Fish Tacos

This post is long over-due, but the timing is perfect for this steamy weather.  I cannot take complete credit for this mini-series of recipes that resulted in some very tasty fish tacos, as a co-chef assisted me in their creation.  I can, however, take complete credit for my awkward, cheeky prose.  This was quite the journey for a couple of co-chefs.  And while we both worked hard to soften our culinary opinions in order to collaborate, the composition of the final product was quite simple.  In other words, the food was both good and easy. 

Deciding to make fish tacos was easy; deciding what to put on them was not.  There are so many viable options, and combinations (go to foodgawker and search “fish tacos;” the search results will make your head spin).  I will not go into the details of how we made our decision, but do know that this matter was not taken lightly.  We settled on the following combination: soft corn tortillas with sautéed white fish fillets, topped with guacamole, red cabbage slaw, and jack cheese.  The result was a fresh, light, and satisfying meal, which only required 10-15 minutes of heat from a single burner on the stove.  At the time it was thunder storming and 70 degrees, but it is currently 95 degrees outside, and the minimal heat requirements are becoming an increasingly important selling point.

First, my co-chef made guacamole.  It was a standard, but well executed guac, with the primary focus on the perfectly ripe avocados.  I think the key to this recipe is allowing the onions to sit in a bit of lime juice, which mitigated their raw, acrid flavor.  I tried to stay out of his way during its construction because, not surprisingly, I can be a little bossy in the kitchen.  However, I have gleaned the following information:

Guacamole

1 Roma tomato, diced

2 tablespoons minced red onion

Juice from ½ lime

2 ripe avocados, seed removed and flesh scooped out into a large bowl

1 teaspoon of mayonnaise

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

-       Squeeze the lime juice over the minced onion while preparing your remaining ingredients.

-       Add all ingredients in a large bowl and gently mix together.  Taste for seasoning.

-       Cover the guacamole with plastic wrap directly on the surface to prevent browning, and chill until you are ready to serve.

Next, I made the red cabbage slaw.  I have never worked with a whole head of cabbage before, and it was surprisingly easy.  First I removed a few of the outer leaves.  Then, while my co-chef watched nervously, I used a big knife to cut it in half, then quarters.  I removed the core by cutting into the cabbage on an angle, and then (carefully) made thin slices with a knife.  This was not a complex process, and so much more delicious than the pre-shredded bags (although those are not terrible if you’re in a time crunch).  The cabbage and some shredded carrots were dressed in a simple lime-based vinaigrette, formulated from the following recipe: http://une-deuxsenses.blogspot.com/2011/02/crispy-black-bean-tacos-with-feta.html.  Over all, this slaw was a little smoky and a little spicy, and had a refreshing and satisfying crunch.  As a testament to how good it was, I ate the leftovers the next day directly out of the bowl they had been stored in, and then proceeded to make another batch with the lingering cabbage.

Red Cabbage Slaw

½ red cabbage, sliced

1 carrot, grated

2 scallions, finely chopped

¼ jalapeno, seeds and ribs removed, and minced (this can be replaced with a good squirt of sriracha in the dressing)

2 tbs. lime juice

2 tbs. olive oil

1 heaping tsp. mayonnaise

¼-½ teaspoon cumin (I used the latter amount the second time I made it, and it was great)

½ teaspoon honey

Salt and pepper, to taste (about ¼ teaspoon each)

-       In a bowl, combine lime juice, salt, pepper, cumin, honey, and mayonnaise.  Whisk together until thoroughly combined.

-       Slowly whisk in olive oil.  Taste dressing and adjust seasonings.

-       In a large bowl, toss the dressing with remaining ingredients.

I then prepared a plate of condiments (shredded jack cheese, cilantro leaves, and adorable little lime wedges), and my co-chef cooked the fish.  For this, I have to adorn him with enormous culinary praise. It was perfectly cooked, and perfectly seasoned. We used basa, which is a firm white fish, similar to tilapia.  I cannot go into too much detail because he deliberately shielded me from the kitchen during his cooking process (a difficult task in a studio apartment).  This was not out of secrecy, but because I am a terrible “backseat cook.”  He claims to have done the following (but he is a lawyer, and probably can’t be trusted):

Sautéed Basa Fillets

-       Preheat a large non-stick skillet over medium high heat with a thin, even coating of olive oil.

-       Season 1 lb. of basa fillets with a spritz of lime juice and a light sprinkling of cayenne, Lawry’s seasoned salt, chili powder, cumin, and salt/pepper. (Skip the cayenne if you’re not into spicy; go very light with it even if you are into spicy.)

-       Sprinkle lightly with a couple of teaspoons of flour. (Mr. Co-Chef says he wouldn’t do this again, but I liked it.)

-       Cut the fillets in half and sauté until the fish is opaque and firm (a couple of minutes on each side).

-       Assemble tacos and enjoy!

