mizducky

I find it really challenging to make cooked bean dishes look pretty, even when they taste great. Some of the best refried beans I've ever tasted have looked like, well, the contents of some baby's diaper. But raw beans do look quite pretty--especially adzuki, with their distinctive shape and little stripe.

I bet you could find a whole lot of camping-friendly meal inspiration over in the Chili Cook-off topic currently in progress.

This is probably not practical for your immediate situation, but I have a special fondness for serving chili on Indian fry bread.

Whaddabout da' carbohydrates, Curlz? You need an Eyetalian Beef samwich dipped with sweet peppers. Dat has salt, garlic, fat and protein. What else could a lady want? ← Why, hand-delivery to her door, by a fetching young delivery-person ... who won't be perturbed when said lady snatches the sandwich away and inhales it right there in the foyer. I'm in synch too, ladies. Just watched my friend's kid last night pawing through her entire Halloween haul ... only thing there that enticed me was a big ol' Three Muskateers bar, but the kid's grandmother called dibs on that! So I departed and hit the local Jack-in-the-Box. All hail the mighty Jack, open 24/7 -- maybe I should call up their Corporate Headquarters (hey, they're only, like, five miles away) and suggest a whole new ad campaign: "Ladies, even if That Craving strikes at 2 AM, we'll be there for you."

How about this one? The Carp in the Bathtub - two kids fall in love with the carp their mother brought home to make into gefilte fish!

Y'know, I never have made stuffed onions, but I think they'd go really well with a stuffing featuring sausage and/or bacon.

I've been known to get into random conversations in the check-out line about the food I'm purchasing--usually starting with someone looking at my order and asking "So what do you do with <insert name of item here>, I've never known how to cook that." But I actually have relatively few friends who are into cooking the way I am--which is why I hang out on eGullet. Actually, I'm dying to relate a fascinating little food-conversation I had late last night (or more accurately, very very early this morning). I had just hit the road after spending an evening at a little jazz/rock dive in LA called The Baked Potato (a part of said adventure also documented here), and had pulled into a 24-hour convenience store to pick up some munchies for my motel room. The extremely animated cashier cheerfully demanded to know how I'd spent my evening, and among other things I wound up mentioning that the club I'd gone to served baked potatoes with various toppings. He excitedly began asking me all kinds of questions about what kind of toppings, etc.--then he wanted to know if they topped any of them with "shrim". To be sure, English was apparently not this fellow's first language, but even allowing for his accent I could not guess what "shrim" was. He got strangely agitated when I told him I didn't know what "shrim" was--"What? You're American and never heard of shrim????" Even when he spelled it out -- S-H-R-I-M -- I was clueless as to what he meant. Finally he mentioned it was seafood, and the lightbulb went off: "Um, actually it's spelled with a 'P' on the end." Fortunately, he was only briefly abashed, and continued on enthusiastically chatting at me about food until I succeeded in fleeing into the night with my purchases.

Ohhhhh, I had a few more than just the two (see my comment above about the food's excellent booze-absorption qualities). This joint being basically a dive-y jazz bar, I tend not get very adventurous with my drink orders there. My first drink was meant to be a Manhattan, but they screwed it up even worse than usual--tasted pretty much like just scotch (!) with no vermouth whatsoever (hey, but they remembered to plop a maraschino cherry in the thing!). The rest of the night I stuck to bourbon-and-coke--at least the bartender couldn't screw those up.

Check, mushrooms. Check, sour cream. And ... You get a special gold star for identifying the salad, which indeed included red cabbage. (Plus some forgettable commercial Eye-talian dressing. Okay, I'll put the whole mystery out of its misery. What you are looking at is a humongous baked potato, topped with mushrooms and melted cheese, with a small side salad. This is one of the namesake dishes served at The Baked Potato, a tiny hole-in-the-wall jazz/rock club in Studio City/LA. Their whole menu is baked potatoes with various toppings. They look pretty homely (especially under crappy lighting), but as bar food goes they're relatively wholesome. And they're really efficient for cushioning one's stomach against a night's booze intake. But given the Potato's fame in certain circles for the excellent quality of musicians they book, I think they won't mind if I say that people don't tend to make it a destination just for their food.

