Oktoberfest Pork and Spaetzle

The Setting: A crisp October day.

 

The Soundtrack: Washing machine and dryer...endless loads today.

Steaming up the Oven: Nothing yet, but there's a chicken in my fridge just begging to be roasted.

The Scenario: A celebration of the season. Good beer and great food.

For the two years that Hoosband and I lived in South Florida, we were beyond blessed with a bounty of diverse dining options.

As you might imagine, we frequently enjoyed an abundance of Latin and Caribbean cuisines.

But one of the things we most looked forward to at least once a week was happy hour at Old Heidelberg, the local German establishment.

The main dining room was the place for outstanding feasts of sausages, schnitzels, and suckling pig any day of the week.

But on weekdays from four to seven, the bar was the place to be.

Here, drink orders were delivered with a small, white saucer and free access to two giant chaffing dishes of simple, comforting goodness.

One dish was a starch, the other some form of meat--generally saucy, occasionally unidentifiable, always delicious.

It wasn't exactly haute cuisine, but it certainly had us coming back for more.

This time of year, when the supermarket beer aisles boast mountainous displays of seasonal Oktoberfest brews, I can't help trying to re-create a little Heidelberg happy hour here at home.

And now you can, too.

Oktoberfest Pork and Spaetzle
In an attempt to make the meal a smidge more wholesome, I like to add a little whole-wheat flour to the spaetzle. If you prefer a whiter spaetzle, feel free to substitute more white flour for the whole wheat.

~for the pork~
2 large onions, thinly sliced
2-3 lbs pork shoulder roast
2 cups crumbled gingersnaps (1/2-inch-sized crumbles)
2 T kosher salt
1/2 tsp freshly cracked black pepper
2 T paprika
1/2 tsp celery seed
1 bay leaf*
2 whole allspice berries, optional*
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 T Dijon mustard
2 tsp apple cider vinegar
1 (12-oz) Oktoberfest-style beer (I used Sam Adams Oktoberfest)

Place the onions in a slow cooker and top with the pork and remaining ingredients. Cover and cook on low for 12 hours or until pork is fall-apart tender when prodded with a fork.

This pork keeps, stored in an airtight container in the fridge, for up to one week and is even better a day or two after it's made. Simply reheat leftovers in the microwave.

*Remove before serving. Also watch out for bones or bone fragments if using a bone-in cut of meat.

~for the spaetzle~
2/3 cup whole wheat flour
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp fine-grain sea salt
2 large eggs
1/3 cup milk
oil
1-2 T butter
2 T finely chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the flours, salt, eggs, and milk. Cover and set aside while you bring a large pot of water, plus 1 T salt and 1 T oil, to a boil.

Lightly coat a large platter or rimmed baking sheet with oil. Have a metal colander, a rubber spatula, and a heatproof spider or large slotted spoon handy.

Once the water is boiling, hold the colander over the boiling water and carefully pour 1/4 of the batter into the colander. With a rapid, stirring motion, use the spatula to push the batter through the holes of the colander and into the boiling water. Watch out for any rogue batter trying to escape from holes not positioned over the water--it happens. Use the spatula to carefully scrape excess batter clinging to the outside of the colander into the boiling water. The spaetzle cook almost immediately and float to the top when they are done. Set down the colander and use the spider or large slotted spoon to transfer the cooked spaetzle to the oiled baking sheet. Gently shake the sheet to keep the spaetzle from clumping together.

Note: if any raw batter gets caught on top of the cooked spaetzle at the top of the pot, simply use the spatula to poke it down into the water so it has a chance to cook through.

Repeat process with remaining batter.

At this point the spaetzle can either be cooled to room temperature, transferred to a lightly oiled, airtight container, and refrigerated for up to 4 days, or prepared as follows:

Melt the butter in a large saute pan or skillet over medium heat. Add the spaetzle, and cook 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in half the parsley and season lightly with salt and pepper if desired.

Top bowls of spaetzle with the pork and its juices, garnish with remaining parsley, and serve with a frosty glass of your favorite Oktoberfest brew.

Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.

Baked Conchiglie with Spicy Sausage, Kale, and Ricotta

The Setting: A mostly cloudy day in Nashville.

The Soundtrack: Oia's delightful baby banter.

Steaming up the Oven: Chocolate cake for a new recipe to be disclosed soon...assuming it turns out alright.

The Scenario: Comfort in a bowl, coming your way.

Every now and then I get a ridiculously intense, won't-go-away, got-to-have-it craving for lasagna.

It's not the layers of pasta that elicit this sensation--though, hey, layers of pasta are great.

But what makes me purr like Garfield the cat is that perfect combination of ultra-comforting flavors and textures: spicy, meaty, Italian sausage; juicy, acidic, and slightly sweet tomato; stretchy-gooey, melted mozzarella, golden and crunchy around the edges of the dish; and, most of all, super-fresh, creamy ricotta, oozing out with every press of fork to pasta.

