Spicy Chicken Soup with Greens and Shiitake Mushrooms

This soup has all of the best things in it:  shiitake mushrooms, leafy greens, and enough fresh ginger to kill a small horse.  Allergies and springtime colds seem to be plaguing a lot of people these days, and this soup is quite the sinus clearer, with a multi-faceted heat from copious amounts of fresh ginger and cayenne pepper.  This is a simple and quick-cooking Asian chicken soup that is both light and satisfying.  It is largely flavored with cayenne, fresh ginger, and shiitake mushrooms, which are some of the all time greatest in the history of mushrooms.  My soup is a slight variation off a recipe from Bon Appetit.  One important distinction that I made was to roast boneless skinless chicken instead of picking a rotisserie chicken.  This is more economical, allows for greater quality control, and ultimately, less work.  Picking an entire chicken from the bones is a greasy and time-consuming task, and you don’t really know what the story is behind that chicken.  See here for my easy method for roasting the chicken; then allow it to cool, and shred it.  Unless you are opposed to turning on your oven, this is much less work.  The other change I made, which is more important and came by recommendation of a friend, is to use chard instead of spinach.  It has more backbone that spinach, yet it is milder than kale, and it ultimately results in a tender, mild green that doesn’t disintegrate or destroy your mouth with tannic weaponry, like spinach.  This opposition to spinach may be mine alone, but I still urge you to try the chard. 

Another note about my interpretation versus the written recipe: I accidently used approximately 10 times the amount of ginger the recipe called for, and it turned out to be a happy accident.  Looking at the recipe, I was so confused to see it call for an 11” piece of ginger, peeled and chopped.  It seemed sort of excessive, but I’m an excessive person.  So, I went for it; I wasn’t exactly sure how to pick out an 11” piece of ginger, but I chose a decent sized hand, and it ended up being about a third of a cup of peeled, chopped ginger.  Writing this up, I realized that it was actually 1-1” inch piece of ginger (i.e. a single one inch piece, not an eleven inch piece).  I didn’t exactly measure out eleven inches of ginger, but I definitely used A LOT, and I liked it, especially on day two after it had a minute to infuse and marinate.  If you choose to make this recipe, your ginger quotient is entirely up to you, but know that one third of a cup will not harm you.

This soup is also spiced up with cayenne pepper, which can be such a fickle spice.  Well, it is really not fickle at all; in fact it a pretty consistent pattern on my palette, but I’m curious to see if other people have the same experience.  I find cayenne to be entirely heat-activated, as opposed to red chile flakes, which render spice regardless of temperature.  For example, with this soup, until the cayenne steeped in the hot soup, I couldn’t feel the heat.  Even with the leftovers, if I had a bite cold (no, cold, broth-based soup is not beneath me), it was barely spicy, simply perfumed by ginger.  When I reheated it, it had quite the resounding warmth.  While I think it is completely plausible for thermal heat to augment spicy heat, I find it peculiar that the chilled version tastes mild.  Is it me?  Is there something wrong with me?  Well, yes, there’s absolutely something wrong with me, but I’m unsure of whether this is operative example. 

 On the first night, I made the egregious mistake of not finishing my bowl with a squeeze of fresh time.  It was sheer laziness; apparently it can be quite challenging for me to cut a lime into quarters.  On the second night I ate this, and those following it, it was more than worth the 2 knife strokes to brighten up my dinner with a splash of green sunshine.  In the life of this soup, that is the precise function of fresh lime juice.  I would also recommend a drizzle of Bragg’s liquid aminos, as it rounded out the flavors nicely.

Spicy Chicken Soup with Ginger, Shiitakes, and Chard

1-1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken (I used a combination of white and dark meat)

2-3 tablespoon olive oil

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

1/2 pound sliced shiitake mushrooms, stems discarded

4 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 1" piece ginger, peeled, chopped (or in my world, 11 inches of ginger)

2 quarts low-sodium chicken broth

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 bunch green chard, coarsely chopped

Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper

Lime wedges and Bragg’s liquid aminos or soy sauce (for serving)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Drizzle the chicken with a little oil, and season with salt and pepper on a sheet pan.  Roast for 20 minutes, or just cooked through.

Heat the remaining oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion, season with a little salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, 8– 10 minutes.

