5 second rule

Overdue

 

I've had a giveaway copy of Almost Meatless on my desk for months.  I'm looking at it now, and I swear, even with its pleasant lilacky cover, I think it's giving me the finger.

See, Ten Speed Press mailed me the book back in July, but as Tara Mataraza Desmond, the book's co-author (along with Joy Manning), had already sent me a copy, I vowed to give the extra one away. 

Remember when I wrote about the book's spicy albondigas? Well, last night, I made the corn and cod cakes, and here's what happened: they puffed out their barrelly chests, yanked the pedestals from under the meatballs, and laughed in the albondigas' faces.  The crowd went wild.  When it was all over, my kitchen was littered with broken, handmade signs that read, simply, "fishcakes rule."

So I figure the time is now ripe, if not overripe, to raffle off the book. And in a sign that the universe agrees with me, Publishers Weekly just named Almost Meatless one of the best food books of 2009.

The winner will be chosen at random from the comments below.  This means that as funny or thoughtful as you may be, you won't stand any greater chance of winning than someone who just writes, "Give me the book, and by the way, I find you annoying."

Here's the question:

If you eat meat, would you like to eat less?  Why or why not?  If you don't eat meat, when/why did you stop?

Contest ends Friday when I go to sleep.

p.s. The recipe for the corn and cod cakes is online here.  They are absolutely beautiful, and magically delicious.

p.p.s. Non sequitur: if for some unfathomable reason you want to read more about me, I was interviewed yesterday on Wasabimon here. Take some time to poke around Stephanie's lovely site.

Grandmas

I sat next to a very, very old lady yesterday.  I don't say this lightly, or disrespectfully: she was 94, and in my book, that's old.  My kids were playing in a piano recital at a local nursing home, and she pushed her walker right up to me and took the seat next to mine.  When the concert was over, she folded my hand in hers and called me "lovely." 

Old people like me.  I have no idea why, frankly, because most young people could take me or leave me, but old people generally find me agreeable.  

Which makes it doubly sad that all of my natural grandparents died more than 10 years ago.  Happily, I have phenomenal step-grandparents, and they like me well enough.  Three cheers for divorce!  If my parents hadn't split and my dad hadn't remarried, I'd have neither grandparents nor step-grandparents, and then I'd just be awash, floating like a leaf, untethered from the family tree.

Perhaps all this thinking about older people explains why Pat Tanumihardja's new book, The Asian Grandmothers Cookbook (Sasquatch Books, 2009), resonated with me. 

 
The book profiles real life Asian grandmas and offers little stories about their backgrounds, educational achievements, work experiences, and family lives.  Of course, this is a cookbook, so the featured women also share their favorite recipes.  Dishes with Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Pakistani, Nepalese, and Indonesian influences, plus several others, are included.

As someone who has never had an Asian grandmother, a few recipes intimidated me with their length or unfamiliar ingredients, but I still found plenty to bookmark.  And the two I tried, Chinese Barbecued Pork and Amma's Rice (chicken biryani), pictured above, fed my family for days.  The upfront time that went into the cooking paid me back with phenomenal leftovers. 

Disclosurama:  Do I know Pat?  Yes.  (Here's her blog.)  Did I get this book as a free review copy? Affirmative.  Would I have dinner with your grandma? Sure. Would I eat whatever she served me?  Within reason, but no stuffed derma and no eel, please.  Will I one day be a grandma?  A cute grandma?  I'd better.  In fact, it's a goal of mine.  All babies are cute, but to pull off being a super-cute grandma... that's on my to-do list, for sure.

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Recipe for Chinese Barbecued Pork

Adapted from The Asian Grandmothers Cookbook by Patricia Tanumihardja (Sasquatch Books, 2009)

A long marinade is key to the terrific flavor in this dish, so plan ahead.  Pat's original recipe called for boneless pork shoulder, but I used country pork ribs to great effect.  I also forgot to glaze my ribs with the reduced marinade (whoops), so if you want to do this, just boil the reserved marinade for 10 minutes and brush it on the ribs before serving.

