Modern Day Madeleine

It takes a lot to be able to call a place home.  When I moved from San Francisco to Santa Fe-- i.e., from my hometown and the greatest city on earth to some dusty, forgotten trading post in the middle of a state a lot of Americans have never heard of-- I had no intention of putting down roots.  Funny how fast a girl can eat her words.  As it turned out, Santa Fe was such a magical place that just one blog post could never do it justice.  I might be a bit biased-- after all, I spent two years at a wonderful school, I met my future husband, I got a really fantastic dog, and had some great friends during the time I spent in The City Different.  The cards really were stacked in my favor.

But let me describe one of the things that makes Santa Fe, and the southwest as a whole, objectively special: chile.  My first night in Santa Fe, I arrived at the hostel after dark.  Hungry and tired, I asked at the front desk if there were any decent restaurants close by that would still be open.  Ten minutes later I was sitting at a little two-top tucked in the corner of one of the dark, labyrinthine rooms of a Santa Fe institution, Maria's New Mexican Kitchen.  While I stared at a margarita menu several pages long, a waiter who looked and acted like he'd been working there for 20 years (and I later found out that he had), asked me what'll I have.  Cheese enchiladas, please.  Red, green, or Christmas? he asked.  When I looked up at him blankly, he actually cracked a smile and said, Red chile, Green chile, or both?  And right then and there, yet another fierce addiction to chile was born.  

Some people adhere to red chile, the chile which has been allowed to ripen to redness and is then dried-- it's a much smokier, earthier flavor, and often much spicier than the green.  And others are intense supporters of the green chile, picked while still young and then roasted in massive, rotating metal roasters till the skins blister off.  Green chile, since it is cooked fresh, is always chunky; red chile, since it's made from dried chiles that must be blended, is always smooth.  Both, especially in late fall right after harvest, are as spicy as anything you have ever eaten.  I myself, ever since my first night in Maria's, have always been a Christmas girl.

After Adam and I graduated from school, curiosity brought us to Portland, and then a year and a half later, a job opportunity brought us out to Hood River.  We love it here, and I hope we stay a long time, but we are both homesick for Santa Fe, there's no denying it.  But as luck would have it, New Mexicans are not as few and far between as I thought, and I discovered that not only is one of my new co-workers from Albuquerque, but she loves chile too!  Loves it so much that she stocks up on it when she goes home to visit, and even had enough to give me a bag of it!  I couldn't believe my luck, and after some cursory protestations, I happily received her kind gift.

A couple nights later, look what Adam and I had for dinner:  

Green chile enchiladas!  Though the October Gorge winds whipped around outside our house, and the snow-capped Mt. Adams sat stately in the dining room window, we were transported to the dry sunny heat of the high desert for a few happy minutes.

My coworker gave me a great recipe for green chile sauce, too-- after thawing the raw green chile, you just stir it into a roux and then thin or thicken to your contentment with water.  You may also add oregano and cumin if you like.  If your chile is from New Mexico, you will NOT need to make it any spicier than it already is.  Case in point, my shiny forehead:

As we gasped and exhaled and chugged water, Adam said, "Woo!  I'm starting to get leaky."  and he blew his nose.  We laughed, and reminisced some more about our beloved southwestern town.

 

Garden Nymphs

My friend Raina is "that friend," the friend that each of us has at least one of, the friend who has an incredible garden.  The garden that, if you weren't so proud of your friend, you'd be extremely jealous of.  A recent evening when Raina had a few of us over for dinner, us girls went out to take a look at the finale of her veggies.  As we discovered, the veggies were still going strong in late September.  The tomatoes were almost shoulder high, and hid tons of little, red ripe ones under her skirts; the cucumbers yielded almost five massive fruits; and the chard just wouldn't quit-- Raina said she was harvesting it for the fifth time that season.  There were carrots too-- cute, crisp ones, and as you can probably see in the background of some of the shots, Raina's nasturtium is aspiring to a mountainous size.  Berkeley (curly hair) and I were so excited by the bounty and thrilled by Raina's (blue tank top) handiwork, we decided to have an impromptu photo shoot.  Here we are rolling around in the garden, picking veggies, eating them straight from the vine, and just all around loving and relishing the fact that you can grow what you eat.  Astonishing.

Hoppy Boy

Here's a shot of a festive-looking Adam right at the start of our shift as pourers at the 2008 Annual Hood River HopsFest.  It was also taken right before my camera died, so I don't have any other documentation of the next three hours of rain-soaked beer drinkers wandering among the dozen or so breweries' tables tasting, quaffing, or otherwise chugging the fruits of this year's hops harvest.  It was fun, though it is rather unfortunate that hops have to be harvested late enough in the year that the beer they end up going into won't be ready till October; I had to sit through untold demonstrations of Adam literally pouring water out of his shoes, a sight to momentarily dampen even the most voracious appetite for a good local microbrew.

