Katie at the Kitchen Door

Globally-inspired, seasonal recipes

Blog Page

0 Dessert

Quit Playing Games with My Heart

[Disclaimer: I wrote this a month ago.  I made the cupcakes yesterday.  I am a bad blogger; forgive me.  But the story is still relevant, as the cardinal is still not cooperating, and the cupcakes are still delicious, so I encourage you not to give up on me.  Yet.]

He’s such a tease.   He’s there, tantalizingly close, and then he’s gone, just like that.  I’m this close to giving up on him completely, but some small part of me can’t let go.  If only he knew how much it would mean to me if he could just sit there, quietly, for 45 seconds.  Stupid bird.

OK, maybe I shouldn’t care so much, but I’ve been trying to get a decent picture of this bird for a full week.  Two cardinals live in the bushes behind my apartment, and they are absolutely stunning.  I’ve always thought cardinals are beautiful – they way their red coats match the berries on an iced-over holly bush can really brighten up a winter day – but I’d never seen them in the summer until I moved here.  That red against the vibrant green foliage of North Carolina in May is just incredible.  Sometimes when one of the birds flies past my window I literally catch my breath.  Just ask Trevor – several Skype conversations have been interrupted recently by a rapid head turn and exclamation of “Bird!” a la Doug from Up.  (Incredible movie.  I could watch it 100 times and laugh/cry every time.)   Once I even hung up on him to run barefoot out the door and chase the birds around the apartment complex.  And yet, where is the stunning photographic evidence of this?  Sadly, nowhere to be found. [Fortunately, I have been able to counter this lack of cardinal photography with what is hopefully stunning cupcake photography.  Cupcakes are very cooperative subjects.]

Now, I’ve been in this situation before.  Last summer, my sole mission in life was to get close enough to one of the loons of Walker Pond to take a good picture.  My brother and I took our clunky old motor boat, The Tub, across the lake to work every morning, and on the days that there was a loon in our vicinity I’d hiss “Ryan, I’ve got to get that bird!”  And like the wonderful brother he is, he would dull the engine, and steer us slowly toward the bird, with me in the front holding my breath and desperately snapping long distance pictures.  We’d almost be close enough and then, without a sound, the loon would be underwater, not even leaving a ripple on the surface.  Admittedly, a gasoline chugging motorboat is not really the ideal stealth vehicle, but taking my camera in any sort of unstable boat is not worth the hyperventilation that occurs as I envision my beautiful Canon sinking to the bottom of the lake.  So when my brother left for school a few days before I did and I was on my own on the boat front (i.e. I canoed; the Tub and I are not compatible individuals, much to my parents’ frustration), my pocket camera was all that accompanied me.  As Trevor and I canoed peacefully across the lake one orange-tinged morning, a loon popped peacefully up about 50 meters in front of us.  And then, one by one, six more popped up next to him.  We paddled silently towards them, getting so close that we could see their shiny red eyes watching us.  It was perfect: seven graceful loons drifting through small puffs of leftover fog, the whole lake silent but for the hesitant chirps of the birds.  And the only photographic evidence I have is a grainy, dull photo with seven small blobs.

And now this cardinal is playing the same game with me.  Oh we’ve had some close calls, the cardinal and I.  There was the time he landed on my drainpipe while I was waiting there, camera poised, only to realize that my shutter speed was way too high, and as I frantically spun the camera wheel, he flitted away like it was nothing.  And then, when I had the camera poised and perfectly adjusted on him resting on a distant branch, he dove out of the field of vision, leaving me with a dramatic red blur streaked across my photo.  Just the other afternoon, he landed on a cannister right outside my window, but I knew if I opened the back door he would leave in a hurry, so there will forever be the stains of my dirty window in between me and that beautiful red bird.

His wife has been more cooperative, but, no offense to her, she’s just not as attractive.  Sure, her beak is nice, and she is certainly distinctive, but she just can’t hold a candle to her male counterpart.  I have a few shots that are OK, but I’m just not satisfied.  With each frustration, the amount of respect I have for the patience that wildlife photographers have in their pursuit of nature’s rarest creatures grows.  I can barely manage standing on my own back porch for half an hour, and so I can’t imagine what standing in sub-zero temperatures for 48 hours waiting for the instantaneous migration of a rare goose in China would be like.  (Yes, someone did this, I saw the exhibit in Prague.)

So, wow, if you came here expecting food and read all of that bird-chasing-nonsense, I definitely owe you a recipe of some sorts.  Unfortunately, I do not know of any cardinal recipes.  And I already shared the only recipe I know that has the world cardinal in it here.  And as Megan just pointed out, eating a loon is probably a felony. So…

Cupcakes!  Everybody loves cupcakes, even if they have absolutely no relevance to the 800 words they just read.  And hopefully you’ve made it to this point because of the tantalizing cupcake photographs that have accompanied my bird saga.  These are cupcakes that I’ve been mulling over in my head for a while – I love the idea of spicy, chai flavored baked goods, and I just couldn’t shake the image of a chai cupcake topped with a tangy raspberry frosting.  So I made some, and they were good.  And they were very pretty.  So I’m happy.

Chai Cupcakes with Raspberry Cream Cheese Frosting

(Adapted from Sky High Cakes via Une-Deux Senses)

For the cupcakes (makes 12):

  • 2/3 c. whole milk
  • 5 bags chai tea
  • 2 whole eggs
  • 1 egg yolk
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 1/3 c. cake flour
  • 1 c. sugar
  • 2 1/4 tsp. baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp cinnamon
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1 stick unsalted butter, softened
  1. Preheat oven to 350°F.  Line cupcake tin with liners.
  2. Bring milk to a low simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally.  Add tea bags and remove from heat.  Allow to steep for 10 minutes.  Squeeze milk from teabags and discard tea.
  3. In a small bowl mix together 1/4 cup of the chai milk with the eggs, egg yolk, and vanilla.
  4. In a large bowl, sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.  Add butter and remaining chai milk and beat until fluffly.
  5. Add egg mixture in two batches and mix just to incorporate.
  6. Divide batter evenly among cupcake cups.  Bake for 18-22 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean.

