Vegetables

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They Did the Cauliflower Mash

You may remember a few years back, as Americans writhed in the merciless clutches of low-carb diets, that many restaurants took to featuring mashed cauliflower instead of mashed potatoes. Ever on the trailing edge of the latest culinary trend, and desperate to use up the remains of some cauliflower that had been sitting forlornly at the bottom of the vegetable bin for days (okay, OKAY WEEKS!! I ADMIT IT!)–as I said, eager to use up my cauliflower, I decided to try mashed cauliflower for myself. (And for Fred, of course.)

There was only one tiny problem with my cauliflower. Mashed cauliflower worked in restaurants because cauliflower, like potatoes, is, of course, white. But, in the same spirit that had prompted us to buy cranberry beans, we had purchased two heads of cauliflower that were, respectively, purple and orange.

I don’t think you need a picture to imagine what came out, and really, I didn’t want to take one. All I can say is that it tasted wonderful, but next time definitely go for the ordinary white cauliflower.

Mashed Cauliflower (makes 4 modest servings)

1 head cauliflower
1 onion, minced
4 large cloves garlic (add more or less to taste)
8 tbps. butter
1/4 cup half and half, milk or cream
Salt to taste

Cut cauliflower into large chunks. Fill bottom of pot with water to about 1/2″. Put cauliflower in pot, salt, and stir. Cover and cook on high heat for about 10 minutes. Continue to cook on medium low heat until cauliflower is very soft.

In the meantime, melt 4 tbsp. butter in skillet. Saute onions on medium heat in butter until soft. Turn heat to low, add garlic, and cook for about 1 minute. Turn heat off.

Drain cauliflower. Add onions and garlic, 2 tbsp. butter, salt, and half the half and half. (I loved typing that!) Cover and let sit until butter melts. Mash with electric mixer until blended. (Best to turn the mixer on low speed for that.) Add more butter and half and half until mix is desired consistency. Salt more as needed.

Feed to your kids and watch them gobble up cauliflower like it was candy.

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Hulga’s Vegetarian Collard Greens

Hulga’s comment on the kabocha squash post, asking for a vegetarian collard green recipe, deserves its own post.

Hulga, here’s what I do.

Vegetarian Collard Greens (makes 4 -6 cups)

Get enough collards to fill an 8 qt. stock pot. Rinse and dry. Remove stems (if desired) and tear or chop into 2 – 3″ pieces.

Ingredients:
2 large onions, chopped
6 – 8 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 c. sesame oil, or 1/8 c. sesame oil and 1/8 c. chili sesame oil
1/2 c. water
Tabasco sauce to taste (omit if using chili sesame oil)
Salt to taste
1/4 c. white or red wine vinegar

In 8 qt. or larger stock pot, saute onions in sesame oil on medium heat until translucent. (If using chili sesame oil, saute in regular sesame oil and add chili oil after onions are cooked.) Add garlic and stir. Add collards and water. Salt well. Cover and cook on medium heat, stirring collards occasionally, until collards are just wilted. Add Tabasco and vinegar. Continue cooking, covered, until collards are soft (or whatever consistency you prefer)–I cook mine at least 3o minutes. Correct seasonings and serve.

As much as I hate to admit it, I like these just as well as their porky counterparts. Enjoy.

As for the kabocha squash: It’s not in season here either. It’s been sitting on my countertop since February.

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But Then There Was the Kabocha Squash

So I didn’t get my turkey fat. But–bonus for your vegetarian kids, Cheryl!–I did make a lovely side dish with kabocha squash, pictured below.

Kabocha hails from Mexico and is probably closest in appearance and taste to acorn squash. Since the beauty of yellow squashes (I don’t think that’s the plural but it’s a lovely word, isn’t it?)–since the beauty of yellow squashes is that they are practically interchangeable, you don’t even need to have kabocha squash for this. Pumpkin, butternut squash, or acorn squash would do nicely.

Yellow Squash and Potatoes (serves 4-6)

2 kabocha or acorn squash, or 1 butternut
2 large baking potatoes
2 large onions, finely chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper
6 tbsp. butter
1/4 – 1/2 c. half and half
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350. Cut squash in half and remove seeds with spoon. Brush with olive oil. Roast, cut side down, for 30 minutes or until very soft.

While squash is in oven, peel and quarter potatoes. Cover with salted water in large pot. Cover and cook on low heat until soft.

While potatoes are cooking, melt 3 tbsp. butter on low heat in small skillet. Increase heat to medium and saute onion in butter until translucent. Turn off heat, add garlic and cayenne pepper, and stir until mix is coated with pepper.

Scoop squash out of shell and place in bowl. (If there are any hard spots remaining, add to potatoes in the last few minutes of cooking.) Drain potatoes. Add squash, onion mix, butter, 1/4 c. half and half, and plenty of salt and pepper. Mix with electric mixer until consistency is that of mashed potatoes. Add more half and half and seasonings if needed.

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Fred Fries

Fred doesn’t really cook, but when it comes to frying he has finely honed instincts that rival that of the greatest chef. Here he is holding the fabulous French fries he made on Saturday.

