Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘Recipe For Disaster’

Sunday Night Special: Rib-Eye Steak with Pan-Seared Grape Tomatoes

Steak and grape tomatoes

I don’t usually make cover recipes but the July Gourmet’s Porterhouse Steak with Pan-Seared Cherry Tomatoes seemed very simple (it’s been too humid for any serious cooking lately) and gave me the excuse to try the Grazin’ Angus Acres’s beef at Carroll Gardens’s tiny Sunday farmers market. Unfortunately, tomatoes aren’t really here yet (I just ate three cherry tomatoes in my Pret a Manger cobb salad and the tartness was none too pleasing, though the salad overall was better than expected) and I had to settle for regular grape tomatoes.

Yes, it’s a little strange that when food prices are getting out of control, I decide to start paying double for meat. I’ve never been one for organics and this isn’t something I’ll be able to make a habit of, I was just curious about American grass-fed beef after my steak binge in Buenos Aires. I did opt for a rib eye instead of the porterhouse because the latter tends to be large and there’s no convincing myself to spend $40+ for one piece of meat. I kind of justified the $23/lb rib eye because I decided to stop taking a $50 monthly prescription (not birth control pills—heavens). Maybe I can swing a locally raised steak once a month, which is plenty for anyone.

The meat definitely turned out more rare than medium-rare. It’s my own fault for not using a thermometer even though I have two, one digital, the other old-fashioned. You would think that I would’ve learned after six years of using an undercooking Magic Chef brand stove (it is not lost on me that my fancy Carroll Gardens apartment has the same exact lame stove that was in my former crappy Sunset Park apartment. Yes, there’s something sad about paying 3.73 times as much rent and still getting the same cheap appliances and 15 inches of counter space) and countless Thanksgivings with a turkey that takes an abnormal amount of time to reach doneness that I would compensate and cook my meat for longer than recommended (six minutes in this instance).

Grazin' angus acres rib-eye steak

Regardless, this a fitting showcase for pristine beef. I tried to savor each bite and detect differences from the usual cuts I buy from Western Beef. I don’t doubt that I could tell the difference between a grocery store steak and one fresh from the farm; meat isn’t as esoteric to me as say, wine tasting. As I’ve said before, beef isn’t my favorite meat because it’s usually overwhelming, murky and one-note. This steak had a clean flavor, if that makes any sense. I noticed the biggest difference when I gnawed bits off of the bone and the shreds were just slightly gamey, kind of like some country hams and Spanish cured pork. The basil, tomatoes and garlic were slightly sweet without distracting from the meat. 

Of course, Gourmet’s photography is 50 times more attractive than mine. But it's the taste that counts, right?

Sunday Night Special: Chopped Wing Bean Salad & Clams with Basil and Chiles

Sunday nights are the worst. There’s always something vaguely important that I’m supposed to be doing so I come up with a cooking project (or just watch lots of TV—I’m very disturbed that the quippy, marginally humorous talking head commentary concept has been co-opted by home and gardening shows, like you really need little pseudo-comedians yukking it up about landscaping jobs gone bad) to occupy my time instead. I’d probably be rich by now if I knew how to tame procrastination.

I was supposed to be doing my state taxes (I got my tiny federal refund way back in early Feb. because I’m quick to claim cash) and writing a review of the scary renovated Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel, but instead I decided to make my own nam prik pao.

There are a million minutely different variations. I chose one from David Thompson’s Classic Thai Cuisine that’s fairly sweet. I love the palm sugariness but it could’ve used a few extra chiles. After making it, I noticed Kasma Loha-unchit’s rendition used double the dried peppers. Well, he does call his jam rather than the more commonly used paste.

Strangely, I never use blogs for recipes and stick to cookbooks like an old lady. It's an odd bias considering I skim 50+ sites almost daily. But after the fact, I noticed there was a useful nam prik pao recipe on Chez Pim.

