Author: cathelou

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In which weight watching again spurs us to new heights

Since last summer’s wine revelation, in which a beautiful piece of trout emerged victorious from its poaching in the world’s worst wine, we’ve continued to make variations on that dish. But our current caloric restrictions posed some new challenges when I went to cook some tilapia we picked up at the Evil Empire (some call it Whole Foods). A recipe with “1/2 stick butter” as its second ingredient would force us to eat celery for the rest of the week, and we had other plans.

But summer vegetables, herbs, and . . . well, chicken stock made from the Rainbow Meadow Farms chicken worked in our favor, and I was able to make a dish that was, truly, just as good as the original. (Really, Rainbow Meadow Farms is not paying me. But if they offered me a free chicken one day, I would not offer any objections.)

We ate the dish so fast that I was able to photograph only this sad leftover piece with its pitiful scraps of the pepper and onion–a symbol of the fleeting pleasures our ephemeral existence provides.

Louise was hopeful that some of those fleeting pleasures would fall across her path, and did her best to encourage mishaps by standing underfoot during much of the cooking process.

Realizing that even her best efforts were doomed to failure, however, she conceded defeat and went to pursue other pleasures by beating up Cleo.

Tilapia with Pepper and Onions (serves 2; 8 – 9 points each)

1 lb. tilapia fillets
2 tsp. olive oil
1 yellow pepper, cut into thin strips 2 – 3″ long
1 large sweet onion, halved, sliced thin
1 medium clove garlic, minced
1/4 – 1/2 cup chicken broth (homemade is best; otherwise use low sodium)
1/2 cup white wine
1/4 cup fresh parsley, minced
3 – 4 tbsp. fresh oregano, minced
Salt and pepper to taste

Generously salt and pepper tilapia fillets. Heat oil in large skillet over medium high heat. Add onions and saute until translucent. Add pepper and saute for 2-3 minutes, adding a little broth if ingredients get too brown. Add garlic and stir. Add enough broth to cover bottom of skillet. Salt to taste. Cover and cook for 10 minutes or so, until vegetables are tender.

Remove lid and lay tilapia over top of vegetables. Add remaining broth, if needed, and wine. Sprinkle herbs on top of fish. Cover and cook for five minutes or until fish is just cooked. Remove lid and put fish on serving plates. Turn heat to high and cook vegetables, uncovered, just a few minutes more, until liquid has somewhat evaporated. Add vegetables to plates. Leave skillet on high heat and reduce remaining liquid until somewhat thickened. Pour over fish and serve.

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Chicken from Heaven

Our wingless friend–the chicken from Rainbow Meadow Farms from last Sunday’s cooking extravaganza–was a testament to the local food movement. It tasted . . . like chicken. Like the hens my grandparents raised, almost as if you’d infused the chicken with a rich broth, or red wine, or even a little tiny hint of bacon. It tasted like real food.

For the purposes of our weight watching, it also offered a revelation. I served it in a variation of an orzo pasta dish from February 2007. That particular recipe included the ingredient “lots and lots of olive oil” and cheese. So when I went to prepare the dish in the weight watching version, I was grumpy. The orzo will be dry, I thought. And tasteless. And who wants to have a life with less olive oil in it?

But when we ate the dish, with only two teaspoons of olive oil and no cheese, we were stunned. Because the chicken actually tasted like something–and, admittedly, had been roasted with the skin on and basted in butter, as I always do–the whole dish was rich and flavorful. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the extra olive oil and cheese would have overpowered the flavor of the chicken.

I’ve long believed that much restaurant cooking in America relies on salt, fat and heavy flavors like bacon and cheese to cover up the poor quality of the ingredients. (You especially notice this if you travel to Italy and come back.) I think that our feathery friend drove this point home.

