More Veggie Mischief: The Meat … and Three

Friends, I am filled with pride to report that, as of this week, I have managed to uphold my New Year’s Resolution to eat at least one vegetarian meal a week. Last week, it was Mark Bittman’s Chipotle Quinoa with Black Beans and Corn (recipe here), which I found super delicious. Here’s a bad picture of it:

Topped with avocado, cilantro, and queso fresco

Sorry, my kitchen has REALLY bad light. Believe, it tasted so much better than it’s Dog’s-Breakfast appearance would lead you to believe. I used this recipe as a guide, just hold off on that mango salsa mess. I mean, I love mango salsa, but not here. Kudos to Bill Royal for sharing this delicious recipe by Mark Bittman.

Okay, so this week, instead of doing a one-pot meal, I wanted a plate with several different things to eat. So, I decided to play with traditional “meat & three,” and just remove the meat. In the summer, this is really easy because produce so SO GOOD (see my post inspired by The Help), but winter’s bleak bounty is more challenge. I decided to take some healthy staples, add an Italian-ish twist, and see what cooked up. Here was my menu plan:

• Marinated Roasted Vegetables
• Braised Canellini Beans with Artichoke Hearts
• Sauteed Kale

I started with the marinated veggies, because I wanted them to marinate (duh) and they take the longest to cook. First I raided the tower of spices, herbs, and vinegars and made a tasty concoction.

Rosemary, lemon juice, red apple balsamic, red wine vinegar, fennel seeds, pepper flakes, oregano, basil, a little miso, some whole grain mustard, olive oil — pretty much everything. Into a ziploc bag it went, along with spears of sweet potato, a quartered onion, and two portabello mushroom caps. Twenty minutes later, everyone gathered on a sheet pan for a little GE suntan.

425 degrees for about an hour. Watch those mushrooms.

Next, it was Bean Time. A purist would have soaked his dry beans overnight, but I was working this menu after yoga and had to resort to canned. I sauteed some onion and garlic, added the rinsed beans (1 can), vegetable broth, rosemary, and one very special ingredient…

Parmesan cheese rind. Oh my, this added SO much flavor. This puppy has been hanging out in my fridge for weeks, just waiting for the right recipe. I just added a little corner, and it made the beens so rich. I also stirred in some marinated artichoke hearts in during the last 10 minutes, and finished with lemon zest and lemon juice. Salt and pepper, of course.

Finally, the Sauteed Kale. I followed this framework from Bon Appetit, which sounded delish.

I’ll be honest…I f*cked up the kale. The blanching went fine, the sauteeing went as planned, but instead of measuring the vinegar, I mischievously just glugged it in, resulting in a potful of T-T-T-T-TART greens! They turned out to be edible, but that’s a good lesson to learn in the kitchen: Go easy on the vinegar. David actually saved the day, suggesting I add a little sugar to cut the tang. It certainly helped.

And so, with the roasted veggies tender enough and all simmering having come to a cease, it was time to plate up. By this time I was pretty damn hungry, hence the hastily shot (i.e., BAD) picture of my Third Vegetarian Creation.

So, was it filling? Yes. I liked the mushrooms — David had a little trouble with their squishiness, but I thought they were kinda meaty. Sweet taters were great, but then again I’m a big fan anyway. And if you haven’t tried roasting onions yet, do it! So easy and so good.

I have no idea what to make next…I’ve done Indian, Mexican, and Italian-inpspired veggie dishes. Maybe Asian or Thai? Hmmm…

Have a great weekend and get into some Mischief!

The Vegetarian Suicides

Normally, New Year’s Resolutions elicit a HUGE eyeroll from yours truly. It’s all the big talkin’ and grandiose proclamations that turn me off, I guess. That, and all the commercials aimed at our Guilt Centers.

Turn on the TV — Jennifer Hudson is singing to herself about being hungry, Janet Jackson is whispering about how great it is to eat an overpriced Lean Cuisine, and Michael Phelps has put down his bong long enough to peddle Subway sandwiches.

But despite all of my Resolutionary Disdain, I actually have one of my own this year — to prepare a vegetarian meal at least once a week.

Why? No huge, dramatic reason. Veggies are good for you and I’m getting bored in the kitchen. There you go.

WARNING: Before you continue reading, please understand that you’re not going to walk away from this with a great vegetarian recipe. Or, a recipe at all, for that matter. Instead, you’re going to witness the massive amounts of self-created melodramatic culinary mischief I experienced in the attempt to overcompensate for the lack of animal ingredients in my supper.

And so … let’s begin.

Josh Attempts a Vegetarian Korma

For me, the biggest challenge to preparing an all-vegetable meal is my hardwired culinary stereotype about what constitutes a proper dinner plate: One meat, one starch, one veggie. Stripped of my stereotypical plate plan, I’m helpless, like a cat with a scarf tied around his midsection. I just lie on the floor, unable to move, flopping my tail in frustration.

I turned to Facebook for inspiration, and many friends stepped up to help. One of the first suggestions was a Vegetable Korma, which is basically a vegetable curry.  Matthew’s been on me for years to write about cooking Indian food, so I thought I’d start with that. I Googled “vegetable korma,” found this recipe, and proceeded to mischiefize it.

The recipe called for sautéing all the aromatics and veggies, adding broth, and them simmering the whole thing into submission. But my buddy Barefoot is constantly preaching about the virtues of roasting things for more flavor, so I got out a sheet pan.

