Risotto with Lagostino

It's Monday after Thanksgiving. The holiday is officially over. More or less. The leftover turkey - about a quarter-breast - was vacuum-sealed and frozen, along with an equal amount of smoked turkey breast and the last of the gravy. It will come out in the winter as a pot pie, of sorts. Waste not, want not.

And, as the holiday is officially over, we needed something for dinner that had nothing to do with the flavors of fall. As I was checking cabinets before my weekly shopping trek, I saw a box of Carnaroli rice. Risotto, it is!

Risotto is the perfect clean-out-the-refrigerator dish - absolutely anything can go into it and it's always good. Since I'm in use-up mode, I pulled some lagostino out of the freezer, a leek and a small bulb of fennel from the 'fridge. and 2 bottles of clam juice from the cupboard.

Dinner was set.

We spent the weekend decorating - what used to take one long day now takes three - and a simple dinner was really just what we were looking for.

It's funny that 22 years ago we started early on Black Friday putting up the tree and decorating the entire house - inside, outside, floors, walls, ceiling, trees, bushes, plants - and just kept going until it was all done. Now it's, Meh.. There's always tomorrow. Is Jeopardy on, yet?!? Interesting how age and attitude dictates how things are done... The bulk of it still happens Friday, but we give ourselves the entire weekend to fine-tune everything.

And by Monday, it's time to rejoin the human race and start eating things that don't involve cranberry sauce.

The risotto really was simple - and really good.

Risotto with Lagostino

  • 1 cup arborio, carnaroli, or other risotto rice
  • 1 small leek
  • 1 clove garlic
  • 1 small bulb fennel
  • 12 oz lagostino, thawed, if frozen
  • 1 cup white wine
  • 2 cups clam broth
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 cup grated cheese
  • 1/2 cup chopped parsley
  • S&P, to taste

Chop leek and fennel. saute in a combination of butter and olive oil until wilted and starting to caramelize a bit. Add minced garlic.

Add 1 cup of rice and saute until the rice is translucent. Add 1 cup white wine and stir until most of it has been absorbed.

Heat the clam juice and water and add by half-cupfuls, stirring and waiting until it has been absorbed before adding the next.

When rice is just about done, stir in the lagostino and cook until done.

Stir in the cheese and the parsley. Check for seasoning and add salt and pepper, as desired.

This is pretty much my basic risotto - the ingredients change to whatever is around the house, but the proportions pretty much remain constant.

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Here's a preview of the outside...

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Leftovers

The best part of Thanksgiving Dinner is the leftovers. Of all the holidays, it's the one I really like to host. Turkey soup the day after while we start our Christmas decorating is a tradition I love. Carols playing and the scent of turkey wafting through the house while we lug box after box of decorations from the basement is the ultimate in holiday cheer.

While the masses are out clogging the stores, we're decorating the tree, laughing at the ungodly amount of ornaments we have, and remembering where each one came from and the story behind it. We really do have a lot of ornaments - 22 years of collecting - and it doesn't appear that we're done, yet. There's at least a half-dozen that are making their debut this year.

Our ornaments are the reason we finally switched to an artificial tree. Real trees just couldn't keep up with our growing collection - not to mention how dry they got by New Year's Day.

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Floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall - we decorate. Every room has a tree, every room has decorations. And every year we switch it up a bit. Once upon a time, the tree went in the window. It meant completely redoing the entire room, and running another cable line for the TV. Now, it goes in the corner and the rocking chair goes down to the basement. It's a lot easier, but the room doesn't get the deep-clean it used to get when every single piece of furniture found a new home. I'll live with the dust under the couch.

Decorating can really work up an appetite - and leftovers are just the cure! Just pop into the kitchen for some turkey on a roll, nuke a cup of soup, or have a piece of pie or cake with a cup of tea. It's all good.

Lunch was hot turkey sandwiches with mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Every bit of it came out of tupperware containers. Dinner, tonight will be leftover eggplant lasagne. It was so good - and it's only better after it has had a chance to sit. Warmed up homemade rolls with lots of butter... I'm drooling...

Also, tonight the outdoor lights go on. I have to wait until dark to fine-tune, but they're all in place and ready to go.

Now for cookie-baking!


22 years of Thanksgivings

22 years. 22 years of fun in the kitchen. Hell - 22 years of fun, period. Forever and yesterday at the same time. 22 years.

We're spending this anniversary as we have spent most of them - in the kitchen. It's great having an anniversary around the biggest food holiday of the year. We do like to eat.