We used small white corn tortillas, heated briefly in the microwave.  If the word “microwave” makes you cringe, you could use the oven or the stove.  This meal was so delicious: crunchy, creamy, spicy, tart, and fresh.  You will find ample visual evidence that supports these claims.  You are even allowed the pleasure of seeing my overly-freckled face take a perfect bite of “mini-taco” (i.e. a bite of all the ingredients besides a tortilla for those who are too full to eat another taco, but can’t stop eating).

Minestone

I handle periods of transition with the finesse of a baby tolerating a dirty diaper.  Under the best circumstances, I squirm and make faces to reflect my discomfort.  I may whine a little bit.  Depending on the severity of the situation, I feel compelled to burst into tears.  One would hope that my tolerance for change would increase with experience; this does not seem to be the case.  Under my critical observation, my improvements seem to be occurring at a rate that does not allow for functional changes. 

Currently, I am transitioning from the role of “life-long-student,” into the vastly unstructured environment of unemployment.  There are some advantages to this situation: free time, free time, free time.  There is also the dingy hope of an interview or better yet (gasp!) an actual job offer.  There are also some co-occurring problems: the highly pronounced anxiety that barges in when you don’t get the interview/job offer.  My coping strategy with these issues tends to involve falling back on comfortable, old routines, like cooking.  Alas, yet another soup recipe was born.

Minestrone is a time-honored tradition in my family, although I sort of took it in my own direction.  When I was little, I sort of dreaded it because of the presence of zucchini.  I would avoid the zucchini, and eat everything else I could, until my mom inevitably required that I finish it.  With a trembling hand, I would lift each spoonful of cold, neglected zucchini, and chew as quickly as possible to prevent gagging.

My “adult” palette has revised its opinion of zucchini, and I stand behind a firm recommendation of this soup.  This is a fairly traditional recipe, except that I included a good portion of tomato paste to give the broth a deep color and flavor.  I also cooked the pasta separately to prevent it from turning to mush, but this is matter of personal preference.  Overall, the soup was warm and comforting.  It had a round well-developed flavor from the garlic, herbs, and tomato paste.  Plus, it goes nicely with my favorite condiment: freshly grated Parmesan cheese.   I recommend the following progression:  cook the soup; drink a beer, eat a of soup bowl; drink another beer while eating another bowl; be happy.  But it’s just a suggestion (and please excuse the blurry photos).  

Minestrone

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 medium onion, diced

¼ teaspoon hot pepper flakes

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

3 celery stalks, diced

3 carrots, diced

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 teaspoon dried basil

½ teaspoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon dried parsley

1 medium red skin potato, diced

6 cups reduced sodium chicken stock

28 oz can diced tomatoes

1 can chick peas, drained and rinsed

2 small zucchinis, diced

Small cut pasta (cook separately)

Parmesan cheese for garnish

-       Preheat a soup pot over medium heat.  Add the olive oil and butter.

-       Once the butter melts, add onion, celery, carrot, and garlic.  Season with hot pepper flakes, salt, and pepper.  Sauté for 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until vegetables become soft and translucent.

-       Add the tomato paste, stirring frequently for two minutes, until very fragrant.

-       Add canned tomatoes, broth, chickpeas, potatoes, and remaining seasonings. 

-       Bring to a boil.  Reduce to a simmer, and cook for 30 minutes.

-       Taste and adjust seasonings.  Add zucchini and cook for ten more minutes.

-       Place cooked pasta in soup bowls and add soup.  Garnish with parmesan.  

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)

Stracciatella

I actually do cook food other than soups, but somehow soup seems to be the only thing I am motivated to write about.  Soon, it will be too swelteringly hot in my apartment to make soup, so please bear with me.  Alas, I present you with one more soup recipe: straciatella.  The recipe is the result of highly impromptu cooking.  Straciatella is a combination of chicken noodle and egg drop soup with an Italian flair.  I have been thinking about making it for a bit.  When it crossed my mind again this morning, I realized I had almost all of the ingredients already, including these darling, teeny, tiny star shaped noodles.  I bought them over two months ago, and I have been stewing over the perfect recipe to utilize them in.  Every time I open my kitchen cabinet and lay eyes on them, I find myself sighing dreamily.  They are just that cute.  Straciatella was the perfect excuse to eat them by the heaping spoonful.

In brief, my straciatella is a broth-based soup with the aforementioned noodles.  Before serving, an egg beaten with parmesan cheese is streamed into the soup, creating tender cheesy, eggy strands thoughout the hot broth.  I added carrots to the soup to flavor to the canned broth, and to prevent monotonous texture.  I seasoned it with cayenne, dried parsley, and black pepper.  Yum.

