arwen) + Olive Oil + Sauteed Onion. Cook to a slightly mushy consistency.

2: Beans for Quick! b

No pictures yet, just some notes in case this works well. I love sausage. I bought several sausage spice blends from Penzey's, & first try, of course, was the ol' "homaid" seitan sausage, which, as usual, came out tasting amazingly not like sausage. So, two experiments underway: beans spiced appropriately & with a little vegetable. Blend 1: kidney beans, onion, jalapeno, breakfast sausage mix. Blend 2: Navy beans, potatoes, and either bratwurst or Italian, probably Italian. The Italian is a slightly sweeter blend, and so it it will likely be a better match. I experiment with it, choice depending upon whether I roast or boil the potatoes. Roasted taters might be nicer with a "sausage forte" rather than a "sausage douce" blend (a la' poudre forte versus poudre douce. I'm so medieval).

3: Duck eggs!

Pacific Produce

There we go. Hard boiled, fresh, and boiled and dyed duck eggs. At last, a source. Whether they are regularly there or not I can not say, but given that it's an oriental market, I expect there's a good chance that they're there regularly. They'll stay a treat, though. 79¢ for one egg rather means that I won't be buying them often. I had one fr breakfast with black beans and tortillas the next day, though, how could I not? However the best bit of cookery so far was this lacto-ovo vegetarian medieval nom nom:

DSCN0844

Leek & Mushroom Pie. Nom. Nom. Nom. I have the research and stuff gathered for it, but I just haven't felt like writing it up. It's something I have actually made a lot. I just have never presented it as something that I would have other cooks prep up with some assurance that it's SCA appropriate.


I need to get to it soon, though. Then I won't have it on my to-do list.

4: Why Pictures are so often fail for me:

DSCN0786

This was a delicious lunch one day in January. I took a picture so that I'd write it down and share, because, again, it was simple and yum. The roasted veggies were delightful and tend to be the same trick used over and over: veggies, olive oil, spice mix. I can't recall which mix I used here, but the nigella seed is pretty obvious, so it was one of only two blends in my spice box. I remember it was okay, but not as good on roasted veggies as other blends. What I really wanted to recall was the fact that I found that broccoli stalks roast well. Peel the woodiest bits off the stalk with a peeler, chunk 'em up the same way you might chunk a carrot, and go forth and roast.

The moment of fail? The quinoa. I can't recall how I treated it. And it was good. Darn. This happens to me all the time. I'm just not diligent about keeping my cookery notes. ::sigh::

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Injera.... of the wheat-based, North American sort.

I have a great love for sourdough; it's a fabulous flavor addition that also keeps me from having to buy bread yeast. For years, I have been working at making various kinds of pan-baked flat breads from my sourdough, and would eventually come up with a bunch of varieties that I like. Most Americans think about the sort of thing you can get at IHOP as the only sort of pancakes, but actually, there are lots of different kinds of pancakes, as evidenced by this article in Wikipedia.

Injera is sometimes described as a pancake, sometimes as a flat bread, but whatever you call it, it is a quintessential element of Ethiopian cuisine, and I love it. As I have to regularly feed and eat my sourdough, I decided that an injera (of a sort) was an excellent project.

It took me a number of years to get a reliable rate of return on my experiments. This is not a perfect injera, as it is wheat based and does use a little more leavening than just the yeast in the sourdough, but the results of just sourdough, white flour, and water are too gummy to work well. This method will, however, produce a yummy injera that will work under any stew, or wat, or, really, whatever you might usually eat with bread to soak up sauces in any style of cuisine. Actual working time is not that long, but it is a process, so you'll have to plan for it.

Injera is a process, not a recipe!

1. Feed your sourdough starter the night before. I have a well established sourdough starter that I keep in the refrigerator. Take it out, pour off the liquid that has accumulated at the top (this is the alcohol that the fermenting sourdough has produced. You can stir it back in, but it will make a very sharp flavor that many people don't like. It will also make your starter more liquidy, and will require you to adjust the amount of liquid you add later), and scrape the rest into a plastic, ceramic, or glass bowl with plenty of room. Feed the starter one cup of flour and one cup of warm (but not too hot) water. Stir it up with a non-metal utensil*. Don't worry about lumps, just get it all moist. The bacteria and yeast in the sourdough starter will take care of the lumps. Cover the bowl, set it aside, and go to bed.

The amount of activity you get in your sourdough will relate to the temperature in your kitchen. Heat directly affects how fast the sourdough will rise and fall, with warmer kitchens producing faster rises, but 7-8 hours is usually enough in most North American kitchens to get it into the useful cycle without getting it past the useful stage (where you start producing significant amounts of alcohol).

In the morning, return 1 cup of the starter to a jar and place back into the fridge. The remainder in the bowl is what you have to work with for the injera.

If you don't have an established sourdough starter, you can get one either by following these classic instructions, or by purchasing one of the commercially available starters. Or you can get one from a friend. :-)

2. Measure out your remaining sourdough. I usually end up with between 1 to 1.5 cups. From this point, you must recognize that you are working with an ingredient that will never be as predictable as purchased yeast and be prepared for some flexibility.

3. Gather the things you need: a pan for baking, a liquid, and a baking mix. I have a dedicated, round, non-stick, flat griddle/pancake pan. A round frying pan of any sort will work, but this really works best with some kind of griddle pan, preferably something that won't require you to add a "lubricating" ingredient, like butter or oil.