In truth, it was the desire for fresh, local ricotta above all that sent me to the store not so long ago with a list of lasagna ingredients in hand.

So when a charming brown-paper bag of imported conchiglie (con-KEEL-yay) caught my eye on the pasta aisle, I placed my wavy lasagna sheets right back on the shelf and eagerly plopped the bag of curvy, ridged, ricotta-catching shells into my basket.

With pasta that traps the creamy cheese and hearty sauce so well, each bite is like a little present, popping with flavor and literally oozing with yumminess in every bite.

Look for fresh, locally made ricotta if you can--it makes all the difference!

Baked Conchiglie with Spicy Sausage, Kale, and Ricotta
Conchiglie simply means shells. While the word most often refers to the familiar conch-style shells of mac-and-cheese fame, it may also refer to the snail-shell-style conchiglie that inspired this dish. These particular shells are also often called lumache, which, appropriately enough, means snails.

1 lb hot Italian turkey sausage
4 medium-sized shallots, finely chopped (1 large or two small white onions would be fine in this dish as well; I just happened to have shallots on hand)
2 medium-sized carrots, finely chopped
2 ribs celery, finely chopped
freshly cracked black pepper
crushed red pepper flakes
salt
2 tsp garlic powder
1 T dried oregano
2 tsp dried basil
8 oz frozen chopped kale
2 (15 oz) cans plain tomato sauce
1 lb dried conchiglie
olive oil for the baking dish
2 lbs fresh ricotta
1 lb shredded mozzarella
several leaves fresh basil and flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

Remove the casings from the sausage and brown the meat in a saute pan or skillet over med-high heat, using a heatproof rubber spatula to crumble the sausage into little pieces.

Meanwhile, place the shallots, carrots, and celery in a medium-sized saucepan over medium heat and season with black pepper and crushed red pepper flakes. Cover and cook 6 minutes. Season lightly with salt, add garlic powder and dried herbs, cover, and cook 10 minutes or until shallots and celery are translucent and carrots are softened, stirring occasionally and adjusting the heat if necessary.

When the sausage crumbles have browned on all sides, add the frozen kale to the sausage pan and season lightly with salt and pepper, stirring to combine. Reduce heat to med-low, cover, and cook just until kale has thawed. The moisture from the kale will help loosen any fond (browned bits) from the bottom of the pan so that you can scrape them up and incorporate them into the mixture.

Transfer the sausage mixture to the saucepan with the veggies. Stir in both cans of tomato sauce, cover, and cook while you prepare the pasta.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly grease two 8x8x3-inch casserole dishes with olive oil.

Bring 4 quarts of generously salted water to boil in a large pot--you'll want to use about 1 T fine-grain salt or 1 1/2 T coarse salt.

Add the pasta and boil 8 minutes or until al dente (soft to touch but with a little firmness left in the bite). Strain the pasta, add it back to the pot, and return the pot to a burner set to low heat for about 1 minute to help drive off any excess moisture.

Pour the sauce over the pasta, and stir to coat evenly.

Place 1/4 of the pasta in each of the two prepared dishes, spreading the pasta into an even layer in each.

Dollop the ricotta (1 lb for each dish) evenly over the top of the pasta.

Spread out the riccotta in an even layer if desired, top with the remaining pasta, and finish with the shredded mozzarella.

Bake at 400 degrees F for 15 minutes, or until the mozzarella is completely melted and verging on golden and bubbly. Sprinkle with the fresh herbs, and serve.

Serves 8-10.

Thanks for reading. Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life!

Vietnamese Chicken Salad

The Setting: A somewhat rainy, somewhat chilly spring day in good ole' South Bend.

The Soundtrack: Cars and buses breezing by; Oia's dreamy breathing.

Steaming up the Oven: Leftover Ham and Kale pizza.

The Scenario: Did the Crispy Rice Chips, Grilled Tomato Salsa, and Spicy Cucumber Salad whet your appetite for more of Alford and Duguid's Southeast-Asian finds?

If so, you're in luck, because today we're headed to Vietnam for ga xe phai, or Vietnamese Chicken Salad, a hot, sour, salty, and sweet entree that'll have you packing your bags and stamping your passport by the time you can ask for seconds.

Vietnamese Chicken Salad may be something you can find at your local Asian-bistro chain in the States, but that doesn't make it any less authentic. Alford and Duguid found this version many years ago at a mom-and-pop establishment in Vietnam, and to this day it's one of their favorite dishes.

One of the things that makes this dish so special to the authors is the inclusion of rau ram, or Vietnamese coriander, a "strong, distinctive-tasting herb" (Hot Sour Salty Sweet, p197) that is not at all reminiscent of the coriander we in the States know as cilantro.

