Texas Barbeque

Going for barbeque in Texas is more or less a carnivorous orgy.  On the way home from work yesterday, I had an overwhelming yen for a two-meat plate smothered in tangy/spicy magic flanked by heaps of carbohydrates.  What mama wants, mama gets.

We went do Don's Depot, an odd little barn/hut along 290, run by a quartet of fervent Mexicans more interested in the Espana/Portugal World Cup game than dumping ice cream scoops of cherry cobbler into styrofoam cups. The barbeque, however, is enough to make me want to sing gospel tunes and do the Roger Rabbit at the same time.  My kids did their own damage to the plates - Monster polished off two pieces of Texas Toast (with a fork) in his continued boycott of all things not beige, and Ladybug snitched sloppy fistfuls of anything unattended, including a disastrous handful of sauce.

Here's the problem with going for barbeque:  I eat way too much of it.  I cram my face full of sauce-slathered sausage and brisket without coming up for air.  The remaining spaces between my cheeks as I barely chew the meat is filled with macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and what the restauranteur playfully dubs "green beans."  By the time I'm waddling out of the place, I feel like I've swallowed three bricks coated in shame sauce, and it sticks with me the rest of the day.

To add guilt to the gurgling pile, we got home yesterday to find our new Greenling box had arrived, filled with all sorts of leafy magic.  I noticed with dismay that, after the Writers' League of Texas Agent's Conference over the weekend, a lot of last week's vegetables were still in the fridge, many of them already looking past their prime.

To make up for it, I made a magical little salad, mostly free from guilt.  In the new CSA box were some gorgeous packs of butter beans and blueberries.  I sauteed the butter beans in butter, along with a hefty fistful of lemon basil, a chopped onion and some coarsely chopped elephant garlic.  After everything started to brown, I tossed it on a waiting bed of red butter lettuce, baby spinach, blueberries, shredded carrots and mozzarella cheese, and (because I can never help myself), coated it in flax seeds and panko breadcrumbs.

On Indiana Jones

Monster has become obsessed with Indiana Jones.  Between his pilferage of the House Fedora (you have one - admit it), declaring "bad things" to be Nazis, and the fact that the trilogy is on a regular loop, it's safe to say that he's a bit of a fan.  (Yes, it's a trilogy.  The fourth movie never happened.)

Now my husband and I are faced with a debate.  Up until now, the whole child-censorship thing has been fairly easy.  Cartoon violence doesn't bother us - things like kung-fu, crazy action scenes where things blow up, etc don't bother us if they don't bother him.  We have discussions on the ridiculous nature of what's happening, and he's developed a pretty good sense of the fantastic.  Blood-spattery war movies are dependent on the context - is it something he's likely to understand, does it invite the opportunity for dialogue, or is it just going to be scary and confusing?  Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is an odd one - while I've used the "kalima" heart-ripping scene to hilarious effect on stage in the past, it's not something that's easily explained to a three year old, the context is cultists kidnapping children for slave labor and sacrificing their rescuers...  It doesn't fit any of the criteria.  My instinct is to stop the movie before then, but Monster is just too smart for that kind of thing.  Hubby has suggested we do like we always do and take our cues from Monster - he hasn't demonstrated anything more than feigned fright (his usual grab-up-the-stuffed-tiger, white-knuckled action sequence reaction) to stuff that makes me kind of cringe.

Playing with Opposites.

We got some really amazing radishes in the Greenling box this week - heirloom watermelon radishes.  They're absolutely gorgeous when sliced, but getting the sort of thin slices that would be necessary for my evening's plans would have required a much steadier hand than I, ninja-sharp knives, or a mandolin.  Instead, I made less-lovely matchsticks and dropped hint-bombs on my husband for my upcoming birthday.

After match-sticking these beauties, I tossed them with a little white wine vinegar and olive oil, salt and pepper and put them in the fridge to keep them nice and cold.

Contrasting opposites in a meal has always been a way to make things interesting.  I decided to play with velvet and crunch, cream and vinegar, pepper and cheese, and hot and cold.

Watermelon Radish Risotto

My risotto was made traditionally, mincing half an onion and one elephant garlic clove and letting them sweat with two tablespoons of butter.  I toasted 1 cup of Arborio with the onion and garlic for about a minute until they started to brown just ever so.  I used 2 cups of chicken stock, 1 cup of white wine and 2 cups of water, adding gradually and stirring until the added liquid is gone before adding more.  When I finished, I added one cup of grated parmesan cheese, stirred to melt.

Covering the risotto in the slightly pickled radish and some basil blossoms made it absolutely gorgeous.  The hint of lemon from the basil buds combined with the pepper of the radish cut through the density of the risotto and lightened the whole dish.

"Summer Stew"

The day before our Greenling Local Box arrives is always a bit of a mash-up of trying to finish off the veggies that are still doing time in our produce bin.  Despite cramming as many different veggies into dinner every night, each Tuesday I've invariably got a bit of something left, despite feeding a family of four and our frequent dinner guests.

Having spent yesterday with two of my lovely friends, Tara and >Josie, we had more veggies to gobble today than usual.  My answer?  I'll call it a summer stew:  roasted veggies and chicken in a thick tomato broth.