As for liquid: I use almond milk, as this adds more flavor, more body, and more nutrition than water. Soy milk should work, but I haven't tried it. And for the baking mix: I use Bisquick's Heart Healthy mix, as it lacks milk and egg. There is some soy lecithin in it, but as of this time, it hasn't been a problem for me. If it ever gets to the point where it is, I'll just have to mix my own baking mix. There are plenty of instructions for a homemade baking mix online, so I won't go there now.

4. Add the milk and baking mix to the sourdough in the ratio 1 part sourdough to 1.5 parts milk, 1.5 parts baking mix. Let it rest for 15-30 minutes, to allow the sourdough to begin rising.

5. Heat your pan. Just like regular pancakes, test for heat by shaking a few drops of water on the griddle; they should roll about and jump and dance. Reduce heat slightly if needed--if you are the sort, like me, who heats on high, you'll need to cut that back when actually cooking the pancake. Medium to high-medium should do you for the baking of the injera. When the pan is heated, pour a small amount of the batter on to the hot pan and cook (as described below, beginning with #6).

This is where you must remind yourself that you are working with what is an ever-changing ingredient. What will work perfectly on day 1 will not work perfectly on day 2. The heat in your kitchen, the heat in your pan, the time you let the sourdough rise over night, the time you let the mix rise, et cetera, are a delicate balancing act.

When you finish cooking that test injera, eat it as soon as it is cool enough to eat. You are looking for it to be too thick or too gummy. "Gummy" can't really be described well, but if you ever ate a gumdrop, you know it. This method of making injera should produce, when right off the griddle, a very thin and flexible flat bread with a slightly gummy texture, but that texture should be something that you would eat even if a little gummy--you know, that "It's not perfect, but it's tasty and I can manage" sort of moment. If it's too thick--which is usually evident in the pour--add a little more liquid. If it's too gummy, add a little more baking mix and a little more liquid, and set aside another 10 minutes or so. Keep making little text injera until you are either at the point where you are satisfied with the texture, or you have invested as much of the ingredients as you are willing to invest and are accepting of the fact that this will not be a perfect batch (don't worry, though, you can still eat them, more on that later). Remember, though, the more baking mix and almond milk you add, the less intense the sourdough flavor will be.

6. Pour enough batter on the griddle to make a single, thin (about 1/8 inch) injera. Usually, your batter will land in the center and you will swirl it around to make a thin, even layer. Watch for the injera to start cooking and bubbling even as you swirl it around the pan; that's a good sign. Your pan is hot without being too hot and your batter is probably of a good consistency.

injera is a process


7. Let the miricle of heat, steam, and leavening do its magic. You will watch the injera carefully--small bubbles will appear and pop all over the surface. Let it all cook merrily until the top of the injera is dry. You'll recognize it. The above picture is of a dry injera. Spots that were still wet, still needing to cook, would appear brighter. It doesn't actually take very long to get to this stage.

injera is a process


This is a closeup of the surface, with the contrast slightly enhanced, to show you what the surface will look like. The tiny bubbles, like this, are perfect. Larger bubbles are not a problem, but the more little bubbles you have the spongier the texture will be at the end. If you have larger bubbles, try stirring down the batter to reduce the amount of air in the mixture (remember, the yeast is not the only leavening agent at work here, so it's not a tragedy if you stir it down a little). If that doesn't work, make the batter a little thinner with a little more liquid.

8. Flip the injera. Traditional injera is finished at this point, but this recipe is better with a little heat applied to both sides.

injera is a process


You can see the path the batter took when I swirled it in the pan along the pattern in the injera. I usually leave it flipped just long enough to let steam start penetrating this side for 5-10 seconds. Not long, just long enough to let steam start working merrily. (Note that this is the point at which you eat your test injeras, otherwise, proceed)

9. Flip the injera again and move it to a covered dish. I usually place it on a ceramic plate, fold it in half (so that the brown side is out)and cover the plate with a glass frying pan lid. Why? Because you are going to let the residual heat and steam finish cooking the injera--that's what will move the texture from slightly gummy to spongy.

injera is a process


Stack the cooked injera into the covered dish as you cook them. When the last one is done, set them aside and let them completely cook to room temperature. You might want to remove the lid from the dish and shake off the condensation once while it's cooling, but if you forget, it's usually no big deal. Cook up a stew and have a delish dinner.


If your Injera isn't perfect

So you let steam get you to the end and you can't stop yourself from a nibble and decide that, well, this batch came out differently than you hoped. All is not lost, so don't put that stack of food that you spent money and time to make into the garbage yet.

First, cook up the stew you were going to make and try it anyway. Very often, what doesn't work plain will be just fine once it absorbs the sauces from the stew. You can also reheat this on the griddle, and that extra bit of heat will sometimes help.

If that doesn't fix it (and it's rare for me that thiese simple steps won't rescue an imperfect batch) then you can...
  • toast them in the oven and eat with sugar, butter, jam, syrup, et cetera.
  • Slice into strips and marinate with a sauce for a very soft noodle.
  • cut up and fry with za'atar and olive oil, or some other favorite thing, like pesto or garlic or whatever.


Only my first batches, before I stopped stirring the two-week old hootch back into the sourdough or significantly under used baking mix, were ever so awful that I couldn't finish eating what I'd made. I find this to be usable all the time, these days.

Let me know how it goes!


Note:
Sourdough should not be mixed with or rested in metal utensils--the actions of the yeast and bacteria symbosis can pick up flavors from the metal.