Category Archives: Cooking

Cuban Chicken Pizzas

In keeping with the pizza theme, here’s a tasty little dish I happened to pick up from Cooking Light (uh… it must have been the wife’s copy).

Again, I call into question the cultural attribution; nothing in this dish screams Cuban to me. Latin America, definitely. But what’s especially Cuban about tortillas, cilantro and cumin? Maybe if pork were involved, I’d give it to them. But I digress.

It’s a fairly simple process, especially if you have the chicken already cooked. I didn’t (naturally), but a quick shot on the Foreman grill worked out fairly well, especially after cooking it through with the corn, bean and garlic mixture. You really can’t go wrong with this combo of flavors.

As you can see in the above picture, I maybe overcooked the tortillas a bit before topping them, but my experiment with some non-pre-toasted tortillas (all the way to the left) didn’t work out so well either. I guess the moral is pre-toast your tortillas, but don’t over-toast them.

Moderation, my friends: it’s the key to cooking.

At right is a picture of the finished “pizzas,” topped with fresh cilantro. I added a couple of tomatoes (for color and balance), but they made the things even more impossible to eat. I found myself wondering why I didn’t just top each one with another tortilla and cut them up quesadilla-style.

On a slightly unrelated note, I didn’t know that was cumin! All those years eating Mexican and Latin-style food with that exotic, distinctive flavor and I never thought to ask what it was.

Having served its purpose, I shall now banish cumin to the back of my cupboard to rot away with the rest of my menagerie of “one-dish” spices.

Don’t be scared, cumin. Paprika will show you around.

Mmmmm, cheesy

Pop quiz! This is what happens to a pizza when:

A. I use the whole mozzarella ball

B. I happen to have extra ricotta laying around

C. Nobody stops me

I think you know the answer.

What’s the deal with my rice cooker?

Speaking of cooking problems, my new rice cooker is cooking up some of the crappiest rice I’ve had in a long time. I mean, the whole premise behind even getting a rice cooker was to make some of that delectable sticky rice that routinely emerges from the machines of my friends and TV personalities.

Well, guess what? I’ve now used this thing six times and I have yet to see even two grains of rice stick together. It has had the complete opposite effect that I was anticipating: the machine rice is dry, undercooked and each grain slides away from the other like they were magnetized metal shavings.

Again, I ask: what am I doing wrong here?

I’ve tried adding more and more water each time, but I only see incremental improvements. Could the problem simply be that I’m using the wrong kind of rice? Does Uncle Ben make his long-grain rice impervious to the effects of automatic rice cooking?

Maybe I’ve deluded myself into thinking a rice cooker (that someone shelled out good money for at my wedding) should be able to take any kind of rice and transform it into something light, fluffy and moist.

But I guess cooking perfect rice is just a little too much to ask of a rice cooker.

Me vs. Tuna Steak – Round 4

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Why can’t I cook tuna steaks?

What is it about those seemingly succulent red wedges that brings out the worst in my culinary skills? Granted, my culinary skills are meager to begin with, but I’ve already mastered salmon. How much harder can tuna be?

After my latest adventure, I now consider the perfectly cooked tuna steak my white whale. I just can’t stop pursuing a better recipe or method. This time, I tried to adapt a salmon recipe for tuna and I can’t say it worked out so well.

I won’t go into the details, but please, for the love of cooking, can someone help me get this fish right?

Seared Salmon with New Potatoes and Dijon Broth

This is the first new recipe I’ve attempted in a while, and I was surprised by how tasty it turned out. You can see the Bon Appetit original in step-by-step format here.

I don’t want to rehash the whole thing, but I have some pictures of the cooking process, so let’s get to it. In the salmon searing stage, I made two lazy-man changes:

  1. I used vegetable oil instead of canola oil. I just don’t keep canola oil around and I can’t imagine it makes that much of a difference.
  2. I didn’t take the skin off the fish. Too much effort.

While the fish was frying, I started the potatoes. I don’t think I’ve cooked potatoes more than once or twice in my whole life – I’m a pasta man – and I was actually a little nervous that something would go wrong. Luckily, the potatoes didn’t explode and the kitchen was saved. (Thanks for asking.)

After throwing the fish and taters into a baking dish, I turned my attention to the broth. I made another substitution here – onions for shallots – that probably detracted from the dish. But I didn’t have shallots in the house, so onions were an easy sub. Are you sensing a pattern here?

