Salsa Verde

Summer is here and I'm overdue for some inspiration. By the time March rolls around, we have become bored with stews and soup. Since the weather started warming up, my culinary thoughts have turned to the bright and fresh flavors of seasonal produce. It's grilling season once again and I have banished my slow cooker to oblivion for the summer.

I haven't done anything new or experimental in the kitchen for months. Sure, I cook all the time, but I have not been pushing the boundaries. With a favorable forecast for the weekend, I was planning to grill some chicken and whatever early local produce I could find. The farmers markets have opened and on the way home from work on Friday, we went in search of the first pickings. I found some good looking local zucchini and my menu plans began to develop. I settled on grilled chicken thighs with zucchini, onions and some fresh asparagus I found at the grocery store. I decided to bathe the chicken and zucchini in salsa verde after it came off the grill.

Salsa verde just means green sauce and many different cultures have their own versions. The Italian salsa verde is parsley, garlic, anchovies, capers, onions, olive oil and vinegar. French sauce verte is more of a mayonnaise sauce flavored with tarragon and lemon. The German version features fresh herbs, sour cream, oil, vinegar and hard boiled eggs. In Argentina, they call their parsley, vinegar, garlic and red pepper flakes "chimichurri". In Indian cuisine, there is a green sauce made from mint, coriander and ginger. But the salsa verde I was after is the Mexican version made from tomatillos. If you've never seen a tomatillo before, imagine a green tomato with a paper husk. In fact, the tomatillo is a cousin of the tomato - both are members of the nightshade family. The tomatillo is an ancient fruit that was cultivated by Mayans and Aztecs and it is a staple of Mexican cuisine. They have become more accessible in recent years and chances are good that you can find them in your local grocery store.

I have never made salsa verde before, but it's one of my absolute favorites. Tomatillos have a tart flavor and fleshy texture and this style of salsa works really well with chicken and vegetables. When I make chicken enchiladas at home, I always use salsa verde, but I usually just buy a good quality jarred salsa. This time, I was charting some new territory and I was excited to give it a try. I bought six large tomatillos and two big poblano peppers. I've seen this sauce being made before and it can be prepared with fresh ingredients then cooked afterwards or it can start with cooked ingredients that get blended together. Since my plan was to grill, I decided to grill the ingredients to give it a lovely smokey flavor. But you know the old saying about the best laid plans, about an hour before I wanted to start the grill, ominous rain clouds started swirling in the sky and out of nowhere, thunderstorms appeared. My entire menu changed when I realized that grilling in the pouring rain was not an option. Oh well, plan B emerged and included steamed asparagus, roasted zucchini and pan-fried chicken. My green sauce would just have to be made indoors.

I started by turning the broiler on and moving the oven rack to the top. I cut a sweet onion in half and bathed it along with the poblano peppers in a light coating of olive oil, then put them on a sheet pan. Because grilling was out of the question, I figured broiling the peppers and onions would be the next best thing. The peppers need to be charred completely and moderately soft, which released the skin and makes them much easier to clean. While the broiler was heating up, I put the tomatillos in a shallow pan of water and put it over medium heat. Then I put the pan of peppers and onions in the oven. It took about 15 minutes for everything to cook and I turned and rotated the peppers and onions while they cooked to ensure they were charred on all sides. The tomatillos were soft, but not falling apart, so I moved them off the heat. The onions were slightly charred and mostly soft. The peppers were completely charred on all sides - I put them in a deep glass bowl and covered it tightly with plastic wrap. This encouraged the peppers to steam, which helps release the skin and allows it to peel right off.  I let everything cool for about half an hour to make it easier to handle.

