Thinking Outside the Box . . . and A Gratuitous Parrot

I like the parrot. It was a wedding present, given by a witty pair of Brits who told me "we didn't know what to get you, so we're giving you this." My ex was never fond of it; I adored it, as well as the sentiment that brought it into my life, and I have displayed it prominently in every place I've lived since 1983. I love the unexpected, the departure from the road most traveled, the random synapse of the brain that caused someone to say "I'm buying this as a wedding present."

I tend to cook that way too. Rarely do I have ALL of the ingredients in my house for whatever recipe I'm trying to achieve, and I'm either too lazy or unable to run out and get whatever I need, so I "make do." I've always admired the innovative cooks of The Great Depression, who made "apple pie" out of Ritz crackers and otherwise made sure their families had something GOOD to eat. (I'm reading "Grapes of Wrath" right now, too -- great book.)

So yesterday I set out to make homemade Caesar salad dressing from "The Ultimate Southern Living Cookbook" -- if you don't have this, you ought to consider getting it, because the recipes are really good. This week I'm beyond broke, and I couldn't spend money (that I didn't have) for anchovies or egg substitute for the Caesar salad dressing, as I usually do. I don't use egg substitute for anything else EXCEPT Caesar salad dressing, and I didn't see myself having a large Caesar Salad Party anytime in the future, so decided to throw caution to the winds and use a Real Egg. I don't sky dive, ski, or do any other sports that would earn me a higher personal insurance payment, but I will live life on the edge with food. Find me a sushi chef with blowfish, please! I have a 3-day rule on keeping leftovers in my fridge, but raw egg? steak tartare? NO PROBLEM!

I thought I'd try the dressing recipe without the anchovies which admittedly were "optional," according to the recipe, but the finished product didn't have the wonderful snap of flavor of a true Caesar dressing. Inspiration hit: MARMITE! Do NOT turn up your nose at this: it WORKED! The salty punch of flavor of the Marmite perfectly replicated the missing anchovies. I didn't add much -- a little Marmite goes a long way -- just enough for the salty full flavor to give the added kick that was missing from my salad dressing. I am amazed and pleased, and probably won't bother with the anchovies anymore (except as pizza garnishes . . . mmmmmm).

However, the tale does not end here. I had some salad dressing left over when I started dinner. I made scalloped potatoes (from Julia Child's cookbook), chicken breast stuffed with Havarti cheese, and spinach quickly wilted in a little olive oil with chopped garlic, sea salt, fresh ground pepper, and lemon juice. Usually when I make stuffed chicken breast, I make an egg/lemon juice/cornstarch wash to dip it in before rolling it in Italian style bread crumbs. Last night I decided to use the Caesar salad dressing as the wash (well, it DID have a Real Egg and lemon juice in it!), and it was pretty damned awesome. No waste of the raw egg dressing (or another egg and another lemon), and a very delicious chicken breast.

This morning I used some of the leftover potatoes in scrambled eggs with green chilis, topped with Mexican cheese and salsa. I may try using the rest of the leftover potatoes to make fish cakes, but more on that later . . . . I'll turn that around in my mind for a while. It might just work!

I'll ask the parrot.

That's Amore!

I don't know why making homemade spaghetti sauce seemed like a good idea in the middle of a work week, but I couldn't get rid of the siren call of making a slow simmered dinner on Tuesday night. The weather's a little cooler, I had canned tomatoes in the pantry and, so far, the perfect marinara sauce has eluded me. Mine have been too thin, too thick, too heavy, not enough flavor, too overpowering. I. Want. Perfection.

I did my research and came up with a basic recipe that seemed like it would work. Naturally, diving into the procedure, I discovered that I did not have ALL of the ingredients in the required quantities, but us Sagittarians are, if nothing else, Master Improvisors, so I dove in anyway. The end result is pretty damned good. Okay, I MAY have put in a little too much wine. *Ack* That hurt to even say it. Enough apologies, here's the recipe, Nina style:

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
6 garlic cloves, sliced (oh, go on -- add a few more cloves)
8 oz. fresh mushrooms, chopped (might add more next time, might not)

1/2 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
1 28-ounce can Italian plum tomatoes, chopped, juices reserved
1 cup red wine
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
1 6-ounce can tomato paste
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil, oregano, and thyme

Heat oil in heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add onion; sauté until tender, about 10 minutes. Add garlic; sauté 1 minute. Add mushrooms and crushed red pepper; sauté until mushrooms just begins to soften, about 5 minutes. Add tomatoes and reserved juices. Cover and simmer 15 minutes. Add tomato sauce, sugar, basil and oregano. Cover and cook 15 minutes. Uncover and simmer until slightly thickened, about 5 minutes. Season with Kosher salt and pepper.