Roasted Chile Jam
Nam Prik Pao

4 cups oil
4 cups shallots, sliced lengthwise
2 cups garlic, sliced lengthwise
1 cup dried shrimp, rinsed and dried
10 dried long red chiles, deseeded and chopped
1 cup palm sugar
1/2 cup thick tamarind water
1 tablespoon salt
3 tablespoon fish sauce

Heat oil and separately deep-fry the shallots and garlic until golden. Add the shrimp and chiles and deep-fry for 30 seconds or until fragrant; drain. Puree the deep-fried ingredients together in a food processor, moistening with 1 cup of the oil from the deep-frying to facilitate the blending. Transfer the puree to a medium pot, bring to a boil, then add the palm sugar, tamarind water, salt and fish sauce. Simmer, stirring regularly, for about 5 minutes, or until quite thick and tasting sweet, sour and salty. Store in an airtight container.

Makes an insane amount, maybe three cups, possibly closer to four but it doesn’t really go bad and for all the effort you might as well do it up big.

I’m not a Thai food expert, obviously, but I think this not-crazy-spicy paste can kind of be added to anything. You can use it as a vegetable dip, to season soups like tom yum, and a few spoonfuls gussy up stir-fries, too.

I specifically made mine as a component for a wing bean salad (yam tua poo) I’d made a few summers ago. There were leftover rotisserie chicken and green beans in the fridge that needed to be used up, and thought of this recipe No, there aren’t wing beans around these parts but I survived.

I couldn’t even say if this is a legitimate recipe—I’ve never seen anything like it and similar ones online includes ground pork. I haven’t cooked much from Joyce Jue’s Savoring Southeast Asia because it seems more like a coffee table book (that it’s a Williams-Sonoma book weirds me out) but authentic or not, this is a tasty dish.

Nam_prik_ingredients

Tamarind water, fish sauce, fried shallots, palm sugar, fried garlic. I didn't make the shallots from scratch because I only had two bulbs on hand and this plastic tub needed using up.

Shrimp_and_chiles

Chopped shrimp and chiles. I didn't deep-fry the ingredients, but rather sauteed on high heat with a generous amount of oil.

Nam_prik_raw

Raw puree

Nam_prik_final

Final glossy product

Chopped Wing Bean Salad
Yam Tua Poo

1 tablespoon salt
1 boneless, skinless chicken breast, about 6 ounces
1/2 pound winged beans, long beans or green beans, trimmed
1/4 cup unsweetened grated dried coconut
1 red jalapeño chile, seeded and thinly sliced

Dressing
1/3 cup coconut cream
2 teaspoons roasted chile paste
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 tablespoon sugar

2 tablespoon fried shallots
1 ½ tablespoons fried garlic
3 tablespoons unsalted roasted peanuts, crushed
Coconut cream for garnish (optional)

Poach the chicken breast (you don’t need me to detail that) or use leftover skinned, shredded chicken parts like I did. Dark meat isn’t scary.

Blanch the beans, keeping them green and crunchy.

Toast the coconut in a dry pan until it turns golden. Set aside.

Combine chicken, beans and chopped chile (I never see red jalapeños or even Anaheims and used a few tiny Thai chiles instead) in a large bowl.

In a separate smaller bowl, mix coconut cream, roasted chile paste (the nam prik pao), lime juice, fish sauce and sugar.

Add the dressing to the chicken and beans and toss. Sprinkle with toasted coconut, fried shallots and garlic and peanuts. Mix before serving.

Serves 4-6

Bean_salad

If I didn’t know better I would say that the end product looks like a green bean casserole, canned onions and all. But the creaminess is all-coconutty and Campbell’s free. I would’ve preferred more beans to chicken but I’d underestimated the amount of leftover vegetables and overestimated how much meat was still on the chicken. Sweet and spicy is the overall theme, and it makes for a great not-terribly-carby lunch, if you care about that sort of thing. Even if you don’t, it’s a good lunch or light dinner.

That was all I was going to make but I had picked up a couple pounds of clams the day before, so I searched Dancing Shrimp: Favorite Thai Recipes for Seafood by Kasma Loha-unchit for ideas and came up with an easy recipe that also used my nam prik: clams stir-fried with roasted chile sauce and basil (hoi pad nahm prik pow).

Clams_with_basil_and_chile

I would’ve gotten into trouble on Top Chef because there was a tiny bit of grit in a few of the shells. Not enough to ruin the dish, but you definitely don’t want to hear a crunch when eating mollusks. Instead of using the prescribed water or broth I threw in a few tablespoons of the thin coconut milk leftover in the can from the wing bean salad. It upped the richness quotient a notch and mixed with the chile paste and clam liquor created a sauce that was so good I didn’t mind eating it with brown jasmine rice.