Anyway, the rest of it went according to plan.

Into the oven everything went…

And 20 minutes later, it was just a matter of placing and ladling all the elements over sauteed spinach.

And that was it.

One word of warning: the dish is warm, comforting and very filling. Therefore, I would recommend waiting until the cold weather comes to try this one. I think you’ll thank me.

Seared Tuna Steaks or: How I Learned to Stop Paying Attention and Burn My Hand

That greyish slab of meat you’re looking at is not a pork chop. It’s a tuna steak.

This particular experiment gone wrong was adapted from a Men’s Health recipe for seared swordfish steaks. I foolishly thought that if I replaced the expensive swordfish steaks with the affordable (i.e. previously frozen) tuna steaks, everything would be fine. Did I mention how foolish this was?

I did follow the recipe very closely, adding a sprinkle of salt and pepper to each side of the steaks before tossing them in hot oil. After searing them for several minutes, I flipped the steaks and threw the whole skillet in the oven for another 8 – 10 minutes.

When removed from the oven, I was disappointed that the fish did not look as professionally “crusted” as I expected. But the real surprise came with the taste test.

After cutting in and sampling a bit, my worst suspicions were confirmed. Not only were they overcooked (not a hint of pink on the inside), but they retained that unpleasant fishy taste.

Like any desperate cook (or politician), I tried to cover up my mistake. There was still some oil in the skillet and I thought it would be a good way to moisten up the meat before turning to the refrigerator and spice rack for additional flavors.

Somehow, I ignored the fact that the skillet had just finished a good 10 minute bake at more than 300 degrees and was therefore extremely hot.

So I grabbed it.

It took a split second for my brain to realize what my hand was doing. But that split second was all it took for the burn to take hold. I like to describe it this way: OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

Ten minutes under cool water and a good numbing ice pack later, I was finally able to use my left hand to eat some of what I prepared.

The conclusion: my fingers were better cooked than the fish.

Marsala Massacre

Riddle me this: what do you call Chicken Marsala that doesn’t include any Marsala?

This was my dilemma last weekend when, halfway into the cooking process, I discovered a distinct lack of Marsala wine in the apartment. (I had also run out of mushrooms, but that’s another issue.)

During my extensive search for a substitute alcohol, I retrieved a tall blue bottle from the back of the pantry that had long since faded from memory. The liquid, dubbed Attitude III, was described on the bottle as “Blueberry Wine with grape spirits added.” Hmmmmmm…

I tried a little and, tasting a slight resemblance to the sweetness of Marsala and port wines, decided to throw it in. I almost immediately regretted my decision as strange, blueberry fumes rose from the pan. In a desperate attempt to save the sauce, I grabbed some refrigerated chardonnay and poured in a healthy splash.

Then, as a final cover-up, I doubled the amount of lemon juice I normally add. If there was going to be an edge to it, I thought it better to err on the side of citrus.

The result? Surprisingly, not bad.

Although it took a bite or two to get used to the less-familiar taste, the wife and I both enjoyed the experiment.

I can’t say it was the best meal I’ve ever had, but I can’t say it was the worst either. It was just a happy accident… but one I hope not to repeat anytime soon.

Food on Film: Fava Beans and a Nice Chianti

“I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti!” – Hannibal Lecter, The Silence of the Lambs

Maybe it’s because I’m not a crazed, cannibalistic killer, but somehow this just doesn’t seem appetizing to me. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted liver in my life – human or otherwise – and I can’t say that I’m too gung-ho to join that particular gustatory club.

However, this infamous quote does beg the question: How exactly did Hannibal prepare his meal?

His Liver

Being the cultured man that he is, I doubt Lecter would just eat his victim’s liver raw, especially if we assume he’s gone through the trouble of getting fresh fava beans and shelling them. Even though it’s fairly plebeian, I think our favorite serial killer might go with a standard Liver & Onions recipe, like the one here.

Now, the question becomes: did he prepare the fava beans with the liver in some sort of stew, or were the fava beans simply a side dish meant to fulfill Hannibal’s daily vegetable allowance?