Serves 4 to 6

2-1/2 pounds boneless country pork ribs, or boneless pork shoulder measuring 8 by 6 by 3 inches

2/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup low-sodium soy sauce

1 tablespoon dry sherry

1/2 teaspoon 5-spice powder

2 scallions, smashed

2 stems cilantro, smashed

1 pod star anise

Cut the ribs into 8 equal sized strips.  (I started with 4 long ribs and cut them in half width-wise.)  If using shoulder, cut it into 8 strips about 1-1/2 inches wide and 7 inches long.  Place in a single layer in a rectangular casserole.  I used a Pyrex dish.

Whisk the sugar, soy sauce, sherry, and 5 spice powder together in a small bowl.  Pour over the pork.  Nestle the scallions, cilantro stems, and star anise pod in the dish.  Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for 24 hours, turning once if you remember.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Line the inside of a broiling pan with foil.  Remove the pork from the marinade and place atop the grated broiler pan.  (Transfer marinade to a small saucepan.)

Bake pork for 25 minutes, basting once or twice with reserved marinade.  Flip the pork, baste again, and bake an additional 15 to 20 minutes, or until the pork caramelizes and just begins charring at the edges.  

Transfer meat to a cutting board and let rest for 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, boil reserved marinade for at least 10 minutes, if using.  Cut meat crosswise into thin slices.  Brush with boiled, reduced marinade, if desired, before serving.

printable pdf

Albondigas

 

Please don't make me eat a tofu dog. 

Or vegan cheese.

Look, I eat far less meat than I used to.  I grew up in a neighborhood with a corner deli, so a roast beef on rye or a warm, drippy Reuben were never far from my dinner plate.  I didn't give them much thought; I just wiped the grease from my mouth and took another bite.

But things have changed, and though I still eat meat, I eat less.  Less quantity, and less frequently.

So when my colleague Tara Mataraza Desmond sent me a copy of Almost Meatless (Ten Speed Press, 2009), the new book she co-authored with Joy Manning, I was like, okay, of course, this makes perfect sense.  It's a book for omnivores with recipes that use meat, but less of it.  It's a book, obviously, for me.

Take the albondigas (big photo), which I made a few nights ago. They’re smoky, chipotle-spiked lamb meatballs, but the lamb is mixed with raw steel-cut oats (!). As a result, you only need ½ pound of lamb for four people. 

And before you go toss yourself off a bridge, I promise that these do NOT taste like oatmealy meatballs.  They taste like lamb meatballs, because they are.  It's just that as the oats soften, they take on the flavor, texture, and character of the meat so you can get away with using a whole lot less. 

Have some watermelon on hand because they're spicy.

The book offers recipes for fish, eggs, poultry, beef, and pork, too, and they all follow the same philosophy of pairing smaller quantities of animal protein with unique, bold flavors, grains, and vegetables. 

Want more recipes?  How much are you willing to pay? 

How about ZERO DOLLARS? 

I jest, but just a little: today, a number of food writers and bloggers are linking up to our favorite recipes from the book and posting them all at a hub on Tara's and Joy's sites.  Click through to access recipes from the book and discover new food blogs, too.

Just try these albondigas first. 

p.s. Among the fellow participants is regular 5SR commenter Charmian of Christie's Corner.  Check out her post here.

...

Recipe for Albondigas

From Almost Meatless (2009) by Joy Manning and Tara Mataraza Desmond  (Reprinted with permission from Ten Speed Press and the authors)

[from csr: Using a whole chipotle, even without the seeds, made these almost too spicy for my kids.  If serving younger palates, you'll want to use less chipotle.  Plain yogurt makes a perfect, and cooling, accompaniment, as does the cilantro-lime rice suggested in the recipe.]

Serves 4 to 6

1/2 cup steel-cut oatmeal (dry)

1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro leaves, chopped, plus more for garnish

4 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 tablespoons, divided)

1 chipotle in adobo sauce, seeded and chopped into a paste

4 teaspoons ground cumin, divided

2 teaspoons ground coriander, divided

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound ground lamb

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 small onion, cut into 1/4-inch dice (about 1 cup)

1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes

1 cup water

Juice of 1 lime

Mix together the oatmeal, cilantro, half the garlic, the chipotle, 2 teaspoons of the cumin, 1 teaspoon of the coriander, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper in a bowl.  Gently work the lamb into the mixture, distributing it evenly.  Form balls out of tablespoon-size scoops of the mixture and set aside.

Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or large pot over medium-high heat.  Add the onion and saute for 5 minutes.  Stir in the remaining garlic, cumin, and coriander, cooking for an additional 30 seconds.  Add the tomatoes and water and stir to combine.  Bring the sauce to a simmer and add the meatballs.  Simmer partially covered for 45 minutes.  Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste, squeeze the lime juice over the top, and serve with extra chopped cilantro.

printable pdf

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Six

I'm going to steal a page from Haagen-Dazs Five. Ready?  Here's my Tortilla Pizza Six.

If you've got farmers' market tomatoes (1), and high-fat cheese (2);  whole wheat tortillas (3), and good olive oil (4); shards of cracked pepper (5), and tufts of young herbs (6)... you've got lunch.

Now don't go thinking you can throw any load of crap on these pizzas and they'll qualify, cause they won't.  Keep your floury pre-shredded cheese to yourself.

The tomatoes should be blood-red and ripe; the cheese lusty and voluptuous; the tortillas made without gums (seriously); the olive oil extra-virgin; the pepper freshly ground; the herbs dewy and pert.

1-2-3-4-5-6.

Six.

It's ridiculously cooler than five.

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Recipe for Fresh Tortilla Pizzas

This is a five-minute, six-ingredient summer lunch.  If you don't have in season tomatoes or a creamy, high-fat cheese (try this creme-fraiche enriched Supreme or a buffalo mozzarella), then don't bother.

Makes 2 small pizzas (serves 1 or 2)

2 whole wheat flour tortillas

Extra-virgin olive oil

4 to 8 slices ripe summer tomatoes, depending on size and variety

Fresh cheese

Freshly cracked black pepper

1 to 2 sprigs fresh oregano or a few small basil leaves

Place the tortillas side by side on a rimmed baking sheet and brush with a thin layer of olive oil.  Arrange the tomatoes and chunks of cheese, slightly overlapping, next to each other.  Slip under the broiler for about 2 minutes, or until the edges of the tortillas darken and the cheese melts and begins to bubble.

Drizzle with additional olive oil, if desired, and sprinkle with fresh black pepper.  Top with oregano leaves or torn basil, and serve at once.

printable pdf

Spaghetti

The secret to reinvigorating leftover spaghetti, I've found, is to incorporate one new element.  Just one.  Whether it's a handful of olives, a sprinkling of toasted nuts, or even a touch of cream, the new item distracts the diner from the fact that you're serving yesterday's food.

One morning while our guests slept upstairs, I spent about 5 minutes (no lie) prepping some garlicky roasted tomatoes.  Into the oven they went, and 45 minutes later they were done.  Once they cooled, I nestled them in a jar, topped them with olive oil, and pushed them to the back of the fridge.  I didn't know what I'd use them for, but I sensed they'd come in handy as a stop-gap measure should a dinner emergency arise.

Two nights later it happened.  Half the household got involved in a four-hour Monopoly game, and by the time we called for pizza the one place on our part of the island had stopped delivering.  I crouched in front of the fridge and eased out all the leftovers -- sausages, cold spaghetti, asparagus, a half-nub of cheese. 

Wait.  What's that?

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Recipe for Leftover Spaghetti with sausage, asparagus, and garlic-roasted tomatoes

Having roasted tomatoes on hand brightens up any cold pasta, even spaghetti, which is notoriously difficult to make appealing after it has been in the fridge for a few days.  This is more of a concept than a strict recipe, because you can substitute any leftover meats, cheeses, or vegetables you happen to have lying around.  Got leftover pesto?  Toss it in.

