In my family, when we travel, we all have assignments. Subjects to learn about, information to share with the group.  Yes, homework for vacation.  Laugh all you want, but it has made for some really interesting trips.  I am generally given the topic of food.  I search out restaurants, food customs, typical local fare and markets.  And the training of my family vacations has worn off.  I generally do quite a bit of research before I travel, and always research the food I should be on the lookout for.

Before I traveled to South Africa some years ago, I read about bobotie, a traditional dish with Cape Malay origins. The Cape Malay have East Asian ancestry, so the spices and curries of their heritage have translated into the broader realm of South African cooking. When I first arrived, I started asking, and the friend I was visiting and new friends I met told me that bobotie was really the sort of thing people cooked at home, and they weren’t sure I’d see it on a menu anywhere.  But they gave me a general description of the dish, with a lot of “well, my mom always makes it….”  I of course, took copious notes.  I did eventually have bobotie, as a lunch with a green salad at a game lodge, and served in a charming little ramekin at an elegant country inn in the Cape Winelands.  I picked up a couple of cookbooks that had bobotie recipes as well.  All this proved to me why bobotie is a favorite dish.  I recently spent a wonderful week with a group of South African friends, and when asked what they considered a true South African dish, they all said bobotie.  It reminded me how delicious this dish is, and how easy it is to make a flavorful, exotic meal that’s a departure from our standard fare.  I bet you’ll want to add it into regular meal rotation.

I have combined my preferred features from my bobotie research for my recipe, and adapted it a little to what’s readily available to me.  Some recipes I gathered use only lamb, or only beef, but I like the depth of a combined version. South Africa offers a wide and varied selection of chutneys, and I have been admonished that a good bobotie is all about a good chutney.  I find the easily accessible Major Grey type chutney a perfect choice.

Bobotie (South African Curried Beef and Lamb Casserole)

If you have a large oven-to-table casserole dish, you can make this in one pan.

2 small onions, finely diced

2 Tablespoons olive oil

1 pound ground lamb

1 pound ground beef

2 Tablespoons curry powder

3 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed, torn into cubes

1¼ cup buttermilk

1 cup seedless golden raisins

2 Tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 Tablespoon apricot jam

2 Tablespoons mango chutney (such as Major Grey)

3 large eggs

salt and pepper to taste

bay leaves

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Heat the oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add onion and sauté until soft and pale golden.  Stir in one Tablespoon curry powder and stir to combine.  Add lamb and beef and cook until just browned, breaking up the meat with a sturdy spatula.  Remove from heat to cool a little.

In a small bowl, place bread cubes and buttermilk.  Leave to soak for 5 minutes.  Using your clean hands, squeeze the bread to remove as much buttermilk as possible.  Reserve the remaining buttermilk.

Add the soaked bread, raisins, lemon juice, jam, chutney and the remaining Tablespoon of curry powder to the meat and onion mixture.  Add salt and pepper to taste and stir to mix completely. Transfer the meat mixture to an 5 quart inch casserole dish, spreading it out evenly.

Beat the eggs into the reserved buttermilk with a dash of salt and pepper.  Pour over the meat mixture in the casserole.  Stuff a few bay leaves into the meat.  If using fresh leaves, roll them up like cigars, dried ones can just be stuffed down into the mixture. Bake the bobotie for 30 minutes until the top is golden brown and set.

Serve warm, with additional mango chutney as an accompaniment.

Serves 6

I am a newcomer to Corned Beef and Cabbage.  I have generally enjoyed my corned beef deli sliced on a sandwich and my cabbage in slaw.  My father is a big fan of corned beef and cabbage, but somehow it hadn’t trickled down to me.  I had certainly thought about developing a recipe for St. Patrick’s Day, but hadn’t gotten around to it.  Then, this winter, I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner, one of those fun nights when everyone contributes an element to the meal. One guest brought the appetizer – thinly sliced corned beef, perfectly cooked, served with dark bread and a variety of mustards.  It was gone as quick as it was put out.  And of course, I begged her corned beef cooking secrets.  She laid out the boiling and steaming method laid out here, and I knew I had to give it a try.  Okay, I did veer of her path a little by adding beer and some spices, but this method creates a tender corned beef proclaimed by my dad “a triumph.”

