Fare for the family table
So dig this. A couple of weeks ago my father in-law, George, popped by with a dish of some "meatballs" that were the product of his latest kitchen experiment. Still slightly warm from the oven and fragrant as all get out, we couldn't wait to try his new goodies. I popped one in my mouth and thought immediately that it was a tender veal meatball that had been braised in a rich tomato sauce. Was I right?
No.
Can I be completely frank with you about something?
I'm not a big fan of tofu.
I know this news doesn't come as a big shock to those who have been with us here for a while, but I felt that it was time I just stated that fact unequivocally.
Why am I feeling the need to come clean about this right now?
This recipe is a twist on one I played with recently as a recipe test. The original, which was delicious, called for using garlic and oil cured black olives along with a mix of fresh herbs and the chicken. I didn't dare mess with the garlic (except to add even more), but was itching to put my newly created preserved lemons to use, and so came up with my own version of this easy, weeknight meal.
This dish is nothing short of a revelation. Much like the first time I made my own pâte feuilletée at Le Cordon Bleu and became a forever spoiled puff pastry snob, having made this polenta from fresh corn, I am seriously questioning whether I can ever make one from dried cornmeal again.
Bold words, I know, but I defy any of you out there to make this and not have the same thought run through your head. Yeah, it's that good.
My friend Devaki at Weave a Thousand Flavors made a dish similar to this a few months back and I was intrigued. When I saw Anne Burrell of Food Network fame have a go at it as well, I knew I had to give it a try, as both of these gals really know what they're doing in the kitchen.
I love playing with pestos, and over the years have made them with basil, arugula, cilantro, and spinach. The word pesto derives from the Italian "pistare" which means to pound or crush, and can be made with anything that can, yes you guessed it, be readily pounded or crushed. Most folks never think beyond basil and pine nuts when they think of pesto, but I encourage you to experiment a little with combinations of greens / herbs, nuts and cheeses that you like together, and come up with a few on your own.
How many of you out there have ever seen turkey tenderloins in your local market?
No?
Well I hadn't either until a few months back, but now that I've discovered them they are quickly becoming a frequent guest at our table. Many of the ones I'm seeing these days come pre-marinated in some sort of nasty chemical wash, and to those I urge you to say NO…… thank you very much. If you can find some plain ones though, pick them up and try this dish, you'll be hooked.
Like their petite cousins the chicken tenders, these meat spears are taken from the underside of the breast from a rarely used muscle that yields a terrifically tender piece of meat. They are naturally lean, but have a great texture and are an easy way to enjoy turkey without firing up a whole bird.
Unlike years past where we've cooked steaks, ribs and lobsters for our 4th of July feast, this year we planned to keep things a little simpler (but no less delicious), by grilling up some burgers and dogs, and steaming up some fresh ears of corn for our crowd.
Except, in the bustle and excitement of our 4th of July celebrations (also my sister's birthday!), I totally forgot about the corn and it sat chilling in bags in our basement while the party raged on above.
This is a dish that can be whipped up in no time at all, especially if you buy pre-made flat breads like we did when making these. We usually craft our own pizza dough when making pies at home, but the other day I was so pressed for time that I bought some flatbreads that were already made for this Middle Eastern flavored treat. These are great either baked in the oven, or finished on an outdoor grill if it's just too stinkin' hot to be inside. Serve them as a main course, or slice them into small wedges or squares for a great appetizer or cocktail party snack.
I've made homemade pestos for years, but have always done so on the fly, never from a recipe. A few handfuls of fresh basil here, some gratings of parmesan there, sometimes one garlic clove, sometimes two, and a liberal sprinkling of pine nuts. All of this blended with the best olive oil I had always delivered a good pesto, sometimes a great one, but one that was always a little different.
Sadly, one thing that never varied with these pestos was their tendency to lose their vibrant green color and turn an ugly army green-brown just hours after being made. To make matters worse, it wasn't just the color that oxidized, it was the flavor as well, and nothing I did, like coating the pesto with a thin layer of oil, or storing it with plastic wrap pressed tight to its surface seemed to halt its degradation.