For the frosting (makes enough for a lot more than 12 – halve, or plan on having extra):

  • 1 8oz package of cream cheese, at room temperature
  • 3 TBS butter, at room temperature
  • 1/4 c. – 1/3 c. raspberry jam
  • 2-3 TBS grenadine or raspberry flavored syrup/liquor
  • 2 1/2 c. powdered sugar

Beat cream cheese and butter together until fluffy.  Mix in jam and syrup until desired color and flavor is reached.  Mix in powdered sugar a half cup at a time, stopping when desired consistency is reached.  Chill for an hour before using.

0 Dessert

Shortcake Remix

I recently joined a baking challenge group called Have the Cake, and yep, every month they choose a cake that the members have to make and blog about.  I was really attracted to the group because it has a small-ish number of members which makes it feel more welcoming than groups like the Daring Bakers – an incredible group with a daunting number of members.  They also seem to choose very open-ended challenges, such as flan and buttermilk cake – it leaves so much room to play!

This month was my first participating in Have the Cake, and I was psyched to see that the challenge was strawberry shortcake, a birthday favorite of mine for many years.  Now, strawberry shortcake pretty much embodies perfection as it is, so I was hesitant to mess around with it.  The point of strawberry shortcake is that it’s a refreshing, simple balance of three flavors and textures that retain their integrity even as they blend.  It’s not a dessert that you really want to fancify or complicate.  That being said, however, it’s a challenge group – I wanted to get creative and find a new way to present an old favorite.

So I spent some time browsing the giant cookbook that is the internet for a recipe that would retain the simplicity of strawberry shortcake while also enhancing it.  I found several incredibly appealing recipes – the second place recipe was hazelnut shortcakes with blackberries and cassis cream.  But that seemed like too much of a departure from the original, so I passed on it, although don’t be surprised if it shows up on here soon – I’m a huge sucker for cassis.

I ended up sticking with a classic shortcake and a classic whipped cream, and only played with the filling.  Before I tell you what it was though, let me just tell you this: it was really, really good.  Like, I actually whimpered a little bit when I ate it.  And I’m not trying to brag.  I just want you to be able to whimper with gastronomic pleasure too.

The filling was rhubarb.  Rhubarb compote and lemon curd.  A bite including fluffy shortcake, tart rhubarb and lemon, and smooth, velvety cream was pretty much bliss.  The biscuit-curd-cream combo would make it an exceptionally good teatime treat, although I also plan on eating it for breakfast tomorrow as well as for dessert for as many nights as it lasts.  Basically, I would serve it to anyone, any day, at any time.  And I would expect them to love me a measurable amount more than they did 5 minutes before I served it to them.

So a great first Have the Cake experience!  I’m already stoked about next month.  And before I go, some thanks are due: thank you to Joanne over at Eats Well with Others, which is one of my absolute favorite blogs to read, for hosting this month’s challenge, and thanks as well to Rainy Day Gal for the inspiration for this dessert!

Rhubarb and Lemon Curd Shortcakes

Serves 6

For the shortcakes: (Recipe adapted slightly from Alton Brown)

  • 2 c. flour
  • 4 tsp baking powder
  • 3/4 tsp salt
  • 1/3 c. sugar
  • 2 TBS butter, chilled
  • 2 TBS shortening
  • 1 c. half and half or buttermilk
  • Melted butter to brush shortcakes

Preheat oven to 400°F.  In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar.  Cut in butter and shortening in small pieces.  Mix with a pastry cutter or fork, pressing butter into flour to make a crumbly mixture.  Mix in half and half or buttermilk until fully incorporated.  Drop dough onto greased or parchment-paper lined baking sheet with a large spoon.  Brush with melted butter and sprinkle with turbinado sugar.  Bake for 15-18 minutes, until golden brown on top.

For the lemon curd:

  • 5 egg yolks
  • 1 c. sugar
  • juice and zest of 3-4 medium lemons
  • 2-4 TBS butter (optional)

Fill a medium sized pan halfway with water and bring to a low boil.  In a smaller, metal pot or bowl, whisk together egg yolks, sugar, and juice and zest of lemons.  Place egg-lemon mixture over boiling water and cook, whisking constantly, for 8-10 minutes, or until a thick curd has formed.  Remove from heat and whisk in butter a tablespoon at a time.  To store, press plastic wrap against the surface and refrigerate.

[Note:  All curd recipes call for the addition of butter at the end.  However, I completely forgot to add it this time, and didn’t notice a difference.  In fact, I liked the texture of the curd somewhat better without the butter!  So it’s completely up to personal preference whether or not to include it.]

For the rhubarb compote:

  • 4 stalks (about 1 lb.) rhubarb, washed and trimmed
  • 1/3. cup sugar
  • 1/4 c. citrus juice  or water (I used Simply Limeade)

Chop rhubarb into 1/2 inch pieces.  Mix with sugar and citrus juice or water in a medium pan.  Cook over medium heat for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until rhubarb has broken down and a compote has formed.

To serve shortcakes, slice open and spread a layer of lemon curd topped with a layer of rhubarb compote on the bottom shortcake.  Replace shortcake top and slather with homemade whipped cream.

0 Beef

Tamales!

My internet persona has been so M.I.A.  It’s just that I got distracted by real life things like moving to a new apartment and hunting down my missing research advisor and learning to live in the same 1000 sq. ft. as my not-so-long-anymore distance boyfriend.  There’s been a lot going on, but it’s been a good time.  The pictures I printed three months ago are actually on the walls now.  A working vacuum cleaner is once again within my grasp.  My herbs are thriving on their new porch.  Almost thriving.  Not dead.  We survived a night camping at an incredibly beautiful beach.  And we had a little party last night.

Parties are just the best, aren’t they?  You get to eat and drink and laugh with people that you like.  What more could you want?  And this party, this party involved a new food, a food that’s been on our list for a long time: tamales.

Mmm, tamales.  Although they were indeed served hot, I would like to clarify that they were not hot tamales.  Why are they called that anyway?  I really don’t see any resemblance between a small, red, cinnamon flavored candy and a large, steamed corn husk full of masa and chili sauce and exceedingly tender beef.  Someone in the candy industry goofed.  And now there are probably many poor lost souls who don’t know what a real tamale is.  Which is tragic, because they are really good.

However, they are a serious time commitment.  The beef needs to stew for 3 hours.  The chili sauce takes 45 minutes.  The corn husks need to soak for half an hour.  You have to assemble each tamale by hand.  And then they need to steam for an hour.  So not something you can really throw together at the last minute.  But I’m not telling you this to scare you away!  On the contrary, they’re very easy.  And they’re very social.  So if you feel like inviting some friends over and drinking sangria and tequila and having everyone play with their food, you should really go for it.  Just make sure you have many snacks to sustain the diligent tamale makers.

