Chanterelles

I have been cooking all sorts of things, but nothing that Mark has been writing about. Hmm.

When my co-blogger was back in the green state a few weeks ago, we were celebrating at our favorite watering hole, when the restaurant's supplier of locally foraged chanterelles walked in with a LARGE container of fresh chanterelles. A bunch of us went gaga, and he managed to supply each of us with two to four pounds of chanterelles at $5 a pound. I got two pounds. It was like a drug deal was going down. People were so excited and when the "dealer" thought he ran out, I was afraid there might be fisticuffs!

I was excited to write my mushroom post, but alas, was too late, and Mark had a post about them too! Dammit. I simply sauteed mine with olive oil and garlic. They were fab. Some I included in a quick quiche that I made the other day. I had some leftover roasted delicata squash which I used too. Here is the rough recipe:

Preheat oven to 400.

In a bowl mix:
1 1/2 previously roasted delecata squash scraped out of the skin.
1 cup chopped spinach
1/2 cup cream
3 eggs
Pinch of cumin

Mix well together, then add sauteed chanterelles that you have roughly chopped, about 1 1/2 - 2 cups. Mix well.

Add salt and pepper.

Pour into a pie shell (I bought a frozen one since I can't make pie crust worth a damn).
Grate parmesan onto the top.

Cook about 30 minutes. Check periodically. Once the top of the quiche has risen a bit and the sides of the crust are nice and brown, it is probably done. If you are not sure, you can stick a knife into the center and peek in, making sure the eggs are cooked.

Eat.

Remember, this is a rough recipe from memory. I just used whatever I had on hand (leftovers rock). Quiche is a great vehicle for leftovers, especially if you don't have quite enough for a whole meal.

I am sorry to note that my co-blogger is unwell. I suspect that it is the smog and grime of LA, and that what she really needs is a dose of rain and a deep breath of the scent of decaying leaves. Then all will be good.

-S

sick

sick i am

last week's couscous almond milk thingy is still the only thing i really want to eat, even if my teeth are all back where they should be.
oh misery, thy name is sinus infection. it makes everything taste the same, and not even the roasted chestnut stir-fry prepared in succulent bittman fashion this wednesday can rouse much interest from this congested, teary eyed mess.

but thanks for giving me hope and inspiration mark - as soon as i am sick no more, i'll be all over your stir fried chestnuts.

wait a second. that didn't sound right.

j

forgive me, for i have genericided.

i am guilty as charged - hoover qualifies for any vacuum, sprite is any lemon soda, and i call couscous everything from the pasta grain itself to the dish with the tangy tomatoey broth, and have even referred to tabouleh as couscous with parsley (although I wonder if that is actually the opposite of genericide).

in any case, let me second S; hurrah for dessert couscous! yum to the nth degree, this is just the thing for a rainy oregon afternoon. or a warm LA evening - especially if you are nursing sore teeth and sporting temporary crowns.

share much? well yes, but it all matters when lauding the qualities of a dish! the day you find yourself unable to chew properly, somewhat uncomfortable yet ravenous, the almond milk cooked coscous will bring you back to life, or something resembling it. let it cook past its usual point so it gets very soft, add more almond milk so it is doesn't get clumpy, omit the apricots (remember the painful fargile teeth) and add some slivers of ginger, or a bit of cinnamon, or add a few canned tangerines (slippery soft yet sweet and cool, providing a nice contrast to the couscous).

no pictures again from me, but trust us, this one is a keeper.

Couscous, velcro, kleenex.

Hmm. Genericide. I wasn't aware of this problem. I mean, yes, I refer to all soft drinks as "Coke" and then get more specific, "Sprite please!". I am grateful for this moment of enlightenment, although I have to say, with the economy tanking, winter around the corner and a presidential election happening in a mere matter of weeks, I don't have any energy left to stand up against genericide. I hope that Mark will forgive me.

