Three-Bean Chili (and nachos, too)

With the Super Bowl quickly approaching, I have a pressing question for you: Do you ever do the menu visualization trick when you're in a restaurant that isn't, well, a fine dining establishment? 

You know, the dive-y, pubby places where you just know that the kitchen staff cuts the package open, pours it into the Fryolator, and sends it out as your meal? The type of place where one might go to watch a Big Game, but not to have a big culinary experience? 

While we're likely to watch the game at home or at a friend's house, thus avoiding sports bar or pub food on the big day, I did recently practice The Art of Junk Food Visualization while out for lunch with JR and his brother. It went something like this:
 
Nachos. Cue the thought bubble: Hmmmmm. Nachos. Towering pile of oversalted chips, lots of melted processed cheese food, tasteless, flaccid sliced olives...okay. Pop. The bubble has burst. I've just used the word "flaccid" in describing a possible meal.

Boneless chicken wings. Pensive look, forefinger and thumb on chin: Now why do they bother to call them wings? Everyone knows that once they're boneless, they're called fingers. Do I trust frozen boneless chicken wing-fingers to taste like actual chicken? No. Probably not.

I was becoming agitated, as evidenced by the fidgeting in my chair, plus my eyes had gone all squinty and were darting nervously across the menu. Would I ever find a meal here that passed muster? One by one, little fried food thought bubbles burst, exploded, or simply evaporated. Poof.

This went on for about 20 minutes. My options had dwindled, waitstaff was starting to wonder about the floating bubble remnants near my head, JR and his brother were famished - so was I - and I had to pull the trigger to stop the hunger pangs.

Calamari with hot peppers. Back to the thought bubble: How bad could these be? They're already breaded, everyone in the known universe of Pubdom is using the same type from the same calamari-in-freezer-bag vendor, right? If nothing else, at least they won't be flaccid.

If only that were the case.

When I was about two bites into the calamari, JR looked over at me and asked, "Well? How are they?"

I put my napkin up in front of my mouth to prevent the rest of the patrons from reading my lips, and replied in a hoarse whisper, "These are the absolute worst calamari I've ever had in my entire life."

"Entire life?"

"Entire life. They taste like calamari porridge."

They were flaccid. And mushy. Even the hot peppers lacked crunch. 

Calamari porridge. What's that conjure up in your head? Yeah. Trust me. They were that bad and then some.

Add to that, my junk food craving had not been sated. 

The thought bubble reappeared as I drove to the grocery store a few days later: Three-bean chili. On nacho chips. With real cheese. Yum.

It was a done deal. And it's now been done six weekend days in a row. What? Why are you looking at me like that? It's football playoff season. It requires game food. Even on the non-game weekend before Super Bowl. 

And if we're going to have game food, let's make it good game food, shall we? Thankfully, this chili fits the bill.

It's fab as a stand-alone chili, and when the thought cloud comes out for 3-Bean Chili-topped nachos, nary a nasty thought can be found within the cloud. In fact, I think the bubble is extra-sharp cheddar cheese-lined, which has got to be better than silver lined, right?

Quick Three-Bean Chili

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
2 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 chile in adobo sauce, finely chopped
2 tablespoons adobo sauce (from the chiles packed in adobo)

1 pound ground beef, turkey, or pork
(1) 15.5 ounce can pinto beans, drained
(1) 15.5 ounce can kidney beans, drained
(1) 15.5 ounce can black beans, drained
(1) 28 ounce can fire-roasted diced tomatoes (you can use regular diced or crushed tomatoes. I've tried all 3 and prefer the fire-roasted diced, but it's all about what you like best)

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and saute until the onion has softened and has become translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the cumin, chopped chile, and adobo sauce, and stir to combine.

Add the ground meat and cook, stirring frequently, until it is browned. Add the pinto, kidney, and black beans, then add the tomatoes, and mix the whole batch up well.

Cover and let the chili simmer for at least 20 minutes before serving it forth. And when you do serve it forth, perhaps you'd enjoy it with sour cream, grated cheese, green onions, and cilantro. Or maybe with additional chiles. 

Mmmmm. Melted Cheese. Mmmmmm. Toasty Tortillas. Mmmmmm. Chili. Mmmmmm.

Or then, there's always the nachos-at-home option. Mound the chili in the center of a baking dish, surround the chili mound with your favorite tortilla chips (so as to avoid mushy/flaccid tortilla chips, which is what happens when they're placed under the chili), then grate a couple of ounces of cheese (or so) over the pile. Bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit until the cheese melts and the chips start to brown, approximately 15 minutes.