This photo is a trick. I actually covered a crappier pan with tin foil and roasted the veggies on that. The truth is that I can't abide how ghetto tin foil looks in photographs, so I faked it because yes, I am that crazy on the inside.

I decided to roast half of my sweet potatoes and all of the mushrooms to add texture and condense the flavors. Mushrooms in particular go kinda meaty when roasted, so this prospect excited me. I drizzled the lot with olive oil, sprinkled with salt and pepper, then climbed on a stool to survey my wonderland of spices.

This is precisely why people shy away from making their own Indian food and just head to Silver Coin or Taj India — you could spend a fortune on spices. Here’s a trick — find an ethnic food store (Golden Temple, the Asian Market near the old Jazz Café, or even a Latin American grocery store) and buy whole spices in bulk. Then, get some mason jars, divvy up the goods, and you’re ready to cook pretty much anything. I realize this is fairly impractical for most folks, but it’s so much fun to look up on my shelf every day and see my Witch’s Brew-worthy collection of exotic goodies. The only thing missing is Eye of Newt, which I’m pretty sure I could find at the Red Pearl near Greensprings…

Anyway, this is going to be a long post, so you may want to grab some coffee and come back.

Okay — so my next step was to make a spice mixture for my oiled, waiting-for-roasting veggies (by now, they’re on their real pan). Garam Masala is a popular Indian spice mix made of a handful of toasted whole spices that are ground up. I used a pre-made garam mix, plus some curry powder, and roasted my veggies at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes.

Next, I got all my prep done. I rough-chopped onions, sweet potatoes, carrots, red bells, and zucchini, and set them aside.

Then I went on to finely dice my Indian Trinity — garlic, ginger, and more onion.

My Cooking Channel friend and Spice Goddess Bal Arneson says you don’t have to peel ginger — just chop it up with the skin on. So I do that, because it’s fun and kinda mischiefy.

After that, I raided my whole spices for some goodies to grind up and add to my trinity. Most of the time, I use an electric coffee grinder to bash up my spices, but looky what I found instead!

I love small things, and this has to be the world’s smallest mortar and pestle. It’s absolutely impractical, but SO MUCH FUN. I grabbed some whole cumin seeds, whole coriander, pepper flakes, onion seeds, and curry powder, and got to bashing! After getting my trinity sautéing in some canola oil, I added my spice mixture.

Keep your heat on medium low, so as to avoid burning the garlic. Next, I added the veggies, starting with the longest cookers (carrots and potatoes) and ending with the fastest cookers (peppers and onions). After a good sauté, I added some special broth, but not before adding a few cubes of pre-made mischief:

Any idea what these are? You know how you’re following a recipe, and it calls for one tablespoon of tomato paste or a quarter cup of coconut milk? Instead of trashing the extra, freeze it. I glopped out tablespoons of tomato paste onto a cookie sheet (with parchment paper), froze them, and voila, no waste! The coconut milk was a little more trouble — I had a plastic egg carton and a I poured it into the cups. Getting it out was a pain and very noisy, but still — no waste!

Anyway, I added these to my broth, along with a little more curry powder and a pinch of saffron (see above section about overcompensation for meat absence).

After that, I added ground cashews and greek yogurt to thicken it up. Here’s where the mischief starting compounding. Cashews were fine. No problem. But that greek yogurt — SONAFABITCH! I added it and it immediately separated, curdled, something — it completely nastified itself into my previously gorgeous, mischievously multistep Overcompensation Stew. Frantic Googling revealed the sad truth — yogurt just does this. DAMMMIT! Exhausted, I set my Cauldron of Disappointment to simmer and focused on the rice and the topping.

This got me excited again — I toasted coconut and chopped cashews together for a nice crunchy finish. This turned out to be quite delicious and temporarily distracted me from my bubbling Dish of Despair. I chopped some cilantro and tossed it into the pot — things were starting to look better — but it still wouldn’t get as thick as I wanted. By this time, I was OVER IT, so I pulled the culinary equivalent of a tourniquet — I made a slurry of cornstarch and water and added it to the fray. I added in my reserved, roasted mushrooms and sweet potatoes, and that was all I could do. At this point, I threw up my hands in surrender and began the plating process.

Saffron rice (made with actual saffron, see Overcompensating, paragraph 5), topped with Slurry Curry, topped with cilantro and green onion, sprinkled with a FABULOUS toasted cashew and coconut garnish.

I’m not gonna lie — it kinda looks like vomit. Hence the garnish. At least it looks like fancy vomit.

Fortunately, it tasted much better than that. Somehow, the Yogurt Separation Situation resolved itself (however I will NEVER use yogurt in this fashion again), and the flavors were really good. Was it as good as a curry dish with…say…chicken in it? I honestly think so. Taking the extra steps to roast and toast were time consuming, but worth it. So, after all that — SUCCESS! Vegetarian SUCCESS!

At least that’s what I thought. After dinner, I went into the kitchen to help David clean up. I started putting away spices, etc., and reached down to pick up the lid and put it back on the jar of my concentrated bouillon. Concentrated CHICKEN bouillon. Shit.

I’m coming clean here, but I’m still claiming this dish as my first vegetarian success. If any of you vegans out there want to challenge me on this, I’ll be glad to arm wrestle you for my honor. I eat meat the other six days a week, so I’m pretty sure I can take you.