Add mushrooms, and sauté for about 3 minutes.

Then garlic and ginger and cook, stirring often, 2 minutes; season with salt and pepper.

Add shredded chicken, broth, and cayenne and bring to a boil.

Add chard and cook for about 5-10 more minutes.

Garnish soup in bowls with Bragg’s and a squeeze of fresh lime.

Pasta With Chicken and Mushrooms, Risotto Style

When I’m cooking and blogging, I try to maintain a semblance of balance in my choices.  Ideally, I would avoid my recipe archives being so heavily laden with tales of cheese and carbohydrates.  However, this notion of blog-balance is an art I am yet to master.  There are certain ingredients that are undeniably “psycho,” and this post reeks of them.  This pasta is flavored with onions, mushrooms, and chicken.  It is prepared like risotto: by adding small increments of chicken stock to the simmering pot until the pasta is cooked through.  Everything cooks together in chicken stock.  Unlike traditional pasta cooking methods, the liquid is never strained.  Instead, it is added gradually, so all the flavors in the ingredients are self-contained. If you are not a fan of mushrooms, I would recommend you stop reading here and go make yourself a nice grilled cheese sandwich.  The mushrooms are the crux of this dish, and nothing else will do in their place.

The recipe below is courtesy of Mark Bittman and I made minimal changes.  (He is smart, although allegedly obnoxious.  I have never seen him do anything on TV, and I would like to keep it that way, so I can remain blissfully ignorant of any truth in the obnoxious allegations).  To be honest, I was a little trepidatious about the method of cooking the chicken: raw chunks of chicken are added towards the end of the cooking process.  I’m sure my mother is gasping in horror at the slightest notion of cross-contamination.  However, I followed the method and I have lived to tell the tale with no gastrointestinal distress.  Just keep stirring the pasta so that the chicken can cook evenly and thoroughly.  Make sure the liquid continues to simmer, and add more stock if you need it.  Also, wash your cooking utensil halfway through, and make sure to slice open a few chunks of chicken before eating to check for doneness.  You will be just fine.

The recipe below includes the minor changes I made in italics.  Next time, I would definitely add peas.  This recipe was practically screaming for peas.  The earthy flavor and texture of mushrooms would pair just beautifully with the sweet pop of peas.  I would recommend taking about a half cup out of the freezer before cooking to thaw, and adding them at the end, stirring to heat through.

Pasta With Chicken and Mushrooms, Risotto Style (adapted from Mark Bittman)

2 tablespoons olive oil, more as needed

1 small onion, chopped

1 tablespoon minced garlic

2 cups crimini, shiitake or button mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed and sliced (I used half button mushrooms and half oyster)

1/2 pound cut pasta, such as gemelli or penne, or long pasta broken into bits (I used rotini, but would have gone for gemelli if I could find it)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup dry white wine or water (I left this out)

3 to 4 cups chicken or vegetable stock (definitely use chicken stock)

½ to 1 tablespoon Dijon or whole grain mustard (optional.  It was an impulsive, but delicious addition)

2 boneless chicken thighs, diced

Chopped fresh parsley

Freshly grated Parmesan

1. Put 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large, deep skillet over medium heat. When hot, add shallot, garlic and mushrooms. Cook, stirring occasionally, until mushrooms soften and begin to brown on edges, about 10 minutes. Add pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is glossy and coated with oil, 2 to 3 minutes. Add a little salt and pepper, then wine. Stir and let liquid bubble away. (Or skip the wine and go right step two)

2. Ladle stock into skillet 1/2 cup or so at a time, stirring after each addition and every minute or so. (I poured stock directly out the box it came in into the pan).  When liquid is just about evaporated, add more. Mixture should be neither soupy nor dry. Keep heat at medium and stir frequently.

uncooked chicken (gasp)

cooked chicken (yum)

3. Begin tasting pasta 10 minutes after you add it; you want it to be tender but with a tiny bit of crunch. When pasta is about 3 to 4 minutes away from being done, add chicken and stir to combine. (If you are going to use the mustard, add it before the chicken).  Continue to cook until chicken is done — it will be white on inside when cut — and pasta is how you like it.  (I cooked the chicken for about 5-7 minutes) Taste, adjust seasoning, garnish with parsley and Parmesan.

