Cucumber Salad

If you’re anything like me, the presence of a large bowl of cucumbers and onions dressed with vinegar and perhaps a IMG_0205little sugar or salt is a sure sign of a well-balanced summer meal.  As long as there’s a platter of sliced tomatoes, some well-buttered ears of corn, and cold hunks of melon to look forward to, it’s a warm weather feast worthy of any country table and any country appetite.

But that bowl of pale green and white has a special place in my heart because it represents some pretty sensible kitchen magic.

The cucumber itself is the perfect summer food because it is truly cool – its interior is about 20 degrees cooler than its surface.  That relates to the fact that the vegetable is 96% water and wears a well-insulated jacket in a fashionable shade of green.  What makes the summer table work so well is the presence of lots of moisture, and cucumbers, like much good, fresh produce, is bursting with hydration.

cuke salad ingredientsWith all that goodness going on, you wonder why on earth you’d want to cover it up with any dressing at all?  But the cucumber salad takes on an additional level of brilliance for the summer table precisely because of that dressing and its slightly sour disposition.

Vinegar’s acidity commends it to the summer diet because of its refreshing quality.  What, you don’t think of vinegar as refreshing?  Perhaps you’d prefer a glass of lemonade or a crisp gold glass of sauvignon blanc?  What makes both of those beverages work in the summer sun is their acidity – think of it as a brightness that acts in the same way as does a squeeze of lime over a taco or lemon over fish.

When the cucumbers dive into their dressing, they are literally bathed in extra refreshment.  It’s a relish, really, that’s light, summery and enlivening and a perfect match to food from the grill. And if you’re a fan of the cold fried chicken picnic, cucumber salad is almost a miracle worker for making the mouth sing after the richness of the crisp and golden-brown main course.

Tomato Head’s version of this Southern staple combines the traditional recipe with a little mint and jalapeno.  The dab of heat actually works to increase the refreshment quality because it wakes up your mouth’s receptors.  And mint adds additional refreshment with an alluring flavor that sets this dish apart from granny’s delicious but predictable version.

It’s quick, it’s fresh, and it’s cool.  Just like a cucumber ought to be.

Tomato Head’s Cucumber Salad

The Finished Product

The Finished Product

For the Dressing:

¼ cup cider vinegar

1 Tbl sugar

3/4 tsp salt

Mix vinegar together with sugar and salt in a small saucepan, and heat just until sugar dissolves. Allow the mixture to cool to room temperature.

For the Salad:

4 cups cucumber

1/2 cup onion

2 TBL minced jalapeno

2 TBL mint, chopped

2 TBL of vinegar mix

Thinly slice the cucumbers and onion and place in a medium bowl. Add the chopped Jalapeno and mint. Pour the dressing over the cucumber mixture and allow the mixture to sit for 30 minutes.

Serve as a side dish with Fried Chicken, or any grilled meats.

Serves 6-8 people.

Cheese Straws

I do not often think of myself as a Southerner.  It’s not prejudicial – I am fond of the South in many ways and often eat and cook like a Southerner ought to do.   I’ve grown okra, I can tie up a tomato, I know how to make a fair tea cake, I prefer my grits with red-eye gravy, and my cast iron skillet is seasoned and ready for cornbread at the drop of a hat.  Why, the only things really that keep me from calling myself a true Southerner are that I have never thought of East Tennessee as being particularly Southern, and, much, much more to the point, I don’t care for cheese straws.

Getting Ready to Mix

Getting Ready to Mix

Don’t misunderstand me, I like the idea of cheese straws, and I even like the taste of them.  What I do not like is the shape – this essential southern snack, when forced through a cookie press like a big hog through a tight sty, takes on a cylindrical, sometimes frilly edged form that I find difficult to abide.

In case you might wonder, it is not a cylinder phobia of which I am afflicted.  I enjoy driving with all 4 of them firing as much as the next person, and should I find myself eating a whole carrot, I am content to nibble away as any cartoon bunny might.  But in the matter of cheese straws with their delicate and tender construction, I am entirely discontent to approach the thing as one might approach a corn dog.

That delicate construction has a propensity to crumb or even break off.  If the straw is made to be delicious, it will be a little unctuous and may very well leave a slight stain on one’s seersucker should it break apart.  Furthermore, I subscribe to the idea that decent cocktail food should be easily eaten in one, perhaps two bites.  I have seen straws that strain that rule to upwards of four ungainly mouthfuls.