While making my second test round of the dish, I happened to be reading the book 97 Orchard about immigrant families in New York bringing the traditions of their home countries to their adopted home.  As the corned beef boiled, I read the section on Irish cooking, and learned that, counter to the popular tale that corned beef and cabbage is a purely American creation, it is in fact an old Irish tradition, and that Irish corned beef was packed for long voyages across the Atlantic in the days of the Pilgrims.  I’ve added my own culinary heritage with the bacon-braised cabbage of the South, and the final product is a real treat. 

Corned Beef and Cabbage Cooked in Beer

1 3 – pound thin cut corned beef brisket

1 (12-ounce) bottle pale ale or beer

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon black peppercorns

1 teaspoon brown mustard seeds

1 medium head green cabbage

3 strips bacon, or 2 Tablespoons bacon grease

Discard any seasoning packet that comes with the corned beef. Rinse the corned beef and place in a large Dutch oven.  Pour in the beer and add enough water to cover the meat.  Drop in the bay leaves, peppercorns and mustard seeds.  Bring to a boil over medium heat, skimming off any scum that rises to the top.  Lower the heat to medium low, cover the pot and cook at a low boil for 3 hours, adding more water to cover the meat as needed.

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.  When the meat has boiled, remove it from the pan to the rack of a roasting try. I use the one that came with my oven, which has a nice deep try and a slotted top rack.  Reserve all the cooking liquid.  Fill the bottom tray with as much of the cooking liquid as will fit without touching the meat.  Cover the whole very tightly with foil, sealing well.  The meat is meant to steam, so you don’t want the steam to escape. Cook for 2 hours.

Meanwhile, pour the remaining cooking liquid into a bowl or large measuring jug and put in the fridge.  Rinse out the Dutch oven.

When the corned beef has steamed for two hours, remove it from the oven and leave it covered until ready to carve. 

About 30 minutes before you’re ready to serve, cook the cabbage.  Skim any fat off the top of the reserved cooking liquid from them meat. Cook the bacon strips in the Dutch oven until crispy, or simply melt the bacon fat over medium-high heat. When the bacon is cooked, remove it to paper towels to save for another use and discard all but about 2 Tablespoons of fat.  Prepare the cabbage by removing the dark, outer leaves from the cabbage.  Then cut the head in half and remove the core.  Quarter the cabbage and cut each quarter into strips about ¼ inch wide.  Drop the cabbage strips into the hot bacon fat, riffling it to separate the leaves.  Quickly stir the cabbage to coat it in the bacon grease, cover the pot, and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring halfway.  Pour in 1 – 1 ½ cups of the reserved cooking liquid, stir well, cover the pot and cook for about 10 minutes.  Feel free to cook the cabbage for more or less time, depending on how you like your cabbage – a little but crisp, or completely wilted.  Salt to taste.

When ready to serve, unwrap the meat, remove to a carving board.  Carefully cut off any fat from the top of the corned beef, then slice into thin slices.  Some of the meat may crumble off.  No worries, eat that as is or stir it into the cabbage.

Serves 6 -8, with some leftovers for sandwiches

Keep the St. Patrick’s Day spirit going with some Champ: Irish Mashed Potatoes with Green Onions or some Kiss Me, I’m Irish Cookies!

For most of my life, a taco was ground meat, a package of seasoning and hard shells from the box, with lots of cheese and maybe a little lettuce on top.  And I will tell you, I have nothing against that version.  But in the last few years, there has been a proliferation of Mexican restaurants in Memphis that serve what is considered more authentic Mexican food.  And I haven’t looked at a taco the same way again.  Real tacos, with homemade tortillas, complexly seasoned shredded meat, and a variety of fresh and unique toppings are a real revelation.

I said above that these restaurants serve what we are told is more authentic Mexican food, and I had no reason to doubt that, but no real proof either.  I visited Mexico with my family as a teenager and it was an amazing trip – Mexico City, Taxco and Cuernavaca.  I remember the food, particularly some very subtle and unique dishes, but I was not as adventurous then.  We ate mostly at restaurants – I wouldn’t have considered a taco at a roadside stand.  As far as I remember, I never tasted a real Mexican taco on that trip. 

But last year, I had the great good fortune to attend Food Blogger Camp in Ixtapa, Mexico.  And clearly, in the company of all those food bloggers, eating was our primary activity.  The resort offered a generous buffet at every meal, and I invariably made my way to the Mexican section and sampled some amazing food.  Tacos were a feature, with a lovely woman hand rolling and cooking tortillas, and a variety of meat fillings simmering away – from beef to pork to tongue to seafood – and an array of toppings to make your head spin.  One day, we ventured into the town of Zihautenjo for a market tour, and just to be sure, I sampled several tacos at market stalls.  I can hardly call myself an expert now, but I do know that the new breed of restaurants in Memphis do offer authentic Mexican tacos, and boy am I glad of it.

