Merry Christmas Casserole

I love traditions. In fact, I don't just love them, I'm very militant about them. Like when we were driving up to my parent's house near Seattle from our Portland home, and Matt mentioned our stockings.

"Wait, did you forget to pack the stockings?" he asked, and I could see them hanging from our fireplace, and the thought crossing my mind--I need to remember to throw those in the suitcase--before forgetting all together.

"Not the stockings!" I cried out, mentally kicking myself in the knees. The same stocking I had woken up with my whole life, which in almost 10 years I had never, ever forgotten to pack, now would spend Christmas morning empty and alone.

If we weren't almost to Kelso, I probably would have turned back.

So when my parents suggested that we eat Christmas breakfast before we opened presents this year, when every other year our breakfast was after, I almost freaked out. This is not how things are done! Everyone pointed out that I'm way too anal retentive. I had no case to argue back.

But the tradition of a new breakfast casserole recipe (though the great Breakfast Enchilada Casserole recipe was so good it stuck around a few years) slowly mitigated my frustration. This year was a recipe from Mom's favorite bakery authority, King Arthur Flour. It's a freaking biscuits, gravy and eggs casserole. How the hell do you get any better than that? (Well, you can see that little bottle of sriracha poking out in the corner of the picture.... and Mom's collection of Fiestaware somehow makes everything taste better). Breakfast was delicious with a new Christmas casserole winner crowned, I actually got the recipe, and all of the presents were just as nice to open while not on an empty stomach. In fact, just maybe I can be convinced to follow the same schedule next year. Now that it's established and all. As long as I have my stocking back.

Perhaps a good new year's resolution would be to try and be less of a control freak. But then I would be less me. And that simply won't do.

Christmas 2012 Sausage Biscuit Breakfast Casserole

Biscuits:

6 tablespoons ( 3 oz) cold butter

3 cups (12 oz) unbleached self-rising flour

3/4 to 1 lb bulk breakfast sausage, cooked and drained:  save the fat and don't wash the skillet

3/4 to 1 cup (6-8 oz) cold buttermild or milk

Sauce:

2 tablespoons (1 oz) butter

2 tablespoons ( 1 oz) reserved fat from the sausage above

1 cup (5 1/2 oz) onions ( I had to leave this out due to onion haters in our family)

1/2 (2 1/2 oz) unbleached flour

3 cups (24 oz) milk

1 bay leaf

1 teaspoon parsley

1/2 teaspoon thyme

1/2 teaspoon ground sage

ground fresh pepper

Casserole:

1 to 2 cups cooked vegetables (optional- suggestions were broccoli, red and green pepper, spinach etc)  

8 large eggs, hard boiled- no more than 10 min, peeled and cut into quarters.

2 cups (8 oz) grated cheese of your choice- pepperjack, cheddar or mixed-divided.

For the biscuits, Cut the butter into the flour until its the size of small peas.  Stir in the cooked sausage.  Add the milk and stir until the dough comes together.  Turn it out onto a floured piece of parchment, pat it into a 1/2" piece with floured hands then cut into 8 to 10 pieces.  Pull the pieces apart so there's an inch of space between them.  ( You're going to crumble the biscuits anyway so no need to cut them.)  Bake for 12 to 14 minutes at 350 until golden brown.  Remove from oven and cool.

For the sauce:  In the same skillet the sausage was cooked in, melt the butter and add back 2 tablespoons of the fat from the cooked sausage.  ( If you don't have enough fat, increase the butter to 1/4 cup).  Add the onions and cook over medium heat stirring to scrape up any flavorful bits on the bottom of the pan.  When the onions are translucent, stir in the flour.  Add the milk 1/4 cup at a time, stirring between the additions until smooth.  When all the milk is in, add the bay leaf, parsley, thyme, sage and several healthy grinds from the peppermill.  Bring the sauce to a low simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 12 min.  

To make the casserole:  Butter a 3 quart casserole.  Break up half the cooked biscuits and spread them evenly in the bottom of the pan.  If you want to add any other vegetables, sprinkle them over the biscuits.  Place the cooked eggs over all next, then pour the sauce on top.  Sprinkle the sauce with the grated cheese ( you can do half the pan with pepperjack and other half with cheddar).  Crumble the remaining biscuits over the top.  

To bake:   If you're making the casserole ahead, cover and refrigerate for up to 24 hours before baking.  Bake in a preheated 350 oven for 45 min, right from the fridge.  If you're baking right after you assemble the dish, it will be done in 30 min.  Remove from the oven and serve warm.  