Here’s looking forward to more GENUINE vegetarian mischief!

Merry Christmas from Kitchen Mischief!

 

 

Congratulations — you’ve made it to Christmas Eve! You’ve already survived 87 holiday parties, open houses, and meet-n-greets. So now it’s time to tuck in for the big holiday dinners, and for the mischief to really get warmed up!

In years past, my family has taken Christmas as a culinary challenge. Risotto and Beef Wellington graced the menu and turned out well, but we’ve also had our share of mischief. We went a little overboard with a torch one year and had more brulee than creme, and to this day Mother swears she’ll never make another Buche de Noel (Jennifer and I were teenagers and apparently heckled its appearance. I say ‘apparently’ because neither of us remember it, but Mom still wears her Culinary Purple Heart to this day).

This year, we ‘re totally slummin’ it. It’s Soup-a-Palooza at the Miller Household, featuring a Lentil-Spinach Soup (inspired by Matthew’s) a White Chicken Chili (with oodles of toppings) and piles upon piles of cornbread. Mom’s a little stressed about how you set a table that doesn’t look like a soup kitchen, but otherwise we’re kinda pumped about having a dinner plan that doesn’t require six weeks of preperation and an associate’s degree in culinary arts.

That being said, it wouldn’t be Christmas without just a scoche of Mischief. For a snack before we get to slurping our soup, we’re having Turkey Sausage Balls. I’m very proud of this very mischievous recipe, because for the first time, the recipe I devised in my Squirrel Brain actually turned out tasting BETTER than I had imagined. Vive le Mischief!

Before I dive i to briefest of procedurals, allow me some background justification. I LOVE sausage balls, but I am not a fan of the crazy amounts of saturated fat in pork sausage. Turkey sausage has the same flavor, but way less fat. So far so good. But the lack of fat also means a lack of moisture, and nobody loves a dry, Bisquick-brick sausage ball. To fix this, I added a mixture of sauteed onion and spinach, which also added flavor and increased the nutritional value. Okay, maybe not enough to counteract the cheese, but every little bit helps. Here’s the recipe, and how I did it.

Turkey Sausage Balls

1.25 lbs spicy turkey sausage
2.25 cups Bisquick or Pioneer baking mix
1.5 cups sharp cheddar cheese
half a cup of parmesan cheese
1 package of frozen spinach, thawed and chopped
1 yellow onion, diced
3 cloves of garlic
spices

First, set your sausage out to come to room temperature…otherwise when you mix it up with the other stuff later, your paws will FREEZE. Meanwhile, thaw your spinach in the microwave (follow package instructions). While that’s nuking, finely dice and start sauteeing your onions in a drizzle of olive oil and some salt and pepper for about seven minutes. Squeeze out all the moisture out of the spinach, chop it and finely and add it to the onions, along with the garlic. Shake in a little spice (I used  2 tsp of smoked paprika) and saute for three more minutes.

 

 

Meanwhile, add your Bisquick and shredded cheese to a large mixing bowl.

 

 

Here’a an important point regarding the cheese: First, shred your own cheese. It tastes SO much better. Second, use full-fat cheese. That reduced fat stuff is like orange wax. It’s a waste of calories. Go real or go home! Okay, time to tackle your sausage.

 

I used this Jennie-O stuff. Split the casings, then kinda crumble it in with your fingers. No, you DO NOT cook it first. YES, this creeps me out, too. But you need the fat from the cooking to make the baking mix moist. Just don’t think about it too much.

Next, mix in the slightly cooled spinach mixture with the sausage/bisquick/cheese mixture, and use your hands to mix it together. The addition of the spinach and onion makes it come together with less effort than normal pork-only sausage balls.

 

 

Finally, just roll into balls, place on a greased cookie sheet, and bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes. I have no “after” pictures because I only made two to test. Trust me, they were surprisingly delicious. We’re making the rest to precede our Soup-a-Palooza on Sunday.

So, that’s it from Kitchen Mischief, at least for 2011. Here’s wishing that whether you decide to go big or small, traditional or mischievous, that you have a fantastic holiday filled with friends, family, and good food. Merry Christmas!

 

 

Though the Weather Outside is Frightful…

All photos by Ray Hydrick

Like Josh mentioned in his last post, I am not dead.  Many people believed that I had been held captive by a renegade band of turkeys – kind of like the A-Team but with turkeys – that held me captive in an effort to protest the use their kind for Thanksgiving.  Though that scenario sounds very exciting, it is not true.  The truth is I have been traveling for work and haven’t been near a kitchen to cook anything…and I truly missed it. 

But recent travels have taught me something, it’s freakin’ cold up north!  So to combat that crappy, cold feeling, I made a little soup that will warm you up to the core.  You have to know I tried something a little different with this one.  I was watching the show Giada at Home and she mentioned adding her parmesan cheese rinds to a soup to give it a rich flavor (I keep my rinds in the freezer now for this exact reason)…and boy, it did. 

The line up

Sausage Lentil Soup
3 medium carrots, diced
2 stalks of celery, diced
1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 pound hot Italian sausage, casing removed
2 cartons of chicken stock
2 cans diced tomatoes
2 cups dried lentils, rinsed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon oregano
1/2 teaspoon thyme
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 bay leaves

In a large stockpot, add sausage to pot and saute over medium-high heat until brown.  Remove sausage and set aside. 