Yield: 4 servings.

Simple Mushroom Pasta

If you read my last post, it may not be surprising that I am in the process of achieving a higher degree of balance in my life.  Over the past few months, I have been wobbling.  So much of my energy has been expelled outward, away from me, and I am now trying to redirect some of that energy back towards myself.  Both my professional and personal life just went through a swift, yet dramatic restructuring, and I am interpreting this is a sign to get back to my roots, and the things that make me tick. 

This weekend, I jumpstarted my personal resuscitation by cutting off all my hair and spending time with friends.  I then slept for about 14 hours (I guess I needed it).  When I emerged from my quasi-coma on Sunday morning, I jumped on my bike, went to a yoga class, read a book in the sunshine, and cleaned my apartment.  I spent hours outside, and I hadn't done that in months.  It turns out that riding bikes on a cool, fall day might even be more fun than on a summer day.  You get to put on your awesome bike gloves, and a hat, and zip around in the breezy sunshine.  I highly recommend it.

I also recommend this mushroom pasta.  It's a quick and easy dinner that seems like so much more once it's on a plate.  It's basically a makeover of jarred marinara sauce; a few fresh ingredients can truly transform store-bought tomato sauce.  While it's easy enough to make tomato sauce from scratch, this can be done in less than a half an hour from start to finish.  I used Barilla marinara sauce (I love all things Barilla.  Their pasta is totally worth the extra money, and the sauce goes on sale a lot).

First, I put a pot of water onto boil, and added 6 (maybe 8?) sliced mushrooms to a tablespoon of olive oil in a really hot pan.  I used button mushrooms, plain and simple.  Let the mushrooms sit and sizzle for a couple of  minutes before stirring.  The mushrooms will sear, and they will start to smell like some sort of delicious meat, but earthy.  Delicious, I promise. (the quantities in this recipe make 2 good sized bowls of pasta and can easily be adjusted).  

Stir occasionally, until the mushrooms reduce in volume and begin to brown.

Push the mushrooms to the side.  Add 2 chopped Roma tomatoes, a clove of minced garlic, a big pinch of dried rosemary, hot pepper flakes, ground pepper, and kosher salt (to taste).  Also, add linguine (1/4 to a 1/3 of a box) to the boiling water. (If you are not sure on timing, remember it's always better for the sauce to wait for the pasta than the other way around.  Sauce can simmer or be turned off, while pasta just gets mushy).

Stir to combine and cook for a few minutes until the tomatoes begin to break down.  If the pan is looking very dry, add a tablespoon or so of water from the pasta pot.  Not only will it save your mushrooms from burning, but it will make a delightful sizzling sound. 

Add about a cup and a half of marinara.  Stir to combine.

Allow sauce to simmer while pasta cooks.  Enjoy the delicious the garlicky, mushroomy smells.

When the pasta is ready, add it directly to the sauce with tongs.  Let some of the pasta cooking water meander into the pan of sauce.  Stir to combine, check for seasoning, and put a big portion on a plate.

Add some olive oil, black pepper, and parmesan.  (Coloradans, Sunflower has amazing shaved parm at a great price).  Enjoy!

Pot Roast

I have never made or eaten a pot roast in my life.  Until Sunday.  Most cultures have some sort of dish that involves a cheap, tough cut of meat cooked over a low heat for a long period of time.  For example, Jews have brisket.  This may be done differently in every Jewish family and deli, but over all, we do brisket.  Pot roast was a slightly foreign subject to me, although it turns out, it’s similar in preparation:  Brown it, cook it in liquid with aromatic vegetables, and cook it for a long period of time. 

Last weekend, my friend Jacky told me she had recently made a pot roast, and I had to make it.  I was immediately enchanted.  I was also enchanted by what she reported for her chosen side dish:  mashed potatoes.  I will take any excuse to make mashed potatoes, including pot roast.  The truth is that soon it will be warm, and soon my apartment will be very warm.  I am desperately clinging to my waning opportunities to make comfort foods, and pot roast/mashed potatoes fits perfectly into that category.