Who, I ask you, would be so indelicate as to imagine that I could possibly eat that way in polite society?  Why a cheese straw of such a length would most certainly tickle the epiglottis and provoke an unseemly gag or, if it did not, might open one up to very scurrilous remarks upon the absence of that reflex.

So you see my point, I am quite sure.  Fortunately, the very good and sensible Mahasti also understands this woeful

Ready to Cut the Wafers

Ready to Cut the Wafers

dilemma.  For this reason, she has proved us with a very politic solution.  In fact it’s much more politic and agreeable than almost anything else I’ve heard so far this year.  You see, after Mahasti assembles her base recipe she rolls it up into a long cylinder (of which, I remind you, I am not phobic) and slices it into the most delicate little rounds you can imagine.

These are cheese wafers and have the same kind of ethereal lightness that I imagined manna having when it floated down into my imagination during Sunday School.

I suppose you can take your crunchy cheese snack in whatever shape you want it.  But I hope you’ll understand that while I may not have the genteel quality of a real Southerner, I do have delicate sensibilities which is the next best thing.

So Bon Appetit, y’all.

 

Flour Head Bakery’s Cheddar Cheese Wafers

The Finished Product

The Finished Product

½ lb Sharp Cheddar, shredded

4 oz butter (1 stick), soft

3 TBl water

1.5 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp salt

½ tsp Cayenne

½ tsp Paprika

1 tsp Bl pepper

2 tsp baking powder

In the bowl of your stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or in a medium bowl with a hand-held mixer, beat the butter until smooth.  Add the shredded cheddar and mix until the cheese breaks down and forms a smooth paste.  Add water and mix just until incorporated.

In a medium bowl, mix together the flour, salt, cayenne, paprika, black pepper and baking powder.

Gradually add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and mix until it forms a smooth ball.  Divide the dough into 2 pieces, and shape each piece into a log.  Wrap each log in plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm, 2 hours or overnight.

When ready to bake, preheat your oven to 300 degrees.

Slice the log into 1/8 inch discs and place on a parchment lined baking sheet, with ½ inch of space between each wafer.  Bake for 15 minutes.  Remove the wafers from the oven, turn the oven off and allow the oven to cool for 10 minutes.  Return the wafers to the oven and allow to rest in off oven for 30 minutes or until crisp. (the wafers will crisp up as they cool)

Unbaked wafer logs can be kept in the refrigerator up to 5 days, and can be frozen for up to 1 month.

Guacamole

Juliet famously pined, “What’s in a name? that which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet.”  Of course she was considering handsome young Romeo whose family name represented an ancient feud and was, one might say, the Hatfield to her McCoy.  But names matter, at least in some matters they do, and sometimes for odd reasons.

Consider the Avocado.  Its real, rather, its original name, ahuacate, is an Aztec word for a certain part of the male reproductive equipment that resembles the, ahem, sack-like shape of the avocado.  Get the picture?

20170506_075758

the ingredients are ready

The folks who wanted to market the oily fruit to Americans certainly got a picture – one can only imagine their faces when someone explained the name.  I suspect they had nightmares of rival campaigns trying to denigrate and rebrand their product as Aztec testicles. Fortunately for the avocado farmers, the renaming worked; and that’s also fortunate for us – just imagine a world without avocado.

Guacamole, like popcorn, chocolate, and chewing gum, dates back to the Aztec Empire, too.  In fact, the basic recipe hasn’t changed very much: avocado, tomato, onion, some hot pepper and cilantro.  And many folks will argue that the basic recipe is all you need.  But we know that history and available ingredients change recipes all the time – not to mention the human drive to mix things up.

20170506_080743

chips and dip anyone?

And this is exactly what Mahasti’s recipe does.  While it stays true to the basics, the addition of both mango and blueberry give the dip a surprising depth of flavor and pops of delicate sweetness.  Mango’s texture is a perfect substitute for tomatoes in this variation while the blueberries add an additional kind of fun bite to the eating of it.

The fruit has a tasty interaction with the jalapeno, too – the heat of the pepper actually accentuates the sweetness of the fruit while the blueberries in particular act as an internal balm to the jalapeno’s warmth.  There’s gotta be some food science to explain it, all, but, all I know is that this mix is uniquely delicious.

20170506_075243 (1)

the rumble in progress

This recipe also has the distinction of being the winning Guacamole in the soon to be legendary contest: Guac Rumble 2017 between Mahasti and WBIR’s Daniel Sechtin.  Certainly Daniel’s traditional version was delicious – especially with his deft use of serrano peppers and garlic; but Mahasti’s version swayed the judges by sheer force of flavor, and, of course, because it’s awfully attractive, too.

