What's Cooking?

Los Angeles, California


Someone, who shall remain nameless, has requested a recipe. And, if anyone else out there has wondered why the recipes have disapparated, I will explain. They took a break, or rather, I did. I haven't taken a break from cooking. Au contraire. But laying out recipes on my posts is a time-consuming task, as I explained once before in a previous post -- one of the 60-odd or so, which are all available here for free (an old and oft-repeated joke which I adapted after cribbing it from the wonderful footnotes in Lisa Lutz' Spellman family series, which you all must read. See more here). If I were better at my layout and design, I would probably have a template for the recipes, but I'm not and I don't and so there you have it. And if you're expecting an apology for that last recipe for popcorn, you can just forget about that.


Popcorn recipe notwithstanding, food is an important part of my life and blog. And so. And so, I reluctantly drag myself back to meeting the challenge of placing recipes in my posts. Don't get me wrong. I love to share recipes. That's not the problem, but rather it is one of indentations and wrapping. But why should I burden you? Instead, let's extol the virtues of . . . cauliflower.


My friend, Christopher, who prepared the most amazing fontina risotto for ten (or twelve or so, since I got the leftovers) on New Year's Eve when we were all in Carmel, forwarded a recipe for broccoli and shrimp, which originally came from the New York Times. He had adapted it for cauliflower and confessed he sometimes nixed the shrimp. I further adapted it, due to a shortage of coriander seeds the first time I made it. And so, here is the recipe as I prepared it, with notes regarding the original recipe. And I'm off, into the world of formatting . . .


Roasted Cauliflower (Broccoli) With Shrimp (or not)


2 pounds cauliflower, cut into bite-sized florets (or broccoli!)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon olive oil*
1 teaspoon whole fennel seed (or whole coriander seed)
1 teaspoon whole cumin seed
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon whole pink peppercorns (or 1/8 teaspoon red chile flakes)
1 pound large shrimp, shelled and deveined
1 teaspoon (mas o menos) lemon zest (from 1 large lemon)
Lemon wedges, for serving


Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large bowl, toss cauliflower with extra virgin olive oil, fennel, cumin, salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. In a separate bowl, combine shrimp, lemon olive oil, remaining 1/2 teaspoon pepper, pink peppercorns, and lemon zest.


Spread cauliflower in a single layer on a baking sheet. Roast for ten minutes. Add shrimp to baking sheet and toss with cauliflower. Roast, tossing once halfway through, until shrimp are just opaque and cauliflower is tender, about ten minutes more. Serve with lemon wedges, or squeeze lemon juice all over shrimp and cauliflower just before serving.


4 servings.


*I kinda have this thing for lemon olive oil. I've tried a few brands. I used to buy O brand, but last year did a taste test with Lucini and decided I liked the later better. It had a clearer lemon oil flavor and was less bitter. I still rely on O brand's sherry vinegar and champagne vinegar.


Christopher reported being obsessed with this recipe, and I can fully understand that. I have made variations of it with fennel - a bulb or two, sliced up, and a quite nice rendition with brussels sprouts. I think it may very well become a reliable standard in our kitchen. More often than not I make it without the shrimp. But a bag of frozen uncooked shrimp from Trader Joe's is a fast way to add protein to the dish when you need that. I did restock the coriander seeds and use them about half of the time. I have celery seed on order from Morton & Bassett and expect to try that in the near future.


So, there you have it. Roasted vegetables for a winter's day, enabling us all to feel quite smug and healthy. And there's nothing wrong with that -- at least nothing that a martini and a hot fudge sundae can't fix. Le sigh . . . (and thank you for reading, and maybe even cooking with, my blog.)

Octoberfest?

Los Angeles, California


Life ain't been easy. There has been no salsa dancing in my life for several weeks. Cooking has been a last-minute affair at best. And, well, you can see how writing is going. This is my first blog post this month. So much for the big three (if you don't know what I'm talking about you can find out by reading previous posts, available here, for free!).


For those of you following along (and, for the love of heaven, why would you be?), life at Casa Healy is currently about caring for my mother, who has just been discharged from a skilled nursing facility after seven weeks, and trying to put our rental property right, after a deranged tenant (ok, I exaggerate, he was only a degenerate slob) destroyed it. Frankly, one could say there is very little life at Casa Healy.


But, in spite of all of this, I had to, HAD TO, get in at least one post in this month of October. It is, after all, my very favorite month. And, my birthday month. But what to write about? A recipe is due, but forget about it. You won't find that here, not now. Interesting anecdotes? Not so many. What to write about . . . what to write about?


