FOOD ON THE FOOD

Cod, Fennel, and Saffron Stew

Only one more week until my book deadline, so let’s keep this brief. If you happen to have a tiny little box of saffron in your spice collection, you don’t have to wait for paella to use it. Here’s a really fast and easy soup you can make with your favorite white fish. It’s warm and wonderful.

Cod, Fennel, and Saffron Stew  

Serve with crusty bread or potatoes, roasted or mashed.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1-1/2 lbs. cod fillets or other white fish, cut into large chunks
2 shallots, thinly sliced
1 fennel bulb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 carrot, sliced into 1/2-inch coins
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
Pinch of saffron threads, crumbled
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup white wine
2 Tbsp. dry vermouth

In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the olive oil until shimmery hot. Add the shallots and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 2 minutes. Add the fennel and carrots, and sauté until light golden, about 5 minutes. Add the fish pieces and sprinkle with thyme, saffron, salt, and pepper. Add the water, wine, and vermouth, and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot and cook over low heat until the vegetables are tender and the fish is cooked through, about 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Ridiculously Good Fried Chicken

I hope everyone’s hungry for some Saint Paddy’s Day fried chicken!

Okay, you got me. We’re not really having fried chicken tonight—we’re having Irish boiled dinner, just as Husband’s Irish ancestors intended. But I have a big backlog of posts and none of them has an Irish theme, so fried chicken it is! We’re very loose with the schedule around here. You can still drink your green beer, though, so pipe down.

This recipe is based on my Southern grandmother’s version of fried chicken, with a few twists to make it my own. While you can deep-fry the chicken pieces until shatteringly crisp in a Fry-o-later or Dutch oven full of oil, I tend to use her shallow pan-frying technique instead, which uses far less oil. It still yields a crispy product, though I don’t fully understand how. It seems like covering the pan to finish the cooking would trap steam and make the coating soggy, but somehow it still stays plenty crisp. Huzzah! The kids love it.

Use a great-tasting, local-farm-raised chicken if you can for the best flavor. Then there's no need to brine the chicken ahead of time. Mashed potatoes and braised collard greens complete the meal. (See? I snuck some green in at the very end!)


Southern Fried Chicken  

My grandmother dipped the chicken pieces in beaten egg, but I like to use buttermilk. Or, if we’re out of buttermilk like we were last week, I thin some yogurt with milk. The spices are all to taste. Use what you like. I never make it the same way twice.

1 medium whole chicken, cut up, or 2-3 lbs. of your favorite parts, bone in, skin on
1/2 cup buttermilk (I use Kate’s)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/4 tsp. dried sage
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Dash of cayenne
1/4 cup vegetable oil

Rinse and dry the chicken parts, and sprinkle them with a little salt and pepper. Pour the buttermilk into a small bowl. In a medium shallow dish, combine the flour and all the seasonings. You can either use this bowl to bread the chicken pieces, or you can toss the mixture into a clean brown paper bag. I usually do the latter so I can shake them around. Two at a time, dip the chicken parts into the buttermilk and then dip them in the flour, moving the pieces around until they’re fully coated. Shake off the excess flour, then set them on a large plate until ready to fry.

In a large cast iron or other heavy bottomed frying pan, heat the oil until shimmery hot, but not smoking. Make sure the pan has a lid nearby, or borrow one from another similarly sized pan. Fry the chicken in two batches, about 4-5 minutes per side, until golden. Return all the chicken to the pan in one layer if possible, or stacked if necessary. Cover and reduce the heat to low. Cook for about 15 more minutes until cooked through to the bone. Transfer the chicken to a plate lined with paper towels and season with salt. Serve immediately. If there are leftovers, and there probably won’t be, don't heat them up in the microwave—use the oven or toaster oven instead to maintain the crispness.

*I’m not much of a gravy girl, but if you want gravy, here’s what my grandmother used to do. Pour off all but 1 Tbsp. of the oil from the pan. Over medium heat, whisk in 1 Tbsp. of any leftover flour mixture (or 1 Tbsp. new flour) and cook it for a minute. Then whisk in about half a can of evaporated milk (NOT condensed milk), whisking constantly to scrape up the brown bits and simmering until it reaches the desired consistency. (You could also use 1/2 cup regular milk—it'll just take longer to cook down to the right consistency, maybe 5-10 minutes). Season with salt and pepper, and any other seasonings you enjoy.

Caldo Gallego

We’re finally starting to thaw out around here. The snow piles have shrunk noticeably, and I just saw my first patch of grass yesterday where the snow had receded from the salt line along the street. Here’s hoping March’s early leonine behavior turns lambish right on schedule [though it’ll be a shame not to break Boston’s all-time snowfall record (107.9 inches) after coming within a mere inch or two].

