Bam! Memorial Day (Emeril's Spicy Root Beer and Bourbon Glazed Baby Back Ribs)

I’ve always found the story of Adam and Eve intriguing. Out of the dust of the earth, God fashioned a man. But to give him a proper companion, God uses a rib from Adam’s body, creating woman. The way I figure it, if a rib was important enough to be included in the story of mankind, we owe it to ourselves to enjoy a heaping pile of them every chance we can get. And hey, it’s a holiday weekend!

This is my favorite recipe for baby back ribs. The glaze is sweet and spicy, and the slow cooking method yields a fall-off-the-bone, meltingly tender quality that will leave you completely impressed with your mad cooking skills. Best served with a cold Newcastle and some homemade blue cheese dressing and celery sticks.


Emeril's Spicy Root Beer and Bourbon Glazed Baby Back Ribs

Toot Toot (the sound of my own horn)

I have to admit, it felt pretty damn great to walk into Barnes & Noble last week (while tracking down a good Posole recipe) and see this book on display in the cooking section:



Edible Communities recently published a coffee table book about local food across the country, and I was fortunate enough to contribute two stories to the content. Edible: A Celebration of Local Foods is a beautiful book, and contains dozens of inspiring stories of the dedicated small farmers, culinary artisans, and chefs who make it their business to feed us from the riches of our own land and waters. The book also includes a huge recipe section, not to mention the gorgeous photography characteristic of every Edible publication (there are now 65 publications across the country…and growing).

I could go on about the local food movement—about the positive impact on your local economy that results when each person dedicates even a small percentage of their monthly food dollar to local food; about the environmental impact of monocropping, GMO’s and shipping in produce from another hemisphere; about the complex and far superior flavors of an antique variety of apple grown just a few miles from your front door—but I hardly need to say all that. Edible Communities is already doing a great job in that capacity; and now you can read all about it in bookstores everywhere. Cheers!

Cinco de Mayo (Pozole Rojo)

Ever since I had my first taste of posole at El Barzon in Detroit last spring, I have been meaning to try a recipe from scratch at home. This version from Rick Bayless is definitely tasty; the rich pork broth is the color of wet terra cotta, made so by the mixture of toasted red ancho and guajillo chiles. Studded with shreds of pork and fluffly hominy, posole is a satisfying peasant soup. Similar to phở, another one of my favorite soups, posole is simple in and of itself, but you make it your own by adding the condiments you love the most—shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, cilantro, onion, oregano, avocado, or even fried pig's skin.

I ventured out to Avanza supermarket on South Federal Boulevard in search of the chiles, as well as pig’s head and feet, which are called for in the original recipe to lend rich flavor to the broth. When I asked the gentleman behind the meat counter if they had pig’s head, he simply replied, “Aisle 8.” Perplexed yet determined, I found the pig’s head in the frozen food aisle, but frankly the thought of letting a cabeza de Puerco thaw in my fridge for a couple days was less than appetizing. Luckily, the meat case back in the meat department had a whole pile of meaty bones designated “pork for posole,” so I settled for a large package of those to serve as the base for my soup. Bayless’ version also calls for using pig’s feet, allowing bits of cartilage and connective tissue to linger in the soup when served. While this certainly sounds authentic, it grosses out my husband (whose idea of authentic Mexican is Chipotle), so I opted to omit the trotters altogether in the interest of marital accord.

This soup takes a long time to make—not because it’s complicated, but because the stock needs to simmer away for hours in order to become properly flavored, and at least an hour or two more in order for the hominy to become tender once added to the pot. I guess this is why posole is typically served only on weekends in Mexican restaurants. This recipe is also very mild; if spice is what you crave, I suggest including the seeds when pureeing the toasted chiles (set them aside for pureeing but do not toast them; they will just burn), or adding hot sauce or chopped jalapeños to your selection of condiments. Nevertheless, I’m calling this venture a success. The recipe made enough to feed a small army, and the juxtaposition of warm soup and cool, crispy condiments is perfect to enjoy during a Colorado spring, when the sunny warm days give way to chilly evenings.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!





