You're really gonna eat that?

First, an apology.  I started this blog with the intention of making regular contributions... but I realize I haven't posted for nigh on two months now.  I've got a couple good posts I want to do in the next week or so, but then you likely won't hear from me for most of November, because I've gone off the rails and decided to do Nanowrimo this year in the hopes that it'll kick-start my creative engine... or something.

Stick around, though... this one's pretty interesting.

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As some of you may know, I've been growing a larger-than-previously-attempted three sisters (more info) garden this year.  I grew Boston Marrow squash, Oaxaca Green Dent corn, and two varieties of beans, Cherokee Trail and October.  

I harvested the Boston Marrow (23 of them) about a two weeks ago.  Judging by the catalog description, I expected 10-20 lb fruits... I have to wonder if the bees brought in some hubbard pollen from somewhere, though, as the smallest of them likely tops 20 lbs, while the largest weighs in at just over 45 lbs!

The beans didn't really flourish this year, I suspect because I planted the squash a couple weeks before them (we had a frost on the first of June this year) and the squash shaded them early on.

I've been bringing in my corn over the last week or so as it dries.  And it's the corn, more or less, with which this post is concerned...

As I was doing research a year-and-a-half ago in preparation for this project, one of the little side trails I wound up exploring was about something called huitlacoche (don't you just love wikipedia for that?  You go to look up something normal, like the capital of Wales or whatever, and suddenly you look around and its four hours later and you're reading up on Kevin Bacon's second cousin or something).  Apparently, in the US, it's considered a nuisance, called "corn smut", and farmers work to eradicated it by any means possible, while in Latin America, they treat it as a delicacy.  Apparently, it's also quite nutritious, making a wider variety of nutrients available than the corn can by itself, among other things.  At the time, I simply found the subject mildly interesting in an "I'd-like-to-try-that-someday" way.  I grew up with parents who grew a garden that most often included sweet corn, and so I assumed it was something rare.  Imagine my surprise when I found first one, and then several examples of it on my corn!

I never got around to trying it because I wasn't at all sure how to prepare it.  Some of the things I'd read indicated that the immature galls were preferable because they were more tender and mildly-flavored.  The only samples I seemed to be able to find already had powdery black spores spilling out of them.  So today, when I was picking some of the last few ears in the garden, I ran across a small ear that looked newly infected.  The galls were small and still very fleshy.  As near as I understand it, the fungus can create tumors on any part of the plant, but the ones from an infected ear are preferable, and the fungus infects and takes over the developing kernels.  So, I decided to give it a shot.  My wife wasn't home at the time...

Most of the recipes I found called for half a kilo, but I only had about a cup, maybe a quarter pound, so I figured I'd have to improvise.  The most likely-looking recipe was a simple sauté starting with butter, onion, and garlic.  Here's what I wound up doing:

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Basic Huitlacoche Quesadilla (serves 1)

2 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 c. huitlacoche, roughly chopped

1/2 sm onion, finely chopped (~1/2 c)

2 sm cloves garlic, minced

salt & pepper

1/4 c. shredded cheese, half cheddar, half mozzarella

2 flour tortillas

1.  Heat frying pan/skillet over medium heat, melt butter, add onions and garlic.  Heat until garlic is fragrant, add huitlacoche.  Cook until huitlacoche becomes tender and releases black juices (the pan contents start to look like everything's been doused with used motor oil).  Remove from heat.

2.  Heat a second pan over medium.  Lightly toast a tortilla on one side, remove and place other tortilla in pan.  Spread huitlacoche mixture on toasted side of tortilla.  Sprinkle with cheese.  When second tortilla is lightly toasted, place toasted side down on top of cheese.  Set entire quesadilla in pan and heat until cheese melts, turning so that both sides are lightly toasted and crisp.

I had mixed feelings about the results.  Overall, I'd say it was a moderate improvement on a plain quesadilla.  I like plain quesadillas.  On the other hand, while I quite liked the flavor of the huitlacoche (it was very mild, earthy, slightly sweet and toasty, maybe just a touch like corn, worth every bit of effort to obtain and prepare it), I could barely taste it over the flavors of the onions and garlic.  So next time, either I need a lot more huitlacoche (plus, that lets me make more...) or a lot less onion and garlic.

I'm thinking more like the 1/2 kilo (about a pound) the other recipes suggested, maybe even use some more mature galls to get a stronger flavor, but keep the amounts of onion and garlic the same.  I'd be tempted to fool around with a little oregano or cilantro, but I'd hate to mess with that flavor. Maybe some sour cream or salsa to dip...

