Chicken Fingers and Waffle Fries

I would file this under my best child friendly meal. Our kids will eat almost anything but I know many parents are faced with picky eaters. As witnessed at a 5 year old birthday party this weekend; one little girl with plate of fruit salad, watermelon, carrot sticks and cucumber rounds and across from her another young lady with only a hot dog and two meatballs on her plate. I serve this when we have 4+ kids at the house, this way, each child can pick what best suits their palate. The kids love it, they can design their own meal and there is the added bonus of eating with your hands. There isn't much in the way of preparation either. You need some time to marinade the meat but aside from that it's just a lot of chopping and I find the kids like to help with that too.

The flank steak and marinade is my memory of what my neighbor Claudia used to serve me growing up. I quit eating meat at 13 but I continued to eat that flank steak as my only exception for a couple more years. For many reasons I’m lucky Claudia moved in next door. One of those reasons, besides some truly sentimental and personal reasons, is my culinary edification. She introduced me to my life long love affair with Indian food. I had my first Afghan meal with Claudia. Claudia served me my first stuffed grape leaf, my first ceviche and my first flank steak. I ate my first duck beak and fish liver with Claudia and probably a lot of other firsts I can’t remember. She will eat anything; she’s well travelled, has zero food prejudices, a fabulous appetite and a deep appreciation of other people’s cultures. And she grew a fig tree in her front yard, in Baltimore, exotic!

I can remember some epic eating adventures with Claudia. A recent trip to her home in Southern California resulted, accidentally, in a massive binge on about 2 lbs. of bulgogi and 2 refills of the banchan. However, the one that stands out the most is when we went to New York one weekend when I was in high school. She had a conference but we also had a mission to find a prom dress I had seen in a magazine. I remember the trip incredibly well and I still have the dress to prove it; I wore it last month as a matter of fact. While there, Claudia treated us to a six entree meal in Chinatown, including two orders of salt and pepper shrimp. We ate it all. And marveled at the fact that we did.

So below is my version of her flank steak. Eat it as it is alone or serve it as described below. And if you have kids they will love you for it.

Lettuce Wraps - Serves 4

1.5 pounds flank steak

1/2 cup low sodium soy sauce

2 tablespoons molasses

1 tablespoon honey

3 garlic cloves, smashed

4-5 slices fresh, peeled ginger

2 spring onions, sliced

1/2 red pepper, sliced

1 cup bean sprouts

2 spring onions sliced

3 carrots shaved or shredded

1 handful basil

1 handful cilantro

20 lettuce leaves, I use red leaf

1 cup rice cooked with 2 cups water

Notes: You can use any vegetables; I usually just use whatever I have in the vegetable drawer.

From Summer with Love

A fresh tomato is just about the best present you can give. Large, ripe and smelling like the yard it came from, homegrown tomatoes are a luxury. They need very little to shine, a sprinkling of salt, maybe a little pepper or a tiny drizzle of olive oil, but that’s about it.

Two summers ago Jim planted a small vegetable garden beside our tiny house. He planted zucchini, squash, various peppers and an okra plant that produced, ironically, a single okra. He also put in five tomato plants of various types (at this point in the story he’s quick to point out someone - me - removed all the plastic identifying placards - just so you know). Jim took the role of gardener very seriously and would spend about an hour everyday after work watering, fertilizing, measuring and admiring his work. Amazingly the squirrels and the birds (and the squatters next door) stayed away and the tomato plants thrived. Jim was very fruitful, extremely so that by the end of August it seemed every lunch consisted of tomato sandwiches, evening appetizers were fried green ones and pasta sauce galore clogged the freezer. By September we couldn’t give enough of them away. I said ‘I know it’s not right, but if I don’t see another tomato until next summer, I’ll be okay’. And I kept my word, for the most part.

This tomato pie has been with me forever, much like the eggplant meatballs or my rosemary salmon. It’s just one of those dishes I do. It is at its best when made at the end of summer with the tomatoes from your yard or someone’s yard and the basil that’s going to seed with big fat leaves. It’s not complicated and the ingredient list might even say ‘duh’ but it never fails to make people happy.

