Chicken, Chickpea, and Apricot Stew: Rockin' the Crock Pot

Check out the comments for the stew inspiration recipe link, tips on where to buy a Crock Pot, and the best way to prepare cauliflower. Man, I'm like the laziest blogger lately.

Seared Buffalo Liver with Roasted Vegetables and Quinoa Pilaf

While strolling through the market snapping photos on Saturday, I wandered up to the Pine Mountain Ranch booth to buy some eggs when I noticed they had chicken livers and hearts. I'd been wanting to make my own chopped liver for a while, so I inquired about the chicken parts. In what is quickly becoming a trend in my life, I was told that someone had just snapped up the last of the chicken bits but they had a package of buffalo livers available. As with the lamb tongues, I rolled with the punches, bought the liver, and set home to do some research. On the walk home, I called my sister Casey and told her I'd scored some buffalo liver, to which she responded, "Is this going to be your new thing? Eating weird parts?" I guess so, Casey. I guess so.

After some straightforward Googling of "buffalo liver," "bison liver," and even "beef liver" to round out the information hunt, I found out that soaking liver is pretty much suggested across the board. Some people recommend soaking in milk, others lemon or tomato juice, and a few prefer wine or another alcohol. This is really doing two things: The acids in the milk/juice/booze help tenderize the meat, and they tone down the strong flavor that liver can carry with it, especially if the liver comes from an older animal. I knew the livers I bought were probably the best money could buy, so I wasn't really worried about masking any off flavors, but I chose to marinate in red wine to be on the safe side (also, wine is rarely a bad idea). On another note, liver can be difficult to slice, but my friendly ranchers packaged the buffalo pre-sliced so I didn't have to worry about it. Perfect slices of even width made my job pretty easy.

A few hours of marinating later, I turned my cast iron pan up to smokin' hot, and seared the livers without letting them overcook, and served them up with flash roasted (really, broiled) veggies and some quinoa pilaf (which is just quinoa cooked in water with oregano, garlic powder, thyme, salt and pepper, and a skosh of tomato paste). I was pleasantly surprised! Yes, it tastes like liver, but the first taste on the tip of my tongue was of a really good steak - likely due to the caramelization of the searing...

(SCIENTIST SISTER EDIT: If you are talking about caramelization, it can't be caramelization of the meat. You might be able to get away with caramelizing the residual sugars of the wine in your marinade but you will never caramelize liver because caramelization refers exclusively to the decomposition of sugar with applied heat. In the case of a fatty meat, the browning and goodness that comes with searing is a complex mixture of reactions known collectively as the Maillard reaction which requires sugars, amino acids, and heat. And specifically, the reaction most likely occurring in your lean liver is decomposition of myoglobin, the protein that makes up muscle. Right! Thanks, Casey!)

I topped off the liver and veggies with a balsamic vinegar reduction, which basically entails boiling some balsamic vinegar until it reduces to a thick, delicious sauce that perfectly complemented the meat. Livers are really good for you, super lean with all of the good vitamins and nutrients, but when you're eating organ meats you really want to make sure you're getting the best quality, organic animal possible. Hormones and anitbiotics can concentrate in places like the liver, giving you a concentrated shot of all the nasty stuff. Luckily, they're about the cheapest meat sold at the farmers' market, so treat yourself to the best organic, pasture-raised liver you can buy from someone you trust. It won't put you out more than a couple of bucks.

Pine Mountain Ranch raises some might fine bison, all grass-fed and loved. My friend Nate asked me if I felt odd about eating buffalo, given that less than a century ago they were all but extinct. The truth of the matter is that most of the bison rehabilitation efforts have been due to the increased demand for buffalo/bison meat. In his book, Renewing America's Food Traditions: Saving and Savoring the Continent's Most Endangered Foods, conservation scientist Gary Paul Nabhan argues that by creating a culinary market for many of the endangered species of North America, the buffalo included, actions may be taken by private and public organizations to increase the population and establish safe havens for them. The owner of Pine Mountain Ranch, Alan Rousseau, has said of the buffalo: "Because of their majesty, and their place in history as a symbol of America, I have set a personal goal to return Buffalo to the wild, by way of a state or national park. This way, more of the public can be educated on the Buffalo, and hopefully be as inspired as I am by these magnificent creatures, which are as much a part of this great country as the Bald Eagle."