Olive oil

Handful of skinny asparagus spears

Leftover cooked sausage, sliced into rounds

Cold spaghetti

Garlic roasted tomatoes, in olive oil, sliced thinly (my printable recipe here)

Nub of goat cheese or feta

Olives, toasted nuts, capers, pesto sauce (all optional)

Heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Saute the asparagus until crisp-tender.  Toss in the sausage and (re)-brown.  Add the spaghetti, the tomatoes, and the oil in which the tomatoes were packed, and toss with tongs until the pasta is very hot.  (Feel free to cover the skillet briefly.  Add a spoonful or two of water to prevent sticking)  Break the cheese into little buttons and sprinkle on the hot pasta, tossing once or twice more so it softens and begins to melt.  Divide among serving bowls, and add optional garnishes, if desired. Hit one final time with olive oil for a last hurrah.

printable pdf

Potatoes

I'm sorry, but that may be the most ridiculous photo I've ever posted.  Whose mashed potatoes look like that?

Uh, mine do.

Never been a huge potato person.  I'll pilfer others' fries in a restaurant (sorry), but if I'm going to starch myself at home I generally go for rice.

Things changed this weekend when our bi-monthly supper club met at my friend Stacy's house.  Stacy is the consummate hostess -- always looks great, mixes a mean cocktail, takes good care of her guests, and cooks exceptionally well.  Her baby back ribs were a huge hit on Sunday, and I can't wait to make them and share the recipe here.

But the biggest surprise of the night for me was the mashed potatoes, because I don't even like mashed potatoes.  Or I didn't think I did.  But Tom brought over these potatoes that made us all swoon.  Yes, we swooned over the ribs, and the coleslaw, and the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler (Liz used my recipe, bless her heart), and the drinks, apps, etc etc etc, but when I came home that night I dreamt of dancing potatoes.

I picked up a pound of small yukon golds the next day.  Just a pound -- you know, in case I completely screwed them up.  And then last night I mashed them.  I couldn't justify Tom's two sticks of butter (in his defense, he was serving 10 adults, while I was serving 2 adults and 2 kids), but I did drizzle in a little olive oil for richness, minced shallots for sweetness, some buttermilk for tang, and a solid spoonful of salt.

And guess what?  Even with their massive case of bedhead, they tasted really, really good.

...

Recipe for Basic Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes

I couldn't be bothered to pass these through a ricer so this mash is rustic rather than completely smooth.  I also opted for olive oil over butter, a choice I'd absolutely make again.

Makes about 4 servings

1 pound small or medium yukon gold potatoes, peels on or off (I peeled half), quartered

1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk

1 tablespoon minced shallots

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon Kosher salt, or to taste

Place potatoes in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water by about an inch.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a hard simmer and cook until potatoes are tender, about 10 to 12 minutes depending on the size of the chunks.  Drain, then immediately return to the pot with some of the water still clinging.

Mash a few times with a potato masher.  Once you've broken the potatoes down a little, add the buttermilk, shallots, olive oil, and salt.  Continue mashing to within an inch of your life, until you reach a consistency that pleases you.  Adjust the salt, if necessary, and serve hot.

printable pdf

Kernels

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and sometimes a nut is just a nut.  And sometimes, just sometimes, a nut is actually a kernel masquerading as an almond.

I found a bag of roasted sweet apricot kernels at the store a few months ago and tossed them in my cart.  Why?  I honestly have no idea.  But when I finally got around to opening them I discovered that these petite kernels, which come from inside the pit of an apricot, look like itty bitty almonds.  And they taste, not exactly like fresh apricots, but like intense apricot essence.  Like if someone were to flavor something with eau de apricot, they'd probably use these kernels.  Like if you were to buy apricot-scented perfume and drink it, it might taste like this, but, you know, better.

Weird?  Why yes, they're a little weird, but they're cheaper than almonds ("poor man's almonds" according to Trader Joe), and they really add an unexpected fruitiness to dishes where you might otherwise use normal nuts.

I turned them into a pesto, which I used to top grilled chicken.  And just to carry the theme a little further, I shoved a few plump dried apricots under the chicken skin before grilling.  I honestly had no idea whether one could do that -- you know, stuff dried fruit under chicken skin -- but guess what?  You CAN!  Now I can't wait to do the same thing with more dried fruit.  I think prunes would be nice, though I don't plan to make a pesto out of prune pits.