Yield 12 servings ( or 5 if its our family) - haha! Note from mom. Love her. Seriously though, you'd have to be some skinny little bird-eaters to stretch out  to 12.

Iron Chef Leftovers Breakfast for Dinner

Question: do you think holidays were invented so we got to play around with leftovers? The answer is no. But damn I get a kick out of it. This year was an extra challenge of what to do with all the damn food in my house, because Matt took off so quick after Thanksgiving. Re-purposing all the sides and appetizers into decent meals that I can slowly chip away at has taken an extra dose of creativity (and sadly, I didn't get creative enough to re-visit green bean casserole... RIP, cream of mushroom-soaked stringies).

But as I stared at the leftover stuffing, so delicious and yet so not appetizing all over again, I had a thought. Stuffing was just a few eggs away from being strata. They were practically cousins, my favorite breakfast dish and carby side. Worst case scenario I end up throwing what would end up in the garbage anyway back in there, and boil up some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Mmmmm, KMaC.

What, now I have no culinary cred? Whatever.

So I opened up the deli drawer and took out every strange odd and end I had from the appetizer round: deli salami sausage, a hunk of Sriracha Cheese Log, sharp cheddar. Mixed in with the stuffing, broken apart slightly in my hand (my stuffing was pretty crumbly, since I'm careful not to get it all soggy and Stove Top-like the first time around). A little garlic salt, some pepper, and into the casserole dish.

When it came out of the oven, a taste tipped me off that it had worked, but it still needed something. One addition to yank the spotlight away from the stuffing's sage, one of the most overpowering herbs you can chiffonade. My solution? A healthy dollop of homemade salsa, and the last of the real sour cream. Back to Light until Christmas... sigh.

Today for lunch I had leftovers of leftovers, which is basically Inception Leftovers. Pow.

Sorry this recipe is written so casually, but now that I'm here cooking by myself my habits have taken on this bizarre primitive forager quality.

Stuffing Strata
3 cups cold leftover stuffing
5 eggs
1 cup milk
1 cup's worth of miscellaneous cheese: goat cheese, cheese ball, shredded cheese, whatever's still hanging around
1/2 cup leftover salami, bacon.... uh, I don't know. You could use turkey if you had to, but that wouldn't be my first choice
Salt and pepper to taste
Salsa and sour cream to garnish

Whisk together the eggs and milk in a large mixing bowl. Fold in the stuffing, breaking up as you stir. Stir in cheese and other leftovers you've collected. Season with salt and pepper and pour into a Pyrex baking dish. Bake at 325 degrees for approximately 50 minutes, turning once during the baking process. Served topped with salsa and sour cream. Watch American Horror Story: Asylum and get really annoyed about how they decide to turn this season toward. Click over to Jon Stewart and marvel about how he's just turned 50 and still is as sexy as he was when you fell in love with him in 2000 when he was making fun of Al Gore and Stephen Colbert was still his underling. Remember to rinse your plate when you're done.

Thanksgiving Iron Chef Leftover Edition Round II

 

What an amazing Thanksgiving this year at the Blaneknhaus! Dare I say Best Tday Ever? Well, okay. I'll commit to that title. We've been prepping for days (weeks if you count the Pier One table linens!), and the holiday started at 6 a.m. when we got up to get the smoker going for the turkey. Lesson learned: just like with an oven, the "recommended" per-pound cooking time is grossly overstated. Next year we'll sleep in, since the supposed 11-hour smoke only took 6. Luckily we kept Ol' Smokey warm until dinner, where we were joined by longtime and new friends in what may be a new tradition--orphanage Thanksgiving. Nowhere else to go? Come to Hubbard!

Aside from the incredible, slow-smoked cherry and applewood turkey, there were some other fabulous recipe discoveries. Martha Stewart's Caramelized Onion and Bacon Dip was popular on the appetizer table, and the compound butter selection for the rolls was an everyday spoiler--why can't we have flavored butter choices everyday!? 

Instead of getting up before the sun for stupid Black Friday sales the next morning (or bailing right after dinner to follow this year's Screw Thanksgiving, Run Your Credit Card NOW GODDAMMIT marketing trend), we and our guests Brynne and Dan slept in, made spicy sriracha-cheddar waffles with apple butter syrup and bacon jam, and headed out for Willamette Valley wine tasting. I'm not sure how it started, but Black Friday's new haute snob tradition is wine tours the day after Thanksgiving. We battled wine limos and school buses full of tourists ("OMG we just HAVE to go to Erath!!") to visit Prive Vineyards and Anne Amie winery. We ended up in Carlton, an adorable-amazing, divinely-planned main street purely crafted out of tasting rooms and foodie boutiques. A half hour away, and I had no idea this oasis existed. Luckily there is still room in the world for holiday miracles.