When I got home from camp, I set out to replicate a taco filling worthy of what I’d sampled in Mexico.  I started with some relatively complex procedures – roasting a variety of peppers, rehydrating dried ones, charring tomatoes, marinating meats, layering complex sauces with a multitude of ingredients, many of which required a trip to specialty Latin markets.  I had some great results, but in the end, realized these dishes where not something I’d put in regular rotation because of the time and effort.  And though I am glad I figured it out, what I was really after was an amazing dish for a casual, anytime taco night. So this is where I ended up.  Good meet, simmered in a smoky sauce quickly made from ingredients readily available. Saucy and smoky with warmth, not heat, this taco filling is a canvas for creativity in toppings.  I’ve made a list of suggestions, but it is up to you and your imagination.   I do make a special stop for fresh tortillas, and heat them quickly over the open burner on the stove.

Smoky Beef Tacos

4 pounds eye of round roast, excess fat removed (this may be 2 pieces of roast)

2 (8-ounce) cans tomato sauce

1 (3.5-ounce) can chipotle chiles in adobo, including the sauce

Juice of two limes

1 ½  teaspoon dried oregano, preferably Mexican

Handful of cilantro leaves

5 cloves garlic

Fresh corn tortillas

Suggested toppings:

Crumbled cotija or queso fresco cheese

Finely chopped cilantro

Sour cream or Mexican crema

Diced avocado

Diced fresh pineapple

Diced red onion

Chopped green onion

Fresh salsa

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Place all the sauce ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth.  Pour enough sauce in the bottom of a 5 quart Dutch oven to cover the bottom.  Place the roast in the pan and season with salt and pepper.  Pour over the remaining sauce.  Cover and place in the oven and cook for 3 hours, until the meat will shred easily with fork. 

Remove the meat to a bowl and shred using two forks.  Return the meat to the sauce in the pot and stir to coat.  Keep warm.

Heat the tortillas.  I think the best way to do this is to hold them over the open flame on the burner for a few seconds until they puff and go golden in spot, but you can also wrap them in a damp towel and heat them in a low oven.

 Serve the meat with the tortillas and a variety of toppings.

Will serve 8 hungry folks, with some extra meat leftover

Cooking with cola is a Southern tradition undoubtedly dates back to the days when the first glass bottles clinked onto the shelves of the Piggly Wiggly and the Jitney Jungle.  Frankly, in most parts of the South, cola means Atlanta’s own Coca-Cola, or as we call it Co-cola.  I love to cook with cola, from rich chocolaty co-cola cakes to ribs cooked in root beer.  I have even made red-eye gravy with co-cola instead of coffee. And the magnificent country hams of my childhood were often glazed sticky and black with co-cola.

As for drinking the full on sugar-rush of regular cola straight, it is not something I engage in.  Regular cola makes my teeth itch.  Since my transition into teenage girl-dom, I have followed the crowd, downing first TaB, the pink can my constant companion in those awkward teenage years, followed by an admitted lifelong addition to Diet Coke.  They know my name at Sonic.

But I will admit a fondness for Royal Crown Cola and not just because it is the perfect and fabled accompaniment to that other Southern treat, the Moon Pie.  My grandparents lived in a small town in Middle Tennessee, where there seemed to be a preponderance of RC Cola, why I don’t know.  Or maybe I just remember it that way, because the old-school drink vending machine at the farmers’ co-op in town dispensed RC from behind that narrow glass door that snapped open and closed so fast it took real skill to grab a bottle without getting slapped by the door.  The other option in that machine was Sun-Drop, an even yellower, even sweeter precursor to Mountain Dew.  Our grandfather would let us go to the co-op with him, and we would wonder around trying on old-man hats and marveling at the huge pairs of overalls and long johns on sale.  When Granddaddy needed to get down to business, he’d give us each a nickel (yes, the co-op machine took nickels) so we could go out to the soda machine – sometimes with a no Sun Drop warning.  We’d extract our drinks from the machine and sit on an old bench on the porch outside the co-op, swinging our legs and watching the world go by.  Sometimes, we’d be treated to a bag of salted peanuts to eat, or to pour into the bottle of RC.  And when we spent two weeks with or grandparents every summer to go to camp, my grandmother would tape quarters to the inside of the lid of our metal lunchboxes (I believe one of us had a Dukes of Hazard version) so we could get an RC out of the machine at lunch (but not Sun Drop).