Not a very exciting "removing meat from the pot" picture

Add carrots, celery, onion and saute until tender – approx. 4-5 minutes.  Add garlic and saute one minute longer.  Add salt, pepper, pepper flakes, oregano, thyme, fennel seeds and bay leaves to the veggie mixture and saute for 1 minute to bring out the flavor.  Add sausage, tomatoes, lentils, and chicken stock.  Mix to combine.  Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer.  Finally, add your parmesan rinds. 

Adding the frozen rinds

Simmer soup for 45-60 minutes or until lintels are tender.  Remove 1/3 of the soup and use either a blender, food processor or hand blender to puree.  Add the puree back to the soup thicken it.

I love this blender

Serve with toasted bread and topped with parmesan.  If you want a punch of flavor, add a tablespoon red wine vinegar.

Fight back against the crappy cold with this awesome soup.  And by the way, if you see a turkey with a mowhawk please get out of his way…he has a bad attitude. 

Yes, gross...I know.

The Tale of Tammy the Turkey

For those of you who don’t know, my partner David lost his job the other day. Well, he didn’t so much lose it as they ripped it away from him. (Boo! HISSSSSS! If you need a fantastic video editor, let us know!) But that little melodrama got my mischief wheels a-spinnin.’ For the first time since my turn in the unemployment line, I picked up a Publix Weekly Deals booklet and began hunting for the best money-saving deals.

Imagine my delight to find that turkey was on sale for .59 cents a pound! Dog food isn’t that cheap! Hot diggity dog — my decision was made. I, Josh Miller, would march into Publix, buy a dirt-cheap bird, and feast like a king for pennies on the dollar. I practically bruised myself from all the back-patting.

My Sunday Plan was all set. I’d bake my bird, then prep all my ingredients and fixins for a “Leftover Palooza” — a series of recipes for Kitchen Mischief showing all the great things you could do with your Thanksgiving remnants. However, in my attempt to manufacture mischief, I ran headfirst into genuine mischief…

That bird was frozen solid. We’re talking an iceberg of poultry that could have pecked a hole in the Titanic. I dashed off to consult my friend Google, who confirmed the turkey packaging: My Big Cold Bird required a 6-8 hour spa treatment. Yes, Tammy (that’s the turkey) demanded 7 hours in cold (not warm!) water, changed out every hour on the hour. She was nagging for a pedicure, but I was like, “Bitch, you ain’t got no feet,” to which she would have had to nodded in agreement, but she also had no head. Consequently, communication was difficult. So I just gave her a bath.

Six years later, when Tammy was FINALLY finished with her spa treatment, it was on to the next step — which turned out to be a much more invasive procedure. If you’re sensitive, scoot along now. Tammy’s tale is about to get graphic.

After her Spa Treatment, it was time for Tammy the Turkey to visit the Lady Doctor. I always forget how gross this part is. If I did remember, I would buy gloves. But I did not. So I scrubbed in and prepared to do the dirty duty. Usually, it’s over pretty fast, but that stubborn bird was still icy inside, so instead of quickly removing the neck and getting Tammy back into a more ladylike position, I had to use both hands. Dear Lord it was so obscene.

Dear Lord — what happened to my neck?

Ten minutes later, Tammy’s procedure was complete. But the mischief was far from over. Tammy’s packaging clearly stated “Frozen Turkey with Neck and Giblets.” The problem was there were no giblets to be seen. So I got closer to that poor, violated bird.

Nothing. No bag of giblets, no icy giblets stuck to Tammy’s cavernous interior, no sneaky giblets hiding out under her neck flap. Tammy was Gibletless. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Did the other turkeys make fun of her? Call her names? Tease her in the turkey locker room? Poor, sad Turner-Syndrome Tammy.

Aside from the nagging horror that either — A) I had missed the giblets and would end up baking their plastic bag into the turkey, resulting in some REAL mischief, or B) that I had gotten distracted and put the giblets somewhere random I wouldn’t notice until they started smelling, like the dryer or something — I was relieved. I know traditionalists and especially pretentious “Whole Animal” Foodies are all about eating the nasty bits, I say “No Thank You.” You can keep your organ snacks. Blech.

Bless Tammy’s heart (oops, nevermind, that was in the bag of Missing Giblets) (wait, does that make her the Tin Man?) (Would you stop with tangents and wrap up this damn post, please!) — she needed some pampering after her manhandling. So naturally I offered to give her a Butter Massage. Basically, I mixed unsalted butter with lots of salt, pepper, and minced garlic (add whatever herbs you like), then gave Tammy the best rubdown of her sad, gibletless life.

No photography allowed in the massage parlor.

I was thinking that Tammy was looking kind of pale, so I sent her to the tanning bed. I figured 3-4 hours in at 325-350 degrees would give her a nice browning that said “California Classy” instead of “Jersey Shore Trashy.” A little tin-foil umbrella half-way through kept her from getting too sunburned.

And then, after all of that drama, Tammy was done. And just look how beautiful she turned out.

Maybe beautiful's not the right word. Let's just go with "done."

After all that, quite frankly I’m worn out. Tune in next week and I’ll tell you about all of the fun culinary trips we took Tammy on. Well, parts of Tammy, anyway…

PS: Matthew is not dead. He has been traveling for work like a crazy person. We’re cooking up some fun together tonight, so look out for some fun posts from him to come!

