Month: April 2012

Black Cod with Citrus – Saffron – and, of course Morels

Once again, we’re doing the Morel thing. Just like the 3 days before, these recipes are part of the Marx Foods Morel Recipe contest, in which I received a package of dried morels from Marx to play around with in hopes of creating something delicious. Morels, like most fungi, lends its depth of flavors very well with fish. Today we’re using some sexy, silky Black Cod I picked up at the market this week, and pairing the morels with some other great seafood background singers… Saffron and Citrus. It’s a simple recipe that will earn you cheers and ticker tape parades (Hell, I bet they’ll even write sonnets about you) when you serve it to your guests or family. Black Cod Fillets with Saffron, Morels and Citrus Serves 2 Ingredients 2 – 6 Ounce Black Cod Fillets – Skin Removed 1 Tablespoon Light Oil Salt / Pepper to Taste For the sauce: 2 Tablespoons Butter 1/2 Cup Orange Juice 1/2 Teaspoon Orange Zest 1/2 Cup Chicken Stock 6 Morels (Fresh or re-hydrated) 1 Scallion 1 …

Merkel Yorkies

If you’re ever asked… No, self rising flour isn’t a suitable replacement for all purpose flour. And you know… I knew that as I dipped my shiny pristine measuring cup into the stout container on the counter. I’ll just consider it an object lesson… and move on. Today is Day 2 of Morel Love. Morels, or Merkels as they are referred to here in Appalachia, are those conical, filigreed fungi that are oh so famous this time of year. As you remember, I’m participating in the Marx Food Morel Recipe Contest in hopes of coming up with some new and different way to showcase this short seasoned delicacy. As part of the competition, I received a package of dried morels from Marx Food to work with. Morels are intense woodsy and nutty, and can stand up to quite a bit of competition in the pot. I decided today to make them even more delectable by incorporating them in a twist on a Yorkshire pudding. Morel Yorkies To be fair, I did remake these using the proper flour, but I forgot to snap any more pics before …

Do a little dance…Morel a little love…

… get down tonight. It’s been a week of dancing around the kitchen. The day of the car crash I received a package of dried Morels from Marx Foods, as part of their most current recipe contest. After taking a couple of days to screw my head back on straight, I dug in and got busy with the test kitchen on Sunday. I thought it would be a down and dirty quick recipe – shoot the thing back off to Marx Foods – and call it a day. The trick was to come up with something that’s never been done before. All the sexy things I pulled out of my um…head had either been done.. to death , or just didn’t really taste very exciting when it was all put together. Until I found my bottle of Jamesons in the pantry. Then like the A-Team.. it all came together… or, maybe it was just the liquor talking. Unfortunately, I’ve come up with 4 (yeah, that’s four) different recipes, and I really can’t decide which one …

Demons

Click! Whirrrr…. rr   rr r Bing!         We’re writing tonight? yes        Cool, are we finally talking about FTLB? no.. Why not? It’s.. complicated. It’s a heavily polarized subject at this point in time.. and nothing I say will do anything but inflame the issue…. and I don’t like doing conflict –  that’s why. Oh, then are we talking about our 2-year anniversary? Two years doing THIS! 2 WHOLE        YEARS  at the reins of Plate Fodder!, man.. aren’t you stoked? Eh, I don’t wanna… Why not? I don’t know… everyone does. I mean,  It’s a deal to me – but It just isn’t that big of a milestone and I doubt anyone else would be interested. You know, I get the excitement and I get the joy, but that isn’t predicated on anyone else following along. This is what I do… I cook.. I write…        You’re in a foul mood tonight… No, just pensive        about? No idea… just hit me earlier in …

Different is nice, but it sure isn’t pretty…

I know from “different”, I’ve been different all my life… we’re best pals. Third Child Syndrome really sort of lays the groundwork for that. The first child is the over achiever, the second gets the brains and mechanical ability, and the third…well, we get what’s left over in the gene soup … the propensity for compassion, artistic ability (did I tell you I played the flute in school?) a tough skin (obviously), and that needling little gene that makes crying at anything even remotely sentimental on the Hallmark Channel perfectly natural…. we’re a piece of work. Different has constant companion through numerous first dates (Oh, you’re different from the other guys I’ve got out with” – translation = You’re one step off from bizarre – and no, there wont be a second date… don’t even ask.) and introductions  (Wow, you’re a lot different from X’s other friends – I still haven’t figured that one out). It has pushed me to the background in group photos  ” You, yeah… you – step behind those pretty girls…and a little further back… …