So I wanted to create a recipe to pay tribute to my childhood fondness for Royal Crown Cola.  Something rich and comforting, like my memories.

Royal Crown Short Ribs

Okay, if you can’t get your hands on RC, any cola will do – as long as it is full-sugar.  No diet versions here. Serve these with creamy grits.

3 ½ – 4 pounds meaty short ribs

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

¼ cup bourbon

3 carrots, peeled

3 celery stalks

1 medium onion

6 cloves garlic

12 ounces tomato paste

3 cups Royal Crown cola (or your preferred brand)

2 cups water

3 bay leafs

7 – 8 sprigs of thyme, tied into a little bundle with kitchen string

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Season the short ribs liberally on both sides with kosher salt and black pepper.  Pour in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of a large, heavy Dutch oven. Brown the short ribs in the oil on all sides until nicely browned and some of the fat has rendered out.  Give this time to evenly brown the meat, 10 – 15 minutes.  Remove the browned ribs to a plate.  Don’t crowd the ribs, you may need to do this in batches. 

While the ribs are browning, cut the carrot, celery, onion and garlic into chunks and place them in a food processor.  Grind them to a paste, with no big chunks left.  Now you have a sofrito to season your sauce.

When the ribs are browned, discard the oil and return the pan to the heat.  Carefully pour in the bourbon and scrape up any brown bits from the bottom of the pot. Cook until the bourbon is mostly reduced, then add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and heat.  Add the vegetable paste, season well with salt and pepper and cook, stirring and scraping the bottom occasionally, until the vegetables are nicely browned and soft.  Add the tomato paste, stir well and cook until it begins to darken.  Pour in the cola and the water, and bring to a bubbling simmer.  Nestle the short ribs down into the sauce, doing your best to cover them with sauce.  You can add a bit more water if needed, just enough so the top of the ribs are not exposed.  Tuck the bay leaves and the thyme bundle down into the sauce, cover the pot and place in the oven.  Braise the ribs for 3 hours, checking occasionally to see that the sauce is not scorching on the bottom of the pot.  You can add a bit more water if it is.  Turn the ribs over in the sauce half-way through the cooking time.

When the ribs are ready, the meat will just peel away from the bones.  Remove the ribs from, pull away the bones and serve doused in the sauce.

Serves 4

There is magic in soup.  A beautiful kitchen alchemy in which a few simple ingredients are magically transformed into culinary precious treasure.  There is nothing to me more satisfying than hefting the weight of my good enameled cast-iron Dutch oven from its special nook and placing it on the burner, ready to start my experiments, ready to create.

Soup runs from the sublime to the simple, elegant to hearty, haute to homey.  I’ve been transported by a soup in Lisbon that tasted more of peas than a fresh pea picked from the vine in my garden, served with great pomp, the broth poured by a jacketed waiter to perfectly surround the tangle of pea shoots and a crème fraiche quenelle.  I have savored a broth so complex and rich, swimming with hand-pulled noodles and puddled with grease on the side of the road in Cambodia.  I have taken lessons in making traditional Moroccan harira from a cook in Marrakesch.  I have burned my mouth and singed my tongue on fiery rasam in Kerala.  I have perfected my own version of chicken noodle soup, packed with health-giving benefits.  And been more than comforted by a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich prepared for me by my mother on the downest of days.

But this is perhaps my truest expression of soup love, because it is only partly mine.  With very little guidance, my nieces created this soup with me in my kitchen.  They decided what ingredients were necessary, chopped and sautéed, grated and stirred, tasted and perfected.  It is everything they wanted in a soup – favorite tastes combined to create a tasty bowl of happy.  It isn’t fancy or pretty – but why should it be? It’s good, it’s us, it’s our special aunt and nieces creation. I transcribe it here from my niece’s notes – “stuff to put in” followed by “do this” and ending with “Now you have cheeseburger soup!”  A better recipe was never written.

