Chicken Saltimbocca Turns Bleu




At minus ninety-four outside and a wind that snickers at seven layers of coat and pant like a wily gondola bandit does her next victim, sometimes you have to find your fun inside the names and hopeful vigor of indoor recipes.  Saltimbocca sounds foreign – let's try it.

I'm certain the Bolognese Italian villagers are not just now cooling their cheeks from frostbite but what other climates on earth call heatbite, whereby the sun warms them, sometimes in excess.  Sounds like

a neat area. In essence, the chicken saltimbocca calls for sliced-in-half and flattened (pounded, or rolling pinned) chicken breasts, sprinkled with chopped sage (surprisingly another "World's Healthiest Foods," as brain/memory enhancer and anti-inflammatory).

The cooked chicken is then supposed to take a layer of prosciutto and fontina cheese, finished by a light Marsala sauce.  As time ran short when making this, though, I began to see this recipe as a much thinner and finer version of the old classic chicken cordon bleu, so I simplified and probably kid-ified it along the way by pan frying my chicken breasts with a thin coating of parmesan herb seasoning, then dropping over that an already cooked pile of deli ham.  To seal it, I placed a round slice of provolone and let that melt over the contours of the meats, leaving a see-through, very zingy coating of cheese over all.  In our eating imaginations we took a very quick turn from the Italian to French villa (cordon bleu means 'blue ribbon' in French), but nobody seemed to mind the scene change.

Winter Daze

Steak and Potato



Parsnips might not be everybody's best friend, but lately I've been using them like any other

standard root vegetable. When a recipe like pot roast or a simple side of roasted root vegetables call for 'roots' I go ahead and add a few discs of parsnip.  Unlike carrots, celery, or even potatoes, the parsnip, because of its uniquely woody taste and texture, holds its crisp shape well and seems to release its flavor throughout a dish very noticeably.  The more parsnip you add to anything, needless to say, the more parsnipity it tastes; the less, the more subtle, but it's definitely still there.  This recipe was the favorite soup of the day for the adults in the house so far, but only "pretty good" according to young  

people. The process starts out fun: dice up into cubes one sweet potato (yam) and one parsnip, oiled and seasoned, and roast them on a pan .  This combination, after about ten minutes at 400, smells very rich and comforting; after 25 minutes, the little pieces soften and take on a crispy roasted texture

that holds up well once lowered into the soup pot.  While roots are roasting you briefly fry up a slab of flank steak, a unique cut that can be a bit tough but is also extremely tasty.  This is a perfect choice for

soup because you can cook it initially quite raw, knowing it's going to be heated another 5-10 minutes in boiling liquid; the well-seasoned, marinated meat holds up as chunks very well.  The steak and potatoes go into a base of sautéed onions, celery and garlic, then filled with beef broth.  The richness of the steak and broth combined with the aroma of the roots is enticing to say the least.  Tomato paste deepens the broth and texture.  I added water to liquify.  When spoonfuls light up the eyes of the adults anyway, you know this is one from the pages of 365 Days to lay a sticker on and add to the annual list.

Second Annual Salmon of the Year Award

Looking at a green tea bag string hang over the edge of your fry pan – the bag itself simmering in soy sauce, water and fresh peeled ginger – is an unusual sight, but well worthwhile, as the green tea adds just a dash of depth to this interesting approach to cooking salmon.  As I learned last year for my salmon of the year award winner soy and maple salmon, cutting your filets in short stacks (4 oz), really helps in the process of keeping some uniformity in cooking and consistency.   Green tea, soy and ginger is the just the beginning for this recipe though.  The crispness, healthiness and the green-ness ends up being impressive visually as well.

Scallions are called for in the simmering sauce; then it's broccoli florets and edamame.  Cilantro is asked for, but we usually skip this common ingredient when it shows up in the books mainly because nobody here likes it.  Finishing touches call for pepitas, which are just pumpkin seeds, and all to be set over a bed of quinoa, a beady cereal-like grain

that is considered another one of those super foods, high in fiber and nutrients.  Unlike salmon filets broiled, this sort of fry pan boil with lid leaves the filet so moist because it takes on the intermingling flavors of the tea, soy and ginger steam.  Although this recipe shows up in what is called the "Weeknight Cooking" section of the Food Network magazine because it is supposed to be simple and healthy, I can't help but think it is a dedication to the kind of fusion recipe that combines Pacific Northwest (Seattle) and Asian influences.  To think that the generally hurried weeknight cooker can capture this kind of almost restaurant-style approach to an entree shows how far the possibilities of domestic cooking has come. 

