Thursday, July 9, 2009

Kaffir Lime Lemon Drop, Irma Rombauer and Balancing Joy and Recession

A friend of mine gave me a magazine the other day in which there was an article about the Joy of Cooking, and it's author Irma Rombauer. I've had this book ever since.....well....let's just say since before I can remember. It was the first book I used to bake French bread. I've relied on the conversion tables, and when I lived in New Mexico, the advice on cooking and baking at high altitudes. I didn't know much about it's author, Irma Rombauer. I wasn't aware, for instance, that her husband had committed suicide after the 1929 stock market crash, and that Irma turned to writing a cookbook as her way of coping with the loss. I'm not sure I ever realized that this book came out originally in the 1930s, and that it addressed the struggle of putting food on the table in economic hard times. I just used it as a reference book more than a cookbook, and for that purpose it worked very well.
The copy I've got was published in 1964 by Marion Rombauer Becker - Irma's daughter, and was "modernized" to include new sections called "The Foods We Eat" and "Know Your Ingredients". I absolutely adore the story with which she opens her section on the foods we eat. "We enjoy the cynical story of the old-fashioned doctor who insisted first on going straight to the kitchen of the afflicted household. Not until he had effusively thanked the cook for giving him a new patient did he dash upstairs to see how he could relieve the cook's victim."

Irma was apparently an excellent hostess. She could throw a party in a heartbeat and keep everyone entertained. The current edition of the book begins with how to set the table, and includes instruction for both formal and informal dining etiquette.
Her original edition also started with entertaining, and apparently began by extolling the virtues of cocktails. She declares that whatever mixtures you put together for your cocktail, you should keep the alcohol content of your drink up to 60% and never below half. It's pretty clear why she was such a successful hostess! She also admonishes us to remember that since cocktails are served before a meal, they should never be too sweet or overloaded with cream or egg. Their job is to stimulate the appetite, not to spoil it.

These days, there are many people struggling to put food on their tables. There are many more people trying to keep the roof over their heads so that they will have a place for that table. But the thing to remember is what the ancient wise men told the king when they were asked to sum up the wisdom of the world: And this too shall pass. Hard times call for an enterprising spirit. In other words, it's time to take those lemons that life just handed to you and make lemonade.

Well, I know that I'm one of the lucky ones because I still do have a roof over my head, and being self-employed means that I still have a job. So when one of my patients came in with a huge bag of lemons, I thought it wise to make lemonade. But wait! Why stop at lemonade? Why not put a twist on the old and create something new? Besides, I had some kaffir lime leaves leftover in the fridge, and I wanted to use them. So I came up with this and taste tested it. May I be the first to tell you that it was delicious?

I decided to start by making a simple syrup and flavoring it with the lime leaves. Basically equal parts sugar and water (or less water, depending upon your taste), heat to dissolve the sugar, and throw in a handful of lime leaves - probably at least 8 of them - then let them steep for at least an hour. Pull out the leaves and you can store this in a jar in the fridge.

For each Kaffir Lime Lemon Drop cocktail, you will need:

1 1/2 jiggers of vodka
3/4C simple syrup
3/4C lemon juice

Mix all the ingredients together and shake in a martini shaker. Strain into martini glasses and garnish with a lime leaf.
What's your favorite old fashioned cookbook on your shelf? Is there one you inherited from your mom or aunt, and you just can't let go if it's stained pages?

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Every culture has it's comfort foods. For some people, it's a bowl of chicken soup that makes the world seem right, even in the pouring rain. For others, it's fried chicken. And for still others, it's a bowl of chili - winter or summer. We seek these foods out when we're stressed, when we're beginning to feel a cold coming on, or when the world just seems too much with us. Something about their smell, their texture, their taste - tells us that it's OK - we're OK. That this too shall pass.

Now, don't ask me how a nice Jewish girl originally from Long Island winds up with risotto as a comfort food. I mean, if I read the manual, it would probably say chicken soup - right? And chicken soup is great too - don't get me wrong. But these days, with a dislocated little toe and June gloom, I find myself turning to risotto for comfort. The texture is perfect. And someone gave me some sliced truffles which came in water. And I still have lots of dried shitaki mushrooms. So what's a girl to do?

