Guest Post: Fried Okra

This post comes from J.Deal, and let me tell you, this girl is legit. If you're trying to become authentically southern, this is the girl to listen to. Raised in Georgia and North Carolina, J has authority when it comes to all things southern where I am just pretending. And friends, there's not much else more southern than fried okra.

Everyone's first reaction when they hear the word okra is, "Ugh, it's slimy," which is not true at all in this case. It's crisp, flavorful, deep fried, and amazing. Go make yourself some right now (extra points if the okra is from the farmer's market and is uber fresh to boot).

Southern Fried Okra
Serves 4.

• 1 lb okra
• 1 c cornmeal
• 1 tbsp salt
• 2 tsp ground black pepper
• 1 c buttermilk
• vegetable oil

Choose okra that is an even green color and 2" - 4" long. Trim stem ends from okra and cut into 3/4" lengths. Soak in buttermilk for 15 minutes.

Mix cornmeal, salt, and pepper in a plastic bag. Add okra and toss to coat.

Heat 1/2" oil in a 10" skillet (cast iron is traditional) over medium high heat. When oil begins to shimmer, sift excess cornmeal mixture from okra and add to skillet. Cook, turning occasionally, until golden brown. (Stir gently to avoid losing coating.) Drain on paper towels and salt again if needed.

Broccoli Salad

People, I don't measure. I'm sorry. Sometimes I try to measure, knowing full well that I'm going to have to write up a list of ingredients to put on the blog, but it's just not that easy. As you go along, you realize that you need a little more of this, or you just use handfulls rather than measuring cups. Sometimes you measure all the ingredients, but then you throw a little more on top as a garnish at the end. People, I just assume that you are intelligent and creative and will add more or less onion if you feel like it.

So, with that out of the way, let's talk about the recipe.

I don't particularly think of this as anything fancy or special--you can find this is the deli isle of almost any grocery store on earth next to the cole slaw and potato salad--but I pulled this one out at a church potluck, and people loved it. To mean, this salad screams summer, grilling, outdoors, picnics, etc. Most of the time, the bacon and cheese are most prominent in this salad, but I really like it to be a little sweeter with more emphasis on the cashews and cranberries. Hopefully you like it, too.

Broccoli Salad

for the salad

• About 2 pounds broccoli crowns, chopped into small, bite-size pieces
• 1/2 red onion, finely chopped
• 2/3 cup dried cranberries, plus additional for garnishing
  
• 2/3 heaping cup roasted cashew halves, plus additional for garnishing
  
• about 1/3 cup shredded cheddar cheese (I pretty much just garnish with it)
• 2-3 slices crispy bacon, chopped

for the dressing

• 1.5 cup mayonnaise
  
• 1.5 tablespoons fruity vinegar (I use a raspberry white balsamic)
• 2 heaping tablespoons sugar

Mix all the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, mix the dressing well. Immediately before serving (you don't want the nuts to get soggy), fold the dressing into the salad, stirring until well-coated. Top with retained cranberries and cashews.

Pasta with Tomato Mascarpone Sauce

I've got a confession, and most people are shocked when the hear it. I really don't like pasta all that much. I mean, the concept of pasta is fine, but it seems like anytime you go to an Italian restaurant, you just end up with a big homogeneous bowl of pasta and sauce. Every bite is exactly the same. Who likes dinner to be homogeneous?

I've made this argument several times to several people, and once my sister tried to explain to someone else my position. She said, "He doesn't like pasta, because it's too monogamous." When I tried to explain to her that 'homogeneous' and 'monogamous' were in fact, two very different words, she stated, "Well, they both mean 'the same,' don't they?" Who can fight with logic like that?

However, there are a few sauces of which I wouldn't mind a big ole' bowl of homogeneity. I first tasted a tomato mascarpone sauce from a little food delivery service my parents have (seriously, it started as a milkman delivering 2 gallons a week, and now he brings produce, and baked goods, and ridiculously good pasta sauce). Then I had another shot at it at a quirky little cafe in a bookstore in Washington DC over lobster and asparagus ravioli (more on that later). I decided to give it a go.

The end result was not exactly like what I had before, but was quite good. Feel free to experiment and comment.



Pasta with Tomato Mascarpone Sauce

• 2-3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 large shallot, minced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 large, ripe Roma tomatoes, diced
• about 1 cup chicken broth
• 3-4 large, fresh basil leaves, sliced thin, plus additional for garnishing
  
• about 4 ounces mascarpone cheese
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• 1 pound dry pasta (I used fusilli, because I like how it holds the sauce, but you could use just about anything)

Heat the olive oil in a large saute pan. Add the shallot and garlic, and stir until soft but not yet browned. Add the diced tomatoes, and saute for a few minutes. Add the chicken broth and basil, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the tomatoes are very soft, about 25-30 minutes. Add more broth if it reduces too much.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente. Rinse, and keep warm.

When the tomatoes have finished simmering, add the mascarpone and stir until melted and mixed well throughout. Season with salt and pepper to taste (it will probably require a good bit of salt).

Top the pasta with the warm sauce and additional sliced, fresh basil.