It turns out that pot roast is truly delightful.  I think that searing the meat is key.  (For the record, I used a chuck roast based on the recommendation of a charming butcher at Whole Foods.)  I digress:  make sure to give that roast a deep, dark, brown crust.  It’s worth the time, and it’s worth the discipline to leave that roast untouched as each side sizzles in the pan.  As for the pan, I used my soup pot, and braised my pot “roast” on the stove.  Many recipes call for a low oven, but my oven is the bane of my existence.  The only other advice you need is to season that brick of meat liberally, slice your vegetables thick, and don’t skimp on the butter in your mashed potatoes.  This is a perfect Sunday night dinner:  tender meat and vegetables, savory broth, an apartment that smells intoxicating, and unavoidably jealous neighbors.

Pot Roast

2 tablespoons olive oil

3-4 lb. chuck roast

5 carrots, sliced

5 celery stalks sliced

¼ pound button mushrooms, quartered

1 onion, quartered

4 cloves garlic, sliced

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

6 springs fresh thyme

2 bay leaves

3 cups liquid (I used a combination of 1 cup red wine, 1 ½ cups chicken stock, ½ cup water – all in all, pretty flexible)

Kosher salt, pepper, Lawry’s seasoned salt, garlic salt

-       Season roast liberally

-       In a large stock pot with tight fitting lid, preheat olive oil over medium high heat

-       Sear roast on all sides until browned (this should take about 5 minutes per side.  Leave it alone and let it brown.  Set a timer if necessary to keep your hands off of it)

-       Add liquid and scatter vegetables and herbs around the roast (some vegetables will not be submerged)

-       Cover and reduce heat to low so liquid simmers

-       Braise for 3 hours, basting every 30 minutes, until meat begins to fall apart (the braising liquid should be bubbling, but not boiling)

-       Serve meat and vegetables over mashed potatoes (watch out for bay leaves and the stems of rosemary and thyme)

Snow Day Part 2

Sometimes, Wednesday morning can feel like Sunday morning.  I’m sure you’re scratching your head, wondering: how is this impossible feat accomplished?  I will tell you.  It’s due to a rare and wonderful circumstance: the second of two snow days consecutive snow days due to sub zero wind chills!  Doesn’t it sound wonderful?  Let me tell you, it is.  I had a weekend in the middle of my week, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

When I woke up on this “Sunday” morning, I felt that I needed to prepare some sort of luxurious breakfast, as opposed to my usual English muffin and hard-boiled egg in a hurry.  The day before, I had purchased some mushrooms.  I was shopping for my roasted chicken dinner (see previous post), but I added the mushrooms to my cart so I could make a mushroom omelet the following morning, based on the unlikely chance that school would be cancelled again.  I was concerned that my presumptuousness about a second snow day would certainly jinx this possibility, but I was wrong.  And in this type of circumstance, I love being wrong.

When I woke up that morning, I decided against an omelet for my leisurely breakfast, and started toying with the idea of a breakfast sandwich.  Vegetarians frequently praise mushrooms as a meat substitute because of their hearty texture and flavor.  I would say there is a distinct possibility that the first veggie burger was actually a grilled portobello mushroom cap on buns.  In light of this, I thought it might work out well to add sautéed mushrooms to a breakfast sandwich with some cheese and an egg.  This is exactly what I did, and I was pleased by the results:  meaty, savory, and satisfying.

First, I sliced up about 5 button mushrooms, and added them to a hot pan with some olive oil.  I know the pictured pan looks a little big for that amount of mushrooms, but they brown much better if they have a little breathing room.  Plus, the bigger pan will allow you to cook your egg in the same pan, and cut back on dirty dishes.  Also, refrain from salting mushrooms until they have browned.  Salt draws out water, so if mushrooms are salted in the beginning, it will bring out extra water, and it will take the mushrooms longer to brown.  (Conversely, it always good to salt onions immediately when you just want to cook them, but not brown them, for the same reason.  When you’re making a soup or sauce, you just want them softened, and salting them immediately will bring out their liquid and prevent them from browning).  When the mushrooms were done, I added a little fresh dill along with the salt and pepper.  The dill is completely optional; I just happened to have it in the fridge, but it could be left out of substituted with another herb. 

Then, I pushed the mushrooms to one side of the pan, added a touch more olive oil and one egg to the pan.  I made my egg over medium (maybe even over medium-well).  For breakfast sandwiches, I don’t like the yoke to be too runny because I want to be able to pick it up and not mess about with a fork and knife.  However, of course cook your egg in whatever way you see fit. 