And make a lot.  We made a lot.  We now have a lot.  Tamales on tamales.  Tamales for days.

This is a positive thing.

Beef Tamales

Adapted from Food Network

  • 2.5 pounds beef shoulder roast
  • Salt and pepper
  • 2 onions, sliced
  • 6-12 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
  • 6 dried New Mexico chilies
  • 2 dried ancho chilies
  • 2 TBS cumin seed, toasted
  • 2 tsp molasses, optional
  • 1 bag dried corn husks (3-4 dozen)
  • 4 c. masa flour
  • 1 TBS baking powder
  • 4 c. reserved beef broth from roast
  • 2 tsp salt
  • 1 c. shortening or lard

Timeline:  Prepare roast.  While stewing, make chili sauce and masa mixture.  When beef is done, begin soaking corn husks.  Shred cooled roast and mix with chili sauce.  Form tamales.  Steam tamales.  Eat tamales.

For the beef:

  1. Season the beef shoulder on both sides with salt and pepper.  Brown in large, heavy-bottomed dutch oven.
  2. When browned on all sides, cover roast completely with water.  Add 1 of the sliced onions and 6-10 cloves crushed garlic.
  3. Cover and simmer for 3 hours, until meat is tender enough to pull apart with a fork.
  4. Remove roast from pan and place on platter to cool.  Keep the broth – it is used to make the masa.

For the chili sauce:

  1. Cut the tops off of the dried chilies and shake the seeds out.  Slice lengthwise to open up and remove any remaining seeds and ribs.
  2. Place chilies in a medium pot.  Cover with water, add the toasted cumin, remaining onion, and remaining garlic.  Boil for 20 minutes, until chilies are very soft.
  3. Use tongs to place chilies in blender.  Ladle some of the chili water into the blender.  Puree until smooth.  Pass puree through strainer.  Add salt, and molasses if desired, tasting to check seasonings.  Keep sauce in fridge until it is ready to be used.

Note:  The original recipe instructs you to add only one ladle-ful of chili water to the blender.  However, I added all of the chili water because I wanted to get all of the cumin seeds and as much flavor as possible into the sauce.  This led to a very thin sauce, so I returned it to the pan and boiled for another 10 minutes until the consistency was as desired.  Trevor thought the sauce needed an extra dimension so I added molasses and it worked perfectly.

For the masa:

  1. In a large bowl, combine the masa, baking powder, and 2 tsp. salt.
  2. Pour 4 cups of reserved beef broth into masa a little at a time, working it in with your fingers.
  3. In a separate bowl or mixer, beat shortening until fluffy.  Add it to the masa and beat until it has a spongy texture.

Assembly:

  1. Carefully separate dried corn husks in soak in a large pan or sink filled with warm water.  When corn husks are soft and no longer fragile, drain and pat dry.
  2. Shred beef into small pieces by hand and mix with chili sauce.
  3. Take several of the corn husks and tear lengthwise into half inch “ropes.”  These will be used to tie the tamales.
  4. To form a tamale, take a corn husks and place rough side down with the narrow end pointing towards you.  Take a small handful of masa and press it into a square in the middle of the corn husk.  Their should be an inch or two free on the top and bottom of the corn husk, and an inch free on one side of the corn husk.  Place a heaping tablespoon of the beef mixture into the middle of the masa, keeping it away from the edges.  Carefully fold the sides of the corn husk together so that the edges of the masa are just touching, and wrap the extra husk around the outside.  Using the strips of corn husk, tightly tie the ends of the tamale together so that it resembles a Christmas popper.
  5. Fill a large stockpot with 2-3 inches of water and bring to a low boil.  Stand tamales up in a steamer basket or large colander and place over boiling water.  Cover tamales with a damp towel, and place lid over pot/steamer or pot/colander combination.  Steam tamales for one hour, checking occasionally to make sure the water does not boil away.

0 Dessert

Anniversary

Monday (yes, I know, today is Saturday, it’s been a long, long 4 day week), was our anniversary.  Our second anniversary to be exact.  Except it’s not very exact really, as we sort of picked it arbitrarily.  What with today’s dating ambiguities, does anyone have a real anniversary?  Probably lots of people, but shhh.

For our anniversary we cooked and ate and drank, duh.  That’s what we do best.  Dinner was just a simple tomato sauce and linguini, but dessert, dessert was special.  It was so special in fact that we ate it before dinner, then again for breakfast the next morning, and then again for dinner the next night, reaping many, many health benefits along the way.

Do you recognize that floaty, creamy, caramel-y vision?  No?  Well, it’s île flottante, it’s trés parisienne, and it’s heaven.

The reason île flottante was the dessert of choice, besides that it’s incredibly delicious, is maybe a little bit cutesy and nostalgic, but I decided that that was OK because anniversaries are supposed to be just a little bit cutesy and nostalgic.  See, last May, Trevor and I spent two wonderful weeks in France.  (In hindsight, it was perhaps not the wisest financial choice for two 20 year old college students, but you’ve gotta do stuff like that when you’re young, right?)  And, one night, we ate at a tiny restaurant down the street from our apartment, and we sat outside on the street and basked in the warm night air and drank red wine out of a carafe and our waiter was even very patient and spoke French to us the whole time. (I’m convinced he thought we were cute and naive, and also our French is not that bad…) and it was as romantic as they say it is.  When dessert rolled around, I ordered île flottante, and upon hearing that Trevor did not want anything, our waiter winked at us and said “Ah, avec deux cuillères.”  And so we happily sat on the streetside in Paris, eating our floating meringue with two spoons.  D’aw.

Île flottante has three main components – crème anglaise, meringue, and caramel sauce.  I usually play with my recipes, perhaps a bit too much sometimes, but this recipe, which comes from David Leibovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris, was a teeny bit intimidating, and I really wanted it to be perfect, so I followed it exactly.  And perfect it was.  If you will, let me wax poetic about it, just for a minute: imagine, cold, thick, custardy crème anglaise, with a heady vanilla scent and just a little bit of sweetness.  Now add the best meringue you’ve ever had, poached, rather than baked, eggy and a bit salty, and so tender that it literally dissolves in your mouth.  Finish with a deeply burnt caramel sauce, thin and the tiniest bit smoky.  So, so good.

