Really Simple Chicken Soup

Chicken soup has been around as long as chickens have been afraid of boiling water. There are almost infinite iterations. Cliche perhaps, but since chickens are indigenous to every continent, and their juicy flesh, both light and dark, is such an excellent platform for the local selection of spices, the idea that the essence of a chicken, gently drawn by a simmer, could be flavored by herbs and complemented by vegetables has lit the culinary consciousness of Hmong hillsman and Jewish mother alike.

The recipe is simple: boil a chicken, cook some vegetables in the liquid, and add the meat. Don't be afraid. Your house will take on a gauzy, roseate hue, reminiscient of the Cleaver's, of sandlot baseball, Dwight Eisenhower, and the five cent cigar. In short, regardless of your political predeliction, sexual orientation, or cognitive ability, you will be wrapped in the fragrant bosom of your happiest memory.

Opa(Grandfather)Ludwig Schwechheimer was a native Deutch, an Air Force veteran, and a Master Carpenter. And he knew his chicken. Rather, he knew that a gentle simmer, like the thousand tiny fingers urging her to let go, would give him a rich, flavorful broth in which to cook his onions, carrots and celery. He knew that he wanted the very best for his family, so don't go cheap with some big-box, generic, private label bird, get a name brand like Perdue or Bell & Evans. You will know the difference.

In a large, non-reactive pot; I'm sorry, but at this point, I have to urge you to throw out all of your Aluminum cookware. Aluminum is great for a restaurant, with a large commercial burner that gets up to 80,000 BTU in five seconds flat, and you need to cook that whatever RIGHT NOW and get it plated and out on the customer's table RIGHT NOW. But at home, you don't have that pressure. You're cooking for the people you love, and while you need big heat fast, you want it to be even and controlled. Trust me: if you are a professional chef or line cook, then you can handle heat that would make your face melt and produce a dish that could grace the cover of Gourmet Magazine. The rest of us: Buy Iron. Buy Steel. Enjoy the process of making a really nice dish without the worry of self-immolation.

OK. Back to the non-reactive pot. Take all the paper-wrapped Neck, Heart, and Gizzard stuff out of the cavity and put it in the bottom of the pot. Put the chicken in the pot and cover it with water by at least two inches. Bring it to a smooth rolling boil; not a violent, lid-shaking boil, but a gentle, steady boil. Cook it for about a half an hour. Test for doneness by wiggling a leg; to be really sure, cut into a joint and look at the flesh.

Take the Chicken and the other solids out of the water. Strain out any bits that you can't fish out and SAVE THE COOKING LIQUID. We call it the boiling water. Put a whole onion, a few Celery ribs, and a few Carrots in the liquid and bring it to a gentle simmer. Cook this until the vegetables are tender.

Clean the meat off the Chicken. This is one of the few carcasses that you can toss, because the flavor has already been simmered out of it. Shred the Chicken flesh and set it aside to put back into the stock in a few minutes. Cover it with foil or plastic wrap to protect it from children, cats, germs, whatever.

Season the stock, and this is using all dried spices: 1 teaspoon of Basil, 1 teaspoon of Thyme, 1 teaspoon of Parsley, half a teaspoon of Black Pepper, and half a teaspoon of Salt. Now, add two Chicken Boullion cubes. Ironically, dried cubes and packets of Beef and Chicken broth don't have any Monosodium Glutamate; canned broth does. Still, read the label and buy appropriately. If you have stock already made, I guess you can add that, but remember that Opa Schwechheimer never did... If you have access to fresh herbs, then add three or four Basil leaves, two sprigs of Thyme, a quarter cup of chopped Parsley, and the rest as I've said.

Add the shredded Chicken and simmer for twenty minutes or so, then add a whole Egg. Stir it up and break it apart. The cook on fighting ships of the Royal Navy in the latter half of the 18th Century would use ground eggshells to thicken soups and stocks. You can put the shell in the compost pile. Now add a quarter teaspoon of ground Nutmeg. When it's all nice an hot, add a cup of Egg Noodles and let them cook until soft.

Serve this now. You can freeze some of it for later if you like. The flavor is rich, the stock is thick, but quite pliant, and the whole thing is filling. Miracle cures have been reported, the lame have walked, the blind have seen, and the runny, stuffy noses have slept peacefully the whole night through. Your reputation as a healer will travel far and wide. Supplicants will camp on your lawn.

I tried to find an appetizing picture of a chicken, but couldn't, so I thought you'd like to meet one of my childhood friends.

There you have it.

