Ta dah! A Midwestern winner of the Great Shepherd’s Pie Contest

Well, after thousands of entries (if you count spam blog comments asking me to buy fake Louis Vuitton bags as entries), a winner of the Great Shepherd’s Pie Contest has been determined. I couldn’t have been happier with the results if I had chosen the winner myself. Because I did.

Congratulations, Joanna at Midwestern Bite! $30 in culinary goodies will soon arrive at your Midwestern front door! (as long as you message me with your address – DM on Twitter?)

I loved what Joanna brought to the table. What’s better than ground beef? Ham. Better than potato? Sweet potato. And not just any sweet potato, spiked sweet potato. This is the second blog post in a row where I’ve had to break into our liquor globe

Antique liquor globeAntique liquor globe 2for some whiskey, and you don’t hear me complaining. I especially respect that Joanna’s recipe doesn’t call for the alcohol to be boiled off as most do. Giddy up.

PS You too can get yourself a liquor globe, if you have an antique collecting Uncle-Russell-in-law who decides to move to Mexico and relieve himself of all his earthly possessions around the time you’re getting wedding gifts. He also generously filled it for us, even though he doesn’t drink. Good guy. He’s just decided to move back here again, though. I might have to hide the liquor globe in case he has a change of heart.

Anyway, I recreated Joanna’s pie tonight just to make sure it was delicious, and I wasn’t disappointed. I omitted the sugar due primarily to a New Year’s resolution that’s about to go the way of the Betamax (and VHS, now that I think about it), but since I’m still livin the dream… It was just fine without it. I also sautéed the mushrooms and beans because I didn’t have any pre-roasted, and threw in some leftover onions. Otherwise, I made it as written. And I agree with Joanna’s assessment – this pie tastes like the holidays, all in one dish. Delish! (I saw a tweet today that said that word annoyed a chef I follow, so cheers to him)

I only took one picture to prove I actually tried Joanna’s recipe and I took it pre-topping, which turned out to be for the best because I kind of over-roasted the sweet potato so there were some blackish bits, which didn’t make for a pretty puree. She often takes her pics outside, so here is my little tribute in a sorry excuse for some Toronto snow.

Shepherd's Pie Winner

But Joanna’s pictures kick the behind of mine (I typed “behind,” because I couldn’t figure out whether it was “but” or “butt”) around the block anyway, so check those out here.

Thanks for the blogging fun, Ms. Midwest!

Swimming with the fishes

Ever walk past a tank of swimming fish in a grocery store’s seafood department and think to yourself, “Who the heck actually buys one of those?”  Well, this week, for the benefit of my gazillions of weird food fans, the answer was, “I do!”

There’s something about asking for live food that seems both indulgent and disgusting. As I pointed at the ugly grey fish making sweet little kissy faces and ordered the poor grocery guy to chase him with the big net, I felt a pang of guilt that I would be responsible for taking him/her from a swimming state to a dinner plate, but I had to tell those sucky inner voices of mine to shut up.  I am a meat-eater after all, at almost every single meal, and it’s hypocritical if I get turned off just because I have to watch the inevitable dirty work go down in person.  I just saw someone’s Twitter description say, “If slaughterhouses had clear walls everyone would be vegetarian,” and although I’m sure this wasn’t intended to encourage me to watch my food getting killed, it did make me try to own the fact that I eat meat.  If I continue to do it.  Maybe the conclusion to this blog will be that I eventually become veggie.  But not just yet.

Because I am a food journalist, I’ll describe one more disturbing experience that I had in eating a live fish.  If you’re vegetarian, please turn away and wait for my next post.  Grocery guy took out my flopping fish…

…and put it on the back counter beside a big rubber mallet.  I was horrified, worried that I was about to see the fish get a violent whack on the head, but then I didn’t see it.  Grocery guy lopped off all the fins and gutted and scaled the fish with robot-like efficiency, handing it to me after only about fifteen seconds in a plastic bag with the head on and the rest of the body intact.  So I’m still left wondering – did I just miss the death blow, or did it not happen?  Closer and closer to veganism every day. But why does meat have to taste so good?

