Burgers, Buns, (writers) Block, and a crush on Jamie Oliver

You know those moments when something has been staring you in the face the whole time and you failed to see it?  I’m not sure if I love those moments, or hate them with every fiber of my being.  On the one hand there’s the “eureka!” moment.  On the other hand, there’s a much more sustained “Yeah, DUH!” moment.

The reason I mention these moments of stupidity is that I’ve been agonizing over what to write about next.  So I’ve been sitting here, scrolling through a backlog of photos of random concoctions, half-written posts, and beating my head against the tabletop trying to think what is most suitable, while I wait for my burgers to finish roasting. 

You see where this is going, yeah?

BURGERS!

As per usual I have a backstory.  I love Jamie Oliver.  Is it the accent?  In part.  Is it his enthusiasm?  In part.  Is it the tousled, devil-may-care semi-spiky-floppiness of his hair?  A little bit of that too, yeah. 

It’s so many things.

It’s the way he gets down and dirty with the food he cooks.  Hands smashing ingredients freshly ripped from the soil together, punctuated by random exclamations (“Howzat!” being a personal favourite), and a genuine love for his creations.  He is a completely obsessive purist, and where Nigella Lawson is a food eroticist, Jamie takes his food out for a few dates, behaves like a gentleman, falls completely in love by the second date, and calls it back the next day to see how it feels.

This particular recipe rapidly became high in rotation for several reason.  First and foremost: it’s really good!  Second: it’s very time-liberating.  Smoosh stuff together, chuck em in the oven, and 25 minutes later they’re done.  No running back and forth between the barbeque, or peeking in on a frying pan, cutting through layers of carbon to discover a raw mess inside.  Nope, none of that.  They come out amazing every time!  That 25 minutes leave you free to tidy up, bathe a cat, do your nails, watch a PVRed half hour program (minus commercials, of course), or write a belated blog post.  *ahem*

As is my usual practice, I’ve tweaked the original recipe somewhat.  Feel free to do the same.  Particularly with the spices and seasonings.  I often find I only need one egg, whereas the original recipe calls for two.  Use your judgment.  If the beef mixture just isn’t holding together, add a second egg.  If it looks like it’s floating in a sea of egg, add more breadcrumbs.

Oven-roasted Hamburgers

·      2 ¼ lbs ground beef

·      ½ large red onion, chopped fine

·      1-2 cloves garlic, minced (optional)

·      1-2 large eggs

·      1-2 handfuls breadcrumbs (or Panko, if you buy the Costco-sized bucket loads like I do)

·      generous pinch cumin seeds

·      generous pinch coriander seeds

·      heaped spoonful Dijon mustard

·      few drops Worcestershire

·      salt and pepper (I HIGHLY recommend trying different peppercorns: Pink, Szechuan, Tellicherry.  Each one can completely change the scope of flavour.  Feel free to use regular pepper, too… Philistine)

Preheat oven to 450°

Grind dry spices in mortar and pestle.

Place remaining ingredients in a large bowl, sprinkle spices over, and mix well.  Adding breadcrumbs as required.

Mold into patties, more ball-shaped than pancake.  A flattened ball, if you will.

Place on roasting pan with drip tray for excess fat, and pop into the oven for 25 minutes.  If you want cheeseburgers, place slices or shredded cheese on patties at about the 20 minute mark.

As you can see from the photo at the top, I didn’t have buns on hand, so I used thick slices of homemade bread.  I just thought I’d make that clear in case you thought that I thought that that’s what buns were.

I also have this strange inability to be able to make burgers without this clip getting stuck in my head.

Oh, French Toast! Save me from mine rut!

Happy New Year to all!  Yeah, it’s almost half a month late, but I have another Word document sitting on my desktop which is a letter which is almost 9 months overdue.  Yes, Dear Readers, you got my attention first.

First of all, I apologise for my silence as of late.  I took full advantage of being pandered to over the Christmas and New Years holidays, and as such wasn’t required to do all that much cooking of my own.  A slippery slope.

Plus, with it being my first New Years of having this blog I decided to do a little bit of introspection and revisit a few of the recipes, as well as reevaluating my opinions of them.  I have to say, first impressions truly are the ones to run with.

