Chicken Piccata with Mushrooms

I have had this dish at least one bagillion times in my life.  I just never really knew that it had a name.  It has been a constant at work lunches, banquets, etc.  It was only recently while I was staying in a Little Italy part of the city for a convention that I learned what the name was.  We wandered into a quaint little Italian market with a restaurant attached, and I looked at the menu.  I was sold at "caper, lemon, butter sauce."  Yes please.

Well, I had to get through the salad and spaghetti first (this place was a legit Italian eatery, let me tell you).  And then came a beautifully golden, thinly-sliced chicken breast topped with capers and mushrooms.  In my mind I said "Eureka!" which is the perfectly normal thing to say in situaitons such as this.  I just spared my dinner guest the inevitable awkwardness of my running through the streets naked yelling it, as legend says it originally was.

I have removed the breading from the version I had, thinking that a pan-seared chicken breast has a better consistency to it, and a little less weight to it.  Cooking the capers in the oil first distributes their distinctive taste throughout the entire dish, giving it a little more briny kick.

Chicken Piccata with Mushrooms

• 4 thinly-sliced chicken breasts (or 2 breasts, butterfly-cut in half)
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons capers, drained and rinsed
• 3 tablespoons butter
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• juice of 1 lemon
• zest of one lemon
• 2/3 cup chicken stock
• about 1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
  
• 2 tablespoons chopped parsley
• Parmesan cheese, to garnish
• salt and pepper

Place the chicken breasts between sheets of aluminum foil and pound with a mallet until evenly thin throughout.  Salt and pepper both sides generously.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a saute pan over medium heat.  Add the capers and stir for about 2 minutes.  You don't want them mushy--just a little seared.  Remove the capers, retaining as much of the oil as you can.

To the same pan, add the butter.  When melted, add the chicken breasts (you can do 2 at a time: don't crowd the pan).  Sear until golden brown on both sides, about 4-5 minutes per side.  Remove, and keep close.  Retain as much butter and oil in the pan as possible.

To the drippings and butter in the pan, add the garlic and saute for about a minute.  Then add the lemon juice, zest, and chicken broth.  Let simmer for a few minutes, until reduced by about a third.  Add back the capers, as well as the mushrooms and parsley.  Stir until the mushrooms are slightly soft.  Place the chicken breasts back in the pan, and spoon over the sauce for a minute or two, until heated through. 

Serve on top of your favorite pasta with Parmesan cheese. 

Do the prep first. That's why they call it "prep."

Life lesson learned: make sure all your ingredients are ready to go.  I have a great big band-aid on my finder right now reminding me that when the onions and garlic are sizzling on the stove, the moment for chopping tomatoes is past.  A very brief glance to the pan in the midst of my frantic, last-minute tomato dicing led to my beautifully sharp Wusthof knife slicing a nice little gash into my left pointer finger.

Seriously, people.  Just chop the tomatoes, then put the pan on the stove.  Your fingers will thank you. 

Caramelized Cipollini Onions

I know people who say that they don't like onions.  I don't understand this philosophy.  I mean, let's be serious here, I'm not going to just go eat a great big Vidalia like an apple anytime soon, but can you make such a sweeping, general statement?  Do you really want to banish onions from cooking entirely?  Onions are in just about everything, people.  Let's open our minds.  Wikipedia states that evidences of onion use can be found dating back to 5000 BC.  Are you gonna' fight with 7000 years of human culture?  I thought not.

More often than not, people say it's the texture of the onions that they don't like.  I think that's where cipollini onions can help us.  These are not regular onions, people.  They caramelize beautifully with a soft texture, they're sweet without the strong bite of other onions, and frankly, they look really cool.  However, they are nasty little buggers to peel, so they're not quite perfect.  But they're probably pretty close.

I love them, and I'm pretty sure that you will, too (yes you, the onion-hating people who are reading this who know who you are).  I was cooking a few of these up the other day for some people who had ever heard of this concept before, and they just kind of looked at the pan and asked, "Are those onions?"  Yes, they are.  "Do we just eat them whole?"  Yes, you do.  Oh boy, do you.

Caramelized Cipollini Onions

• 1 pound cipollini onions, peeled and hard roots carefully cut off, leaving as much onion as possible
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• About 1/4 cup beef stock
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• salt and pepper
• freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 2-3 large basil leaves, thinly sliced.

In a heavy-bottomed skillet, eat the butter and olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add the onions, and stir frequently until browned, a few minutes on each side.  Don't overcook, or they'll get kind of mushy, and that's a shame. 

Remove the onions from the pan, and keep them close.  Add the beef stock and vinegar, and stir, deglaze the bottom of the pan as much as possible.  If there are any browned bits on the pan, dissolve them back into the liquid, because you don't want any of that sweet, oniony goodness to go to waste.  When the liquid has reduced by about half, add the onions back, allowing them to reheat.  Top with salt and pepper, Parmesan cheese, and basil.  

Pumpkin, Ginger French Toast

Some recipes are born of inspiration.  Others are born of necessity.  Necessities like, "Oh boy, I have to make brunch for my sisters in 10 minutes.  Shoot.  What do I have?"  Turns out a leftover loaf of french bread, a can of pumpkin puree in the pantry, and some real life maple syrup can make a convincing brunch entree.  I thought the pumpkin and ginger had a nice presence without being overpowering.  As my sister put it, "You know, I don't really like French toast.  Who really likes soggy bread?  Well let me tell you, this soggy bread I like!" 