Anger. …and car wreck pasta

It’s Wednesday, and that means it’s Jane’s Day Out. Every week, I take mom out to meet her regular group of friends for lunch. As usual, I drop her off, but instead of picking one of the nearby places to have my lunch and wait for them to finish, I had a picky little list of errands to run (light bulbs, sinus meds, phone bill). So, I head off and 2 blocks down the road, this happens… … I don’t exactly remember the particulars. I was driving – she launched into moving traffic – I swerved – she hit me. Period. I could postulate all day as to the hows and whys… but it really doesn’t matter. One accident – two cars totaled… no one seriously hurt. I should have been thankful for that, but… I was Angry… … at the driver for not looking … at myself for not being able to avoid the crash … at the motorists constantly asking what happened … at myself again for totaling Jane’s car … because I didn’t get any of the …

Rolled Pork Roast with Coriander Chutney

I prowl the international markets in the Atlanta area, a stalker – if you will. I rummage through the oddities of greenery in the fresh market – I poke at the slabs of petrified fish stacked like cords of funky hardwood – I jiggle the vats of condiments and kimchi trying to digest the ingredients – I’m entranced at the sparkling rows of  sauces, ointments, seasoning powders and poultices… my fingers tracing along the minuscule and confusing ingredient listings for that one component that one day will make that one stellar dish. On a recent foraging outing I came away with a bottle of very green Coriander Chutney. I had absolutely no idea what I’d use it for… but I didn’t already have one… and the pantry shelves still had a couple of inches that weren’t occupied. So, home it came – and on the shelf it went… next to the disturbing jar of MudFish (bought during a particularly vulnerable moment) and the plastic bottle of dried baby shrimp that sound like a maracas if you shake them while singing …

Mocha Torte with Butterscotch Filling – and the Easter Shoot

Many years ago I inherited a rabbit from a friend moving out to the West Coast. He was a three-foot American Checkered named Sebastian. He was the singular greatest animal I’ve ever owned. He was house trained – spent most of his time standing and walking on his hind legs… ate out of a swanky cat bowl… sat on the sofa with me and watched tv… entertained anyone that came over for dinner with clever tricks… prowled the house at night and squealed like a banshee when strangers came to the door. I couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t have rabbits. 12 years or so ago, I decided to have another go with a rabbit, a Black Silkie – Feijoada. She was a horror. I was bitten repeatedly (read that as daily… multiple times) , she chewed through every electrical – speaker – charger cord in the house – ate through 3 pairs of jeans – and took to stealing potatoes from the kitchen and hiding them under the sofa… where I’d find them months later when they began …

Curb Market Crawl – Stuff in a Bag

Last Week I realized I let myself get low on some rather important supplies. So Thursday I placed a call to my supplier and told him what I would be needing and arranged to pick it up on Saturday. He spotted me as soon as I walked in, and the conversation went something like this: “You know that stuff you wanted… I got it for you” “Yeah?” “Yeah, it’s under the counter in that paper bag. Mikey, grab that bag for this guy – It’s some stuff I’m holdin for him.” Mikey looks at me kinda curiously and says, “What is it?” “Never you mind. Just put it on the counter for him…. I’ll ring him up.” He looks at me a little sideways,  “You know, everybody’s almost out. You’re lucky I could get a hold of any that wasn’t all trash.” “So it’s good stuff?… no rocks and crap?” “Na, I checked out all the bags, they’re clean.” “Cool. Whadda I owe you this time?” “Three-fifty a bag, cause you know… it was kinda hard to …

Cookbook Sundays – Country Captain

I’m a firm believer that if it had not been for Southern Living magazines and cookbooks, the dinner party never would have existed in the South. Oh, we cooked.. we literally drug our collective titties through it – but the concept of the dinner party would have been relegated to those of finer standing in the community… with “help“. Southern Living came to life in 1966. They wrote of events, houses, decorating ideas – and to the adoration of housewives across the deep south – about food and entertaining. Even today, they are the most successful regional magazine in the country. Each month the pages would be packed with themed dinners, sweets, and quick meal ideas. Our fine Southern women (Jane, included) ate it up. Beginning in 1979, Southern Living began publishing collections of the recipes in volumes, as well as other cookbooks expanding on the dinner event themes. Southern Living Dinner & Supper Cookbook Jean Wickstrom – 1979 I love this book. It wraps my entire childhood between 292 pages. It’s quirky.. it’s terribly dated.. it has absolutely no concern for cholesterol …