Ingredients:

1 bell pepper, diced
3 ears corn, corn cut from ears
1 large green tomato
4 medium tomatoes (vine ripened)
1 red onion, diced
1 large clove of elephant garlic, roughly chopped
1 large can crushed tomatoes
1 can pinto beans, rinsed
4 chicken breasts
3 cups beef stock
1 tbs oregano
1 tbs basil
salt to taste
1 tbs turmeric
1 tbs butter

In a 350 oven, bake the chicken for 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large stock pot, add all chopped fresh veggies and the butter.  Stir until onions are translucent.  Add beef stock, crushed tomatoes and beans, herbs and spices and salt.  Bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally.

When chicken is done, chop and add to pot.  Serve with crumbled goat cheese and french fried onions.

Peach Salsa, Pork Chops and Turmeric Risotto

I'll admit it.  I adore cilantro.  To me, it's citrusy-green flavor and scent totally remind me of summer.  I began my culinary fete today armed with the newest spice brought home from Central Market to experiment with:  Turmeric.  I've had it before, but always mixed with a curry powder.  I've heard it called the "poor man's saffron," which seems like a good reason to experiment with IT, rather than actual saffron.

This week's Greenling box came with four of the most incredible peaches I've had in ages.  I decided to make a quick salsa out of it:  Chopping up three peaches, a quarter of a bunch of cilantro, one clove of elephant garlic, a quarter of a red onion, a teaspoon of salt, some cracked pepper.

I had some pork chops fresh from the butcher at HEB, so figured I'd fry those up.  To me, a pork chop is only ho-hum unless it's got a good sear.  For some reason, my hubby has a hard time getting a sear on anything, partly because he gets antsy when it comes to cooking.  Here's a tip for the hubby:  just let it be.  The more you poke a piece of meat, the more you "double check it" to see if it's done, the more sorry your sear.

And now, to the Risotto.  My love affair with risotto began when a certain Italian maestro decided to cook a meal for a theatre troupe.  Dinner turned out to be a giant pot of gorgonzola risotto and a bottle of chianti for each of us while watching some of the most incredible Italian clowning I've ever seen.  Needless to say, I was smitten, and it's vaguely possible the chianti had nothing to do with it.  His tip?  Don't stop stirring the risotto.  Armed with his advice, I attempted my first a few months ago and haven't quit.

Tip number one:  you really need to get arborio rice - long grain rice doesn't make enough starch to get creamy like you'll like it.

In a big pot, put half of a red onion, minced, one elephant garlic clove, minced, and a tablespoon of olive oil or butter.  Let soften over medium heat for about five minutes.  Meanwhile, measure out three cups of chicken stock and two cups of white wine into another pot and put over low heat.  Back in the pot of onions and garlic, add one teaspoon of turmeric, a teaspoon of salt, and one cup of arborio rice.  Stir for about one minute or until the rice gives off a nutty aroma.  Add about one cup of the stock mixture, stirring constantly.

From here, you'll continue stirring the rice, adding stock about a half cup or so at a time whenever the liquid is entirely absorbed.  Expect to spend about 20 - 25 minutes at the stove, stirring. 

A lot of my friends scoff at the idea of being "stuck" at the stove for 20 minutes.  I think of it as a golden opportunity to pour myself a glass of wine, put on a little Count Basie and engage in a little cook-top jitterbug, or to plunk one of my kids on the counter next to me and hear all the details of their day, or to spend time with a friend in need of an ear. 

All told, the warm belly-snuggle flavor of turmeric, combined with the brightness of cilantro and the subtle sweetness of a super-ripe peach is pretty much the definition of early summer to me.

Peach Mango Brown Betty

Ah, the brown betty.  Why does something so astonishingly versatile, comforting and magical always get pigeon-holed as an apple dessert?

Last week, our basket was filled with some of the most darling little peaches I've ever seen, crammed full of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, alongside two of the biggest, rosiest mangoes.  For Memorial Day, I made some (spiked) strawberry lemonade with some frozen strawberries I had lingering in my freezer from back in the day when I thought I could tempt my eternally finnicky toddler to eat his fruits and veggies via smoothies (a failure).

Ingredients here:
10 small peaches (or 4 large ones)
2 mangoes, skinned
1 cup strawberries (fresh or frozen)
1/2 cup blueberries (fresh or frozen)            Really, just chop up some of your favorite fruits.
1 1/2 sticks butter, divided
1 cup brown sugar, divided
1/2 cup white sugar, divided
2 Tbs pumpkin pie spice
1 tsp salt
2 Tbs cacao nibs
1 1/2 cup coarse oatmeal
1/2 cup ground flax seeds
1/2 cup wheat flour

Preheat your oven to 350.  Chop your fruit into bite sized pieces and spread evenly around the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan.  Toss with white sugar, 1/4 cup of the brown sugar, and 1 Tbs pumpkin pie spice.  Chop 1/2 stick of butter into smaller pieces and scatter over the fruit (can be omitted, but the flavor is less rich).

In a medium bowl, melt the remaining butter.  Add the remaining ingredients and mix together until a dense, crumbly mixture is created.  Sprinkle over fruit and press down.

Bake for 30 minutes.  Serve with ice cream (we used strawberry).