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Thursday, October 29, 2009

When the Sky Falls

The Red Kuri squash was thrown in a large bin filled with various winter gourds. It was love at first sight. Red Kuri squash, the sticker informed; bake at 375 until tender and serve with butter, salt, and pepper. Like a baked potato. Surely, I thought, I could do better than that. Not because I have anything against baked potatoes, but because a beautiful squash like that deserves to be part of a more special meal.

A quick google search gave me some delicious results that I plan to try in the future, but I was craving something else; something that would accentuate the velvet texture of Kuri squash, the delicate and mild squash flavor, and the sweetness of the beautiful globe.

I kept it on my kitchen counter for a few days admiring the gorgeous color, ideas brewing in my head (although, unfortunately, I failed to take a picture of the beauty). The squash even got played with; Bryan chased Jack around the house, Kuri squash bouncing from hand to hand, menacingly whispering:

“Calabaza…calabaza…calabaza.” (Spanish for “Pumpkin”)

Finally, today, the day when the sky fell on the ground, the day when I at once cursed the horrid rain and blessed it during a delicious nap lulled by thunder and water hitting the roof, I cooked the squash, the beautiful orange squash. The orange cubes cooked in a curry scented broth, with silky coconut milk and a homemade chicken broth.

We all kept walking past the bubbling pot smelling the delicious vapors, hunger brewing, anticipating the soup. We ate quietly, slurping, mmm-ing, and watching the rain fall.
It was well worth the wait.



Curried Red Kuri Squash and Chicken Soup

The combination of Thai green curry paste and Indian curry powder give this soup a complex and delicious flavor. Not all curry powders are made the same; if the one you have on hand is particularly spicy, cut down on the amount of curry powder in the recipe.

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
5-6 garlic cloves, finely sliced
2 inch piece of fresh ginger, finely grated

1 ½ tablespoons of Thai green curry paste
2 tablespoons Indian curry powder
1 can of coconut milk
5 cups of chicken broth
2 1/2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons sweet chili sauce
4 cups of 1 inch cubes of Red Kuri squash (about 2/3 of a squash)

8 chicken tenders (about ¾ lb), thinly sliced
1 tablespoon brown sugar
sprinkle of salt

Cilantro and scallion for garnish

Preparation:

Heat the oil in a large enamel cast iron pot, or dutch oven. Place the onions, garlic, and ginger in the oil and sauté for about 3-5 minutes.

Add the curry paste and curry powder, stir to combine and sauté for another minute.

Add the coconut milk, chicken broth, fish sauce, chili sauce, Kuri squash, and stir. Bring everything to a boil, lower the temperature and simmer for about 10- 20 minutes, or until the squash has cooked through.

Add the chicken, sugar, and salt. Simmer for 5 minutes or until the chicken has cooked through (do not cook too long or the chicken will dry and the squash will be mushy). Taste and adjust seasoning as needed (it needs to have a good salty, sweet, tart, and spicy balance). Serve with chopped cilantro and scallion, along with lime wedges.

Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

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Saturday, October 24, 2009

I Fink Therefore I Am


One of the hardest things about raising a little boy is the inability I have to relate to certain quirks, which I hear are most common in boys. One of them is Jack’s love for guns, which I first talked about here. If you remember the particular episode, Jack talked about the animals he saw in the clouds and how one of the clouds was a gun that shot one of the bunnies in the sky. He’s a cool kid.

Another challenge is helping him understand the good and the bad guys, and perhaps the gray areas in between. The villains are always much cooler. That is the truth. It started with Milton’s Paradise Lost, and it went downhill from there. Obviously, Jack can like the villains, but there is a part of me that wants to clarify: Yeah, the scary alien with multiple horns and bulging muscles is impressive, but he’s bad; he hurts people. Sure, Darth Vader is intimidating (even though his asthma would probably make him a very weak opponent) and he seems cool, but Skywalker is good and handsome.

A few weeks ago we were at a local restaurant waiting for our food to come out, when Jack noticed a policeman sitting at the table next to ours:

“Look momma, a policeman…he’s got a gun, look momma.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Momma, does he shoot bad guys with the gun?”
“Well, policemen protect people from bad guys.”
“Does he shoot the bad guys really hard?”
“Well, it depends, baby. Sometimes he just puts people in jail, sometimes he needs to shoot. It depends…”

Jack pauses a minute…

“He has to fink about it?”
“Yes, little doofus, he has to Fink about it…” I say smiling, happy to see that he is starting to understand the complexity of certain choices.

