Salsa and Guacamole

Chips and salsa, man. I love them. When we go out for Mexican food, the chips and salsa are what kills me, and salsa is a right fine indicator of what kind of food you will be eating soon. At the grocery store, though, I could not find any salsa that was remotely similar to what I was eating in the restaurants. So I decided I would make my own salsa, and it's very simple.

Today I roasted in the oven four tomatoes, three jalapenos, and a poblano. If I would have been thinking correctly, I would've roasted some onion and garlic, but I was not, and I did not. After these items roasted, I threw them into the processor after peeling their skins. I added a good handful of cilantro, the juice of one lime, and a little salt. Hit the button and Sal-sa! I tasted it, and it was a little spicy for the wife. More for old boy. Heh.

Guacamole is the same: easy to make and so worth it. Today I had four avocados (HT was selling them two for $3, which is very reasonable for them). They were ripe and ready, as was I. I halved them and scooped them into a bowl, to which I added more cilantro, roughly chopped, lime zest, juice of one more lime, some salt, and about a half cup of that salsa I made. I will probably add more salsa later.

Taking a fork, I smashed all those things together, leaving some larger pieces of avocado. I think I might have added the juice of one more lime. Seems like I squeezed a lot of limes today, or at least a lot more than usual.

This batch of guac is silky smooth, and the ripe avocado is creamy. The lime juice gives it a bit of pucker, and salt is a miracle for everything. I am thinking that a shot of tequila might fit so well into this guacamole. I will have to remember that for next time. So tonight, my dinner has been salsa, guacamole, and tortilla chips. I did not make the tortilla chips myself since that process has many steps, but someday I will break out the masa harina.

Both of these dishes will be even better tomorrow when their ingredients have spent some time together, mixing it up and hitting it off. Time for chicken wing dip.

A Drink of Ale

I try to curb my intake of red meat for health reasons, such as cholesterol control and THE GOUT control, but I saw these top sirloin beef cuts in the butcher case, and I figured I wanted to eat them. Each cut was approximately 2 x 2 x 1.5 inches, just the perfect size for my temperament, and probably the right amount of protein for a man, particularly one who is trying to be less of a surfeiter.

I am always working on improving my methods of cooking, and that includes steak. Lately I do it like this: First I sprinkle kosher salt liberally on the beef. It doesn't have to be a cut the size I mentioned, but I prefer it to be. If I'm thinking correctly, I salt every bit of surface area. Then I liberally grind black pepper on the steak. I bought some tellicherry peppercorns from P's spices, and this variety truly is the King of Spices, as they say. I was thumbing through an Emeril book, and he even recommended roasting the peppercorns, something I never considered. As they are, raw corns are pretty good.

The steaks will then sit out for a bit to come to room temperature. In the meantime, I sliced potatoes to make a gratin. Yukon Gold potatoes are my favorite for just about everything. Yukons present a slightly creamy texture that is quite appealing. I don't know why, but I had the perception that new potatoes or red potatoes were the better variety, but I was wrong.

After the slicing, I readied the sauce for the gratin which consisted of milk (cream is what I should have used, but I didn't have any), S & P, green-can cheese that I love for many things, about a cup of sour cream, a tablespoon of olive oil, whatever freshly grated parm I had, which was nothing but a few tablespoons, and two or three garlic cloves. I wish that I had included more shredded cheese in the mix, but as I said, I am trying to be somewhat conscious of the amount of food I consume. I also could have included caramelized onions that would be very kind to the dish, but I was lazy about cutting them and letting them cook for the time they require to really caramelize.

The gratin baked for about an hour, and I was disappointed that it was still liquidy after that amount of time. I attribute this to the fact that I had no cream. The cheese also reacted strangely and formed little chewy clumps of cheese at various spots that tasted okay, but just were not incorporated very well into the sauce. Finally I became impatient with the slow rate of evaporation. I poured most of the liquid into the sink and turned up the heat. My potatoes were browning and I was ready to eat some steak and potatoes.

By now, I had prepared the steaks, and they were just about ready to rest. Oh, man, did they turn out well, or rather medium. First, I seared them in a well heated pan. Of course, I was impatient and tried to turn them before they were ready, and that left bits of beef on the bottom of the pan. Anyway, I pried them off the pan and turned them, let that side sear and brown, and I put the pan into the oven for about ten minutes @ 350. When I removed the pan from the oven, the pan side of the meat had crusted, which was my goal. Then I sat them on a plate to rest for a few minutes. The potatoes were also ready to come out of the oven to rest, allowing the last bit of sauce to finally set.