I'll tell you what I tried to do. I tried photographing the risotto with the veggies I had grilled to go with it - red pepper, zucchini and eggplant. For some reason, not even Photoshop wants to open those pictures. They are, apparently, in an unrecognizable format. I see another learning curve in my future..........

Since I've made this kind of a dish before, I'm going to cheat a little and give you the recipe as it appeared here. Besides, I just went back and re-read that post, and in a heartbeat I was back in Rome. If you have the time and would care to take a quick jaunt to the Eternal City, be my guest!

What foods do you call comfort foods?

BTW - The black phoebe is using the bush outside my window as a culinary lesson for her young. Beyond fabulous!

Ingredients:

Leeks:
2 large leeks (white and pale green parts only), halved, thinly sliced crosswise (about 2 cups)
3/4 cup whipping cream

Mushrooms:
1 pound shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, cut into 1/4- to 1/3-inch-thick slices
1 large onion, halved, thinly sliced lengthwise
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
1 tablespoon white truffle oil
1 teaspoon minced fresh thyme leaves

Risotto:
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) butter, divided
1 large onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups arborio rice or medium-grain white rice
1/2 cup dry white wine
5 cups (or more) hot vegetable broth
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 teaspoons shaved or chopped black truffle (optional)
Chopped fresh parsley

Preparation

For leeks:
Bring leeks and cream to boil in heavy medium saucepan. Reduce heat to medium and simmer until leeks are tender and cream is thick, stirring often, about 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill. Rewarm before continuing.

For mushrooms:
Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss all ingredients on rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast until mushrooms are tender and light brown around edges, stirring occasionally, about 45 minutes. DO AHEAD: Can be made 2 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature.

For risotto:
Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook until beginning to soften, about 5 minutes. Add rice; stir 1 minute. Add wine and stir until almost all liquid is absorbed, about 1 minute. Add 1 cup hot broth. Simmer until broth is almost absorbed, stirring often, about 4 minutes. Add more broth, 1 cup at a time, allowing each addition to be absorbed before adding next and stirring often, until rice is tender and mixture is creamy, about 20 minutes longer. Stir in leek mixture, mushroom mixture, remaining 2 tablespoons butter, cheese, and truffle. Transfer to large bowl, sprinkle with parsley, and serve.

Market Tip
White truffle oil is sold at some supermarkets and at specialty foods stores and Italian markets. Black truffles are available at specialty foods stores and from igourmet.com. A flavorful substitute for the shaved truffles is the Truffle Gatherers Sauce ($19), which can be ordered from fungusamongus.com.

Kitchen Notes:
I had truffle oil this time, but not leeks. I used scallions instead. And, as I mentioned, I used truffles that had originally come sliced and in a can with water. I have never looked for this type of can. The woman who gave it to me is the wife of a chef. It helps to have connections!!

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Shrimp Curry and a Love Affair

Summer is here. I have a lovely black phoebe which visits the bush outside the window of my home office. I love this little bird. He's bold as brass, and doesn't seem to give a rip if I'm outside working in my garden. He's on a mission, and nothing as crass as a human would stop him. He reminds me how simple life can be - aim for the berries. Eat. Perform feather maintenance. Is there a problem?
Summer is here and I've gotten a "new"/used camera body (yeah!! A Canon 40D!), and a "new" lens - a fast 17-55. Yeah, I know - still no macro lens. It will have to wait for now. But the pull towards creativity has gotten stronger, and my ancient Rebel was beginning to feel about the same as using dial-up.

Summer is here, and I'm using my oven less, my stovetop and grill more. Cherries are in the markets, and so are kaffir lime leaves - my latest culinary love. I'm putting them in dishes which could use a note of citrus, and these days I seem to want that note more and more - in my food and soon in a lovely drink recipe. (Stay tuned). My favorite Asian grocery store sells them in those styrofoam trays covered with plastic. I bring them home and freeze them.

Of course, I don't travel to the supermarket with only one item on the list. And I never come home with only the items on my list. I mean, what fun would that be, without room for serendipity? No. I cruise the aisles and wait for inspiration. This past week it came in the form of shrimp. Decent sized shrimp, raw, peeled and deveined and at an insanely reasonable price. How does $4.99/lb. sound? That's what I thought. Me too. Which is why I went for the bag of baby bok choy and some scallions. I had shitakes at home.