Sunday Night Special: Super Bowl Edition

Despite having next to no interest in sports whatsoever (I blame it on a Portland upbringing—the Trailblazers were the only pro team we had) our Super Bowl party always ends up being bigger than expected. Even with a healthy-sized apartment, thirty-plus guests can be a challenge.

Buffalo_wings 

The problem with hosting parties is that there’s little downtime; keeping the food non-fancy still ends up being a time suck. Buffalo wings have to be cooked in steady batches and even hands-off treats can be a distraction. But then, I’m easily distracted. I didn’t see much of the game or many of the commercials (I did watch the half-time show and was fully expecting "Don't Come Around Here no More") and only ate three measly wings (this was rectified last night when we fried up leftover chicken parts).

I’ve used the same tablecloth and dishware numerous times so if I was to compare Super Bowl parties past there would be uncanny similarities. Life is repetitive that way.

Manchego_empanadas 

Nearly a quarter of the attendees were vegetarian so I couldn’t let them starve. Spanish-influenced empanadas with Manchego, spinach, almonds and raisins seemed un-boring.

White_bean_dip

We’ve been overwhelmed with dried goods after James ordered a Rancho Gordo sampler that arrived too late for his father’s Christmas present. I used the included cannellini beans for a healthy-ish bean dip that I livened up with white truffle oil and the recommended balsamic vinegar. I also added chopped sun-dried tomatoes even though the recipe only called for their oil, which apparently is very Mark Bittman. Carrot sticks, red pepper strips and these cheap bruschetta toasts I found at Western Beef went along with the mashed beans.

Jalapeno_crab_dip 

I’m generally biased against Food Network recipes but for something like hot jalapeno crab dip they seem right on. Do you want a highbrow crab dip?

Fried_pickles 

Buying only two jars of dill pickles was a big mistake because the pickle chips disappeared within seconds. I never understood Costco’s giant condiment jars but now their purpose is perfectly clear. I used another Food TV recipe for the batter and Deann brought buttermilk dressing for dipping.

Deep_fried_cadbury_egg
Cadbury Egg close up

Deep_fried_kit_kat
Smooshed Kit Kat

Impromptu candy-frying erupted. That’s been known to happen when the deep fryer makes an appearance. Kit Kats, Snickers and crowd favorite Cadbury Eggs all got the hot oil treatment. We regretted not having cheesecake on hand since it makes a particularly decadent battered, fried treat. I think last year someone tried deep-frying a whole blackout cake, which is proof that drinking and frying are a dangerous combination.

Surfing_on_acid 

After a handful of drinks, scary fratty cocktails start sounding good. James loves concocting an old ‘90s Baltimore classic, Surfing on Acid. Jagermeister, Malibu and pineapple sound absolutely wretched, though I have to admit the combo is more pleasing than the sum of the parts. Someone cracked open my blue wildberry cherries, and next thing I knew gummy bears were being added as garnish. These were my kind of people—no prompting from me was needed for such garish flourishes. And I wonder why I felt like death the next morning.

Super_bowl_chocolate_cake

I thought this was a chocolate mousse cake and that it had been decimated. I got a tasty surprise last night when I found 3/4 of it in my freezer.  Oh, and it's a chocolate banana tart.

Super_bowl_cupcakes

I can't forget the store-bought goodies. Football themed cakes are a must. 

Sunday Night Special: Swiss Chard with Raisins and Pine Nuts & Flounder with Garlic Sauce

Spanish_chard_and_flounder
No matter how good they might taste, I have a knack for making my meals look sad and pathetic. This fish never stood a chance. 

This three-day weekend I finally got around to looking over a Christmas present, Jose Andres’s Tapas: a Taste of Spain in America. The same day I found a recipe in the new Gourmet that was very similar to one in the book I had my eye on. Synchronicity.