Orzo with Chicken and Squash (serves 2; 8 points each)

1/4 lb. orzo
2 tsp. olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 – 3 medium crookneck/yellow/summer squash, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup fresh parsley, minced
1/4 cup fresh oregano, minced
1 cup Rainbow Meadow farms or other great chicken, roasted with skin on, skin removed, chopped
1/2 – 1 cup homeade chicken broth

Cook pasta according to package directions. Saute onions in olive oil in large skillet on medium heat until translucent. Add squash and garlic and saute for 5 minutes. Add garlic and stir. Add enough chicken broth to moisten. Cover and cook until vegetables are tender, about 5 – 10 minutes. Add parsley, oregano, and chicken. Uncover and cook for a few minutes more, until chicken is heated through, adding more chicken broth as needed to moisten. Transfer to bowl and stir in with pasta.

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Weighing In

We lost a collective 8.2 pounds in our first week.

Fred, however, received a further blow when he was told that he had to eat five vegetable servings a day. He went out and bought some pickles.

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Cooking Extravaganza (Beef Burritos, Beef and Lentil Salad)

I’ll say this for Weight Watchers: I’ve been spending more time in the kitchen in an effort to create dishes that won’t be awful and that won’t leave us starving. And it’s been . . . oh damn and blast it all, I have to admit it. I’m having fun.

In what is surely the crowning irony of this whole weight loss experience, our fridge is now groaning with food. Most of the new residents are vegetables and herbs–squash, carrots, celery, mushrooms, watermelon, cilantro, parsley, plums, and so on. We’ve always eaten them, but not this much and not as fast. And we need them now like never before–they are our front line of defense against the battallions of cheese and chips that have been invading our waistlines over the years.

The vegetables also helped us use the leftover steak from Fred’s birthday. Leftover steak wasn’t a familiar concept to Fred in the past, but we’re in a crazy new world now.

They key to our leftover steak preparation were these little babies, picked up at Food World (401 E. Lakewood Ave., Durham.)


Unfortunately they were not labeled, and my search of The Chileman’s database did not produce results. They are tiny dried peppers, about 1/2″ long, with a wonderfully rich flavor–slightly smoky, but not like a chipotle, a good bit of depth, and heat in the same range as a jalapeno. (I’ll keep trying to find out what they are!)

On Saturday, we had these steak and vegetable burritos, which were far more beautiful and delicious than my limited photography skills can convey here.


Here is the recipe. I’m guessing each burrito would have 9 points, but they are a complete meal.

Steak and Vegetable Burritos (serves 2)

2 large flour tortillas
4 oz. cooked steak or beef, sliced into 3″ strips about 1/4″ wide
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 large onion, sliced thin
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 – 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 yellow squash, halved lengthwise and sliced thin
1 red pepper, chopped
1/4 – 1/2 cup fresh squeezed lime juice
1 – 2 tbsp. cumin
1/4 cup tomato sauce or crushed tomatoes
6 – 8 of the tiny peppers pictured above, minced, or 1 tsp. crushed red pepper plus 1 minced chipotle (adjust spices to taste)
Salt
1/4 – 1/2 cup crated white cheddar cheese

Saute onions in olive oil over medium heat in large skillet until translucent. Add garlic and stir. Add squash, pepper, cilantro, 1/4 cup lime juice, cumin, and salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add tomato sauce and more lime juice as needed. Add beef and peppers. Cover and cook until vegetables are softened, about 5 more minutes. Remove lid and cook until liquid has evaporated, about 5 more minutes. Turn off heat. Put tortilla shells on top of skillet and let steam for 1 minute. Put tortilla shells on two large plates. Divide beef mix into shells, placing slightly to one side. Sprinkle with cheese, roll up, and serve.

Our second beefy delight came in the form of this lentil salad.


Beef, Lentil, and Cilantro Salad (2 huge meal-size servings, 9 – 10 points each)

2 cups cooked yellow lentils
8 oz. cooked steak or beef, sliced into 3″ strips about 1/4″ wide
1/2 large red onion (about 2 cups), sliced thin
3/4 cup fresh squeezed lemon or lime juice (lime is great if you don’t spill your entire supply all over the floor as someone did this evening)
4 – 5 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 tbsp. olive oil
6 – 8 of the small unnamed peppers pictured above, or 1 tsp. crushed red pepper with 1 minced chipotle pepper

Mix together lemon/lime just, garlic, cilantro, olive oil, and peppers in a small bowl. Add remaining ingredients to large bowl and pour lemon mix over lemon. Let stand about 1 hour before serving.