While the egg was cooking, I toasted one big piece of sour dough, and put a slice of cheese on it while it was still hot.  I used Swiss cheese, but any cheese would do.  I then topped the cheese with the shrooms, then the egg, and last one more slice of cheese, and sprinkled the whole concoction with a little more dill and pepper.  Maybe it sounds like sort of an odd combination, but I thought it was one great big yum, and would encourage anyone with time and mushrooms on their hands to pursue this as a delicious breakfast option.

Cream of Mushroom Soup

I suppose there will be an ebb and flow of emotions with anything you love, and I have been experiencing low tide regarding both my creativity and enthusiasm for cooking.  Unfortunately, my stove has been as barren as my blog; however, I am hoping that dropping temperatures and decreasing daylight will reignite my interest, as my favorite comfort foods become increasingly appropriate (there should be something positive to glean out from these first glimpses of winter).

Soup is a universally loved cold-weather comfort food, and this soup is a mushroomy masterpiece.  If this mushroom soup had a motto, it would be “go big or go home.”  It has two pounds of fresh mushrooms, plus dried porcinis, which are added to sautéed onions and garlic.  This may sound a bit excessive, and when you first add them to the pot, you may think you have done something seriously wrong, as your aromatics become overwrought by sliced shrooms.  Do not fear: mushrooms contain a lot of liquid, and they will shrink significantly as they sauté.  They will also lead to unparalleled mushroom flavor, accented by fresh rosemary.  The original recipe called for both fresh sage and fresh rosemary.  In an effort to streamline and save myself a couple of bucks, I chose to add rosemary alone.  After all, mushrooms and rosemary play so nicely together that I figured the single herb should suffice.  The meaty savoriness of mushrooms stands up assertively to rosemary’s piney, earthy warmth.  Essentially, the onion, garlic, rosemary, and mushrooms are simmered together with some stock, and finished with heavy cream.  It’s just half a cup, so don’t do something lame, like replace it with skim milk.  Before I added the cream, I snuck a little sample of soup, and it was so meaty and savory that I questioned adding it for about a millisecond.  But I forged on, heavy cream in hand, and the difference it made was completely invaluable.  There is something about saturated fat that simply brings out the best in things.  As with most cream of mushroom soups, this one is inevitably blended, but please do so with caution, and leave some chunks of mushrooms.  After all of that time cleaning and slicing, it would be a crime to pulverize them.  

Cream of Mushroom Soup (adapted from Smitten Kitchen)

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

Kosher salt

Fresh ground pepper

½ oz. dried porcini mushrooms

1 cup very warm water

1 lb. white button mushrooms, sliced

1 lb. cremini mushrooms, sliced

2-14 oz. cans reduced sodium chicken broth

1-14 oz. can beef broth

½ cup heavy cream

-       Steep dried mushrooms in 8 ounces of very warm water for 20-30 minutes.  When mushrooms are plump, lift them from the water (leaving as much grit behind as possible), and coarsely chop them.  Strain soaking liquid through a coffee filter to remove grit (I actually lined a fine mesh sieve with a paper towel, and that worked fine, and so far I’m still alive).  Set aside mushrooms and soaking liquid. 

-       In a large soup pot, head olive oil over medium heat.  Add chopped onions, garlic, rosemary sprigs, 1 teaspoon of salt, and lots of pepper.

-       Sauté for 10 minutes, or until soft and translucent, stirring frequently.

-       Increase heat to high and add all of the sliced mushrooms.  Stirring frequently, sauté for 10 minutes, until mushrooms give off liquid and reduce significantly in volume.  Stir frequently, especially when you first add them to prevent burning.  (You may want to lower the heat initially until the mushrooms begin to release liquid).

-       Add chicken stock, beef stock, reserved mushroom soaking liquid, and porcinis.

-       Allow the soup to simmer (over about medium heat) for 30 minutes.  Remove rosemary sprigs, add cream, and blend with immersion blender until it is the desired consistency.  This could also be done in a blender, but be sure to do it in batches, with the blender about half full and vented.

-       Keep soup at a bare simmer (to prevent cream from curdling), and serve soup with good bread and extra virgin olive oil.  