Sweet Almond Milk Couscous. I had a little extra time this afternoon, and decided that this would make a great after-school snack for my girls. I served it warm, minus the lemon zest. Huge hit. We all agreed that it would make a great breakfast dish too! Next time however I will add a bit less sugar, and a bit more rosewater.

-S

I am so sorry.

The swordfish recipe last week really threw me for a loop. I mean, I live one measly hour from the great Pacific Ocean, and it is really hard to find decent fish here. Yeah, yeah, I can get all the salmon and halibut I want. Crabs are easy to come by as well. But anything different and I have to go to the giant Asian grocery store an hour away with my cooler and schlep it home that way.

Ok. I will be honest. It is not just the swordfish that caught me off guard. It is life itself! My cooking time has diminished to toasting english muffins for breakfast and making sandwiches for school lunches. We don't even eat dinner! Not true, but my dinners have not been noteworthy.

I resolve to make more of an effort this week. I will not let presidential debates, a poor economy or the rain interfere with my need to cook. Check back soon.

-S

PB&J on the road, without MB

i just got off the freeway, 987 miles south of my beloved pacific northwest. i haven't had time for anything but driving, and haven't see today's video yet.

but this is can say: peanut butter & jelly sandwiches are the best road food ever. you can eat them while driving, they taste good with tepid water, canine companions appreciate them AND, best of all, the longer they're in the car, the better they taste, so that as you get wearier and wearier, and the road gets longer and longer, the sandwiches keep getting better and better.

but beware: this is not an occasion to be too generous with peanut butter or jelly. excess in this regard can be if not fatal, certainly very messy. and you NEED sandwich bread. crusty bread will get soggy, which is what make the sandwich great, but would make a crusty bread revolting.

what can i say, 987 miles in a straight line leaves a lot of time for thinking, and i had a lot of PB&J sandwiches to contemplate.

Is this vaawwdvill???

With S off at some boring conference and me back for a short while, I feel it is my duty to offer a timely, if not pictorially enhanced, post.

The title is, as those of you who have already checked MB's video on NYT.com, entirely inspired in one of the memorable lines of this Wednesday's contribution. The recipe doesn't look half bad either, sort of an East Asian version of my grand-mother's chicken soup, but it screams for lime, or chili, or something acidic, don't you think?

And on that note, here is my grand-mother's chicken soup recipe:

Soupe the poule

1) buy a hen, preferably an old hen. apparently hens have way more flavor. Iwouldn't know how to tell a hen from a chicken or a rooster. Ok, maybe a rooster is obviously different, but once they're headless and featherless - how can you tell? You can tell by the flavor says my grand-mother, deaf to the circularity of her reasoning.
2) put the hen in a large pot, cover in water and add a bouquet garni and salt. Set to boil, then cover, lower the flame and walk away. The hen, being old, also needs to simmer for a verrrrry long time.
3) about an hour before you think this hen is done, add chopped vegetables : leek, celery, carrots, turnips, peas, green beans, whatever you have (forgive me, but this is literally how my grand-mother cooks - she has no recipes, it's all in her head, and she thinks it's silly to do it any other way. In her words, if you know how to cook, you just know. I know this doesn't help you, dear reader, but it's all I got).
4) once that hour has passed, take the hen out of the pot and let it cool, and set the covered pot out on a windowsill (these are the precise instructions) and let it cool, skimming the fat off the top as it congeals.
5) shred the hen
6) the next day, after you have skimmed as much fat as you can off the broth and added the hen back into the pot, reheat, and enjoy. You can add cooked rice (which is how today's MB recipe enters into this) or cooked short pasta (like orzo, fideo, or alphabet noodles).

I don't know if it's the hen or the windowsill, but if there is one thing this grand-mother does well, and does better than anyone else, it's chicken soup. Maybe one day MB can confirm the hen issue.

In the meantime, I hope everyone is enjoying the weather. We are having a prolonged summer in the Pacific Northwest - not exactly chicken soup weather - and how happy am I about that!