Hungry for The Hunger Games!

It might surprise you that not only do Matthew and I know how to cook … we know how to READ, too! Wowsa — we’re regular Renaissance Men, eh? When we’re not reading War & Peace, or Aristotle in its original Greek, we opt for lighter fare — you know, to give our brains a little break.

That’s why we’re HUGE fans of The Hunger Games, a trilogy of young adult novels. Before your inner AP English teacher comes out, just because it’s YA doesn’t mean it’s childish or lame. The Hunger Games is set in a dystopian future where a subjugated population is forced to surrender their children to fight to the death in a yearly reality show-like competition for the ruling elite. Think Survivor + Harry Potter + Gladiator. The result is so NOT Twilight and so very much the most exciting series I’ve read in ages. I’m not saying it’s cerebral — it’s just a whole lot of fun. And they’re making movies of them, like BIG ones. See the cast pics here.

So, what does that have to do with Kitchen Mischief? Well, ever since enjoying the hell out of the books, it’s been my mission to share them with everyone. After I got Matthew hooked, I convinced my book club to read it. David and are members of Not Your Mother’s Book Club, and The Hunger Games was my pick for September. As the host, I was responsible for the food, the book review, and a little mischief, of course!

Presenting the contestants for the first-ever Hunger Games Deathmatch Trivia (AKA, Not Your Mother's Book Club)

While the Book Club members arrived, we snacked on a simple appetizer plate inspired by the first “meal” the book’s main character, Katniss Everdeen, shares with her friend while hunting in the woods: Basil-wrapped goat cheese, accompanied by fresh bread and blackberries.

Because The Hunger Games is told from the perspective of a historically underfed person, the author (Suzanne Collins) is careful to place great emphasis on the descriptions of the meals her character share. Later in the story, one very rich meal makes a repeated impact on the Katniss. In the book, it’s described as lamb stew with dried plums served over wild rice. I knew immediately that was my Book Club dish, but I was nervous about serving lamb. Why? Well, lamb is one of those things that folks seem to either LOVE or HATE. Plus, there’s the whole cute-n-cuddly factor. Oh, and there’s the fact that I, the cook, am not exactly a fan-o-lamb. Once, on a date at Chez Fon Fon, I ordered it and COULD NOT EAT IT. And my date was paying. At Chez Fon Fon. How embarrassing.

So of course the absolutely rational choice was to prepare an obscenely large vat of lamb stew (that I’ve never made before) for a group of people who may or may not be lamb-lovers. Ahem … with NO back-up plan. At all. Damn the torpedoes! Full steam ahead!

I started with a recipe from Cooking Light, my mainstay of culinary inspiration. Then I added, substituted, tweaked and prayed the recipe into mischievous submission. The result? A surprisingly tasty, not-so-lamby, make-ahead stew that held true to the book without sending my Book Club to the bathroom. Here’s how it went down.

Capitol Lamb Stew with Dried Plums

2 lbs beef, cut into half-inch cubes
1 lb lamb, cut into half-inch cubes
3 tsp kosher salt
4 tsp cumin, divided
2 tsp black pepper
4-5 cups onion, chopped
2 tsp cinnamon
9 garlic cloves, chopped
42 oz low-sodium beef stock
1.5 tsp red pepper
6 tbsp honey
4 tbsp tomato paste
2 cups dried plums, chopped

Finishers: sherry vinegar, orange zest, orange juice

First things first — you’ll notice this is not primarily a lamb stew. It’s mostly beef. It’s a cheaper, less fatty, and safer way to get that lamby kick without slipping into mutton mania. Season the meat with 2 tsp salt, 2 tsp cumin, and 1 tsp pepper. Heat a dutch oven over medium-high heat, add a tbsp or so of olive oil, and sear the meat in batches, being careful to not crowd the pan. Cook each batch for just a minute or so — you’re searing to lock in flavor, NOT cook through.

Next, remove the meat, reduce the heat to medium, and add the onions and remaining salt, pepper, and cumin, plus the cinnamon (you made need to add a little more oil). Cook for two minutes, add the garlic, cook a minute, then add half the beef stock. Add the honey, tomato paste, and red pepper, stir to incorporate, then add the rest of the stock. Simmer for a couple of minutes, then add the dried plums.*

*A Mischief Note About Dried Plums
You may be wondering, “Where do you find these exotic-sounding dried plums?” Start by raiding your grandmother’s pantry. Yes, my friends, dried plums are really just prunes.  I’m guessing the Sunsweet Prunes Marketing Team got together one Monday morning and decided they needed to rebrand this poop-inducing fruit. Honestly, it was probably a good decision. I mean, what do YOU think about when I say the word “prunes?” That’s what I thought.  Back to the recipe.

Choose Your Own Adventure
At this point, you can go in one of two directions. I transferred the mixture into my crockpot, set it on low, and cooked it all day. For a quicker stovetop option, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for an hour or so, until the lamb is tender. I can not confidently recommend this method, but it seems logical. I’ll say this: the meat in the crockpot version was fall-apart tender, like short ribs.

Finishers, for the Faint of Heart
I mentioned earlier that I have a sordid culinary history with lamb. Therefore, I was perhaps a little anxious about serving a up a pot Shepherd Stew. So, I added a few touches to enhance (mask) the lamb. Namely, a quarter cup of vinegar (I used sherry but red wine would work), and the zest and juice of an orange. It added a little zip and freshness, and honestly, was a nice finishing touch.