Bacon Cheeseburger Soup

4 strips of bacon

1 pound ground beef

1 cup finely chopped onion (about 1 medium onion)

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 Tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

4 cups chicken broth

¼ cup all-purpose flour

1 ½ cup milk

2 cups grated cheddar cheese

2 Tablespoons yellow mustard

3 Tablespoons ketchup

Salt and pepper to taste

2 hamburger buns

Butter for the buns

Cook the bacon in a 5-quart Dutch oven until crispy, remove to paper towels to drain.  Add the ground beef to the pot with the bacon grease and cook until beginning to brown, breaking the meat into small pieces.  Add the chopped onion and garlic and cook until the onions are soft and the meat is cooked through.  Drain the fat from the pot, then return it to the heat. Stir in the Worcestershire sauce, then add the chicken broth and bring to the boil.  Reduce the heat to simmer.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together the milk and the flour until smooth.   While the soup is simmering, stir in the flour and milk and stir and simmer until the soup is slightly thickened.  Add the grated cheese a handful at a time, stirring to melt after each addition.  When all the cheese is incorporated, stir in the mustard and the ketchup and add salt and pepper to taste. Crumble the cooked bacon and stir into the soup. Cover and simmer the soup for 10 minutes.

While the soup is simmering, spread each side of the hamburger buns with butter, cut into thin strips and toast in a toaster oven or under the broiler until lightly toasty.  Serve the soup immediately, accompanied by the bun croutons.  If you’d like, you could top with extra crumbled bacon, pickle relish, more grated cheese – anything you like on your cheeseburger!

Makes 4 big bowls

I am tempted to say that this is an old family recipe, but my family has no connection with French Canadians whatsoever.  But it is a recipe my family has been making for years.  The story goes like this: my grandparents had tourtière on a trip to Canada, and enjoyed it so much, that my aunt wrote to Gourmet magazine to ask for a recipe.  Gourmet did not print her request in the magazine, but did send her a recipe.  It has been a family standard ever since.  It is actually a meal my brother and I would request – equally and with no ugly arguments.

After I was well and truly gone from her house, I would occasionally request that my mom make tourtière, but eventually she refused and handed the treasured recipe card over to me.  I have tinkered with it over the years, but it is essentially the same.  And it is amazing that so few simple ingredients produce such a richly flavored and delicious dish. Believe me, my photographic skills don’t do this pie justice, though it is all about flavor and not about looks. I have made this for friends, but no one else had ever heard of tourtière.  But I have come across the recipe since my early days making it, and read somewhere along the way that this is a traditional meal for French Canadians on Christmas Eve.  And I can totally see that.  It is easily made ahead, simple fare but richly flavored.  It is the kind of meal to eat with friends and family, in front of a fire, cozy and together.

There is a real added benefit to this recipe – it makes two pies.  One pie serves six, and trust me, everyone will want a generous slice, so you can feed twelve people out of the preparation time.  But even better, it freezes beautifully, so you can make it well ahead, or eat one pie and freeze one for later.  That’s what my mom did.  She always had one in the freezer in case we behaved especially well and were deserving of a treat.  On the original recipe card, my aunt even makes the notation – “many Canadians think it is best cooked, cooled, frozen and reheated.” 

And a note about pie crust.  Sometimes I am in the mood and make my own, but I have no problem with the bought, ready-rolled crusts available today, and it does make things easier and quicker.  If you plan to freeze the pie, consider making it in a foil pan, or make it in a tart pan with a removable bottom. Refrigerate until cold then slide it gently out of the tart pan onto the plastic wrap and foil and carefully wrap.

Tourtière

French Canadian Meat Pie

1 pound lean ground beef

1 pound ground pork

2 Tablespoons butter

1 Tablespoon olive oil

1 large onion

2 celery stalks

2 carrots

3 Tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1 bay leaf

1 cup hot water

salt

pepper

pastry for 2 double crust pies (your favorite recipe, or bought, ready-rolled)

1 egg

Finely chop the onion, carrot and celery (I do this in the food processor).  Melt the butter with the oil in a Dutch oven or large pot.  Add the vegetables and cook until soft and wilted, but not browned, about 7 minutes.  Add meats and cook until browned through and no longer pink, breaking up the meat.  Drain the fat thoroughly from the meat and return to the heat. Sprinkle over the flour and stir to coat.  The meat will start to stick together and no oil will be left in the pan.  Stir in the cinnamon, cloves, and bay leaf, crumbled very finely.  Add the hot water and stir well.  Lower the heat and simmer for 15 – 20 minutes.  The meat should be fragrant and cooked through with just a bare hint of sauce clinging to it.  If there is more fat rendered, add a bit more flour and stir and cook through.  Season generously to taste.  Cool completely, then chill in the refrigerator until cold.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Line two greased tart pans with removable bottoms or pie plates with pastry.  Fill each pastry with half the meat filling, spreading it to the edges. Top with a second pie crust, sealing the edges.  Cut slits in the top of the crust.  Mix the egg with a little water and brush over the pastry top.

Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes, lower the temperature to 350 degrees and cook an additional 35 – 40 minutes.  You want the pastry golden, but if it starts to get too brown, cover with foil.

To freeze, cool the pies completely.  Wrap them in plastic wrap tightly, then in foil.  The pies will keep for two days in the fridge or up to three months in the freezer. Unwrap the pie completely and place the pie plate on a baking sheet.  Bake until cooked through, about 25 minutes.  Let sit for a few minutes, slice and serve.  If frozen, thaw in the fridge overnight before re-heating.

Each pie serves 6

This year, for the first time, I noticed vendors at the local farmers market selling garlic scapes. Garlic scapes are the greens that shoot off the top of a variety of garlic.  They have a milder, garlicky flavor.  They are long, green, and have a bulbous head at the top.  I had heard of scapes, but never used them and as I am intrigued by anything garlic related, I bought a bunch.  With my first purchase, I made a pesto – just puréed scapes with olive oil, lemon juice and parmesan cheese (I just Googled a recipe).  I used it on pasta, on a pizza and on some toasted bread with a fried egg on top and it was delicious.  I picked up the next round intending to do the same thing, put holding those scapes, feeling the woody ends and craving Asian food, I figured maybe I could whip up something special and unique.  And I must say I was inordinately pleased with myself.

Garlic Scape Beef Satay Skewers

You could easily use chicken with these skewers, but the cooking time will obviously be shorter.

1 bunch garlic scapes (about 6 scapes)

½ inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled

Juice of one lime

Handful of cilantro leaves

About 10 mint leaves

A few Thai basil leaves (optional)

¼ cup soy sauce

3 Tablespoons sesame oil

1 pound beef round, cut into equal-sized chunks

Make scape skewers by cutting the woody ends off of six scapes.  Cut the ends into sharp points. Set aside.

Cut three of the scape top pieces (about 8 inches) and the ginger into small pieces and drop in a blender. Add the lime juice, cilantro, mint and basil leaves and the soy sauce.  Blend until a paste forms – the scapes are woody, so this takes a little work and scraping down of the sides of the blender.  With the blender running, drizzle in the sesame oil and blend until smooth.  Pour the marinade into a ziptop bag and add the beef cubes.  Seal the bag and shake everything around to coat the beef.  Refrigerate for several hours, turning once or twice.

When ready to cook, heat the grill or a grill pan to high heat.  Thread the beef onto the scape skewers.  If needed, you can cut a small slit in each beef chunk to slide the skewer through.  Grill the skewers until the beef is cooked through, about 10 minutes

Garlic Scape Satay Sauce

3  (8-inch pieces) of garlic scape

1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter

1/2 cup coconut milk

3 tablespoons water

3 tablespoons fresh lime juice

3 tablespoons soy sauce

1 tablespoon fish sauce

1 tablespoon hot sauce

1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger root

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Cut the scapes into small pieces and add to the blender with all the ingredients.  Blend until smooth.  Serve with Garlic Scape Beef Satay Skewers.

 Makes 6 skewers

Soup seems to be a universal comfort food. The French have their onion soup, the Italians minestrone, and Moroccans love harira.  For me, to be honest, tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich are the most comforting combination on earth. And Vietnamese pho is certainly part of this long list.

My parents are big fans of a Vietnamese restaurant near the neighborhood, but I never ventured much onto the unfamiliar side of the menu.  On my first visit, I ordered some cashew chicken bowl, and then came out my parents’ pho.  Big, steaming bowls of noodles and meat in a steaming, aromatic broth, delivered with a big side plate of fresh, green herbs. I was not willing to admit that I had ordered poorly, so I stuck up my nose at the pho.

Not long after that, I had one of the best bowls of soup I have ever experienced.  At a market in Cambodia, I marveled at a bowl of beef noodle soup that smelled so fantastically delicious, it absolutely enveloped me, even overpowering the smells of the market around me. The broth was so fragrant with chunks of beef and a nice slick of grease on the top that coated the noodles as I plucked them out.  I have never forgotten that soup, and know I will never truly recreate that moment.