The Chocolate Rum Cake that I am offering today has nothing to do with the story I just told you, but it is complex and balanced: sweet, tart, chocolaty, moist and crumbly. It is a delicious desert that is made even better by the succulent berries that go along with it. I initially found it in The Sociable Cook, by Katie Stewart, and I loved it the very first time I made it. Stewart makes a berry sauce to go with the cake, but if you are under time constraints as I was, fresh berries go beautifully here, in fact, even better than the sauce. Here it is to the beautiful complexities of life the universe and everything. The answer is always 42 (according to Douglass Adams and my husband), or a beautiful chocolate rum cake.



Chocolate Rum Cake with Fresh Blackberries

Ingredients:

1 ½ cups of unbleached all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cocoa (not Dutch process)
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon of salt
1 ¾ cups light brown sugar
6 tablespoons canola oil (or any other mild oil)
2/3 cup milk
3 eggs
1 teaspoon of vanilla essence

For the syrup:

½ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup cold water
6 tablespoons of dark rum

For the topping:

1 2/3 cups of heavy cream
½ cup of powder sugar

Cocoa for dusting

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 325 F. Butter or spray with oil one 9 inch round cake pan.

Sift the flour, cocoa, baking powder, salt, and brown sugar into a large mixing bowl.

In another mixing bowl combine the oil, milk, and vanilla. Separate the eggs; add the yolks to the milk and oil mixture and stir to combine. Reserve the whites.

Add the milk mixture to the dry ingredients. Mix with a spatula to a smooth, slack batter.

Beat the egg whites with a hand held mixer to stiff white peaks and fold carefully into the cake batter. Pour the batter into the oiled/buttered cake pan and place in the oven. Bake for about 45 minutes. Test with a toothpick for doneness.

In the meanwhile, place the cold water and sugar in a small saucepan and set over low heat until the sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil and draw off the heat. Add the rum, mix well and set aside.

Once the cake is done, let it rest for a few minutes. Prick the surface with a fork and spoon over it the rum syrup. Let it cool completely.

Turn the cake out on a plate or platter.

In a mixing bowl dissolve the sugar into the cream, and whip it into soft peaks. Swirl a layer of the whipped cream atop the cake. Chill at least 2 hours, dust with cocoa, and serve with the fresh blackberries.
Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

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Monday, October 19, 2009

A Hidden Treasure

There was a time when I could keep all my to-do items in one orderly list and scratch with pleasure the ones that were quickly completed. That time also coincides with an era when I could leisurely spend evenings reading books for no particular reason while sipping honey-tea. It also paralleled the epoch when I could spend inordinate amounts of time in the ceramics lab. At about the same age I could keep more than one thought in my head without confusion and with absolute command.

This is no longer the case.

At this present stage I forget why I open the fridge. I forget where I place my coffee mug, which causes much distress; I forget to buy milk and cereal. I forget to shave my legs, to brush my hair, to clean my glasses...I forget a great deal. But what is most frustrating of all is when I forget my to-do list, which causes me to have about five simultaneous to-do lists that never get finished, that are found months later under the couch (perhaps with crayon scribbles on top), in the tupperware drawer (oh, Jack!), and folded within piles of folders and notebooks.

In this era, I have no control of my surroundings and something must be done.

I did manage to find this recipe scribbled on a to-do list from this past August. I groaned at yet another to-do victim and then I smiled at the hidden recipe. Consider it a hidden treasure.



Summer Squash Quiche with Thyme

Ingredients:

2 frozen deep pie butter crusts

1 tablespoon butter
½ medium onion, cut into fine rings (about ½ cup)
12 oz squash, cut into ¼ inch rings
2 teaspoons finely chopped thyme

6 large eggs
1/3 cup cream or half and half
1 ½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon of Sriracha (or any hot sauce)
1 cup of grated Monterey Jack cheese
¼ teaspoon of nutmeg

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Melt the butter in a large skillet. When hot and bubbly, add the onion rings and sauté for 2-3 minutes until translucent.

Add the squash and sauté for another 2-3 minutes. Add the thyme, stir to combine, and set aside to cool.

In a large mixing bowl stir the eggs, cream, salt, pepper, Sriracha, cheese and nutmeg until combined.

