Of Lentils, Leftovers, and My Loathing for Celery

They say never to go grocery shopping hungry. This is doubly important when you're me. I'm a little...impulsive.

I went with a list and everything! I was going to make a Moroccan lentil stew, for which I needed just about all the constituent elements (celery, carrots, lentils, chicken stock, wine, mushrooms). The problem is, being hungry (even for Hungry Sam) I decided to multiply the recipe a few times without REALLY paying attention to, you know, the volume of the finished product.

Which means in addition to making too much (frozen for future meals of course) I also have SO MANY LENTILS left. I tried to find a photograph that would communicate the sheer quantity of lentils I have remaining, but all I could find was this tasteful picture of an Italian Lentil farm. Enjoy:

I also have so much celery. What the hell am I going to do with celery? I hate celery. Any food that cannot sustain you AND gets stuck in your teeth should just go extinct already. I suppose ants-on-a-log are an option, but still. GOD.

For my stew, I used this recipe for inspiration, but I departed from it in three significant ways:

1. Cannellini beans are boring! Go with Garbanzo, Kidney, and Butter beans -- they absorb tons of flavor.
2. The spices, as someone mentioned in the comments, aren't very Moroccan. I went with cumin, turmeric, and cinnamon.
3. THIS IS KEY: instead of cooking the lentils in water, I used equal parts chicken broth and red wine. I don't know why I did this; it was incredible. (VEGGIES -- use vegetable broth)

The celery just sort of melted into the base; I'm never cooking with celery ever again. Forget that. I loved the richness of the mushrooms with the buttery, cinnamony lentils and the diced tomato, which added just the right level of savory tang. I'm always suprised that more people don't cook with cinnamon as a savory spice -- it always seems to lend a sharp, earthy flavor, one reminiscent of sweetness without being itself sweet.

Recipe's a keeper, though I will say it did not keep as well as I would have hoped and I ended up having to throw some out. Bah. Overall though, and despite the several hiccups in the process, a great cooking experience and one I would recommend.

Turkey Chili: Habanero Burns Ensue

If this blog makes you in any way I am some sort of cooking "expert," allow me to state unequivocally that I AM NOT. I am the slightly more sophisticated version of a 5 year-old who makes "soup" by stirring at ice cream or lemonade by combining lemons with...nothing.

What I am is enthusiastic. If what I make sounds delicious, that's because a) it is, but more importantly b) because I throw myself into every recipe or opportunity for experimentation with youthful and at times idiotic zest and vigor. I will soon have an EPIC FAIL and will blog about that too, I promise. Like the time I once made chicken biryani and simultaneously invented a new alloy of steel/chicken biryani.

ANYWAYS: My amateur enthusiasm comes out when I least expect it. The other day, while locked in fierce combat with the weather, I made about 2 gallons of Turkey Chili. As per several requests I have had, I will attempt to recreate the recipe (see bottom of the post). The point is, although I had experienced chili burns before, and although I KNEW habaneros (frequently spelled with a tilda over the 'n') are the spiciest chili pepper available in most grocery stores, I did not take proper precautions.

Proper precautions would have included:

1. Using gloves of some sort;
2. Using a wet towel to grip and handle the peppers;
3. NOT USING HABANEROS.

Long story short, about ten minutes after using the peppers, I developed angry red burns on my fingers. This is because the oils in hot chilis include a compound called capsaicin, which is also in tarantula venom and used in the popular muscle pain ameliorate IcyHot.

The oil also got under my finger nails, which I discovered 3 hours (and several handwashes and aloe applications) later when I scratched my neck...and left angry red burns. Wowza.

Anyways, the chili was GREAT. I love to stuff chili with tons of beans, as many varieties as I can find, both for color and flavor. I used about 2.5 lbs. of ground turkey, 93% lean, and simmered it down longer than I needed to achieve a more intense, thicker chili. It's pretty healthy too; I go light on the oil and the turkey is lean. Other than that it's just veggies. Here's the recipe:

Pain-is-weakness Chili (okay, it's not THAT spicy.)

NOTE: ALL amounts are estimations, particularly for spices; I spice to taste and throughout the process.

2.5 lbs. ground turkey, 93% lean
olive oil
2 jalapenos, minced
2 medium onions, chopped
1 bell pepper (I like yellow for the color), chopped
1 habanero...or not. Minced.
2 T. tomato paste
1 can (28 oz.) whole tomatoes, peeled.
Small handful FRESH cilantro, stems separated from fronds
3 c. low-sodium chicken stock
3 T. minced garlic
T. cumin
1 T. cinnamon
1 T. chipotle pepper, ground
1 t. oregano
2 bay leaves
Pretty much as many beans of any variety you choose. I used 5 cans -- butter, black, black-eyed, kidney, and garbanzo. Drain and rinse.
Salt and pepper

1. Heat oil in a dutch oven or other large, thick-bottomed pot (make the cookin' world go round?). Sautee garlic, then peppers, cilantro stems, and onions, seasoning with salt and pepper and some of the spices, until onions are translucent and sweating.
   