I found a couple of recipes on Epicurious for Thai curries that used seafood and kaffir lime leaves. I read them and then went into the kitchen and got to work. What follows is an adjusted recipe, as best as I can remember my own adjustments. I've never felt compelled to follow a recipe, and those of you who follow my blog certainly don't seem to have those constraints either.

Curry Sauce
  • 1 13.5- to 14.5-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
  • 12 whole green cardamom pods, crushed
  • 3 fresh kaffir lime leaves (3 double leaves)
  • 2 garlic cloves, chopped
  • 5 green onions, finely chopped, dark green parts separated from white and pale green parts
  • 3 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro, divided
  • 2 tablespoons (packed) brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon grated lemon peel
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
  • 2 teaspoons green Thai curry paste - or more to taste
  • 2 teaspoons fish sauce (nam pla or nuoc nam)
  • 10 large shrimp, peeled and deveined
4 small bok choy, sliced lengthwise and then sliced across.

For curry sauce:
Combine all ingredients except shrimp in heavy medium saucepan. Bring to boil over medium-high heat, whisking to blend. Reduce heat to medium and simmer 1 minute. Remove from heat. Cover and let sauce stand at room temperature 10 minutes for flavors to blend. Strain. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm before serving.)

In a separate pan, saute the bok choy over high heat with a little oil for 2 minutes or so. Add to curry sauce and let it sit in the sauce while the flavors are blending.

Heat before serving and drop shrimp in, allowing them to cook until pink - 3-5 minutes, depending upon size.

Serve over steamed rice. I added cilantro to the rice after it had steamed but was still hot.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Presto Pesto!... and a giveaway...

June Gloom mornings followed by summery afternoons. My garden is happy! I spent my weekend picking the dead leaves and flowers off the geraniums, moving a potted plant so that my heirloom tomato would get more light, organizing my emails and generally doing nothing. There are times when I need to do nothing, but I so rarely feel that I can afford to do nothing. I have succumbed to modern life, as much as I have tried to dodge that bullet. I counsel my patients to stop, slow down, take time out to breathe, remember that the world will not stop if they don't do everything. Well, this weekend I finally took my own advice. I think by doing this, I have managed to dodge whatever it was that was trying to take over my lungs.

I read Katie's terrific post over at Thyme For Cooking about laying out a garden. I could have used her sage advice when I lived in New Mexico and had room and lots of sun for a big veggie garden. Now I must grow everything in pots - flowers, herbs, veggies. We have a gopher infestation in this neighborhood that has me worried. My house is on a hillside which is now riddled with the little beasts, and if we don't do something about it soon, I think I might wind up in my neighbor's living room. But I digress......... Anyway, for those of you with room for a garden, I highly recommend her post. For those of you with little room or little sun, or both (like me), container gardening will yield wonderful results too.

My dad was an incredible gardener. He used to grow the best tomatoes on earth. I may have posted my memories of coming home from school and going straight to the garden to pick a ripe tomato, inhaling it's sun-warmed earthy scent while biting into it and letting the juices run down my chin. I don't know how many tomato plants he used to grow, but I do know that it was always more than we could eat. Which, of course, meant tomato sauce. And tomato sauce meant pasta. When I was a kid, pasta meant spaghetti - or "pisghetti" as we used to call it. To this day I can still see my brother as he sucked a strand of pisghetti into his mouth, the end flailing around and splashing tomato sauce all over his face, shirt and the table while both of us laughed.

When I looked at the shape of this pasta and knew that it wanted something other than tomato sauce. It wanted a sauce with some body. Winter was over, so the idea of a heavier meat sauce was definitely out. Pesto was the only thing that made sense to me at the time, and since basil was making it's appearance in every market and nursery in town, and parsley is growing in abundance in a container in my front yard, this was a no-brainer. The recipe that follows contains approximate amounts, as measuring isn't really my strong suit. I'm entering this into Presto Pasta Nights, this week hosted by Daphne at More Than Words. Thanks to Ruth at Once Upon a Feast for keeping this event organized!Be sure to read the bottom of this post and enter the pasta giveaway! Garofalo has generously offered to send samples to one lucky winner.