Divide the squash mixture between the pie shells and spread evenly on the shell surface. Divide the custard in half and pour each half over the squash mixture in each pie shell.

Place in the oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown and the custard has set in the center. Let it rest for about 15-30 minutes before serving

Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

Notes:

Be careful not to over bake the quiche or the custard will be gummy and dry. Also, keep in mind that the custard will keep cooking even when you take it out of the oven.

Adapted from Epicurious.com.

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Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Love Letter


Dearest Pumpkins,

I love you. Mostly because the orange of your skin and flesh is such a welcome sight in the midst of gray skies and pre-winter vegetation death, and also because you taste delicious, especially when mixed with cinnamon, ground ginger, and cloves. I realize that this note might be as flattering as it is preposterous, but I cannot help but sing your praises. You are the gods of autumn, worshiped and then eaten, and it can’t be any other way, I am afraid, because you are sacrificial gods. Other images have tried to borrow from your glory: spider webs, ghosts, and even pirate skeletons; however, I know, nay, we all know that what makes autumn beautiful and memorable and bittersweet is that we can depend on you to always be there, ready to offer yourselves up and to become scarily empty and hollow, beaten and carved, baked and stewed, chopped and sautéed, so that we can be nourished, entertained, and spooked.




Spiced Pumpkin and Walnut Bread*

Ingredients:

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (I prefer Saigon Cinnamon)
½ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon salt

2 large eggs, at room temperature
¼ cup of water
1 ½ cups sugar
1 cup canned or fresh pumpkin puree**
½ cup neutral-flavor vegetable oil (such as canola)
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 cup roughly chopped walnuts


1. Preheat the oven to 350 F.
2. Lightly coat a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan with canola-oil spray or butter.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, ginger, nutmeg, and salt until thoroughly blended.
4. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and water. Add the sugar and blend well. Add the pumpkin puree, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract and blend well.
5. Add the pumpkin mixture to the dry ingredients and whisk until blended and smooth. Fold in the walnuts until they are evenly distributed. Use a spatula to scrape the batter into the prepared loaf pan and level the top.
6. Bake for 55-65 minutes, until the bread is firm to the touch and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a rack to cool completely; do not cut it until it has cooled off for at least 30 minutes.
7. Any leftovers should be wrapped in plastic and stored at room temperature for up to 2 days, or in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

*I found the original recipe on Gourmet and tweaked it to my taste.
**If you use canned, make sure that it is just the plain pumpkin puree, not the sweetened pie filling. Libby’s brand is my favorite.

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Sunday, October 11, 2009

Forkful of Fall


Right now it is raining, a hard fall of water on the overgrown grass, beating down the window glass, causing sleepiness, laziness, and boredom. The past two weeks have been this way and I have been longing for cooler weather, looking at my sweaters and coats, ready to place them once more in the closet, but cold weather in East Texas is different. It is not really cold and the trees are still green. Lush and green, as if at any moment the plants will take over all human establishments. It is so gray, and wet, and, well, yucky. I wilt with no sunshine.

The farmers’ market was still full. Live music, the bread lady was back, the tadpoles, the last watermelons, okra, greens, pumpkins of all sizes, and some beautiful patty pan squash or scallop squash. These are often referred to as summer patty pan squash, but they were all over the market, and it is my suspicion that even produce seasons are different in the south. Who knows? Anyway, I bought a pound of the little UFOs and set to work on them as soon as I got home; they do not keep very well. Scallop squash varies in size, from 1-5 inches. Younger squash is best, but even the larger varieties taste delicious. If you use the large squash, make sure you remove the top and bottom; also, check and make sure that the skin is not too thick.


I made a beautiful fall vegetable bake with sweet potatoes, carrots, sweet onions, garlic, potatoes, and patty pan squash. I dressed them all in a balsamic vinegar mixture that sweetened in the oven and helped the caramelization process. It was heavenly, the perfect forkful of fall that made me forget about the gray skies, cold water drops, and wet shoes.



Patty Pan Squash Bake with Balsamic Vinegar

Ingredients:

1 lb small patty pan squash (1 inch in diameter)
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut in 1 – 2 inch cubes
1 large potato, peeled and cut in 1 – 2 inch cubes
1 ½ cup of baby carrots (or 4 large carrots, cut into 1 inch pieces)
1 medium sweet onion, cut in large sections
5 garlic cloves

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup aged balsamic vinegar*
1 ½ teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 400 F.