2. Throw in the turkey, breaking up big chunks, until cooked through. Spice.
   
3. Stir in tomatoes and paste, then chicken stock. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, cook about 45 minutes. Season and spice at several points -- it's important to remember the character of spices is different depending on the points at which they are added.
   
4. Toss in the beans, cook an additional however long you feel like it (I did 30 minutes more). Add cilantro (fronds?) just before serving.
   

The Majestic Bison: With Avocado and Chipotle Mayo

Today (after a two week, work-induced hiatus) I want to talk about one of the decisions I habitually make which has allowed me to enjoy a healthier -- but still extremely fulfilling -- diet. What makes a diet fulfilling? For me, it's the ability to satisfy cravings, occasionally overindulge, experience new flavors and revel in good comfort food while still finishing a meal and feeling like I fit in my own skin.

So, one choice I make which has helped create a Healthy Hungry Sam is the choice to make substitutions. On of my favorite substitutions: Bison for Beef.

Bison is a lean, low cholesterol, lower calorie version of it's more domesticated cousin. It is, of course, another red meat (and thus to be enjoyed at a rate 20% lower than once before =) but a more virtuous variety, both healthier for me and generally for the planet (because bison tend to be grass-fed and raised using best environmental practices). I've now had bison a few times and prepped it a few different ways, but where it really shines is as a canvas for a spicy, intensely flavored burger.

Using about 90% lean bison ($5.99 at Whole Foods; seen cheaper at Wegmans), I made a pair of 1/4 lb. patties, mixing in a steak spice rub I make and keep on the spice rack (salt, paprika, pepper, cayenne, rosemary, garlic). These I threw on the Foreman, grilling until medium rare. I sliced a firm, just barely ripe avocado into thick, half-inch-thick coins and whisked a few generous pinches into a scoop of low fat mayo. If my estimates seem imprecise, it's because they are; I rarely measure. For "buns," I used some whole wheat bread, toasted.

As a side, I made my own sweet potato "fries" by slicing one up, tossing it with some olive oil, brown sugar, cinnamon, cumin and chipotle and baking at 400 degrees for about 20 minutes. Excellent choice. The final effect:

Mmmm. I know a healthful substitution has gone well when I finish and feel stuffed but comfortable. I plowed through two burgers and a helping and a half of potatoes, trying to savor the burgers of my labor but with each gulp just kind of thinking about the next bite. Pretty damn spicy -- I recommend enjoying with milk.

Marinating in Yogurt: A First Attempt

I used to be a pretty chubby kid, mostly because I viewed eating, as so much else, as a form of competition in which you won by eating more than anyone else. As I learned portion control (and found tennis, track, rugby, cycling and the gym) I slimmed off and now I compete by cooking tastier, cheaper, or more beautifully than I ever have before. That said, I have my moments in which I want to pig out and the end result of this recipe created just that sort of moment. I had one bite of this garam masala and yogurt marinated chicken and immediately set aside leftovers for lunch -- otherwise, they wouldn't be there tomorrow.

Spurred on by low price-per-pound chicken and a half-dose of boredom I decided to try marinating in greek yogurt. For those unaware, greek yogurt is a denser, more proteinaceous version of the regular type, one in which excess liquid and whey have been pressed or drained off -- it's pretty healthy too, hence its recent availability in stores. I'm not exactly a health nut, but I try to maximize protein in my daily diet so I keep the stuff on hand.

I've not marinated in yogurt before, and though I've heard the process lends itself to keeping meat moist and still imbuing intended flavors, I was still wary. I've had some bad experiences with marinating in general and have in the last several years become much enamored of using rubs as an alternative.

But, my hesitations aside, I mixed the yogurt with finely diced onion, minced garlic, lemon juice and salt and pepper, these being the combinations I recall from eating similar dishes in restaurants. A quick online search suggested garam masala (a pungent mixture of Indian spices) and ginger as a great way to flavor the marinade; I could have gone more Mediterranean and used cucumber and dill, but I was feeling more Asian today. It took ten minutes to prep; I threw everything in a bag, mixed it up and put it in the fridge. Six hours of wandering around D.C. in 50 degree weather and five minutes on the Foreman grill later, and I was sold on yogurt marinades.

Wow. The yogurt created a thin crust on the outside of each thigh and made the interior nearly creamy. The lemon and garlic was evident in every bite and made my mouth water for the next. Interesting, the spices I chose were pretty much indiscernible; either I used too little or I used precisely the right amount and they melded perfectly into the greater complex of flavors. I am literally sad looking at this empty blue plate.

Last week's recipe was NOTHING to this. THIS is what I want to do with chicken from now on; I can't wait until I can grill this recipe over charcoal. Now my mouth is watering again...

PS: I need to get a better way to take this pictures. This Blackberry bullshit is awful.

Wine-Braised Saffron Fennel Chicken

So, I frequently choose recipes by buying the meat that's on sale, deciding generally the way in which I want to cook the meat, then Googling the ingredients I have. I prefer certain Food Network chefs, anything from Tastespotting, and much from Epicurious, and roll with what I find.