22 years. It boggles the mind how far we've come. Our first two Thanksgivings together were defining moments, to say the least. Our first was in San Francisco with my family. The second was in Pennsylvania with Victor's. Both deserve retelling...

Thanksgiving was the first major holiday we were hosting for my entire family. We had a great house with a formal dining room and, in theory, anyway, lots of room for a crowd.

With six kids in the family and their assorted spouses and kids, plus my parents, it had been years since we all actually sat around a table for a holiday.  We just outgrew it.  Regardless of whether it was at my parents’ house or one of the siblings, dinner was a buffet and you grabbed whatever seat or floor space there was.  If you had a good seat, you stayed there – because the moment you got up, another sat down.

I decided that for our first family holiday, we would do a sit-down dinner for everyone.  We were also having a couple of friends join us, plus my sister-in-law’s mother, brother, and his wife.  Maybe 22 people.

The simple fact that our dining room table sat 8 shoulder-to-shoulder didn’t faze me in the least.  Sit-down dinner.  I had decreed.

I had six-foot folding tables lined up from the far end of the dining room through the dining room and through the archway into the living room.  The table had to be way up against one end of the arch so people could squeeze (and I do mean squeeze) from one room to the other.  Once people were seated, there would be no movement whatsoever.  People sitting at the archway would be sitting right up next to the wall.  They could lean forward and look around, but they were crammed up against that wall.

I set the table.  20 feet of matching tablecloth and napkins.  China plates, silver and glassware, centerpieces, candles.  It was pretty spectacular.  The only real problem was there was no place to put people before or after dinner, and barely any where to put them during.  I had literally taken over all of the dining room and half of the living room.

I moved things, I rearranged things.  I was good in math.  I knew that a finite space would hold a finite amount.  I didn’t care.  I was determined.

Victor was great (and smart!)  He didn’t say a word.  He just watched as I moved things, changed things, rearranged things, redid things and redid them, again – and again.

Finally, I stood in the doorway and just stared.  My vision shattered in front of my eyes.

I calmly walked back in, took everything apart, and set up a buffet in the dining room.  Or, at least that’s my memory of it.  I’m sure Victor has a much more colorful version, but I’m the one who is writing this.

What we did have was a great dinner with the entire family – and they grabbed whatever seats or floor was available and ate and drank and ate and drank some more.

And a wonderful time was had by all.

The following year we headed east.

I had only met Victor’s family a couple of times.  Once when I had stolen him from them and moved him to California, and once when we flew back for his cousin’s wedding.  There were phone calls, letters, cards, and emails, but not a lot of face-time.  That was about to change.  We were heading back to Pennsylvania and his brother’s house for Thanksgiving!

The family wanted me to feel welcome and was asking Victor what I liked, what could or should they do… Victor just said don’t worry.  Throw him in the kitchen and he’ll be fine.

On Thanksgiving Day, that’s where they threw me.  I was put in charge of Turkey and Gravy.  Perfect.  Two things I could do blindfolded, standing on one leg, with an arm tied behind my back.

Tim can cook turkey and make gravy.

But…  Tim was going to make sure this was a PERFECT turkey and gravy.  I grabbed Marie’s thermometer.  I had actually never really used a meat thermometer before.  There are a dozen ways of telling whether a bird is done, and I know them all.  I’ve cooked many a turkey in my time.  But I was not leaving anything to chance this time.  Perfect Turkey.  Thermometer.

Into the fattest part of the thigh it went, and into the oven went it all.  I basted, I spun it around, I babied that bird, and when it hit temperature, i took it right out of the oven.  The timing was perfect.  I didn’t pay attention to anything I had learned or known in the past.  The thermometer was God and that was that.

Everything was just about ready and I went to carve the bird.  First slice in and I had a raw bird.  I had an OMG IT’S NOT COOKED raw bird with Victor’s family starting to make those “When’s dinner ready?” noises.  Victor’s mom had been watching all of this and just told everyone to shut up and get out of the kitchen.  She played interference with the family while I scrambled in the kitchen.  (I do love that woman!)

I came as close to panic as I ever want to come in my life.  My insides were churning and I was ready to throw up.  I was trying to look calm – and I pretty much succeeded – but I was anything but calm inside.  I turned the oven up to 500 degrees, split the breast from the legs and thighs, and back into the oven it went.  In 25 minutes, we had the most tender and juicy bird imaginable.  Perfectly cooked, with excellent gravy.

I found out later that evening that Marie’s thermometer was 15 degrees off.  The next day we braved the crowds and bought her a new one.