With all the ingredients cooked and cooled, it was time to actually make this salsa verde. I cleaned the poblanos by peeling off the charred shin, opening up the pepper and rinsing out all the seeds. I put everything into the blender and turned my attention to seasoning. Now, most of the recipes I've seen for salsa verde include cilantro. I love cilantro, but my husband does not. In fact, there is an enzyme in the saliva of certain people that reacts with the cilantro and makes it taste like soap. You will never find cilantro in my kitchen, so my salsa had no herbs. Typically when I make tomato salsa, I like the classic Mexican flavors of chili powder and cumin, so I added a dash of each. I also like my salsa on the tart side and usually use the juice of one whole lime. Since the tomatillos have a naturally tart flavor, I only used half a lime and I added a generous pinch of salt and a healthy grinding of black pepper. When it comes to black pepper, always grind your own. The essential oils in peppercorns, which is where all the flavor comes from, tend to dissipate pretty quickly. If you buy pre-ground pepper, not only has it lost a lot of its flavor, but you also have no idea what's in it. It could be full of pencil shavings for all you know.  Buy whole peppercorns and grind it yourself for the absolute best flavor.

After blending, I adjusted the seasoning with a little extra salt and lime and I opened a bag of corn chips to see how this salsa tasted in an applied setting. It had a balanced flavor and a little bit of heat from the poblano peppers. Poblanos can be spicy or mild and you can't really tell how spicy they will be when you're buying them. If you are sensitive to heat, here's a tip that will work for any pepper. Cut off the stem end of the pepper and touch your tongue to the white pith. The heat of the pepper lives in its seeds and membranes. If the pepper is really hot, you'll know it right away. If you want a milder salsa, remove all the seeds and white pith and only use half. I served this salsa to my husband with a few chips before I started cooking dinner.  He gave it a thumbs up. It was absolutely yummy spooned over the zucchini and chicken, but this salsa is good on everything from tacos to pulled pork. Making your own salsa is easier than you think and much less expensive. Give it a try.

Soup Swap

A few months ago one of my favorite food writers Kathy Gunst released a new cookbook. With 60 different recipes, "Soup Swap"covers everything from basic broth preparation to vegetarian soups to a variety of Asian, Italian, Portuguese and French recipes. The book includes suggestions for sides, garnishes and toppings to bring your soup to the next level. My husband bought me a copy of “Soup Swap” for Hanukkah and I love it. It’s a must-have for all soup fans.

What I find most compelling about this book is the inspiration - the soup swap supper club that developed in Kathy's New England neighborhood during a particularly long and harsh winter.  When you live in New England, you become one with the changing seasons and you adapt your lifestyle to the ebb and flow of the climate. The long, cold, dark days of winter are perfect for cooking. I learned how to make bread during a particularly unforgiving winter when we lived in Concord, New Hampshire. I ask you - is there anything better than a steaming bowl of homemade soup and freshly baked bread on a freezing winter day? Soup is one of those things, like Sunday gravy or beef stew, that is best when made in a large quantity and it’s easy to get burned out on leftover soup long before you finish eating a batch. The good news is that soup is perfect for sharing. Kathy's group of soup-swappers met monthly during the winter and they soon found some unintended and delightful consequences. Winter became more tolerable, even exciting and challenging for those food-loving neighbors as they researched all kinds of soup recipes. Also, broth is high in nutrients and there are a lot of great soup recipes that have very little fat and are low in calories, so it was good for their diets. Most importantly, Kathy and her friends felt a renewed sense of community. Soup had brought them together, but it became about much more than tomato bisque and fish chowder. Kathy wrote an article for Yankee magazine about her soup-swap suppers which inspired others to start their own soup swaps and the idea for the cookbook was born. 

I love soup. I usually have at least two quarts of homemade chicken broth in my freezer in case the mood strikes me. Last year I brought a group of my neighbors together for a holiday party and I've been looking for a way to keep that good vibe going. The soup swap turned out to be the perfect vehicle. The idea is that everyone brings a big pot of soup and several to-go containers so that you can take samples of your favorites soups home with you. The goal is to leave the party with every kind of soup but the one you brought.

