Mediterranean Chicken

If you're like me, during the holiday season you don't have a lot of time to spend on the every-night dinners (sigh, or on your blog either)--too much baking, cleaning, wrapping, and shopping to do! During this time of year, I rely on tested meals that take 30 minutes or less to cook. Martha's Mediterranean Chicken is one of my favorites in that category. It's simple (which translates to affordable) and doesn't require a lot of time or babysitting. It's gorgeous when it comes out of the oven: a sizzling pan of gold and crimson and deep, olive purple.

I use an iron skillet because you can transfer it from the stove top to the oven. I also use skinless chicken breasts, and I don't feel I've been missing out...

I usually serve this with cous cous and a salad or green vegetable.

Redeeming Biscuits

Have you ever tried to make biscuits? Most of the recipes I've tested in the past have yielded rock-hard nuggets that only the dog could choke down. I usually make biscuits about once every other year because, inevitably, most of them sail straight into the trash can. I'm left with a breakfast-less table and a strong feeling of defeat. Still, I can't help trying to win the biscuit battle. Biting into a warm, buttery, fluffy biscuit is a rare and delicious treat; so far, I have only been able to daydream about the triumph of baking one.

Last week I saw this recipe and I was caught by the biscuit bug again. The limited number of ingredients--cream being the only binder--sparked my curiosity. The simplicity of it just made sense. Weapon in hand (spatula), I folded the flour and cream together, stopping just when the flour was moistened and the dough began to form. I didn't use a rolling pin, but flattened the dough with my hands.

The biscuits cut from the scraps are what we call "uglies." There's always a little courteous competition over these biscuits (you dear, no you, no you--I insist...) I think it's because of the way the uglies fall apart in nicely segmented bite-size pieces when you tug at them--perfect for buttering bit by bit.

These biscuits are the best I have ever had, and I still can't believe they emerged from the very oven installed in this old apt. Each biscuit had a light velvety crunch on the outside that gave way to a fluffy-soft inside. After my knock-down, fish-and-chips failure, it felt good to get on my feet again with these redeeming biscuits.

Bad Fish

This past Wednesday, I tried my hand at fish and chips. When I saw a recipe in my new Cooking Light mag., I had visions of paper bags filled with deliciously crisp, white, flaky fillets of haddock wreathed in chipped potatoes and dotted with malt vinegar--the kind of fish you can get in the UK and nowhere else. When I saw the recipe's gorgeous accompanying photograph, I thought--ha! I'll show London!

Mistake number one, I purchased a bag of frozen cod from Wal-mart. When I cut open the bag, soggy, grey fillets slid from their individually wrapped packets into a shallow dish. The fillets seemed to be disintegrating as I handled them, at which point I began to have second thoughts about the whole ordeal. Then I looked at the picture again and thought, surely the difference is that these fillets are raw and those are cooked. Onward ho! But I really should have stopped there.

I turned back to my heating skillet of oil and my bowl of flour. I added the called-for beer and whisked it into a frightening brown froth. I submerged each piece of fish beneath the bubbles and it came up dripping with a mix of what looked like a concoction of latex paint and scuzzy sea foam.

I plopped the fish into the oil, keeping the tearing pieces together with the flour/beer glue. After the alloted three minutes per side, the poor fillets looked as though they'd been beaten to a pulp. Like bad pancakes, I slapped them onto our plates, flung them on the table, and force fed myself and my family a truly abominable dish. Even the oven chips turned out poorly . . .

Lesson learned--never buy cheap fish! And also, I am no match for London.

(I tried to provide a link to the recipe, but found out that it had been removed from the Web site! Ha!)

Fennel-Dusted Chicken and Mashed Potatoes with Caramelized Shallots

Last Friday, our apartment was cold and dark when I came home. I heard the jingle of our dog's tags as she came to the door, and I gave her a blind pat. With the light flicked on, I strapped an apron around my waist in the glow of the kitchen. And from outside, the corner of our first floor place, enclosed by the quiet, early night, shone like a firefly to Brandon and Rosie who would've been driving towards it once I had already lit the burners on the stove.

That evening, I made Fennel-Dusted Chicken with Brown Butter and Capers--my favorite new recipe of the season. As you already know, I love brown butter, but I also love capers. Capers are flower buds plucked from shrubby plants found on the cliff sides of the Mediterranean. I feel like some sort of kitchen nymph serving flower-bud-speckled sauces on my fillets beef or chicken or fish to an audience unsuspecting of the little treasure they're about to eat.