Since then, our Thanksgivings have been a little less stressful - well... for me, anyway. I just make the messes and Victor cleans.

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It's really a great system.

We're having a fairly small group tomorrow by our standards - a mere 10. Of course, that's not stopping our massive cooking spree. It just means it's a 20lb turkey instead of a 33-pounder. Thanksgiving is all about excess, right?

I actually start planning the meal a month or so in advance with an Excel spreadsheet - listing the appetizers, the actual dinner, and desserts. I tend to keep adding things as I see a new recipe or get an idea about something and when the list looks just too ridiculously long even for me, we start culling and tweaking until we finally hit upon a happy excess.

The 2016 menu is:

Appetizers

Pickled Cauliflower
Little Gram's Eggplant
Cheeses
Smoked Sausage
Smoked Turkey
Breads
Crackers
Olives
Artichokes
Cranberry Mayonnaise
Cranberry Mustard

Dinner

Eggplant Lasagne
Turkey
Nonna's Dressing
Mashed Potatoes
Gravy
Savory Pumpkin Pie
Marie's Sweet Potatoes
Stacked Sweet Potatoes and Apples
Corn Pudding
Green Beans
Salad
Milk Rolls
Cranberry Sauce
Canned Cranberry Sauce

Desserts

Pumpkin Pie
Bourbon Cake
Pumpkin Caramel Cheesecake
Pecan Tart
Wedding Rings

The cauliflower was grown in our garden this year, as was the eggplant for Little Gram's Eggplant. We're getting our money's worth out of that garden, for sure! Everything else is pretty much scratch-cooked, as well, except for the can of Jellied Cranberry Sauce that will be in my mom's dish she always used - nice, round rings. It puts a smile on my face every time it goes on the table.

The smoked turkey and smoked sausage come from Robertson's Hams in Oklahoma. It's where we get our Easter hams every year. The savory pumpkin pie concept come from La Cucina Italiana. The corn pudding recipe is from our friend, Susan. Milk rolls recipe from a restaurant in North Carolina via Bon Appetit magazine. The desserts are just stuff we make. I took my basic cheesecake recipe and reworked it to become pumpkin. The bourbon cake recipe has a murky past. I found the recipe back in 2003 but have no idea where it originated. It's been in my recipe folder on my computer for 13 years. What can I say? I'm an electronic recipe packrat, as well. Ya never know when the mood will strike to make something to saw 15 years ago...

But back to the present...

After 22 years of doing this together, there's no angst, no issues, no worries. Just plenty of fun and plenty of food.

Here's to the next 22...


Savory Pumpkin Tart

A couple of months ago when I was perusing recipes for Thanksgiving - yes, I start thinking about this stuff more than the day before dinner - I came across an online recipe from La Cucina Italiana that looked interesting. A savory Pumpkin Tart in a puff pastry crust. Puff pastry is my friend, and savory pumpkin is my other friend. The two together sounded like something I needed to pursue a bit further.

The La Cucina Italiana website is fun - since the demise of the English edition, I have to rely on the Italian edition - because I'm just so fluent in Italian. Google translate makes a mockery of recipes and it's only by actually knowing how to cook and understanding the metric system from my drug-taking days that I can figure out some of the recipes. I was able to grasp the concept of this one - the actual recipe didn't matter.

I had time today to do some baking so off to the kitchen I went. I made a Pumpkin Caramel Swirl Cheese Cake and then decided to make the Pumpkin Tart. It was one of the easiest things I have ever attempted - and the house was full of autumn scents. It came out looking perfect, if I do say so m'self...

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Victor came into the kitchen and said he didn't think the puff pastry would last in the 'fridge until Thursday. And then he said we should probably have it for dinner, tonight. Gotta love a man who thinks ahead.

He was probably right - puff pastry really doesn't hold up well under refrigeration - and it was the perfect excuse to try a new dish.

What I really liked about this was we were able to actually taste pumpkin - not all of the spices normally associated with Pumpkin Pie. And no sugar. It was not at all sweet. The perfect balance of flavors. It was great.

Savory Pumpkin Pie

  • ½ lb puff pastry
  • 1 can pumpkin
  • 2/3 cup minced shallots
  • 2 eggs
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 3 oz grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
  • 1/2 tsp thyme
  • pinch garlic powder
  • salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 425°F / 220°C.

Roll out pastry to fit tart dish or pan. Refrigerate while making filling.

Saute shallots in butter until wilted. In bowl, mix cooked shallots with pumpkin. Add eggs and remaining ingredients, mixing well.