The only artistic license I took with it was actually not my doing, but Trevor’s.  See those incredible spun sugar toppings?  Aren’t they awesome?  Trevor rules.  Also they added the perfect burnt sugar crunch to the end product.  Just a note – if you decide to use them, which you should, especially if you want to impress someone – add them just before serving, as they begin to dissolve when they come into contact with moisture.

If I haven’t convinced you to try this yet, let me add one last comment – it wasn’t that hard.  Especially given how beautiful and delicious the final product was.  Plus, you can make all of the components ahead and the presentation won’t suffer a bit.  So, really, please, try this.  And also read The Sweet Life in Paris if you like either food or chocolate or France at all.  And now I’ll stop bossing you around and let you go on your way.

Île Flottante

from David Leibovitz’s “The Sweet Life in Paris”

(serves 4)

For the caramel:

  • 1 c. sugar
  • 3/4 c. water

Evenly spread sugar in a heavy-bottomed skillet or saucepan.  Cook over medium heat until sugar begins to liquefy.  Begin to stir gently to keep from burning.  Cook until all sugar has melted and turned a deep brown.  When it has begun to smoke slightly, remove from heat and carefully add the water, stirring.  Be warned: the water will make the hot sugar bubble fairly violently.  Return the pan to the heat and stir, breaking up any caramelized chunks, until caramel is smooth.  Cool completely, and refrigerate.  Lasts for a week.

For the crème anglaise:

  • 4 egg yolks
  • 1 1/2 c. whole milk*
  • 1/4 c sugar
  • 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise*

*Note:  I used 3/4 c. skim milk and 3/4 c. heavy cream because that’s what I had.  I also used 1 1/2 TBS of vanilla extract rather than a vanilla bean.  Results were very good.

  1. Prepare an ice bath: place a medium-large metal bowl or pot in a large bowl filled with ice-water.  Place a strainer over the top of the pot.
  2. In a medium bowl, whisk the egg yolks.
  3. Heat the milk, sugar, and vanilla in a saucepan over medium heat until very warm.  Remove just before it begins to simmer.
  4. Gradually pour the hot milk over the egg yolks, stirring constantly to prevent egg from scrambling.  Return egg and milk mixture to pan, and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly and scraping the edges, until custard begins to thicken.
  5. Remove from heat and pour immediately through strainer into chilled bowl/pot.  Let cool completely, and then refrigerate, covered, for up to three days.

For the meringue:

  • 4 egg whites, at room temperature
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 6 TBS sugar
  • pinch cream of tartar, optional
  1. Preheat oven to 325°F.  Very lightly oil a 2-quart loaf pan.  Set loaf pan inside a shallow roasting pan.
  2. Beat egg whites with electric mixer on medium speed until frothy.  Add salt and cream of tartar and continue beating, on high, until the whites start to hold their shape.  Add sugar one tablespoon at a time, beating meringue until it is stiff and shiny.
  3. Spread meringue into prepared loaf pan.  Use a damp spatula to smooth the top and press out any air pockets.
  4. Fill the roasting pan about halfway full with warm water.  Bake for 20-25 minutes [Book says 25, I had great results at 20], or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.  Cool in pan on wire rack.  When cool, carefully turn out onto a large plate or platter.  Keeps in fridge for a day or two.

To assemble:

Ladle chilled crème anglaise into bowls.  Using a damp knife, carefully slice meringue loaf into rectangles and float on top of crème anglaise.  Drizzle with room temperature caramel sauce.  Top with spun sugar, or toasted almonds.

1 Pasta

This was perfect.

And I almost never feel that way about anything I’ve made.  Good, often.  Really good, sometimes.  Perfect?  Infrequently.

I’m not gonna take much credit for it though* – the ingredients were perfect.  Sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, parmesan, basil, goat cheese, and fettucine?  Not my creations.  But I will be happy to use them anytime they decide to grace my kitchen.

I’m not feeling up for words today, so that’s all I’ve got.  I’m leaving you with these pictures, the recipes, and the suggestion that you try this the next time you’re craving something both bright and comforting.

*I take it back – I’m taking credit for the meatball part.  These were my creation and I’m proud.

Sun-Dried Tomato Turkey Meatballs with Sun-Dried Tomato and Goat Cheese Pesto Sauce

Sun-dried tomato turkey meatballs: (original/personal recipe, makes 15 large meatballs)

  • 1 1/4 lbs lean ground turkey
  • 1/2 c. bread crumbs
  • 1/3 c. chopped oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
  • 1/3 c. chopped fresh parsley
  • 1/4 c. grated fresh parmesan
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tsp dried oregano
  • 1/4 – 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • 1 egg, slightly beaten
  • 3 TBS milk
  1. Preheat oven to 375°F.  Grease a baking tray with cooking spray.
  2. In large bowl, mix bread crumbs, sun-dried tomatoes, parsley, parmesan, garlic, oregano, red pepper flakes and salt, until well combined.  Crack egg into bowl and beat lightly in it’s own well, then mix with rest of ingredients.  Add milk and mix to incorporate.
  3. Add the ground turkey and combine with bread crumb mixture using your hands.  Don’t overwork with your hands.  When combined, form into medium balls and place close together on the baking tray.
  4. Bake for 26 minutes, using tongs to flip/rotate halfway through.

Sun-dried tomato pesto with goat cheese and fettucine: (recipe inspired by Perry’s Plate)

  • 1 lb. box of fettucine
  • 1/2 c. oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
  • 1/4 c. pine nuts
  • 3 oz parmesan, cubed
  • 1 clove garlic, peeled
  • 1/2 c. basil, loosely packed
  • 3 oz. goat cheese
  1. Bring large pot of salted water to boil.  Cook fettucine according to package directions.
  2. In a food processor, combine sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, parmesan cheese, and garlic.  Pulse until coarse.  Add basil, as well as 3-4 TBS olive oil reserved from sun-dried tomato jar (or regular olive oil).  Continue to pulse.  Taste, and adjust ingredient ratios until flavor and texture are as desired.
  3. When pasta is done, drain, and immediately add goat cheese and 1/2 sun-dried tomato pesto to pot.  Stir to form thick sauce.  Garnish with fresh basil, and serve with sun-dried tomato turkey meatballs.

2 Recipe

Na Zdravi!