You're getting warm. There is definitely melted cheese involved. No steak, however. No meat-protein anywhere on that plate.

BWA-hahahahahahahahah! While there was indeed a Halloween theme going on at the establishment where I consumed this, erm, repast, this was no holday special, but a regular and typical offering from their menu. C'mon, folks--any guesses?

Ate the following sometime last night in Los Angeles. I wasn't sure whether to post it here, or the thread about places you've dined recently, or the one about blurry low-quality camera-phone photos ... I tried adjusting the color in Photoshop, without success ... although this is actually a fair approximation of how the dish looked under the dim lighting in this joint. I can't reveal the establishment's name, however--at least not until you've all had your fun guessing what the hell this is, because the place's name would constitute a hint (which might in itself be a hint). Oh, but I can't resist another hint: the main item on this plate comes perilously close to violating the classic B. Kliban rule about never eating anything bigger than your head.

Heh. My mom, child of the Great Depression that she was, always saved up bread ends for months before every Thanksgiving. I have never been quite so organized (or thrifty), so I buy a couple loaves of sliced bread and dry 'em out in a low oven. Oh, totally agreed. I've seen all the Cassandra warnings about risks of contamination, overly-soggy stuffing, etc., but neither I nor my mom before me ever had any of those problems. We were ultra-scrupulous about cleanliness, plus we only stuffed the bird immediately before slapping the thing in the oven. Also, we'd keep our dressing mix very dry so it could absorb all those lovely turkey juices without totally sogging out. Oh, and while the stuffing cage is kinda cute, it really wouldn't be my thing. For one thing, I have a peculiar fondness for the method I learned from my mom of sewing up the stuffed turkey with needle and white cotton thread--I like the homeyness of it, plus I have the perhaps-delusional notion that it allows you to fit a little more stuffing in--and I wouldn't be able to do that with that cage's handle sticking out. (And you'd still have to deal with stuffing the neck/breast cavity anyway.) Besides, the problem the cage is supposed to solve--bits of stuffing in hard-to-reach crannies inside the bird--I grew up seeing as a Good Thing--those bits are prizes for the person who pulls the job of gleaning the last of the meat off the turkey carcass (or the gourmandes who decide to have a late-night turkey-carcass fressing session ). The general recipe I learned from my mom was pretty darned simple: a mix of breads (NO Wonder Bread whatsoever! I prefer a mix of whole-grain wheat and a bit of dark rye or pumpernickel), thoroughly dried out and then broken (NOT cut) into bitesize bits; sausage, removed from casings, crumbled, cooked, and drained; chopped onion and celery, sauted in butter; sliced mushrooms, also sauteed in butter; bunch of poultry seasoning; some more melted butter and an egg or two, depending on volume and destination of stuffing (we'd make tons; the stuffing that actually went into the bird got less butter and egg, the extra that went in a casserole dish would get more butter and egg to make up for the lack of turkey-juices, though it was never quite as yummy as the stuff cooked inside the bird). My mom just used El Random Whatever-was-on-sale sausage, regular white mushrooms, and that boxed poultry seasoning that shows up in the supermarkets every year at this time. On my own, I've changed those up in all sorts of ways, with various combinations of fresh or dried herbs, different flavors of sausage, different types of mushrooms, etc.