Anyway, this chicken tastes impressive and you can make it in under 30 minutes (well, if you don't have a little baby crawling around to distract you!) The elegant butter sauce is tangy and aromatic with a touch of citrus-sweet. If you can't find ground fennel (I couldn't), just buy the whole fennel seeds. Grab a hammer (rolling pin will not do in this instance), place the fennel in a bag, and pound pound pound on the cutting board. It makes a lot of noise, but does the trick.

I paired the chicken with mashed potatoes with caramelized shallots. When you put these two on the plate, let the mashed potatoes lean into the caper sauce. A little extra butter never hurt a potato...

I kind of make up the potato recipe as I go along, but below are some guidelines. Please note that these are guidelines only.

Ingredients:
8 large potatoes (white or russet) cleaned, mostly peeled, and cut in half or thirds depending on size
4 tablespoons of butter (or more)
3-4 shallots, thinly sliced
Olive oil as needed
1/2 cup of buttermilk
1/2 cup of milk, plus more as needed
salt and freshly ground pepper
kosher salt
(other yummy additions are freshly grated parmesan cheese and sour cream)

Boil a large pot of water with plenty of salt. Add potatoes to the water and boil until they can be easily pierced with a fork--about 20 minutes for big potatoes.

While potatoes are boiling, bring some olive oil (about 2 tablespoons) in a small skillet to medium heat. Add shallots, decreasing heat if necessary. Season with a little kosher salt. Saute for 15 - 20 minutes until deep golden in color. Remove from heat.

Preheat broiler with rack in the middle or upper third of the oven.

Drain potatoes and mash by hand with a potato masher, until the pot of potatoes is broken up. Add butter, mashing to encourage it to melt. Add buttermilk, mashing a little more. (If adding cheese or sour cream, add here.) Then add enough milk to reach your desired consistency, mashing a little as you go. With a slotted spoon, remove the shallots from the oil and add them to the potatoes, folding them in with a spoon. Season with salt and pepper.

Spoon potatoes into a ceramic baking dish. Make six swirls in the top of the potatoes, leaving pools for butter. Cut pats of butter and place in the empty pools. Broil for a few minutes until some of the swirled peaks begin to brown and the butter has melted.

Weeknight Staples: Easy Northern Italian Pasta

This one is a staple for us. I stumbled upon this recipe after we returned from our honeymoon in Umbria, Italy. I've had a lot of fantastic Italian food (thanks to Nanny and my mom!) in my life, but I found the cuisine of the region we visited much different. The sauces really stumped me. I couldn't figure out what was different, aside from the exceptional quality of fresh ingredients. I could only describe them as, well, surprisingly buttery! This was true even in Rome, where we stayed for a couple of days lapping up cappuccinos, chocolate tortes, and, of course, plenty of pasta. When I saw this recipe with butter in it, I tried it. This sauce doesn't quite match up to the heavenly dishes I was treated to overseas, but it is the closest I've come so far. That aside, Brandon and I have really grown fond of this one . . .

The addition of milk and a hint of nutmeg might have a few southern Italian food lovers turning up their noses (eh hem, Dad!), but I promise, this is a great dish and won't taste either milky or nutty when you're done.

This is a perfect weeknight recipe. It's inexpensive; it makes a lot; and it gets better with age (next day is better than the first!)

Tips:
* Usually needs a little extra salt once plated.
* Serve with plenty of fresh grated parmesan cheese.
* Add a little finely grated cheese (1/4 cup) to the sauce to thicken it up a bit.
* While sauce is still in the pan, add some of the pasta water and cook a bit of it off so that the sauce is not so runny.
* Leftovers: reheat in a large skillet, adding a little water to freshen up the sauce.

I can't wait to try this next summer with sun ripened tomatoes from the garden!!

Salad Week: Arugula, Fig, Proscuitto, Walnut and Paremsan

Today marks the first day of Thanksgiving vacation. I'm home alone (wow!), baking a pie and listening to music, specifically Radiohead, Aimee Mann and Imogen Heap. I love cooking because I get so lost in it--or maybe I'm found in it. The rest of life pauses while I sift flour, salt and sugar and watch it float onto its own little white mountain. I start to remember things from my past like the Red House--a dilapidated place with peeling, fake brick siding that sat in our backyard at the house I grew up in. My siblings and I used to play a game, throwing rocks through the holes in the roof. I remember other things too: burs in my hair, the back road to my country high school, coffee with my sisters, buckles on a saddle for the girth, Brandon's old Subaru... I recollect myself and think about where I am and where I'm going. I have to cook, otherwise, I might get lost in my double-life routine.