The Czech Republic is known for one thing above all others – beer.  And there’s a reason for that – green signs proudly announcing Staropramen or Pilsner Urquell hang outside every pub in the country, finding a $2 pint of fresh golden lager is stunningly easy, and the country’s citizens and their visitors consistently drink more beer per capita than any other country in the world.  But there’s more to this country’s drinking tradition than pivo.

In the early fall, there is burčak, a young, still fermenting wine that is cloudy and deliciously sweet.  Say you’ve taken the train out of the city for the day, to visit some 14th century ruin crumbling in the forest.  Disembarking from the train, you follow the dirt road that runs parallel to the tracks, following signs that say hrad, castle.  Outside of a small wooden house a woman stands with two huge vats of liquid, one a murky purple and the other the color of applesauce.  Burčak, the sign says, 30 crowns per liter.  You greet her, give her a handful of coins equivalent to $1.50, and in return she takes a huge plastic bottle and fills it to the brim with the sweet, bubbly nectar.  You continue down the road, taking swigs of the delicious drink, enjoying the crispness of fall.

It is later in the year, and the weather has gotten colder, closer, and grayer.  The cobbled streets and red roofs are still enchanting, but you crave warmth, camaraderie, and you begin to understand how drinking could become so important in a place like this.  One particularly cold and gray day you are hiking in Moravia, and the fog is so thick and wet and cold that you are soaked through with chill.  Through the mist a tiny wooden pub appears, and inside the yellow light and foreign shouting envelopes you with warmth.  You order medovina and find yourself holding a glass mug of steaming honey mead.  The hot fumes sting the inside of your nose, and when you take a sip, the slow spread of honeyed warmth throughout your chest dissolves the cold.

And now it is Christmas, and in the city square a giant tree sparkles.  Smells of roasting pork, candied nuts, and potato pancakes drift out of the wooden booths that fill the square.  It begins to snow, and the only sound is that of other people milling through the square, laughing.  It is your last night, and so you head to the nearest booth and order svařak, hot mulled wine.  You inhale the spicy sweetness that steams from the small Styrofoam cup.  Slowly sipping the pungent wine, you stand in the center of the square and look up – up at the night sky filled with silent snow, up at the giant tree twinkling with light, up at the proud spires of the cathedrals, up at the world you’ve come to cherish so much.  To no one in particular you raise your cup and toast, na zdravi! To you, Prague.

Svařak (Hot Mulled Wine)

Recipe adapted from Expats.cz

  • .75L (1 bottle) red wine (use something cheap and fruity)
  • 1-2 cinnamon sticks
  • 5-8 whole cloves
  • 1 small lemon, sliced
  • sugar, to taste

Heat wine, cinnamon sticks, and cloves in a large pot over medium heat.  Do not allow to boil, as the alcohol will burn off.  Flavor with sugar and lemon slices after the wine has reached the desired temperature.  You can also heat sugar with the wine and spices for a sweeter drink.  If you are lucky enough to be in the Czech Republic, you can’t do better than using the svařak seasoning packets sold in nearly every grocery store!

This post has been entered into the Grantourismo and HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition.

In the fall, there is burčak, a young, still fermenting wine that is cloudy and deliciously sweet.  Say you’ve taken the train out of the city for the day, to visit some 14th century ruin buried crumbling in the quiet forest.  Disembarking from the train, you follow the dirt road that runs parallel to it, most likely following signs that say hrad, castle.  Outside of a small wooden house a woman stands with two huge vats of liquid, one purple and one the color of applesauce.  Burčak, the sign says, 30 crowns.  You greet her, give her a handful of coins equivalent to $1.50, and in return she takes a 1-liter plastic bottle and fills it to the brim with the sweet, bubbly nectar.  You continue down the road, taking swigs of the delicious drink, enjoying the crispness of fall.It is later in the year, and the weather has gotten colder, closer, and grayer.  The cobbled streets and red roofs are still beautiful and comfortingenchanting, but you crave warmth, camaraderie, and you begin to understand how the heat of drinking could become so important in a place like this.  One particularly cold and gray day you are hiking in Moravia, the Western region of the country.  The and the fog is so thick and wet and cold that you are soaked through and shiveringwith chill.  Through the mist a tiny wooden church pub appears, and inside the yellow light and Russian chantingforeign shouting brings you to a different century altogetherenvelopes you with warmth.  Reluctantly, you make your way back through the cold and find yourself inside a wooden pub,You order medovina, and find yourself holding a glass mug of steaming medovina, honey mead.  The hot fumes sting the inside of your nose, as you lower your face over the cup, and when you take a sip, the slow spread of honeyed warmth throughout your chest dissolves the cold chases all the cold straight away.

And now it is Christmas, and in the city square a giant tree sparkles.  Smells of roasting pork, candied nuts, and potato pancakes drift out of the wooden booths that fill the square.  It begins to snow, and the only sound is that of other people milling through the square, laughing.  It is your last night, and so, you head to the nearest booth and order svařak, hot mulled wine.  You slowly inhale the spicy sweetness that steams from the small Styrofoam cup.  Sipping it slowly, you stand in the center of the square and look up, up at the night sky filled with silent snow, up at the giant tree twinkling with light, up at the proud spires of the cathedrals, up at the world you’ve come to cherish so much.  To no one in particular you raise your cup and toast, na zdravi!  To you, Prague.

0 Uncategorized

Sweet Potato Challenge

I’m doing a cleanse.  It’s called “the empty pantry cleanse for those without vehicles,” and it is generally not completed by choice.  The ingredients allowed in this particular cleanse are carrots, canned beans, lentils, dry grains, and flour/butter/eggs/vanilla/other baking ingredients that rarely disappear completely in a one person household.  So, you might argue that this cleanse is a lot less strict than the lemon juice and cayenne pepper “Master Cleanse,” but it also takes a whole heck of a lot more creativity than it does to mix the same four ingredients together for every meal for 2 weeks.  (Why on earth would someone think that was a good idea?)