Posole Rojo
(from Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen)

4 quarts canned hominy, drained and rinsed
4 pounds meaty neck bones
1 ½ pounds lean, boneless pork shoulder in a single piece
4 large garlic cloves
4 large ancho chiles, stemmed, seeded and deveined
4 large guajillos chiles, stemmed, seeded and deveined
1 Tablespoon salt

Condiments
8-10 radishes, sliced thinly
1 ½ cup onion (finely chopped)
1/3 cup dried oregano
2-3 limes
15-20 crispy fried tortillas or tortilla chips

1. Make the broth. Place meaty bones and pork shoulder in a very large stock pot. Cover with seven quarts of water; add garlic. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer and allow so simmer for 2-3 hours. By this time the meat should be completely fork tender and falling off the bones.
2. Meanwhile, tear chiles into large, flat pieces. Toast them (one or two pieces at a time) in a heavy skillet over medium heat until they crackle and blister on both sides. Remove chiles to a large bowl, cover with boiling water. Submerge and soak for 30 minutes; drain. Place in a blender with ½ cup water and blend until smooth. Strain through a sieve into small bowl. Set aside.
3. Remove bones and pork from the stock; shred the meat with a fork, reserving the meat in a bowl and discarding bones, fat and cartilage.
4. Add hominy and pepper puree to the stock, bring back to a simmer and continue simmering for another hour or two, until the hominy has softened and “bloomed.”
5. To serve, place a bit of warmed, shredded pork meat into a bowl; ladle in soup. Garnish with condiments.

Lean, Mean and Green: Smoothie

In honor of Earth Day, I’m going green. A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of interviewing nutritional consultant Eloise Nelson for an assignment with Edible Front Range magazine. She showed me how to make an amazing smoothie, packed with fruits and vegetables. This recipe is a variation of hers**, and makes enough for two huge servings—one for breakfast, one for mid-morning snack. It makes you feel clean and light all day long, which is more than I can say for the platter of giant muffins lurking in your typical office break room.

Combine the following in a blender:
1 banana, peeled
1 apple, chopped (leave skin on)
1 pear, chopped (or, you can substitute 1 cup of fresh or frozen pineapple or berries)
1 cup coconut water (unsweetened)
1 cup cold water
2 T chia seeds (Yes, they are the same seeds used to sprout your Chia Pet...and you can find them in the bulk section of any health food store)

Blend to combine; allow to sit for 2 minutes (the chia seeds not only add protein and essential fatty acids, but act as a thickener). Then add:
1 cup tightly packed spinach leaves
2-4 kale leaves (stems removed, chopped)
2 T organic hemp protein powder
3-4 ice cubes

Blend again and serve. This smoothie is meant to be enjoyed the day you make it. Leftovers oxidize and lose their nutritional value quickly.

**from her book, the 14-Day Gourmet Cleanse and Rejuvenation Program

Flex Your Mussels

Sometimes life gets busy. Not so busy that I’ve resorted to Cheesy Blasters—ok, maybe I have spent a lunch or two in the home office with a Lean Pocket and some stale shiraz—but this is dinner we’re talking about. Everyone deserves a dinner good enough to right the day’s wrongs and usher us into our comfort zone (mine involves a big red couch, a second glass of wine and Mad Men on DVD).

Shellfish isn’t exactly in the forefront of our minds when it comes to the quick weeknight supper, but it really should be. In about the time it takes for pizza to be ordered and delivered, you can steam up a batch of these mussels in spicy tomato-cilantro broth. Serve them with a cold beer, a salad made from pre-bagged spring greens and a crusty baguette, perfect for sopping up the amazingly flavorful broth. It really is the perfect way to end the day, and much less regretful than, say, inhaling half a Domino’s pizza.