Tomato Pie - Serves 6-8 as a side dish

3-3.5 lbs. tomatoes (approximately 8)

1/2 cup + 2 tbsps. basil torn

8 oz. boccacini cut in half, or a larger mozzarella cubed

3/4 cup parmesan grated

3 tbsps. olive oil

1/2 tsp. garlic powder

salt + pepper

2 sheets pastry for a 9” pie

1 egg

Seed and chop the tomatoes in to 1/2” chunks, dry them on paper towels. Slice the boccacini in half and dry on paper towels as well. You will want to remove as much moisture from the ingredients as possible. Combine the first three ingredients, toss and sprinkle with olive oil, garlic powder, salt and pepper and toss again to coat. Preheat the oven to 350. whisk the egg. Line a pie pan with one sheet of pastry and pour pie filling in, top with remaining pie shell, crimp edges to close, brush top of pie with the egg wash and using a fork prick several times to vent. Place in oven and cook for approximately 45 minutes or until the crust is golden. Cool pie for 20 minutes prior to slicing.

Pig Food

So summers in Maryland you could count on; crabs, tomatoes and corn. Two things were a given with the corn, it would be Silver Queen, from Maryland or New Jersey, and it would be served with, in addition to butter, salt and pepper, Old Bay.

This corn usually came from a truck on the side of the road. There would be several ratty homemade signs leading up to the improvised roadside produce stand advertising ‘Silver Queen’ and its provenance. My dad would get excited and announce that we were about to pull over (so get ready) and whatever vegetable had been planned for dinner was now scrapped for the corn. In spite of the signs stating what it was and where it came from my dad would still interrogate the people selling it. Sometimes followed by a threat, ‘Well if it’s not Silver Queen, I’ll be back tomorrow to let you know.’

My Dad won’t eat any other corn. When I was a kid and would (gasp) ask about other corns he would proclaim ‘PIG FOOD!’ Followed by a whisper, as if letting you in on a dirty secret, ‘That yellow corn is what they feed pigs.’ Yellow corn = bacon. Getting louder, ‘You don’t want to eat it! Good God! PIG FOOD I tell you! Shit!’ So the impression was made on me that eating yellow corn was the same kind of no-no as picking your nose.

There are two methods for cooking this corn. Number one: remove the silk, not the husk, wrap husk back around the cob, soak it for several hours and cook it on the grill. Number two: boil it. As much as my dad did not want to eat pig food he also didn’t want to eat over cooked Silver Queen corn. Typical corn boiling scenario: My Dad: ‘I’m afraid you’re going to overcook the corn.’ My step-mom: ‘Well, do you want to cook the corn?’ ‘No, but I don’t want over cooked corn. Please Anita!’ Pause. ‘Jesus Christ.’ Some hand wringing. ‘Jim, you take over the corn.’ ‘No, no, that’s OK. YOU do the corn.’ Then he’d start to break a sweat at the thought of over cooked corn. ‘Just don’t over cook it.’ More pacing. “Goddamn it Anita, you’re overcooking the corn!’ At this point someone would remove the corn from the stove before the corn had a chance to consider being overcooked and before my Dad’s behavior teetered over to obsessive-insane.

I moved to Texas after college. I had just finished my first grocery shopping trip and I stepped outside to see a hand painted yellow and green truck selling nothing but corn on the cob with something on it that looked like Old Bay . I was immediately excited, ditched my cart and ran over to the truck. It wasn’t Silver Queen and that wasn’t Old Bay . It was pig food, with mayo, cheese and cayenne, an elote. Which I found to be a delicacy once I got over my Dad’s imposed food prejudices.

The irony here is recently Jim (my spouse) and I went out to dinner with Jim (my Dad) and my step-mom at their favorite Baltimore restaurant. Oddly, I guess in a fit of fashionableness, those elotes were on the menu in Maryland. ‘What are they?’ my Dad asked. Jim explained the traditional Mexican street food to him and my Dad in rare form acquiesced to trying something new. He asked the waiter ‘Is it Silver Queen?’ ‘No, but it is heirloom, organic and from the Chef’s garden.’ Skeptically, ‘Ok we’ll try, ONE.’ Well it came, it was placed in front of Jim (my spouse) and it had been, obviously, over cooked and the kernels were all different colors and too big and uneven like teeth needing braces. My Dad looked at it leaned in and whispered in Jim’s ear ‘It's pig food isn’t it? I thought so.’