Ingredients:

1 head of garlic, roasted whole in the oven
1 C pine nuts
2 cups grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 cups grated Pecorino Romano
6 C (packed) basil leaves - you may use a variety of basil
2 1/2C flat leaf parsley
1 1/2 TBS chopped anchovies
6 TBS olive oil

Peel the garlic and place the cloves in a food processor until finely chopped, then add nuts, cheeses, anchovies, a large handful of herbs, and 1 teaspoon pepper and process until chopped. Add remaining herbs one handful at a time, pulsing after each addition, until finely chopped. With motor running, add oil and blend until incorporated.

Pesto can be stored in the freezer, so making a large quantity at once makes it easy to have presto pasta!

Pasta give away:

It seems that pasta brings back memories of childhood to everyone. What is your favorite childhood memory of pasta? It can be either eating it or your nonna's sauce filling the house with it's rich aroma. Send it to me at toni AT missionvalleyacu DOT com by June 25th. I will pick a winner at random and Garofalo Pasta will send you some samples.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Black Chicken - A Chinese Medicine Meal

OK, let me start by telling you that I haven't a clue what makes it black. But if you have access to an Asian supermarket, you just might be able to score one of these chickens. I found mine in the freezer section. It was small and, yes, when it thawed out, it was black. I'm guessing it's the kind of bird, and perhaps something about the food it lived on. I mean, flamingos turn pink because of their food, right? Maybe these chickens turn black because of theirs. I don't want to know. All I know is that because it's black, it's considered a tonic for the kidneys in Chinese medicine. So why not, I asked myself? I hadn't been paying much attention to my kidneys lately - maybe it was time to give them a boost.

But when I saw this baby in the freezer, I decided to try and replicate an idea I had been exposed to a number of years ago when I was still teaching at the Oriental medical college here in San Diego. I had a student from Vietnam, and she invited a few of us over for dinner one night. She made a black chicken and put some Chinese herbs in it. This is not unusual, actually, in Chinese cooking. There's a dim sum place here in town where you can order a soup made with Chinese herbs. They don't use the more........shall we say "earthy"? ones in their cuisine. The use some flavorful ones that add depth as well as medicinal value. The dinner that night many years ago was delicious, and, as an added benefit, it was also designed to leave us all healthier than when we walked in. What follows is my tale, rather than a specific recipe. For those of you adventurous enough to attempt this, don't be surprised when you discover that it's actually quite delicious.

I made my pilgrimage to the Vietnamese supermarket last week where I scored this chicken and some kaffir lime leaves. Around the corner from the grocery store is the Chinese herb store where I send my braver patients. I stopped off and got some goji berries as well as some longan. Many of you might be familiar with goji berries - they have become quite fashionable in Whole Foods market. They are marketed as Himalayan goji berries and sold either separately or in trail mix. In Chinese medicine they are considered a blood tonic, as well as benefiting the lungs as well as the kidneys. They are bright red and beautiful, and I remember as a student, we used to go into the herb pharmacy at school and grab handfuls of them to munch on. If anyone's interested, they are known as Lycium barbarum L., or Fructus Lycii.

The longan is a fruit I became familiar with when I went to Vietnam a few years ago. We were in a boat on the Mekong Delta, motoring through the narrow passageways between pads of thick jungle. Periodically we would spy a young girl on a bicycle pedaling along a pathway which ran parallel to the water. She would smile at us when we waved to her. And then we rounded a corner and motoring in the opposite direction was this boat, loaded with longan fruit.I became fairly addicted to these "dragon eyes" as they are commonly called. They are sweet and not unlike a fresh lychee. Longan (Arillus Euphoriae Longanae) is used in Chinese medicine as a blood tonic as well, and is often used for insomnia, especially in people who can't "let it go".

So armed with my chicken, my Chinese herbs and my lime leaves, I set off to make something for dinner. Even though kaffir lime leaves are usually used in Thai cuisine, I decided that I didn't want to be constrained by ethnicity, but merely by my imagination. I have no memory of what ingredients other than black chicken Dong Phuong put in her dish that night, but it didn't matter. I was constructing something from what was fresh and available. I chose my herbs based on color, flavor, and the fact that women, in Chinese medical thinking, are advised to nourish their blood regularly.