Jose Andres’s recipe used spinach, apples raisins and pine nuts while Gourmet’s version called for Swiss chard, raisins, onions and almonds. I love the Spanish use of nuts and raisins (especially with morcilla–which wasn’t called for in either of these—I’m just saying). I borrowed from both sources since I prefer heartier wilted greens to wet spinach and had a container of pine nuts that needed using up. Even though I liked the idea of adding a golden delicious and creating a pine nut praline, they didn’t make it into this version.

We already had a fish dish from Cooking Light (low fat isn’t exciting but I try to reign in my impulses during the week) on the roster that incorporated mayonnaise, so it was fortuitous that Gourmet paired their Spanish-influenced chard with a garlicky faux aioli topped halibut (strange, the way they've broken out the new Gourmet.com; the chard recipe shows up on Gourmet.com while the fish only appears on Epicurious). I had to use flimsy little flounder filets because that was what the original plan entailed.

I could’ve predicted that I’d like the sweet and oily Swiss chard more than the fish, but that’s mostly because I have a fear of mayonnaise even when I know rationally that it’s just eggs and oil. I think my perfect version of the vegetable dish would keep the chard, onions and smoked paprika I used in this one, add the apples and swap the pine nuts for almonds. Next time.

Booked Solid

Reading
I had this bright idea during my two Christmas days off that I would actually read books in 2008. So, I put a shitload of hardbound printed matter on hold at the library, assuming they would slowly trickle over to the Carroll Gardens branch (it took months for my requested The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao to show up and when I went to pick it up someone had taken it from the holds shelf. There is a place in hell for patrons who “steal” others’ reserved items). But now I’m freaking out because they’re all coming at once and the tomes are laughably enormous.

I’ll never be able to get through 753-page American Food Writing: An Anthology: With Classic Recipes, 582-page Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink and 614-page Tree of Smoke in my allotted three weeks. I don’t even know where to begin.

Thinking about books got me to playing around with Shelfari, a social networking tool that seems fun yet ultimately as useless to me as MySpace, Facebook and the rest. I started adding all of my cookbooks that were available and quickly realized that I have hundreds of cookbooks and pamphlets, yet probably only cook from about ten on a regular basis.

Great, in 2008 I could start cooking from all the books I’d bought for one reason or another, mostly reasons having little to do with good eating. For instance, Girl Food (an old zine pal made ziti from this for Robert Crumb–and wouldn’t you know it–she got laid) and The Madison Avenue Cookbook (which is poo poohed in this 1963 Time article that does give the nod to new book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking with no mention of one of the now legendary authors). It would be fun.

Except that Slashfood practically started doing the same thing, I recently stumbled on Cooked Books which champions gems from NYPL, the kitchn just started a book club and now Eat Drink One Woman has a guest blogger also talking up old cookbooks. Whew. Never mind, then, I'll keep my cookbooks to myself.

Um…because everything else I write about here is so original. No matter, I do foresee some tweaking and revamping in the immediate future. I just don’t think it will involve cookbooks (or god forbid, viral videos).

Shrimp Sambal Tea Sandwiches

Shrimp_sambal_tea_sandwich

Do you ever create something (arguably) edible and can’t decide whether it’s genius or disgusting? I just possibly made the most grostesque yet edible sandwich that I wouldn’t recommend anyone replicate.

I was going to make shrimp sambal tea sandwiches from Singapore Heritage Food over Christmas break but never got around to it. I figured it would be a good in-the-office-alone meal. I share close quarters with three others who don’t strike me as appreciative of funky odors. Yesterday, I felt self-conscious about the Sichuan snapper and water spinach leftovers I ate at my desk. Fish isn’t work-friendly.

Last night I tackled this recipe because I was afraid the loaf of white bread I’d bought for the purpose was probably on the verge of molding. All you really do is grind dried shrimp, shallots, fresh and dried chiles and then fry in oil and season with salt and sugar. Yet, I botched it somehow.

Chunky_shrimp

They include a photo, which makes the filling look crimson and moist. I had an idea in my head of how it would taste; hot, sweet and kind of sticky-jammy like a Thai paste that I used to keep in the freezer. But it was nothing like that. As you can see, everything's salmon-colored and crispy.