Perhaps more than most ranchers, Pine Mountain makes a point of using the whole animal - which is why I could find livers, hearts, feet, and tongues at the Portland farmers' market. Reducing waste, valuing the whole animal, and respecting the integrity of the species are reasons to feel good about eating those "weird parts" of the animals, while supporting local ranchers and their goals of rehabilitating and respecting the land and its sensitive ecology.

Plus, it's really tasty.

Crispy Fried Lamb Tongues

Though I’ve long been interested in the lesser-utilized animal parts schlepped in blue and white coolers to the Portland Farmer’s Market, I hadn’t intended on having lamb tongues in my freezer.

I had ordered a cow tongue from one of the market’s ranchers on a rainy Saturday morning, and had been fine with waiting the two weeks for the special request. I couldn’t expect them to bring every bit of offal, eyeball, and taste bud to the market every week. I thought I’d try my hand at some lengua sliders or lengua tacos and had been excited to finally buy some meat from the market. I can’t typically afford a whole chicken or prime steaks, and I figured that if I could find an affordable and delicious piece of meat from the best ranchers in the country, I could handle a slight stretch of my imagination and a little extra work.

On the agreed-upon day, I walked up and, no doubt with a goofy grin plastered on my face, greeted Dick Sexton and reminded him I’d ordered the tongue. He proceeded to pull out four tiny vacuum-packed frozen bits of… something.

I must have looked mighty confused because he said, “You did want lamb tongues, right? I didn’t think anyone would want just one, so I brought four of them.” After a very brief moment of consideration, I responded, “Nope! I wanted a beef tongue, but these will do just fine.” A little embarrassed about the confusion, he eagerly wrapped up my tongues in a brown paper bag, charged me less than three dollars, and asked me what I planned on doing with them. Smiling, I told him I had absolutely no idea.

For the rest of the market day I had a lot of fun showing off my purchases to the market staff, reveling in the combination of gross-out powers and foodie adventurism afforded by these next-to-free tongue popsicles. After cradling my prize back to my apartment, I threw the tongues in the freezer where they sat for a few weeks while I summoned the inspiration for a recipe and the courage to actually go through with it. Cooking tongues requires a strong stomach and a delicate touch, but with the right treatment they turn into tender morsels that taste like the platonic form of whatever animal they came from.

I settled on a recipe from Vitaly Paley from Paley’s Place that had been featured in Edible Portland a while back. It had far too many steps for my typical repertoire, but I was completely in the dark about what to do with my lambsicles and was willing to yield to a master.

The recipe wanted me to brine the tongues overnight in a spiced brine of kosher salt, sugar, a cinnamon stick, peppercorns, and bay leaves. I ended up throwing in a few tablespoons of mulling spices because I didn’t have a cinnamon stick, and I really like the flavor my brine gave the meat. After brining, the tongues got a low and slow poach in court bouillon (I used my standard broth method and added wine) for two hours before peeling.

And then it got intense.

Up until the peeling, you don’t really have to confront the fact that these are tongues, fully intact, with taste buds and connective tendons and saliva glands and a thick outer skin that feels, well, a lot like a tongue. When Vitaly asks you to “Trim and clean the tongues of gristle, fat and bone while the meat is still warm“ and use a paring knife to peel the outer skin from the inner meat, you do it, and you don’t look back. I won’t get all hackneyed and fall over myself about how I had a moment of connection with an animal that had a good life not far from town, and how for a tiny amount of cash money I was able to prepare some of the tastiest, most tender lamb I’ve ever made. Nope, none of that. It was actually pretty harrowing. Of course, as with any dramatic moment in my life, my camera, fitted with a macro lens, was near at hand.

After a rather tedious peeling session, which left me with a small pile of tongue sheddings, I dredged the tongues in spiced flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs I’d made by throwing a handful of rye crackers into the food processor. I’d pre-heated a cast iron pan with a half-inch of canola oil, and after that it was pretty smooth sailing. The tongues were fully cooked so it was just a matter of getting the breading golden and heated through. I’m not one to waste dredgings or oil, so I also battered some kale and fried up some greens and polenta (yum!).