If you are not familiar with Silver Queen corn it is a very sweet white corn and you will have to taste it to believe me. Those who have no had it cannot believe a corn could have such an inspiring taste and those who have had it understand that it is a very special treat.

The fact is I’m still brain washed and usually buy white corn but I have been adding something more than Old Bay to it. Jim (my spouse) is thrilled about this combination; I’m not sure I could talk my dad into it. And I have perfected the cooking time so you and your family do not need to have an intervention about the cooking of corn.

Enjoy your summer.

White Corn with Basil Lime Butter

4 ears of white corn

4 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature

1.5 teaspoons lime zest

1.5 teaspoons chopped basil

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Combine the butter, basil and lime zest. Boil the corn for 7 minutes, no more, no less. Remove and serve immediately with the butter.

Baby Cabbage

Jim’s kids will eat almost anything. I am so thankful we are not entrenched in the world of chicken fingers or one void of vegetables. These children are food enthusiasts at ages 8 and 4. They will chant for Korean BBQ from the back seat of the car. When asked which popsicle flavor they want I have heard this world weary response; “I don’t know, I’m kind of over chocolate sea salt.” One night Jim was working late and the three of us were going out for a date; I gave them their dining options: BBQ, Mexican or sushi. I thought for sure this would lead to an argument. I was wrong, it was unanimous, sushi. They pigged out on eel and ikura. But they are kids, peanut butter and jelly, mac and cheese, pizza and fluorescent frozen oddities from the ice cream man are also big hits. We can all enjoy such things occasionally.

One day this summer Jim’s son hollered up to our bedroom; ‘Hey Morgan will you make us those green things.’ ‘Green things?’ ‘Yeah, green, you know, they are green and round, like a little green cake.’ ‘Green and round?’ ‘Yeah.’ Still struggling. ‘Is it something I make, like actually make in to a dish or a vegetable I cook?’ ‘Vegetable. A green flower.’ Pause. ‘Brussels sprouts?’ ‘Yeah, will you make us some brussels sprouts?’

I like brussels sprouts. I’ve always liked brussels sprouts. I cut my teeth on boil a bag brussels sprouts swimming in butter sauce. If you eat cole slaw you will like brussels sprouts. Brussels sprouts get a bad reputation because so often they are boiled to death. Not dissimilar from those crayon flavored gray things I was served in the cafeteria, you know them, canned green beans. Quite different than a fresh green bean. Over cooked brussels sprouts to a kid is slimy baby cabbage brain. The texture is off and overcooked so is the flavor.

I make these brussels sprouts all the time. And I get many compliments on them, from brussels sprouts lovers and the skeptics. Jim was a skeptic, he is a convert now. I’ve served them without asking people if they like them, because really I cannot imagine not liking them, and I’ve gotten surprised comments like ‘Wow I didn’t know brussels sprouts tasted good!’

Maybe if you call them baby cabbage you can slide them past the unknowing and the uninitiated.

Brussels Sprouts with Truffle Oil - Serves 4-6 as a side dish

1 pound brussels sprouts, end trimmed and cut in half

Olive oil

1 teaspoon truffle oil

Sea salt (preferably something fancy like Maldon)

Preheat oven to 375. Clean and dry the brussels sprouts, get off as much of the water as possible. Oil a baking sheet, place the brussels sprout halves face down on the baking sheets. Lightly brush the tops with a scant amount of olive oil. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, toss with the truffle and sea salt.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel

I received a box via UPS this summer. I receive boxes all the time, every week, typically containing something for work: catalogs, lighting fixtures, lamps, flash drives, miscellaneous swag, the usual. But this box clearly contained something personal. The box itself had been delivered to a few other people before me and it had scratched out names and places on it. It was a little saggy and tired. I considered this box, what a mystery. I started to open it and then had the revelation that I could check the return address; it was from a man I did not know in South Carolina, a town I had heard of but never been to. As I opened it and I sifted through the crumpled ads from a Sunday newspaper it hit me right before I got to it, ‘Oh the apple peeler!’ I had purchased a hand crank apple peeler on eBay the week before and apparently promptly forgotten about it. My summertime daydreaming of fall foods led me to unconsciously go shopping.