I got a great response to my soup swap invitation. Some neighbors brought soup, others brought bread, salad, dessert and wine, but they all brought a great attitude and willingness to try something new.  We had a selection of 10 soups that were all quite different and unique. One of the interesting things is that four of us used smoked turkey for our soups. I typically use a smoked turkey wing in my broth because it adds a depth of flavor and a rich, golden color. Turns out I am not alone. We all discovered that smoked turkey can be the soup-makers secret weapon. Here are the highlights of my March soup swap:

Matzo ball soup - This was my contribution and its standard fare in my house during the winter months. If you're a novice chicken brother maker, here is a good recipe. For the matzo balls, follow the directions on the back of the matzo meal container. Your matzo balls will be more fluffy and soft if you put all the liquid ingredients into a bowl and mix very thoroughly before you add the matzo meal. In fact, some recipes call for separating the eggs, beating the whites and folding them into the final mixture. That's an extra step I don't think is necessary. I've been using an immersion blender to beat my wet ingredients before adding the matzo meal with excellent results.  I also like a little fresh dill and parsley in my matzo balls. 

Lasagna soup - My neighbor Ellen made this delicious concoction. She browned some ground beef, garlic and onions in a big pot, added chicken broth, jarred tomato sauce, spices and dried pasta and let it cook until the pasta was done.  She served it with grated mozzarella cheese as a garnish.  This one was stick-to-your-ribs satisfying. I'm having it for lunch today. 

Lemon dill chicken soup - This hearty chicken soup was the contribution from my neighbor Adam. The put was filled with shredded chicken and it had a light, slightly lemony broth with lots of fresh dill, orzo pasta and some ginger that added a bit of warmth to the flavor. It was more exotic than your typical chicken soup. 

Thai carrot soup - My neighbor David brought the only completely vegetarian soup to the party and it was very well received. Made with vegetable broth, a little bit of peanut butter and fresh basil and mint for garnish, this carrot soup went down so easily.  It was certainly a hit and not just for vegetarians. 

Split pea soup - I had two neighbors bring their own versions of split pea soup.  Susan's soup was not a typical pureed split pea.  It was chunky and the pieces of vegetables were easily visible as well as chunks of kielbasa that made this soup really hearty. My neighbor Bonnie made her version of split pea soup based on a Swedish recipe. It was very thick and smooth, almost like porridge, and she used a smoked turkey leg to make her broth. It also had an interesting slightly sweet flavor that came from a secret ingredient - I am sworn not to divulge. 

Thanksgiving soup - My neighbor Yvonne blew everyone away with this original creation. It was a smoked turkey soup with lots of veggies and she made little stuffing balls as a garnish. The smoked turkey played a starring role, but those stuffing balls were a spectacular addition.

Bean soup - Surely bean soup is a classic vehicle for many different kinds of flavors. The two versions we had couldn't have been more different.  My neighbor Zilda is from Brazil and her black bean soup was sublime.  It was smooth as silk and she served it in small shot glasses with a sprinkling of crispy bacon and a pickled Brazilian Biquinho pepper on top. The peppers were not at all spicy but added a fabulous pop of vinegary freshness to this black bean soup.  Adrian's bean soup was more traditional and was made with smoked turkey tails and was faintly reminiscent of barbeque. 

Tuscan white bean soup - This one made by my neighbor Mike was full of chicken, white beans and kale, which might be my favorite vegetable for soup.  By itself, kale can be bitter and kind of stringy. But when added to soup, kale takes on a softness that is absolutely delightful and it adds a little bitterness to the rest of the soup. Mike served his Tuscan soup with garnishes of grated cheese and fresh parsley. 

Instead of big bowls, I put out small cups so everyone could have a taste without filling up on one kind of soup. When the soup swap was over and everyone took their crock pots home, I had a variety of soups in my fridge and nothing to clean up except a bunch of wine glasses. The soup swap is an excellent way to bring people together and I thank Kathy Gunst for sharing her inspiration and her recipes!   

Thoughts on Thanksgiving, part 3 - Leftovers

I love to entertain in my home. I love getting the house ready for a party. I love setting out a great spread of food. I love seeing a group of people having a great time in my living room. I also love leftovers. A fridge full of leftovers is the number one fringe benefit of having a party. It means you don't have to cook the next day!