How to Prepare Mussels
There are certain culinary skills that seem mysterious and complicated, but are in fact shamefully easy. They are also the skills that you can talk about at a cocktail party (well, maybe just the kind of cocktail parties I like to go to) and come off looking like a badass in the kitchen. Preparing mussels is one of these many skills (a few others include properly using a chef’s knife, neatly carving a turkey, and making anything involving meringue). The first item of business is to scrub and debeard your mussels if necessary, which is not nearly as challenging or creepy as it sounds. The mussel’s “beard” consists of a fibrous material that the mussel uses to attach itself to rocks on the ocean bed. Harvested from the wild, the beards can be a little, shall we say, “wild and woolly”, and require more effort to remove. But most blue mussels we buy in the supermarket today are farm raised and cultured on ropes, so their beard (if any at all) is very small and easy to yank off. (As a side note, farm raised mussels are a sustainable source of seafood, and fairly inexpensive—quite fit to feed the hungry masses.)


You can buy them from the seafood department in your supermarket, found either loose on ice or in one-pound net bags. They should smell fresh and salty, like the ocean, and most of the shells should be closed tight. When you get them home, pick out any mussels that have shells slightly open and rap them smartly on the countertop. If the mussel closes back up, it’s alive and fine to eat. If it stays open, the mussel is already dead and should be tossed out. Give your mussels a quick rinse under cold running water (If I have extra time, I’ll give mine a soak in cool water—for up to an hour—just to wake them up a little and let them filter in some fresh water. But that is not necessary.) Now they are ready to be steamed, which takes only 4-5 minutes.


Mussels Steamed in Spicy Tomato-Cilantro Broth

1 ½ cups bottled clam juice
3 ripe tomatoes, seeded and chopped
¼ cup lime juice
3 Tablespoons hot pepper sauce
1 Tablespoon tomato paste
2 pounds mussels, scrubbed and debearded
5 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into ½" cubes
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
¾ cup thinly sliced green onions
Crusty bread

Bring first 5 ingredients to a boil in a large pot, stirring occasionally. Add mussels and butter. Cover and cook until mussels open, about 4 minutes (discard any mussels that do not open). Stir in cilantro and green onions. Season with salt and pepper. Divide among bowls and serve with crusty bread.

Fennel Prosciutto Salad with Pomegranate & Mint

It’s the same old story—on the first sixty-degree day of the New Year, I dig out a few items from my spring/summer wardrobe. I try (tug) on my shorts and skirts, let loose a string of expletives and vow to stop resting in the comforting arms of pot roast and mashed potatoes. With a new resolve, I start investigating fresher dishes that will keep my interest and shave off the layer of winter insulation, readying my legs and upper arms for the light of day. This salad is the first of many to come this season.



Fennel Prosciutto Salad with Pomegranate & Mint
(serves 4)

2 Fennel bulbs (green stems and fronds removed; cored and sliced very thinly)
1 large pomegranate, seeded
1 small bunch fresh mint
8 thin slices prosciutto

(Dressing)
Extra virgin olive oil
Mineola tangelo
Salt and pepper

In a medium bowl, combine sliced fennel with a drizzle of olive oil and the juice of one tangelo. Season lightly with salt and pepper, tossing to combine. For each serving, arrange a helping of fennel and two slices of prosciutto. Garnish generously with a handful of fresh mint leaves and pomegranate seeds.

(Prep Tip: Pomegranate juice has a way of staining everything—your clothes, cutting board, countertop—but separating the juicy ruby seeds from the white membrane doesn’t have to be a trial. Submerge the fruit in a bowl of water while seeding; the membrane will float to the top, the seeds sink to the bottom, and mess is minimized.)

Sunday Spanakopita and Phyllo School

Ah, the Greeks—fathers of democracy, inventors of the vending machine, and makers of my favorite comfort food, spanakopita. This delicious dish, made of layer upon layer of buttery phyllo and filled with a mixture of spinach and feta cheese, is savory and satisfying—perfect for a Sunday supper—and I have Ms. Donna to thank for sharing her family’s version with us many years ago. I’ve yet to taste a better recipe.