The apricots were really pretty when I cut into the chicken.  And when everyone else took a bite, and swept their forks through that fruity pesto, their eyes widened and their eyebrows cocked, like, why the hell does my pesto taste like APRICOTS?

Heh heh.  Our little secret.

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Recipe for Apricot-Stuffed Grilled Chicken with Pesto

If you can't find roasted apricot kernels near you, you can certainly use purchased pesto or make your own pesto using any nuts you like.  (Important: apricot kernels are NOT the same as apricot pits, and you can't just smash an apricot pit and eat the kernel inside.  The kernels must be roasted first because they contain traces of a toxic acid.  The kernels I purchased had already been roasted and I urge you to buy only "sweet" roasted kernels as well.)  The highlight of this recipe is really the dried apricots tucked under the skin.  They become soft, warm, and luscious upon grilling.

Serves 4

3 tablespoons poultry-friendly spice rub (I used Penzeys Northwoods Seasoning, but you can use any brand or make your own)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon Kosher salt

4 bone-in, skin-on chicken breast halves (10 to 12 ounces each)

8 plump dried apricots

1/2 cup of your favorite pesto recipe, swapping "sweet" roasted apricot kernels for the nuts (you may want to leave out the cheese, as I did)

In a small skillet, warm the spices over medium heat for a few minutes, stirring constantly, until fragrant.  Transfer to a small bowl and drizzle in the olive oil and salt.

Rub the spice mixture all over the chicken, including underneath the skin.  Stuff 2 dried apricots under the skin.  Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature for a half hour.

Preheat the grill for direct and indirect medium heat.  You're aiming for about 450 degrees.

Grill the chicken breasts skin side down over the hottest part of the grill (direct heat) for 3 to 5 minutes, until nice grill marks appear, then carefully flip (don't let the apricots slip out) and move to the cooler part of the grill.  Continue cooking (with the lid closed) until the chicken is completely cooked through and the skin is nice and crisp, about 25 to 30 minutes.

Remove chicken to a platter.  Let rest for several minutes, then serve with the apricot pesto.

printable pdf

Routine

 
We all fall prey to routine.

Maybe it's due to comfort, or laziness, or lack of inspiration.  We eat the same cereal for breakfast, walk the same route to work, buy the same crackers we've bought for years.

And there's nothing inherently wrong with this, I suppose.  I mean, if your routine works for you, there's no moral imperative to shake things up. 

Things are shifting here, though.  I feel it.  First, it's hot as the dickens.  The mercury soared to 89 degrees yesterday, and today we're on our way to 93.  This, in April.  I've cranked open the windows and look on, guilt-ridden, as my plants buckle and wilt.  It's like a giant monster with hot breath has overtaken the neighborhood. 

Things are shifting in the market, too.  Yesterday I saw the first squash blossoms of the season.  I passed them by -- with another conference this week I won't have time to stuff and fry them -- and reached instead for quicker-cooking fare: zucchini I'll slice into rounds, white carrots I'll shred and dress, snap peas I'll pop like tic tacs.

Change has even come to my chicken habits.

I always roast bone-in chicken breasts with nothing more than salt, pepper, and olive oil.  I've done this for years.  Colorful sides lend the meal vibrancy and interest, but the chicken is generally the same: salt, pepper, olive oil... salt, pepper, olive oil...  lather, rinse, repeat.  I get plenty creative when it comes to boneless, skinless breasts, but with the bone in I rarely waver.

Yesterday, my friend Lisa told me to marinate the chicken in fruit vinegar, Worcestershire, and a little oil...

The chicken was super-juicy, and flavorful. 

I felt free!  Inspired! 

"Where'd you get this rotisserie chicken?" Colin cooed.

I'm cooking chicken this way for the next 30 years.
...

Recipe for Roasted Chicken Breasts with Fruit Vinegar

You'll not only get great flavor and juicy meat by letting your chicken soak up this fruity marinade, you'll get beautifully dark, crisp skin as well.  Use whatever fruit vinegar you have on hand.  If you're buying a new bottle, I recommend a fig balsamic.