In the case of Thanksgiving, the leftovers represent weeks worth of future meals.  The day after Thanksgiving turkey sandwich is almost as important as the holiday dinner itself.  I like mine with just turkey, mayo and cranberry sauce and the bread has to be soft and fluffy. Leftovers give both the food and the cook a second chance. Here are some of the things I did with my leftovers.

MASHED POTATO PATTIES:

Leftover mashed potatoes are extremely versatile.  They can be used to make gnocci, dumplings or other kinds of dough. They're great mixed with gravy or in a shepherds pie. I like to use mine for breakfast. I shaped my mashed potatoes into small patties. Then I grated a little fresh potato and pressed it into the outside of the patties to give them that fried potato crunch. I dusted them in flour, then sauteed them in a little bit of vegetable oil. I served my golden brown and crispy potato patties with fried eggs on top and kielbasa on the side. Nothing beats a runny-yolk egg on top of a crispy potato patty. Its heaven on a plate.

VEGGIE GRATIN

As an appetizer, I served a crudite of fresh fennel, carrots, celery and broccoli with a blue cheese dip. I made kale as a side with dinner and I also served some roasted shallots and fennel. The next day, I had several containers of different kinds of veggies in my fridge and I decided to combine a few of them in a cream sauce. I made a roux by cooking one tablespoon of flour with one tablespoon of butter over medium heat, just long enough to cook a little of the raw flour taste out. Then I added a cup of milk and whisked it into the roux. As soon as it came to the boil, it thickened nicely. I added a little grated sharp cheddar and seasoned it with a little cayenne pepper and freshly grated nutmeg and set it aside. I steamed the broccoli and tossed it together with a little kale, a few sliced roasted shallots and a few leftover mushrooms. Then I poured the cream sauce over it and popped it in the oven briefly. It was warm and satisfying and made great use of the leftover veggies.

TURKEY STOCK

For me, this is the absolute best part. I take all the scraps - the turkey carcass, wings and legs I don't intend to eat, carrots, celery, parsley, yellow onions with their skins, garlic cloves and pepper corns. I put everything in a big pot and cover it with water. Today my stock pot was completely filled to the brim. I bring the soup to a simmer and cook it over very low heat for a minimum of four hours. The longer you simmer the stock, the stronger it will be. Today's yield was three quarts, two of which went into the freezer for a future preparation. I placed one quart of the stock in the fridge and will finish it with vegetables and maybe noodles later in the week. It never hurts to keep your own stock in the freezer. In fact, I save all my chicken scraps in the freezer - backs, bones and wing tips - and when I get enough I make chicken stock.

When I was a kid, my mother always made turkey tetrazzini with the Thanksgiving leftovers. Her recipe featured canned cream of mushroom soup, which I consider to be the most repulsive, the most hideous and the most gag-o-licious thing you can buy in the grocery store. But made the right way, it could end up in my leftover repertoire. With leftovers, the sky is the limit. Give your dinner a second chance and let me know how it turns out.

Thoughts on Thanksgiving, part 2 - Pearl Onions

In my mind, Thanksgiving is defined by the family holiday dinners of my childhood. I grew up in suburban New Jersey about an hour away from New York City, where my parents grew up.  Both of my parents were second generation American Jews whose grandparents immigrated from eastern Europe in the late 1800's.  We celebrated Jewish holidays with local cousins and friends in New Jersey, but the biggest annual family gathering occurred at Thanksgiving. My mother would get up at the butt-crack of dawn to get the turkey in the oven. Grandma Bella, my maternal grandmother, would arrive at about 9:00 am with my great uncle Irvy in tow. Uncle Irvy would watch the entire Macy's Thanksgiving day parade while my mother and grandmother slaved away in the kitchen. At around midday, my paternal grandmother Grandma Dag would arrive with Aunt Barbara and Aunt Marion. Other friends and relatives would filter in during the afternoon. Sometimes my older siblings would bring their high school or college pals and sometimes we'd have a new wave of people just for dessert. It was a bit of a marathon.