Ms. Donna is one of my mothers’ oldest and dearest friends. Their husbands worked together for over 15 years, and they had kids at the same time. We all lived just a few streets away from each other, and so many of my childhood memories involve sleepovers with Donnas’ girls, summers by the neighborhood pool, and holiday dinners spent around the same table. Growing up in super-homogenous South Carolina, Donna stuck out like a refreshingly sore thumb—spunky, loud and proud of her giant Greek-Armenian family. She made spanakopita for special meals like Thanksgiving or Easter supper, and even though I shunned green vegetables for most of my childhood, I took an exception to her spinach pie, smacking my lips as the crispy, buttered layers of phyllo crumbled down the front of my shirt.

She taught my mom how to make spanakopita, and my mom taught me. This dish is not that complicated to make, once you get over your fear of phyllo pastry. Phyllo dough can be very temperamental stuff; the translucent, paper-thin layers dry out fast, and once they do they crumble into pieces in your hand. But a little practice (and preparing a phyllo-friendly work station before you begin) will assure you success.

This is a perfect dish to make on a weekend afternoon, when you are relaxed and in no hurry. Just strap on an apron, pour yourself a glass of wine, channel your inner Greek goddess and enjoy the process of working with your hands to make something amazing for your plate.


Spanakopita

2-3 onions, chopped
3 bags fresh spinach, washed (remove stems if using mature spinach leaves)
6 eggs, beaten
8 oz. feta cheese, crumbled
8-16 oz. cottage cheese (small curd)
4 Tablespoons flour
Salt and pepper
1 package of phyllo dough (if purchased frozen, thaw overnight in refrigerator)
1 stick butter, melted
Olive oil

1. Heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Sauté onions in olive oil until translucent and softened. Do not brown them.

2. Turn heat to medium-high, and add spinach to pan. Stir and cook, allowing it to wilt.

3. Remove spinach and onions from heat, allowing it to cool for 5 minutes or so. Then, mix spinach and onions in a large bowl with the eggs, feta, cottage cheese and flour. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

4. Create a safe environment for your phyllo dough. Place a damp dish towel on the countertop. Over the towel, place a layer of plastic wrap. Open half the package of phyllo and lay it out on plastic wrap (place the other half of the package back in the fridge for now). Cover phyllo with its wrapping, another layer of plastic wrap and another damp dish towel. Keeping your phyllo covered and in a moist(ish) environment will keep your delicate layers from becoming a brittle, breaking mess.
NOTE: Before you start assembling the dish, your work station should include the phyllo (covered properly), a bowlful of melted butter, a pastry brush and a 13x9” baking pan. (The photos below show a square 8X8" pan; a half-recipe.)

5. To assemble, first brush the bottom and sides of the pan with butter. Create a single layer of phyllo (using 2-3 sheets, depending on their size) in the pan, going up the sides of the pan. (NOTE: You want layers overhanging the sides of the pan. Eventually, you’ll roll them up to make a sealed crust.) Brush that layer with butter, then make another layer of phyllo. Repeat this until you have 8-10 layers of phyllo laid. Butter top layer. This will use half the package of dough.

6. Add filling.

7. Place top layers on over filling, always remembering to brush on butter in between each new layer….add another 8-10 layers.

8. Similar to how you would seal a pie crust by rolling under the top and bottom crusts, do the same with the top and bottom crusts of the Spanakopita.

9. With a very sharp paring knife, score crust into equal pieces.

10. Bake at 350° F for 40 minutes or until golden brown and cooked through.

Sacrilege (OR: trimming the fat): Now imagine that I am typing this in a whisper. I whisper because I’m guessing that real Greeks would shame me for even suggesting what I am about to suggest. But I’m not Greek- so there. And there is no glory in a spare tire around my middle caused by copious amounts of buttered phyllo. So this is what I do: I alternate brushing one layer with butter, then spraying the next layer with Pam cooking spray, the next with butter, and so on. I have eaten my share of Spanakopita both ways, and let me assure you, you will never know the difference. You’ll just save yourself half the butter calories. Bada Bing.

Crumbled Goat's milk feta

Spinach

Wilted in the pan...

My phyllo-friendly workstation (notice the towel covering the phyllo sheets to the left of the pan)...

Filling's in...

Ready for the oven...

Ready to eat!