I served the stew over wild rice alongside a simple salad of mixed greens and orange segments. It wasn’t the prettiest dish, but it tasted really good.

A Fun Game for Book Clubs
For a little fun after the review, we played a little game, devised by yours truly. I called it The Hunger Games Deathmatch  Trivia. Going around the table, I asked each person a trivia question and if they answered wrong, they had to choose a “death” out of the bowl and read it aloud (download questions and deaths here). OK, so it was a little nerdy, but if you’ve read the books, it’s pretty fun.

So even if you haven’t read The Hunger Games (which you should), or you’re not a lamb-lover, try out this stew. It has really nice flavors for the fall season, and, with just beef, wouldn’t taste baaaaaaaaad at all. Sorry … couldn’t resist! Happy mischief-making, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

The Pleasures of Poland

She wears her sun-glasses at night...

This week, my Mother-in-Law (Patricia, or Mom2, as I call her) wheeled into town for a two-day visit. Usually, I cook dinner when she comes , but she insisted on cooking and “treating” us to a Polish dinner. Six years ago, I would have been much more alarmed, but I’ve been slowly accustomed to the realm of Eastern European cuisine. And while it’s certainly not my favorite, I have developed a tolerance, nay, even a fondness, for pierogi, bratwurst, and sauerkraut.

On her previous stop in Chicago, Pats hit up a Polish food store (hence the Culinary Tour of Poland). I’m not sure if she was stocking her fallout shelter or planning to open her own Polish Quickie Mart, but she arrived with a metric shit ton of Eastern European food.

I walked in from work to the scent of Poland wafting through the house. It’s a sharpness and a sourness — not unpleasant, just, well … Polish. We exchanged hugs and hellos and I surveyed the culinary landscape. Pot of soup bubbling on the stove. An obscenely large bratwurst heating up in the skillet. So far, so good.

Stop it.

But we were soon to find out that Patricia’s raid of the Polish Publix yielded more than we’d bargained for.

“Josh, you gotta try this,” Pats said, turning toward me with a surprisingly dark-colored link of sausage. “What is it, blood sausage?” I joked, only to realize it was not a joke at all.

It was sausage. Made with beef blood. Blood. From beef. Cows. Cow blood sausage. Hesitantly, I reached out to take it from her, and it was cold to the touch. Cold. The room grew quiet and I could hear my own heartbeat.

“Is it … [gulp] … cooked?” I asked, with a slight quiver to my voice.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she answered, turning to the fridge to forage for more Polish treasures.

I cut David a panicked glance, which he answered with widened eyes. I had no choice. If you’ve read the rulebook, no good comes from refusing food from your mother-in-law. Resigned to my fate, I went to work removing the casing of said blood sausage.

On a good day, with a familiar ground meat, I’m squeamish of sausage casings. We all know what it looks like. And THAT, my friends, is a revolting, disturbing, and conflicting culinary image. And I can’t even BEGIN to get into “natural” casings. Seriously, just writing about it makes me lightheaded and pre-nauseous. Usually I just don’t think about it. I go to my happy place, and just eat. But the Polish Black Death Blood Sausage would not permit me such escapism.

With Pats still rummaging in the fridge, and David pantomiming a dry heave, I discard the gray, filmy sausage casing. Commence full body shudder. Now there’s nothing separating me from the blood meat. To my horror, it’s mushy and unsliceable, so I proceed to fork-mash it into a spreadable consistency. I’m close to blacking out when I make my next disturbing discovery.

“Umm, Patricia, what are these … chunks?” My squirrel brain surged out of control: Fat? Intestine? Brain? GONADS?!!?

“Oh that’s just barley,” she responded, dropping my blood pressure about 200 points.

At this point, I’m still not 100% sure that the sausage isn’t raw, but I’m so relieved that the chunks are barley and NOT balls that I dive right in. So we grab some crackers and get to spreading.

I looked at David, he looked at me, and with the joint courage of our convictions, we placed the crackers spread with mashed blood sausage into our mouths and began our tentative chewing.

I focused every ounce of my attention on my tongue, anxiously awaiting a report from the front lines. The cracker began to break up, and it was time to taste the sausage. Was it going to pungent? Was I going to taste blood, like I had just bitten my lip? If I were to become a vampire, could this be a viable diet alternative?

But the report back was much less alarming than I had expected. It tasted like meat. Bland meat. Not blood at all. Which caused my blood pressure to drop another 50 points. I’m not saying I want to eat it everyday, or even understand why ANYONE would think that BLOOD is a good addition to ANY food item, but it wasn’t repulsive.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. In fact, it was quite tasty. The bratwurst was predictably good, as were the pierogi. Here’s a quick tour of our menu:

FYI: These were cooked in a STICK of butter. A STICK! Thank you, Polish Paula Deen!

Here, P-Diddy is cooking up some pierogi. You have probably heard of these before —they’re available in most grocery stores. They’re basically like ravioli, except with odd fillings, like potato, plum, or sauerkraut.