And, to top things off, I roasted this chicken from Rainbow Meadow Farms. You may notice it lacks a wing, which saved us several dollars off the price. But it had the most spectacular skin I have ever eaten. I believe chicken skin, eaten by itself, has only a point or two, and so that was dessert.


The chicken preparations were of particular interest to Thelma.

At this point, however, she was asked to leave.

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Weight Watching at The Federal

As God is my witness, Weight Watchers will not keep us from The Federal. True, we ate at near-starvation levels all day, and forced ourselves to exercise, but not even the prospect of eating nothing but carrots tomorrow could keep us from our favorite place in Durham tonight.

It still amazes me that a bar with the ambience of The Federal could produce food of such superior quality. The interior reminds me of many burger and beer joints I’ve loved over the years for their friendly staff, cheap drinks, and the standard list of entrees (quesadillas, burgers, and nachos). But The Federal offers so much more.

I went there the first time because I’d heard they were serving pork bellies, which I’d never tried but was eager to eat. Knowing that pork bellies were quite the culinary rage, I expected to find a place with white tablecloths, waitstaff certain of their superiority over me, and a wine list that would require me to use my three years of high school French to pretend I knew what I was ordering just because I could pronounce random names without too much of an East Tennessee accent.

The food at the Federal would certainly not be out of place in that kind of restaurant. Instead, though, you get to sit outside on wooden benches, or inside the bar where people are still allowed to smoke (and how wrong it would be if you could not, across the street from the former Liggett Meyers warehouse), and where the main decorations are ancient Miller clocks (“The Champagne of Beers”) and similar paraphernalia, and where Ben, our favorite bartender, looks like he could take out a whole biker bar but still smiles and asks us how we’ve been when we walk in.

The Federal is certainly not perfect–the pasta with goat cheese and tomatoes has been a bit hit or miss in my experience, and I’ve run across one or two specials that aren’t quite as good as I expected. But I’m still stunned at what that kitchen churns out for the price. (For yesteday’s two entrees, plus two beers, a glass of wine, and tip, the total was $42.)

I think the greatest surprise–this was a few months back–was one special with scallops, ginger, lime, bok choy and hot pepper. The scallops were cooked perfectly, not overdone, and the sauce was complex and rich without overpowering the seafood. Fred’s beloved pork sandwich is spectacular–pulled pork in light smoky sauce with jalapenos and cheese on a thick, crusty baguette. The special I had tonight–mussels steamed in a chipotle chili sauce with lime, onion, and garlic–was even better. And I also love the carnitas, although I don’t order them as often as I should.

If only more places were like The Federal–unpretentious in their service and focused on producing great food–life would be darn near close to perfect.

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Fred Cracks (And a Chicken Liver Recipe)

1. Fred Cracks

The beloved Fred, my Yankee Doodle Dandy, turns 48 today.

We celebrated last night by going to the Durham Bulls game. It was a wonderful night even though we lost. And we even managed to stay within our Weight Watchers goal for the day, mostly because we went for a walk beforehand to make sure we’d have enough points for the beer.

But Fred’s struggles were becoming evident.

“That wasn’t so bad!” I chirped as we went to bed. “You got to have two hot dogs, a cup of popcorn, and two beers for dinner. That’s amazing!”

“I’m hungry,” he sighed. “Do you know that the wings I used to eat for lunch at Twain’s would use up all my points for the day?”

And this morning, he hit bottom.