The dried shrimp didn’t get soft enough or break down flossy enough in my mini food chopper (I’d never heard meat referred to as floss until I went to Malaysia) so rather than a puree I had more of chunky blend of shrimp jerky. And when cooked with dried and fresh chiles and shallots, nothing really melded. The flavor wasn’t bad, but the consistency was loose to hold together between bread.

I needed a binder that wasn’t high fat. Mayonnaise makes me wary on a good day and I didn’t have any in the fridge, anyway. Greek yogurt to the rescue. Why not? It’s no weirder than a tuna salad sandwich, really. I was going to add lime juice and the tanginess sufficed. However, the yogurt dulled the hotness so I added a blob of jarred sambal. Nice.

Shrimp_yogurt

The thing is that the paste tastes much better eaten plain than on bread. It was like starchy dryness compounded with salty dryness. And now I have a headache, which I'd like to blame on the sandwich. Oh, and I completely stunk up the apartment and the hallway. I’m starting to think that I’m immune to fishy, fermented scents (though not stinky tofu) and a destroyer of recipes.

What Would Honey Maid Do?

Graham_crackers

I’m guessing that on average I might bake a cheesecake every year and a half. And the reason I know this is because when I went to put my new ¾-still-full box of graham crackers into the cupboard after Thanksgiving, I was faced with two other ¾-still-full boxes of graham crackers. One had an expiration date of December 26, 2004, the other had no expiration date to speak of.

I’m phobic of ancient food, mold and the bugs that always seem to work their way into our dried goods (no matter how tightly I contain our jasmine rice, little moths still sprout inside the air-tight tub, which implies there are eggs in the original bag) so the oldies will have to go. But I hate wasting food, even if it only cost $1.59. No, I'm never swayed by brand names.

Lopsided_smore 

My first plan of attack was making s’mores using dark orange-flavored chocolate. Using the gas burners wasn’t so successful because it just charred without melting enough. I resorted to microwaving. You do have to be careful because marshmallows balloon up in that mutant Peeps way.

Now I still have half a box left and I’m at a loss. What can you do with graham crackers other than passing them off on little kids by telling them they’re cookies. Graham crackers are so not cookies.

Whenever stumped by a food product, I go straight to the source. What would Honey Maid do? Ah yes, Nabisco would have me crafting graham fruitcake and a holiday house. Which reminds me, my friend Jane just made a charming gingerbread crackhouse. I'm sure something similar could be done with graham crackers.

Eve of Destruction: Penang-Style Roast Chicken

Penang_roast_chicken
Don't you love the television's blue glow?

I feel funny using recipe titles when they include someone’s name, mostly because it seems overly familiar when you don’t know the person being honored. So, this Penang-style roast chicken from James Oseland’s Cradle of Flavor is technically called Kevin’s Spiced Roast Chicken with Potatoes, Penang Style. Thanks, Kevin.

I don’t know why Eurasian food seems fitting for the holidays, it’s not as if I raised cross-culturally. I think my lack of culinary traditions means that I can substitute whatever I’d like for Christmas dinner. As I mentioned in my previous post, I originally thought of devil curry, a Portuguese-Malay mishmash that often includes canned sausages, but then I realized that I had already made it in 2005. I guess it wasn’t that memorable. To be honest, it was kind of bland and not worth tinkering with in 2007.

Another Eurasian holiday dish curry feng sounds fascinating to an organ meat lover like myself. But lungs aren’t even legal to eat in the U.S. (the recipe I found from Rasa Malaysia calls for lungs, though most others I’ve found do not) and there’s something mildly gruesome about sitting alone chewing on stomach, hearts, intestines, liver and whatever else is in this curry. Kidneys are meant to be shared.

This year I’m unusually lazy even though I have free time galore. I wanted Southeast Asian food without much fuss. Sometimes it’s fun to scour the city for ingredients and spend time chopping and pounding. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered. The only component the average American might not have on hand for this recipe is the kecap manis. I could kick myself for tossing out a bottle a few months ago (instead of a plastic top it had a bottle cap and the crinkled up piece of foil I’d been using to stop it up started to gross me out).

But heading to Chinatown (which is only four subway stops from my apartment, so no complaints) would allow me to pick up some sides. I’m normally all for an everything from scratch approach, but when you’re cooking for one hardcore details can slide. You only have to please yourself. Why make pickles from scratch when sliced sweet and sour turnips and carrots are only $2.29? I like a crunchy, tangy condiment with roast meat, especially Asian-influenced preparations.

