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Breakfast for dinner

Has this ever happened to you?

It’s just about dinner time. You open up the fridge, and things look pretty barren. You have a few leftover eggs that have a couple of days left in them, a nubbin of cheese, and some weary looking vegetables. Totally time to call in for takeout, no?

Not even!

One of the dishes I love to make when I need to “Macgyver” something together is a frittata. Quick, simple, and a great dumping ground for all those ingredients that might not be at their peak (but would be a shame to throw out), frittatas are entirely customizable to what you have on hand as well as your own personal preferences.

On Sunday night, I had some wilting spinach (not crisp or fresh enough for a raw salad); a carton of eggs; a stubby, almost forgotten slab of white cheddar; a jar of roasted red peppers; some frozen bacon; and some pine nuts.

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Obviously, enough ingredients to make a frittata masterpiece.

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Now here’s the thing. You might say to yourself, “Pine nuts? Roasted peppers? Who keeps this stuff on hand and claims an empty pantry?” (more…)

An awesome recipe to kick off fall…

Like the Mexican Pie I made a few weeks ago, I prepared this chicken dish on Sunday not just for dinner that night, but also for the leftovers I could bring to work with me throughout this week.

What I thought would be a straightforward and tasty chicken dish turned into something pretty special. I don’t know how that happened, and can only theorize that when good ingredients get a little love, a lot of goodness will end up on your plate.

Before you get too excited, I have to admit right here: I was a really bad blogger and didn’t take ANY photos of this recipe. I planned on it being one of those times where it was just me and the food in the kitchen. And I honestly didn’t know I would like this concoction as much as I did.

What I loved about this recipe was how well it bridged the last bits of the San Francisco Indian summer with the first whispers of fall — or in the case of yesterday, the first torrential DOWNPOUR of fall (thank you, Japanese typhoon).

To start, affordable (and flavorful) chicken thighs and legs were browned, then simmered in a yum-tastic sauce made from fresh early girl tomatoes, red wine, herbs, peppers and olives. With the bone-in meat taking an hour long soak in the liquid, the dish gets a healthy dose of collagen (which gelatinzes later), so the sauce has a rich mouthfeel. It’s all very Provençal — if you can’t tell that I totally have France on my mind these days, you need to get with it.

In that vein, I decided to name the recipe Poulet Provençal. I recommend you make it ASAP. But don’t make the same mistake I did — be sure to have a loaf of country bread on hand to soak up this sauce. It’s pretty incredible. I had to make do with drinking the sauce out of the bowl. Such a fat kid.

Poulet Provençal (more…)

October again.

When I was in high school, I took Spanish all four years. I got to be pretty good at it — a mixture of my fascination with foreign languages, and being immersed in it every day for at least an hour. Of course, after not using it during college, I can no longer speak or listen to conversaciones en Español with much ease. It’s true what they say: when it comes to language, you gotta use it or you lose it.

Joe took German, and he doesn’t seem to remember a word of it. All I know is, he says he can’t stand the movie Back to the Future, because they watched it incessantly during his German classes in high school (the English version, no less). I have no idea how he managed to do so well on his AP German exam, because if I show him a German word in a book, or hear something on TV, it’s like he’s trying to translate Ancient Greek.

But when it comes to Oktoberfest, Joe always remembers.

At work this morning, he sent me a note on Gchat asking about dinner. My only stipulation was no salad for a main meal. “Latkes!” he suggested, “With sausage and applesauce and sour cream.”  Totally, random, right?

“I’m not making latkes,” I told him — too many bad memories of being forced to make perfect looking potatoes rösti in culinary school, “but why the sudden hankering for German food?”

“I was just thinking that since it’s Oktoberfest we should do something.”

That was all that needed to be said. I had just the ticket.

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I give you chicken schnitzel, with apple sauce, sauerkraut, and sour cream; Yukon gold potatoes fried in duck fat, schmaltz and brown butter; a simple green side salad; and of course, BEER.

It sounds like a lot of work, but this feast was actually pretty easy to put together. I purchased the sauerkraut, apple sauce, and (obviously) sour cream pre-made. I like Claussen’s sauerkraut — it’s super crisp and doesn’t taste flabby or like it’s soaked in too many preservatives. The duck fat was something I bought months ago, and kept frozen in the freezer. Whenever we make potatoes, I use a little bit.

If you can believe it, bone-in chicken breasts had just been put on sale at the market by my office for $1.99 per pound, so what I thought would be the costliest part of the meal ended up being very affordable.

And instead of using store bought breadcrumbs (ugh — have you ever looked at the ingredient list for dry bread crumbs? Since when did breadcrumbs need 50 ingredients?), I bought some locally made little melba-style toasts, which were all-natural and had no partially hydrogenated oils or random additions of corn syrup. A quick whirl in the Vita-mix and I had the perfect style of breadcrumbs for my schnitzel.

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What can I say? This was so, so yummy. I have the complete recipe — with lots of pictures — right after the jump.

Oktoberfest runs through October 4 (which is next week — hey, where’d September go?!?!). If I were you, I’d make a German themed dinner while you can. All you need to be able to say is köstlich.

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Chicken Schnitzel (more…)

More Mexican Pie, Please

Hang around Joe long enough and you realize that he has integrated many great quotes from South Park into everyday life. A classic example:

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[Click on the picture for video. I initially embedded it, but it had automatic playback. Didn't want to surprise any of you at work!]

Eat too much?

“No more pie.”

Did “just one drink after work” turn into an all night binger where you somehow ended up playing beer pong at the perennially awful Bar None until midnight with your 35 year old co-workers — and you have to wake up at 4:30 am the next day?

“No more Happy Hour pie.”

Get super sunburned in Cabo?

“No more tanning pie.”

“Pie” is the perfect catchall word to denote whatever we’re talking about at any given moment. Of course it can also be used in the reverse. (Ex: “More red-wine-and-Sopranos pie, please.”

The point of me telling you about all this pie? Last weekend, I made a huge casserole that I named, for lack of a better term, Mexican Pie. You’ll see why in a minute. But I purposefully made such a large amount of Mexican Pie so that I could take it for lunch each day this week, and not have to eat out. As much as I adore the restaurants and cafes on Fillmore, eating around there does get pricey, and I need to be saving all the money I can. For the future, sure — retirement and rainy days and all that jazz — but, also, for (more…)

Just don’t ask what’s in it

There’s a counterpart to my grandmother’s beef stroganoff, a recipe dearly loved in my immediate family.  I continue to make it to this day, although very rarely.  Joe has refused to eat this ever since he watched me prepare it, and I can really only bring myself to even shop for the ingredients when I’ve had a very rough day or am sick, since it reminds me of being comforted.

I recently divulged the ingredients of this recipe, a hell spawn of a 50s inspired “from-the-can” casserole, if ever there was one, to a couple of my girlfriends, who are both in the food biz.  They started laughing at the sauce’s first ingredient, recoiled in horror at the second, then laughed again at the composition of the dish.  We were all out together for dim sum, and by the end of my explanation, we were laughing so loudly that the tables nearby were staring.  Typical.

But because of this conversation, I’ve come to the conclusion that all cooks have secret food vices.  I’ve yet to meet a cook that hasn’t been happily (if not somewhat shamefully) consuming some disgusting food in the privacy of their own home, hoping no one finds out (and then ardently defending their vice once it’s been revealed to OTHER cooks).

My two friends, for example, confessed to their mutual love of (more…)