Since malnourishment makes me prone to whining to Trevor (as does over-nourishment and a regular level of nourishment), he knows all about the depleted state of my kitchen.  And so, mid-whine, he challenged me.  You see, I left out one, very key, ingredient that I still hold in my fridge – two sweet potatoes.  Sweet potatoes are sort of a miracle food.  They can be the star of something sweet, or something savory.  Pair them with black beans and avocado and you’ve got southwestern comfort.  With chickpeas and cumin and you’re happily on your way to a middle-eastern delight.  With gorgonzola and sage and Italy is yours for the taking.  With marshmallows and brown sugar and you’ve probably created the quintessential American holiday dish.  So basically, if you’ve got sweet potatoes, you probably shouldn’t be complaining that you’re going to shrivel up and die before your boyfriend arrives with your parents’ gas-guzzling monster car that they are very kindly letting you borrow for the summer in a week.  Besides, real cleanses (see: Glamour, Self, Women’s Health) use them all the time.

The specifics of Trevor’s challenge where this: use the sweet potatoes and the carrots in a tart that doesn’t have an egg filling (i.e. quiche is cheating.)  Don’t use recipes.  Make it delicious.  Don’t tell anyone I’m associated with this (muahaha).

This is what I came up with: diced carrots and sweet potatoes glazed with a balsamic reduction, roasted, and baked into a walnut tart shell along with some gorgonzola cheese.  And how do I feel about it?  I am eating it.  It tastes good and is very flavorful.  I’m moderately convinced it’s good for me.  I would eat it again, although I think I would make it as a pot pie instead.  I wish the walnuts had come through more, so I might play with that next time.  And the last minute addition of a gorgonzola-brown-sugar topping really kicked it up a notch.  You should try it and let me know what you think.

To end on a fully positive note, I would like to admit that it’s actually been sort of a fun challenge, cooking with such a limited inventory.  Tuesday brought about a warm and spicy black bean soup, Wednesday produced this pea and barley risotto, today featured this tart, of course, and tomorrow… will probably involve half a can of refried beans and some canned peaches, but hey, I’ve done pretty well.

If you try this, or have any thoughts on possible modifications, let me know!

Balsamic Sweet Potato and Walnut Pie

(Original recipe.  There’s carrots in it too, but I couldn’t bring myself to put carrot and pie in the same sentence.)

For the crust:

  • 1/2 c. walnut pieces
  • 1 c. flour
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 1/2 tsp cinnamon
  • 3 TBS butter, cut into pieces and chilled
  • 6-8 TBS cold water
  1. Preheat oven to 400°F.
  2. Toast walnut pieces in pan over medium heat, or in preheating oven in pie dish for 5-7 minutes, until fragrant.
  3. In a food processor, pulse together flour, toasted walnuts, salt, and cinnamon, until blended.  Add cold butter and pulse into mixture is mealy, with pea-sized chunks.
  4. Transfer flour mixture to large bowl, and add chilled water 1 TBS at a time, stirring gently with a fork after each addition.  Add water until dough comes together to form a loose ball.
  5. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and chill for at least half an hour.
  6. Roll dough out to 1/4 inch thick on lightly floured surface.  Transfer crust to pie plate, and bake for 10-15 minutes.  No need for foil and pie weights; the walnuts make the crust dense enough that it doesn’t bubble.

For the filling:

  • 1/3 c. balsamic vinegar
  • 1/3 c. red wine
  • 1 TBS honey
  • 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
  • 1 TBS butter
  • 7-10 medium-large carrots, peeled and cubed
  • 1-2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
  • 2 TBS olive oil
  • 1/3 c. gorgonzola cheese crumbles
  • 2 TBS brown sugar
  1. In a small saucepan over medium-high heat, bring vinegar, red wine, honey, and salt to a boil.  Simmer, stirring frequently, for 8-12 minutes, until it has reduced to about 1/2 c. and is slightly thicker.  Add butter, continue to cook for one minute, and remove from heat.
  2. Place prepared sweet potato and carrot chunks in a large roasting pan.  Drizzle with olive oil and vinegar reduction.  Stir to coat.
  3. Roast vegetables (400°F, from pie crust step) for 45-60 minutes, until fully tender, stirring halfway through to prevent burning.
  4. When vegetables are done, remove and place in pie crust, draining excess liquid (don’t put the extra vinegar in your pie or it will disintegrate).  Sprinkle with gorgonzola and brown sugar, and return to oven for 5-10 minutes, or until cheese and brown sugar have melted.

6 Dessert

Peanut Butter Birthday

Wednesday, May 12, 2010, is not today.  It was yesterday, and it was Trevor’s 21st birthday.  However, due to the annoying college tradition of final exams, said birthday had to be ceremonially transferred to tonight, when, if all goes according to plan, it will be celebrated to the nth degree.  You see, not only is Trevor very awesome and worthy of celebrating, I also feel that my birthday was not celebrated to the appropriate extent, mainly because I was sober throughout the entire 24 hours of April 18, 2010.  Fairly to extremely unacceptable.  And so, I am doing a bit of birthday pilfering.  Selfish, perhaps, but excusable, IMO, and approved by the true birthday child.  (Side note: it is not actually possible to celebrate my birthday enough – it should be at least a month long event, preferably two.  This fact can be readily confirmed by my mother.)

In light of all this joyous aging, I am, duh, baking a cake.  The cake came into hypothetical being 10 days ago while skyping, when I casually said, “maybe I’ll bake a cake for your birthday,” and Trevor’s eyes got very wide.  “Peanut butter cake?”  I ventured, to which there was some enthusiastic nodding and even more eye widening.  I would like to make it clear at this point that Trevor actually does communicate verbally at a very high intelligence level, but has been characterized as a mute but very excited 7 year old boy for the sake of my writing style.  Thank you Trevor, you’re very patient and I would like to publicly admit that you’re better at scrabble than me.

And so peanut butter cake it was.  I searched the good old internet which contains more recipes than I thought possible and found that there are basically two blogosphere accepted options for peanut butter cake.  The first is Smitten Kitchen’s chocolate peanut butter cake, which is actually a chocolate cake with peanut butter filling and peanut butter frosting which is then drizzled with chocolate peanut butter glaze.  Decadent, visually appealing, rave reviews across the board.  The second option is Bon Appetit’s peanut butter cake, which is truly a peanut butter cake with a chocolate peanut butter filling.  Also decadent, visually appealing, and well-received.  The decision was agonizing.  So agonizing, in fact, that exactly 19 hours before my statistics final I decided that it was absolutely necessary that I bake samples.  So I made tiny portions of both cake batters, and combined them with peanut butter, melted chocolate, chocolate chips, and each other in ten different cupcakes.  The truth is clearly that I hate statistics (but I got a B+!) and that I must have some subconscious hatred/sabotage plan for my roommate’s waistline.  Or maybe just my own.