Coat a large baking dish with oil or butter and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl whisk together the oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Add the vegetables and stir well to coat with the dressing. Pour everything onto the prepared baking dish.

Cover the dish lightly with aluminum foil and place in the oven for 20 minutes.

Remove the foil and stir. Place the dish back in the oven for another 30 minutes, or until the vegetables have cooked through and caramelized.

Serve immediately.

Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

*Often, good balsamic vinegar is quite expensive, so, in order to save the good stuff for salads, you can use cheap balsamic vinegar and add about 1/2 - 1 teaspoon of sugar to the dressing.

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Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Breaking Shells


Jack has inherited my bug phobia, I’m afraid. As much as I have tried to not show my fear and repulsion in front of him, he is a smart kid, and very suggestible, too, so now he is afraid of bugs. Fortunately it is not extreme. We still go outside to look at ants under a magnifying glass, to dig in the dirt for worms, and to look at all the cicada skins littering front and back porches all around our neighborhood. The cicadas, released from their shell, the memory of a life past.

I am trying to encourage Jack to have a healthier relationship with bugs; I still cannot touch a cicada shell even though I know it is hollow, whereas the little guy is fearless. I was tempted to tell him that perhaps just like in emptied homes, spiders take over the cavernous shell, but that would have been detrimental to his nurturing a love for critters, so I stayed quiet.

My parents would always buy fresh peas still in the shell, and when mom would get home with the bounty, she would spread them on a large baking pan and ask our help to release the small green spheres from their shell.

When Bryan came to Albania with me to meet the parents, he was also put to work cleaning peas. My little nephew Visar was also helping us and upon opening one of the shells, a centipede came flying and crawling, sending me into a panic; Visar, who has a very irrational love for all critters cried after it trying to hold it, much to my terror; whereas, Bryan grabbed a shoe and mercilessly squished the pea centipede causing Visar to wail and mourn the loss of his “bug friend.”



Ever since then, I have avoided shells with alarming frequency. Until a week ago, when one of my favorite farmers’ market vendor bragged about the purple hull peas filling his baskets. He even got Jack’s attention away from the tadpoles the cheese guy brings to the market every week for the children. That’s when I bought the purple shells.



We sat at the little table, Jack and I. The one we usually use for painting, play do, and snacking. I piled the shells high on a baking dish and asked Jack to help. When I cracked open the first shell my heart stopped for a minute. It was Jack’s excitement that eased my fears; that and knowing that Jack was watching me every minute to learn how to break the shells and set the peas free.

Maybe tomorrow we will go cicada skin hunting.



Purple Hull Pea Salad

I purchased 1 lb of peas in their shells, and after we were done cleaning them, I ended up with 1 ¾ cup of purple hull peas. Purple hull peas are different in flavor from black-eyed peas; however, they are from the same family of peas called cow peas or Southern peas. Texas Cream Peas are also a variation of the same family. Purple hull peas have a sweet earthy taste; they cook quickly and can be used in soups or in salads, like the one featured here.

Ingredients:

1 ¾ cup purple hull peas, hulled and rinsed well
¼ cup of finely chopped sweet yellow onion
1 garlic clove, crushed
1 tablespoon flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
2 tablespoons cilantro, finely chopped
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon of honey
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup red wine vinegar
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Bring salted water to a boil in a medium pan. Place the peas in the boiling water and cook for about 20-30 minutes, or until they are soft, but not mushy.

In the meanwhile, combine all the other ingredients in a large mixing bowl and set aside.

Once done, drain the peas, rinse with cold water and let cool. When cool, place them in the dressing, mix thoroughly and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. The longer they marinate the better they will taste.

Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

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Thursday, October 1, 2009

The Ninos

Sit down and close your eyes. Only for a moment. Now listen. Imagine you can hear a classical guitar playing, fingers strumming the strings, which quiver and sound, a man’s voice joins. It speaks poetry, it speaks life, and death, and love, and hate, the sacred and profane, all in one, all beautifully, ethereally strung together. And you think that this is good, that this is art. And it is. But keep your eyes closed for a few more seconds, and now imagine a mandolin joining the palpitations of the soulful sound, and just when you think that the unity and beauty of it all could not be more exquisite, another voice joins, a woman’s voice in perfect harmony with the man’s. And they sing as they look at each other smiling knowingly, their fingers flying over the strings, feet tapping to the beat they create, throwing astral sparks that are momentarily felt, fleeting and yet so close. Her hair blonde, his black, hers entwined in his curls, like their music, a unity of two beautiful souls.