And my day just got better and better.  Now I had to prepare a whole fish for dinner that day (to take advantage of the “fresh meat”) and I was having friends over in the afternoon followed by piano lessons for my daughter which meant I wouldn’t be able to prep everything until after seven.  Let me tell you, I wouldn’t recommend lopping off a fish’s head…

…while entertaining three moms and their kids, and I didn’t – I hacked it off with a dull knife feeling like an axe murderer before they arrived, wrapping the rest in foil, stuffing it with garlic, and baking it incognito while we all sipped coffee (aka wine).

I chose a recipe from Jamie Oliver’s Meals in Minutes because I was so pressed for time.  Despite my adoration of Jamie Oliver, this cookbook kind of bugs me because the instructions are jumbled together to help home chefs with efficiency, popping out an entire meal at the end – I find this makes recipes difficult to modify and track at a glance. In this case, though, I needed Jamie’s help to throw a dinner together as quickly as possible, and I loved how it worked out.  I’ll copy the entire recipe below so that you can see how the book works, and then I’ll describe how I modified it to prep as much as possible ahead, throwing the rest together post-piano.  He includes a dessert and drink too, but I didn’t make those so I’ve omitted them.

Branzino (Recently Live Tilapia, for me) & Crispy Pancetta, Mashed Sweet Potatoes and Asian Greens

Mashed Sweet Potatoes

  • 1 ½ pounds sweet potatoes
  • 2 limes
  • A small bunch of cilantro
  • 2Tbsp mango chutney
  • Soy sauce

Greens

  • 1 fresh red chile
  • 1 clove garlic
  • Soy sauce
  • 1 lime
  • Sesame oil
  • 1 bunch asparagus
  • 1 head of broccoli

Branzino

  • 8 slices pancetta
  • 4 x 6-ounce branzino fillets, skin on, scaled and pin-boned (for me this was one tilapia fish plus a few supplemental fillets of whitefish)
  • 1Tsp fennel seeds
  • 1 lemon

Seasonings

  • Olive oil
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • Sea salt & black pepper

To Start Get all your ingredients and equipment ready.  Fill and boil the kettle.  Put a large saucepan with a lid and a large frying pan  on a medium heat.

Potatoes  Wash the sweet potatoes, trim off any gnarly bits, then stab them a few times with a knife.  Put in a large microwave-safe bowl, halve oneo f the limes and add to the bowl, then cover with a double layer of plastic wrap and microwave on full power for 12 minutes, or until cooked through.

Greens  Seed and finely chop the chile, adding half to a large serving bowl and add 2 tablespoons of soy sauce and ¼ to 1/3 cup of extra virgin olive oil.  Squeeze in the juice of 1 lime and add a splash of sesame oil.  Mix, taste, and adjust the soy sauce if needed.  Trim the asparagus stalks.  Quarter the head of the broccoli lengthways from the head to the base of the stalk.

Branzino  Put the pancetta into the frying pan with a drizzle of olive oil.  Keep an eye on it, turning when crispy.  [When the pancetta has become golden] remove it to a plate, leaving the fat in the pan.  Add the fish to the pan, skin side down.  Shake the pan and use a spatula to press the fillets flat for a few seconds.  Pound 1 teaspoon of fennel seeds in a pestle & mortar and scatter over the fish from a height with a pinch of salt & pepper.  Finely grate over the zest of 1 lemon, then cut the lemon into quarters and set aside.

Potatoes  Finely chop the cilantro on a large wooden cutting board, setting a few leaves aside for the garnish.  Add the mango chutney, a good splash of soy sauce, a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, the juice from ½ lime, and the reserved chopped chile.  Chop and mix everything together on the board.

Greens  Fill the large saucepan with boiling water and add a large pinch of salt.  Add the broccoli and asparagus, making sure they are completely submerged.  Put the lid on and turn the heat to high.

Branzino  Check the fish – once the skin is golden and crispy, turn the heat down to low – but have confidence to let the skin become good and crispy before reducing the heat.

Potatoes  Get the sweet potatoes out of the microwave and check they are cooked through, then use tongs to squeeze over the juice from the hot lime halves and discard them.  Carefully tip the sweet potatoes on top of the mango chutney mixture and use a knife or masher to chop and mash everything together, including the skins.  Season to taste, adding more fresh lime juice if needed.