The Thanksgiving dinner menu in my house always included certain dishes. Appetizers were always celery sticks smeared with cream cheese and green olives, sticky dates stuffed with half a walnut and rolled in sugar, a dish of canned jumbo black olives and a bowl of nuts in their shells. Of course, there was an enormous turkey and two kinds of cranberry sauce - whole berry and jelly straight out of the can sliced into perfect rounds. There was always bread stuffing made with lots of paprika and cooked inside the bird. There was always canned yams cooked in maple syrup and a few baked potatoes for the people who didn't like yams. We always had a pumpkin pie and an apple pie for dessert. 

The one dish that I associate most closely with Thanksgiving is pearl onions in cheese sauce. My mother would boil the tiny onions until they were soft, then bathe them in a white sauce flavored with Velveeta cheese. Yes.Velveeta. This was standard fare on the Goldstein family holiday table. It just wasn't Thanksgiving dinner without onions in cheese sauce. Funny thing about boiled onions, however, is the carnage they wreak as they pass through your GI track. If the weather was cooperative, it was not unusual to find people wandering out to the porch for a few minutes. I distinctly recall my mother letting a dainty, little utterance go while serving pie when I was about 9 or 10 years old. I was sitting next to her and with the animated conversation going on at the table, I was the only one who heard it. I gave her a big-eye look of amusement and she said "shhhhh" and winked at me. It was our little secret. 

When I got into high school and college, some of my friends became regulars at the Thanksgiving table. Onions in cheese sauce became my friend Jenny's favorite holiday side. During my college years I hosted a late night jazz show on the campus public radio station. My show started at 11 pm and I was scheduled to work on Thanksgiving day. Being the great friend that she is, Jenny agreed to accompany me to the radio station. We'd both eaten large helpings of onions in cheese sauce and on the way to the station we did our best to purge ourselves before spending two hours in a small windowless control room. But the onions are a worthy opponent. About half way through the show, I looked over at Jenny who was reading the newspaper. She was shaking with laughter and tears were rolling down her face. I was about 30 seconds away from doing a live break when she showed me the source of the hilarity - an ad for a home air filtration system that said "TOXIC ODOROUS AND OFFENSIVE GASSES?". As I opened the microphone, laughter poured out of me and I choked.

To make this dish, peel a couple bags of small pearl onions and boil them they are soft. In a small saucepan, melt two tablespoons of butter over medium heat and mix in two tablespoons of flour. Cook them together briefly, stirring constantly, until the flour begins to stick to the bottom of the pan. Add a cup and a half of whole milk and whisk them together until the mixture is smooth. As soon as the sauce comes to the boil, it will thicken. Don't boil it for too long, just a moment. Take the pot off the heat and add small cubes of Velveeta cheese until the sauce reaches your desired taste. It should take a little less than the smallest block of Velveeta you can buy. Of course, you can use another kind of melting cheese like Monterrey jack or mild cheddar, but the Velveeta is intertwined with my Thanksgiving memories. 

My brother long ago forbade the serving of onions in cheese sauce at his holiday table and I have to admit that I can no longer tolerate them either. I did serve roasted shallots this year, but its not the same. Maybe you can carry this tradition forward in our honor. Just make sure the back porch is ready for company. 

Thoughts on Thanksgiving, part 1

It is the day after Thanksgiving, I write a food blog and I haven't posted anything about my dinner. Doesn't that seem odd to you? Given that Thanksgiving is kind of the holy grail of foodie holidays, it certainly seems like a bad strategy not to share any recipes, photos or other inspiration for curious home cooks looking for ideas. I did, in fact, host Thanksgiving at my house with my family this year. It's the first time I've hosted Thanksgiving with my family since 1998. I did a ton of cooking over the past week, but captured very few photos and didn't take a single page of notes for this blog. I'll explain that in a moment,

Thanksgiving has always played a big role in my family life. When I was a kid, my mother hosted Thanksgiving and we usually had anywhere from 8 to 14 people at the table. My mother's menu included dishes that she only cooked for Thanksgiving. She had serving dishes that only came out for Thanksgiving. We used the good china and silver and crystal. It took us a week of cleaning and polishing and prepping to get ready for Thanksgiving. It was big hairy deal. In my teen years, we moved from New Jersey to Texas and being the outgoing and fearless person my mother was, she and my father made new friends. Our Thanksgiving dinners in Texas were somewhat interesting and eclectic with new people at the table every year. When two Russian families moved into town and joined the synagogue, they celebrated their first Thanksgiving dinner at my parents dining room table.  