So something more like this:

Adjusted Huitlacoche Quesadilla (serves 3-4)

2 Tbsp unsalted butter

3 c. huitlacoche, roughly chopped (~ 1 lb)

1/2 sm onion, finely chopped (~1/2 c)

2 sm cloves garlic, minced

salt & black pepper

2 c. shredded cheese, half cheddar, half mozzarella

6-8 flour tortillas

1. Cook same as above.

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When my wife saw the mess I'd cooked, she pulled a face and said "I am NOT eating corn smut." I'll admit it looks pretty gross, but it tastes good. Part of the problem, too, was that she was thinking it was a mold (which, technically, is a kind of fungus, too), which it isn't (molds are typically in the phyla Zygomycota, Deuteromycota and Ascomycota, while huitlacoche (U. maydis) is in the phylum Basidiomycota.). Not that this in itself means it's harmless. I mean, deathcaps (Amanita phalloides) are in the same phylum. I've heard plenty of cautions about eating wild fungi, so you'd better believe I did my research.

That brings me to the one health-related caution I've found regarding huitlacoche: The sources I've found say that it acts in a way similar to (though milder than) ergot. It's been used by native peoples to induce labor and control post-partum bleeding because it induces uterine contractions. The wiki article mentions the chemical ustilagine, but there's not a related article. I did some searching and couldn't find any information about dosing, so I don't know how high a dose might be risky. As such, pregnant women should just stay clear, obviously. I did find another great article about it on the Cornell University website.

Save that one caveat, it appears to be a fantastic addition to my garden, not to mention surprisingly healthy and tasty, and no nastier conceptually (except to look at) than your average table mushroom; maybe less so, in fact, since huitlacoche grows on corn plants up off the ground, as opposed to on, you know, manure...

Accidental Alfredo

Before I get started: it has been, shall we say, brought to my attention that in my last post I neglected to give due credit to one of the most significant influences on my cooking:  my wife.  Melanie has a BS in Dietetics and a Master's Degree in Nutrition.  She occasionally teaches classes for the local university and is a constant source of great recipes and food science tidbits.  She's also a far better baker than I, and her recent experiments with fondant are something to behold.  Suffice it to say that my work in the kitchen would not be what it is today with out her.  Love you, Honey!

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I once read an article in Saveur about the origins of Alfredo sauce.  *Goes digging*  Ah, here's the pertinent excerpt:

Cream, it turns out, was not a component of the original dish. The recipe was invented at another Alfredo's, a humble Roman restaurant opened by a man named Alfredo di Lelio just after the turn of the 20th century, on the via della Scrofa near the Tiber River. As the story goes, after di Lelio's wife gave birth to their son, she lost her appetite. Di Lelio, determined to get her to eat, transformed his fettuccine al burro—a homely preparation of pasta tossed with butter and parmesan—by increasing significantly the amount of butter he used. The result was a more lavish dish, which neither his wife nor his customers could resist. (The Real Alfredo) 

Now, up until I read that article, all of my efforts at Alfredo had been something of a variation on a basic white sauce with butter, flour, parmesan and some kind of dairy - the Betty Crocker version.  They were pretty much always disappointing.  But the once or twice that I've tried to duplicate the recipe from Saveur, it hasn't gone well.  Gloppy, stringy, greasy, yuck.  I'm thinking now that it was because there wasn't enough heat involved to properly integrate the cheese with the butter, but more on that in a bit.

One of my favorite quick meals is to take a chicken breast, season it, and broil it.  From there, you can do pretty much whatever you want with it.  Salad, wraps, sandwiches, pasta, you name it.  I bet you could even chop it and throw it on top of a vegetable stew or something (sounds worth a try, right?).

So, I didn't really have any lunch plans after church today, but I had thawed a chicken breast so it was ready to go when I got home.  Fine.  Got it marinating, and then had to figure out what to do with it.  I'm thinking pasta.  I get some water going and throw in half a box of linguine.

I get to thinking that seasoned, grilled chicken over just plain pasta is kind of, well, minimalist, no matter how good the chicken is.  So I grab a wedge of parmesan and shred some (using the fine shredder on a box grater), thinking I'll just sprinkle it over the chicken.  But about the time the pasta's done, I get a better idea.  I'll pour any juices from the chicken over the pasta, along with some of the parmesan and a little extra virgin olive oil to give the pasta some flavor of its own.

What's funny is that at this point, I still have absolutely no thought of alfredo in my head.

So at the last second, I decide to take the pasta off a touch early and then throw it back on the heat for a bit to let it soak up my impromptu sauce (something called "marrying" the pasta to the sauce that I picked up from Lynn Rosetto Kasper's fantastic book, The Italian Country Table - even if you never use a single recipe, it's worth it for the insight into Italian culture and cuisine alone).  To do this, you usually have to leave a little of the pasta water in so the pasta doesn't scorch, and also because the starch in the pasta water helps make for a thicker, silkier sauce.