The last thing I cooked was the sauce for the steak. Using that same pan and being extra attentive to the fact that it just came out of the oven (only once did I attempt to grab the handle bare-handed, but remembered just at the right time), I deglazed with a bit of Chardonnay and let that reduce before adding a few mushrooms I sauted earlier sometime. I added a turn or two of Worcestershire sauce, and that cooked awhile. When it was done, I mounted the sauce with butter and poured it over and around the steaks. I am telling you that it was delicious. The little crust, the tender, pink medium interior just warm, and that sauce—oh, yeah. My mother never would eat this steak, though. She will eat no meat with even a hint of pink. She would be missing out on this one.

The potatoes did not turn out the way I wanted them to, but sometimes that's how it works out when you're cooking. They still ate pretty well, considering the cheese clumps, as the potatoes were flavorful and tender, having soaked up a lot of the sauce. Still some left in the fridge, actually, and they're even better today as most things are when they sit together for some time. I had a bite and then I had a drink of ale. And another drink of ale. And another drink of ale.

Pizza and Profanity

Pizza. I calls it “pizzer” (peet-zer). I calls it “pie.” I do not calls it “'za,” and I never will. When I worked at the pizza shop in Morgantown with C$ and a few other Spencerians, C$ and I wrote “Tastee Pies” on one of those little boards with interchangeable letters usually used for stating price, menu, etc., so all of the customers could read it when they entered the shop for pick-up. It lasted a good while until a troglodyte, I think his name was Mike, took it down since his sense of humor was very short to nonexistent. Nice work, Mike. You don't deserve any pizza.

Has any other food been created that is more perfect than pizza? I doubt it. Dairy group, check. Vegetables, check. Proteins, check. Breads, check. I like mine as thin as possible, crispy on the bottom with a little chew to the crust. Put some sauce on it. I prefer a nice, even saucing while others prefer a dearth. Give me some sauce. Mozzarella on top, and that's it. Fresh mozzarella is great. Shredded mozzarella of good quality in a bag is all right, especially when it's on sale. I think making your own mozzarella is a pretty straightforward task, one which I will someday tackle, but I have not arrived there yet. Oh, sometimes I top with pepperoni or a make a Margherita pizza, but usually I like a simple cheese. I sprinkle hot pepper flakes on my pizza when I have them, which is usually.

Speaking of sauce, I was able to use the remainder of my Bolognese on one of the pizzas I cooked last night. I like taking what I have left and creating something else with it. It makes me happy. I used quite a bit of the sauce, and atop that I placed some nice and fresh pineapple that had been ripening on the counter for the last several days. I am troubled that most of the fruit I eat is not allowed to ripen completely on the vine, but not too troubled. Cheese, of course, and that was one pizza. I thought it was pretty good, even though my wife poo-pooed the pineapple idea initially. Pineapples and banana chilis are a great juxtaposition, also, if you can tolerate a few Scovilles.

Keep in mind that these pizzas are rather small, 10 by 10 inches at the most, and certainly not perfectly round. I was practicing my dough tossing yesterday. I did pretty good. The dough never hit the floor, and I tossed a couple spirals. Nice. So on the second pie, I had some onions and mushrooms that I sauted on high heat, which I usually avoid, but I was pressed for time since the Mounties were playing Pitt in just a few minutes hence. While they were sauteing, I had the dough in the oven cooking a little bit. Cooking the dough first without toppings is the best thing to do, and I had to learn this the hard way from eating several soggy-bottomed pizzas that did not make me proud. Remember I do not have a pizza oven. In any context, I think, soggy bottomed should be avoided.

After my onyons and mushrooms cooked, I olive-oiled that crust and spread the mix. Topped that with cheese and threw it back into the oven until my cheese browned some. If only I had a pizza oven in the kitchen.

And then I ate pizza and watched WVU win this version of the Backyard Brawl. I was curious how the students would react during the game since I read two or three articles about how the Administration at the University, as well as the man himself, Huggy Bear, had asked the students to tone down their profane language during the contest. I don't know if I expected not to hear profanity from the students (This is WVU, not Harvard, after all), but I was a bit surprised when I heard the students chanting, “Suck my Dixon.” Now, I don't know if this chant was aimed at Coach Dixon or at one of the Pitt players named Dixon. That is as irrelevant as the wrinkles on my hands. Huggins grabbed the mic at one point and told the students it was stupid for them to throw things onto the court as it could hurt the players or officials. Shortly after that, a Pitt coach was struck in the face with an object. I was not proud to be a Mountaineer at this point (one that is becoming an old man), and a raucous bunch at a basketball game is no excuse for throwing things haphazardly, pizza night or no.

Chicken Pinwheels! Whee!