I served these now-unrecognizable “lamb fingers” with a parsley aioli, and, if I may say so, felt pretty darn happy with myself. I braved my first battle with offal, and it was wonderfully tasty. If you’re feeling a bit adventurous and you don’t live with anyone who would disown you for storing a bucket of tongues in the fridge overnight, go talk to your local rancher and find out what little odd bits you can buy for a song. If you’re lucky, you’ll be given the wrong thing and have to get a little creative, and maybe a little freaked out, but it will be worth it.

Look! I did the whole post without a single tongue/offal/lamb pun! Now THAT’S an accomplishment.

PALEY'S CRISP PAN-FRIED LAMB TONGUE
From Vitaly Paley, Chef/Owner, Paley's Place

Brine
1 cup Kosher salt
1/4 cup sugar
4 qt cold water
1 2-inch cinnamon stick
5 bay leaves
1/4 cup black peppercorns
6 whole lamb tongues

Court Bouillon
1/2 bottle dry white wine
1 qt cold water
1 large carrot, chopped coarsely
1 whole onion, peeled
1 whole clove
1 tsp salt
1/4 cup black peppercorns

Breading
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp smoky Spanish paprika
Pinch of cayenne
1 tsp sea salt
12 grindings black pepper
3 whole eggs
1 cup fine bread crumbs
2 cup grapeseed oil

To make the brine, select a large pot, add all the ingredients, and bring the liquid to a rolling boil. Shut the heat off and allow the mixture to cool to room temperature. Transfer the tongues to the container in which they will refrigerate, pour the brine over the meat, cover, and refrigerate for 24 hours.

The next day, prepare the court bouillon for poaching the tongues. Add equal parts water and wine to a 3-quart pot, add carrot, onion, clove, salt and pepper, and bring the liquid to a boil. Simmer for about 30 minutes to develop flavor. Slip the brined tongues into the poaching liquid and simmer gently for two hours. Discard the brining liquid. When a knife inserts easily into the meat, remove the tongues to a cutting board. To reuse the poaching liquid, strain and refrigerate; it will hold for about a week.

Trim and clean the tongues of gristle, fat and bone while the meat is still warm. Use a small paring knife to separate the outer membrane to reveal the inner meat. Set them aside.

To bread the tongues, arrange three small bowls side by side on the work surface. In the first bowl, sift together the flour, paprika, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Crack the eggs into the second bowl and beat them with a fork until frothy. Place the crumbs in the third bowl.

Pick up a tongue and dredge it evenly in the flour, then shake off the excess. Drop it into the egg bowl. Use the other hand to transfer it from the egg bowl to the crumb bowl. Once covered in crumbs, place the tongue on a wire rack. Repeat the breading process with the remaining pieces. To keep the flour and crumbs from clumping, use one hand for dry ingredients, the other for wet.

A 9-inch skillet should be large enough to hold all the tongues without crowding. Add 1/2 inch of oil and place the pan on high heat until the oil reaches 350 degrees. Lower the heat to medium-high, place the breaded tongues in the oil, and fry until they are uniformly golden, about 45 seconds to a minute. Turn the tongues, making sure the crumbs don't burn. When the desired color is achieved, transfer the tongues to a plate lined with a paper towel and immediately season with a light sprinkling of sea salt.

Place one tongue on a cutting board and slice it on the diagonal into finger-thick slices. Arrange the slices on a plate, and serve immediately.

Memorial Day BBQ

There's nothing I love more than lounging in bed going through photos and video clips the morning after a really great party. My eye makeup is more than a little smeared, the sink is overflowing with baking pans and mixing bowls, and it's STILL raining outside, but I can cocoon into my comforters and pillows and scroll through hundred of pictures of my friends faces, relive the good food, and hear again the laughter and jokes of the night's misadventures. With Gillian Welch singing to me from the record player, and my socked toes all comfy under layers of cool cotton, I've spent a few blissful hours cropping, rotating, and sharpening these memories...

We had amazing weather for one of Portland's favorite holidays - the Rose Festival was lightly toasted by warm sunshine and high clouds, the river looked beautiful as I crossed over to the east side, and our humble little BBQ in the big, beautiful orange house known as Crib Largo went off without a hitch. I was in an extra-fantastic mood because I just got a new job (!!!) and a summery white dress, two factors I'm relatively sure had a direct impact on the good weather... We even played a little frisbee in the intersection, yelling "CAR!" (or, just as often, "BIKE!") and skittering to the side of the road to let passersby pass by. Chess games were played, Jim Beam and Icelandic Schnaps were sipped and shot, and somehow most everyone ended up in random articles of womens clothing...