No, this is not one of those mortifying Halloween bloody brain dishes from last year’s Hallo-What the Hell is THAT? Post. This is a gołąbki. Huh? Gołąbki. What? Gołąbki. They pronounce it Ga-wump-ky. But it’s not spelled that way. Like the way you spell Colonel but it sounds like Kernel. Exasperating! Anyway, this lovely creation is basically mini-meatloaf, wrapped in cabbage, and topped with marinara. What kind of meat? Excellent question. I’m still not 100% sure. Neither was Patricia. Pork? Goat? Quarter horse? Your guess is as good as mine!

Apparently, the Polish condiment of choice is not mayonnaise, but Polonaise. Catchy name, right? It’s a brightly colored mixture of beets and horseradish. Please, try to control yourself. (It was actually pretty tasty)

All dramatics and jokes aside, it was nice to climb over my crumbling culinary Berlin Wall and get to know something different. Will I start wrapping chicken in cabbage, or pan-frying potato stuffed pasta in a stick of butter? Absolutely not. But I have to give Patricia props workin’ it out and gettin’ her Polish on! We had a good time, and it was fun to see David and his family share a “familiar” meal.

Besides, with enough good German beer you can survive anything, even Blood Sausage!

Now that’s my kind of mischief!

Looks like ALPO, tastes like heaven

All pictures but this one by Ray Hydrick

You can see from Josh’s post last week that we have been inspired by the farmer’s market and good ol’ southern cooking here in the Mischief kitchen; and this week’s post is no exception.  Recently, I had dinner at another local favorite restaurant, Hot & Hot Fish Club.  Chris Hastings, Executive Chef, makes a salad that has been a staple on their spring/summer menu that combines the best of farmer’s market fare – heirloom tomatoes, black-eyed peas and sweet corn.  Just this past weekend Chef Hastings made this same dish at Pepper Place Farmer’s Market.  That’s all I the prodding I needed, I must make this dish before all these seasonal treats are gone.

If you happened to click on the link that contained the salad recipe, you will see several differences between the one I made and the original.  Why?  Because I didn’t read the recipe before going to the store and I had to improvise – hello mischief!  So what changes did I make? 

• I didn’t use fried okra.  I just didn’t want to heat up a cauldron of oil to fry five pieces of okra, so I decided to use croutons.  Little pieces of toasted bread cannot replace the yumminess that the okra brings but I did save myself from being marred by grease splatters. 
• Also, his chive dressing contains creme fresh and I don’t normally keep that in the house, so I used what I thought would give the dressing the tangy flavor – a little buttermilk and goat cheese. 
• And most of all, his plate presentation.  Josh can tell you I can get a little picky when it comes to plating for photos or for dinner parties for that matter, so the combination of these shapes was a nightmare.  Balancing these tomato slices on black-eyed peas is like watching a circus bear balancing on a ball, so I was calling it the “Tower of Crap” all night until this past weekend at Orange Beach the waiter said my dish I was ordering “looks like ALPO, tastes like heaven” (he is NOT on their sales & marketing team).  The adage seems fitting for this as well.    

Let’s sling some ALPO, shall we?

Heirloom Tomato Salad
1 lb fresh or frozen black-eyed peas (not canned!)
2 ears of fresh corn
1 tablespoon of butter
6 strips of bacon
2 varieties of medium heirloom tomatoes
2 cups french bread, cubed
2 tablespoons balsamic dressing (recipe below)
2 tablespoons chive dressing (recipe below)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil

Balsamic Dressing
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small garlic clove, grated or minced
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Salt & Pepper

Chive Dressing
1 small garlic clove, minced or grated
3 tablespoons chives or scallions, finely chopped
1 large egg yolk
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons buttermilk
4 oz goat cheese, softened
Salt and pepper

Prep Work – Croutons
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  On a sheet pan arrange bread cubes in a single layer.  Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Mix to combine.  Place in oven for 8-10 minutes or until lightly toasted.

Don't let them burn like Josh and I tend to do.

Prep Work – Black-eyed Peas
In a large sauce pan add black-eyed peas and three strips of bacon that has been cut into one-inch pieces.  Add a teaspoon of salt and cover with water (just above the peas).  Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer for 12-15 minutes or until tender but not mushy.

Remember if they are fresh, don't forget to wash them and look for bad ones.

Prep Work – Sauted Corn
Using your knife, carefully cut the corn kernels from the cob.  In a saute pan, add the tablespoon of butter over medium heat.  Once the butter is melted and bubbling, add the corn.  Saute for about 5-8 minutes until tender but not mushy.  Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. 

I should have used Josh's trick with the bunt pan.

Prep Work – Bacon
Since we are only cooking three slices of bacon, use the microwave.  Place the bacon between several paper towels on a plate.  Microwave 3-5 minutes (depends on microwave) or until brown.  The bacon will crisp as it cools. 

Prep Work – Tomatoes
Cut each tomato into 1/4 inch slices. 

Look how cool this heirloom tomato is!

Place on a plate and drizzle with a little balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. 

Macerating tomatoes

Prep Work – Balsamic Dressing
Place balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, garlic, salt and pepper in a small bowl.  While whisking, drizzle in the olive oil until thoroughly combined.

Prep Work – Chive Dressing
Unless you have a good whisking arm and don’t mind the occasional splatter, I would suggest making this in a small food processor.  Combine all ingredients into the processor (or mixing bowl) and mix to combine.  While whisking, drizzle in the olive oil until thoroughly combined.  Salt and pepper to taste. 