About the time I put it back on the heat and start tossing the parmesan with the pasta, it hits me:  This, what I'm doing here, this is alfredo sauce!  I mean, yeah, I'm using olive oil instead of butter (and not a ton of it at that), and I think there's probably too much pasta water, but basically, I'm making alfredo.  I kept it on the heat, tossed it gently until it was smooth, and then just kept it on a little longer until it was as thick as I wanted.

Once I tasted it, I thought, "This has to be the best alfredo sauce I've ever done, and I did it by accident."

The only thing I regret is that I didn't have a nice white wine chilling to go with it.  I think I would have liked either the Sauvignon Blanc from Nobilo, or Gnarly Head's Pinot Grigio, either of which I think would be really perfect with this.  Both fairly light, with a little bit of citrus, but enough acidity to balance the richness of the sauce.

I think there's a little room for improvement, really.  I could probably have got away with a little more olive oil, and certainly more cheese, in the sauce.  I'd also like to try it using the traditional butter instead of the olive oil, and maybe see how the garlic works with the rest of the flavors.

p.s. - I promise I'll get that sourdough post up soon!

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Accidental Alfredo (with grilled chicken)
Serves 2-3 (doubles easily)
Prep: 30 min
Cook: 25 min


Chicken:

1 tsp      dry oregano
1/2 tsp   rubbed sage
1 tsp      dry thyme
             (Note: these are all herbs I've dried from my own gardens.  I prefer using fresh, but dry tends to work better for marinades)
2-3 tsp  black pepper (I'm guesstimating, here,  ~2 dozen turns on the pepper grinder.)
1 Tbsp  onion powder
3 Tbsp  extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp  red wine vinegar
1           boneless, skinless chicken breast (~1 lb)
sea salt
cooking spray
(I generally use garlic, and I could do a whole other post on the various ways to season broiled chicken breast, but this turned out quite nice sans garlic.  The truth?  I was out of garlic powder...)

1.  In ziploc bag, add all ingredients through vinegar.  Mix well, then add chicken and coat well.  Marinate ~30 minutes.
2.  Spray broiler pan rack with cooking spray (I like to line mine underneath with aluminum foil, since it catches the juices and saves me some trouble washing the bottom of the broiler pan).  Place chicken on rack, and sprinkle with coarsely ground sea salt (any other coarse salt, like kosher, should work as well).  Broil 8-10 minutes per side, until done through.  Sprinkle other side with salt upon turning.
3.  Remove from heat and slice ~1/4 in thick.  Turn off heat.  In 5-10 min, place oven-safe bowls in oven to warm.

Alfredo:
1/2 lb     dry pasta (linguine or fettuccine)
1 c         finely shredded Parmesan
3 Tbsp  extra virgin olive oil (4 Tbsp unsalted butter would probably do just as well)
black pepper to taste

1.  While chicken is cooking, add dry pasta to ~3 qt boiling salted water.  Cook 9 minutes and test for doneness.  Shred cheese.
2.  While the pasta is still firm and there is a tiny white core in the center of the noodle, strain out all but 1/2 to 3/4 c of the pasta water.  Reduce heat to medium and add any juices from broiler pan, 1/2 cup of the cheese, olive oil (or butter), and black pepper.  Stir and toss gently over heat until sauce is smooth and begins to thicken, ~1 min.
3.  Distribute chicken over pasta and sauce in warmed bowls.  Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan and serve.

Welcome!

This is my first post, and I was going to start off with my thoughts on good sourdough starter, since that's been on my mind a lot lately, and I find I can use it in a lot of ways I wouldn't have considered a few months ago, but I think I'd better start off easy... plus, I made a really nice raspberry cobbler tonight and I wanted to talk about that.


When it comes to cuisine, I'll be the first to admit to having no formal training.  I've worked in a few restaurants over the years, and that informs some of my cooking; but my real advances came slowly, and only when I struck out on my own and started experimenting.  That said, I started with a fair grounding in the basics, some of it gained through long practice and trial and error.  I read a lot and I pay attention to anything I can pick up from professional chefs (assuming I can find a way to apply it).  I've had subscriptions to Saveur and Food & Wine in the past, and I love them and still have most of the issues around, but while they gave me a lot of good ideas and showed me some new techniques, I always found that there were simply way more ideas in them than I could possibly use.


Here are a few tenets of my personal cooking philosophy and/or observations about my experience in cooking:


1.  Dry herbs have their value and their uses, but fresh herbs are fantastic.
No two ways about it.  I think I first really got hooked on fresh the first time I tried something with fresh basil in it.  Used right, there's just no way to beat that.  As dry herbs go, Herbes de Provence are awesome.