I’m making soup and will continue to do so for the next few months. I won’t stop until all the chill is gone from the air. This particular soup is perfect for these transition months from winter to spring. It hails from Galicia, the northwest region of Spain where the landscape at this time of year resembles lush, rainy Ireland in seeming tribute to the area's medieval Celtic roots. As such, the food is appropriate for those raw, drizzly days when the wet wind cuts right through to your bones. This version uses canned navy beans, potatoes, collard greens, and a winning trifecta of pork. That is to say: bacon, ham, and chorizo.

You'd be wise to save your ham bones this Easter to make this great soup.


Caldo Gallego (Galician Sausage and Bean Soup)  

If you can find Spanish smoked paprika, like pimentón de la Vera, use that as it imparts a distinctly Spanish flavor. Otherwise, use regular sweet paprika and you’ll get some of that smoky flavor from the chorizo.

1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 lb. bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (or regular paprika)
2 15.5-oz. cans of navy beans, well rinsed and drained
1 lb. chorizo, sliced
1 ham bone or 1/2-lb. smoked pork hock, skin scored
6 cups chicken stock or water
2 Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cubed
5 cups shredded collard greens (or turnip greens, kale, or escarole)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook for 5 to 7 minutes until crisp. Remove the bacon from the pot with a slotted spoon, and drain on paper towels. Set aside.

Pour off all but 2 Tbsp. of the bacon fat from the pot. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and paprika, and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly. Add the beans, chorizo, ham bone or hock, and stock, and increase the heat to high. While heating, prepare the potatoes and greens, and add them to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 1 hour. Remove the ham bone or hock, reserving the meat to shred and return to the pot. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately garnished with bacon.

Source: Inspired by Soup of the Day by Ellen Brown, who adapted it from Jose Garces of Amada in Philadelphia.

Mexican Lime Curd

If you want to taste sunshine without leaving the frosty confines of your ice house, have I got a recipe for you: Lime Curd.

Maybe initially that doesn’t sound very enticing. Perhaps it conjures up images of congealed proteins bathed in sour juices. If so, that’s entirely the wrong idea. Think of citrus curd as a smooth, luscious pudding packed with tartness. The bright acidity hits you like a smack of cold air while the generous butter content swaddles your tongue like a warm blanket. Lemon curd is usually what people swoon over, especially when Meyer lemons are in season. But I love limes, and I’m here to tell you that lime curd can do battle with lemon curd any day of the week.

First, a bit about limes. Supermarket limes are typically Persian limes. You can make lime curd with these limes and it will be delicious (in fact, there’s a recipe for curd using regular limes in my cookbook). But I had the great fortune to end up with Mexican limes the other day. Mexico grows two kinds of limes, the ubiquitous Persian limes I just mentioned and a slightly smaller native lime, a variety that is better known as the famous Key lime. Here in the States, when limes are labeled as Mexican limes, you’re usually just getting Mexican-grown Persian limes. But every once in a while, you’ll end up with Mexican-grown Mexican limes. You probably won’t even know it until you leave them on the counter for a while and instead of staying green (or turning brown), they turn yellow like lemons. These limes are more acidic and have a bracing complexity that's hard to resist. They are widely considered to be the very best limes by the people in charge of limes.

You know how crazy people get for Key lime pie, right? Well, this Mexican lime curd is like Key lime pie without the crust. You can just spoon it out of the jar for a spontaneous burst of happiness. It’s also good on biscuits, scones, or coconut macadamia shortbread (WINTERSWEET, p. 92). Mexican limes tend to be larger than Key limes, so it doesn’t take as many or as long to juice them, but the two are interchangeable.

This curd is magical. It is delightful. And it is yours.

Mexican Lime Curd  

I’d recommend organic limes for this recipe since you’ll be using the outer peel. If not, you’ll want to scrub them well. Also, just a note that the finished curd is bright yellow, not green. That’s no mistake. The color is influenced more by the egg yolks than the juice or zest.

1 Tbsp. finely grated lime zest (shiny outer part only, not the bitter white pith)
1 1/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs, well beaten
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice from 6 Mexican limes (or ~12 Key limes)
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter
Pinch of salt

Place a large bowl half-full of ice water near the stove. Next to that, set a wire-mesh strainer nested inside a medium metal bowl.

In a medium saucepan, rub the lime zest into the sugar with your fingers until moist and fragrant. Whisk in the beaten eggs and lime juice. Add the butter and salt, and set the pot over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until the butter melts and the mixture thickens, 5 to 10 minutes. Do not boil. Wait for when the mixture thickens to the consistency of a loose pudding. It should coat the back of a spoon, leaving a distinctive track when you run your finger through it. At this point, remove the pot from the heat.

Set the bowl with the strainer inside the ice bath, and quickly pour the curd through the strainer into the bowl, using a rubber scraper to force the curd through the sieve. (The ice bath halts the cooking and the strainer is insurance to remove any overcooked egg proteins that may arise. Be sure to scrape as much of the curd as possible off the underside of the strainer.)

Let the curd cool for a half hour before pouring it into small jars. The curd will thicken further and the flavor will intensify as it chills. Keep refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.