Unfortunately, I have been, as of yet, unable to track down any rau ram in my general vicinity.

Fortunately, the authors suggest a few alternatives. I used a mixture of mint and sweet basil in my salad, and the combo was incredible.

Hoosband and I served the salad atop freshly steamed brown rice, which helped diffuse a bit of the heat from the Serrano peppers and created nice contrasts of hot and cold and soft and crunchy...though honestly, I could easily eat the whole bowl of this stuff by itself if left to my own devices.

With saltiness from the fish sauce and vinegar, sweetness from the sugar, sourness from the lime juice, and heat from the chiles, this dish is a prime example of Southeast-Asian cuisine's mastery of combining opposing-yet-complementary tastes in a single dish.

Easy...tasty...healthy...what more can you ask for?

This recipe is reprinted with permission from Artisan Books; my notes are in red.

Vietnamese Chicken Salad with Rau Ram (ga xe phai --Vietnam)

2 pounds chicken legs and/or breasts, rinsed (see Note below) I used 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts; also I never rinse my chicken--it gets the juces everywhere and creates more opportunities for contamination.
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
3 tablespoons Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce
2 T rice or cider vinegar
1 tsp sugar, or to taste
2 to 3 bird or Serrano chiles, minced I used 2 Serrano with the seeds and membranes
3 shallots, thinly sliced
1 cup bean sprouts, rinsed I omitted these because my market did not have any at the time
2 cups shredded napa cabbage, or substitute finely shredded Savoy cabbage I used 3 cups of packaged cole slaw shreds with carrot and red cabbage
2/3 cup Vietnamese coriander leaves (rau ram), coarsely torn, or substitute Asian basil or sweet basil leaves, torn, or 1/2 cup finely chopped mint leaves plus extra whole leaves for garnish I used half mint and half sweet basil
freshly ground black or white pepper

Place a heavy pot with about 4 cups water in it on the stove to boil. When simmering, add the chicken and poach until the juices run clear when the flesh id pierced with a skewer, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove the chicken from the cooking liquid and let cool; reserve the broth for another purpose. (The chicken can be cooked ahead, and stored, once cooled to room temperature, in a well-sealed container in the refrigerator, for up to 48 hours. Before proceeding, bring back to room temperature.) My boneless, skinless breasts took about 25 minutes at a very gentle simmer.

Remove and discard the chicken skin, lift the meat off the bones, and pull into shreds. There should be about two cups of meat.

In a small bowl, stir together the lime juice, fish sauce, vinegar, sugar, chiles, and garlic. Separate the shallot slices into rings, then add to the dressing. Let stand for 30 minutes, if you have time. I did this step before I put the chicken on to simmer so the shallots could hang out in the dressing as the chicken poached.

Blanch the bean sprouts in boiling water (or the reserved chicken broth) for about 30 seconds, then refresh with cold water and drain thoroughly. In a large bowl, combine the chicken, bean sprouts, cabbage, and herbs. Pour the dressing over and toss gently to blend well. I mixed up the dressing in a large bowl so I could add everything else straight to the dressing without dirtying extra dishes.

Mound the salad decoratively on a plate. Grind pepper over if you wish, and garnish with herb leaves.

Serves 4 with rice or noodles.

Note: If you already have 2 cups or more of cooked chicken, you can use it. Just shred it into bite-size pieces, then mix up the dressing and assemble the salad as directed. This salad is traditionally served with deep-fried shrimp chips. We like it simply with rice or noodles.

Excerpted from Hot Sour Salty Sweet by Jeffrey Alford & Naomi Duguid (Artisan Books). Copyright 2000.

***

I hope you are enjoying our trip down the Mekong. Stay tuned for more tasty travels and our final entree from Hot Sour Salty Sweet, coming soon!

Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.

No Concept of Time

The Setting: The incrementally cleaner-by-the-day Hovel.

The Soundtrack: Gilmore Girls, Season Seven

On the Stove-top: Goat Cheese and Roasted Tomato Polenta with Fried Sunflower Seeds and Sauteed Leeks.

The Scenario: Two years down, a lifetime to look forward to.

At a wedding in Hoosband's hometown in Texas last January, one of Hoosband's old family friends asked when we tied the knot.

When Hoosband responded, "May, 2007," I smiled and nodded, completely oblivious to the factual misrepresentation that had just transpired. It sounded right.

A few seconds later, we awkwardly changed our story to "2009," realizing our mistake.

At work a few months back, a coworker inquired how long I had been married. I said "three years" without pause or consideration.

Pregnancy brain may be partially to blame, but the truth is, when Hoosband and I celebrated our two-year anniversary a few days ago, it was hard to remember how many years had gone by, hard to believe it had only been two.