Branzino  Take the pan of fish off the heat and flip the fillets over so they gently finish cooking on the flesh side.  Return the pancetta to the pan to warm through, then serve the fish and pancetta on top of the board of mashed potatoes.  Pop the lemon sedges on the side for squeezing and sprinkle over the reserved cilantro.  Take to the table.

Greens  Drain the broccoli and asparagus in a colander, then tip into the serving bowl with the dressing, quickly toss, and take to the table.

 

Results:  These were the best sweet potatoes I’ve had in my life!  They were spicy, though, so if you don’t like spice maybe substitute a sweet red pepper – I can never find red and green chiles, so I substituted a scotch bonnet pepper, and my hands were still burning through the night.  Also, I don’t like cooking in the microwave, especially with plastic wrap, so if you have enough time, be sure to boil or steam your potatoes instead.  But I’m definitely going to make a version of these sweet potatoes for Christmas dinner.  Delish.

But this post was about the fish.  So what I did differently from Jamie…  I wrapped my whole fish (bloody and slimy, drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with salt, stuffed with sliced garlic) in foil and baked it on a baking sheet at 400 for 35 minutes.  Doing this made it easy to pick apart for meat, which I added to the pancetta fat in the pan…

…sprinkling with crushed fennel seeds and lemon zest as Jamie suggests.  And this got me about 4 bites of meat!  I think if you buy tilapia fillets they probably come from monsters, not grocery store fish like mine.  I learned from this experience that swimming fish are mostly there for decoration.  Sorry fishy.  Anyway, I fried my pre-baked meat to crisp it up a little and followed the rest of the recipe, frying the pancetta and washing and cutting veg before my friends came, re-warming the pancetta and cooking everything else post-piano.

Phil loved it.  Jamie Oliver never disappoints.  But I can’t even tell you if there was a difference in taste due to fishy freshness because I had to mix it with more meat.  I won’t ask for a live fish again, but it was definitely “an experience” to cook one.  Rating:  5 Yums for Jamie’s recipe and cookbook, 2 Gags for cooking a live grocery store fish.

Wine Pairing

In honour of the NHL strike, I’ll choose one of winealign.com’s top chardonnay suggestions (which the site says pairs well with pan fried whitefish), Wayne Gretzky’s 2008 unoaked chardonnay, selling for $13.95 in Ontario.

Bystanders choke after the Jerusalem Artichoke

Is it wrong that I knowingly made my husband gassy purely for my own entertainment?

Let me backtrack a bit.  This week, my strange, dangerous food was the Jerusalem Artichoke.  They look like this:

As usual, I decided to eat them because I had no idea what they were.  I’ll have to ask my mother if I was always that kid everyone had to childproof against because I was always eating mysterious objects off the carpet.  At least now the fact that my foods are found in markets and grocery stores suggests that they’re edible.  Most of the time (see guava post).

Anyway, their name is kind of interesting.  It turns out that Jerusalem Artichokes (also called sunroot, sunchoke, earth apple, or topinambour) have nothing to do with Jerusalem or artichokes, but were named that because they are the tuber of a sunflower, which Italians call girasole; (kind of like Jerusalem) and because they taste kind of like an artichoke, although they’re not one.  Might be best to use one of their other names going forward.

And as for their taste?  I found this quote about them early on in my research, post-purchase, but pre-preparation:

“which way soever they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind within the body, thereby causing the belly to be pained and tormented, and are a meat more fit for swine than men.”  John Goodyer, 1621

Mmmmm, that’s good eatin.  Apparently they’re a great source of inulin, which we can’t digest, so it needs to be … exited.  So I fed some to my husband, because he was about to get on a plane.

Now you may find this mean.  You may wonder why I would knowingly sabotage my husband’s digestive system as he was about to enter a confined space with a few hundred innocent passengers.  Innocent children.  The elderly.