Pumpkin, Ginger French Toast

• 2 loaves day-old french bread
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 cup canned pumpkin
• 1 cup milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• pinch salt 
• Maple syrup, for serving
  

 Cut the loaves of bread on the diagonal into approximately 1.5-inch slices (about 15-20 slices, total).

Whisk together the remaining ingredients, except for the syrup, until smooth and homogeneous.  Heat a large, flat-bottomed skillet or griddle on the stove over medium-high heat.  Use some butter or non-stick spray to grease the pan.

Quickly dip both sides of the bread into the egg and pumpkin mixture until both sides are coated, but not soggy (you only want the mixture on the exterior.  Place on the heated griddle, and cook until golden, about 3-4 minutes a side.  Serve quickly, while still warm, with the maple syrup. 

Pears with Asiago, Cashews, and Balsamic Vinaigrette

This recipe was an accident.  I was trying to make just a quick salad to go with some pizza, but I completely forgot to buy any lettuce.  In our American, "iceberg lettuce + ranch = salad" minds, this may have been seen as a terribly tragedy.  However, will just a little mind-freeing, creativity, and reassurance that these flavors actually do work together surprisingly well, the salad was prepared and presented sans lettuce.  The show must go on.  It actually worked really well.  The sweet pears and salty cheese work together really well, and the vinaigrette and cashews are a great accompaniment.

So forgot the lettuce.  You don't need it.  Take all of the good tasting things in the salad (which typically isn't the lettuce), and serve that with just a little dressing.  All of the goodness without the fluff.  Go on--live dangerously.  You can do it.

Pears with Asiago, Cashews, and Balsamic Vinaigrette

• 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• 1 tablespoon honey
• pinch salt
• 3 large d'Anjou, Bartlett, or comice pears, cut lengthwise into slices
• Asiago cheese,  made into curls with a vegetable peeler
• roasted cashew halves

Whisk together the oil, vinegar, honey, and salt.  Toss gently with the pear slices. Layer the pears slices on a serving planner or individual dishes.  Top with the cheese curls and cahsews, and serve immediately.

Fancy cheese = party, with a recipe for Goat Cheese with Pepper Jelly thrown in there

This is one of those "not really a recipe but just kind of a cool thing you do" posts, and a commandment to you to go throw a cheese party.  Really, go do it right now.  I was invited by a few friends to a fancy cheese party, and let me tell you, cheese brings people together.  Surprisingly, everyone has an opinion about cheese, and more people than you would think have a particular type of cheese they're really particular about.  You'll probably get a great combination of hard and soft, foreign and domestic, subtle and sharp, etc.  Great times will be had by all.

Just tell everyone to bring their favorite cheese, you provide some bread, crackers, and fruit, and you've got a party.  I decided to bring a log of goat cheese with red pepper jelly.  I love the combination of the tangy cheese with the sweet, slightly spicy jelly.  It also works really well with jalapeno jelly, or if you are lucky enough to live close to a Foster's Market, a bottle of their amazing Seven-pepper jelly.

There really isn't much to this.  Just get some fresh goat cheese and serve it with the jelly.  There.  That was the recipe.  Awesome. Just little tricks, though.  You can slice the cheese with some unflavored, unwaxed dental floss (I keep a spool in my kitchen).  I think it is best served with a fresh, crusty baguette, but you go do whatever you want.  Just have your party now.  Your life will be better.

 

Creamed Peas on Toast

This recipe is retro.  I have no idea if they ate this in the 50's, but to me it kind of seems like something a suburban housewife in a high-waisted plaid skirt would make for her accountant, skinny-tie and chunky glasses-wearing husband to eat watching TV and a mustard sofa.  But in all honesty, I can just barely remember the mid-80's, so I really don't know.  Most of that mental image is probably based on my last watching of "Edward Scissorhands," which is an amazing movie (although it scared me to death until I was probably 21 years old).

My mom used to make a recipe similar to this quite often, and there is a sentimental place in my heart for it.  So maybe it's more retro to the early 90's than the mid 50's, but in any case, it's good and filling.

The other day I realized it had been quite some time since eating a vegetable (these things happen in a bachelor grad student's home occasionally), and looking around the fridge and freezer, this was the solution.  If I wanted a healthy, and nutritious dinner, obviously the solution was to cover vegetables with cream, butter, and cheese sauce.  Healthy and happy.  Mmmm good.

 Creamed Peas on Toast


Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 clove, minced garlic
  
• 2 heaping tablespoons flour
• about 1 cup milk (I used about 1/2 milk and 1/2 half-and-half, which I had in the fridge)
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  
• 1 pound frozen peas
• 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons chopped chives
• salt and pepper, to taste
• Toasted bread slices
  

Heat the butter and olive oil in a flat-bottomed saucepan over medium heat.  Saute the garlic until slightly browned.  Add the flour, and stir until it becomes a smooth paste.  Add about 3/4 cup of the milk and stir or whisk well until smooth.  Add additional milk or cream until the desired thickness (you want it thick, but not soupy).  Add the lemon juice.

Add the peas and stir until heated through, but not mushy.    Add the cheese and chives, and stir until the cheese is melted and incorporated.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Serve on toast, or as a side dish.