Wastin' Away Again in "Fres-quila-ville!"

No, I am not hammered.  I just happened to add my fun new drink's name to a popular Jimmy Buffett song. 

I created a new drink last night.  No major story behind it except a random thought that popped into my head that went a little something like this:  "Tequila is good.  Grapefruit soda is good.  Odds are in my favor that if I combine them, they'd taste good together."  Like a mad scientist, I gathered my beakers (ok, cocktail glasses), pipettes (straws), and lab goggles (sunglasses) and tested my hypothesis.  (Side note:  How many of these drinks do I have to "test" before my hypothesis is accepted as a valid theory, and how many do I have to drink before my theory is considered a fact?)

Fresca is the most popular grapefruit soda on the market (hence the drink's name), but you can also use some of the amazing new organic, no-sugar-added sparkling beverages, such as Izze's. 

This drink is tasty, but I've gotta be responsible and mention that it goes down smooth and it's easy to drink fast.  If you try these and get tanked and act stupid, don't say I didn't warn you.

Fres-quila

1 shot clear tequila
splash maraschino cherry juice
6 oz. grapefruit soda
maraschino cherries, to garnish

Pour the tequila and maraschino cherry juice in a stemless martini glass or tumbler.  Pour in the soda and stir until blended.  Garnish with maraschino cherries skewered on a cocktail pick.

Linguine with New England Clam Sauce

Lovers of Italian food and shellfish have probably tried dozens of variations on the classic Linguine con Vongole, better known as Linguine with Clam Sauce.  I've tried several styles of this perennial favorite, but after an on-the-fly experiment, my method of choice is to prepare it using New England's famous steamers.  I like to call it "Linguine with New England Clam Sauce."



Soft-shell clams steaming

For my readers who have never visited New England, "steamers" are our colloquial term for soft-shell clams, which are traditionally steamed in their shells, then served with clam broth and melted butter.  Diners pull the clams from their shells, dunk them in the broth to rinse away any leftover sand, then slosh them in the butter, which is sometimes seasoned with garlic or wine. 

I would have never thought to use steamers in linguine and clam sauce until my old roommate, who loves clams so much I'm surprised she doesn't grind them up and snort them, came home with a plastic container full of steamers that were left over after a BBQ she had attended.  Instead of letting the host throw them away, she packed them up and said, "My roommate will be able to do something with these."  So she gave me the cooked clams and said, "Feed me."  (I'm paraphrasing - the conversation wasn't that brief)



Cooked steamers

Having just made a batch of fresh pasta, the first thing I thought of was to turn the steamers into clam sauce.  I poured the broth through a strainer and into a pot and reduced it, adding lots of garlic and some chile flakes.  Realizing that I had no parsley, which is the herb traditionally used in Linguine with Clam Sauce, I decided to experiment with the fresh tarragon I had on hand.  I minced up about a tablespoon and added it to the reduced clam broth, and I was pleased with the spicy depth that it added.  I served the sauce over the fresh pasta, and the end result is one of my most memorable creations. 

In more recent versions, I've added fresh parsley as well - I find that it brightens up the flavor a bit.  Pair this with a crisp, acidic white wine, and enjoy it outdoors while the sun is still shining - it's New England pasta perfection! 


Linguine with New England Clam Sauce

2 lbs. live steamer clams
1 T. fresh tarragon (or 1 t. dried)
2 cups dry white wine
1/4 - 1/2 t. red chile flakes
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic, smashed
1 lb. linguine
1 T. minced parsley
generous splash olive oil
1/4 stick butter

Place the wine, tarragon, and chile flakes in a large pot.  Heat to a boil, then add the clams.  Cover, then cook until all of the clams have opened.  Discard any that do not open. 

Using a slotted spoon, remove the clams from the broth.  Reserve the broth and set both the broth and the clams aside to cool.  Once the clams are cook enough to touch, clean them by removing the clam from its shell, then peel the wrinkly black membrane from the "neck" of the clam.  Discard the membrane and return the cleaned clams, along with the smashed garlic clove(s), to the cooled broth (don't add the clams while the broth is still hot, or the clams will continue to cook and become tough).  Refrigerate the clams in broth for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight - this allows for the garlic flavor to penetrate the clams. 

After the clams have marinated in the broth, remove them from the broth again.  Set the clams aside, and in a large, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the broth until it has almost reached a boil.  Add the parsley, olive oil, and butter, then reduce heat to medium-low and cook until the broth is reduced by about half.  In the meantime, cook the pasta. 