Serves 4

1-1/2 tablespoons fruit vinegar

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

3 tablespoons olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1-3/4 pound bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (about 2 large)

In a small bowl or glass measuring cup, whisk together the vinegar, Worcestershire, and olive oil until emulsified.  Season generously with salt and pepper and transfer to a large ziploc bag.  Add the chicken, squeeze out all the air, and zip closed.  Fold the bag in half and refrigerate for several hours, turning occasionally if you think of it.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Fit a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and coat with nonstick spray.  Remove the chicken from the marinade (let excess marinade drip of) and place on the baking sheet.  (Discard marinade.)  Pat chicken gently with paper towels.

Roast in the hot oven for about 30 minutes, or until a thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the breast reaches 175 degrees.  Cool slightly, then cut the meat off the bone in one large chunk and slice crosswise for serving.

printable pdf

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Please check out my unique, participatory Mother's Day tribute here.

Stew

Here's my new favorite beef stew recipe.  It comes, of course, from Cooking Know-How (2009, Wiley), the just-released 15th cookbook by Mark Scarbrough and Bruce Weinstein, whom I interviewed for yesterday's post.

I don't eat much red meat, so if a beef stew is going to grace my table it's got to do more than pass muster  -- it's got to shine. 

And this one does. 

As Bruce said, the secret is in taking your time to brown the meat properly.  You want a nice sear on each piece of beef, which creates a caramelized crust and ramps up the flavors significantly.  If you're in a hurry, make yourself an omelet instead. 

I'm serious.

But ah, if you're patient, you'll be immensely proud of yourself when you sit down to eat.  You'll also have phenomenal leftovers, so lunch the next day will require nothing more than a microwave and an extra-large napkin.

N.B. When shopping for the meat, I saw 2 options at my local grocer: pristine looking beef stew meat, beautifully cubed and a nice, uniform pink color, and boneless chuck, messier-looking with threads of creamy fat.  Believe me when I say that in a former life, I would have bought the more attractive, cleaner-looking pre-cut meat.  But for flavor, you need fat, and the butcher expressed his proud approval when I went for the chuck. 

Remember, the prettiest girl isn't always the best date.

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Recipe for Carbonnades Flamandes, or Belgian Beef Stew

Adapted from Cooking Know-How by Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough (2009, Wiley)

If you've never added beer to beef stew, you've missed out.  Please note that I omitted the parsnips and mushrooms, but only because I forgot to buy them.  Take your time searing the meat.  The payoff will be worth the extra minutes and attention.  Finally, I'm giving you the down and dirty version of this recipe.  To get the full benefit of the authors' experience and wisdom, you'll want to get their book.  They explain why each ingredient and step is important, which is useful not only in producing a great meal, but in creating variations on the theme.

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

6 ounces chopped bacon

2-1/2 pounds boneless chuck or bottom round (I used the former), cubed

1 large yellow onion, chopped

4 medium carrots, peeled and roughly chopped

3 parsnips, peeled and roughly chopped

8 ounces thickly-sliced mushrooms, sauteéd in 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, optional

3 tablespoons flour

1 cup beef broth

One 12-ounce bottle of beer

2 teaspoons thyme

1 teaspoon caraway seeds

1 tablespoon coarse-ground mustard

Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat the butter in a large soup pot or heavy Dutch oven over medium heat.  Sauté the bacon until crispy, then transfer to a very large bowl.

Brown the beef in batches.  As each batch is seared, transfer the meat to the bowl with the bacon and continue with the next batch.  (Take your time and do not crowd the pan or the meat will steam rather than sear.)  The meat should all be out of the pot and in the large bowl before proceeding.

Turn the heat down slightly and add the onions, carrots, and parsnips to the Dutch oven.  Cook, stirring often, until the onion has softened, about 3 minutes.  Stir in the mushrooms, if using.