Pungent, sweet and spicy shrimp paste encrusted green beans interspersed with whole shrimp were a perfect side for an East-West entrée. Lady fingers (okra) or petai (stink beans) might’ve been uber Malaysian, and they were available from Skyway where I made my purchase, but green beans made more sense in this context. No need to be un-American.

Chinatown_chicken_2

We buy most of our meat from Western Beef because it’s cheap, they have every cut from every animal imaginable, and we’re not caught up enough with organics or free range ethics to have a problem with grocery store flesh. So, the $1.99/lb “fresh young chicken” at Hong Kong Supermarket actually seemed kind of pricey, but I only needed a little guy, 3.5 pounds. I noticed at the check out counter that the chicken was whole, head on, which I’ve never dealt with before.

I’m not squeamish about animals as food (though I certainly don’t want to hang out in slaughterhouses, I don’t understand grown ups who get freaked out by meat with bones. I’ve known many non-vegetarians who can’t cook chicken because skin, veins and bones creep them out) but I was a little perplexed by the head. I’ve never had to chop one off (I wasn’t even sure I was supposed to, but this recipe was unusually specific and said to remove head, feet and cavity fat) so I guess I’m sheltered. Even Kid Nation participants had to kill chickens. I felt bad because I don’t have a cleaver and had to saw the poor thing’s neck.

Chicken_foot_2

Then, I realized it still had legs and feet. I eat chicken feet, no problem but I don’t think the dim sum comes with tiny toenail claws. There were still quite a few feathers left on the bird, too. I learned more about chicken parts this Christmas Eve than I’d anticipated. The tag on the chicken’s wing indicated that it came from my old stomping grounds, Greenwood Heights (yes, I always called it Sunset Park but I’m trying to be un-anal and modern). There are a lot of live poultry markets over there, but I’ve never had the nerve to patronize one.

Buddhist_style_poultry 

I love it when recipes I’ve taken from books are already published on the internet. It saves me tedious typing and the bad karma associated with violating copyright. I’m pleased to see that Salon published this recipe and a few others, too. This is a very good cookbook–one of 2006’s best–that I never ever cook from for absolutely no reason at all.

Kevin's Spiced Roast Chicken with Potatoes, Penang Style

1 whole free-range chicken, 3 1/2 pounds (1.4 kilograms)
1/3 cup (2 1/2 fluid ounces/75 milliliters) soy sauce
2 tablespoons double-black soy sauce
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
3 bay leaves
2 pieces cinnamon stick, each 4 inches (10 centimeters) long
6 whole cloves
5 small red or yellow onions (about 1 pound/455 grams total), each no more than 2 1/2 inches (6 centimeters) long, halved
1 1/2 teaspoons coarsely crushed black pepper
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 pounds (680 grams) small potatoes such as Yukon Gold, Peruvian blue, or Maine, no more than 1 1/2 inches (4 centimeters) in diameter

1. Remove and discard the fat inside the chicken (reserve the head and feet to use in stock if they were attached). Rinse the chicken and thoroughly pat it dry inside and out with paper towels. Tuck the wingtips behind the shoulders.

2. Place the chicken in a bowl large enough to hold it comfortably. Pour both soy sauces and the Worcestershire sauce over it. Add the bay leaves, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and onions. Using your hands or a large spoon, turn the chicken a few times, making sure that some of the liquid, spices, and a few onion halves are slipped inside the cavity. Rub the inside and outside of the chicken with the pepper. Let the chicken marinate, uncovered, at room temperature for 1 to 2 hours. Turn the bird over every 15 minutes or so to distribute the marinade evenly. Its skin will darken a few shades from the soy sauces.

3. Toward the end of the marinating, preheat the oven to 450°F (220°C).

4. Place the chicken, breast side up, in a shallow roasting pan. Scatter the onions around the chicken, making sure that 1 or 2 halves remain inside the cavity. Rub the chicken inside and out with the softened butter. (I like to rub some underneath the breast skin as well, which helps make the breast meat juicier.) Pour the remaining marinade over the chicken, placing the cinnamon sticks and a few of the cloves inside the cavity. Cover the pan loosely with aluminum foil.