Tomato Head’s “Better than Daniel’s” Guacamole

½ Mango

2 TBL Jalapeno, chopped

3 TBL Cilantro, chopped

3 TBL Red Onion, chopped

3 Ripe Avocado

½ cup Fresh Blooberries

1 TBL Lime Juice

½ tsp Salt

Cut ½ mango off, remove the flesh with a spoon and chop into small pieces and place in a medium bowl.

Chop Jalapeno, cilantro and red onions, and add them to the bowl.  Cut avocado in half and remove pits.  Score the avocados into sections, and scoop out into the bowl.  Add blueberries, lime juice and salt.  Mix well smashing the avocados with the side of the spoon a little if too chunky.

Serve Guacamole with chips as an appetizer, or alongside tacos, or enchiladas.

Lemon Cake

For many juvenile Southerners, like young and tender me, lemon lives in the libation section of the memory because it of its inextricable association with tall and frosty vessels of our beloved iced tea.  And though a bright yellow wedge of citrus perched happily on the edge of a glass signals sweet refreshment for some, it is a vision that makes my tongue curl in abject terror.

You see, while my child hood was, largely, a sweet time that was filled with culinary delights provided by my Mamaws,

Getting Ready to Mix

Getting Ready to Mix

including one, Mamaw Ethel, who was not only a fine cook but also a master baker, it was also a time of certain frugalities.  Though Mamaw Ethel would splurge on any number of cake ingredients, for her nearly constant companion, a giant jar of iced tea, she was content to spike her beverage with a healthy dollop of commercially concentrated lemon juice from a pale green bottle that lived in the door of her fridge.

Perhaps you can see the appeal?  When compared to the cost of real lemons, this was a bargain of nearly incomparable magnitude.

But to poor, lil’ ole me who was accustomed to liking so many of the things at Mamaw’s table, the accidental and inevitable and always shocking swallow of her overly faux-lemoned tea was ruinous to my normally sweet complexion.

And thus it has ever been.  To this day, good southern folk smile indulgently at the village idiot who orders “Iced tea, no fruit.”

And after all those years of suffering through the vile torture of sweet natured folks who just couldn’t  believe that anybody would want tea without lemon,  it has taken a long time for me to see the lemon as a friend.

Ready to Eat

Ready to Eat

But I am not alone.  Little did I know that I was experiencing literally some of the most potent figurative aspects of this particular citrus.  For in painting and in other matters artistic, the lemon may represent bitterness or wealth.  The lemon’s pith, as I imagine you know, is a tongue bending taste – all on its own it’s fiercely bitter to my mouth – which, according to various voices on the inter-webs, is what you’re supposed to understand should you see a peeled lemon in a painting.  It’s certainly what I see when I recall Mamaw’s free-flowing lemon in a jar.

Likewise, like black pepper and other spices, lemon once was a hard to get and expensive provision.  If there was a lemon on your table, your neighbors might shake their head and cluck, “You can’t hide money…”

I don’t think Mamaw worried what the neighbors thought – I suspect she was just keeping her pennies for better uses: she did make a luxurious Coconut Cream Cake at a time with when coconut was much dearer in rural East Tennessee than it is now.

At any rate, I avoided lemon bars, slandered lemon ice-box pie, and nearly gagged at the thought of lemon cake for years.  But it was, in fact, a well glazed lemon pound cake that changed my mind and my sweet life forever.

Of course, I didn’t know there was lemon lurking in every bite of that beautiful cake – it was the first pound cake that ever I saw crowned with a layer of nearly sculpted white glaze.  It was perfect, and it was love at first sight; and even after the first bite, infused though it was with lemon, lemon, lemon, I was enthralled like Romeo (but without similar consequences).

The bright and happy sweetness of fresh lemon well blended with sugar and flour was so delightful, I even wanted to kiss the little bit of zest I found lying in wait in each mouthful.  I did not eat this cake delicately, nor did I eat slowly or modestly with good sense.  I ate my second slice with the same ravenous mouth that bolted down the first.  I am not ashamed.  I had years of eating to make up for.