I had just poured my morning coffee in happy anticipation of drinking it on our screened-in porch on this glorious day off. Fred was sipping a Diet Coke. (Even before Weight Watchers, he drank about 3 -4 Diet Cokes a day, the residue of earlier weight-loss efforts.) Knowing his struggles, and ever eager to be helpful even though he gets to eat the equivalent of nearly three candy bars more than I do every day, I thought I would make a suggestion. Looking at the Diet Coke, I asked, “How are you doing with drinking your water?”

Fred’s face suddenly took on the look of someone who’d just been told his dog had been run over. “They want us to drink water?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “Six glasses a day. Of course, it can be any uncaffeinated beverage.”

Fred turned slowly and then sat down, trying to absorb this latest blow. And then it came out:

“WILL THEY TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME? I’m living on celery and water here! What will they do next–take me to The Federal and make me watch people EAT PORK SANDWICHES AND GARLIC FRIES WHILE THEY’RE SWILLING HENNEPINS? GOOD GOD!”

2. Chicken Livers

Despite our struggles, we are actually beginning to find things to eat that do not involve celery or disgusting low-fat abominations. One surprisingly good resource is the Best of Weight Watchers Magazine cookbook. It’s not filled with hideous dishes that merely sustitute fat-free sour cream for regular, or tofu for beef. Instead, the recipes are what I like to fancy as European. They focus on fresh, seasonal, luxurious ingredients that don’t necessarily require a lot of added fat, or they encourage smaller portions. More on that later, though, once I try some of the recipes.

For now, I want to turn to a happy moment in our early perusal of our Weight Watchers materials. It was the discovery that cooked chicken livers have only 1 point per ounce. This means that a half pound of chicken livers is only 8 points. I was especially glad of this since we had a pound of them from Rainbow Meadow Farms (also the source of our beloved guanciale).

Now, this discovery may not offer much comfort if you’re used to eating a pound of fried chicken livers, as I used to do at least once a week when I was in college. But still, I figured there must be some decent way to saute them with onions, which would add flavor and volume without a lot of extra calories.

So I turned to James Beard’s American Cookery, my go-to volume when it comes to preparing offal of any kind. And there it was–a recipe for Sauteed Chicken Livers.

I confess I was forced to leave out the 4 tablespoons of butter and 4 tablespoons of oil in the original recipe (which adds up to 24 points, in case you’re interested). Instead, I used two painfully small teaspoons of leftover guanciale fat. Surprisingly, this didn’t add much. Guanciale’s mild flavor is wonderful when it’s a featured component of a dish, but it was completely lost in this recipe. So I’ve substituted bacon in the recipe below.

Beard’s recipe also suggests serving the livers over spaghetti with tomato sauce–so to make up for the lack of fat in this version, I added tomato sauce directly to the livers.

This turned out to be a dish we will eat again, even when we’re not quite so points-restricted.

Chicken Livers with Onion and Bacon

(2 servings, 9 points each)

1 lb. chicken livers, cleaned (NOTE: Most recipes tell you to remove the tendons. I am too lazy to do this, but go ahead if you like.)
2 teaspoons bacon fat
About 1/4 c. water
1 large onion, halved and sliced thin
2 large cloves garlic, minced
4 tbsp. tomato paste, mixed with enough water to make a thick sauce
Salt and pepper to taste

Melt bacon fat in water in large skillet over medium heat. Add onions and saute until translucent. Add garlic and stir. Add tomato sauce and heat until just beginning to bubble. Add chicken livers, salt, and pepper, and cook until chicken livers do not “bleed” (about 10 minutes–longer than many recipes suggest, but I like them well-done).

Suggested but untested variations: Instead of using melted bacon fat, chop two slices of bacon into 1″ pieces and fry in the skillet. Drain all but two teaspoons of the fat and saute your onions in that–I think you would be able to leave out the water in this case. This will add 1 point to each serving.

When you’re maintaining your weight again: I think it would be quite safe to use four slices of bacon instead.

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The Fred Starts Weight Watching

I was pleased and a bit surprised yesterday at Fred’s enthusiastic embracing of our new regimen. He bounced in after work with his list of his daily food intake, carefully written down on a napkin filched from Whole Foods.