I can say without any doubt that my in-laws, Jeana and Juan Carlos, are the best any girl could ever wish for. Ever since the first time I met them at their house in Tyler, Texas, I knew that I had found a new family, generous and loving just like the one I have in Albania. I am a lucky girl!

I remember the meal we had upon that first meeting. Grilled chicken thighs with mole. Despite being a picky eater, I enjoyed every bite. Jeana and Juan Carlos’ approach to food was truly inspiring, and their openness toward other cultures’ wisdom, culinary or otherwise, was an example that would start my desire to learn more about other cultures and their cuisines.

Jeana was the first to teach me about ginger. We were in Naples, Florida for a sunny Christmas, and Jeana made one of her signature dishes: Baked Salmon with Mango and Ginger. I have been in love with ginger from that very first bite.

The first time I tried Thai food was at a Thai restaurant in Dallas where Jeana and Juan Carlos took us to eat. That was another first love that continues today.

But more importantly, my in-laws, as if they had a common, secret understanding with my parents, solidified and further nurtured my love for people, no matter their background; their generosity of spirit, their goodness, and their ability to accept others with no judgment, is the most central ingredient of the banquet that is offered in their home.

And speaking of banquets, Jeana and Juan Carlos love to fill people, nurturing their hearts and their stomachs. They often have parties in their home where the food is abundant, the wine overflows, and where relationships are formed and solidified.

Jeana often asks me to cook things for her parties, which, as you can imagine is exciting and flattering at the same time.

Often, the usual concoctions are made: Salcë Kosi (Albanian garlicky yoghurt sauce), Muhammara, some type of cookie, this bruschetta, etc. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to make something different out of the fresh corn and chard I got at the farmer’s market. Imagine wonton wrappers filled with sweet corn, sautéed, salty-tart chard, sweet basil, and cream cheese, fried until golden brown and served with a cool cilantro-lime cream. They were better than I imagined and they were all gone.

Everyone at the party seemed happy and satisfied; perhaps it was the food, perhaps it was the delicious Sangria Jeana and Juan Carlos made, but I suspect it was because each one of us knew the love and generosity the Ninos (as Jack likes to call them) poured richly on the evening, with no reservations.



Corn and Chard Golden Pillows with Cilantro-Lime Cream

Ingredients:

1 pack of square wonton wrappers (about 48-50 wrappers)

2 cups of fresh corn kernels
1 cup of chopped basil
3 oz chorizo

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 cups of packed, chopped chard
½ teaspoon sea salt
juice of ½ lemon (about 2 tablespoons)

1/3 cup cream cheese
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon smoked paprika.

Canola or vegetable oil for frying

Preparation:

Boil water in a medium pot. Put the corn kernels in the boiling water for a minute. Drain, and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process. Drain the kernels well and set aside.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet and add the garlic. Sauté for about 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add the chard, and stir until coated with the oil, for about 1 minute. Add the sea salt and lemon juice, stir and sauté for one more minute or until the chard is slightly wilted and bright green. Set aside.

In a small skillet stir fry the chorizo. Set aside.

Mix in a large mixing bowl the corn, chard, chorizo, pepper flakes, smoked paprika, and the cream cheese. Refrigerate for about 15-30 minutes.

Heat the oil in a deep skillet.

In the meanwhile, start preparing the won tons: Take one wrapper, place 1 tsp mixture in middle of wrapper and seal edges with water. Fry in hot oil until the edges are golden brown. Serve while warm with the Cilantro-Lime Cream.

Tips:

Fill the won ton wrappers one at a time; keep the won ton container covered with a damp towel (make sure it does not touch the wrappers); you will also need a small bowl of water for sealing.

Make sure to remove all air pockets as you are sealing the edges; start with one side, using your fingers to push the mixture within the wrapper, and then finish with the other side. Press the edges tightly to insure that the contents within the pillows do not escape into the hot oil.

Cilantro-Lime Cream

Ingredients:

1 cup sour cream
1 cup chopped cilantro
juice of 1 lime
salt

Preparation:

Put all the ingredients in a blender and blend thoroughly. Keep refrigerated until ready to use.

Ju bëftë mirë!
E.

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