Thus, with all due respect to Mamaw, it pleases me more than I want to admit that Mahasti has opted to share this particular Flour Head recipe.  It is, methinks, the lemon loaf that greets the soul at paradise.  It’s moist enough as it is with a generous cloud of sour cream, but once you add the lemon syrup and seal it with a kiss, er, that is, a smooth layer of lemon glaze, you may feel compelled to sing and, perhaps, quote Shakespeare.

Flour Head Bakery’s Lemon Loaf with Fresh Berries

For the Cake:

Even Better with Berries

Even Better with Berries

4 large eggs

1 1/3 cup Sour Cream

1 1/3 cup Granulated Sugar

2/3 cup oil

3 TBL Lemon Zest

2 TBL Lemon Juice

2 c All Purpose Flour

2 2/3 tsp Baking Powder

2/3 tsp Salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease and flour a 9x 5 loaf pan and set aside.

In a medium bowl whisk together eggs, sour cream, sugar and oil. Add lemon Zest and Lemon Juice. In another bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Gradually add the flour mixture to the egg mixture and whisk just until combined. Some lumps will be left; don’t overmix.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Drop the oven temperature to 325 and bake another 35 minutes or until the internal temperature reaches 200 degrees or a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

While the cake is baking prepare the lemon syrup and lemon glaze.

Lemon Syrup:

2 TBL Lemon Juice

3 TBL Confectioner’s sugar

After you remove the cake from the oven, and while it is still hot and in the pan, spoon the lemon syrup over the top of the cake. Allow cake to cool in the pan for 30 minutes to an hour. Remove the cake from the pan, onto a cooling rack or plate.

Lemon Glaze:

1 1/3 cup confectioner’s sugar

3 TBL Lemon Juice

1 TBL Lemon Zest

Carefully pour the glaze over the entire length of the cake, and smooth it out with the back of a spoon, covering the top.

Slice and serve with fresh berries.

Peanut Butter Sandwich Day

Open faced and ready to eat

Open faced and ready to eat

As a younger person, I never grasped the concept of comfort food. For me, food fell into only two categories – things I liked and things I didn’t.  And the categorization was complicated – one might assume that peanut butter was in one category or another, but it wasn’t.  A piece of bread, spread thick with the smooth and creamy nut butter was something likeable unless it was it was folded in half (or topped with more bread), in which case I didn’t like it. No, not one bit.

I can still remember my poor father’s baffled expression when I wouldn’t eat the snack that only moments before I had noisily craved.  What he didn’t understand was that there was a vast difference between a peanut butter sandwich and what I called a peanut butter top. And so, when he enacted the dreadful fold, the craving died and the luster was off the nut – as I’m certain he thought I was off my nut, too.

I couldn’t explain it.  It just was – might as well ask me why I have a big toe.  I just do.

As a grown person, I don’t have that particular obsession anymore, well, not in the same degree.  Nowadays, peanut butter sandwiches have zero appeal without jelly, but I retain an admittedly strange obsession with canapes and other foods served open-faced.  And there is nothing that catches my heart, appetite, and eye quite like an open faced cookie.  For it was the thumbprint cookie that revealed not only why I turned my countenance from Daddy’s sandwich but also transformed my inexplicable obsession into explicable reason.

At least to my mind.

My mother was fond of sandwich cookies – Vienna fingers or vanilla creams were a constant and welcome presence in the pantry.  But there was one day, a glorious and epiphanous day, when some kind and generous soul gifted mother with a bag of Pepperidge Farm Strawberry thumbprint cookies.

Almost Finished

Almost Finished

Oh joyous day – every obsessive nerve in my little body quivered – here was the peanut butter top of cookies, and it had jam.  JAM!  But most importantly it was then that I knew! I knew why the peanut butter top was essential, and the peanut butter sandwich was vile.  It was at the first moment of biting that cookie when I understood that the open face always smelled better and! And! AND! the impression of the first bite was not dominated by the bread or the cookie but was shared equally with the always magnificent, always delightful filling!

First impressions DO matter.

More important than my own epiphany, now my poor father would feel the sting of my refusal less keenly!  He would understand, as I understood, that my rejection of the sandwich was a textural and olfactive thing and not some oedipal grudge.  And he would no longer think that I was off my nut.

Alas, fathers, like children, I suppose, don’t always act like we want them to do– even 45 years later my dad remains uncertain about my sanity.  But I know – and that’s enough.

And while my affection for peanut butter has changed significantly, there are two things that have become essential truth in my eating life: One is that peanut butter is always better with jelly; the other, good food with good open faced presentation is the road to Nirvana. And thumbprint cookies are the fast lane.