That’s his grandmother’s Dutch oven to the left, which seems to help in the process.

Here’s what he does:

1. Peel and cut potatoes to desired size and shape. Place in pot of water to rinse off starch. Drain.

2. Heat oil until very hot. Place potatoes in hot oil and cook until just soft but still light in color.

3. Remove fries from oil. Drain. Replace in oil and fry until light brown. Or, as Fred puts it: “You have to observe the surface texture of the fry, ” he says. “You wait until the texture ceases to be smooth and becomes a little granulated. It’s more about the texture than the color.”

Fred’s art also got mentioned in Access Atlanta. And I made stock. The excitement never stops.

There is a young turkey thawing in the refrigerator, along with some butterfly pork chops. Things should pick up next week in the cooking realm.

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One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, BLUE FISH (And Lard)

Despite the cold that FRED GAVE ME no matter what he says to the contrary, I did manage to make some fish yesterday. We bought some blue fish at the farmer’s market–just seconds ago, I learned that they are cannibals, so even vegetarians don’t have to feel guilty about eating them.

Unfortunately I really don’t have a particularly original or interesting way to cook them, but they were good. The filets are small–two per adult are a pretty good serving.

6 blue fish filets (1 lb.)
1/2 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
Hot pepper to taste (I used 1 diced cherry pepper)

Mix lemon juice, garlic, and hot pepper. Salt and pepper filets on both sides. Put filets, skin side down, on jelly roll pan. (I always called this a “cookie sheet” until someone told me a cookie sheet technically did not have sides). Pour lemon juice mix over filets and let sit for 15 minutes. Put oven rack on top shelf. Turn broiler on high. Cook fish for 5-6 minutes or until just cooked through.

I think you can cook any fish this way and life will be good.

Oh–and the lard. You can also put melt two tbsp. of lard in the bottom of a large pot, add about 1/2 cup water, 1 lb. fresh asparagus, and salt and cook on high heat until the asparaus is steamed. Unfortunately this is not vegetarian except that it involves a vegetable.

But a note to my vegetarian friend: Sesame oil and garlic will give you the same smoky feeling as bacon. It’s not a substitute, but I’ve found it to be a satisfying alternative.

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Very Unhealthy Jicama, Chicken, and Baby Spinach Salad

Healthfulness was bursting out all over in the house last night–occasioned by tightening waistbands and a growing number of clothing items that are not quite as comfortable as they once were.

Right now I can’t think of anything more hateful than the concept of healthy, wholesome food. And yet I had to start back on Weight Watchers yesterday–counting points, making sure I get my vegetables and whole grains and lean meats and dairy–BLLLEEEEHHHH!!!!

And now for a brief digression into our country’s schizophrenic food ideology: Potato chips, McDonald’s, Coke, Twinkies–those are “fun,” “tasty,” “good” foods, but the quality is awful. They’re basically fat, salt, and sugar vehicles, covering tasteless, mass produced, plastic objects whose relation to any living thing has been long since severed. Then we have “healthy” foods–equally mass produced and tasteless, but without the fat and salt to cover up their lack of flavor.

It’s hard, sometimes, to realize that food that’s truly good to begin with will be healthy–vegetables that are fresh and seasonal, meat that hasn’t been factory farmed, and so on. You won’t need to put tons of ranch dressing on local tomatoes in August.

Anyway, despite its healthiness, this salad was actually quite good. FWIW I have no idea if jicamas are in season so disregard above remarks on seasonal tomatoes if they’re not:

Jicama, Chicken, and Baby Spinach Salad (serves 2 as a meal, 4 as a side)

Saute in skillet on medium heat in 1 tbsp. olive oil until translucent:
One medium-sized jicama, julienned (or cut like french fries)

Turn heat off. Add and stir:
1 cherry pepper, minced
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
Salt to taste

Rinse and dry spinach, if necessary (if you see any E. coli lurking on the leaves). Dress spinach with 3/4 of the following dressing, mixed briefly in a food processor or blender:
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. salsa
1 – 2 tsp. balsamic vinegar

Add reserved 1/4 of dressing to jicama. Add jicama to salad. Add chopped or shredded chicken as desired. Weight Watcher forced me to leave the chicken off. Fred added grated cheddar cheese to his salad. I hated him for that, just briefly.

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I can cook things besides soup, but not today

Blogging and cooking are hard to do when you have a full-time job. But WHAT is more important in life than cooking and writing?

Here is Tuesday’s meal:

Bacon, Leek, and Potato Soup (this was GREAT)

Cook in stock pot until beginning to brown but not crisp:
8 slices bacon, cut into 1” pieces

Drain some of the fat off the bacon and save for another tasty dish. If I were my grandmother I would keep a jar of it by the stove but since I sit all day instead of hauling hay and building fences, I just put it in the fridge.

Add to bacon and sauté:
3 leeks, mostly white part only, coarsely chopped

Peel 4-6 russet potatoes and cut into 1 – 2” pieces. Add to leeks and bacon.