2.  Better ingredients cost more, but in most cases there really is a difference.
Take cheese.  There is just no way that a formed and pressed block of "low-moisture part-skim mozzarella" can compare to real fresh mozzarella.  
Vanilla, extra virgin olive oil, meat, balsamico and peanut butter are other examples (don't talk to me about JIF... peanut-flavored shortening).
Then again, there comes a point of diminishing returns with anything, and sometimes, it really doesn't make a difference to buy the cheap stuff.  You just have to know your ingredients.


3.  The exception to #2 most often comes when you grow it/make it yourself or buy it at the farmers' market.
Real fresh vegetables, from tomatoes to peas, picked fresh, beat the pants off anything in the grocery store.  This also applies to dairy products, particularly cultured dairy products.  I make my own yogurt and buttermilk - it's a piece of cake once you learn how, and it far surpasses anything I've tasted from a commercial dairy.


4.  Playing with soups, sauces, stews, sauté, even roasting and grilling is fun and kind of easy.
This is the area where I tend to experiment the most.  It's hard - though by no means impossible - to wreck these.  There are basics, and then there are ways to fiddle with the basics.  If you do something really unusual, or even stupid, the results may still be palatable - or at least salvageable - and can be quite interesting.


5.  Playing with baking is hard.
Pasta sauces are to baking as painting is to chemistry.  If you let your imagination run wild with paint and canvas (given a certain minimum of technique), you'll likely come out alright.  Try that in a chemistry lab and you could wind up in sorry shape.  Baking really is all about chemistry - acids reacting with bases, producing just the right amount of gas at a certain temperature for so long, while the proteins, sugars and starches in the ingredients do exactly what you want when you want.  Fool around with baking, and the results can be disastrous.  


6.  Easy on the pepper.
I like spicy food.  My wife likes spicy food more.  But if there is one sin I commit in the kitchen with regularity, it is being too free with the pepper, especially black pepper, to the point where it's even more than I can enjoy.  There should be just enough to taste the fresh-ground flavor of the spice, with only minimal heat, a balance I frequently fail to strike.


7.  Fat selection is no small matter.
Use the wrong fat for a dish and you can completely change the nature of the dish.  Solid fats do different things than liquid ones.  Extra virgin olive oil comes in many forms, and is very different from, say, canola oil.  Learn from my fail:  Don't ever use a shortening blend in baking unless the recipe specifically calls for it.  


8.  Don't overcook your vegetables.
Okay, pet peeve time.  Steamed or sautéed vegetables should be tender-crisp.  Mushy texture can be unpleasant, and some vegetables get bitter or lose their flavor altogether if overcooked.  Pierce easily with a sharp utensil, but not mushy.  When sautéing, for example, cook them hot to give them color and add to the flavor, but they should still be firm when you take them off the heat.  Please, only you can prevent mushy veggies.


9.  As in many other areas, use the right tool for the job.
Trying to use a too-small pan or a wrong-shape spoon can be a real pain or even wreck your dish.  Yes, I own soufflé dishes.  No, I don't have all the sizes I want.


10.  Simple can be fantastic.
Sometimes the best thing you can do with a dish is not to dress it up too much.


I'm sure I'll think of more as I go, but in light of #10, here's that cobbler I was talking about:


Tonight, I made this with a bunch of fresh raspberries that I needed to use up.  I had a little more than the 4 cups called for, but cobbler's not too picky (#5 only applies some of the time, I guess).  Also, raspberries tend not to set up very well, I think because they're so acidic, so I used a little extra cornstarch (the truth?  I read the measurement for sugar and dumped in 1/2 cup of cornstarch... but I managed to get the worst of it out... and the filling was still thinner than I'd prefer).
I most commonly use this recipe with frozen blueberries (use the cinnamon).


Easy Fruit Cobbler


Filling:
1/3 c. sugar (1/2 c. for tart fruit like raspberries)
1 Tbsp cornstarch
1 tsp lemon juice
4 c fruit, fresh or frozen
1 tsp cinnamon (if using peaches)


Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Mix all ingredients in saucepan.  Cook over medium-high heat until thickened and boiling.  Boil 1 minute.  Pour into a 2 qt casserole dish (a 9x13 baking pan should work, too, but the layers will be much thinner).


Crust:
2 c. Bisquick (I use the reduced fat.  Works the same, tastes the same.)
1 c. milk
2-3 Tbsp suger (your preference)


Mix in a bowl once filling is done.  Spoon over filling.  Bake at 400 for 25-30 minutes or until toothpick inserted (just to crust depth) in center comes out clean.