Whisk the flour into the beef broth.  Whisk this mixture into the pot along with the beer, thyme and caraway seeds.  Bring the heat up to a simmer.  Stir the beef, bacon, and all accumulated juices back into the pot.  Cover, and reduce the heat to the lowest possible simmer.  Cook until fork-tender, about 2 hours.

Stir in the mustard, season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.

printable pdf

Pilaf

When I'm feeling generous, and I offer to do things, I genuinely believe I'm going to follow through.  Like, I'd be happy to take you to the airport anytime, just ask!  Or, of course I'll donate something to the school auction, no prob!  Or, if you have any requests for the blog, tell me and I'll customize a recipe just! for! you!

Well, I'm taking my neighbor to the airport today.  And I've just agreed to donate a culinary experience for the school auction.  So if I'm going for the hat-trick, that leaves, let's see, ah. 

Yes.

Way back in October, I opened my trap and asked if any of you had requests for recipes you wanted to see up here.  I followed through on most: a pumpkin quick bread with cranberries and walnut meal for Diana, a cheddar-apple crisp for Elisa, and a cilantro-white bean spread for Charmian.

But there's one request I've ignored for 4-1/2 months:

Dear Request Maven,
Please find something for me to do with chicken. Something my kids will eat. Something that is not too involved. Something that doesn't taste exactly like the sad same old chicken that I've been making.
Thanks for rescuing me. The family thanks you too.
                                                                   Heather

People, it's time.

Now let's be clear: the recipe I'm going to share with you isn't mine. It belongs, in spirit and in fact, to Nigella Lawson, who has this in common with me: very little.  She has luxurious, shiny hair, a glorious bosom, bedroom eyes, and a honeyed British accent.  I have

her book.

But that's good enough for me, and Heather, it should be good enough for you.  Why?

Because this recipe, adapted from Lawson's Forever Summer, is phenomenal, and it meets all your criteria.  It's not too involved, it doesn't taste sad, or old. And your kids are sure to love it.  (Mine do.)  Plus, though you didn't mandate attractiveness, this pilaf makes a really, really pretty meal.

Off to the airport.

...

Chicken and Basmati Pilaf with Saffron, Pistachios, and Peas

Adapted from Forever Summer by Nigella Lawson (Hyperion, 2003)

This is an amazing meal, with beautiful sunny colors and a bright mix of flavors.  It's fancy enough for company but simple enough for a Tuesday.  The only necessary advanced planning is to marinate the chicken for an hour ahead of time.  Feel free to switch up the nuts; Lawson calls for toasted cashews, pine nuts, and almonds as well as pistachios.  I like the combination of pistachios and peas, but that's just me.

Serves 6

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons whole milk yogurt

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1-1/2 lemons, divided

1-1/4 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into small chunks

1 tablespoon butter

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

2-1/4 cups basmati rice

4 cups low-sodium chicken broth (or stock)

1/2 teaspoon saffron threads or ground saffron, or a little more to produce a color you like (I used more)

3-4 cardamom pods, gently crushed with a meat mallet or rolling pin

3/4 cup unsalted, shelled pistachios

1/2 cup frozen peas

Minced fresh parsley, for garnish (optional)

Whisk the yogurt in a medium bowl with the cinnamon and juice of 1/2 lemon.  Add the chicken chunks and toss to coat.  Cover and refrigerate for an hour.

In a large saucepan, melt the butter with 1 tablespoon of the oil.  Add the rice, tossing to coat.  Pour in the broth, and add the saffron, bruised cardamom, and zest and juice of remaining lemon.  Bring to a boil, then cover tightly and turn the heat down as low as possible.  Cook until the rice has absorbed all the liquid, about 10 to 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, fetch the chicken.  Heat the remaining oil in a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Working in batches, spoon some chicken into a strainer and bang over the sink to allow the excess yogurt to drip off, then pan-fry the chicken until browned and cooked through.  Repeat with remaining chicken, removing to a clean plate once it's cooked.

When the rice is ready, use a fork to fluff it a bit, then scrape in the cooked chicken, the pistachios, and the peas.  Let stand a few minutes so the residual heat from the rice warms the peas through.  (Discard the papery cardamom pods, if desired.)  Shower with parsley, for garnish.

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