Sunday, April 2nd is National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day.  You may celebrate with a sandwich if you must, or you can really put the hammer down by making Peanut Butter and Jelly Thumbprint Cookies.  Mahasti has provided a recipe below – and will show you how easy it is to celebrate in open-faced style on WBIR’s Weekend Today.

And while baking these cookies and celebrating food holidays may only affirm your family’s worry that you’re off your nut, they’ll be grateful that you’re tasteful about it.

Flour Head Bakery’s Peanut Butter and Jelly thumbprint cookies

Ground Peanuts:

The batter ready for scooping

The batter ready for scooping

½ cup unsalted, roasted peanuts ground fine

1/3 cup granulated sugar

Place peanuts in the bowl of a food processor and grind until fine.  Place peanuts in a bowl, add sugar and set aside.

For the cookie:

½ cup unsalted butter at room temperature

¾ cup creamy peanut butter

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1/3 cup packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

2 Tablespoons whole milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

Rolling along.

Rolling along.

Place butter in bowl of stand mixer and beat with the paddle attachment.  Add sugar and beat until fluffy.  Add egg and mix until well combined.  Add vanilla and milk and mix well.  In a separate bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt.  With the mixer on low, gradually add the flour mixture and mix until all the flour is mixed in.  Place the cookie dough in the refrigerator for an hour.  Remove the dough and scoop into balls.  Roll the dough balls in the ground peanut mixture and place 1.5 inches apart on a parchment lined baking sheet.  Bake for 12 minutes.  Remove from oven, allow the cookies to cool for 1 minute, then gently press your thumb in the middle.  Spoon a small amount of your favorite jam in the imprint and serve.

Makes 20 – 24 1 inch cookies.

 

Tomato Head’s Red Lentil and Bulgur Soup

Bulgur.

I hate to admit it, but there’s something about that word that puts me off.  Maybe it’s because it sounds like vulgar or because in the years before my food awakening I had no idea what it was and just assumed that I’d hate it.  It’s safer if you don’t try things, right?

Of course, that, as they say, is bull…

And in the case of bulger, that would be exceptional bull.

You may have had this cooked and cracked bit of wheat grain if you’ve had tabbouleh. Bulgur has played major role in Middle Eastern cuisine for centuries, and it is a bona fide ancient grain with 4000 year old ties to the Hittites, Hebrews and the Babylonians to boot.

Bulgur is wheat that gets a partial cooking before it’s dried and cracked.  The grain has a nutty flavor and a substantial

Bulgur and Red Lentils

Bulgur and Red Lentils

and chewy texture that’s a very satisfying by itself, in salads, and, as in our recipe today, in soup, too.

Bulgur comes packing a bunch of good things.  A cup of cooked bulgur has about 150 calories, is loaded with 8 grams of fiber, 5 and a half grams of protein, almost 10% of an adult woman’s recommended iron intake (and ~22% of men’s), and a healthy dose of thiamin, niacin, folate and vitamin B-6.  All that and it can taste good too.

Bulgur works well with lots of seasonings and matches well with various foods, but today we’re pairing it with its long time nutritional partner in crime, the amazing lentil.  Those of us with certain Sunday School backgrounds may remember the infamous bowl of lentils that Jacob used to acquire Esau’s birthright – like bulgur, lentils have an ancient pedigree: the legume was cultivated along the banks of the Euphrates some 4 millennia ago and remain an important part of that region’s diet.

If you combine these two foods you have a whopping bunch of fiber, protein, and vitamins; if you combine them in our soup recipe, you’ll be less concerned about how healthy your food is than with how well you’re eating.  Mahasti combines cinnamon, cumin, cayenne, and turmeric in this soup which echo the flavor of the history that these two ancient staples share.  More importantly, the spice blend creates a fragrant aroma and deceptively rich taste.  Both lentils and bulgur bring a lot of texture to the pot, so it’s a hearty mouthful of satisfaction that tastes as good as it smells.

 

Tomato Head’s Red Lentil and Bulgur Soup

The Finished Soup

The Finished Soup

½  onion, chopped

½ cup oil

1 Tbl Chopped Garlic

3/4 cups Red Lentils

3/4 cups Bulgur Wheat

7 cups water

3 cups Tomato Juice

1/4 cup Fresh Lemon Juice

1/4 cup tomato paste

1.5 TBL Turmeric, ground

1 tsp Cayenne pepper

2 tsp  Cumin, ground

1/4 tsp Cracked Black Pepper

½ tsp Cinnamon

1 TBL Salt

1.5  TBL Sugar

 

for Garnish:

Chopped Mint

Chopped Cucumber

 

Heat oil in a medium pot over medium heat.  Add onion and Garlic and sauté for 1-2 minutes.  Add red lentils, bulgur, water, tomato juice, lemon juice, tomato paste and spices.  Lower heat and simmer, stirring occasionally for 30 -40 minutes until lentils are soft.