Green chili with lamb and garbanzos Serves 4 as Main Dish. This recipe was inspired by various recipes for New Mexico-style green chili and/or "green chile stew" that I found on the Internet, plus inspirations from various eGulleteers to be bold and do a non-traditional chili using lamb (one of my favorite meats) and garbanzo beans (one of my favorite legumes). As my transplanted New Mexican friend tells me with great sighs of longing, you just can't find fresh New Mexico chiles in Southern California markets, and there's no good substitute. The typical Hatch NM chile used for these kinds of dishes is called Big Jim--it's the chile that, when fully ripened to red and then dried, gets made into those ristras (chile wreaths) one sees in NM gift shops. Green, they slightly resemble Anaheims, but are a good bit hotter. The green chiles are rumored to come dried too, but I haven't found them. Typically the fresh ones are flame-roasted and skinned, and then either used as-is in recipes, or frozen. There are some mail-order places that sell the frozen stuff, but of course I didn't want to wait for that! The canned flame-roasted green chiles are considered a last resort--and most of the time, the chiles in those cans aren't even Big Jims, they're just more Anaheims. So, I did a compromise suggested by one or another of the NM chile-head websites I found, using a combination of canned and fresh-roasted Anaheims for the general flavor, color, and texture, and then some other chiles for the heat. The chiles de arbol are my favorite go-to dried chiles for long-simmered dishes--I've got their heat-level pretty well calibrated at this point. And the New Mexico (red) chile powder? I threw that in, well, just because (hey, it sez New Mexico on the label! :-) ) 1/4 lb bacon, sliced, then cut in 1-2" pieces 1 lb lamb, boneless, 1/2" to 3/4" cubes 2 7 oz. cans whole NM style green fire-roasted chiles (NOT pickled!) 1 lb fresh Anaheim chiles 2 small onions, chopped 2 cloves garlic, minced 3 dried chiles de arbol 1/2 tsp ground cumin 1/2 tsp ground Mexican oregano 1/2 tsp New Mexico red chile (not "chili"!) powder 1 bay leaf 3 c cooked garbanzo beans 1 scant cup water 1. Roast the Anaheim chiles: preheat oven to 400 deg. F. Slit each chile down one side and remove as much of the seeds/membranes as you can. Place chiles on a foil-lined cookie sheet and roast, turning every five to ten minutes or so with tongs until all sides of the chiles start to show brownish patches--approx. 30 minute in all. Remove from oven and, while still hot, place chiles in a heat-resistant container and seal with a tightly-fitting lid. Let them steam by their own heat in the container for about ten minutes or so, or until their skins have started to loosen significantly. Remove their stems, open each chile flat, and gently peel off their skins. Chop chile flesh into 1-inch lengths and reserve. 1a. While you're at it, chop the canned green chiles into 1-inch lengths too. 2. In a large stewpot over medium-ish heat, fry the bacon till moderately-cooked but not all the way to crispy. Remove bacon and reserve. 3. In the bacon fat, brown the lamb in batches; remove and reserve. 4. Turn the heat to medium low; sweat the onions and garlic in the hot fat until soft and a tiny bit browned. 5. Return the lamb and bacon to the pot, along with all the other remaining ingredients. Stir well, cover tightly, and let simmer on medium-low to low heat for a good couple of hours or until the lamb is as tender as you'd like. Check on it occasionally to give it a stir and to adjust heat so it stays at a gentle simmer and doesn't scorch--the chiles should release more than enough liquid to keep it from drying out. 6. You can serve this with corn tortillas, or over your favorite starch (rice, etc.). I think it would be dynamite served on top of Navaho frybread! Notes: 1. This produces a relatively low-heat chile. Please feel free to up the heat as desired by adding more chile powder and/or dried red chiles, and/or using hotter chiles than the arbols. 2. If you are able to get your hands on fresh or fresh-frozen New Mexico "Big Jim" green chiles, by all means use them instead of the Anaheims and the canned chiles--you'll probably want about 2lbs of the Big Jims in all. Be aware that the Big Jims, unlike the Anaheims, actually pack some heat of their own (i.e. wear gloves and/or wash your hands thoroughly after handling them, watch you don't touch any sensitive body parts with your chile-juicy hands, and take their heat into account when adding the other heat sources). 3. The garbanzos keep their shape well during the long simmer because the canned green chiles contain a bit of citric acid. If you go with all fresh or frozen Big Jim chiles, you'll need to add a bit of acid from some other source to keep the beans from disintegrating (I'd suggest a tablespoon or so of fresh lime juice). Keywords: Beans, Intermediate, Lamb, Lunch, Vegetables, Dinner, Main Dish, American ( RG1456 )

Y'know, for all that those arancini did not turn out magazine-cover perfect, they still have a kind of homely/homey charm ... I'd at least try one. (And I think your tablecloth is cute.)