For example: I’ve remade the BBQ pork buns.  Although delicious, they are definitely tiddly to make, and bloody hell (!!!) that dough can be a bitch to work with!

I also remade the sausage and grape recipe from a couple weeks back to take to the New Years Eve party hosted by our friends.  Yep.  It’s definitely a great party food.  Forget trying to pair it with something and make a meal out of it.  Amidst toothpicks, cheeses and slices of baguette is where those suckers belong.

We did host our annual New Years brunch, but we do it pot luck style, so other than providing a swine herd worth of bacon (which I assigned the hubby to cook), and having “thaw and bake” croissants from a local bakery, I was free to swan around, be social, and ingest coffee to the point of a small series of anxiety attacks.

Beyond the above, it would seem that I’ve rung in the New Year in a less than celebratory fashion: I’m in a damned rut!

I’ve treated myself to a couple new cookbooks, who now rest on my bedside table, waiting for me to splay their spines wide and bask in their gourmet glory.

Yeah, ummm…that hasn’t happened yet.

Somewhere between Christmas and New Years, I did end up making one new thing which perked my little tastebud’s interest.  Savory French toast.  I’d like to be able to claim that it was out of a sense of innovation that this recipe was born, but I’d be lying.  The truth of the matter being that I think I was in such a sugar overload one evening (2 boxes of Ferrero Rochers and a large Toblerone) that the thought of syrup-laden French toast just seemed like a swan-dive into illness.  Also, having depleted resources in the kitchen, but being a huge proponent of breakfast for dinner, this seemed like a good opportunity to branch out.

 Savory French Toast

4 thick slices French bread

2 large eggs

1 ½ Tbsp milk or cream

2 Tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley

1/8 cup grated parmesan (optional)

Salt and pepper

Butter

Sliced tomato

Dijon mustard

Beat the eggs with the milk or cream until just blended. 

Add parsley, salt and pepper, and beat again until distributed evenly throughout

Stir in parmesan cheese (if using).

Place a skillet over medium-high heat.  When water droplets hiss and evaporate, add butter to the pan and melt.

Dip slices of French bread in egg mixture (both sides), and fry in skillet until golden brown.  Flip and brown the other side.

Spread with Dijon mustard, and top with slices of tomato, adjusting salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with other breakfasty things, or salad.

I realize giving instructions for frying French toast may be offensive and condescending to some, but I’ve received some lovely feedback from culinary “newbies” (Hey newbies!) that they’re literally starting from scratch in their kitchen experimentation.  Let’s face it; if you can make a great brunch for friends, then you’ll be hailed as a genius.  Get one or two things in the repertoire, and your reputation will be secured despite other limitations.

As my dear Dad always says “if you can’t dazzle ‘em with brilliance, baffle ‘em with bullshit”

…and thus this blog was born.

All Dressed Up. Nowhere to Go.

This time of year being what it is my email inbox gets flooded with newsletters of various recipes for holiday cooking, baking, decorating, et al.  To the point that I get overwhelemed, and start to rebel against all of it.  I’ll make a few of my tried and true favourites instead, and try to politely sidestep the new “twists” on old classics.  Usually it involves somehow incorporating anise or chipotle into something.

As part of my rebellion, I’m choosing not to post a recipe this week.  I AM overwhelmed by all the holiday recipes, and even though I have a few dishes made, photographed and waiting in the wings for posting, they’re not entirely festive.  Besides, I'm sure you already have your own favourites ready to go, as well as the more volatile, stress-inducing holiday experiments you're about to unleash on friends and family.

I want to somewhat embrace the essence of the season, but without resorting to gingerbread, anise-scented hams, or quirky shortbread variations which might be better suited for skeet shooting.

Our home is devoid of Christmas decorations this year.  Not from any sort of Scroogieness, but if last year can be viewed as an experiment, then it’s safe to say that to decorate again would be plain stupid. 

One of our cats does not deal with change well, and as such proceeds to puke and poop in all places but the litter box.

Another one LOVED the Christmas tree, and proceeded to assimilate it into her already high-energy gymnastics antics.  Bulbs were smashed, the tree itself toppled, and the angel at the top suddenly seemed to have a pleading look on her face like a Jane Doe from Law and Order SVU.