Serve topped with chopped mint, and chopped cucumber.

Tomato Head’s Chile Rellenos Casserole

Casserole is a magic word.

It’s also a word with an excellent genealogy.  Its immediate roots are from the French language and a word for sauce pan, which seems reasonable enough, especially when you consider that we use the word for both the cooking vessel and the food within it.

But if you trace further you’ll find that the word relates to the Latin word for bowl, and the ancient Greek “kyathion” which is like a pet name for the “dipper for the wine bowl.”  So, if you ponder it, the word casserole both begins and ends with sharing.

Casserole has a long tradition of spreading the wealth – for those of us who grew up in the rural South, a church social often meant long tables laden with oblong and deep serving vessels full of tuna bake, hamburger pie, scalloped potatoes with ham, and any number of dishes full of creamy chicken concoctions or green beans dressed with fried onions and cream of mushroom soup.

For me, those are the bright memories of an otherwise difficult relationship with the little fundamentalist church that dominated so many of my greener days.  But for every recollection of that experience that troubles me, there’s also the image of my Mamaw Ethel and every other good cook who would fill the tables of a church supper with food.  Mamaw and her cohorts always brought extra to those gatherings – even if their own pantries were thin, it was essential that the church supper was a feast.  Never a matter of pride, they believed in having more than enough to share.

And if you were a visitor caught unawares by the feast, or perhaps a poorer member who couldn’t contribute much or anything to the table, then those sweet ladies would practically manhandle you to the front of line.  For them, the only sin on that day was if anyone went away hungry, and the only message to preach was to share and share alike.

And sharing, as you may know, is a particularly potent form of magic: it has the power to create friends and banish loneliness; it warms the heart and comforts the sad; and for traditions and thinkers as diverse as Lao Tzu and St. Francis, sharing is the key to happiness as well as the root of goodness.

It may seem a little too much to expect from the humble casserole.  Cynics may see only that casseroles are convenient, easy ways to feed a crowd.  But as far as I can tell, if you’re even thinking about feeding a crowd, then you’re on the track.

Even so, casseroles don’t have to be open and dump a can conveniences or concoctions of dubious merit – and they shouldn’t be.  As you can see below in Mahasti’s recipe, a well-considered casserole not only shares lots of food, it shares lots of flavor.  In this case, the excellent taste of Chile Rellenos is deconstructed into layers that are simple to assemble without sacrificing the savory joy of the original dish.

Perhaps you’ll tune into WBIR tomorrow morning for Weekend Today – Mahasti will be live showing you how easy it is to make magic and share the love.

Tomato Head’s Chile Rellenos Casserole

3 Poblano Peppers

Rinse Peppers and place on a cookie sheet under the broiler. Turn peppers until charred on all side.

Remove the peppers from the oven, place in a covered container and allow to cool. When peppers are cool enough to handle, with gloved hands, peel and de-seed peppers. Dice Peppers and set aside.

After Broiling, Turn your oven to 425 degrees.

 

½ cup Masa Harina

¾ cups Whole MIlk

Mix Masa Harina into milk and set aside.

 

¼ cup Vegetable Oil

1 cup Onion, Diced

1 lb ground Pork or Beef

½ jar Frontera Ancho Adobo

1- 28 oz can Fire Roasted Diced Tomato (puree ½ of the can in the blender – leave the other half diced)

2 tsp ground Cumin

2 tsp Salt

½ – 1 tsp Cayenne Pepper

½ tsp paprika

2 tsp Sugar

½ cup Cilantro, chopped

2 cups Shredded Monterey Jack cheese

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and sauté until fragrant. Add ground meat, sautéing to break up lumps until meat is cooked through. Add Adobo, and sauté until meat is coated with sauce. Add remaining ingredients, as well as chopped poblanos and cook on low for 10 minutes.

Pour meat mixture into an 8×11 baking dish and top with 2 cups of shredded cheese.