Anyway, the food. Oh, the food. The boys got started on the brisket pretty early, smoked it to perfection. Honestly, it was the best meat we'd ever had at a Family Dinner^® gathering (aside from Travis' Dancing Ladies Chicken, of course...). Meatmaster Jesse made the rub from the scrappy spice collection of the Largo kitchen, set up the Weber for success, and painstakingly monitored the smoke levels over the course of a few hours. Damn, that was good brisket. We also had a huge pile of variously-flavored sausages, grilled veggies, roasted kale, confusingly good pickles, Sweet Tea, watermelon (both in cocktail and analog form) and my contribution, strawberry shortcakes and strawberry thumbprint cookies. In the past four days, I've eaten at Kenny & Zukes, Hash, Foster Burger, and Tastebud... but the dinner we had last night topped them all.



Rereading that last paragraph, I just realized I ate a LOT OF FOOD this weekend. Which is likely why I'm drinking tea and eating cucumbers while digitally thumbing through my photo uploads. A girl needs balance. A girl also needs great friends, and this girl has them, and how. Summer may still be a few weeks off in this crazy town, but I can already tell it's going to be a good one.

Eat well.












Strawberry Shortbread Thumbprint Cookies
adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Family Style, 2002

• 3/4 pound (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (Or more, if you want. I always up the kosher salt in cookies... it's kind of my thing...)
  
• Good Strawberry Jam
  

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

In an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together the butter and sugar until they are just combined and then add the vanilla. Separately, sift together the flour and salt. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture to the creamed butter and sugar. Mix until the dough starts to come together. Dump on a floured board and roll together into a flat disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for 30 minutes.

Roll the dough into 1 1/4-inch balls. Place the balls on a parchment-lined cookie sheet and press an indentation into the top of each with your finger. Drop 1 teaspoon of jam into each indentation. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until lightly golden. Cool and serve.

Sirloin Tacos with Red Cabbage, Scallions, and Cilantro

Eating seasonally is a funny project. During the winter, the farm finds are so fundamentally winter that it's difficult to break out of the soup/stew/casserole/roast recipes. But here I find myself dipping my toes into the first spring produce, and I'm making tacos with flavors I'd usually associate with a summer grill.

It may be a rebellion against the typically heavy foods of winter, the anticipation of sunny days on the horizon, or the abundance of fresh cilantro at the farmers market, but I found myself craving spicy, fresh, latin flavors this month. While my herb garden is sprouting, I'll be able to find everything I need, made and grown locally in Portland at the farmers market. That is, everything but citrus, the singular kink in my locavore chain. Most sacrifices are bearable - I don't really need avocado, I have no cravings for pineapple, but I miss citrus like I miss my parents. I should investigate those indoor lime trees.



I had some organic top sirloin strips (butcher cast-offs from some special order, always a good find) and some gorgeous red cabbage, fresh cilantro, some thick greek-style yogurt and scallions as big as leeks. Pulling a stack of corn tortillas from the fridge, the natural decision was tacos!



I sauteed the scallions with cumin, chili powder, and pepper, and seared the steak until it was done. After I warmed the tortillas, I piled the tacos with the cabbage, cilantro, yogurt, and a bit of hot sauce. No real recipe here, just fresh flavors and spices you like. If I had thought ahead, I might have marinaded the steak, but this was just a quick lunch and it was plenty flavorful. The scallions caramelized and the cabbage had great color and crunch.

My only complaint with this dish was the tortilla. I had to pick them up at New Seasons, and while they were organic and wholesome, they were probably made last week. I miss the big latino super-grocers in Southern California, where you can get a HUGE stack of still-warm tortillas, bulk pico de gallo, and all the citrus you could eat for pennies.

I need a place to get great, fresh tortillas in Portland. Any suggestions?

Here's to slightly warmer days and fantasies of cocktails by the beach. Eat well!

A Diamond Birthday

Oh, there has been so much to celebrate in the past few weeks! The beginning of the holiday season (marked in Portland by the onslaught of rain and the Thanksgiving & Christmas issues of my favorite foodie magazines, among other signs), the outcome of the election (I'm still floating in a state of red-white-and-bluephoria), and, this past weekend, my Grandmother's 80th birthday!