This was thick but not clumpy, had a WONDERFUL texture with the mushrooms, and an awesome flavor. It's a keeper.

Now, in addition to the great recipe, I had a bottle of Bolla Chianti (thank you, Exxon), and Pandora One (thank you, Rick) blasting my Dean Martin channel with "Volare," "That's Amore," and other absolutely perfect Italian inspirational tunes. Apologies to the neighbors. My singing got louder as the level in the chianti bottle went down. Murphy the basset hound started howling at one point, which did temper my singing somewhat . . . .

Eliminate the singing if you must, but definitely try this recipe!

You Get What You Pay For

This was NOT my best meal. Jackson came over for dinner tonight, so of course I wanted to do something delicious. My budget, however, was less than nothing, so when I saw three T-bones at Fiesta Mart for a total of $4.84, I grabbed them. I made homemade French fries, red wine sauce with mushrooms, steamed broccoli, homemade rolls and chocolate chip cookies.

Those, steaks, though, brought back memories of Australia. I don't mean the "shrimp on the barbie" succulence that Outback Steak House promotes as the taste of Australia. MY taste of Australia, way back in 1970-73, was of paper thin steaks slapped onto a greasy piece of hot metal with flies buzzing around. The steaks were tough (which is why they were thin -- you couldn't chew them if they were any thicker) and tasteless. The beer was great, though, so usually by the time the steaks were charred and pronounced "ready," everyone was too buzzed to care. Love that Aussie beer . . .

The flavor of the steaks was passable, but they were tough and, definitely, worth what I paid for them. They won't go to waste, though. I have Murphy the basset hound staying with me for three days, and I'm SURE he'll know EXACTLY what to do with the leftovers.

Which Is Why I'm Doing Two Posts In One Night

Now we shall discuss "oaked" vs. "unoaked" cabernet sauvignon. Since my daughter and I are sharing a car (which basically means she has the car whenever she needs it and I'm taking the bus/train), my grocery shopping on the weekend is worked around her work schedule. I can take the bus/train to work with very little effort, but she really needs transportation to get there and back. I love the challenge of my new life. It's a game to see if I can get where I need to be, make meals with NO money, juggle bills, and somehow pay down my debts (or at least keep from defaulting on anything).

The economy regretfully shut down the Albertson's that was within walking distance of my house, but there is an Exxon station. And I have an Exxon card. During skinny paycheck periods or when I'm without wheels, I can walk to Exxon and choose from a pathetic array of wines that range from Boone's Farm (hell will freeze over) to the not-too-bad-but-seriously-overpriced Estancia and Clos du Bois.

This past Sunday, being at a loose end, without wheels -- and without dryer sheets and wine -- I walked over to the Exxon station and browsed. I noticed a wine that proudly announced it was an Unoaked Cabernet Sauvignon, so I decided to do a taste test and compare the Estancia to the Simply Naked to see what the difference was.

Now, I have a LOT to learn about wine, as anyone who has read this blog knows, so I was curious to learn why one would or would not put cabernet sauvignon in an oak barrel. I hit the Internet to find out why, but my quick research merely unearthed the idea that it's cheaper to put wine in steel barrels than oak ones. Well, the unoaked wine WAS cheaper . . . I tasted both, a glass of unoaked and then a glass of oaked, while working on my current oil painting and singing to my Diana Krall station on Pandora. The unoaked Simply Naked cab had more of a pronounced grape flavor with less complicated undertones than the oaked Estancia. Actually, the first sip reminded me more of grape juice than wine, though getting deeper into the glass let me find a bright flavor that is not half bad. (I'm drinking it tonight, as I write this.) Personally, I prefer the oaked -- it's a little smoother, with a depth that I found lacking in the Simply Naked cab.

Okay, still on my Bucket List is a proper course on wine appreciation. I'd like to develop my palate and be able to articulate what I am drinking, break down the components and appreciate the subtleties of each vintage. Good wine is amazing; great wine is an art form.

And here's an option for leftover pork butt: chop it up with green onions, cilantro, and green chiles. Roll mixture in corn tortillas and fry. Serve with sour cream and salsa. Leftover Yum!!!