Anyhow, the result of this baking frenzy were ten cupcakes that were all different.  Meaning that I had to eat a portion of each cupcake to see which one would be the chosen one.  And then eat another bite of each to make sure.  Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.  They disappeared in chunks the same way brownies do when I make the mistake of leaving the knife in the pan instead of pre-cutting them.  (This happens every time I make brownies; it is not a mistake.)

And they were all good!  Life is so difficult with me sometimes.  Really, it is.  The chocolate was super moist, got better a day later, and had that slight tang that devil’s food cake has.  I don’t even like chocolate cake and I loved it.  The peanut-butter was drier, but it tasted just like a really good peanut butter cookie in the form of a cake, which was really my initial goal.  Trevor’s a sucker for peanut-butter – favorite ice cream, favorite cookie, favorite meal, favorite color, etc. – and so I knew it had to be in the cake.  I briefly toyed with a marbled cake but the flavors didn’t stand out from one another in the cupcake, or a layer of each, but the textures were to different for it to be coherent.  At this point, Trevor is probably so tired of hearing about all the possible forms this cake might take that he doesn’t want it anymore.  I’m not very good at surprises.

Anyway, I made the peanut butter cake.  I agonized a little bit over the frosting too, but I won’t go into it.  In the end I followed the original recipe fairly closely, reducing the filling amount and adjusting the flour and buttermilk amounts as suggested by the majority reviewer voice on epicurious.  The only concerns I have left are how it will taste after 21 beers, and where I can hide it from the myriad of drunk frisbee players that will be roaming the streets of Medford tonight.  Now you may be wondering, “isn’t it a waste to spend more than a week thinking about baking and then actually baking a cake that will most likely be consumed in handfuls during a drunken midnight kitchen raid?”  No, not really.  That’s kind of the point of turning 21 anyway.

So, happy birthday boyfriend!  (And me, because I would like to remind everyone again that it is almost always the right time to celebrate your own birth.  End of selfish.)  I hope you have a wonderful night, and year, and I love you.  Tu es mon étincelle.

Peanut Butter Cake with Chocolate Filling

Adapted from Bon Appetit

For the Filling

  • 1 c. half and half
  • 3/4 c. heavy cream
  • 1/4c. + 2 TBS light brown sugar
  • 1/2 c. peanut butter
  • 9 oz bittersweet chocolate

Bring half and half, cream, and brown sugar to simmer over medium heat, whisking constantly.  Once simmering, remove from heat, and whisk in chocolate until mixture is smooth.  Allow to stand for one minute, then whisk in peanut butter until mixture is smooth.  Chill for 2-4 hours.

For Frosting

  • 12 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
  • 2 c. powdered sugar, divided
  • 6 TBS butter, softened
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 3/4 c. heavy cream, chilled
  1. With an electric mixer, beat cream cheese, 1 1/4 c. powdered sugar, butter, and vanilla until smooth.
  2. Beat heavy cream and remaining 3/4 c. of powdered sugar until medium-firm peaks form.
  3. Fold whipped cream into cream cheese mixture until evenly combined.  Chill for at least 2 hours.

For the Cake

  • 2 c. all purpose flour
  • 1 tsp baking soda
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 10 TBS butter, softened
  • 2/3 c. peanut butter
  • 2 1/2 c. light brown sugar (1 lb.)
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 1/3 c. buttermilk
  1. Preheat oven to 350°F.  Butter two 9-inch cake pans.
  2. In medium bowl whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together to combine.
  3. In large bowl whisk peanut butter and butter together until smooth.  Add sugar and beat until smooth.  Add eggs 1 at a time and incorporate into batter.
  4. Add flour mixture and buttermilk to peanut butter in 3 additions, alternating and ending with a buttermilk addition.
  5. Pour batter into pans, distributing evenly.  Bake for 25-30 minutes.  Let cool in pan for 5 minutes, then remove from pan and let cool completely before assembly.

Assembly

On a wide plate or cake platter, place the first layer of cake.  Spread with layer of chocolate filling.  Place second layer on top of chocolate filling, pressing gently.  Frost cake with cream cheese frosting.  Chill cake until 1 hour before serving.

0 Recipe

A Summer Pizza – Rosemary, Grapes, and Chevre

This pizza isn’t really a pizza. It’s more like an elegant, France-inspired summer appetizer that just happens to take the form and name of a pizza.  The stars of this pizza are surprising – pungent rosemary is mixed with fresh, juicy grapes and baked onto a flatbread with creamy goat cheese.  The result is top notch – warm, creamy, sweet, and earthy all at once.

When I decided to write about this pizza I was going to tell you a story about rosemary, a story about a dreamy day spent in Southern France climbing a hillside covered in wild rosemary to watch the sunset over the Mediterranean.  It’s a beautiful story, but I realized that it just doesn’t go with this pizza.  It’s a story for a different day.  So you’ll have to be content with the pizza for now and someday I’ll find the right words and the right flavors to convey that beautiful day in Cassis.

The story that does go with this pizza could be a number of things, and it could belong to anyone.  It’s a Saturday in the end of May, and dusk is just falling, filling the neighborhood with a purply-gray calm.  You’ve spent the day running around barefoot playing like you’re still 12, and the soles of your feet are black and rough.  The fact that it’s summer and it’s nighttime fills you with a childish, uninhibited energy.  You fire up the grill, throw this pizza together on top of naan, and in 10 minutes you have a cheesy and sweet grilled pizza that finishes the day perfectly.  Suddenly you are very tired and you fall contently into bed with the warm night breeze coming through the window.

Alternate version:  It’s a Saturday in the end of May, and you’re sitting on the porch swing watching the light grow yellower as the sun begins to set.  You drink a chilled glass of white wine and feel supremely light and at ease.  You go into the kitchen, turn on the oven, roll out some dough, and in ten minutes you have an elegantly flavored, light dinner that will go perfectly with your second glass of wine.  You return to the porch, and continue to sit and eat and drink and rest as the gentle evening breeze plays with the edges of your sundress and drifts through your hair.

Forgive my romanticism; it’s inescapable.  Go ahead and choose your own story.  But make this pizza.