Asian Noodle Confessions

I'm sure that you've had people ask you: "Do you eat like this all the time?" You and I both know that the answer is "No". The day after a big dinner, or coming home late from work, or just the need to feed with little or no effort, has driven me to leftovers, pasta-butter-garlic, frozen fried chicken, and, in my most desperate moments, going out to eat. We'll revisit this aversion to dining out another time, but leave it at this for now: we can always do it better, faster, and cheaper at home. I know that we all cherish those personal comfort food secrets, all the more delicious for the slight tang of shame in going commercial, or freeze-dried, or 950mg Sodium factory food portions.

So I'm bringing my lunch to work most days. But on the days after any kind of barbequed steak, chicken, or pork, I just pack a small slab of meat and my favorite Asian noodle mix. The kind you buy a dozen at a time for a dollar, with the mostly-salt spices in a foil packet. My personal favorite is "Thai Kitchen Rice Noodle Bowl" At the high end of the market at $2US Lemongrass and Chili is what I normally buy, even though they have other flavors. These are rice noodles, in just the right amount, the spice packet is the most consistent--not too dependent on salt, and not over-flavored.

Two cups of water, their oil, greens and flavor packet, my hunk of meat, sliced thin, five minutes of microwaves, and I'm the envy of the lunchroom. Yes, I could bring my own chopped green onions(scallions), my own spiced oil, so easy to infuse with just any spice you could think of(fresh only), and a salt, pepper dash, but that would be work, and that's what I want to avoid. I put my stuff in last, and nuke the mix for another 30 seconds, and let it sit for the noodles to soak up the broth. Nice and hot, no cash outlay(in an office where $8US is average, not to mention the wait) and no food hangover!

There you have it.

Meatballs

Few things are more pedestrian and have wider appeal than the lowly meatball. There are as many recipes as there are cooks on the planet, and vary by region, enthnicity, and local content. Yet a juicy, flavorful meatball, in a nice, simple tomato sauce, is one of the comfort foods that make us feel secure and loved. The aroma, texture, and flavor are all very powerful memory triggers, and even if you come close, you will transport your guests to another plane. The added bonus is their nutritional value in protein.

If you don't have an herb garden within a few steps of your kitchen door, you need to sit down and have a long, serious talk with yourself. Just the basics: Basil, Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, Sage, and Parsley. This is a very small space and all of these can be had for short money in the early Spring at your local garden center. They are low maintenance and ask only for lots of Sun and daily water. I have several Rosemary plants, since I use it so often, and it's relatively slow-growing, whereas I only have a single Basil plant. Only the Thyme and Oregano will survive the New England Winter, properly covered, and the others I just pull with a shrug and replant the following Spring.

This recipe is written for these fresh herbs:

1 Tbs minced Rosemary
1 Tbs chopped Oregano
2 Tbs loosely packed chopped broadleaf Italian Parsley
1 Tbs chopped Basil
1 Tbs minced Garlic (again with the stuff out of the jar--it's already a little cooked, fresh can be too sharp)
1 Tsp Kosher Salt
1 Tsp fresh ground Pepper
1/2 Cup Whole Milk Ricotta
1 Lb 85% Lean Ground Beef
1/3 Cup Whole Milk
1/3 Cup breadcrumbs

Mash this all together in a large bowl using the flat of a wooden spoon. The only reason I don't use my hands is that I don't want to add the warmth of my hands to the mix and possibly change the chemistry of the dairy. You can add more milk if you think the mix is too dry.

I do use my hands to form the meatballs. About the size of a golfball, maybe a little bit bigger, and put them into the sauce. You'll end up with about 25, I really don't know; next time I make them I'll count. There are as many ways to cook them as there are recipes, but I prefer to have them cook in the sauce, covered, and I think that they retain more moisture that way. They also keep a uniform spherical shape, which is nice if you're as obsessed with small details as I am. And they cook until they are done; be careful how you stir the sauce early on, because you don't want to break up the meatballs. They change color, and become firm to the touch. Take one out, cut it in half on the block and see that it's cooked all the way through. Taste it. Hot, juicy, and full of flavor!

There you have it.

Easy Pork Glaze

This is a quick and easy glaze that I used for a three-pound pork loin on the grill:

2 Tbs grainy 'Country' mustard
2 Tbs Mayonnaise
1 Tbs minced garlic, the kind from a jar, not fresh
1 Tbs kosher salt
1 Tbs sweet relish
1 Tsp hot sauce; any kind, could be Tabasco

Apply the glaze to the fatty rind and let it sit while you prepare the fire. Roast the pork indirectly on your grill, with a pair of alumninum pans below the meat to catch the drippings. Baste it with 1/3rd cup of red wine mixed with 2 Tbs olive oil. Cook the meat to an internal temperature of 145Degrees F. Very nice. You might want to score the fat before you apply the glaze.

There you have it.

