My new Best Friends Forever

I suppose everyone goes through phases in which one cannot get enough of a certain foodstuff or method of cooking and develops a sudden passion, like those of adolescents for a temporary crush.

This week (or possibly month, for it has already lasted some time), my two special best friends forever-ever-ever are kale (or chard, if I can't find kale) and a new cooking pot called Gastrolux Biotan (registered trademark and don't you forget it). I even took a picture of the two together (and for those who know me, this has got to be a first-ever event).

What you see here is an unremarkable weeknight dinner, with a mix of brown and red rice, ground pork, onion, red and yellow peppers, zucchini (courgettes), and kale, in my wonderful new skillet.

The skillet is amazing because nothing burns and nothing sticks, and it doesn't flake like Teflon. You can throw any meat into it, without adding oil, and it will cook beautifully with whatever fat is already in the meat.

And kale is amazing, because you can heat it and wilt it and yet it remains robustly green and frilly, whereas spinach turns to slime under the same conditions. And I say this as someone who loves spinach.

I hasten to add that I am not being paid by the Gastrolux people or the Kale Kouncil of America to make these claims. I am honestly in thrall to my skillet and to greens that were once of only mild academic interest.

I sometimes use the skillet to do a quick stir-fry of kale (or chard) with a bit of olive oil and garlic; this then becomes a bed for any available protein (chicken, fish, steak).

I daresay that my crush will wane, as these things do, but for now it's me and my skillet, my bunch of kale, and my gas stove. We are invincible.

Bean there, done that

In my ongoing efforts to replace ordinary packaged products with their homemade equivalents, I decided to try making baked beans from scratch. I spotted a recipe in Saveur magazine that looked reasonable.

At 1 a.m. this morning, I realized I had forgotten to put the beans in water to soak overnight. So I got up and did that. Saveur includes a fallback for quick soaking (boil for 2 minutes then soak for an hour and a half), but I was trying to go the traditional route. By 9 a.m. the beans were nicely soaked.

First thing in the morning, I made a batch of homemade ketchup, since the recipe called for ketchup. This may sound as if I am taking things altogether too far, but it takes only 5 minutes prep time, then I put it on the stove to bubble away while I am doing other things in the kitchen, so it hardly cuts into my schedule.

The next step involved studding a couple of shallots with cloves, which felt vaguely like a Pioneer Village craft (English readers will have no idea what I am talking about). The recipe called for onions, but I had shallots instead. I also substituted little cubes of pancetta for the bacon. Let’s not get too traditional here.

I halved the recipe in the magazine, so we wouldn’t be eating baked beans until kingdom come. As I write, the beans have another half hour of cooking to go, but the taste test suggests they will be worth it. The tinned variety is comparatively textureless and bland. These beans are a bit chewier and the flavour is more complex. 

So if you want to try it yourself, here’s what you do. I apologize for the mix of Imperial and metric, but metric is helpful when you are halving odd quantities, such as “ ¼ cup plus two tablespoons” (for heaven’s sake). I should also note that some of the amounts have not been halved exactly. But this worked for me. 

½ lb. navy beans

1 shallot, trimmed and peeled, but left whole

8 whole cloves (the recipe called for 4 for twice the number of beans, which seemed a little too subtle)

4 oz. pancetta, cut into small cubes

40 ml maple syrup

25 ml unsulphured molasses (i.e., the stuff that says “no sulphites”)

1 tsp dry mustard

3 cups boiling water

⅓ cup ketchup

2 teaspoons cider vinegar 

Heat the oven to 250°F or 130°C. Stud the shallot with the cloves. Put it in a casserole with a lid. Add the drained beans, pancetta, maple syrup, molasses, mustard, and boiling water. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 hours. Add the ketchup and vinegar and give it another 3 hours, stirring every so often.Take out the clove-studded shallots before serving.

The original recipe suggesting stirring in dark rum before serving, but we didn’t have any and it seemed rather too precious, so I ignored this ingredient. And I didn’t bother with salt and pepper either. We can add that later if it seems to need it, but I don’t think it will.

If you live in New England, serve with brown bread. If not, I recommend a green salad and baguette.

We may never go back to Heinz.

Come by Chance Meatloaf

I may have a graduate degree in planning, but I am not a planner. I read in magazines about people who plan their menus a week in advance and I am in awe. I couldn’t do that. Too much organization involved. With the exception of a few slow cooker recipes that require a few hours’ notice, my usual routine is to wander into the kitchen in the mid to late afternoon, open the refrigerator, glare in, and do some quick calculations. Do I need to run over to the grocery store before dark? Or can I wing it with what we have?

A couple of days ago, I explored as far as the freezer and came up with some frozen ground turkey. I put it out to defrost and figured that inspiration would strike later.

Well, it didn’t. And dinnertime was coming up. In despair, I turned to the Internet and Googled “ground turkey.” Lasagna? No. Meatballs? No. Chili? No. Then I found something that spoke to me: turkey and quinoa meatloaf.

We love quinoa and wonder of wonders, we actually had some on hand. I looked at the meatloaf recipe and thought it needed editing (it was American, and it called for brown sugar, for heaven’s sakes). But I had the inspiration I needed. And this (more or less) is what I did:

About ¼ cup cooked quinoa

1 lb turkey

1 onion, chopped

1 egg

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Tomato paste (or barbeque sauce, or something of the sort)

Salt and pepper

I got the oven going at 350F/180C. I made the quinoa as the package directs (rinse in a sieve, put in a pan with 2 parts water to 1 part quinoa, cook for about 15 minutes, fluff with a fork), and then mixed everything together. (The recipe suggested you sauté the onions in a pan first, but I didn’t have time.) Into the greased meatloaf pan, into the oven, bang. I also threw in some small potatoes cut in half, spritzed with a bit of olive oil, in a separate container. 40 minutes later, I did some green veggies. 50 minutes later, dinner is on the table. Whew. 

Norman likes to say, “Planning is what you resort to when chance breaks down.” Well, chance stood me in good stead once again.

And no, this is not my photograph of quinoa. I am not that organized. I ripped it off the Internet.

 

We served it with my homemade ketchup (Alex thinks I’m nuts to make my own ketchup, but we’ll never go back to Heinz). This is something I do make in advance, usually when I’m in the kitchen doing something else. So I guess I can do a bit of planning, after all.

In a blender or food processor, combine:

3 small tomatoes (I use Roma tomatoes)
1/3 cup water
2 tablespoons vinegar (plain white or something more interesting)
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or 1/2 teaspoon if you like more spiciness)
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon maple sugar (if you can't get it in the UK, add a bit of extra sweetness in some other form)
1 tablespoon cornstarch

Blend into a puree. Then cook on the stovetop on medium heat until it thickens. This can take 20 to 30 minutes, depending on how liquid it is when it starts and how thick you want it to be.

You can ring the changes on this recipe. I added cranberries for cranberry ketchup at Christmastime or done a terribly French edition with tarragon vinegar and chervil.