5. Roast the chicken for 20 minutes, then turn it over. Tilt the pan toward you and, using a large spoon or baster, baste the chicken and its cavity with the pan juices. Cover the pan once more with the foil and continue roasting for another 20 minutes.

6. Meanwhile, scrub the potatoes but don't peel them. Fill a 3-quart saucepan three-fourths full with water and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the potatoes and cook at a rolling boil until they are just tender when pierced with a fork, 5 to 10 minutes. Drain the potatoes well in a colander.

7. Add the cooked potatoes to the roasting pan. Combine them gently with the onions already in the pan and baste them well with the pan juices. Turn the chicken over again (it should be breast side up this time) and baste it once more. Continue roasting the chicken, uncovered now so that it can brown just a bit, until it's cooked. The total cooking time will range from 1 hour and 10 minutes to 1 1/2 hours. To test for doneness, using a fork, pierce the skin at the thigh joint and press down gently. The juices should have only the faintest tinge of pink. Or, you can insert an instant-read thermometer into the thickest part of the thigh, not touching the bone. The chicken is ready when the thermometer registers 170°F (75°C).

8. Place the chicken on a serving platter. Pour half of the pan juices over it and allow the chicken to rest for at least 10 minutes before carving (this allows time for the juices to be absorbed by the flesh). Place the potatoes and onions around the chicken or in a serving bowl. Pour the remaining pan juices over the potatoes and onions. This chicken is best when served slightly warm. The flavors will be more pronounced and the flesh juicier.

Serves 4

The finished product turned out crispy and burnished from the molasses-based soy. The flavor was only slightly Asian, and not terribly Malaysian; the cloves and cinnamon almost felt Moroccan. I rounded out the chicken with potatoes, onions, my sweet and sour turnips and shrimp studded green beans.

Christmas_eve_dinner 

Since I didn’t end up dining until 1am, technically Christmas day when I was going for an Eve supper, I wasn’t hungry enough to appreciate all the food. Um, and I’d just about polished off a bottle of Charles Shaw Shiraz by the time all was said and done so I’d lost a bit of my original focus. But I expect to fully enjoy my leftovers over the next few nights.

Not-So-Black Friday

In a twisted way, you might consider rising at 3pm on “Black Friday” as the mark of a fun Thanksgiving. Inevitably, food and drink combined with bad TV results in staying up until daybreak. That’s the beauty of Friday off; it’s kind of luxurious to squander it doing absolutely nothing except eating leftovers and lazing about. It’s certainly not any more grotesque than lining up at 4am to buy crap no one needs.

Last year I forwent a whole bird and created a Middle Eastern inspired menu. This year I went traditional and straightforward. I didn’t mean for nearly all of my recipes to come from Epicurious, it just happened. Is that tacky like decorating your house with too many things from the same store? Er, I guess that’s me—over-reliant on Ikea—too.

The gathering was small enough, five including myself, to not feel pressured, and mellow enough to watch the first two episodes of Project Runway while eating (who knew that Sara Jessica Parker could induce bawling in grown men?). At some point Kid Nation was pulled from the DVR. Dawn of the Dead turned out to be a 4am mistake because I ended up having to watch Three’s Company afterwards to counteract the scariness. I’m not thankful for zombies. And while I’m at it, I’m not thankful for Style’s new unsexy, Hot Guys Who Cook, either.

Unfortunately, most of my photos are crooked and out of focus. It’s possible that this was a direct result of too much zinfandel, 1621 cocktails (I actually had Applejack and blood orange bitters on hand, which influenced this drink choice) and hippied-out mac and cheese brought by a friend (that’s not really my kind of baking).

Misorubbed_turkey
Miso-rubbed Turkey

Applejack_gravy
with Bourbon Gravy

It may seem that I went a little wild with miso, using it in two dishes, but it’s subtle and just creates a vague salty, savory flavor. Trying to get compound butter between a turkey’s skin and flesh is a fussy pain in the ass that I won’t likely repeat. Gravy is also kind of a pain. It turned out that I didn’t have any whisky around so I resorted to Applejack, which I’d used to good effect in Thanksgiving gravy a few years ago.