More on that pie later . . . can't taste it until tomorrow.

Our second-to-last before Thanksgiving dinner salad was my favorite so far, winning by a nose because I have enjoyed them all. I have an arugula fetish, so it was bound to come out sooner or later. Unfortunately, Brandon does not like arugula, so I compromised with a mix. The dressing on this salad is really something special. You have to microwave the figs after dousing them with balsamic vinegar whisked with raspberry jam--a truly glorious concoction!

The recipe says it is optional to crisp the proscuitto before adding it to the salad; I would 100% disagree. If you are going to make this, you will not be sorry you took the extra time to crisp the garnish. I tried it both cooked and uncooked. There is only one choice here, and it is the first.


ARUGULA SALAD WITH FIGS, PROSCIUTTO, WALNUTS, AND PARMESAN

Serves 6.   Published November 1, 2006.
Although frying the prosciutto adds crisp texture to the salad, if you prefer, you can simply cut it into ribbons and use it as a garnish. Honey can be substituted for the jam in any of these salad recipes.

INGREDIENTS
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto , cut into 1/4-inch-wide ribbons
1 tablespoon raspberry jam
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup dried figs , stems removed, fruit chopped into 1/4-inch pieces
1 small shallot , very finely minced (about 1 tablespoon)
5 ounces lightly packed stemmed arugula (about 8 cups)
1/2 cup toasted, chopped walnuts
2 ounces Parmesan cheese , shaved into thin strips with vegetable peeler

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in 10-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat; add prosciutto and fry until crisp, stirring frequently, about 7 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to paper-towel-lined plate and set aside to cool.

2. Whisk jam and vinegar in medium microwave-safe bowl; stir in figs. Cover with plastic wrap, cut several steam vents in plastic, and microwave on high until figs are plump, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Whisk in remaining 3 tablespoons oil, shallot, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper; toss to combine. Let cool to room temperature.

3. Toss arugula and vinaigrette in large bowl; adjust seasonings with salt and pepper. Divide salad among individual plates; top each with portion of prosciutto, walnuts, and Parmesan. Serve immediately.

Salad Week: Mediterranean Chopped Salad

Exhausted. I'm thankful for salad week because I am exhausted. This morning when I woke up I felt like a limp bunch of sea weed left hanging on the beach from the pounding retreat of high tide.

Also this morning, I was reminded of the last line of The Great Gatsby: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." It had me combing our bookshelves in the bedroom to find it before I even brushed my teeth. The first time I read that was about nine years ago, but I will never forget it because it seemed to me, so true. I'm revisited by those words often as life changes, as things fall apart and rebuild, as I clutch to things and let others go. At this very moment, I don't feel that the past is so much my problem as is the tumultuous present; nevertheless, the words are there in my head reminding me that I am quite small and yet not alone.

At least my dinners this week don't require a lot of work, special tricks, or clean up.

Last night I made a classic Mediterranean chopped salad, which was hearty--chock full of chick peas and calamata olives and cucumber. Plenty of parsley gives the dish a distinctive herby flavor. The only thing I might consider adding to this recipe would be a few spicy banana pepper rings for garnish.

This recipe makes A LOT of salad. It's the first dinner salad we haven't been able to finish. A perfect dish for the season of pot-lucking.

Mediterranean Chopped Salad

Serves 4 as a light entrée and 6 as a side dish. Published July 1, 2009. From Cook's Illustrated.

Ingredients:

1 medium cucumber , peeled, halved lengthwise, seeded, and cut into 1/2-inch dice (about 1 1/4 cups)
1 pint grape tomatoes , quartered (about 1 1/2 cups)
Table salt
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 medium garlic clove , minced or pressed through garlic press (about 1 teaspoon)
1 (14-ounce) can chickpeas , drained and rinsed
1/2 cup chopped pitted kalamata olives
1/2 small minced red onion (about 1/4 cup)
1/2 cup roughly chopped fresh parsley
1 romaine heart , cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 3 cups)
4 ounces feta cheese , crumbled (about 1 cup)
Ground black pepper

Instructions:

1. Combine cucumber, tomatoes, and 1 teaspoon salt in colander set over bowl and let stand 15 minutes.

2. Whisk oil, vinegar, and garlic together in large bowl. Add drained cucumber and tomatoes, chickpeas, olives, onion, and parsley; toss and let stand at room temperature to blend flavors, 5 minutes.

3. Add romaine and feta; toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper and serve.