I eventually moved to Dallas, about 5 hours by car from my folks house. My friend Paul was also living in Dallas and our families had known each other for many years. My parents would drive up to Dallas and we'd go to Paul's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Those are some of my favorite holiday memories, those huge, elaborate dinners. Paul's family is Sicilian and the meal included no less than five courses. We'd start with cocktails and appetizers - fresh boiled shrimp and all kinds of pickles, salads and dips. The actual dinner started with an antipasta of the best quality Italian sliced meats and cheeses, followed by a fresh, handmade pasta course, then turkey and all the sides. At this point many of us would be too full to sit upright and we'd take a break. There would be short naps in front of the football game and much rolling around on the floor rubbing our bellies. During this respite, there would be a big bowl of nuts, a platter of fruit and a bowl of sliced fennel on the table. People would stop by the table and nibble on roasted chestnuts or ice cold fennel, which helps settle the stomach. Finally, everyone would gather back at the table for dessert, coffee and cordials. It was during dessert one year that my father made what has become known as "the fart toast". In short, he emitted a well timed blast of flatus during the end of the meal toast and the story has become notorious in my family. 

Eventually, Paul's folks stopped traveling for the holidays. In 1998, I convinced my parents, sister and brother to come to my house for Thanksgiving. It was a small gathering, but I was so excited and honored to cook Thanksgiving dinner for my family. In the following years, all our lives changed dramatically. My mother passed, my brother Alan fell in love and moved to New Jersey, I met my future husband. My father remarried for a very brief period, I moved to New Hampshire and our family kind of splintered. My brothers and I started a new Thanksgiving tradition when we all lived relatively close to each other.  My brother Art lived in upstate New York and he hosted once; Alan hosted a couple of times while he lived in New Jersey. But when he and his wife moved back to Texas, we resumed Thanksgiving at his house with my dad and sister. 

For me, traveling for Thanksgiving had become the new normal. We were either at my brother's house in Austin, my in-laws house in Dallas/Ft. Worth or with my husband's extended family in New Jersey. Year after year, I'd sit in some airport and yearn to plan my own menu, to dazzle my family with superior kitchen skills and to make memories we would cherish for a lifetime. Year after year, I'd come home after Thanksgiving and cook a small turkey, just to have some leftovers in the fridge. With each passing year, the dream seemed to get farther out of reach, but when we moved to Pittsburgh a few years ago and bought a perfect house for entertaining, I started to think that maybe, one day, I'd actually be able to talk my brothers into coming to my house for Thanksgiving.  Art and I now live just a few hours apart and it didn't take much convincing to get Alan on board. Finally, it was my time.  

I cooked a great dinner. I brined and roasted a fresh 17 pound turkey, I made stuffing and roasted veggies and mashed potatoes. I baked a pumpkin cheesecake and sugar-free apple crumble for dessert. I used my grandmother's silverware and my mother-in-law's crystal. I had both my brothers and their wives here for three days and a good time was had by all, which brings me back to the beginning of this post. It struck me after everyone had left and I was making my day-after-Thanksgiving leftover turkey sandwich. There are only a couple of photos and no notes about my menu because I was busy living in the moment. I was busy making those memories that I will cherish forever. I unplugged. Food and cooking is a very primal way to show someone that you want to nourish them and feed their soul as well as their body. Food is a magic time machine that transports you back in time with pinpoint accuracy to relive emotional memories you associate with food. Food brings people together. This Thanksgiving, I was busy giving thanks for the relationships I have built, looking upon the smiling faces of my family gathered around the holiday table and celebrating with a giant, swinging bowl of mashed potatoes. 

And really, isn't that what its all about?