Some Fava Beans

Unfortunately, we don’t know how the fava beans were prepared, as the script doesn’t bother to elaborate on this pivotal scene. But I can see it going one of two ways. Either Lecter was in a rush to get these beans done, in which case he probably just fried ‘em up like this… or, he went all South American with the beans, and made a salad of this sort.

Since Lecter saw fit to even mention the beans, I’m sure they had some personal significance and he would thus have gone with the more sophisticated second recipe. But alas, that’s pure conjecture.

What is certain is the type of red wine that Lecter consumed: the king beverage of Tuscany, Chianti.

A Nice Chianti

Now, I love Chianti. To me, it’s one of those wines that even when it’s bad, it’s slightly good. And believe me, there are some bad Chiantis out there (just look for anything made in the states, which isn’t really chianti anyway).

Chianti generally goes well with red meat dishes and other heavy foods, and Hannibal could have even used it to braise the liver. Certainly a Merlot or Cabernet would have lacked the necessary boldness he was looking for, though substitutions of Sangiovese, Syrah or Zinfandel would have been just as complementary to the meal.

Then again, I couldn’t see any of those varieties roll off Anthony Hopkin’s tongue with enough verve to really sell the character.

Let’s see: “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice… zinfandel!” That’s just about as scary as my grandma at Sunday dinner.

Citrus Mushroom Risotto with Spicy Garlic Shrimp

shrimp-risotto.jpg

Ah, risotto: bane of the lazy cook.

If the end product weren’t so deliriously delicious, I’m not sure you could convince me to constantly stir a pot of rice for a half hour straight. Repetitive, monotonous tasks just aren’t my forte.

This dish is mostly based on a Food & Wine recipe (you can see a by-the-books version here). I felt it was necessary to add the mushrooms and Parmesan because, well… all risotto should have mushrooms and Parmesan. It’s kind of a peanut butter and jelly issue for me.

Regardless of your personal preferences (and I highly encourage you to experiment further), the juxtaposition of the light, spicy shrimp and the heavy, tangy risotto really dances on the tongue and warms the belly.

Here’s how it goes:

Ingredients

  • 2 cups sliced mushrooms (preferably chanterelles or wild mushrooms)
  • 4 tbsp unsalted butter
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 small chilies, chopped or 1 tbsp dry red pepper
  • 6 cups chicken stock or low-sodium broth
  • 3 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 1.5 cups arborio rice
  • 1 tbsp lemon juice
  • 1.5 tsp grated lemon zest
  • salt and pepper
  • 1/2 lb. medium shrimp, shelled and deveined
  • 1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
  • 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese

Directions

Saute mushrooms in 1 tbsp of butter until liquid is released. Remove from heat and set aside.

Crush garlic and chilies together, preferably in a mortar. If using red (or chili) pepper, combine with crushed garlic and a little olive oil. Cover and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, bring the stock to a boil. Cover and keep hot.

In a larger saucepan, melt 1 tbsp of butter in 1 tbsp of the olive oil. Add the onion and cook over medium heat until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the rice and cook, stirring for 1 minute. Gradually add the stock, one cup at a time, stirring constantly and making sure all of the stock has been absorbed before adding more, about 25 minutes total.

When the rice is cooked through but still al dente, add the sauted mushrooms. The risotto is done when the grains are just tender and the sauce is creamy. Remove from the heat and stir in lemon juice, zest, remaining butter and Parmesan. Season with salt and pepper and cover.

In a large skillet, heat the remaining 2 tbsp of olive oil. Add the shrimp, season with salt and pepper, and cook over high heat until the shrimp are almost pink throughout, about 2 minutes. Add the chile/pepper and garlic mixture and cook, stirring for 1 minutes. Stir in the parsley.

Stir the risotto. Spoon into bowls or serving plates. Top risotto with shrimp. Serve with lemon wedges and/or extra parsley.

sizzling-shrimp.jpg

As you can tell, I didn’t have parsley. Which is really a shame, because a few flecks of green might have livened up the pictures.

I should really work on my presentation skills.

A good problem to have

peppers-meatballs.jpg

Sometimes, when making stuffed peppers, you’ll end up with leftover meat. The first thing you want to do in this situation is remain calm. Remember: meat is your friend.

To keep your dinner from being ruined, simply form the meat into small balls and cook them alongside the peppers.

Don’t view this as a personal failure. When you end up with meatballs, everybody wins.

Question: What other mistakes have you turned into culinary gold?