This past spring Food and Wine published a recipe for sautéed rutabagas. Jim loves the whole pack of them; rutabagas, turnips, celery root, etc. I’m always looking for starch-like alternatives and this seemed to fit the bill. The recipe was called Shaved Rutabagas with Butter and Black Pepper, and that is the entire ingredient list except for some sea salt. The directions are very simple and they are exact as well, it directs to saute for 10 minutes, well, it took me 10 minutes until my dish looked like the one in the magazine. Although I only use one vegetable and the original recipe calls for two. I’ve made this dish a few times by shaving the rutabaga with my vegetable peeler, this results in 3/4” wide by 2” shavings. I was certainly in love with the dish but I wanted something more lacy, ribbon like, because I like vegetables in ribbon form (zucchini, carrots, asparagus). I also thought the crispiness ratio would be improved with less surface area and I wanted to twirl that rutabaga on to my fork. So this brings us back to the apple peeler.

After I had unpacked it from the mystery box and clamped it to the counter Jim tested it with a lemon. Jim didn’t get very far with that lemon besides removing an inch of zest and giving it 3 vampire like puncture marks, but we had mastered the mechanics of it! Last night we gave it a whirl (no pun intended).

Rutabaga Ribbons – Adapted from Food and Wine – Serves 4 as a side dish

1 rutabaga – peeled and shaved in to ribbons
½ stick of unsalted butter
Freshly ground black pepper
Sea salt to taste

Add the butter to a wide pan, heat over medium to medium-high heat, add rutabaga shavings, sautee for about 10 minutes until the edges become brown. Toss with salt and pepper.

Notes: Jim’s son has adopted the apple peeler as a toy of his. He enjoys playing with it by clamping it and unclamping and cranking the handle forward then backwards and back again and generally just staring at it quizically. So useless kitchen tool moniker be damned, it doubles as entertainment.

You Don’t Die Square

Yesterday I finished reading Frank Bruni’s Born Round. If you have read the book then you will understand the first thing on my mind this morning as I got out of bed was sesame noodles. The irony is I had purchased the book in the Portland Airport with a bowl of noodles from a newsstand. The noodles, looked like a less offensive choice for airplane dining, filling, not so unhealthy (carrots and broccoli and not swimming in sauce) and most important for a 5 hour flight, not stinky so to not offend my fellow passengers or get stuck with onion. Jim did not get so lucky with his chipotle chicken wrap. I was very pleased with my choice, Frank is quite right, they were comforting.

Sesame Noodles - Serves 4 - Adapted from Tyler Florence

6 ounces soba noodles

2 Tablespoons sesame oil

2 tablespoons peanut oil

3 garlic cloves minced

1” piece of ginger peeled and minced

1/3 cup green onions, green part only sliced

2 teaspoons red chili paste (I use the rooster)

1/2 cup chunky peanut butter

2 tablespoons brown sugar

3 tablespoons rice vinegar

1/4 cup low sodium soy sauce

juice of a lime

hot water

4 asparagus stalks, chopped in to small rounds and blanched

1 carrot, chopped and blanched

2 mushrooms, chopped

1/3 cup chopped cilantro

2-3 tablespoons toasted peanuts

Bring water a boil and cook the noodles for 3 minutes, remove from heat and rinse under cold water. Place the noodles on a towel to drain, toss with sesame oil and place aside. Heat peanut oil in a pan on medium heat, add in ginger, garlic, onions and chili paste and saute for about a minute or two. Reduce the heat to low and add in peanut butter, sugar, vinegar, lime juice and soy sauce stirring until the sauce becomes creamy and incorporated, keep the hot water on hand and add in to thin the sauce, Tyler recommends 6 tablespoons, I use closer to 4, the consistency is up to you. Add the noodles to the sauce and toss to coat, add in veggies and 3/4 of cilantro and mix again. Garnish with peanuts and remaining cilantro.

Love Letter

This meal came back to me very clearly today while running and listening to an old play list. Years prior I remembered running to that song as I approached the corners of Gibson and Fulton Terrace and I just stopped running and I cried. I realized that I was quite hopelessly in love with Jim whether I wanted to be or not. Being in love is like having the most awesome secret in the world, it’s shiny, tingly and it’s warm and it’s all yours and it makes everything and everyone more enjoyable. But clearly overwhelming.