So how to cook this odd assortment of ingredients? Well, you start with onion and garlic, of course - the way I start almost everything I cook. Then I added the (cut up) chicken. Oh - I should warn you - these chickens come whole. I mean, WHOLE. No gizzards (oddly), but with head and feet attached. It was a bit of a shock at first, but by then the chicken had thawed out and I was committed. (Thank you, Terry B over at Blue Kitchen, for getting me to sharpen my knives each and every time I use them! I couldn't have done this with even a slightly dull knife!) When the chicken pieces have been slightly seared on the outside, add some chicken stock, the lime leaves and reduce the flame. Cover and simmer while you pour yourself a glass of wine, fire up some rice, and boil some water to pour over some dried shitake mushrooms. You could use fresh ones if you wish, but they are much more expensive. I get the giant bags of dried shitakes from Costco, and they work just fine. When the rice starts cooking, add the goji and longan. When the shitakes are soft, you may cut them up some more, or just add them as is. (Costco's come pre-sliced.)

Knowing me, I probably threw some fresh or dried culinary herbs in there, but I honestly couldn't tell you what I used. I do remember throwing some fresh thyme into the rice. And I can tell you that this dish more than met my expectations. The sweetness of the longan and goji played nicely off the citrus undertones of the lime leaves.

And I slept like a baby that night.

I'm submitting this post to Weekend Herb blogging, for the first time in many, many months. In fact, it's been so long since I participated in this event, that I just discovered that the mantle has been passed to Haalo at Cook (almost) Anything at Least Once. This week it's being hosted by Katie from Eat This. I want to add a personal note of thanks to Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen for all the work she did to create and sustain this event.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

A Pillow at the end of the day

I don't belong to a gym. I find treadmills about as interesting as a box of rocks. You can walk or run for 20 minutes or more and the scenery never changes. Why would I want to do that? Boring!

I have patients who come to me wanting to lose weight, and they are listening for advice on their diets: eat this. Don't eat that. I disappoint them. I tell them to stop focusing as much on what they eat and start focusing on how much they move. I tell them that the biggest cause of their weight problem is petroleum. They look at me as if I was nuts, until I explain that to get into a $35,000 car and move it 6 blocks to buy a $3 loaf of bread is nuts. Europeans understand this principle, as gas there has been expensive for many, many years. Americans love the gym with the valet parking.

But when you think back to when you were a kid, your mom probably had to drag you inside in the evening to eat dinner. You were outside playing, and didn't really feel like stopping to eat. At least, that's the way it was for me. As adults, though, we don't think about playing as much as we think about exercising, and when we think about exercising, we get depressed. So I tell my patients not to use the word "exercise", and replace it, instead, with the word "play". I tell them to find something they love to do which gets them moving - something that might be called "play". They usually like that idea. Furthermore, for the ones who actually DO it, they find that they can eat more of what they like and still watch the pounds come off.

In my neighborhood, I'm known as "the walker". I walk to the grocery store carrying my cotton bags. On the way back, I use them as weights - lifting and lowering them as I walk. I'm getting my aerobic exercise and working out with weights at the same time. And as a side benefit, I'm getting fresh air and getting to know all the stores in the neighborhood. I'm also a crazy gardener. I chop away at weeds with my hoe and crawl under bushes to pull them out. I haul bags of mulch and carry off piles of clippings. At the end of the day I'm physically exhausted and happy. I'm also ready for some food - and sometimes even some dessert.

Since I don't eat many sweets, I look for desserts that aren't over-the-top with sugar. I was cleaning up the kitchen a couple of weeks ago and came across a Food and Wine magazine from March of 1998. Perfect excuse to sit down and read for a bit! And then I came across an article on a family of chefs from Gascony. The youngest family member is Anne Daguin who, with her husband bought a bakery in Saint-Remy-de-Provence called Le Petit Duc. Anne apparently gets her inspiration from old cookbooks and manuscripts. She found this puffy tea pastry from the recipe book of Marie Gachet, whose father was Vincent Van Gogh's friend and physician. I found myself unable to stop eating them!

Marie Gachet's Pillow

3/4 C all purpose flour
3/4 C marscapone (about 6 oz.)
2-3 TBS raw brown sugar

1. In a medium bowl, stir the flour into the marscapone. Turn the dough onto a work surface and knead just until it is smooth. Pat the dough into a 6" square, transfer to a plate, cover and refrigerate until cold: 30 minutes to 1 hr.