I’ve narrowed it down to the following three reasons:

  1. Gas in a confined space is funny, especially if you’re the one who doesn’t have to observe it in person.
  2. Phil always sniffs food I prepare for him before he eats it, partly because he thinks I’m frugal and that I push the boundaries of food freshness.  I admit to the former, but not the latter.  My bitterness about his mistrust for my cooking despite having cooked for him daily for well over eight years may have peeked through
  3. I was sure that he would tell me proud stories afterward about how he had successfully blamed his gas on someone else for the duration of the flight, and I wanted to see how well I knew him

But before you think I’m evil, I did read something that said that if you add an acid to your Jerusalem artichoke dish it reduces its “effects,” so I did this, preparing a salad in a vinaigrette.  Which brings me to reason #4:

4.  I wanted to see if vinegar really reduces the gaseous effects of the sunchoke

So you see, it was all done in the name of science.  Here’s the recipe I improvised based on what else was in my fridge:

Bold Sunchoke Salad with Truffle Vinaigrette (serves 2)

  • 2 small handfuls arugula or other greens
  • 1 handful fresh basil
  • 5 sunchokes, washed and quartered (no need to peel) (substitute radish if you can’t find)
  • 1 handful cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 6 small wedges brie cheese
  • Feta cheese, crumbled
  • 3Tbsp Truffle Balsamic Vinegar (or plain balsamic vinegar, but the truffle one is delicious)
  • 3Tbsp Olive Oil
  • Pinch of brown sugar
  • Salt and pepper

Directions:  Mix the arugula and basil together, adding sunchokes, tomatoes, brie, and topping with feta.  In a small bowl, whisk vinaigrette ingredients together with sugar, salt and pepper, and dress the salad.

Results:  This was a bold, fresh salad.  Flavourless salads bug me, especially if I’ve paid for one at a restaurant.  The truffle balsamic combined very well with the earthiness of the root veg.  Phil naively ate the whole thing.

After effects:  TBD.  Check in later for Phil’s commentary.  I thought I got off scot-free until that night when I was a bit “windy” (Isn’t that just a pretty little British term?), but that could have been because my daughter insisted on pizza to console herself after her daddy left on his flight.

Rating:  2 Yums for the salad, 1 Gag for the Jerusalem artichoke.  If you come across these at a market, make sure to “cut them loose” (FYI: Wiktionary says that’s a synonym for fart and I’m trying to be cute).  Substitute something else earthy like radish or beet in the salad and you’ll have a winner.

Beverage pairing:  Usually I choose a wine from winealign.com to go with my recipes, but in this case I believe the best pairing would be…

Hellova Jicama (HIH-cuh-muh)

I ran into a problem at the grocery store this week that I often do while buying foods for my blog, but this time it was taken to the extreme.

I was standing in line to pay for my full cart of kid yogurt, hotdogs, and odd dangerous foodie ingredients, trying to prevent my kids from strangling one another, when the acne ridden checkout teen lazily called, “override please, checkout 5,” into his phone/PA.  Everyone in line took a deep breath trying to ground themselves in patience they didn’t have, but who’s kidding who, I had it worst because I was the only one with kids.  Forget self-checkout and express lanes, there definitely needs to be a “hey I’ve got kids get me the frick out of here,” line.  Even if you don’t have kids you’d appreciate that for the second-hand good it would do you.

Anyway, it turns out that the old woman in front of me had a coupon for adult diapers that she thought would get her two packs for free without putting a single cent down when in fact it was only a BOGO, and the matter was complicated by the fact that she didn’t speak English.  The manager of the store took more than ten minutes to show up at the register to put her magic Alice in Wonderland key in to undo whatever the clerk had done before he was finally able to ring through all of my purchases that were splayed across the grocery belt, having prevented my escape previously.  I rolled my two children who were now blind from having poked one another’s eyes out up to the cash and got ready to pay, only to be faced with what always happens when I buy stuff for this website.  The clerk held this up…

…and said, “What is this?”

By now there were about eight people in line, and they were in no mood for me to run to where I had found it.  Luckily I usually take a picture of the sign posted above my strange food items so that I don’t forget what they are, so I was able to show him this, the sign that was posted over my round tuber veggie roots:

To which he said, “No, I know what Cocoes are.  These are not that.”

I’ll tell you, dear reader(s), that at least 60% of the time the sign posted above a strange veggie does not describe what it should.  You may have read in my blog previously that once I picked up horseradish that was labelled taro.  If it had been taro and I had prepared it as horseradish I would have poisoned my husband.  Thanks to google photos, he lived to tell the tale of how I make the best horseradish ever.  When I say I cook dangerously I mean it literally.