Add about 1 quart poultry stock (I used pheasant here, but not many people have that lurking in the freezer), potatoes, chopped fresh or crumbled dry sage, salt, pepper, and 2 bay leaves to pot. Cook on medium low to medium heat, covered, until potatoes are tender. Add whole milk or cream until soup is thinned to whatever consistency you prefer. (I’m a broth fan, so I add a cup or so.)

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The Cauliflower Chronicles, Part II

The cauliflower soup is improving with age, but I’m beginning to forget the recipe. Before I forget, here it is:

2 onions, chopped, sauted in goose fat or bacon
2 thick slices ham, chopped
3-4 cloves chopped garlic
2 heads cauliflower, stems removed, cut into large flowerets
2 quarts goose or other poultry stock
Whole milk or half and half
Fresh sage, salt, and pepper
Okra, sliced

Saute onions in fat on medium heat. Add garlic. Add cauliflower and stock. Cover and cook until cauliflower is very soft. While cauliflower is cooking, heat up ham in separate skillet. When cauliflower is done, puree in food processor. Add remaining ingredients and cook until okra is cooked but still somewhat firm (or as soft as you like it).

Pics to follow.

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The Cauliflower Chronicles, Part 1

Despite the, um, burning, the cauliflower soup turned out well. Probably the goose fat leftover from Christmas helped. Here’s how it went down—we will forget the slight scorching incident ever, ever happened.

Here’s Part I of the Cauliflower Soup Chronicle:

That’s the beginning, outside of the cauliflower: goose fat and Prague ham. There’s a QUART of that goose fat, rendered from the goose I cooked over Christmas, five days before my wedding because I wanted to—what? impress my date with my cooking? give myself a nervous breakdown? Anyway, I discovered why goose is no longer as popular as it once was. It’s fabulously delicious, but it cost $65 to feed four people, with nothing except the fat and a couple of quarts of stock to speak of left over. Of course, that fat is reason enough, I suppose, so I shouldn’t complain. And the meat was great. And it took two days to prepare. And it was like one giant turkey thigh and some roast beef rolled into one. And I’ll probably do it again.

Okay, I gotta work on the mailing list for Fred’s art show in March, so I’ll have to finish this saga tomorrow.

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Calabasa!!!

Well, the movie plan was ditched once again, this time because WFW forgot that he had agreed to meet a friend at 9:00 to play trivia at a local pub. So he got his calabasa soup at last.

The soup was both a success and a learning experience. First, the basic recipe, then the gory details.

Calabasa Soup

1 lb. hot Italian sausage (turkey or pork, but beware the turkey–see below)
Olive oil (or could use bacon fat if you’re using turkey) for sauteing
1 large chopped onion
2 cloves minced garlic
1 large calabasa, seeded, basted with olive oil, roasted at 350 for about an hour, then scooped out
Enough chicken or other poultry stock to cover ingredients
Spices (adjust amounts below as needed)
Cumin (1 – 2 tbsp)
Cayenne (1 tsp or more to taste)
Cloves (1/2 tsp)
Salt and pepper to taste
Brown sugar (1 – 2 tbsp, depending on the ripeness of the calabasa)
Red pepper flakes (1 tsp or more to taste)
Cardamon (probably optional–about 1/2 tsp)

Saute onion over medium heat in large stock pot until onion, not stock pot, is translucent. Add garlic. Add sausage and brown. Puree calabasa and chicken stock in food processor or blender. Add to pot. Add spices and cook over medium heat for about 30 minutes. I suspect this would be best served the next day.

That’s what you should do. Now for what I actually did.

The ingredients in all their glory are to the left: the calabasa, prepared two nights ago when poor WFW gave up his movie; the hot Italian turkey sausage, which was neither hot nor really sausage (more on that below); the ubiquitous onion and garlic.

To the right is the turkey sausage beginning to brown. A lot. Note the hamburger/potato smasher to the left, which belonged to my grandmother and which I burned recently by leaving the handle too close to the stove eye.

This is what happens when you try to brown turkey sausage from the Farmer’s Market. Apparently there is NO FAT in turkey sausage. I suspose this is one of those things that should be painfully obvious since turkey sausage is one of those healthy things and because I bought it in an effort to, well, stave off the plumpness that is descending, but STILL.

And to the right is the half-cooked turkey sausage, removed from the pot before it had completely burned and stuck to the bottom. I added the onion and olive oil to the pot and scraped the sausage bits off the bottom to avoid further disaster. There was a moment when I contemplated frying some bacon in the bottom to add more delicious flavor, but it felt like too much trouble. Next time: Pork.

A friend–the first person besides WFW who has been told about this blog–suggested we add a Fred-O-Meter (Fred = WFW) to gauge the effectiveness of a particular cooking effort. It would be based on how many helpings he had. Despite the turkey sausage incident, this was still a 3-bowl success.
The only problem with the Fred-O-Meter is that he likes EVERYTHING I cook. He even liked Sunday’s spice mix, which he said tasted exactly like barbecue potato chip salt.
I felt a surge of triumph. I gave myself a high-five.