2. Preheat the oven to 450. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a 15 by 12 inch rectangle. Wrap the dough around a rolling pin and unroll onto a large baking sheet. Sprinkle evenly with brown sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the pastry is golden brown and the sugar is carmelized in places. Cut the pastry in half crosswise and then into wedges. Serve hot from the oven.

Kitchen Notes

First of all, there is no way that this will roll out to the stated size. I just rolled it out as much as I could. Also, I didn't have raw sugar and so used turbinado - trust me, you won't be disappointed with anything that's granular and brown. But you'd better have gone for a hike or planted a tree that day, because you won't be able to stop eating these!
For health news, visit Mission Valley Acupuncture.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Gravel, A Birthday Party and Empanadas

Sometimes it takes a special occasion to really do some work around the yard.
Actually, it usually takes a special occasion for me - and this was a very special occasion. My friend Mary turned 94 on the 14th. Now for many people who know her, she's kind of a "mom", but for me, she's my friend. I've never thought of her as a mom, even though my own mom died in 2002. Mary is a woman with a sharp mind, a great sense of humor and a love of people. She's really the matriarch of our neighborhood, and as I said to one of the guests when everyone else had left, Mary is like the hub of the wheel, and all the spokes radiate out from her. She's the center of our little community, and I love hosting her birthday parties. We all gather together and catch up, and we keep our neighborhood together, thanks to Mary.

So this year in preparation for the party, I concentrated my efforts on the side of the yard. I found myself digging and hauling and shoveling, moving stones and cement and gravel and sand. I hired a guy to do the really heavy shoveling - I had gotten 2400 pounds of gravel from Home Depot. Curbside delivery only. I figured it would take about 3 hours to shovel all that stuff into a wheelbarrow and then dump it on the dirt at the edge of the path. This guy did in in a half hour. I told him "You run the wheelbarrow and the shovel and I'll run the rake." We whipped this job out in no time!

So a neighbor showed up with a bunch of chairs and some mozzarella with tomato and basil, and everyone brought something to share. The party was on, and no one was more delighted than Mary. Even though she specifically said that there were to be no presents, not everyone pays attention to those details. So she got a new hat......
And some hooks to hang things on. But they didn't really look like hooks, so Mary began goofing around, pretending to be smoking a pipe......
We started the party at 4:30 in the afternoon, because the only medical condition Mary's got is macular degeneration. So it's easier for her to see when it's light out. By the time the majority of the guests left, it was around 9:30 at night. It had grown chilly by then, but I had lots of shawls which I passed around to all of the women. One woman wore a shorter dress, so for the last hour or so, I loaned her a pair of pants to put on under the dress. Another woman needed an extra layer on top of the pashmina, so I threw a jacket over her shoulders. Even one of the men got cold, and I had a jacket that a friend of mine had given to me when I was visiting him a few years ago. By the end of the evening, I looked around the circle of guests and saw my closet spread out before me!

For the "main course" - if there is such a thing at a pot luck - I made empanadas. I decided to make 2 different kinds - chicken and beef - because I'm never certain if everyone will eat beef. (This is California, after all.) Also, I needed to make one kind that wasn't spicy. Oh, that was hard!!! But I did it. I looked at several different recipes and then basically did my own thing. This was the first time, however, that "my own thing" included tweaking the recipe for the dough. I'm quite comfortable making up recipes when it comes to cooking food. I have never been comfortable, however, changing anything when it comes to baking. This time, however, I had 2 different recipes for empanada dough, and they were quite different. One had more flour and less salt, the other had more salt and no additional egg whites. (Or was it yolks? I don't remember!) They had different amounts of water and vinegar, too. So I "punted". I kinda sorta did something in between, and it worked beautifully. Whew!
So here's the tweaked version of one of the recipes:

Chicken Empanadas with Chorizo:

  • 3 whole chicken legs, including thighs (2 to 2 1/4 pounds total)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 4 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 2 large onions, halved lengthwise, then cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch-wide strips
  • 2 large garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California
  • 1/3 cup finely diced chicken chorizo
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/4 cup chopped pitted green olives
  • 1/4 cup raisins
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1/2 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth
Pat chicken dry and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then brown chicken, turning over once, about 6 minutes total, and transfer to a plate. Sauté onions, garlic, and bay leaves in fat remaining in skillet, stirring frequently, until onions are softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add chorizo and paprika and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add olives, raisins, wine, and broth and bring to a boil, stirring and scraping up any brown bits. Return chicken to skillet along with any juices accumulated on plate, then reduce heat to moderately low and simmer chicken, covered, turning over once, until tender, 25 to 30 minutes total.