Anyway, when the guy didn’t know what my veggie was, I considered throwing it at him and telling him to forget it, as I watched his face wonder how badly I really needed something that I couldn’t identify.  But I stood my ground.  I’m telling you this story because even though I wanted to end my grocery store pain, I fought for my little cocoes that turned out (with the help of a senior grocery checker professional who said they were something that started with “j”) to actually be jicama.  And I want you to remember this story and do the same, the next time something won’t scan or your item is strange or your checker is incompetent.  You make them call that manager, and you cross your arms and look smug as the whole line swears at you over Twitter into their phones.

I say this because it turns out that jicama is a delicious wonder food, and so obviously I was rewarded for having had the patience of the Dalai Lama and the perseverance of Rosie MacLennan that day (the latter being our only gold medalist in these Olympic games, in the death defying art of the trampoline).

Jicama Hash Browns

  • 3 jicama, peeled and sliced into matchsticks
  • 1 small red onion, peeled and sliced thinly
  • 1Tbsp butter

Directions:  I talked so long telling an anti-climactic story that I’ll let you off easy with a simple recipe.  Melt the butter in a pan.  Sautee the onion until translucent over medium-high heat.  Add the jicama and continue to sautee until slightly brown, about 10 minutes.

Results

Shockingly good.  I “adapted” the recipe from one in the Diabetes Daily  which said that it’s a great low carb substitute for potatoes.  I just found it tasty!  When I tasted it raw, jicama was fresh, almost like an apple crossed with a potato (but less sweet), and cooked it tasted crispier than cooked potatoes.  I will stump grocery checkers with them on a regular basis and throw them into salads raw or cook them as a side dish.  Rating:  3 Yums

Just as an aside

On our recent vacation driving from Calgary to Kelowna we stopped at a rest stop candy store that had everything.  I was tempted to try these and write them up for the site, but I used the fact that I wouldn’t have to do anything to prepare them as an excuse not to:

The ugliest veggie ever

Sometimes when I think about the premise of my blog, I worry.  This isn’t a shock to anyone who knows me, because I worry about just about everything (unless it’s something that actually matters in which case I’m pretty calm and collected), but in this case I worry that I’ll run out of exotically strange foods to cook.  This week I planned to drive to a far away market to find a rare culinary treasure, but then I walked to the fruit market at the end of my street and found this…

…the vegetable version of the Borg sphere.  Prepare to be assimilated.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen celery roots (celeriac) in my grocery travels, but I’ve always passed them up because they’re pretty ugly.  And big.  And dirty.

I shouldn’t have been afraid though, because it was as easy to peel as a turnip or squash by hacking off its skin with my big knife, and then I was able to chop it up in a jiff.

The hideous thing was so big that I still have half of it left over to use in another meal, and apparently they keep for months.  They’re also low in calories and high in fibre and vitamins C, K, and phosphorous.

I found lots of nice recipes for celeriac soups or potato blends, but these made me feel wintry and I wasn’t sure that these would have made my overheated family very enthusiastic.  I ended up landing on an epicurious inspired recipe for risotto, although mine is quite different, below:

Celery root risotto with beet green pesto and bacon

Risotto

  • 4 strips of bacon
  • 2 leeks, whites and light green only, sliced and chopped into short strips
  • ½ ugly celeriac, peeled and chopped into bite sized chunks
  • 3/4C Arborio rice
  • 3C low sodium chicken stock
  • 1 small handful of parmesan

Directions:  Cook bacon in a deep frying pan until crispy and set aside.  Cook leeks and celeriac in bacon grease (I don’t fry in bacon grease often, so my heart won’t hate me for this.  If yours will be pissed at you, use olive oil instead and switch the bacon topping for sundried tomatoes) over medium heat with lid on until soft, about 10 minutes.  Add rice and cook 1 minute.  Add chicken stock 1 cup at a time, bringing to a boil and then simmering without lid until liquid is absorbed, stirring occasionally.  Stir in parmesan near end of cook time

Pesto

  • One good handful of beet or other greens
  • 1.5 handfuls of walnuts
  • 1.5 handfuls of parmesan
  • Stream of olive oil

 

 

Directions:  Pulse greens, nuts and parm in food processor until combined, but not powdery.  Add olive oil in a stream while processor is running until pesto becomes a paste

(You’ll see from my pics that I like my pesto a little drier to reduce oil used.  You might also notice something else about my oil picture if you look closely).