It's not that time has been dragging by any means--it's been a bit of a whirlwind in fact: major moves, career changes, old friends missed, new friends made, and a new baby on the way.

Perception of time elapsed is a strange and fickle thing.

When I consider it's been a year since I've been home, a year feels like an eternity.

But in terms of my marriage, two years feels so insignificant, so brief, like it couldn't possibly be the correct descriptor.

It feels like we've always been together, like the parameters of time have no place fencing us in.

I know, I'm weird.

The calendar and the clock seem very real, however, when I wake up from a four-hour, post-breakfast nap and discover the prime hours for my nesting activities have evaded me.

Here's a taste of what I've been craving in between dreams and attempts at Hovel reconstruction, aka cleaning out the apartment.

Goat Cheese and Roasted Tomato Polenta with Fried Sunflower Seeds and Sauteed Leeks
3 1/2 cups no-salt-added chicken stock (preferably homemade)
3/4 tsp sea salt
1 cup dry polenta (such as Bob's Red Mill Organic Polenta Corn Grits)
4 oz (about 3 large strips) raw bacon, diced
3 oz Oven-Roasted Tomatoes, coarsely chopped (recipe below)
6 oz fresh goat cheese
2 T shelled sunflower seeds, raw and unsalted
Sauteed Leeks (recipe below)

1. In a medium-large saucepan or small stock pot, bring chicken stock and 1/2 tsp salt to a boil. Add polenta, reduce heat to med-low, and cook 20-30 minutes or till the mixture is thick and the grits are tender, stirring frequently to prevent lumps and/or sticking. Be careful stirring, as the mixture may bubble and pop at your arms.

2. Meanwhile, cook the bacon in a skillet over med-high heat till the pieces are nice and crispy and most of the fat has rendered out. Carefully transfer bacon to a small dish and set aside, reserving the rendered fat in the skillet.

3. Reduce the heat to med-low and add the sunflower seeds to the fat. Fry the seeds till just golden, being careful not to let them burn. Carefully transfer the seeds to a small dish, toss with remaining 1/4 tsp salt, and set aside.

4. When polenta is ready, remove from heat and stir in the bacon, roasted tomatoes, and goat cheese, reserving about 2 T of each for topping.

5. Ladle mounds of polenta into serving bowls and sprinkle with fried sunflower seeds and reserved bacon, tomatoes, and goat cheese. Serve with Sauteed Leeks. If you opt to skip the sauteed leeks, snip some fresh chives over the top of the polenta for a little boost of color and flavor.

Oven-Roasted Tomatoes
8 fresh Roma (plum) tomatoes, rinsed and patted dry
1 tsp sea salt

1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Stack three sheets of paper towels on the counter.

3. Using a pairing knife and working over a small bowl, remove the core from the top of each tomato, slice the tomato in half, and gently squeeze out (or use the knife to help you remove) the seeds. Place cored, seeded, tomato halves cut-side down on the paper towels as you go. My mother always made me save the "tomato innards" for her when I performed this task in her kitchen. They can be frozen and added to soups or chili, but if you foresee no use for them, feel free to discard.

3. Gently press the top of each tomato half to help the paper towels absorb any excess juice, then arrange the tomatoes cut-sides up on a baking sheet or jelly-roll pan. Sprinkle tomatoes with salt, and bake at 250 for 6 hours or till they have deepened in color and shrunken to about 1/3 of their original size. Allow to cool. Check the tomatoes every few hours to make sure they are cooking evenly. It may be necessary to remove tomatoes that were smaller or less meaty early to prevent over-drying or burning.

4. Store cooled tomatoes in an airtight container in the fridge for up to a week. Also try combining with garlic, olive oil, and a handful of pine nuts and fresh basil in the food processor for a delicious roasted tomato pesto!

Sauteed Leeks
When I'm serving leeks as a side item, I like to chop them into rough, 1/2-by-2-inch rectangles instead of the traditional, thinly sliced rings. Either way, they are delicious!

2 large leeks
2 T butter (I prefer Kerrygold)
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground, coarse black pepper

1. Chop off the rooty edge and the darkest, most fibrous ends from each leek. Cut the leeks into 2-inch sections, and quarter each section, forming approximate 1/2-by-2-inch rectangles, removing any tough, dark-green exterior pieces as you go if necessary. Set a large colander inside of a larger bowl, and fill the bowl with cool water. Add the chopped leeks to the water, and use your hands to break up any large pieces, allowing the leeks to release any dirt or grit. Remove the colander from the bowl, shaking out as much water as possible, and use a clean dish rag or paper towel to pat the leeks dry.

2. Add the butter, leeks, salt and pepper to a saute pan over med-high heat, cover, and cook 10 minutes or till the leeks are softened and the lightest parts are translucent, stirring occasionally.