2 egg whites

1 tsp salt

½ tsp Cracked Black Pepper

In a stand mixer with a whip attachment or with a hand mixer, beat egg whites until stiff peaks. Gently fold Masa mixture, salt and pepper into egg whites.

Pour egg mixture over cheese layer and gently spread out to cover entire surface of baking dish. Place the casserole in oven and bake for 20 – 25 minutes, until golden brown. Let cool on wire rack for 10 – 15 minutes. Serve with sour cream, chopped onion, chopped cilantro, sliced jalapenos, corn tortillas and or corn chips.

Serves 4-6 people.

Chicken Enchiladas

I’m ashamed, sometimes, to admit the truth of my personal history with the enchilada.  There are two chapters in that story, neither is particularly impressive for culinary authenticity, and I’m not sure which came first: One chapter is set in a Taco Bell; the other, in Velveeta.

If you’re an eater of a certain age who dabbled in fast food in the errant days of youth, you may recall an entrée called the Enchirito.  I remember it because I ate it. A lot.  Served in an oval cardboard bowl, it was a corn tortilla folded around beans, ground beef, a sprinkle of onion, then smothered in red sauce, and capped with dollop of sour cream and a sliced black olive.  And it was heaven.  I’m not sure what it was about this particular assemblage that set my little taste buds a-tingle, but I craved it.  And it was a treat, too, because this was back in the day when Taco Bell was a pricey proposition – long before the dollar menu was a twinkle in some CEO’s eye.

The second chapter happened at home when Mom and Aunt Ellner discovered large flour tortillas that they could stuff

Pre-rolling

Pre-rolling

with ground beef and fat slabs of processed cheese.  You could roll those babies up early in the day and just leave them to hang out and chill until the extended family finally made it to the party.   A quick dollop of sauce and a few minutes in a hot oven, and insto-presto, there was a delicious and exotic feast for everyone.  And ooey, gooey sorta cheesy they were – which is to say, delightful, and, therefore, a big hit at family hoedowns.

But my family wasn’t unique in that regard; enchiladas have long been popular in the average American home.  In fact, the first printed mention of an enchilada in the states showed up in a church cookbook from the Heartland itself.  The “Centennial Buckeye Cookbook” was first published in 1876 by the good ladies of the First Congregational Church of Marysville, Ohio to help raise money for a parsonage.

And that recipe (contributed by the honorable Anson Safford, Governer of Arizona) like Aunt Ellner’s recipe, and Taco Bell’s too, was true to the concept of the enchilada as formulated by the Aztecs.  An authentic enchilada isn’t difficult to achieve as the essential element is that there is a tortilla in a chile sauce.

Beautiful to see and to eat

Beautiful to see and to eat

Sadly, Aunt Ellner got the tortilla wrong – authenticity demands corn – but we’ll cut her some slack ‘cause we like her and her cooking, too. Besides, I imagine that you can use whatever tortilla suits you without upsetting anybody – especially after the first bite.   And it’s unlikely that the ole Aztecs loaded up their tortilla with bright yellow, melty cheese, but I dunno -I never asked them.

What remains really right and important about the enchilada is that it’s easy to assemble ahead of time, it’s delicious and, if you’re a sharing kind of person, it’s pretty impressive, if simple party fare, too.

That’s especially true of the Tomato Head’s super simple and mighty tasty version.  If you’re up early – you can catch Mahasti making the treat live on WBIR’s weekend today – if not well, we’ll put a link right here so you can check whenever you’re ready to cook.

 

 

Tomato Head’s Chicken Enchilada

 

For the Chicken:

1 lb Boneless, Skinless Chicken Breast

1/3 cup Oil

½ large Onion, largely diced

8 cups of Water

1 Tbl Salt

To Assemble the Enchiladas:

2 -8 oz packages Frontera Enchilada Sauce

8 – Corn or small Flour Tortillas

½ lb Shredded Monterey Jack Cheese

Sour Cream

Chopped onion

Cilantro

Heat the oil, in a medium pot over medium heat. Add onion and sauté until translucent. Add chicken breast, water and salt. Increase heat to high, when water starts to boil, reduce heat to low and allow chicken to simmer for 20 minutes until done.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Remove the chicken from the broth; let the chicken cool until it is cool enough to handle. Shred the chicken by pulling it apart. Set aside.

Pour 1/3 of the packet of enchilada sauce into the bottom of an 8 X 11 baking dish. Arrange 3 or 4 corn tortillas on your work surface. Place approximately ¼ – 1/3 cup chicken on each tortilla followed by ¼ cup of shredded cheese. Roll the tortillas up to form cylinders. Place the tortillas seam side down. Repeat the process until all the tortillas have been filled and place in the baking dish.