Feast of the Seven Fishes

Anchovy crostini. Oddly, not the overwhelming hit I had expected them to be. Shocking.

"You have to post the menu," my sister-in-law informed me on Christmas day. "I mean, that was totally redonk."

You know it's redonk, too, when mid-brunch - mid giant smorgasbord of choices brunch on Christmas day, your family is reviewing their favorite of the seven fishes.

"The scallops. The scallops were my favorite," my brother said, "Well, the scallops and the salmon."

"I liked the lobster dish best," my mother chimed in.

"How 'bout the anchovies? Anchovies aren't topping anyone's list?" I asked, mock incredulously, because, despite my wanting to believe otherwise, apparently no one in my family loves anchovies as much as I love anchovies.

Then I reminded them of the tuna dip.

"Oh, yes, yes, the tuna dip. We wiped out the tuna dip. That was good."

My family has traditionally been a very red sauce Christmas Eve kind of clan. We like our charcuterie and cheese plate for a little sophistication, but our typical Christmas Eve centered around meatballs, sausage, lasagne, calzone - you know, red saucy things.

But this year, a change was in order. The challenge of serving seven fishes beckoned me. It had to be done.

I did some research. I read an article. Well, okay, two. That certainly doesn't make me an expert, but generally, it sounded like a do-as-you-like kind of fish fest. So long as there are seven, you've done it correctly.

Easy, right?

Well, that depends. As is my usual holiday denial way, I left most of the menu planning to the last possible minute. Or at least to the day before the 24th. 

At the fishmonger's on the 23rd with nary a plan, I ordered little neck clams (a bargain at $3.99 per pound), scallops (18 pieces, enough for 3 for each person), beautiful strips of salmon, salt cod from Canada, then debated langoustines or lobster. After a quick look at the langoustines, which were a less expensive option (trying to work the thrifty even at the holidays, I am), I went with a live local lobster.

Next stop, my favorite Italian market, where the charcuterie and cheese plate purchases were made (it's not like we could do a wholesale reversal of family tradition, after all), as well as olive oil marinated anchovies.

By the time I arrived home, the menu looked like this. In my head, anyway:

• Orange-marinated anchovy crostini with goat cheese, raisins, and toasted pine nuts
• Lemony Tuna-Artichoke dip
• Scallops with homemade bacon (thank you, Charcutepalooza)
• Butter-sauteed lobster frittata
• Butter-poached salmon with Meyer lemons
• Clams in spicy tomato sauce with garlic toasts (doh! red sauce!)
• Salt cod fish and chips (the idea to do "Italian-style" fish and chips is one that I robbed from a restaurant menu in Florence. I haven't had their version, and the one we made here was decent, but could use a little more work.)

Despite this plan, the lobster frittata was causing me fits. I was concerned about overcooking the lobster as the frittata baked, and serving rubbery, stringy lobster, which could lead to protests and a call for a return to red sauce on the part of my guinea pigs - um, family. After all, they hadn't requested a radical change to our Christmas Eve menu.


At about 2am on December 24th, after mulling over all of my possible egg and lobster options, I settled upon shirred eggs on toasted brioche, topped with lobster. 


By 8am, I had changed course slightly, and could be found stuffing brioche into the bottom of 12 muffin tins, topping the brioche with minced shallot and fresh thyme, pouring in lightly beaten eggs, then baking this concoction until the eggs had puffed up (like muffins, even), and had become golden brown at the edges. My mother thought they looked like popovers, which they did, but we'll call them:


Butter-sauteed lobster on eggy brioche pudding with creme fraiche and green onions


How's that sound? I'm still not 100% sold on it, but they have to be named something, right?

Yep. Just like a popover.

Most of these dishes need another testing before they can be posted here, but the tuna dip is a variation on the artichoke-lemon dip found here, yet fished up for the holiday. It takes about 10 minutes to assemble, another 30 minutes to bake until bubbly.

Store brands! Lemon!

Lemony Tuna-Artichoke dip:

butter for greasing the baking dish
(1) 5-ounce can tuna packed in water, drained (Whole Foods carries canned tuna that is pole and troll caught, which is the most sustainable method of fishing according to Monterey Bay Aquarium)
(1) 14-ounce can artichoke hearts, packed in water, drained, chopped coarsely
1 medium shallot, finely chopped
the zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/8 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons freshly grated Pecorino-Romano
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Lightly grease a small baking dish with butter.