So now when I go to the Vietnamese place, I order pho.  Different types, depending on my mood.  I don’t know what the Cambodian equivalent of pho is, but I have attempted to create my own equivalent.  I know it’s a simple version.  I don’t simmer bones to make my own stock or use any overly exotic ingredients – I’ll leave that to the restaurant chefs.  But this is warming, comforting and kind in its own way. This soup is easy to make, but impressive to serve.

Simple Beef Pho

The plate of fresh herbs presented along with the steaming soup make this a real treat.

4 cups low sodium beef broth

2 star anise

1 cinnamon stick

3 cloves garlic

1 shallot, peeled and cut into chunks

1 Tablespoon sugar

3 Tablespoons fish sauce

8 ounces rice stick noodles

6 ounces top sirloin steak

To serve:

Cilantro

Mint

Basil

Pour the broth into a large saucepan and add the spices, shallot, garlic, sugar and fish sauce.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 20 – 30 minutes.

While the broth is infusing, soak the rice noodles according to the package instructions.  Drain and rinse with cold water.

Slice the beef as thinly as possible.  It is easiest to do this with cold beef and a very sharp knife.  Putting the beef in the freezer for 15 minutes before slicing will also help.

When the broth has infused, drain through a sieve, discarding the solids.  Wipe out the saucepan and return the broth to it.  Place the noodles in a large serving bowl or in individual bowls. Bring the broth to a boil and drop in the beef slices.  Cook for just a minute, maybe two, until the beef is just warmed through.  Immediately transfer the beef slices to the noodle bowl, then ladle the broth over.

Serve the pho with leaves of cilantro, mint and basil to be sprinkled on top.

Serves 2

In Bruges

When I was young and foolish and full of high ideals, I spent a semester away from college studying European politics in London.  The whole merry band of scholars was ushered to Brussels for a week to visit the European Union headquarters and NATO and lots of other sites twenty year-old college student find fascinating.  We were, however, granted a free day to do as we wished.  The male half of our contingent chose to take the overnight train to Amsterdam and spend a full day (and night) taking in the, shall we say, less cultural attractions that for which the city is so famous.  But we were women of culture and intellect.  We ladies determined to spend our free day improving our minds and learning about art and history…in any place that was an easy train ride away and cheap.  So we chose Bruges. 

Bruges is a beautiful city, with medieval squares and winding canals, just oozing with mind-improving things.  We managed to get from the rail station to the center of town and wandered around aimlessly, as our brilliant plan did not include a guide book or, in fact, knowing anything whatsoever about Bruges.  My mother had told me that I should buy some Belgian lace while in the country, so we found a little shop and each picked out a souvenir.  I did my mother proud and I bought four lace placemats and four lace napkins.  Eventually, our aimless wandering worked up an appetite, so we stopped in a seemingly quaint little restaurant, right in the center of things, with dark paneling and old plates hanging on the walls. To us, it looked very authentic.  The menu was limited, but featured carbonnades flamandes, a hearty beef stew I was familiar with, how I can’t imagine.  So I insisted that we order this typical Belgian culinary tradition and everyone agreed.  It made us feel as if we were truly experiencing local culture, as our day so far had largely consisted of lace shopping and pointless rambling, with very little of that intellectual improvement we were so determined to experience.

The waiter was surly – we thought it was charming – and didn’t, or didn’t want to, communicate in English.  But we made ourselves understood and ordered that traditional carbonnades flamandes.  We had managed to round up a few tourist brochures, so we sat back and started to plan the afternoon.  Occasionally, a lady with her gray hair wound in a tight bun would pop her head out of the kitchen and look at us skeptically.  Time passed, and we started to notice.  Thirty minutes and no food – and no waiter.  Another fifteen passed.  The waiter appeared but we were unable to make any headway in communication.  The little grey haired head kept popping out.  More time passed, and it occurred to us that no one else was in the restaurant.  By this time, we’d finished our beers and the basket of stale bread, down to the crumbs.  We would try to get the attention of the head, each time it popped out, but it would only dart quickly back behind the swinging door. We could have left, but we were hungry, and a little overwhelmed that our high-minded plans were proving such a wash.  We reached the breaking point and had just decided to leave when the head popped out and then the waiter reappeared and plopped down or big steaming bowls of carbonnades flamandes. 