Tonight, having thawed some chicken thighs and knowing I wanted to braise them, I just typed "chicken" and "braised" into the Tastespotting search bar and found Wine-Braised Chicken with Shallots. I stopped at Whole Foods on the way home from work, completely forgot the pancetta and decided I'd use onion instead of shallots. I already had most of my ingredients at home (a later post will describe what I consider to be a well-stocked kitchen); the herbs and fennel were all I needed and of the latter I purchased way too much. This all added up to some key changes to the recipe.

Out of habit I prepped everything (chopping the veggies takes some time) before beginning to cook. I wasn't under the clock and prefer a leisurely experience - also, though I find braising rather easy I think giving the process all of my attention probably contributed in the past.

Braising is a two-part cooking technique in which the chef dry sears in high heat then finishes slowly and gently in a spiced or flavored liquid at relatively low heat. I feel the process, which I only discovered several months ago, helps a chef to avoid all the potential pitfalls of cooking meat (particularly chicken) such as dryness, toughness, and flavorlessness, while simultaneously allowing the maximum creativity in spicing and bringing out the most delicate character of the meat. As sinew and fibers break down, the meat pulls away in gorgeous, neat slivers, tender to the touch and tongue, and positively imbued with the intended flavors.

Working with my wonderful dutch oven, I seared the chicken (having seasoned it with salt and pepper), sauteed the vegetables, added the wine and broth and tied my herbs into a small linen packet. Now, for this recipe, I decided to focus on bringing out the fennel by using a citrusy sauvignon blanc, reducing the thyme, including the stalks of the fennel bulb in my herb sachet, and in a moment of inspiration added saffron threads.

Finally, because I consider lemon to be fennel's best friend, I added long strips of peel (no pith!) to the mixture just before sending it covered into the oven. I braised for about 45 minutes at 300 degrees. Finally, I removed the chicken and the spices and simmered to reduce the sauce down to a few, savory cups. I served the chicken over rice with the sauce and vegetables on top.

VERDICT: I'm going to consider this dish quite good, not incredible. The flavor was excellent: the whole dish, top to bottom, had a citrusy, tangy flavor; the fennel scent infused the entire dish and the chopped bulb itself was mouth-watering. The chicken flaked away from the bone in long slivers, each juicy bite pregnant with intensity and zest. In a broader sense, I also consider the dish a win because it was so cheap. Even with my hearty appetite, I'm going to get 3 or 4 meals out of the leftovers, and the skinless bone-in chicken (the most expensive ingredient) was very reasonable at only a buck fifty a pound.

Some things I would change (DELTA!): I would have used some egg noodles instead of rice, I might have pulled the chicken off the bone during the last step to make it easier to eat, and I might have added some potato or another starch in order to help thicken the sauce. I'm not going to call this a "go-to" recipe, but it was an excellent use of the ingredients and that's my priority.

The final effect:

Mom's Chicken Parmesan

Hi everyone. I'm Sam, and I'm hungry. We can explore that thought later and in greater detail (just try and stop me) but for this fleeting moment, I want to say a few words about my mom's chicken parmesan.

Listen -- this is it, kids. Gather round. This is the one you want, the dish that with every individual forkful sears the memory of its flavor into your shamefully unprepared taste buds. It's good.

My mom's chicken parmesan is the dish I have requested for my birthday meal for as long as I've been able to articulate a request. If I ever even had a different birthday meal, that pale un-memory has clearly been eclipsed by the shining supernovae of chicken parms past. After I began to attend college, it became the special meal for my too-infrequent returns home and it remains to this very hour and day the object of flights of my epicurean fancy.

I can't tell you, really, what sets this recipe apart because I'm more than a little fearful (ok, maybe dismissive) of other attempts. I can and will tell you the breasts are beaten flat with a tenderizer rather than butterflied, the breading is spiced with oregano and basil and we pan fry, we don't deep fry. We bake the cutlets enveloped in the sauce, simmering the meat in a ripe, red, tomatoey blanket, adding the cheese at the last moment. We serve over pasta, which if it could talk is saying "I gotta follow THIS act?" (I frequently anthropomorphize my food).

The first bite, every time, makes me chew slowly and gently, just enough to keep getting all the flavor. I think my eyes close a little. It's just that delicious, so savory that my primitive cortices stage a coup and higher function is temporarily non-existant. Finally, there's some sadness at the inevitably clean plate but it's overtaken and overwhelmed by satisfaction.

********

The way I feel about my mom's chicken parmesan is the most extreme example of how I feel about food as an aspect of my life. For me, meals aren't just about sustenance, they're an opportunity to have an adventure. I don't need fancy, expensive, or rare dishes to elicit one, either. I just need creativity, passion, interest, and a little knowledge about food and cooking.

This blog is going to be an opportunity for me to share my adventures with anyone interested in reading them. Sometimes I'll review a restaurant or eatery I've enjoyed and other times I'll share a recipe I've made or a friend has made. The same predilections that allow me to imbue my food with this ridiculous, childlike wonder do the same for other elements of my life, and every now and again I'll share those. Comment, ask for recipes, whatever; feel free to join in the fun.

-Hungry Sam