I Hate It When I Get Behind . . .

You know how psychologists say that we all have a movie of ourselves playing in our head? Well, I have this blog in mine, and I think of great things to write, but then real life picks me up and gallops off in another direction. However, before I get TOO behind, I shall write about pork butt. [NOTE: Pun alert . . . butt . . . behind . . . GET IT???]

So Fiesta Mart had a great sale on pork butts. I bought one, cut it in half, froze one half and contemplated what I was going to do with the other half. The Food Network show "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives" is always good for inspiration, and I love watching the cooks throw spices at a piece of meat and have it come out delicious.

That's what I did to the half-a-pork-butt: I threw my BBQ rub on it (equal parts of brown sugar, smoked paprika, and Cajun seasoning) and put it in the crock pot with some white wine, parts of an onion that looked like it was about to be unusable, and . . . a whole dried ancho chile. Now, on the show, the cooks reverently allow the meat to marinate in the spices overnight, but I rarely think that far ahead -- well, I THINK that far ahead, I just usually don't get up and DO it. So I threw it all in the crock pot on my way out the door to catch the bus.

Well, it was delicious. Maybe with the other half I'll see if marinating it overnight deepens the flavor, but it was just FINE as it came out. The ancho chile deepened the flavor of the BBQ seasonings, and the meat was melt-in-your-mouth tender. Yum.

Hash!

I've been trying for two days to write about the hash I made the other night, and I couldn't come up with anything interesting or witty to say. Of course, I finally realized it's because there really isn't anything brilliant about hash -- it's a very plebian, slightly dull, comfort food (at least the way I make it). But I love it, and isn't it that stolidly boring predictability what makes it a comfort food?

What's yours?

We all have them. In fact, there's a show on The Food Network called "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" and some of the favorite foods of the chefs will make you raise an eyebrow and think "yeah, right, to each his own." We should never judge, just enjoy the wonderful diversity of tastes, customs, habit and cultures that make up our earth.

You know, I hope there is life on other planets, because I'd love to know what THEY eat.

Oh, and Smoking Loon Merlot, at under $10 a bottle, goes great with hash made from leftover chuck roast. (I put a little IN the hash too, just for shits and giggles.)

My hash recipe (courtesy of my mother, really): chop up potatoes, onion, garlic, and leftover roast. Sauté everything but the roast in some olive oil, then add leftover gravy and enough water to liquefy so the potatoes will cook. Add salt, pepper and Herbes de Provence (or whatever herbs you like) to taste. When the potatoes are cooked, add the roast and heat through. Thicken gravy if needed.

You can throw the wine in whenever you like during the process, or just stand there and drink it. I'm not convinced it adds anything to the hash, but it makes me feel vaguely gourmet about the whole process, e.g., "I'm not just standing here drinking, I'm COOKING."

Top lavishly with ketchup (the hash, not the wine) and enjoy!

Hot Texas Summer . . .

No, I didn't eat the bird. Its bedraggled feathers and panting demeanour, in my opinion, perfectly sum up how this Dallas, Texas summer of 2011 has felt. Blistering, wiltering, overpowering heat for 70 days. It's a new record. Whoopee.

However, I enjoyed the 90 days of June, July and August, in spite of the heat. I had a new job and a new living arrangement (house, roommate). The job sucked but the cooking at my house was spectacular! I love playing off the creative instincts of another good cook who's as competitive as I am, so together and separately we cooked amazing meals. The Cooking Channel played almost constantly to keep the creative juices flowing.

Rick wins in our theoretical cooking competition, with perfect risotto handed to me at 12:40 a.m. with a glass of wine, as I dragged in from work. (I need a different job, by the way. I'm too old for this shit.) That thoughtfulness -- and the food -- revived me enough to show up for work the next day.

However, I was able to counter with an awesome Sunday al fresco lunch consisting of fresh-made coleslaw, hot bollilos grabbed as they came out of the oven at Fiesta Mart, a whole snapper and whole tilapia plucked live from the tank, cleaned and gutted at the store, and grilled over mesquite wood chips. That was a vodka/tonic, rum/juice event, appropriate for this summer.

Summer is OVER (would someone please tell the atmosphere that???) and Rick is back in cool California. He taught me to appreciate Marmite. I showed him how to eat raw oysters. We watched innumerable episodes of "Chopped," "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives," and gained some weight. Good times and bad times, and lots of memories. Life is still good!

But I still need another job. Seriously.