The Christmas cards have found their place strung along the mantel, but there is no garland to accentuate their papery greetings.  Two words: tinsel shit.

The other cat generally adapts, but ends up with her usual sleeping places usurped, and instead finds new territory to spread the shed.  I wore out two lint rollers last year.

I feel bad not having decorations up.  Not that I’m generally one of the most “Spirit of the Season” individuals, with a Santa hat, ugly-battery-powered-flashing reindeer vest, and omnipresent cup of egg nog.  I am however, something of a stickler for tradition(s) and a certain sense of decorum.  I worry this is dying, and I fear my non-participation contributes to its slow death.

One need only glance on the street and see the number of people sporting track pants and yoga gear as day wear to observe the swan-dive into mannerless oblivion taking place all around us.

I can’t help but get a certain twinge of longing when watching certain TV shows (ie: Masterpiece Theatre) where the people would dress up for dinner IN THEIR OWN HOME!

This wasn’t because company was over. 

It wasn’t even necessarily because it was a particularly special occasion. 

It was just because that was what you did. 

It was proper. 

It was an observation of respect.

Is being all dressed up with nowhere to go such a bad thing?

So this year, Dear Reader, in an aim to placate the nagging guilt (which inevitably comes from my mother), I encourage us all to wear the season.  Whether in the form of full proper dress-up, or absurd sweater.  Whether for a quiet dinner with a loved one, a full barrage of family, or reheated frozen lasagne for one. I personally won’t be heading out to buy batteries to power-up some insipid Rudolph hat’s nose, however. 

I wish you all the best over these next few weeks, whatever you choose to celebrate, or even if you don’t.

Oh, and if you DO choose to wear yoga pants while eating dinner in front of the TV, at least be watching Masterpiece Theatre.

Update: A confession of sorts.  I did end up embracing a certain aspect of Christmas tackiness, but in the best way ever.  This was my Christmas Day shirt: 

Jealous?  You know you are.  But you don't need to be.  Check out Tees.ca for tonnes of brilliant and fun shirts for holidays and otherwise!

Grabbing Life by the Grapes (and Sausage)

“Ask and ye shall receive”

Or procrastinate long enough and something close to your initial request is likely to show up.

The latter was clearly the case today.  I was about to put an appeal out to you good people to suggest something different to try for dinner tonight, when I got an email from my cousin on Prince Edward Island recommending this recipe.  Roasted sausages with grapes.

I can already sense the raised eyebrows, and lips puckered in a sneer akin to “is that poo on my lip?!”  There are some meat purists out there who insist that fruit and meat should never cross paths.  They will never know the joy of prosciutto-wrapped cantaloupe, or salami and figs, and most likely, they’ve stopped reading by now because they’re unwilling to try sausage with grapes.

There is a glimmer of hope, though.  An enticement, if you will.  Now, my cousin is married to a lovely fellow who is a born and raised potato farmer, and is about as meat-and-potatoes of an individual as you could ever hope to meet. The fact that this recipe survived the trial, and his spud-insistent palate is all the proof I require to allow this meal through to the next round.

Congratulations, Sausage with Grapes, you’re still in the running towards becoming my Next Experimental Dinner.

Now, I feel the need to disclose that although I served it as a main dish, I think it’s probably better suited to being a party food.  Served on a plate, hot and sizzling, with toothpicks to harpoon the sausages and grapes with, and maybe some sort of gorgeous bread alongside for mopping up the juices. 

5 Italian sausages

2 cups seedless grapes (stems removed… obviously)

2-3 Tbsp butter or oil

4-6 Tbsp red wine

¼ - ½ tsp hot paprika or cayenne (optional)

1 tsp dried savory or oregano (optional)

3 Tbsp balsamic vinegar

Preheat oven to 450°

Start by pre-boiling the sausages for about 6 or 7 minutes, piercing the skins to let some of the fat out.

Heat oil (med-high heat) in a large roasting pan or Dutch oven on the stovetop.  Add the grapes and stir until coated with the oil.  Add red wine, paprika and savory, stirring until the liquid is reduced by half.

Remove sausages from water, and cut into rounds of equal length to the diameter of the sausage (*note: you could just leave them whole, but I like to increase the surface area to be browned up in the oven). 