You can often get away with substituting soft silken tofu for dairy products in recipes for dips, dressings, etc. Just mash the stuff with a fork, or give it a couple of pulses in blender or food processor, and proceed with your recipe.

Okay, I could have let the chili simmer for even longer, but it's getting late and I'm getting hungry!!! As I expected, even though I only put in a scant cup of water to start things out, the chiles released a large amount of liquid, so between that and using cubed rather than ground meat, I produced a soupy chili. Which is fine, because that soup is downright flavorful. The amount of heat is not huge, but just right for me and my sensitive tummy. The lamb, while tender enough, is not doing the disintegrating-into-meat-fibers thang; like I said, I should have let it simmer perhaps another hour. The garbanzos really held up well--there's no tomato products in this recipe, as you'll recall, but the canned green chiles contained some citric acid, so that plus the natural sturdiness of garbanzos probably helped with that. The green chiles, both fresh and canned, semi-disintegrated, but I think they're supposed to do that. The flavors of the lamb and the combo of different chiles are playing together very nicely in my mouth. A note on my rationale for the variety of chile products I used: as my transplanted New Mexican friend tells me with great sighs of longing, you just can't find fresh New Mexico chiles in Cali markets, and there's no good substitute. The typical Hatch NM chile used for these kinds of dishes is called Big Jim--it's the chile that, when fully ripened to red and then dried, gets made into those ristras (chile wreaths) one sees in NM gift shops. Green, they slightly resemble Anaheims, but are a good bit hotter. The green chiles are rumored to come dried too, but I haven't found them. Typically the fresh ones are flame-roasted and skinned, and then either used as-is in recipes, or frozen. There are some mail-order places that sell the frozen stuff, but of course I didn't want to wait for that! The canned flame-roasted green chiles are considered a last resort--and most of the time, the chiles in those cans aren't even Big Jims, they're just more Anaheims. So, I did a compromise suggested by one or another of the NM chile-head websites I found, using a combination of canned and fresh-roasted Anaheims for the general flavor, color, and texture, and then some other chiles for the heat. The chiles de arbol are my favorite go-to dried chiles for long-simmered dishes--I've got their heat-level pretty well calibrated at this point. And the New Mexico (red) chile powder? I threw that in, well, just because (it sez New Mexico on the label! )

Oh, that's a plenty gorgeous shot--of a really gorgeous plating. I love how they fanned the skate out so that it emphasizes the grain of the meat. Looks absolutely delicious with all those capers.

Okay, my attempt at New Mexico-style green chili with lamb is currently simmering away. Was too hurried to do the full pictorial thang, but I promise I'll post some kind of photo at the end. Here's what went into it: 1/4 lb bacon 2 lbs "lamb bones" -- yielded what looked like approx. 1 lb. meat in 1/2" cubes 2 7 oz. cans NM style green fire-roasted chiles 1 lb. fresh Anaheim chiles, roasted, peeled, and chopped 2 small onions, chopped 2 cloves garlic, minced Approx. 1/2 tsp NM red chile powder 3 dried chiles de arbol Approx. 1/2 tsp ground cumin Approx. 1/2 tsp ground Mexican oregano 1 bay leaf 3 cups cooked garbanzo beans 1 scant cup water First I cooked the bacon, then removed and reserved it. I browned the lamb, including the bones, in the bacon fat, removed and reserved that too. Browned the chopped onion and garlic in the bacon fat, then added back the lamb, bones, and whatever bacon I hadn't already noshed on , plus all the other ingredients except the garbanzos, and let it simmer for about 1/2 hour. Then the garbanzos went in (thanks, gourmande, for the impetus for that--I had pressure-cooked a big batch of garbanzos earlier in the week and there was still a goodly amount hanging around in the fridge). So far, it's looking pretty promising, and definitely green! I'll let it keep simmering until the lamb is really tender, then remove the bones, put any remaining meat off them, and stir the meat back into the chili. Only other observations so far: my pepper-peeling technique still needs a little work. The Anaheims went directly from the oven into a tightly-sealed container to steam as most people suggest, but while the skins of most of them came off fairly easily there was at least one I had to give up on and mutter, "Okay, a few shreds of skin in a non-competition chili aren't going to harm anything." Oh yeah--the Anaheims roasting in the oven smelled distinctly different from when I roast bell peppers, but I don't know if that might actually be due to the fact that, unlike bell peppers, I roasted these Anaheims dry, without oil (I figured it would be a pain in the butt trying to peel slippery peppers).