Assembling (Finally!)
After 18 hours of prep work (kidding), it is now time to assemble the salad.  Place a tomato slice on a plate, top with a teaspoon or so of both the black-eyed peas and corn, add another tomato slice, add more corn and peas.  Add the final tomato slice and add the peas, corn and crumbled bacon.  Drizzle with two tablespoons of both the balsamic and chive dressings.  Top with 5-8 croutons and enjoy. 

Okay, so I realize that you just probably spent 2 hours prepping for this salad but it is totally worth it.  And hopefully, it looks better that a dogs breakfast.  Below is a picture of Chris Hastings version and then mine.  You be the judge – ALPO or beauty in the eye of the beholder?

Inspired by “The Help”

After all of the hype, to be honest, I was a little concerned about watching “The Help.” I read the book and LOVED it, but we all know that Hollywood has a bad habit of butchering big-screen adaptations.

To my surprise and delight, the movie was delightful — funny, poignant, and suspenseful in its own Southern-Gothic way. Every actor was spot-on, from Cicely Tyson’s frail tenderness (tears rolling down my cheeks!)  to Viola Davis’ stern resilience. And just like everyone is saying, Bryce Dallas Howard was great, but I was most pleased that Emma Stone really pulled off Skeeter without being trite or too earnest.

Anyway, so you may be asking, what the hell does this have to do with Kitchen Mischief? Well, as I was sitting in the theater, scarffing down pawfuls of popcorn, when I became entranced by the images on the screen before me.

I’m not talking about Allison Janney or Octavia Spencer here — I’m talking about larger-than life, screen-spanning platters of fried chicken, black-eyed peas, fresh tomatoes, and cornbread. David said he knew it when he saw that dish of peas — I was cooking soul food for supper!

This is David looking over at me in the movie.

Everyone does soul food in their own way. Basically, I start all of mine the same way — with PIG. I get bacon started sautéing, then when it starts to brown, I add diced onions and pepper. From there, you just add the goodness. Peas in one pot, greens in the other, followed by a quick heat-through and a hefty douse with chicken stock. Season and simmer until done.

I replaced the fried chicken with a buttermilk-marinated, oven-baked chicken recipe from Cooking Light. It’s not quite as good as fried, but it gets the flavor across.

We finished it off with a sliced summer tomato (salted and peppered, please!) and a little Farmers’ Market hot pepper relish for the greens.

So — here’s a great plan for the weekend. Go to the Farmers’ Market on Saturday and grab some lady peas and fresh tomatoes … maybe even a jar of pepper relish, perhaps some fresh corn! Then, hit up a Sunday matinee of “The Help,” go home, and treat yourself to a little plate of Heaven.

Have a great weekend, and be sure to go back for seconds!

Oh, and by the way, we did NOT have “Chocolate” Pie for dessert!

Pimp My Leftover

All photos by Ray Hydrick

Do you have those leftovers that you just can’t make yourself throw out? That original dish took a lot of time and love to prepare and it tasted so dang good when it was fresh; but put it in plastic ware and store in the fridge for one night and you avoid it like a plague. If it is not soups, chilis or spaghetti sauces (things that get better with time), the dish never comes out to be enjoyed again, it goes straight into the trash. Basically it goes into food purgatory.

I am hoping to offer this particular dish, the one that never seems to make it out of my fridge in time, a pardon from the trash. That dish is mashed potatoes. The most creamy of potatoes can turn into a paste-like mass in the fridge, never to regain their original deliciousness. I am here to pimp this leftover.

Let me preface this recipe by telling you how I make my mashed potatoes. I start with skinned, large-diced potatoes in cold, salted water and boil until tender. While the potatoes boil, combine 1 1/2 cups of milk, 4 tablespoons of butter, salt & pepper to taste in a saucepan and slowly heat (do not boil) until hot. Start mashing the potatoes while adding the milk mixture. You may not need all the milk, just add to your desired consistency. Now, let’s get pimpin’!

Mashed Potato Cakes
4 cups mashed potatoes, colder the better
1 small onion, diced
4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup parmesan cheese, grated
salt and pepper
Panko breadcrumbs to coat (approx. 2 cups)
1 teaspoon olive oil
Cooking spray

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees. In a saute pan, heat olive oil over medium heat until it glistens. Add onion. Saute until brown and caramelized. Remove from pan and spread on plate to cool.

In a bowl, combine the mashed potatoes, onion, flour, egg, parmesan cheese, and salt and pepper (to taste).

Mix to combine

I used a ice cream scoop to portion out six big cakes – you could do 12 smaller cakes but I was tired and ready to quit pimpin’.

Ice cream scoops...used for more than just ice cream!

Form into a simple patty and place in the Panko crumbs. There you can better form the patties and keep them from falling apart. Coat the patties well with the Panko.

Rough handling is not advised...they'll fall apart.

Carefully place on a sprayed or lined sheet pan (either parchment paper or silpat) and spritz with cooking spray. Bake for 12 minutes. Rotate the pan and bake for additional 12 minutes.

The Original
My original meal consisted of grilled ribeye steaks, mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach with leek and raisins (sounds strange but it taste so good). From this meal, I created my potato cake and stacked the spinach and steak…it was yummy.

Don't judge the over cooked steak...remember, it was a leftover.

It may not be in your nature to forgive, but when it tastes this good you’ll forget that these were leftovers. Give them a second chance…they just need a little love, and maybe some mischief.