Add sausage to grapes and mix thoroughly.  You may add a bit more red wine at this point if you want.

Pop into oven, and roast for about 25 minutes, stirring on occasion for even browning of the sausage.

Place roasting pan back on to stovetop, and (over med-high heat) add balsamic vinegar.  Stir until vinegar reduces slightly and juices thicken into a syrup.

Pour onto a platter and serve.

As I mentioned up top, I'm uncertain what to pair this with to serve it as a main course.  I'm totally open to suggestions, though.  This dish was too good to be relegated to the land of novelty, but just far enough off the beaten path to confuse me.  Ideas, anyone?

As always, feel free to like me on Facebook, too!

Give Me Banana Bread or Give Me Death

...although I'd prefer the bread.

In fact, I've chosen banana bread over death in the past.

Apparently the best banana bread to be had is available from Julia's Best Banana Bread on Maui in a tiny village off one of the most perilous and nerve-wracking stretches of road anywhere in the world.  We got surprisingly close to the village once, but the final stretch of road before getting there raised enough red flags to get us to turn back.  A narrow, one-lane road, with blind hair-pin turns along the edge of a cliff with a sheer drop-off on one side, and a soaring rock wall on the other.  The VW at the bottom of the cliff sitting as an explicit testament to the potential severity of the situation.  Since we were in a rental car we figured it may be most prudent to actually be able to return the vehicle.

Still Julia's beckons.  One day, little bread, one day...

In the meanwhile, in my quest to get as close to the best loaf possible without risking life or violation of an automobile rental contract, I stumbled across this blog.  The recipe seemed simple enough, boasts as being "the best banana bread ever" (Hear that?  EVER!!!), so I gave it a whirl.

I don't doubt the superiority of Julia's bread, but until I have tangible proof, I have to say this stuff is currently sitting in first place.

Still curious?  I direct you now to the Foodess for what I'm titling "Possibly the best banana bread ever but then again I've valued my life over adventure in the past and haven't tried Julia's yet".  You may amend the title as you see fit.

www.foodess.com/2010/09/the-best-banana-bread-ever/

Bisque Rip-Off

Going out to restaurants is something of a double edged sword.  One side of the blade indicates I don’t have to cook (YAY!), and the other allows me a way of peeking into what other people are doing in the kitchen.  Perfect fodder for shamelessly stealing inspiring new recipes.

Also, it can sometimes be the most unlikely item which ends up making the most pointed impression. (See post on mashed potatoes)

For example, while recently on vacation on Maui, the hubby and I went to Mama’s Fish House.  For those unfamiliar with the genius of this place, let me say a) it’s pricey, and b) it’s totally worth it!  (Gin lovers take note: Their Pau Hana cocktail has become one of my needful things)

Anyways, they often serve a small amuse bouche.  Usually a shotglass of a soup not found on the menu.  When we visited them it was a fish stock-based corn bisque.

*Digression:  how much do I love the French?  “Amuse bouche”?! “Bisque”?!  Damn!  They know how to market an otherwise uninteresting something to full effect!  Technically, an amuse bouche is little more than a trial sample, and a bisque is soup blitzed beyond recognition in a blender.  Somehow saying “Would you like a sample of blendered corn soup?” doesn’t incite the same “je ne sais quoi”.  And there they go again…

Digression over, and now back to the task at hand. 

So yes, one of the stars of the experience was the bisque.  Amidst a cornucopia of macadamia-crusted albacores, passionfruit-sauced cephalopods, and coconut-rolled crustaceans it was blender soup which stole the limelight.

Corn Bisque

·      1 carrot, diced

·      1 leek, pale green & white bit only.  Cut into rings and soak to remove dirt. Drain.

·      1 stalk celery, diced

·      3 ears corn, kernels sliced off cob.  Or about 3-4 cups frozen corn

·      4 cups fish stock (I totally went with a store-bought frozen version)

·      1 small sprig fresh rosemary.  Only have dried?  Don’t bother.

·      3-4 tablespoons olive oil or butter

·      Salt & pepper

Heat oil or butter in a heavy pot over medium-high heat.  When melted, toss in first three veggies and a pinch of salt.  Stir to coat thoroughly, and sauté for about 4 or 5 minutes.