Pour the remaining sauce over the rolled tortillas, making sure they are covered entirely. Sprinkle any remaining cheese on top of the sauce. Bake the enchiladas for 20 minutes – or until the cheese melts and the sauce is starting to bubble.

Remove the dish from the oven. Serve with Sour Cream, cilantro and chopped onion.

Serve immediately.

Serves 4.

Roasted Pumpkin and Poblano Pepper Soup

 

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Fall Goodness

It’s about that time, you know, when the Great Pumpkin descends and showers candy and other goodies upon cute little ghouls, goblins, superheroes, a handful of witches and miniaturized versions of the walking dead.  And there are larger folks, sometimes also dressed in strange attire roaming about, too, herding the little bands of the costumed from treat to treat.  A few of these Halloween shepherds are happy to snag whatever funky candy that the kids won’t eat, and yet, sad but true, some of us aged ghouls are a little too sweet already.

It’s not that I wouldn’t like to make a diet of Skittles and chocolate bars, but most colorfully wrapped candy leaves much to be desired for my appetite.  Of course, if you’ve got a fat cupcake or hefty wedge of peanut butter pie, that works, but, truth be told, the older I get, the more I crave the warm and savory when little spirits are indulging in a sugar rush.

So, when Mahasti was planning her visit to WBIR this morning, I was thrilled that we would be learning about a savory seasonal something that’s super suitable for sharing with big hobgoblins who might knock on your door looking for a less sugary Halloween treat: Pumpkin Soup.

For those of you who have reached your Pumpkin Spice threshold for the year, please don’t give up on us yet – this pumpkin spice will re-fire your engines and heat your endorphins into full steam.  Tomato Head’s Roasted Pumpkin and Poblano Pepper Soup features a heart and head warming blend of spices with a calming and comforting dollop of heavy cream to create a treat that will revive and refresh even the most dead-on-her-feet zombie.

Mahasti’s recipe includes both Poblano and habanero pepper along with a touch of ginger.  Poblanos, of course, are only mildly spicy but have a rich and warming, almost earthy flavor that’s a fantastic match to pumpkin’s also slightly earthy but buttery and mildly sweet flavor.  Habanero lends some heat but, better yet, it contributes a bright personality that, with the ginger, gives an extra tingle to each mouthful of this potage.

It’s a creamy comfort that gets a fun crunch from the addition of toasted pumpkin seeds, which, IMHO, is one of the great under-sung heroes in the pantheon of snacks.

What’s particularly nice about most creamy pumpkin soup is that it’s great warm, at room temperature and cool, too – so despite the warm Halloween that we’re expecting, this soup can easily match your mood and the forecast, too.  And because it’s pureed to a silky smooth texture, it’s easy to serve a dollop in a cup for a quick snack or an on the go goody for shepherds of the fast moving and ambitious trick or treaters – after all, Halloween comes but once a year and when the Great Pumpkin finally arrives – best grab it while the getting’s good.

You can see how easy this recipe is to put together by checking out Mahasti’s appearance on WBIR’s Weekend Today at this link:  http://www.wbir.com/life/food/soups/tomato-head-pumpkin-and-poblano-soup/344125793

 

Tomato Head’s Roasted Pumpkin and Poblano Pepper Soup

 

¼ cup oil

1 cup onion, diced

1 inch piece of ginger, peeled, chopped

¼ Habanero pepper

1 medium size Poblano pepper, roasted, seeded and peeled

2 cups Roasted Pumpkin

1/3 cup toasted pumpkin seeds

1 tsp salt

2.5 cups water

1 cup heavy cream

In a medium pot, over medium heat, sauté the onion in oil until translucent. Add ginger, habanero, peeled poblano, roasted pumpkin, pumpkin seeds, salt, and water. Bring mixture to a boil, then reduce heat and cook for 10- 15 minutes until ginger is soft. Puree the soup with an immersion blender **. Add the heavy cream and simmer for 5-10 minutes. Serve topped with toasted pumpkin seeds.

4-6 people

** Do not blend hot soup in a traditional blender; allow soup to cool and then puree the mixture. Return the mixture to the pot and bring to a boil, then add heavy cream and simmer for 5 – 10 minutes longer.

 

© 2016 The Tomato Head Site by: Robin Easter Design