Once the sauce has reduced, add the cooked pasta and the reserved clams to the pot.  Cook for another minute or so, stirring until each strand of pasta is coated.  Because the clam broth is naturally salty, you will probably not need to add any additional salt, but you may want to add a grind or two of black pepper.  Serve hot, topped with a drizzle of olive oil.

Around the World in Eighty Bites - Jamaica

Perhaps I should have saved this post for wintertime, a time when anything that can point one's thoughts in the direction of a warmer climate is greatly appreciated, but my tastebuds go where my cravings take me - I don't plan this stuff.  This week, they went to Jamaica.  Jamaican food is highly underrated in this country, which is a shame because it is creative, distinct, and perfect for the sweltering heat Boston has been getting for the past few weeks.

Jamaican culture is often parodied in mainstream American media through depictions of dreadlocked Rastafarii smoking ganja, paired with thought bubbles containing the words, "Hey, mon!" or "We jammin!" Yes, some Jamaicans smoke weed - so do some Bostonians, but we don't see cartoons of red-haired, pink-faced guys in Sox hats smoking blunts with the caption, "Yeahhhh, bro! Reefahhhh!" Ohhh, stereotypes. Behind this all-too-popular mockery is an exciting culture stemming from collective resistance to one of mankind's greatest wrongs, and out of that culture came inspired cooking.

The slave trade, that brutal scar on humanity's history, is the greatest factor in the formation of Jamaican cuisine and culture. With the slave trade came ingredients from Africa, as well as those brought to the Island by white people. Once the legal slave trade was ended, Asian-Indian labor was used in Jamaica's sugar plantations, and curries became popular on the Island, taking on a Caribbean flavor.

Prevalence of the Rastafarian image in American media does not reflect Jamaican culture as a whole. Hollywood would have us believe that Jamaican food is centered around pot brownies, which is certainly not the case. However, Rastafarians do have a dietary regimen in place - called Ital - which simply bans processed foods.  Was this an early version of the Slow Food movement? 

For this post, I cooked two traditional Jamaican dishes with ingredients common enough in the States that you should have no problem duplicating them. These recipes go from good to great when combined with rum drinks and Buju Banton!
　

Beans & Rice

1 T. coconut oil (or other vegetable oil)
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 can Goya dry pigeon peas
1 fresno chile or red jalapeno, chopped
3 cups cooked rice, seasoned with Goya Sazon
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 t. garlic powder
1/2 t. allspice powder
2-3 green onions, sliced
salt & pepper to taste

Heat the coconut oil over medium heat in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. When it has melted, add the yellow onion. Cook for a few minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion has softened a bit.

Next, add the pigeon peas and fresno chile. Cook for another minute or two, just until the pigeon peas are heated through. Finally, add the cooked rice, green pepper, garlic powder, allspice, green onions, and salt and pepper. Stir until well-blended, then continue stirring until it is heated through. Serve with Jerk Chicken.


Jerk Chicken

1 pound chicken breast strips, pounded thin with a meat mallet
1 batch Jerk marinade (see recipe)

Marinate the chicken strips for 1-4 hours in the jerk marinade. Cook on the grill, 2-3 minutes per side, or until cooked through. If you do not have a grill, bake in a 400-degree oven for approximately 20 minutes, turning once.


Jerk Marinade

This is my adaptation of a recipe found in Bon Appetit's July 2011 issue.

4 T. vegetable oil
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
4 green onions, chopped
4 habanero peppers, chopped*
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 T. dried thyme (or 2 T. fresh)
1 T. grated fresh ginger
1 T. brown sugar
2 t. ground allspice
1 t. salt
1/2 t. finely ground black pepper
2 T. malt vinegar

Combine all the ingredients in a blender. Process until a consistent puree is achieved.

* If you can't take the heat of habaneros, you can wimp out and use jalapenos.

Thoughts on Food and Love...

Do you ever find yourself wondering why a certain person was brought into your life? Maybe you're wondering how you got so lucky to meet this person and what you did to deserve such a blessing; maybe you're picking up the pieces of a shattered affair and cursing the day you met this person? (Maybe you're (correctly) assuming that I'm overtired, undercaffienated, and procrastinating at work?)