Combine the tuna, chopped artichokes, shallot, lemon zest, lemon juice, red pepper flakes, and mayonnaise in the baking dish and stir well to combine, being sure that all of the ingredients are coated with mayonnaise.

Season with salt and pepper, then sprinkle the Pecorino-Romano over the top of the mixture. 

Bake the dip until it is beginning to bubble, and the top is golden brown, approximately 30 minutes. Serve it forth with buttery crackers or crispy toasts.

Shutterfly Photo Book Giveaway

one of the recipes in my Shutterfly photo book: Lemon-Blueberry Muffins

One Christmas, many, many years ago (way back when everyone shot film - remember that?), I had wanted to make a recipe book for my sister as a Christmas gift. 

Of course, I wanted the recipe book to have photos, and with my usual poor holiday planning leaving just a few weeks until the big day, that meant quickly making the food, shooting photos, having those photos developed, scanning them, creating a layout in Photoshop, and then finding a way to print and bind the book that wasn't going to be cheesy. 

I know that this will shock you, but despite my best intentions, no homemade recipe book did my sister receive.

To continue reading, click here.

Apple-Cinnamon Crostata

We're all down to the last hours of preparation for the big Thanksgiving feast, so I'll keep this quick and to the point. Crostata, the Italian relative of the French galette, is a rustic tart that provides all of the flakiness of a good pie, only without the blind baking process.

From the time you start mixing the dough until the moment the crostata emerges from the oven, it will take around an hour and 45 minutes. Twenty minutes or so to make the dough and get the apples sliced up, 30 minutes while the dough rests and apples macerate, another 10 minutes to roll out the dough and fill it, and 40 to 45 minutes for baking.

To speed things up further, you could use frozen puff pastry dough, and keep the crostata more rectangular than oval in shape.

See? Very flaky.

Apple-Cinnamon Crostata, serves 12 to 16

Dough:

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into pea-sized pieces

8 tablespoons (1/2 cup) cold shortening, cut into pea-sized pieces

3/4 cup to 1 cup cold water

Apple filling:

6 medium apples (approximately 2 pounds), peeled, cored, and cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch slices

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1/4 cup raisins (optional), soaked in warm water for 10 minutes and drained before being added to the apple mixture

Cream wash and sugar for sprinkling:

2 tablespoons light cream or milk to brush over the crust before baking

1 tablespoon turbinado sugar for dusting the crust

In a large bowl, combine the flours, sugar, baking powder, and salt, mixing well to distribute all of these dry ingredients. 

Add the butter and shortening to the flour mixture. Work the flour from the bottom of the bowl up to the top, distributing the butter and shortening pieces evenly throughout the flour mix. Gently squash any larger-than-pea-sized pieces of butter or shortening you come across.

Using a fork, add the ice-cold water a tablespoon at a time until the dough just comes together. Form the dough into a ball.

Place a piece of plastic wrap of approximately 9-by-12 inches on your work surface. Turn the dough out onto the plastic wrap, and flatten it into a thick round. Cover the dough round with the plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the apples, sugar, and cinnamon, and set them aside so that the apples can macerate for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Get out your 10-by-15 inch rimmed baking sheet.

Roll the dough out on a lightly floured piece of parchment paper that is slightly larger than your 10-by-15 inch baking sheet. 

I typically use the plastic wrap from the refrigerator resting time to cover the top of the dough while rolling it out, as I think it works a little better than dusting the rolling pin with flour.

Working from the center of the dough round, roll out the dough to a misshapen rectangle approximately 10-by-15 inches. 

Once the dough is rolled out, remove the plastic wrap from the top of the dough, some bits of dough will stick to the plastic wrap, but our crostata is rustic, so don't fret over a little thing like that.

Slide the parchment paper with the dough onto the baking sheet, add the plumped raisins to the apple mixture, stir well, then fill the dough with the apples.

Place the apples and their accumulated juices in the middle of the misshapen dough rectangle, spreading the apples around so that there is a 1-inch apple-free border of dough. Working from the long sides first, fold the dough border back over the apples, then fold the dough border on the short ends over the apples, tucking the corners up and over the dough to seal the apples in, leaving a center of exposed apples.

Pour the cream or milk into a small bowl, then brush it over the crust. Sprinkle the crust with the turbinado sugar, and bake until the crust is golden brown and the apples are bubbling, 40 to 45 minutes. Remove the crostata from the oven and allow it to cool for 15 minutes before slicing away. 