I think your pictures (and food) look great too! About the TSP: I had tried, and kind of given up on, TSP, mainly because I was not liking the texture/mouthfeel of the stuff I was working with. Nomatter how long I cooked it, the little bits would still come out like rubbery little pencil-erasers. But now I'm wondering if it was just the brand of TSP I was using. Could you tell me the brand you get from Tengu, so I can see if I can find it here in the US? Thanks!

Oh yeah, baby! Only one slight problem: Bobby Short's performance is so mesmerizing (at least I found it so the one time I took it in), it might even distract me from paying proper attention to my date. ← Another slight problem (click). ← Oh no! How the heck did I miss that? (checking ... ) Okay, March 21, 2005 is when he passed. I was swamped with a project around that time. Oh well ... Sorry for going a little off-topic ... to try and bring this back, my memories of the Cafe Carlyle was that it was the most sophisticated place I had ever been inside of in my entire life up to that point (I was all of 22 years old at the time, mind you, but I bet it would still hold up). It won't be the same without Bobby, but I bet many romantic rendezvous will still be had there.

Oh yeah, baby! Only one slight problem: Bobby Short's performance is so mesmerizing (at least I found it so the one time I took it in), it might even distract me from paying proper attention to my date.

Heh. As long as both you and your beloved both eat them. Share the love, share the garlic breath. I can imagine a bohemian-starving-artist type romantic dinner happening all impromtu at 3am in a diner. I also confess to heavy childhood imprinting on the romantic-dinner scene from "Lady and the Tramp" of all things--only half-joking here, that Disney-cute scene does have a number of elements people have already mentioned (intimate seating, candlelight, cloth table linens, sharing food, attentive waitstaff--okay, maybe a little *too* attentive for many people's tastes ). (Somewhat) more seriously, what I would find the height of romance in a swanky restaurant would be something that feels like it came right out of a Bogart-and-Bacall movie. Very adult, with a noir edge. Service attentive but discreet. Food sophisticated but also discreet. Jazz trio working through a slow jam. Serious cocktails made by someone who doesn't have to be told what a classic martini is. Maybe a balcony to adjourn to at some point, hopefully with some moonlight to provide lighting for the Big Kiss. And also, hopefully, a nearby hotel room for the followup.

Yeah, I'm not totally certain even the Zunis think of that stew as "chili" as such--notice that the recipe's title carefully calls it "green chile stew." But it's got enough things in common with other New Mexico green chilis that I figured it was at least a near relative. What I'm probably going to do is a hybrid of these and other NM green chili recipes I've found from random Googling. From these recipes here, I'm taking the inspiration to use lamb as the main meat. From others I've seen on the net, I'll be taking the idea of using potatoes instead of beans. I am far from anybody's idea of a chili expert, but if I were using dried beans I'd cook them separately first, then add them to the chili to cook some more (bearing in mind the earlier discussion that the acidity of tomatoes would keep them from breaking down into mush). However, if you're doing this in a crockpot with a lot of liquid, that probably would be enough time and moisture for uncooked dried beans to cook ... so I dunno.

Doing some more poking around the net, I found two very intriguing chili recipes using lamb: New Mexico Chili with Lamb Zuni Green Chile Stew Hitting the supermarket later in the day, I stumbled upon some lamb neck bones for a ridiculously cheap price. So I think there's some kind of lamb chili concoction in my near future.