Pour into puff pastry crust and trim crust to fit pan. (It's actually easier to fill the tart and then trim the crust - nothing falls down or gets under the crust.)

Place in hot oven and bake about 25 minutes or until tart is cooked and filling is set.

Cool and serve at room temperature.

I used shallots because I had shallots in the house. Onion would work - and so would leeks.

Since we had a lot left over - Nonna doesn't eat pumpkin - the rest went into the 'fridge for lunch tomorrow. We'll get to see first hand how the puff pastry stands up under refrigeration. Personally, I think it will be just fine - and I'm really glad we ate it, tonight!

 

 


Ravioli

Thanksgiving is a week away. That means cleaning out the 'fridge so we can get more food in there. I'm finally getting better at holiday cooking amounts - I get that we really don't need 20 pounds of potatoes - but what screws me up is adding yet another dish to the menu.

There are just so many different foods out there screaming to be eaten and Thanksgiving is the perfect time to cook up 27 or 28 of them. And that's just the appetizers. Then there's the actual meal. There are so many ways to cook sweet potatoes that three of them would not be unheard of. And a couple different stuffings. I draw the line at green bean casserole, though. No green bean casserole on our table. No. Absolutely not.

But desserts... We really can't have too many desserts. Several pies, tarts, at least one cheese cake. I think a lemon ricotta cake will be made this year. There's a dozen different things I've been eyeing.  Let's face it - there just aren't a lot of days that are dedicated to unbridled gluttony. I have to take advantage of this.

We have one refrigerator/freezer. I actually refuse to get another because I would fill it up. I can't even imagine the havoc I would wreak with more freezer and refrigeration space. As it is, a couple of times a year I don't shop and force the use of stuff in the freezer. It can get interesting, but I just can't see letting things sit anywhere for years. Buy it and use it within a reasonable time. It's a great concept and sometimes I even follow it.

But back to Thanksgiving. In order to cook and store food for the holiday, I have to make sure there's room for everything. Clean-out-the-refrigerator-time. In years past, I've actually been able to leave things outside. This week will be in the 50s & 60s. Mother Nature doesn't always play nice.

Tonight's clean-out was ravioli, ground pork, and pancetta. I decided we needed something a bit different, so I made a creamy cheese sauce for the ravioli instead of opening a jar of Victor's sauce. The sauce is downstairs in the basement with all the other canned foods from this summer so it doesn't count against the refrigerator and kitchen cabinet clean-outs. My house. My rules.

There wasn't really a recipe... these meals are generally wing-it because odds are they'll never be replicated - but the concept was pretty straightforward.

I sauteed a small chopped onion with 4 oz of diced pancetta. I added a pound of ground pork and cooked it all through. Then a splash of white wine - because it was right by the stove - and about 2 cups of chicken broth that was opened in the 'fridge and also needed using up.

About a half-cup of heavy cream, a hefty pinch of herbes de Provence, maybe a half-cup of grated parmesan, and a bit of cornstarch to thicken, and dinner was served.

Things should be more or less emptied, washed, and ready for refilling this weekend. The other upside, is the shelves all get a good cleaning - not that they need it. Much.

 

 

 


Chicken and Grits - with a loaf of bread, to boot

Yes, we're still eating. Granted, I haven't had much of an appetite since Wednesday morning, but we're still eating.

Being creative in the kitchen helps to focus me. And lawsy knows I need a bit of focus, right now.

Baking bread is the ultimate in calming. There's something about flour and water coming together to create something totally different than either item, alone, that is pretty much a recipe for what we should be doing as a people.

Flour, water, salt, yeast... Four things totally different - they look different, they act different. They come from different places. Each on their own has something to give - and all four of them together create something truly magical. Each offers up itself to become something greater than their individual selves.

I've always maintained that food is the great equalizer. That if we would just sit down together at table and share our different foods, we would be in a better place.

As a kid growing up, our neighborhood was a mini-UN. We had kids from all over the world as our friends and playmates. Directly across the street were Filipinos. At 6 years of age I was eating Lumpia and Pancit and Adobo. How can you possibly hate a group of people who make Lumpia?!?

When Uncle Sam's Yacht Club brought me to The Philippines, I was right at home. I had heard Tagalog being spoken for 13 or so years. It wasn't foreign. I knew the culture and now I got to see where my best friends were from. I got away from Subic Bay and Olongapo City and traveled up to Manila, to Baguio, to really see the country.