Easy Weeknight Recipe

Has it really been a week since my last post?  Being a working girl now whose day ends at 7pm, far too late to serve a decent dinner before 9pm, I've had to make some adjustments.  I will admit there was a little bit of a tantrum last week, when I threw down the kitchen towel and made some comment along the lines of not being able to let my artistry shine under these conditions, and we went to the (very cheap and very delicious) taco truck on Cascade Ave. for dinner.

Luckily, in my search for recipes that are relatively quick, yummy, and healthy, I came across this winner.  The tofu did take a little longer than I had hoped to roast, but maybe a firmer tofu and a higher temperature would help this problem.  So, on a hectic weeknight when you can't in good conscience go the taco truck again, try:

Roasted Tofu with Shiitake and Ginger Over Spinach

6 Tbsp. soy sauce

6 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar

3 Tbsp. plus 1 Tbsp. evoo

2 1/2 Tbsp. honey

2 1/2 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger

2 cloves garlic, minced

3/4 lb. shiitake and/or crimini mushrooms, sliced*

1 lb. firm tofu, patted dry, sliced 1/2 inch thick

1 quart baby spinach leaves

*For the record, crimini mushrooms are young portabellas.  Consider this when paying twice as much per pound for their parents in the grocery store.

1.  Preheat the oven to 400.  In a bowl whisk together the soy sauce, vinegar, oil, honey, ginger, and garlic.  Place the mushrooms in a bowl and add enough marinade to evenly cover them.  In the remaining marinade, bathe each tofu slice and then arrange in a baking dish.  Bake tofu, pouring remaining marinade over halfway through, until marinade is evaporated and tofu is brown around the edges, about 30 minutes.  Spread the mushrooms out in a large baking dish and transfer to oven, baking until tender and golden, about 10 to 15 minutes.

2.  In about a tablespoon of evoo (or sesame oil, if you've got it), briefly saute the spinach until just tender.  Turn off heat even before you think it's done.  It'll wilt while it sits in the pan.  When tofu and mushrooms are done, arrange spinach on plates; top with slices of tofu, followed by mushrooms.  Sprinkle with sesame seeds for garnish (optional). 

The Pear That Found Itself

Once upon a time there were two enormous Comice Pears.  Well, for that matter, there is a whole bag of them, but suspecting their ripeness, I only started with two.  I washed and sliced them in preparation for the next vodka infusion.  But as I sliced, my suspicions were confirmed-- they were too crisp, and not sweet enough.  And so I needed to think of another plan.    

I thought of my beloved radio show, The Splendid Table, and the advice given on it last week to a caller who had to figure out what to do with his bumper crop of pears.  The infinitely knowledgeable host Lynn Rosetto-Kaspar suggested a roast.  Sprinkle the sliced pears in olive oil, sugar, cinnamon, and rosemary (pestled to avoid crunch) and spread out in a casserole.  Roast in a hot (450) oven until brown, bubbly, and carmelized.  

The result was gorgeous, rich, and delicious.  But what to do with them?  Was I to eat them plain?  While eating one slice was decadent, I couldn't foresee that I wouldn't be wholly taking advantage of the flavors eating them unaccompanied.  And so I whipped up a coffee cake, the recipe for which belonged to my great-grandmother.  Instead of chopped walnuts or pecans for the topping, I toasted and chopped some almonds instead.  Also, in went the pears (chopped).

The cake, as you can see, is beautiful, and better yet, it tastes great.  The sweet, smoky roasted pears provide the perfect mushiness to counterbalance the crunchy nuts, and to moisten the dense cake.  I knew these pears were destined for something great-- and to think, I had planned for them something as lowly as vodka!  (The pears' brothers and sisters, however, still ripening in a bag on the counter, won't be so lucky.)

Looking Sharp

Dear Mary and Mike,

Your wonderful birthday present-- a Chef's Choice Diamond Hone Knife Sharpener-- arrived in the mail yesterday.  Thank you!  I was so excited that I plugged it in, and after a cursory reading of the directions (which I wouldn't normally do, but it seemed worthwhile in the interest of my knives), proceeded to sharpen every knife in the house.  It worked beautifully!  Knives that I had given up for worthless were slicing my test apple into paper-thin slivers.  