Top the risotto with the pesto and sprinkle with crumbles of bacon. Extra pesto can be used atop a meat accompaniment.

Results: 

I tried to stay away from a wintry dish, but this turned out to be a delicious comfort food.  What the heck.  Don’t we need to be comforted in the summer?  This would be a fantastic partner for ribs at a barbeque actually, having a really earthy flavour.  That’s it!  Ugly veggie risotto is the hot new alternative to picnic potato salad.

Rating:  2 yums.  Cook it when you need something to stick to your ribs, or to hang out with the pork ones you’re serving

Don’t be snobby, try kohlrabi

Here goes post #2 on my journey to cook unfamiliar, “dangerous,” foods that are new to our family.  Thanks for joining us on our adventures!

So the nicest thing about kohlrabi is that I’m pretty sure it would keep just about forever.  Apparently it was originally bred from cabbages, which keep forever, along with its other hearty cousins broccoli, collard greens, cauliflower, kale, and Brussels sprouts.  Cabbages are parents with pretty good genes, I must say, although the entire family can make one more than a little gassy.  Ugh.

Here is what kohlrabi looks like lounging on our cutting board…

And here is what it looks like smiling, pinched from the simplyrecipes.com website:

One of the other nice things about kohlrabi is that it tastes pretty good.  I cooked it simply, and I cooked all of it, bulbs and greens included (although separately).  Both parts of it were tasty even without using extravagant ingredients to dress them up.

I cooked the greens into a pesto using the following ingredients and recipe on the advice of the good bloggers at withforkandknife.com.  They used walnuts, though, which I swapped for pistachios.  We have a nut allergy in our house, so we don’t have many nuts kicking around, but I did happen to have some pistachios and I find they go well with pork.  I served the pesto over pork tenderloin after having roasted it in the oven only with olive oil, salt and pepper for about 35 minutes.

Kohlrabi Pesto

1 cup Kohlrabi greens, washed and dried
Small piece of parmesan (approx 2 tablespoons), roughly chopped
2 tablespoons pistachios OR toasted walnuts
1 clove of garlic, roughly chopped
1/4 cup olive oil

http://withforkandknife.com/2011/06/30/garlicky-pork-chop-with-kohlrabi-green-pesto/ 

 

As a veggie side for our pork, I peeled and sliced the kohlrabi bulbs according to the following recipe.  It was very basic, but sometimes a basic veggie is nice if you don’t have many other ingredients to draw from at the time.  It also might be nice for picky eaters.  I also served mashed potatoes to fill the bellies of my picky kids.

Braised Kohlrabi

2 tablespoons butter
3 to 4 medium kohlrabi
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup chicken broth, or to cover
1 tablespoon lemon juice

http://southernfood.about.com/od/vegetablerecipes/r/r80401f.htm

Overall impressions:  All good!  Both recipes were easy and quick to prepare.  The pesto was just as good, if not better than the standard basil pesto that I also usually make from scratch in my trusty food processor.  It had an extra kick somehow.  The kohlrabi pesto would be nice on pasta even though I used it over pork, and then the bulbs would keep for another meal weeks (months?) later.  As for the braised bulbs, I think I would choose another recipe next time, and I don’t think I would serve it for guests unless I was looking to be cautious of shy palates, and then I wouldn’t tell them it was kohlrabi because the name would scare them off!  The braised kohlrabi had the consistency of sauteed turnip, but shouldn’t be compared in flavour, being much softer.  My husband ate everything without a grumble, which is important for you to know.  He’s usually not grumbly, but he is quick to be skeptical about what he doesn’t know and doesn’t seek out food adventures.

One final interesting fact – according to Wikipedia, this versatile veggie is eaten three or four times per week by people living in Kashmir.  Apparently dishes using mutton are also popular there, so this might be a good pairing for a future meal.

Ratings:  3 yums for the pesto, but only 1 yum for the braised kohlrabi.