In Hong Kong we went way out in the New Territories to the Red China border. We didn't take a tour - we took the Star Ferry to Kowloon, a train to Sheng Shui, and a rickety local bus to the border point. Americans were not allowed in China, but I stuck my foot through the fence at the border. The land on one side of the fence looked just like the land on the other. The people were all the same - it was just a line drawn by someone. Again, the food. Growing up in San Francisco gave me free reign in Chinatown. The one thing I found out was how different the Chinese food in San Francisco was compared to the Chinese food in China. I ate it with gusto because it was just so good. Noodles are noodles - you really don't need to know what's being mixed up with them when it tastes so awesome.

The best omelette I have ever eaten in my life was made by a Malaysian man in Singapore - in a wok on a street corner. He spoke no English but he knew how to take some of the freshest ingredients around and turn them into a fiery-hot plate of feathery-light eggs and vegetables and peppers and herbs. I can still see his gold-toothed smiling face as I swooned while eating. It was seriously one of the greatest things I have ever eaten.

Hearing different languages being spoken as a child piqued my curiosity. It made me wonder what was being said - how they could understand one another using all of those different sounds. And sitting around the table, playing games - mahjong with the Aunties or poker with Uncle Joe - was like sitting around my own house with my own relatives. Everyone talked at once, everyone ate, drank, laughed - it was all the same.

Because we are all the same.

The song from South Pacific plays in my mind a lot.

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!

I was lucky. I was eating Lumpia.

And tonight it was Grits. From Adluh in Columbia, South Carolina. Best grits around. Of course, being married to an Italian, we call it polenta. Same thing. Different name. Shrimp and Grits, Polenta and Scampi.

We're all the same.

 

I added some sweet potatoes left from the other night and floured the chicken in Adluh's Palmetto Dust - "A roasted garlic pepper breader that can be used as a coating for fish, chicken, pork, green tomatoes, pickles or onion rings."  It was really good. Even Nonna ate it all!

I made the bread with King Arthur Artisan Bread Flour.

Multi-Grain Bread

Ingredients

  • 1 package active dry yeast
  • 2 tsp sugar
  • 1 cup warm water (100° to 115°, approximately)
  • 1 1/2 tsp salt
  • 2 1/2 cups bread flour
  • 1/2 cup rye flour

Directions

Combine the yeast with sugar and warm water in a large bowl and allow to proof. Mix the salt with the flour and add to the yeast mixture, a cup at a time, until you have a stiff dough. Remove to a lightly floured board and knead until no longer sticky, about 10 minutes, adding flour as necessary. Place in a buttered bowl and turn to coat the surface with butter. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, 1½ to 2 hours.

Punch down the dough. Turn out on a floured board and shape into a round. Place on a baking sheet that has been sprinkled with cornmeal. Preheat oven to 400°F and let rise until doubled. Bake 35 minutes, or until well browned and hollow sounding when the top is rapped.

Carefully taught.

 

 


The Last Supper

Well... Last Breakfast would be more like it, but Last Supper sounds so much more dramatic.

It's the Last Breakfast because tomorrow afternoon - 2pm to be exact - I go in for my colonoscopy. Yes, it's Roto-Rooter time.

Low-residue until 1pm, clear liquids until 7pm, and then real fun begins. A gallon of Golytely split between tonight and tomorrow morning.

Golytely. Really. Who named this stuff? I hear that and immediately think Holly Golightly from Bathrooms at Tiffany's.

Golytely. As if.

I don't know how many of you have ever had the pleasure of a colonoscopy, but they're a necessity over 50 and earlier with family history. My paternal grandfather died of colon cancer in 1953 when I was only 14 months old. My Uncle Tom - one of the greatest guys to ever walk this planet - died of colon cancer in 1987. Grandpa was 59, Uncle Tom was 65. They were still kids.

I'm 64 and I sure as hell ain't ready to go. There are just soooo many people I haven't annoyed yet. I need years and years. So in I go.

I've had quite a few of them over the years, starting when I was 40. The procedure itself is painless. You're knocked out and the Doctor just does his work. I usually wake up right away with a feeling of euphoria. Great drugs! It's the prep work that's a pain. You need to be completely cleaned out and the process isn't the most pleasant thing one can do - especially if it's spread over 2 days like mine will be.

The only difficult part, really, is the drinking of the solution. 64 ounces in 2 hours. That doesn't sound like a lot - hell, back in the day that was beer and shots on any given weekend - but with this stuff, it starts getting old by the third glass. By glass number 8, you're done. And then I get to do it all over again in the morning. Oh, joy.

But... if it's going to keep me around a bit longer to keep getting into trouble, it's worth it.

Golytely. That name still gets me.