One particular shop called out to me, as if the heavens had parted over its doors: The Republic of Jam. You know, dear readers, how much I cherish anything processed into a little jar. And this place didn't disappoint. Walls of creative flavors dreamed up and created in-house like Blueberry Syrah Black Pepper, Marionberry Sage, and Russian Plum (my new favorite creative condiment packed with a garlicky punch). I would have taken five of each, but I settled for the aforementioned Russian Plum and an Apricot Ginger.

Tonight, with a fridge overflowing with leftovers and a husband leaving for San Jose tomorrow (for a whole month!!!), I tried to use up as much as I could in the greatest Iron Chef Thanksgiving strategy there is: soup. I boiled the smoked turkey carcass to make a broth last night, and found a bag of Bob's Red Mill Grain and Bean Soup Mix in the pantry from my last visit. It's just dried beans, barley and other grains. Easy to recreate on your own--or even better, support the mission of Bob's Red Mill and buy a bag yourself! Don't forget a jar of Republic of Jam's Apricot Ginger. Balances out the smokiness of the turkey with a perfectly tart sweetness.

The result? A light dinner to balance out some of the post-pie guilt, and a pot's worth to freeze for some night where I don't have a smidge of the cooking motivation I just exerted this week. 

Smoked Turkey, Sweet Potato and Apricot-Ginger Soup

1 post-Thanksgiving turkey carcass (ours was smoked, but I'm sure a roasted turkey would be yummy to--albeit not as deeply flavored)

1 bag Bob's Red Mill Whole Grain and Bean Soup Mix (or three cup's worth of dried beans and grains of your choosing)

2 cups leftover Thanksgiving sweet potatoes
1 jar Republic of Jam Apricot Ginger jam
2 tbsp red curry paste
3 cloves garlic, mined
Salt and pepper to taste

The night before soup night, place the whole turkey carcass in a large Dutch oven or stock pot. Cover with water, bring to a boil, and then simmer for 4-6 hours. Cool, then fish out the bones and any unwanted skin/fat/gristle. Leave the meat in the broth, and add the beans and grains. Cool to room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.

Place the pot on the stove at least 4 hours before planning to eat. Add sweet potatoes, jam, curry paste, 3 cloves garlic, and salt and pepper. Stir and slowly simmer. Allow to simmer and marinate flavors for 4-6 hours, then serve with leftover rolls. I garnished the pretty bowl above with some leftover parsley and pepitas (pumpkin seeds I bought for a recipe I didn't end up making).

Craving Cacciatore

Can YOU remember the last time you had chicken cacciatore? I can't. I think I made it 100 years ago in my first apartment while I was making my way through my only cookbook, the Betty Crocker New Cookbook (of the checker cover and three-ring binder style). Ahh, I still remember the peanut butter noodle night that I insisted was delicious.

It was not.

Anyhow, the cacciatore I made back in the day was gross in multiple ways. Most importantly, leaving the skin on the chicken. During the slow braise it turns jello-like, never developing any sort of crust or crispiness necessary to making chicken skin palatable. The results were soggy pieces of chicken on noodles that were probably undercooked. Long story short, I haven't made the stuff in seven years.

But the thought of warm, lightly spicy chicken stew ladled over spaghetti has been tantalizing the back of my brain for a few weeks. Yesterday, with some terrible white wine in the fridge I've been wanting to use up, I decided to pull the trigger. I switched up this 1960's sort of recipe with the addition of sweet-heat Peppadew peppers, which livened up a sea of wilty bell peppers. Served with fresh baked bread, this warm and comforting dish was redemption from the awful sins of my cooking past.