Fruit_and_nut_stuffing
Winter Fruit and Nut Stuffing

I usually go meat-less with the sides to accommodate a range of tastes. I’d forgotten that I’d thrown out a box of prunes last month, so I had to increase the dried cranberries and apricots. It all worked out. This was a drier-style stuffing; I kind of like mine wet and mushy which might transpire after sitting in the fridge overnight.

Pickled_cranberry_compote
Sweet Pickled-Cranberry Compote

The stuffing was sweet so I wanted the cranberries and sweet potatoes to avoid candied flavors. Tart and pickled was a good antidote to sugary and jellied.

Miso_scallion_sweet_potatoes
Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Scallion Butter

Well, I didn’t seek out Japanese tubers like the recipe called for, and I didn’t serve them individually. To save time, I roasted them and mashed them with the miso-scallion butter and warmed in a dish. It was just as well.

Brussels_sprouts_with_chestnuts
Brussels Sprouts with Chestnuts

I love chestnuts in vegetables and the addition of heavy cream amps up the richness even further. Honestly, I’m not sure what the difference is between the $10+ jars of roasted chestnuts in specialty stores and the ones you get in foil packs emblazoned with anthropomorphic logos at Chinese stores for a fraction of the price. I like to stock up at Hong Kong Supermarket and doubt that I would be blown away by the European imports. But I’ve been wrong many times before.

Pecan_and_salted_caramel_cheesecake
Pecan and Salt Caramel Cheesecake

You probably already know that salt and caramel are amazing together. Caramel, pecans and cake made with four blocks of cream cheese would’ve been sufficiently decadent, but the sprinkling of crunchy sea salt added interest to the sweetness.

Sunday Night Special: Steamed Taro with Chopped Salted Chiles

Steamed_yam

My Hunan salted chiles from a few weeks ago were good and fermented (I’m not sure why fermented food seems desirable but liquids not so much. This very second, I’m 1/3 of a way through my first ever bottle of kombucha and I’m not sure if it’s likeable or putrid. I’m having a very tough time not letting the floaties get to me. A friend was raving about it, but then I reminded myself that in college she used to drink apple cider vinegar like it was soda) so I needed a recipe. I still don’t feel like it’s root vegetable weather but steamed taro didn’t sound like a bad idea.

VegetaBut I didn’t end up buying taro, even though it’s not too hard to find disguised as malanga in Caribbean-oriented grocery stores. I saw it at Western Beef Sunday, where I picked up this adorable Croatian packet of seasoning that uses a semi-chopstick-like font.

Recently I picked up a frozen bag of something called ratalu at Patel Brothers. As I’ve stated before, I love all things Swad brand (their microwavable vegetable dishes in a box are only 99-cents–aren't Trader Joe's like $2.99?), so these magenta cubes drew me in. I figured they were taro and I could save all the cleaning and chopping (taro contains irritants—if you recall the Top Chef season two finale, Ilan got taken to task for not cooking his taro leaves long enough).

RataluBut according to web searches it seems that ratalu is a purple yam. I’m not convinced that it’s the same as Filipino ube yet. That was a strange find because just yesterday I decided that I would use my newish ice cream maker to create ube ice cream for a halo-halo experiment and had been wondering how hard it might be to find frozen (fresh is out of the question). Who knew I had in the house already?

I love it when someone else has already typed a recipe out for me. Steamed Taro with Chopped Salted Chile Peppers was posted on Serious Eats back in February when Fuchsia Dunlop's Hunan cookbook came out.

The one thing I’m not clear on is how the taro chunks are supposed to hold up or if they’re even supposed to. I’ve had taro in Chinese casseroles and it stays in squares. This mystery root turned to mush and I ended up just mashing it into a violet paste that tasted much better than it looked. You have to admit that it’s still prettier than poi.

It sounds silly, but the ratalu, whatever it was, tastes lavender. The flesh was barely sweet, more potato than yam and almost perfumey without being sickening like rose water (a personal aversion). The saltiness and mild heat of the chiles and black beans played off this hard to describe mauve flavor and created a dish that would almost go better with grilled meat than white rice. But I’m not one for double starches.