“I’ve done pretty well, I think!” he said. “I wrote everything down–I probably ate about ten points or so. I had just potato chips for lunch, and then a little bite at Whole Foods after work. But I’ll have to add it up.”

“That’s great, honey!” I seethed, thinking of the 33 points he gets to eat every day as opposed to my 20, because he is a man and the Weight Watchers scientists are clearly misogynists.

He went over to the dining room table and took up the Weight Watchers pamphlets, points calculators, and other paraphernalia.

“Let’s see,” he mused, chewing on the end of his pen. “Two servings of potato chips–that’s 6. How much was the pork? Okay–let’s say 5 for that. And the beef was . . . looks like 4. The blueberry pie–oh.”

Pause.

“Well, I really had just a bite of that, so we’ll just say 3. Sweet tea–that can’t be much.”

Pages shuffle. Another pause.

“There’s no entry for sweet tea. What’s wrong with these people?”

“It’s probably the same as for Coke,” I chimed in, helpfully.

“Oh.”

More shuffling. More pausing.

“Another six points, I guess.” Sigh. “Six points just for tea!”

A few more shufflings, pauses, and sighs later, he looks up, despair clinging like an old cobweb to his face. “I’ve eaten 28 points already!”

I smile. It’s an unkind smile–the type you might see on a spider when she feels the first twitch of a fly, or on a hawk when she spots a little bunny hop across the field.

“That’s okay, honey.” I said. “I’m fixing broccoli for your dinner.”

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In Honor of Weight Watchers, We Present Fish Salad and Roasted Broccoli

Part I: Weight Watching

We’ve given up. We went to Weight Watchers yesterday.

It’s a sad day for the house that loves guanciale, and butter, and pasta, and roasting a chicken just so we can eat the skin. But we really have no choice. I am 7 pounds over what is considered a maximum healthy weight for my height, and Fred–well, he’s a little more than that.

Our mission now will be to create dishes that will keep us within our daily points allowance but won’t completely compromise our food integrity. This means none of the glue-like substances that some marketers try to pass off as food, like fat-free cream cheese and mayonnaise. I don’t think we can take that. But we can certainly eat a heck of a lot more vegetables, and probably much smaller portions of the things we love.

I am also delighted to report that a Bloody Mary is only 3 points, but just 2 if you use only a splash of tomato juice.

Tonight, we cooked the last of the guanciale in a pasta dish. We just ate less of it and more of the broccoli I fixed to go with it. A colleague offered the following preparation for the broccoli, which turned out to be quite good.

Roasted Broccoli

Cut up two heads of broccoli. Toss in 1 1/2 tbsp. olive oil and salt it to within an inch of its life. Roast in a shallow pan at 400 degrees until just beginning to brown, about 10 – 15 minutes.

“It’s just like popcorn,” my co-worker told me, and it’s pretty darn close.

II. And Then There’s the Fish Salad

I have also been meaning to talk about the spectacular fish salad I created last week with some leftover broiled triggerfish. Unfortunately its next iteration will probably have to wait until after the Weight Watchers project is over, or until I have not eaten for several days.

This is a great way to use leftover broiled, poached, or grilled fish. Since you don’t have to re-heat it, you don’t risk the overcooking that usually renders leftover fish dry and nearly inedible.

The recipe would work well with any white fish that you typically cook through rather than serve rare. If you have a leftover piece that is rare (like salmon or tuna), you might want to broil or poach it for a minute or two before making the salad.

Fish Salad (makes about 2 cups)

1 piece cooked fish (about 4 oz.), bones removed if necessary, chopped fine
2 – 3 carrots, peeled and minced
2- 3 stalks celery, minced
1 small sweet onion (Vidalia or other mild variety), minced
1/2 cup peas, cooked until just tender, drained (pour cold water over peas to stop cooking)
1/2 cup mayonnaise, or more to taste
Salt to taste

Mix all ingredients together in bowl. Serve with crackers or with a sandwich. Don’t count the Weight Watchers points.