Chicken Cacciatore
Olive oil
1 fryer chicken, cut into pieces and skinned
1 large onion, sliced
2 cups cremini mushrooms, stemmed and sliced
Salt and pepper to taste
2 sprigs rosemary
1 chiffonade of fresh basil
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dry red pepper flakes
2 cups tomato sauce
1/2 cup white wine (plus additional for deglazing)
1/2 cup water
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced
1 cup Peppadew peppers, sliced

1.	Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2.	Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat; add salt and pepper seasoned chicken and cook until browned on the outside. Remove to a bowl to capture the juices.
3.	Stir in onions and mushrooms and deglaze pan with a splash of white wine; cook for 5-6 minutes until soft. Add a big pinch of salt and pepper. Stir in garlic, rosemary, red pepper flakes, oregano, tomato sauce, wine and water.
4.	Place chicken pieces and any juices that have accumulated in the bowl on top of the cooked vegetables. Add more salt and pepper. Place pepper slices on top of the chicken.
5.	Cover and cook in the preheated oven for 1 hour 15 minutes.

Chicken, Cheddar and Checkers

For my birthday, I really wanted a new camera. My gorgeous Panasonic Lumix met a premature end this summer, and I've missed it like crazy. I've turned into an Instagram addict trying to salvage my crappy iPhone shots in the meantime. But replacement cameras are horrendously expensive, and I spent a LOT the last few weeks on nylons and pencil skirts. It's fall, after all. So I told Matt to get me something cheaper as a gift.

The result? WAFFLE IRON.

I have been wanting a waffle iron for three months, ever since describing this dream dish to my friend Lisa over cocktails. "I'm craving these cheddary, spicy waffles, with fried chicken and maple syrup." As I'm a PNW girl to the Puget Sound salty bones, I've never had the combination of crispy chicken, sweet waffle and maple syrup.

Scratch that. I DID have chicken and waffles at Skillet in Seattle last year. An almost-crepe, spiced fried chicken, arugula, and a peppery dressing. That was delicious. And now that I think about it, the root of my deep craving.

But it's nothing I've made before. I failed to register for a waffle iron when we were getting married, as I was distracted by Crate & Barrel's glassware department. Now that sweet and savory waffles are becoming en vogue, I feel awfully left out.

So! Tonight, I tried out the recipe that was gestating in my brain. I followed the manual instructions, avoiding the temptation to overfill the little squares. Matt was especially skeptical, as per usual.

Then we ate them. And I squealed with pure, serendipitous joy. Sweet! Salty! Crispy! Cheesy! Spicy heat! All of the very best sensations that can hit a tongue in one single bite.

Don't have a waffle iron? Go! Get one! So much happiness is to be had in your life! Got one? Get that paperweight out of your cabinet--it's not just breakfast anymore, bitches. Savor-y your waffles!

Cheddar-Sriracha Chicken and Waffles
4 chicken strips (I know, I lazed out. But it's a Monday, and I used the nice organic Panko-breaded kind. Still not good enough? Fry up some chicken, then.)
2 1/2 cups flour
4 tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3 eggs
2 cups milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup King Arthur Flour Vermont Cheddar Powder (don't have this in your pantry? Poor thing. In case of emergency, rip open box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and use the packet.)
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 tsp dried jalapeno
1 tsp sriracha (plus more for serving)
2 green onions, diced
Maple syrup for serving

Bake chicken. In meantime, make waffles.

Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, dried and regular cheese, jalapeno and salt.

In a bowl, beat the egg yolks, add the milk, oil and sriracha and then add the sifted dry ingredients. In a small bowl, beat the egg whites to a thick foam and add them gently to the dry mixture. Cook waffles according to maker instructions.

Serve waffles topped with chicken, sriracha, green onion and maple syrup.

Feel the Sizzle

Quick cook test! Two All-Clad pans. One just came out of a 450 degree oven, the other's been gently simmering on the stovetop. Which is which?

I failed this test earlier this week, while I was making Chicken with Roasted Tomato Sauce from Bon Appetit's August issue. The one with the luscious sliced heirloom tomatoes all over the cover. The multi-step brown-on-the-stovetop, roast-in-the-oven recipe required a pan that could take the heat from any angle on the stove. This is why my All-Clad pans are one of my most treasured items in our kitchen: no wood, no plastic, nothing that gets in the way of going into any heat source. Except the microwave, but let's not be stupid here. I'm getting to the stupid part.

After I browned the chicken in olive oil (I used leg and thigh quarters instead of the recipe's yawn-y boneless-skinless chicken breasts; they have more flavor, and the only difference is a couple minutes longer in the cooking time), I stuck them into the high-heat oven to cook through. After they came out the pan was needed back on the stovetop to de-glaze with balsamic vinegar and burst the cherry tomatoes. I removed the chicken and quickly became distracted: a salad needed croutons, Matt wanted to show me something funny on YouTube. When I turned back to the stove, I reached for my pan to turn and start the sauce...

SSSSZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

"OH MY GAWD!" I screeched, bit by a nuclear-hot pan in disguise. The sound of my skin baking made me want to vomit. Yes, this is a familiar sensation. I am a burn queen, starting with my first knuckle burn. It was my three-week stint working at McDonald's when I was 16, and I was flipping breakfast sausage patties on the skillet. Lifted my hand too high, and it nicked the super-hot oven top thing that folds down to speed cook the meat. Then there's the Great Texas Toast debacle, Pasta-pocalypse...

I might be slightly clumsy. Just a teensy bit.

I'm also a huge wiener. "Maybe we should go to the hospital," I whimpered, watching my right hand fingertips balloon in blisters.

"You'll be fine," Matt promised. This from a man who was practically unconscious with pain last October before he let me call an ambulance. But with Matt's sous assistance I brought the dish to the table, sauce and all, and it was gorgeous. Most highly recommended, as long as you remember oven mitts. The sauce is a versatile, tangy fusion of grassy olive oil and the tomato's delicate sweetness. Would be just as good on halibut steak. Crusty bread is a must with this. You don't want a drop of those juices going to waste.

Oh, and as for my burn victim recovery? Back to normal, except for a particularly gnarly burn blister behind my ring finger. Another scar for the books.

Chicken with Roasted Tomatoes and Herbs
from Bon Appetit

• 1 1/2 pounds cherry tomatoes or other small tomatoes on the vine
• 6 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 2 tablespoons herbes de Provence
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt plus more
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
• 1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breasts (I used leg and thigh quarters instead)
• 1 small shallot, minced
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 3 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley leaves (I used basil instead, since it was on my counter)
• 3 tablespoons fresh tarragon leaves

Preheat oven to 450°F. Combine tomatoes, 2 tablespoons oil, and herbes de Provence in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper; toss to coat. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large heavy ovenproof skillet until oil shimmers. Carefully add tomatoes to pan (oil may spatter). Transfer skillet to oven and roast, turning once, until tomatoes burst and give up some of their juices, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a medium bowl and drizzle with Worcestershire sauce.

Meanwhile, season chicken all over with 1 teaspoon salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat. Sear chicken on both sides until golden brown, 6–8 minutes. Transfer pan to oven and roast chicken until cooked through, 8–10 minutes. Transfer chicken to a cutting board and let rest for at least 5 minutes.

Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil to same skillet; heat over medium heat. Add shallot and cook, stirring often, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Deglaze pan with vinegar, scraping up browned bits from bottom of pan; add tomatoes and their juices and simmer until sauce is just beginning to thicken, about 1 minute. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper.

Slice chicken; divide among plates. Spoon tomatoes and sauce over; garnish with herbs.

When Not to Cook

This weekend, the Pacific Northwest hit 100 degrees for the first time this year. And I didn't cook. Part of the reason was that I went up to Seattle, and got cooked for by my mom (I know, be mad jealous). But the other was, it felt too hot to think about food, or want much of anything heavy.

The beautiful part of that conundrum (kinda hungry, totally hot, completely lethargic) is all of the ready-to-eat bounty slumping plump from the vines. Tomatoes, zucchini, cherries, apricots, peaches--the heat lasts only a few weeks tops, and so does the peak of the garden jewels, but at least they break together in a perfect natural moment.

While I was in Seattle I went to Metropolitan Market (like I almost always do), and they had all of the produce prizes in these cute little wooden baskets. I couldn't leave without a basket of sweet heirloom cherry tomatoes! Even though the sign said they were grown in Oregon, which probably means they were transported up to Tacoma's Proctor District from about a mile away from our house. The tomatoes in my own garden haven't quite yet popped. I figured they would work into just about everything I could make this week, including a roasted tomato and chicken dish from this month's Bon Appetit (stay tuned!).

This afternoon, when I got home, I sort-of unpacked. I took a nap. I didn't feel like touching the oven. So, when the Burgerville lunch I picked up wore off later in the evening, I used the cool, simple ingredients I had hanging around: tomatoes, a fat cucumber from the garden, and a can of delicious chunky tuna from the pantry. The result was tuna salad on pitas with hummus and cucumber dips.

Maybe it was the heat-induced insanity talking, but this was divine. The tomatoes were divine, and tasted like candies. The tuna salad was cool and tangy, spiked with the last of our bread and butter pickles from last summer. Next week will be time to can pickles again, as the steps and cycles of summer continue. We just seem a few steps closer to the earth this time of year. I love every moment of it.