Chicken pinwheels are named as such because they are rolled up and cut to look like a pinwheel, like a jelly roll, or like a Buche de Noel cake. It was a concoction that left me wanting more of the deliciousness when I was a little fatty boy. They were so good that they have stuck with me over years. A slightly crispy outside and a soft bready inside, indeed, and filled with a chicken mixture. Pair that with mashed potatoes and gravy. I do not know the ingredients in the chicken mixture the lunchladies used. I wish I did. I also wish I had a few of those old green lunch trays we used. Of course, like my mother used to tell me, “Wish in one hand and do something in the other and see which one fills up fastest.”

Well, I thought about the pinwheels and figured I'd try my hand at making them, but first I had to travel to the grocer for some mushers and onions. I found some baby portobellos, two containers for five dollars, already sliced by the kind folks at H-T. These I sauted with my mirepoix and a bit of wine for a short time. I added this mixture to the food processor we received for a wedding gift (I forget who bought it for us, but thank you again) along with some diced chicken, S & P, and some sour cream. A few days earlier, the H-T had little fryer chickens on sale, and I bought three of them for about seven bucks. That's a bargain, and that's where my diced chicken came from.

Anyway, I made some dough earlier from a trusty dough recipe that never fails me. I rolled the dough and spread the chicken mixture over it. I tried to toss the dough into the air like you see the professionals do, but my dough is always oblong and certainly not symmetrical so it does not work very well for me. Regardless, I always try it for s and g. Then I rolled that up and baked it until it was done. My filling was not quite the same as the lunchladies' of South Side Elementary School, but it had its own distinct flavor. The mixture's texture was very similar to chicken salad, and I did eat some of it on a few butter crackers later last evening. I was not disappointed, and the wife took a sandwich filled with the stuff for her lunch today.

The texture of the finished pinwheel was quite like the ones I remembered. As I said, pinwheels should be a little bit crispy on the outside and soft and delicious within. Yes, they were still steaming as I cracked open the first pinwheel, a couple minutes out of the oven. I don't know about the potatoes, though. Having finished cooking them earlier, I left them to sit in their hot water which imparted to them a watery taste. Imagine that. Gravy was okay, but I wished that I hadn't frozen all of the chicken stock that I had left so I could've used it to add some depth to that gravy.

Though these pinwheels tasted just fine, I was not excited enough about the end result to consider making them again any time soon. I am happy to have leftover dough, though, so tonight is pizza night, which would be every other night of the week if I had my druthers.

Bolognese Ain't No Bologna

Since school has been canceled due to inclement snowy and icy weather, I have been doing some cooking. Cooking (and the eating that accompanies the cooking) is one of my favorite activities when I'm at home. My mother told me that the first thing I ever cooked was Sloppy Joe. I have no recollection of this, and I am even a bit skeptical as I do not like eating canned Sloppy Joes. I do remember watching my grandmother make her famous breaded pork chops and helping her with the process of dipping the chops in the eggs and then coating them with breadcrumbs. Brown them and put them in the pot and leave them alone, Gram would say. Before I moved to West Virginia, Sunday dinner at Granny Boots' house was a regular ritual. Though there were not enough forks to go around, fortunately we had enough food to eat.

When I was a neophyte cook and spaghetti maker, I employed the method that I had learned as a kid. I would brown some ground beef, add a jar of sauce that I bought at the store and put that atop the spaghetti. That is it. No onions, no nothin. It was edible, but not quite what I wanted, which was a nice marinara sauce with meatballs. I have not cooked meat sauce for spaghetti in quite some time, but this method never left me entirely.

I was thinking of what I wanted to eat in the near future and Bolognese sauce featured prominently in my daydreams. This is a rich sauce composed of a mirepoix sauted for a bit, ground beef, some white wine, cream (I used milk because I had milk), a can of tomatoes, S and P, and some chicken stock. Usually this sauce has a pork component, but I had no pork on hand. I made the chicken stock earlier in the day from a carcase, S & P, some herbs and more mirepoix, and it was pretty good on its own.

Combined in a dutch oven and left to simmer on the stove for about four hours at exquisitely low heat on my new cooktop, she reduced nicely, leaving a thick and delicious meaty sauce that I mixed with spaghetti. Topped with a little fresh Parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes, and I was eating so well. But I also had a still-fresh loaf of French bread that I bought for quite a discount (47 cents) at the grocery store the day before, so I cut it up, spread some butter, granulated garlic, and green-can cheese mixture on it, and baked it. Bolognese may be my new favorite sauce. Today I'm thinking about chicken pinwheels that I ate for lunch in elementary school in PA. Sounds good to me.