Meatball-Tortellini



A nice find on the cover of Food Network Magazine, this batch is quick, 35 mins active, very hardy,

and plenty good for you if you want it to be – maybe our favorite so far from the winter Quarry Lane soup of the day quest.  It was fun looking into tortellini some after making this recipe.  Tortellini, an

Italian invention, is nicknamed the "belly button" pasta for its shape and color.  Made by hand, cooks roll out a giant swatch of thin pasta, then cut it with a multi-head sharp roller

in order to create a grid pattern of rectangular pasta segments.  On a cold and blustery night in the midwest, it's fun to think about the small pasta shop

from the name brand of the box of tortellini above.  The pastas available to take home to your Bolognese villa to experiment with must be downright fun.

You can puree just about anything you want to stuff in it – spinach, squash, chicken, sausage – then add a little dollop in each rectangle, pick it up, fold it to a triangle, then wrap the two bottom ends around your finger, and you have what looks like a complicated noodle but is not.  The only refrigerated tortellini we had available at the store was chicken and herb, which happened to work well with the chicken broth (broth a must according to the Italian palate!).  The soup also calls for meatballs, one inch rounds made of your choice of meat, chopped garlic and egg for glue.  Carrots and spinach are asked for, but because we are on a kale kick, I substituted for the green superfood, kale, and it softened nicely in the chicken broth. I think I heard the faint murmur from children that we should eat it more often.

"Last night I followed a ski trail into the Lucky Boy Valley. It was dark and still, and the pines and spruces there almost met overhead.  During the day it had snowed, and the festooned trees were vague massed drifts against the stars.  Breathless after my run, I stopped to rest and listen.  In that snow-cushioned place there was no sound, no wind moaning in the branches, no life or movement of any kind."  – Sigurd Olson, "Wilderness Music"






Singing Wilderness

In among the great Sawbill, North Shore and Superior Trails, it doesn't take long to find the kind of remote-feeling snowy wilderness Olson talks about above.  Olson's was a deeper, more wild wilderness up in the Quetico, but for the suburban hiker used to the merging of neighborhood and trail, really only a few hundred yards into a north shore path enlivens the same mystery.

  It turns out I didn't have far to drive to find cross country skiing.  The Superior Hiking Trail 

hits the north shore highway at just about Lutsen proper, only a few miles down the road.  The problem is if you ski it along this stretch, you follow traffic noise as well.  So I turned back around to a cross  

country ski sign I had passed located no more than a quarter mile away from our turn-in to Carribou

Highlands Resort.  There was no name on this trail.  The small parking lot empty and unplowed. The trail itself had been groomed what looked like a couple of days ago though, and the all important two-track had been set, which turned the fresh snow powder to grease for skis.  One hard push off a foot and because the trail was flat, three, four, five feet forward depending.  A few small hills and dips after another and you begin to realize that you're the only one out here besides the phantoms of previously

crossed animals, their tracks shooting to and fro the safety of the inner forest.  When you stop to listen for the scuffling of small feet, or the bob of a limb in the wind, it is an unusual feeling to find the hush of nothing but silent pines. You know that you are no more than a mile from your own resort trail,

and no more than two hours away from dinner,   

but for the moment there is only you and the vague massed drifts against the open sky.

Holy Crepe



A bit high maintenance, yes, but when done, still hot, these thin slices of sweet dough can wrap around just about anything the imagination can come up with, like the commonly found recipe for spoons-full of gooey Nutella chocolate, or what we tried last weekend, summer berries and raspberry coulis.

I don't think we could ever forget the first time we were introduced to the idea of crepes as a sort of dessert / snack, in Juan Le Pins (Wan La Pohn) France,

near Antibes, right on that stretch of what is considered the gold coast region of the Mediterranean where strolling around the boardwalk under palms, up and down public and private beaches, and into town at the shops is in itself a sun soaked experience. We stopped at a Grand Marnier station

and ended up with a crepe that was devilish on so many fronts: sweet dough, liquid chocolate,

a hint of liquor, and swirls of whipped cream if wanted.  Some years later we were able to offer close to the same holy crepe experience to the kids in Seattle when we pilgrimaged to Pikes Place Market

at a neat little side cafe called Crepe de France, but it lacked the sunshine and...France.  If something is holy, well, then, you keep coming back to it though for sustenance and guidance; it was time to try our own.

Our recipe out of Eggs by Michel Roux called for the combination of flour, super fine sugar (unlike the terribly dull type I guess) eggs, milk and heavy cream, stirred "but not over stirred," and to sit for an hour until, at that point, you add some shavings of lemon zest (this eventually adds very distinct taste).  Cooking the crepes without specific crepe equipment is the trick.  Heat a small round fry pan to a bit lower than medium – don't want to burn on contact, but also need to cook quickly – and dollop dough in the center and quickly toss it around to the edges so to form a perfect round,

then let sit until small bubbles form.  Next, the flip, is by far the most difficult part for a new holy creper.  Because we didn't have a spatula quite thin or wide enough, we finally tried picking up the outer edges with our fingers and, as if with a small sheet, laying the crepe back down quickly into its spot before the weight of itself tore it apart.  Place each crepe on waxed paper and stack.  Serving warm seems to be a good idea.  Our berry coulis was in essence berry puree and sugar reduced in water, which, looking back at it, just didn't provide enough sweetness and the native raspberry tartness was somewhat overpowering.  For another batch, I think I would prepare a strawberry mixture

similar to that for shortcake and voila, you might have a thinner, richer, more citrusy version of the dessert classic. Drizzles of warmed Nutella over that might make it close to a religious experience.