Stracciatella:

 - Bring 5 cups reduced sodium chicken broth to a simmer, and add 2 diced carrots and 2 whole cloves of garlic.  Season broth with a healthy dash of cayenne pepper, freshly ground pepper, and a tablespoon of dried parsley.
 - Allow carrots to simmer for 10 minutes, or until they start to become tender.  Add a half cup stelline (star-shaped) pasta.  Allow soup to simmer until the pasta is tender.
 - In the meantime, beat together one egg and 1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese.  Season with black pepper.
 - When pasta and carrots are tender, reduce the heat until the soup is at a bare simmer.  Stir in egg mixture slowly so that strands of egg form.  Remove garlic cloves.  Garnish soup with extra parmesan and pepper, and enjoy.

Chicken Chili

Sometimes I can’t quite get this blog together.  I do the cooking, I take the pictures, I write up the recipe, but then sometimes the words simply don’t flow.  Or the words do flow, but rather than flowing like a delicate creek, they flow like muddy water, bursting out of a sewer drain. 

I’m not sure where this blog post falls in that spectrum; however, I can tell you that the recipe was rather tasty.  This chili is definitely not the most beautiful food to come out of my tiny kitchen, but it certainly went down easy.  I have been pondering the concept of chicken chili for a while.  There are so many options: white chicken chili, green chicken chili, chicken chili with beans, tomatoes, etc.  It was a tough decision.  I knew I wanted a chili with some body to it; I personally don’t like chili that has lots heft in terms of the ingredients, but it all swims around in a thin, non-descript liquid.  I also knew that I wanted chunks of identifiable chicken breast, rather than mysterious ground poultry.

Additionally, I decided against white chicken chili in favor of something with more vegetables so that the chili could more or less be a complete meal.  Green chili was tempting, but I ultimately could not deal with shucking all the necessary tomatillos, nor did I want the responsibility of finding respectable tomatillos.  Nothing is more disappointing than having your heart set on a particular ingredient and all you can find at the market turns browned, bruised and undesirable.  I felt this was a realistic concern with tomatillos, and therefore eliminated them from my list of potential ingredients.

Essentially, I organized chili attributes according to what I did and did not want, and my hearty chicken chili grew from there.  It turned out to be loaded with green peppers, spiced with jalapeno, sweetened with tomatoes and corn, thickened with a touch of flour, and made hearty with chunks of chicken and white beans. 

Sounds good, doesn’t it?  Well, it was.  To avoid the wateriness I was previously griping about, I lightly dusted chopped chicken breasts with flour before sautéing it in olive oil.  At this point, don’t worry about the chicken sticking a bit to the pan or being completely cooked through.  Plenty of liquid will be added later that will pick up those browned bits.  It’s more important to let the chicken brown and form a bit of a crust.  Once the chicken has browned, aromatic vegetables were added along with a jalapeno and dried spices.  The medley was then simmered with some chicken stock, canned tomatoes, beans, and sweet corn kernels.  After bubbling for a bit, it was topped off with some shredded cheese.  What could be bad?  I think the key to this dish was that little bit of flour.  You would never know it was there, but this chili had very pleasing texture.  A generous amount of shredded Monterey jack doesn’t hurt the chili, either. 

A note on chopping jalapenos: be careful and wash your hands.  Once, I put in my contacts after chopping a jalapeno.  My family can confirm I actually shrieked from the pain.  So, be sure the wash your hands carefully and/or wear gloves.  The heat from fresh peppers is a little uneven, and I found that it mellowed out in this recipe after the chili sat for a day or two.  If you are concerned about the chili being too spicy, you can remove all or part of the seeds and ribs to reduce the heat.     

Chicken Chili

1 ½ pounds boneless, skinless chicken breast

2-3 tablespoons of flour

2 tablespoons olive oil

Salt, pepper

1 onion, chopped

2 green peppers, chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 jalapeno, minced (remove all or part of seeds/ribs to reduce heat)

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon ground cumin

½ teaspoon dried oregano

½ teaspoon dried basil

Garlic salt, Lawry's seasoned salt to taste

1-14 oz. can petite diced tomatoes

1-14 oz. can small white beans, drained and rinsed

1 cup frozen corn kernels (no need to thaw)

2-3 cups chicken stock

Accompaniments:  Shredded jack cheese, hot sauce

-       Chop chicken breast and toss with 2 tablespoons of flour.

-       Add to soup pot, preheated over medium heat with 2 tablespoons of olive oil.

-       Season the chicken generously with salt and pepper.

-       Brown for 5-10 minutes

-       Add chopped onion, bell peppers, garlic, and jalapeno.

-       Add cumin, chili powder, oregano, salt, pepper, and other seasonings (like Lawry’s seasoning salt, my favorite) if desired.

-       Stir occasionally, and cook for 5-10 minutes.

-       Add diced tomatoes, beans, frozen corn, chicken stock*.  Simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally

-       Top with desired garnishes.

*Start with 2 cups of stock, adding more if your chili looks too thick.  You can always add more when reheating, as well.