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Guanciale Renders Cook Speechless with Ecstacy

It’s entirely possible that tonight’s dinner was the best I have ever eaten.

It started with the recipe for Pasta alla Gricia from the January New York Times spread on guanciale that I mentioned in yesterday’s post. Pasta alla Gricia is arguably an ancient dish, made before the Italians had tomatoes (but obviously after they got hold of pasta from the Chinese). It consists of simply guanciale (now my favorite meat), onions, pasta, and cheese.

But I had other issues to consider in preparing this dish. First, I had this squash from our Farmer’s Market expedition over the weekend.

Second, I was too lazy to cook it separately.

So I started by frying the guanciale, for once being a good citizen and following the recipe.

I remained virtuous and added the onions.

And then I stared at the squash for a long time. I could get out another pan, I thought. I could cut up another onion, a little garlic, add some olive oil, saute it all for a side dish. I could for once in my life maintain the purity of the original recipe and not add something else at the last minute just to see how it turned out.

Or, I could just dump that squash right in. As is usual with me, Virtue lost. Undisciplined Possibility triumphed.

Thank God for Undisciplined Possibility.

I felt I showed admirable self-restraint by not licking the bowl.

Pasta alla Gricia with Squash (serves two greedy people)

1/2 lb penne
1 cup water from boiled pasta
1/3 lb guanciale (4 – 6 slices), sliced into 1″ long x 1/4′ wide strips
1 medium sweet onion, halved and sliced thin
4 small summer (crookneck or yellow) squash, cut in half lengthwise and sliced thin
Salt
Fresh ground pepper
2/3 cup aged pecorina cheese, divided in half (or more to taste)

Put water for pasta on to boil. Fry guanciale on medium high heat in large skillet. When guanciale is beginning to brown, add onions and cook until translucent, stirring often. (Do not drain fat.) Reduce heat to medium and add squash; cook until squash is tender, stirring often. Cook pasta in boiling water until al dente. Drain over bowl to catch water. Add pasta to skillet. Add salt to taste and generous amounts of pepper. Add 1/3 cup cheese and 1/2 cup pasta water and cook over medium heat until cheese begins to melt. Add enough additional pasta water to melt cheese and coat pasta, stirring continuously. Serve with remaining cheese.

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Return to Pasta all’Amatriciana, with Guanciale

You may recall that that last year we posted a version of Pasta all’Amatriciana, the celebrated Italian pasta dish that every Southerner should love. It’s basically pasta with tomato sauce and bacon, and given our long love affair with pork, it’s a natural fit for the Southern palate.

Since that post, though, amatriciana has gotten a little more press, including this spread in the New York Times in January. The Times article focused on the necessity of including guanciale, which is cured meat from the cheek of the pig. That’s right–we’re talking hog jowls.*

I knew that I shared a deep, primal kinship with the Italian people, and now I know why. Our shared love of pork fat creates a bond that transcends time and space. It saddens me to think that my grandmother never had the chance to try guanciale. Every New Year’s day she made us hog jowls, black-eyed peas, and greens to ensure that we would be fat, happy, and rich, and I am sure a little guanciale would have helped her cause.

Luckily, time and space have converged to bring guanciale into our home, through Rainbow Meadow Farms. We visited their stand at the Raleigh Farmer’s Market and decided to take some guanciale with us.

Here’s a small portion of the fatty glory that now sits in our fridge.

The portion here represents what we used in the amatriciana I made on Sunday. According to the Times guanciale means “pillow,” and it’s easy to see why. Wouldn’t this make a nice, soft, satiny, porky object to nestle against your own cheek?

As for the recipe itself, I followed the one from the New York Times–actually obeying it for once. Maybe this is because that with the exception of the guanciale it was pretty much the same as my own.

Here’s the link to the Times’ recipe. I suggest only one modification: Cut the guanciale into thin strips–the 1″ strips suggested here were too thick.

*I am well aware that hog jowls and guanciale are not the same thing. I just like to think they’re close enough.