And then. And then I went to Trader Joe's. Now, I had just been to Trader Joe's, say, maybe last week. But, they had thrown the Fearless Flyer into one of my shopping bags, and I read it, cover-to-cover, when I got home. I realized I'd missed a couple of things: like Halloween Joe-Joe's (knock-off Oreos shaped like Jack O'Lanterns with orange-colored filling); frozen Vietnamese Pho (I know, I know, we're not about frozen food, except right now we are). And Mango-Chile Popsicles, a new addiction of Billy's. And Buttermilk Biscuits in a tube (seriously, have I no shame for revealing this?). And Crispy Spicy Chicken Wings. I resisted the frozen onion rings, which really are pretty good. But was unable to resist my own renewed addiction to Red Tail Ale.


I couldn't fit the Red Tail Ale six-pack into the shopping cart (I also had flowers and a potted rose for my mom taking up a lot of room), so I was carrying it in one hand, while trying to maneuver my cart, backwards, down a narrow aisle in the wine section of the store. Did I mention the aisle was narrow? I ran my cart, a mere glancing blow, into a display of Oktoberfest Authentic Bavarian Festival Lager. Big bottles. Stacked high. Top-heavy. Am I making my point? They started to sway, then they started to pitch over. I only had one hand free (Red Tail Ale) which didn't help in rectifying a swaying city of beer. In retrospect, I thought it was kinda like bowling pins. Except they weren't on the floor. Yet. Crash and splash. Yes, I broke at least two of them, in a loud explosion of beer. But you know Trader Joe's. Someone was right there, no problem, happens all the time, don't worry about it. I was mortified. I apologized over and over (still holding my six-pack of Red). Then I scurried away like that rat in the Harry Potter books.


In the checkout line, the checker inquired whether I had found everything I was looking for. I responded that yes I had and I had also knocked over a display of beer and was so sorry for that . . . etc. (there's no stopping me). The bagger and the checker assured me that this was no problem, happens all the time, don't worry about it. Jeez. They're so nice, it's like they welcome you to go and have another whack at it. Feel free. I paid for my stuff, slunk out of the store  and wheeled it all out to my car.


Then, as I was loading three bags of Trader Joe's good stuff into my trunk, I noticed something that I hadn't recalled putting into my cart. Yep. It was a bottle of Oktoberfest Lager. Evidently, in addition to the ones that toppled over, and the ones that broke on the floor, one bottle had made a run for it . . . right into my cart. Nice, soft flowers had cushioned it's fall. So, there by the trunk of my car, I had an LOL moment, which is rare and welcomed these days. 


When I unloaded the bags at home, I smiled at the hitchhiking bottle before I stowed it in the fridge. Lager happens, I thought. Or, more accurately, into each life a little lager must fall. Not bad for a cosmic message. So, to all of you, celebrate October, have a Happy Halloween and thank you for reading my blog. Back on track in November, so help me!

Control of the Pies

Los Angeles, California

It's beginning to look a lot like . . . Thanksgiving. Seriously, it is plain damn hard to transition from Kona (weather, clothing & all things tropical) to a cold snap with rain in SoCal. But transition we must, as the holidays are just around the corner.

Recent changes have left us at loose ends for the holidays. Since we moved my mother into her retirement community, which is nearby, the traditions we used to hold have unraveled. We have always celebrated Easter, and Christmas Day at our home. Christmas Eve was at my parents' home until the last five years or so, when it began to be daunting for my mom to manage. So, we began hosting it at our home. We used to go to my sister's, about forty-five minutes south of us, for Thanksgiving.  But my mom's situation necessitates a celebration nearer to her home. And that means our house. This year, however, we are celebrating a day early.

Billy's mom, Shirls, will be coming for a visit. Shirls unwittingly made the mistake of moving to Arizona a few years back, and subsequently realizing it was a mistake. She wants to move back, and we fervently hope she will, but in the meantime, she is flying in to spend Thanksgiving week here in the southland. She is spending Thanksgiving day elsewhere, but is available on Wednesday, so she will be joining us along with my mom, for a Pre-Thanksgiving Dinner on Wednesday night.

I don't mind having PTD (see above) at our home, except that we are now such a small group at the table. My family has dwindled, and Billy's is scattered. I would so love to spend the holiday with friends and fristers, but everyone's plans are in place -- have been in place for decades. So this year, we are pleased to make our merriment at our home, with the moms.

And now, a word about the food. Truth be told, for me there is a secondary gain about hosting Thanksgiving (or PTD, in this case), and that is about being in control of the pies. For many years, as Thanksgiving approached and friends and acquaintances began to talk about their plans, I would immediately ask them what kind of pies they were going to have. Pies are important at Thanksgiving. They loom large in the legend.