 

While we're talking crostatas, galettes, tarts, and desserts, if you're looking for a savory tart for the holiday (or for after the holiday), try Alison Lewis' fabulous-looking beetroot, goat cheese, and hazelnut tart, and if you're looking for something a little sweeter, perhaps with bourbon and chocolate (yowza!), check out Rebecca Lang's Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Sweet and Spicy Candied Butternut Squash

A couple weeks ago, while prepping my wares (and foodstuffs, too) to teach a cooking class at the very lovely Hotel Providence (with an incredibly fun group of students and the amazing ladies of Hotel Providence, Trish and Sarah, assisting), I realized that I needed to gather some ingredients for our day-of-class lunch salad.

Being squash-obsessive as I am, there was plenty of butternut squash stashed in the pantry, so I peeled one, sliced it thinly, drizzled it with olive oil, coated it in honey, and added a little crushed red pepper and fresh thyme to the mix.

On the day of the class, the squash was such a hit both with and without the greens that I should have doubled the recipe (this is a warning, please heed it if you and yours also love squash).

I've made this no fewer than four times in the last week (I did say we had plenty of butternut squash on hand, you'll remember), have eaten it as a side dish, and with greens, goat cheese, dried cranberries, and walnuts in a salad. I have also eaten it as a snack before dinner, and might have had a slice after coffee the other morning.

And no, I am not sick of it. Much to the contrary, my friend. Much to the contrary.

In fact, I feel compelled to make this for our Thanksgiving turkey-in-a-hole-in-the-ground feast - a feast for which (sidenote alert, in the event that the dash after "feast" and before "a" didn't give it away) JR and I raised the turkey, all 36 pounds of him. We're a little proud of this, as he is a beauty. The owner of the slaughter facility even made a point of telling us both what a nice looking turkey we had raised after it was dressed out, fueling the flames of our homesteader geek-pride. End sidenote.

Annnnnd...back to the butternut. Let's make it, shall we? The solid pieces of squash from its neck are easier to cut thin, so be sure to look for a squash with a long neck to make your butternut slicing life less taxing.

Once you have a long-necked squash, cut the neck crosswise into smaller sections, then cut those sections in half lengthwise, so that you have half-round chunks of butternut squash. This will make the slicing safer, as you'll have a flat side of the squash to place securely down on your cutting board.

oooooh - sparkly.

Sweet and Spicy Candied Butternut Squash
Serves 4 to 6 (2 to 3 if your peeps go crazy for it, which might undermine the value aspect, but, heck, it is a holiday, after all)


(1) 3- to 4-pound squash with a long neck. Peel the bad boy, scoop out the seeds, follow the tips above about divvying up the neck, then slice the squash crosswise into 1/4-inch pieces.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1/8 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Line two 9- by 13-inch rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a large mixing bowl, toss the squash, olive oil, honey, thyme, and crushed red pepper flakes together. Pour the squash onto the baking sheets so that they are in a single layer. Season the squash with pepper.

Roast until the squash cooked through and is easily pierced with a fork, and is just starting to brown at the edges, 40 to 45 minutes, turning the squash over 20 minutes into the cooking time.

Toward the end of the cooking time (35 minutes into it, or so), peek in on the squash to be sure that the pieces closest to the edge of the pan aren't over-browning. Thin slices and those at the edges can cross the line from candied to burnt and blackened, a la overcooked campfire marshmallows, quickly at the end of the cooking time, so if some slices appear to be significantly darker than other slices, move them to the middle of the pan or remove those darker slices from the oven.

Serve the butternut squash forth, either as a side dish, or as an addictive salad topping.

Estimated cost for candied butternut squash: $6.84, or $1.71 per serving for 4 people, $1.14 for six people. The butternut squash costs 79-cents per pound, so 4 pounds is $3.16. The olive oil is your everyday cooking olive oil, so that should cost no more than 12-cents per tablespoon, 24-cents for this dish. It would be great if the honey used was local honey, and at around $8.00 for 16-ounces, with 1.375 tablespoons per ounce, 4 tablespoons will cost us $2.75. If using supermarket brands, the cost will be around half of that, so $1.38. We'll use the higher cost for the tally, just to be on the safe side. The crushed red pepper flakes should cost around 3-cents, though if you like a little more heat, you could increase the measurement to 1/4 teaspoon for 6-cents. It would be great if you had bought a thyme plant and grew it in a pot that you're now keeping indoors, as the $4.00 for the plant at the beginning of the season would have more than paid off by now, but if not, you'll be using no more than a quarter of a package of fresh thyme that costs $2.49, or 63-cents.