Add corn and rosemary, and sauté for an additional 3 minutes or so.  Don’t worry if the veggies are still firm.  Next we cook the crap out of them with the stock.

Add stock and cook the crap out of the veggies.  By which I mean bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, and cook at a simmer for about half an hour.

Remove any woody stalks from the rosemary, and puree the soup in a blender (in small batches if needed) until smooth and creamy.  

Return soup to pot and heat through. 

Adjust salt and pepper to taste, and serve.

As you can see in the picture up top I garnished with a sprinkle of paprika and a sprig of parsley.  To be honest I only did it for the sake of this pic.  I then poured it out of the fancy bowl, and back into the un-fancy small cauldrons which hold substantially more slop.

Unlike many of my other attempts at recreating other recipes, this one was surprisingly close to the original, or at least made a strong enough good impression to not simply be a pale reminder of the original.  As I’ve said before, if you have a good stock, then it’s hard to screw up a soup.  Consider that a challenge if you like.

Cauliflower Fritters

It finally happened.  

I found a way to cook cauliflower that doesn’t involve drowning it in sauce.  My usual approach would be a cheese sauce, or even a curry.  It’s not that I don’t like cauliflower, but to be honest, it bores the living hell out of me.  It’s like broccoli called and told you his albino cousin was coming over, then the cousin shows up and has no pop-culture knowledge, and proceeds to sit in the other room, make it smell like farts, and watches reruns of ‘This Old House’.

My friend Dan was talking about these the other day.  The recipe itself comes from Malta, and more specifically Dan got it from the lovely Liz on Youtube, who puts aside the BS and pomp for the sake of making REAL food, REAL good.  The proper name of it is something along the lines of frituli ta pastard, but I can’t seem to find anything online to allow me to confirm or deny that.  Unfortunately I was unable to come up with a suitable Shakespearean pun a la “hoisted with his own pastard” by the time of posting.  But I know, dear reader, that you’ll see that the thought was there, and hopefully come to a puntastic ending of your own accord.

Oh, and parents take note: This just may be the way to get cauliflower down your kid’s throat without wooden wedges and a catapult.  Umm… you’re welcome.

There’s definitely room for add-ins in this recipe.  Bacon, potato, spinach, etc.   I suspect a handful of sharp cheddar would be pretty brilliant, as well.  Of course, I heard bacon and decided “I’m making THAT!”

Makes 5-6 patties

1 head cauliflower, florets cut off

1 large clove garlic, minced

3-4 Tbsp fresh parsley

6 strips bacon, cut into bits (optional)

1 egg

Semolina or cornmeal (NOT flour)

Salt & Pepper

Olive oil for frying

Bring a pot of water to a boil.  Add the cauliflower florets and cook until tender.  Drain, and set aside to cool.

Meanwhile, cook bacon, drain excess fat on paper towels, and set aside.

When the cauliflower is cool, mash thoroughly with a potato masher.  Note: a potato ricer is damned near useless.  Yes, I tried.  It squeezed water out quite nicely, but didn’t actually “mash” per se.  You aren’t going to achieve the same smoothness as mashed potato, so just mash until the pieces are small, crumbly and of uniform size.

Using a sieve, press as much of the liquid out of the mashed cauliflower as you can.  Alternatively, you could squeeze it out handful by handful, discarding the liquid as you go.  Don’t worry too much about pressing every last drop out.

Add in egg, parsley, garlic, bacon, salt & pepper to taste, and mix well.

Form handfuls of the mix into small patties and dust with the semolina.  In the video Liz explains how this is the key to a proper, crispy crust.

Heat a small amount of oil (1-2tsp) in a skillet over med-high heat, and fry patties until golden, flip em, and fry again.

One of the great things about these bronzed beauties is they don’t require a sauce or condiment.  I have it on good authority that they work well as a cold snack, too, but I can’t imagine they’ll ever be hanging out long enough in my house to find that out.

Minus the bacon, these have the potential to be a great, low-fat, and tasty side dish or appetizer. 

My qualms with the cauliflower as a somewhat somnolent ingredient have been put aside.  We’ve found something new in common.

Which just goes to show: if a relationship isn’t working, you CAN change the other party, and your bliss shall be complete.