In the past, at my sister’s home, we were served pumpkin pie. She also baked little individual mince tarts, which she served with a Grand Marnier sabayon. My sister's pumpkin pie is delicious -- though I’m not much of a pumpkin-custard kind of person. I usually had a small piece, plus a half of a mince tart. And, don't get me wrong, that was lovely. But I fantasized about being in control of the pies. I think that is what hosting Thanksgiving is all about, and is perhaps the only reason anyone ever even considers hosting it. It's about being in control of the pies. In fact, my belief is that this is what Thanksgiving is all about, en toto: pies, and who gets to choose the variety that shows up at your table (and if it's your table, you should be the chooser, not to belabor this point, but really . . .).

One of the early times when I prepared Thanksgiving dinner, way back in my early twenties, I made Shoo-fly Pie. Well, forgive me, I was just out of college and you know what a pretentious culinary period that is in one's life. So don't expect that recipe. These days, if I were preparing a feast for many which entitled me to this dominion over dessert, I would decree: Pecan pie, and French Apple (the pie with the crumb topping). Oh yes! But frankly, while Billy is on board with the French Apple, he just doesn't get the pecan pie thing. He finds it cloyingly sweet. I do too. But in a good way.
 
Still, even with complete and unchallenged control, a little restraint is in order. With the small group that is gathering, I will bake only one pie. And, let's face it, people want pumpkin. I don't know why they do, but they do. So here is my compromise:
 
Pumpkin-Pecan Pie


For Pie Shell
Pastry Dough for nine-inch single crust pie


For Pumpkin Filling
3/4 cup canned pumpkin
2      tablespoons packed brown sugar
1      large egg, lightly beaten
2      tablespoons sour cream
1/8  teaspoon cinnamon
1/8  teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg


For Pecan Layer
3/4 cup light corn syrup
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
3      large eggs, lightly beaten
3      tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2      teaspoons vanilla
1/4  teaspoon finely grated fresh lemon zest
1/2  tablespoon (1 1/2 teaspoons) fresh lemon juice
1/4  teaspoon salt
1 1/3 cup pecans (5 1/2 oz), chopped, if desired


Make pie shell:
Roll out dough on a lightly floured surface with a lightly-floured rolling pin into a 13-inch round (1/8 inch thick), then fit into a 9-inch glass or metal pie plate. Trim edge, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang, then fold overhang under and crimp edge decoratively. Prick bottom and side of shell all over with a fork, then chill shell 30 minutes.


While shell chills, put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 375 F.


Line shell with foil and fill with pie weights (dried beans, rice, or what have you), then bake until pastry is set and pale golden on rim, about fifteen minutes. Carefully remove foil and weights and bake shell until pale golden all over, about five minutes more. Cool on a rack.


Make pumpkin filling:
Whisk together pumpkin, brown sugar, egg, sour cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, and a pinch of salt in a bowl until smooth.


Make pecan layer:
Stir together corn syrup, brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla, zest, lemon juice, and salt in a bowl, then stir in pecans.


Assemble and bake pie:
Spread pumpkin mixture evenly in shell, then carefully spoon pecan mixture over it. Bake pie until crust is golden and filling is puffed, about thirty minutes. (Center will still be slightly wobbly; filling will set as it cools.) Cool completely on rack. Serve at room temperature.


Cooks' note:
Pie can be baked four hours ahead and kept, uncovered, at cool room temperature. If you bake it a day ahead, loosely cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. Reheat in a preheated 350F oven until crust is crisp, about fifteen minutes.


Makes eight to ten servings

Alright, I have not provided you with a pastry dough recipe. I figure if you are baking pies for the holiday, you probably have your own recipe. If not, the cookbook woods are full of them, or you can search Epicurious here. My pastry dough combines butter with a bit of shortening and utilizes ice water. But that's not integral. Pastry doughs are treasured discoveries or else they've been passed down through the generations within families. I'm not even going to admonish you against using prepared pie shells which are readily available (just spotted them at Trader Joe's), though that's not the route I go, even though I'm not a great pie baker. I consider myself a much better cook than baker. But I can step up when it is required. I can even do those leaves for decoration. Surprised you, didn't I?


And one last thing. Remember the post about chocolate? Well, pumpkin filling is ideal for creating soggy crusts. If you want to brush some melted white chocolate over the baked shell, letting it set up before you pour in the fillings, this would be the time to do so. Just don't tell my sister.


Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful to you all for reading my blog.