My grandmother is an amazing woman.  She is one of the strongest women I know, a breast cancer survivor, with a PhD in her pocket, and countless students inspired by her passion. A teacher, a poet, an entrepreneur, a mom, aunt, grandmother, great-grandmother, with eternally classic style and the best hugs around. The party was really a testament to the amazing community she had a part in creating, with four generations of the clan in attendance (with a gaggle of great-grandkids in tow), artists, musicians, craftspeople and academics of all varieties, and of course, TONS of food.

I flew down to Southern California to join my family in the celebration, which for us means preparing food for 24-hours straight for 80 party guests. No catering here, my friends, and nothing frozen, pre-packaged, micro-waved - though some doubting individuals tried to sneak in some bite-sized frozen shrimp snacks into the mix. Not while I'm on appetizers! I spent the week ahead plotting my attack, looking forward to the never-ending bounty of Southern California produce - strawberries and asparagus in November? I'm still flabbergasted - and crafting a few tasty dishes to feed the army of party-goers.

My older sister was on dessert - and cranked out 8 gorgeous classic Pineapple Upside-Down Cakes, the kind with the maraschino cherries in the center of pineapple rings, and a Four-Layer Carrot Cake with Pine Nuts and Cream Cheese Frosting - SO good, and I'm sure the house still smells like yellow cake (the tasty baked good, not the enriched uranium ore). My dad was manning the grill - enough lamb and chicken kabobs to feed about three times as many people as we were expecting.

The lamb had a red-wine, garlic, and rosemary marinade, and the chicken got a soy, ginger, and garlic treatment. My mom made a HUGE pasta salad - we were all amazing at how much pasta three bags made - and my little sister was the all-around champion of veggie-plates, odd-jobs, and official taster. Aunts and cousins brought cheese plates, crackers, beautiful fruit, famous rice salads, a keg of local brew for the big kids, and a box of "bunny noodles" for the little ones. Some families gather around sports teams, some around religious traditions, but for us, it's all about the food. 

My dishes might not have been the main attraction, but I was pretty pleased with them, and the way they disappeared, I'm guessing a few other people were as well.

First up - Deviled New Potatoes! These little guys started off as 40 small, adorable new potatoes, boiled until just tender, and chilled overnight. The next day, I used a melon baller to hollow out the centers. I reserved the scooped-out potato to add to the filling, which was really delicious. I sautéed three sliced leeks and four big shallots in olive oil, seasoned only with black pepper and kosher salt. After this mix started to brown - and smell amazing - I deglazed with a few tablespoons of good red wine at a time, allowing the liquid to evaporate before adding more, until I'd used about a cup. This mix went into the food processor with capers, basil, fresh meyer lemon juice, the reserved potato centers, and cream cheese. After the mix was thoroughly blended, I packed it into a big ziplock bag and piped the filling into the potato cups, sprinkled with chives, and moved on to the next dish...

Endive Boats with Roasted Garlic, Eggplant, and Orange Bell Pepper Puree. These were so fun to eat - the individual endive leaves were the perfect size for a little scoop of the savory filling. I roasted two whole eggplants, about 8 garlic cloves (peeled, and wrapped in a packet of tin foil with olive oil) and three orange bell peppers at 400 degrees for about 35 minutes. Everything went into the food processor with cumin, more olive oil, capers, lemon juice, and a but of curry powder. Yum!

My last dish was a simple bruschetta, with olive tapenade, tomato, and basil. I made the tapenade using three kinds of olives - kalamata, brined green, and black, a can of each - all pitted. I threw these in the food processor with fresh garlic, anchovies, lemon juice, capers, basil, and a good amount of olive oil. This stuff was strong, in a good way, so I put about a teaspoon on a fresh basil leaf on each toasted baguette slice - topped with a slice of cherry tomato. Classic, simple, and delicious - brought to you by California sunshine. So jealous.

It was a great party - 80th is the Diamond Anniversary. Sorry you didn't get any diamonds, grandma, but I hope you loved the good friends, good beer and wine, and great food as much as I enjoyed helping out. Even now, as I sit looking out at the Portland rain, roasting a pumpkin in the oven, and I can still feel the warmth of the grill and the California fall, hear the babies playing, and see my grandma's smile as she popped the champagne. 

May we all live to be as successful and beautiful. Eat well!