Kale & White Bean Soup

Looking down the ingredients list for this recipe, I could see right away this was to be a water-based soup which highlighted a green, kale, and so might need some seasoning to make up for the lack of processed (and usually well seasoned) chicken stock.  The main substance of this soup is the combination of a can of white beans and surprisingly only one Yukon gold potato.  We happened to have on hand twice the recommended amount of turkey kielbasa sausage, one of the lightest yet tastiest meats you can find, and so chopped up cubes and added plenty to the simmering soup.  With the potato and beans combo, I thought a small addition of bacon might zing things up some….the recipe does call for a dash of red pepper flakes...but I tend to skip these when they show up in books because they can be way too potent if you catch one in your teeth.  Instead, I added maybe a cup's worth of thick cut

peppered bacon. Diced up in oil or sautéed onions, it carries a ton of smoky flavor  At this point a good soup balance was being struck: the simple and nearly tasteless bean and kale water base was getting a natural seasoning from two meats, plus dashes of salt.  Maybe more accurately, what looked like a very healthy soup was turning into a meaty favorite for tongue types of all kinds.  The kale itself,

although glaringly everywhere in bright green (potential kid-frightener) was mostly a textural addition that also just happens to carry with it one of those 'most healthy foods in the world' tags.  Nearly leading the list, kale does just about everything for you but get you up and out of bed in the morning – an anti-inflammatory, a cancer preventer, a detox-activator, and cardiovascular supporter, among other things.  This is a have your cake and eat it too soup, subtly aromatic, comforting, rich in substance, but also light and medicinal.  No wonder it shows up as the January 12 soup of the day.

Chicken and Noodles Skillet



I can't help but think that the chicken thigh is the most useful substantial ingredient for any home cook.

Add a layer of spice, set over oil for fourteen minutes, maybe a few chips of ham or bacon and a side of frozen green beans and you have a meal.  Skip the seasoning and let simmer in BBQ sauce would be just fine.  As you read through so many of the 'convenient cooking' books, like the Big Book of Weeknight Dinners, anywhere you see a recipe that asks for chicken, I've found just make it thighs instead, and the recipe should work fine.  This simple soup skillet

happens to ask for cut up chicken breasts, but because I swapped for thigh meat, it stayed moist throughout the various cooking stages: cook the thighs and onions first and cut-up into chunks, then add your liquids (broth and cream of chicken soup), carrots, broccoli, and a big batch of egg noodles.  Because much of the base ingredients are purposefully low on salt, it's possible that plenty of extra added salt is necessary to drive those noodles, veggies and soup.  I continued to add water from the soup can as the dish simmered so nothing dried.  Noodles can take a lot of moisture up until the point of fully cooked but seasoning then has to be re-adjusted.  Another time, I could see pioneering this simple recipe by adding bits of bacon, another veggie of choice, maybe edamame, corn, peas, or parmesan cheese to finish.

French-style Beef Stew





Sometimes it's fun to jump right into a semi-complicated recipe. Especially soup, because you know what the basics are and eventually everything gets tossed into liquid to soften anyway and it's hard to mess up. Other recipes, it's probably a good idea to 'put your stuff in place' first, then get cookin', just to stay in touch with the advised timing.

To be forced to quickly cut eight red potatoes while the meat is browning because the recipe called for eight red potatoes that should have been boiling in chicken stock five minutes ago is tough on a cook.

Other than a lot of country-style fresh ingredients, I assume what makes this stew French in name is mostly the Herbs de Provence, a common

seasoning mixture that consists of savory, marjoram, rosemary, thyme, oregano and a small shred of lavender.  The stew is also supposed to be spooned over a bowl of haricot verts (fancy for

slender green beans) before serving.  What I liked about this stew is that it called for round steak meat not just stew meat, to be cut up into little quarter inch pieces, simmered into sautéed onions and white wine for…an hour and half!  Obviously the goal in this patient initial step is to create a tender and deeply tasteful stew meat.  After the meat has soaked up its essence, then it is time to add kalamata olives, capers, (another Mediterranean touch I suppose), tomatoes and carrots…those potatoes...all to soften for at least half an hour.  American-style beef stew is quick, straight-forward, and good; French-style is fresh, more complicated (olives and capers might not work everybody) and good.