Transfer chicken to a clean plate. (Sauce in skillet should be the consistency of heavy cream; if it's not, briskly simmer until slightly thickened, about 5 minutes.)**(See Kitchen Notes). When chicken is cool enough to handle, discard skin and bones and coarsely chop meat. Stir chicken into sauce and discard bay leaves. Season with salt and pepper, then cool filling, uncovered, about 30 minutes.

OK - so that was the filling for the chicken one. Here's the beef version:

Beef Empanadas:

  • 2 hard-boiled large eggs
  • 1/2 medium onion, finely chopped
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 garlic clove, finely chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 3/4 pound ground beef
  • 2 Italian Sausages, (or chorizo), casings removed and finely diced
  • 2 tablespoons raisins
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons chopped pimiento-stuffed olives
  • 1 (14-ounce) can diced tomatoes in juice, drained, reserving some juice
Cut each egg crosswise into 10 thin slices.

Cook onion in olive oil in a heavy medium skillet over medium heat, stirring frequently, until softened. Add garlic, cumin, and oregano and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Stir in beef and cook until no longer pink, about 4 minutes.

Add raisins, olives, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, and tomatoes with reserved juice, then cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced but mixture is still moist, about 5 minutes. Spread on a plate to cool.

Empanada Dough

  • 2 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons salt
  • 3 TBS cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 2 large egg
  • 1/2 cup ice water
  • 1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
Sift flour with salt into a large bowl and blend in butter with your fingertips or a pastry blender until mixture resembles coarse meal with some (roughly pea-size) butter lumps.

Beat together egg, water, and vinegar in a small bowl with a fork. Add to flour mixture, stirring with fork until just incorporated. (Mixture will look shaggy.)

Turn out mixture onto a lightly floured surface and gather together, then knead gently with heel of your hand once or twice, just enough to bring dough together. Form dough into a flat rectangle and chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, at least 1 hour.

Roll dough out on a floured surface until it is thin. Very thin is good. I used a bowl as a form and cut around it to form circles. Place the filling on 1/2 the dough, fold over to form a semicircle, then crimp with a fork. For the beef empanadas, I laid a couple of slices of egg, halved, over the top before folding. Brush the tops with a beaten egg, and using a toothpick, poke some holes for steam to escape. Put the empanadas on a cookie sheet and bake in a hot oven - 425 degrees - for around 16-20 minutes, depending upon their size and how crispy you like them.

Kitchen Notes:

Now, let me tell you that there was NO WAY that the consistency of the chicken empanada "sauce" was going to make it to heavy cream. So I skipped that idea altogether and just used a slotted spoon to remove all the goodies from the pan. I saved the sauce, however, because it's delicious! In fact, I've got lots of the mixture left over, and I'm going to add some of the sauce to it and serve it over rice.

Also, I have no idea how much shortening I used. I just kept cutting it in until it seemed "right". All I can say is that it rolled out beautifully and baked up light and fluffy.

And now, for Mary, who is not my mom but my friend, I offer this poem:

Homecoming

by Maxine Kumin

Folding My Clothes

Tenderly she would take them down and fold
the arms in and fold again where my back
should go until she made a small
tight square of my chest, a knot of socks
where my feet blossomed into toes,
a stack of denim from the waist down,
my panties strictly packed into the size
of handkerchiefs on which no trace
of tears showed. All of me under control.

But there was tenderness, the careful matching
of arm to arm, the smoothing of wrinkles,
every button buttoned on the checkered blouse
I disobeyed in. There was sweet order
in those scented drawers, party dresses
perfect as pictures in the back of the closet—
until I put them on, breathing life back
into those abstract shapes of who I was
which she found so much easier to love.