I can’t say it was the best meal I have ever had, and was undoubtedly much improved by our ravenous hunger and frustration, but in the end it proved to be memorable. We spent about three and half hours in the restaurant.  By the time we left, the rest of our day was pretty much gone and we had to start figuring out how to get back to the rail station.  We took the wrong bus, though we didn’t realize it until the driver turned of the lights, got off and shut the doors and we had to bang on the windows to get his attention.  A long, cold, walk and expensive cab ride got us to the last train back to Brussels.  And I can tell you, after all that, a big steaming bowl of carbonnades flamandes would have hit the spot.  As you can imagine, the story we told to the boys who stumbled back bleary-eyed from Amsterdam in no way resembled the one I’ve told here.

This is a wonderful fall and winter stew, perfect for your Oktoberfest celebrations.  And it features my favorite kind of cooking – a little time in prep and a slow cook in the oven that transforms simple ingredients into a rich, flavorful meal.  And your house will smell wonderfully warm and inviting while this cooks.

Belgian Beef and Beer

Carbonnades Flamandes

The character of the beer is a big part of this dish, so choose one you enjoy and want to drink with the dish.  For authenticity, you can use a Belgian Trappist Chimay.  I love the flavor of marjoram, but it can be difficult to find, so you can leave it out.

3 pounds boneless beef chuck or round steak, cut into 1 inch cubes

1/2 cup flour

1 ½ teaspoons black pepper

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon ground sage

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1/4 cup olive or vegetable oil, plus more as needed

4 medium onions, thinly sliced

4 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 cup light brown sugar

2 Tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 cup beef stock

12 ounces beer, amber or dark

2 bay leaves

a few sprigs of fresh marjoram (optional)

Heat oven to 325 degrees.

In a zip top bag, combine flour, salt, pepper, sage and thyme.  Add the beef cubes and shake to coat.

Heat 3 Tablespoons of oil in a large oven-safe Dutch oven over medium heat and brown the beef on all sides.  You will probably need to work in batches adding a few more drops of oil for each batch. Remove the browned beef pieces to a plate.

When the beef is browned, pour in the remaining oil and add onions to the pot over medium heat.  Saute the onions until soft and translucent, stirring to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.  Add the brown sugar and stir to coat.  When the onions are nicely browned and soft, stir in the garlic and the browned beef cubes with any juices that have accumulated on the plate.

In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the beef stock and cornstarch until smooth.  Pour over the beef and onion mixture then add the beer, stirring to combine completely.  Add the bay leaves and marjoram, if using.  Cover the pot and transfer to the oven for 2 to 2 ½ hours until the meat is tender. Remove the bay leaves and marjoram stems.  Season with salt to taste.

Serve the Carbonnades Flamandes with buttered noodles tossed with chopped parsley.

Can be made up to two days ahead and kept covered in the refrigerator. Reheat in a low oven before serving.

Serves 6

Ingredients on offer in Chiang Mai, Thailand

I love the flavor of Thai food, but it can be a little time consuming to prepare. This easy elegant wrap is simplified with bought roast beef.  These little lettuce cups make a great appetizer, served on a big, pretty platter, or a simple cold summer supper.  Choose a roast beef from the deli counter that is not highly seasoned or specially flavored and do not have it sliced paper thin. 

Easy Thai Beef Salad Cups

1/4 cup fish sauce

1/2 Tablespoon sesame oil

Juice of one lime

2 Tablespoons light brown sugar

1 scallion

1 small shallot

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 small red chile (optional)

4 mint leaves

4 basil leaves

2 sprigs cilantro leaves

4 ounces deli roast beef

1/2 cucumber

1 head butter lettuce

1/4 cup salted peanuts, chopped

In an airtight container with a lid, whisk together the fish sauce, sesame oil, lime juice and brown sugar until the sugar is dissolved.  Chop the scallion and shallot and add with the garlic to the marinade. (Chop the chile and add to the marinade if using). Chop the mint, basil and cilantro and add to the marinade.  Whisk to mix thoroughly.

Cut the roast beef into thin strips.  Drop into the marinade, place the lid on the container tightly and shake to coat.  Refrigerate several hours, shaking occasionally to keep covered.

When ready to serve, slice the cucumber into matchstick pieces or thin half moons. Remove the beef from the marinade – shake it off, but leaves some clinging to the meat.  Place in a bowl with the cucumbers and toss to combine.  Separate several leaves of lettuce and fill each one with the beef mixture.  Sprinkle with chopped peanuts.

Serves 4 – 6