I've had my share of love and loss over the course of my life, and it seems like I always figure out what lesson(s) I've learned from each person who comes in and out of my life. I've been mulling over my relationship status lately, and in the course of wondering why certain situations worked out better than others, why some never got off the ground, etc. etc. etc., I've realized that my love life has had a discernable impact on my culinary activities and philosophies.  Let me explain:

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I dated a guy who told me that I can't cook. Interestingly, I had never cooked for him! Therefore, he was not qualified to judge. However, his asinine comment added some serious fuel to my fire and made me want to learn how to cook like a rock star for the sole purpose of proving him wrong. 

I once dated a guy who thought he was fat, so he would order side salads at restaurants and watch with envy as I gnawed on a rack of ribs. That's when I started to realize that I could never be serious about someone whose vanity trumped his love of food.

Once, I spent a day and a half cooking a meal for a guy who called me at the last minute to tell me he got called into work and couldn't make it. I later learned that his "job" had bottle blonde hair and quite obvious fake breasts. That's when I learned that when you're cooking for a guy you're dating, make sure you cook something that keeps well.

Once, I spent an entire first date with a guy talking about food, dive bars, and good restaurants. A few dates later, I decided to cook dinner for him. Remembering the aforementioned incident, I was hesitant to prepare anything in advance, so I planned something quick and easy. I made halftime steaks (click here for my recipe), roasted potatoes, and a salad with fennel, orange, arugula, and crumbled gorgonzola in a balsamic vinaigrette. He was quite impressed. That's when I learned that knowing how to cook a proper steak is an ace that every single girl should have up her sleeve.

A while back, I met a guy who was as much into eating and drinking as I am. We started spending a lot of time together, cooked together a few times, we had a ton of common interests and philosophies...I was crazy about the kid, and I really thought it would turn into something rock solid. It didn't. However, I ended up with a few amazing recipes, a solid appreciation for bourbon, and a world of inspiration both in and out of the kitchen, and that's when I learned that I will never fall for someone who doesn't inspire me.

Last but not least, I'll offer this fact: I know it's more than a fling when I smile like a dufus over the thought of cooking dinner for someone every day. I've never been great at showing my feelings, and often people question how much I care. Know this - if I feed you, I like you. That goes not only for romantic relationships, but for friends, family, etc. It occured to me that I express my feelings in the kitchen and at the table. Whether I'm slowly stirring risotto while singing along with sad songs, furiously chopping habaneros while listening to Rage Against The Machine, providing a sounding board to a friend over drinks and apps, treating my mom to breakfast when I visit her, or baking canine crumpets for all the shelter dogs who desperately need some love and TLC, cooking is my preferred emotional outlet and dining is my favorite bonding mechanism. 

I'm never quite brave enough to explicitly say "I love you."  I don't tell my friends often enough that my life would be crap without them.  I don't thank my mom nearly enough for putting up with my bullshit for the last 29 years, and the animals at the shelter don't have the capacity to understand that their barks and meows fill the holes in my heart.  Looks like I've got a LOOOTTTTTTT of cooking to do...  　
　

Ingredient Spotlight - Skate Wings

It is not often that I will use the words "skate" and "wings" in a sentence that has nothing to do with a hockey team from Detroit - but today, I will do so as I write about a new seafood item that I tried recently.  Skates, those weird, flat, diamond-shaped, bottom-dwelling sea creatures that you may have touched during a visit to an aquarium's touch pool, make a pretty delicious main course!  

Previously thought of as a "trash fish," meaning a fish with little market value in the food arena, skate has gained popularity in recent years.  Similar in flavor to a mild whitefish, such as haddock, but firmer in texture, skate wings are extremely versatile and compatible with many flavor combinations and cooking methods.  Last time I visited my mom's house, I spotted these at the local fish market and decided to see what the fuss was all about.  

There are many different forms and flavors my skate wings could have taken, but when I cook with a new ingredient, I like to keep the recipe as simple as possible so I can experience the flavor and texture of the ingredient as close to its natural state as possible.  If you spot skate wings at your fish market, pick up a few and try them simply prepared with a little butter, lemon, and capers, as I did in the recipe below.   


Skate Wings with Lemon & Capers
2 T. butter
2 skate wings
juice of 1 lemon
1 T capers, chopped
salt & pepper, to taste

In a heavy-bottomed frying pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add both skate wings, flat side down, then add the lemon juice and capers. Cover, then cook for about 5 minutes, or until the skate wings flake easily with a fork. Remove the wings with a spatula, transfer to serving plates, then add the salt and pepper to the pan juices. Stir a few times, then pour the sauce onto the plated skate wings.