White Wine Braised Chicken

I’ve been craving roast chicken.  Bone-in, skin-on, luscious chicken.  It is far too hot to turn on my ancient oven in my tiny, non-air-conditioned apartment; however, I thought I might be able to get away with braising, without suffering the consequences of a sleepless night, as heat seeps from the oven for hours.  Plus, braising has some added benefits that roasting lacks.  A braise, by definition, requires a notable amount of liquid.  Wine just happens to be a liquid, and cooking something in wine always makes food better.  And thus, white wine braised chicken was born. 

It was a fairly simple process, which yielded very delicious results.  First, I seasoned some chicken legs with salt and pepper, and sprinkled them with flour (you could embark in a full-on dredging process if you wanted thicker sauce, but I enjoyed the gently viscous sauce that this process produced).  Then I seared the chicken until it was deeply browned, but not cooked through, and set it aside.

I sautéed sliced onions and cremini mushrooms in the remaining chicken-y goodness, followed by some minced garlic and dried thyme.  Next I added a healthy squirt of tomato paste for richness and color, as well as some diced Roma tomatoes (in the middle of July, it would be a sin to use canned tomatoes).  Then I dumped in half a mere half bottle of white wine, and nestled the seared chicken into this lovely concoction.  The whole mixture bubbled away for about a half hour, and the result was tender, moist chicken bathed in a lush sauce.  I served it on a bed of lemon-herb orzo, and I had no complaints.

What’s lemon-herb orzo, you ask?  Simply toss some freshly cooked orzo pasta with fresh lemon juice/zest, extra virgin olive oil, chopped parsley, salt and pepper, and you can see for yourself.  

White Wine Braised Chicken

4 chicken legs, split (bone in, skin on!)

1-2 tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon olive oil

½ onion, thinly sliced

6-8 oz. of cremini mushrooms, sliced

2 fat cloves garlic, minced

3 Roma tomatoes, chopped

½ teaspoon dried thyme

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 dried bay leaf

½ bottle of dry white wine

kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

-       Preheat a large, heavy non-stick skillet over high heat* with about teaspoon of olive oil (you want it hot!)  In the meantime, liberally season chicken with kosher salt and pepper, and sprinkle with the flour.  When the olive oil is rippling and starting to smoke, add the chicken, skin side down, in a single layer.  Leave undisturbed for at least 5 minutes (it will splatter, be careful).  Flip and allow to brown on the other side, and then set aside on a plate.

-       Reduce heat to medium.  Carefully remove all but about 2 tablespoons of grease from the pan (I use wadded up paper towels).  Add sliced onions, season lightly with S &P, and sauté until they start to soften, about 5 minutes.

-       Add mushrooms, with a little more S & P, and cook until they start to brown and release their liquid, about 5 minutes.

-       Add garlic and thyme.  Cook for about a minute, and add tomato paste.  Stir, and cook for about 1 minute.

-       Add tomatoes, and little more S & P.  Cook for 2-3 minutes, until they start to soften.

-       Dump in half a bottle of dry white wine and a bay leaf; stir to combine.

-       Add the chicken back to pan.  Cover the pot with a lid, slightly vented.  Cook for 20-30 minutes (depending on how big the pieces are, and your fear of salmonella), turning chicken occasionally.

-       Add parsley and enjoy. 

*I actually switched between high and medium-high heat during this process, but my stove is awful.  Medium high would probably suffice for a decent stove.

Tuna Noodle Casserole

The notion of “tuna noodle casserole” keeps finding its way to me.  First, it was a friend’s nostalgia about a roommate’s version of the recipe in college (Annie’s “Alfredo Style” mac and cheese, mixed with tuna, and topped with potato chips).  Then it was a feature recipe in March’s Bon Appétit (all gussied up with leeks, fresh dill, and béchamel sauce).  Additionally, I’ve been eating more tuna salad lately because I’m bored to death with my standby lunch of turkey sandwiches.  I know: tuna lacks glamour, and it tends to conjure up images of elderly couples splitting sandwiches on pumpernickel, but it has potential with the right preparation.  Ironically, there were many years when I wouldn’t even eat tuna, and I am still hesitant to eat tuna salad prepared by anyone other than myself and a few relatives.  However, between my turkey sandwich rut and my tight financial situation, tuna’s stock is currently up.