A few days or weeks later I was running, yet again, and I wondered what does falling in love look/taste like? What does it look like on a plate; what do I want to eat that can celebrate this emotion? The first part was easy; it popped right into my head: scallops. I don’t know why but apparently falling in love feels like pan seared scallops. Scallops with lentils, baked ones, not too soupy, and nothing too earthy to season them. Falling in love certainly has something green on the plate, but nothing bland, there is something zippy about falling in love. This was the hard part, finally after a few miles, I had it! Falling in love is pan seared scallops with basil oil, baked lentils and roasted asparagus with thyme gremolata. My friend Jayme called while I was preparing dinner for myself and asked what I was doing ‘I’m preparing an ‘I’m falling in love with Jim dinner.’ ‘Ooohhh, what’s in that?’ I told her the menu. ‘I hope he realizes how lucky he is.’

The funny thing is I have never made this meal for Jim. I’ve certainly made some parts of the sum. I should but....

While writing this down I decided that asparagus sounded like the perfect accompaniment for hot weather but I wanted it with steak. Right now, being in love feels like steak, steak Jim will cook. Hopefully one of those pampered, grass fed, manicured and massaged $25 steaks from the meat guy at the East Atlanta Farmers’ Market.

Shaved Asparagus with lemon and parmesan - serves 4 as a side dish

1 lb. asparagus, ends trimmed and shaved

1.5 ounces shaved parmesan

1 tablespoon olive oil

Juice of 1 lemon

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

salt and pepper

Trim the ends of the asparagus and shave it with a paring knife. Heat oil in a pan add asparagus, saute for a minute and add in 1/2 lemon juice and 1/2 parsley, salt and pepper. Saute for another minute, remove from heat and toss with cheese and dress with remaining lemon juice and parsley.

Notes: Shaving asparagus is equal to peeling garlic or shrimp or husking corn in my mind as far as tedious kitchen chores are concerned. Hang in there, it’s worth it.

A Potato by any Other Name Would Not be as Sweet

The love of some foods must be hereditary. While my dad likes them my sweet potato fixation clearly comes form my mother's side. I don’t know a single one of my numerous southern aunts, uncles, cousins, 1^st. 2^nd. 3^rd and kissing that would turn away a sweet potato. Any sweet potato: french fried sweet potatoes, sweet potato gratin, sweet potato pie, tempura sweet potato, overcooked sweet potato, just like the man in the movie says.

When my Granny passed away several years ago a handful of people brought flowers but mainly people brought sacks of sweet potatoes. Granny and the sweet potatoes were carried to the gravesite by, at her request, her colorfully adorned family.

While reading Gourmet a few years ago I came across a recipe for sweet potatoes with smoked paprika. And if I didn’t say it out loud I certainly thought to myself ‘Eureka! That’s brilliant!’, or something like that. I use more paprika (and butter and cream) than the original recipe because I’m about as crazy for that stuff as much as the potatoes. I also dust the top with turbinado sugar, get out the kitchen torch and fire it up to create a slightly sweet crunch against the backdrop of the creamy smoky potatoes.

Mashed roasted sweet potatoes with smoked paprika – Serves 4

1 ½-2 lbs. sweet potatoes

6 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 teaspoons smoked paprika

1/2 teaspoon cayenne

1 1/4 teaspoon sea salt

2 tablespoons turbinado sugar (Sugar in the Raw)

Prick the potatoes all over with a fork and place in a 400° oven for approximately 45 minutes until they are soft to the touch like a ripe avocado. Peel, coarsely chop and place in a bowl with the cream, butter, paprika, salt and cayenne. Using a hand mixer blend at medium speed until the potatoes have a creamy consistency and most of the lumps are gone. This should make about 1 cup. This can be done a few hours in advance if needed. Fill (4) 4 ounce ramekins or a larger 7" ramekin with the potato mixture and return to the oven for 5-10 minutes to reheat potatoes. When they have been reheated sprinkle the sugar on top of the potatoes and using a kitchen torch heat the sugar so it forms a crunchy, brown crust. If you don’t have a torch you can place the ramekins under the broiler for 20-30 seconds. Be careful removing them from the oven, or alternatively place them on another baking sheet and then put them in the oven.