The occasional addition of a luxury item to the kitchen is so exciting-- it feels like the breakthrough of an industry, like the invention of the cotton-gin or the printing press-- because my food improves exponentially.  Some recent breakthroughs in Megan's Kitchen, Inc.: a food processor (I can't believe I used to rely on a blender!!), a mortar and pestle (ah, the flavors of crushed herbs!!), and now, a knife sharpener (chopping is fun again!).  To carry on with my industrial metaphor, I thank you for your investment.  As a stockholder, I'm sure you'll be very pleased with the dividends (when you come to visit and eat my cooking).  In the meantime, rest assured that your son and I eat very well.

Love, Megan.  

Pizza My Heart

I think the food that I crave most often is pizza.  Then margaritas, then Thai food.  In that order.  Luckily, the #1 craving is extremely easy and delicious to make at home.  Even easier than margaritas, if you can believe it (all that business about lime juice and triple sec in perfect proportion to tequila-- it's a mystery).  And if you make your own crust and sauce, the tastier it'll  be.  But don't get intimidated, because you can segment your tasks, and when it comes time to actually bake and eat it, you'll be satisfied in minutes flat.  So, here's how to make pizza in five easy steps, steps which do not necessarily need to be completed in proximity to one another.

1.  Dough.  This is the hard part, if you can call it hard.  If you haven't worked with yeast, or kneaded dough, it may intimidate.  But look at it this way.  If you've always wanted to learn how to make bread, perhaps pizza dough is the best way to start because a) you only let it rise once and b) it makes no difference how ugly it is-- you'll be slathering it with toppings.  So:

Pour a packet of yeast into a measuring cup (the large Pyrex kinds with a handle and spout are best, so you've got room to spare).  Without yet filling the measuring cup, get the hot water going with your finger under it until you reach a temperature comparable to that of a hot tub or bath.  Fill the measuring cup to 1 1/3 cups.  Let sit under the stove light, or even in the oven with the light on for five-ten minutes so that the yeast will re-awaken.  Meanwhile, measure 4 cups flour (feel free to substitute half with wheat), 2 Tbsp. veg or olive oil, and 1 tsp. salt into a bowl.  When the yeast/water is foamy and bubbly, add to the flour mixture.  Mix well with your hands, and turn out onto a floured surface.  Knead for ten minutes (you'll work up a sweat).  Cover with a damp cloth and let rise for two hours.  I usually stick my rising dough back in the oven with the light on, and hey, if you need to get ready for work, give it as much time as you can; in my case, an hour.  When you're flying out the door, stick the dough in an air tight plastic bag and throw it in the fridge.

2.  Sauce.  So easy.  Roughly slice, chop, or crush as many garlic cloves as you desire.  Let sizzle lightly in a Tbsp. olive oil for a minute or two.  Add a can of chopped tomatoes.  Season to taste with your favorite herbs (some of my faves: a touch of rosemary, liberal oregano, basil, a touch of cinnamon, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes).  Be sure and add a teaspoon or two of sugar.  This cuts the acidity.  Pour the lot into the blender and blend.  Some may prefer to leave it chunky, but I don't want to interfere with the toppings.

3.  Prepping the dough.  You'll want to take it out of the fridge a fair while before it's time to bake; I'd say a half an hour or so.  If you're planning on baking soon, set the dough (still in the bag, or on a pan) on top of the stove while it pre-heats (to 400 degrees).  This'll soften the dough more quickly.  When it gets malleable, squish and push and squeege the dough outward on a cookie sheet that has been greased or sprinkled with cornmeal until its big and flat-- no thicker than a quarter inch.  I only put this as its own step because it takes a while for the dough to soften after being cold.

4.  Toppings!  This is the best part.  First off, get fontina cheese instead of mozzarella.  I read this once for a lasagna recipe and I will never, ever go back.  Fontina is to a Moonstruck Chocolate truffle as mozzarella is to the waxy, tasteless chocolates you find in an advent calendar.  Trust me on this one.  But as for the rest of your toppings, the sky is truly the limit.  See how many old things in the back of your fridge or cupboards you can use up for a topping.  Canned pineapple?  Pine nuts?  Basil from the garden?  Some mushrooms on the verge of funkiness?  Maybe even some fruit?  I've heard some intriguing things about the combo of pears and blue cheese.  Have it your way.  My own concoction pictured here consists of onions, red bell pepper, kalamata olives, sundried tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, red pepper flakes, and parmesan.

5.  Bake.  I'm bad at giving times.  People like their food different ways.  But here's what to look for: bubbling cheese that's just beginning to brown.  Fifteen, maybe eighteen minutes.  Then it's done.  Remove from oven.  Let cool if you can bear it.  Enjoy.  You deserve it: you built it from scratch!