Last weekend, during one of my maze-like Internet binges of all things food-related, I found the perfect recipe for tuna noodle casserole.  I believe Tastespotting led me to it, but I can’t be certain.  The recipe’s creator is the blogger/author of “The Comfort is Always Here,” and I am currently quite grateful to this nameless, faceless, culinarily-gifted stranger.  The recipe includes the necessary components to earn the title of  “tuna noodle casserole”: canned tuna, egg noodles, and canned cream of mushroom soup.  The original recipe also includes some lump crabmeat, which puzzled me.  If I had the money for lump crabmeat, I’m pretty sure I would find a recipe to let that gorgeous crabmeat take center stage.  If I’m not mistaken, the whole point of tuna noodle casserole is to mask the potential funk of canned fish.  Lush lump crab requires no such masking.  Needless to say, I omitted the crab.  Anyway, I relished the fact that the resulting product would be an authentic tuna noodle casserole; however, due to some quality ingredients and flavors, it would be augmented to an undeniably delicious meal with humble (i.e. inexpensive) origins. 

How was this feat accomplished?  I added a little lemon zest to the tuna; I sautéed lovely little mushrooms, onions, celery, and garlic for flavor and texture; I topped the whole the thing off with extra-sharp cheddar (flavor!) and panko breadcrumbs (crunch!).  Everything brought a little something extra to the party, but I must say the celery and the panko were the big winners.  I am developing a new appreciation for celery.  It really adds a lot to the background of a dish, but it is so modest and unassuming, that it doesn’t call attention to itself.  Rather, it lets the whole dish shine.  It is truly a vegetable of integrity.  And the panko breadcrumbs add such a divine crunch.  Need I say more?  The crunch loses some of its tenacity with re-heating, but it will make you weak in the knees when this lovely casserole is fresh from the oven.

This dish is comprised of solid, non-controversial flavors, but another selling point is:  it is not a greasy mess.  It is a rich and satisfying comfort food, but even when you reheat it on high in the microwave, the sauce doesn’t separate or congeal.  Tuna noodle casserole: make it and enjoy.

 

Tuna Noodle Casserole (adapted from “The Comfort is Always Here”)

2-5 oz. cans solid white Albacore tuna, drained well and broken up with a fork

Zest from half a lemon

1-12 oz. package wide egg noodles

1 can Campbell’s Healthy Request cream of mushroom soup

2 cups milk (I used 1% lowfat milk)

8 oz. white button mushrooms, quartered

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon olive oil divided

2 teaspoons soy sauce

1 onion, small diced

4 stalks celery, small diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup frozen peas (no need to thaw)

¼ cup chopped flat leaf parsley

Loads of freshly ground black pepper

Kosher salt, garlic salt, and/or Lawry’s seasoning salt, to taste

1 ½ cups shredded extra sharp cheddar cheese

1 ½ cups panko breadcrumbs

·      Preheat the oven to 375 degrees; put on a large pot of water to boil for the noodles; spray a 9x13 inch-baking dish with non-stick spray, or use butter.

·      Mix drained, flaked tuna with lemon zest and season liberally with black pepper.  Set aside.

·      Whisk together the canned soup and two cups of milk.  Set aside.

·      Once water is boiling, add egg noodles.  Drain them when they are still a little underdone, and rinse with cold water.

·      Preheat one teaspoon of olive oil in large skillet over medium-high heat.  Once hot, add the quartered mushrooms.  Allow liquid to cook off so mushrooms can brown.  Remove from pan and season with soy sauce.  Set aside.

·      In the same pan, add the tablespoon of olive oil.  Add celery, onion, and garlic.  Season with salt and lots of pepper.  Sauté for 8-10 minutes, or until vegetables are tender.

·      In a large bowl or pot, mix together noodles*, tuna, soup mixture, mushrooms, sautéed vegetables, peas, and parsley.  Season as desired (I added more pepper and a dash of garlic salt and Lawry’s seasoning).

·      Transfer to the prepared baking dish.  Top with cheese and breadcrumbs.  Bake for 30 minutes or until hot and bubbly. 

*Note:  I didn’t quite use all of the noodles.  I maybe held back a cup or so.  Use your discretion.