Rosemary, Grape, and Chevre Pizza

Adapted slightly from Cookie via Epicurious

  • 1 recipe of pizza dough, or 2 pre-made naans
  • 2-3 cups of green grapes, washed and halved
  • 5-6 oz goat cheese
  • 2 TBS rosemary, chopped finely
  • 2 TBS olive oil
  • 2 tsp kosher salt
  1. Preheat oven to 450°F (if using dough).
  2. Mix grapes, 1 TBS olive oil, and rosemary together in a medium bowl.
  3. Roll out pizza dough.  Brush dough (or naans) with remaining tablespoon of oil.  Sprinkle kosher salt on top of oil.
  4. Top dough/naans with grape mixture.  Crumble goat cheese over grapes.
  5. If using dough, bake for 9-12 minutes, removing when edges of crust and goat cheese begin to brown.  If using naan, simply broil for 5 minutes.

(I make this pizza in the oven, but if you wish you can use naan or pre-baked your crusts, then top with grapes and cheese and place on grill for 5 minutes)

0 Recipe

Lemongrass, Edamame, and Winning

The internet gods have been smiling down on me.  Sometimes, when I don’t feel like exercising, or doing my homework, or socializing, or doing my finances and realizing all of the things that I can’t buy, I enter contests.  Like, I hunt them down and enter them.  OK, maybe its not that extreme, but its sort of fun to daydream about places you’ve never been and books you don’t have when there’s the tiniest hint of real possibility there.  And this weekend, within the time span of 12 hours, I was the lucky winner of not one but two contests.  Me.  Winning.  On the internet.  Even better than winning the party.  And who do I have to thank for this wealth of good luck (besides the internet gods of course)?  Number 1, Pam at Project Foodie, for hosting a wonderful cookbook giveaway while running their annual James Beard Cookbook Awards nomination guide.  I will now be pastry-ing with much greater expertise with the help of The French Culinary Institute.  And number 2, thank you to Georgina at Culinary Travels for hosting a fun mortar and pestle giveaway, which I am very excited to be the winner of.   One day, this blog will be big enough that I’ll be able to host my own giveaways.  That’s mah goal.  But let’s be honest, I’d be just as happy winning stuff forever.

So with that little internet gratitude spiel out of the way, let’s get down to business.  Business this week involves not eating so much damn chocolate and purchasing only the things on my grocery list, which does not include a 6 pack of klondike bars and a box of red velvet cake slices.  Business this week involves things like edamame and bean sprouts.  And lemongrass, which is my food-I’ve-never-had-before of the week.  (Last week was artichokes, the week before that was radishes.  You miss out on a lot when you’re a white bread kid.)  Business this week involves using all that time I have from not taking finals to run and cook protein and veggie rich meals… I mean to study.  Business this week involves a lot of motivation from self.com.  Yes, you got it, it’s a week of healthy(-er than usual) living.  Please hold me accountable.

So about that lemongrass.

Lemongrass is a tall, grass-like plant native to India, and is most often associated with Thai cuisine.  It is used like an herb to flavor curries, soups, and to make tea, and it smells incredible.  Plus, it has cancer-fighting properties.  Big win for lemongrass.  Lemongrass is playing its part in my kitchen this week as the co-star of a lemongrass-ginger chicken dish.  The chicken came out sweet, a little bit punchy, and very tender.  I would make it again but not in a huge hurry.  The marinade smelled and tasted delicious on its own though, so I might use it as a dressing or sauce for a curry dish or stir fry.  There are possibilities here.

And the edamame?

Edamame, soybeans that are harvested while they’re still young and green, have a myriad of health benefits.  They’re a complete protein and are high in fiber, meaning they’re extremely filling, but a half cup serving only contains 120 calories.  They’re full of vitamin C, and they’re good for your heart, your bones, your kidney, your cholesterol, and probably everything else too.  I used them in a light salad recipe that was a great surprise – it was fresh, bright, filling, and packed with flavor and texture.  I will now be making it all the time, and since it only takes 5 minutes and a handful of ingredients, I recommend you try it too.  Its really good.  Like, really.

So thus began my healthful week.  I may have accidentally maybe also baked and possibly consumed a strawberry-rhubarb crumble to follow the edamame and chicken meal, but I’m blaming that entirely on the rock-bottom strawberry prices.  And the fact that strawberries happen to taste delicious when baked in sugar and lemon juice and covered with crumbly buttery topping.  Which isn’t my fault.  But I’ll try not to let it happen again… this week.

Lemongrass-Ginger Chicken

Adapted very slightly from SELF

  • 4 skinless boneless chicken breasts
  • 3 stalks fresh lemongrass
  • 2 medium shallots, peeled and quartered
  • 1 inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled
  • 1/4 c. canola oil
  • 1/4 c. fresh lime juice
  • 2 TBS brown sugar
  • 1 TBS soy sauce
  • 1 tsp ground coriander
  • 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
  • 1 tsp black pepper
  1. Prepare the lemongrass: peel the tough outer leaves of the stalk off so that the softer, yellow part is exposed.  Remove the bulb by cutting about an inch off of the bottom of the stalk.  Discard bulb.  Slice remainder of stalk into 1 inch pieces, stopping after 3/4 of the stalk has been removed.  Discard the top 1/4 of the stalk (green, leafy), or save and use as garnish or to flavor soups/curries.  Don’t eat the top part of the stalk.  See about.com for picture guide to preparing lemongrass.
  2. Place prepared lemongrass, shallots, ginger, canola oil, lime juice, brown sugar, soy sauce, coriander, salt, and pepper in blender or food processor.  Blend/process until smooth.
  3. Place chicken in large ziploc bag.  Pour marinade over chicken and close bag.  Gently shake/squeeze bag to coat chicken thoroughly with marinade.  Place chicken in fridge for at least 1 and up to 6 hours.
  4. Remove chicken from fridge.  Heat a small amount of canola oil over medium-high heat in large frying pan.  Place chicken breasts in pan and cook for 2 minutes on each side.  Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook chicken until it is cooked through, about 6 minutes per side.

Edamame and Corn Salad

Adapted from SELF

  • 1 c. frozen corn
  • 1 c. frozen edamame
  • 1/2 large red onion, diced
  • 3 TBS chopped fresh cilantro
  • 1 TBS olive oil
  • 1 1/2 TBS fresh lemon juice
  • 1 inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  1. Cook edamame according to package instructions.  Let cool slightly.
  2. Mix all ingredients in medium bowl, tasting as you go and adjusting proportions accordingly.
  3. Refrigerate and serve cold.