Tunes

What do you listen to when you cook? Do you have a jammin' out in the kitchen sing-along session? Do you just turn on whatever's on the radio? Do you have a set culinary playlist? Do you just let the simmering sauce sing to you?

I probably put too much thought into what the iPod plays as I cook away, but sometimes I am very particular. The other day, I needed my angsty love, Ingrid Michaelson. A week or so ago, (I'm embarrassed I'm even writing this down), ABBA was all that would do (if you tell anyone about that, I'll lie and deny it).

Tonight I came home to binge cook; I had three different meals going at the same time, outfitting myself with leftovers for the next week, and for the life of me, I couldn't decide what to listen to. It gnawed at me. So I just put the thing on random and let it go. It just wasn't right.

Tunes are crucial. What do you listen to in the kitchen?

Thai Chicken Coconut Soup

There was a little Thai place in a city where I used to live that was pretty much the definition of a dive. It was just a few tables thrown into a small room, and the owner's little children just kind of wandered around the restaurant (and I'm pretty sure they stole my friend's chapstick once). However, I kept going back, and the soup was pretty much the reason why.

The first soup on the menu was listed as "sweet and intoxicating" (I think technically it was called tom kha gai, but I always just called it "sweet and intoxicating soup" and that was good enough for me.) It was a blend of coconut, vegetables, chicken, and other stuff that I'm not exactly sure of, but it was good. I know that there may be some out there who be offended at the decidedly American-looking list of ingredients: shouldn't it contain galangal and kaffir lime leaves and those little red chilies that will burn your eyebrows off and nam prik phao and lots of other stuff I can't pronounce? Well, it probably should, and if you're a Thai soup purist, I'm sorry. I don't believe in authenticity nearly as much as I believe in awesomeness. And this, my friends, is awesome.


Thai Chicken Coconut Soup

• 1 quart chicken broth
• 3-inch piece fresh ginger, sliced very thin
• 1 medium jalapeno pepper, stem and seeds removed
• 3 tablespoons lemongrass puree
• Zest of 1 lime (finely zested)
• 2 cans coconut milk
  
• 1 pound chicken breast
• 1/2 medium sweet onion
  
• 1 can pineapple tidbits in pineapple juice
• scant 1/4 cup sugar (or to taste)
• 2 teaspoons cilantro leaves
• 1 teaspoon basil leaves
  
• Juice of 2-3 limes
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 roma tomato, diced
• about 1/2 cup enoki mushrooms, roughly chopped
• salt, to taste
  

Place the chicken broth in a large soup pot with the ginger, jalapeno, and lemongrass. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat, and let simmer for 10 minutes to flavor the broth, occasionally stirring vigorously with a whisk. Strain the broth through a fine sieve, discard what's left in the strainer, and place the broth back in the pan.

Add the coconut milk, chicken, onion, pineapple, sugar, and herbs. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the chicken is cooked (about 10 more minutes, or so). Shred the chicken, then add back to the pot.

Add the lime juice, pepper, tomato, and mushrooms. Stir until warmed throughout. Season with salt as needed.

Tortellini in Asparagus Cream Sauce

This recipe comes from my sister, who was trying to find a way to sneak a few more green vegetables into the diet (she being the domestic goddess that she is, keeping her lovely home with her adorable baby). I've edited just a little bit, and frankly, I quite like the result.


Honestly, this sauce would work just as well on any type of pasta (I think the aforementioned sister uses cheese ravioli). I know what some of you will say when you read the ingredient list and see half-and-half instead of heavy cream. Just hold on there, folks. Remember, this was an attempt to be more healthy and eat more vegetables. You can use heavy cream if you want (and I bet it would be good), but that would kind of defeat my purpose.



Tortellini in Asparagus Cream Sauce

• 1 pound fresh asparagus, hard stems discarded
• 1/2 large, sweet onion
• 3 cloves garlic
• A few tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 cups half-and-half
• 1/2 cup freshly shredded Parmesan cheese
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice
  
• 1.5 pounds dry tortellini
  
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat the oven to 450-degrees. Cut off the tips of asparagus and set aside. Place the asparagus, onion (sections separated), and garlic in a roasting pan. Drizzle some olive oil over them, and toss to coat well. Season with plenty of salt and pepper. Roast in the oven for about 30 minutes until slightly charred and well-cooked (the time may vary depending on the thickness of the asparagus: mine were very thin).

Bring a pot of salted water to boil on the stove for the pasta. When the vegetables are done, throw in the pasta to cook for the recommended time (usually about 10-12 minutes).

Meanwhile, melt the butter over medium heat in a heavy saucepan. Add the vegetables and saute for a few minutes, until soft. Add the half-and-half and bring to a simmer, then reduce heat. Using an immersion blender, puree the vegetable and cream mixture until very smooth (the asparagus can be kind of stringy, so make sure you've done a good job). Add the lemon juice and Parmesan cheese, and season with salt and pepper to taste (it may take a lot).

Add in the asparagus tips and simmer for just a minute until slightly soft. Drain the pasta, and using the larger of the two pots you've used, mix the pasta and sauce together until heated. Serve with more Parmesan if needed.

New Toys

Williams and Sonoma was having a sale.

Hurray for me.