The Chef's Dream Dinner Story

A week ago this Saturday past, I performed and delivered a meal which may well be the acme of my nascent catering career. DinnersByGlenn has been auctioned off several times to raise money for schools and churches, and commands now just under $1000US for a service to eight participants. Included are appetizers, mains, sides, and dessert; occasionally thrown in are breads, salads, soups. The meal is planned with an interview at the home of the hostess, the ingredients are acquired beforehand, in fact, much is prepared several days in advance. Cooking, serving, and cleaning are all provided, and the kitchen is left clean; sometimes cleaner than it was found.

These are friends. This makes it doubly harrowing, and I don't use that word lightly, and you know that I have many, many words from which to choose. Strangers, it's not so bad. But with friends, it has to be perfect. Nothing under- or over-done; no sauces separated; plating must be perfect; timing perfect; each dish must be the best that they have ever had of that food. It all comes out on time, Glenn hovering in the background, listening for that sweet sound of silence, jaws working, tongues tasting, throats reluctantly swallowing, forks eager for more, and plates clean. Not that you have to eat it all because there are children starving in North Korea, but because it was so good that you were compelled to finish.

Not everyone likes Tapenade. Especially made in the classic way: olives, anchovies, capers, mustard, garlic, cognac. An intensely flavorful paste, made two days before, a light sheen of olive oil resting on its surface, it really takes a mature palate to appreciate each flavor muscling its way among the others. This was balanced by a light orange pepper salsa, served in filo cups. Cups, I get at the supermarket, the salsa is an orange or two run through the processor with peppers, green onions, cilantro, and a little sesame oil. Very light; refreshing. But the star of our pre-prandial show was the lobster guacamole. A single lobster, on sale no less, boiled after a quick cranial stab, chilled, minced by hand, and mixed with a guacamole already graced with lightly sauteed shallots and Key Lime juice. Probably 745 calories per dip, but the look of pure sensual satisfaction on the the gowns was reminiscient of other satisfactions. The chips were pita slices, a drop of olive oil and a few grains of sel de mer, baked.

A simple pork roast, six and one half pounds, marinated in tequila and more Key Lime juice. A simple crust of toasted herbs: Garlic, Rosemary, and hand-mortared black pepper. Their flavors intensified in a seasoned iron skillet, and applied to the roast, all over. Indirectly grilled over natural charcoal, NEVER chemical briquets, and basted with a hand-made vegetable broth. Timing is critical, but Experience is the steady hand that ensures all the players take the stage at once; internal temperature pulls the cut from the flames, and resting brings it to its mark on cue. NEVER cut the meat, ANY meat before it's rested its due time. No matter what the client, your lover, or drunk Cousin Enid says. Tell them you'd be happy to cut their meat right now if they don't leave your kitchen.

A simple rice, Arborio, brought to perfect al dente resistance by the slow, careful addition of liquid. In this case, the juice of a dozen cucumbers, lovingly reduced by the beautiful Lady Anita, slaving in the scullery throughout the previous night, and heated in a beaten copper pot right alongside the rice. Keep the cooking liquid hot, or you will screw up the cooking time for the rice. Add, stir, add, stir, add and stir; this is a labor-intensive process that cannot be ignored for even a second, although it is possible to take the pot off the heat and let the rice sit for a minute, as it continues to absorb liquid. And at the right time, the last cup has been added, and a generous handful of roasted red peppers, diced, is added, and the pot is covered. A cold tablespoon of water, or maybe some more Key Lime juice, brings the process to a halt. The complete recipe is here.

Every meal has to have a protein, a vegetable, and a starch. Thank you, Mom. I like vegetables. I like lots of different kinds of vegetables steamed, sauteed, roasted, grilled, raw, but rarely boiled. However, a part of this dish involves a boiled vegetable. During my interview with the hostess, she reveals that she really doesn't like onions or peppers or zucchini or squash, or much of anything that's available right now. She does however, like artichokes and tomatoes, and fortunately for me, artichokes are big and fat in the stores right now, so I went out and bought four and some of those vine-ripened tomatoes. Two nights before the dinner, I boiled the artichokes. That is to say, I trimmed off their stem, cut off their tops, a little balsamic vinegar and salt, and water up to about their middle, then on the stove, covered. The water was a nice rolling boil, not a violent, cover-shaking boil, for about a half an hour. Pierced with a knife, the bottom should be firm, but yielding; but not too yielding, because there was more cooking to do. Then I bathed them in cold water to stop this cooking, rested them upside down on a plate, and popped them into the fridge.

Now the dish. I stripped off all the leaves and choke, and cubed them, about an inch or so. Chopped the tomatoes likewise, with all the water and seeds. If you don't like the seeds, you can just pick them out when you chop the tomatoes, but I know they have flavor in them. Then I minced two shallots. I love shallots. I love everything about shallots. Butter and wine and shallots and heat gives you a wonderful classic sauce that adapts to meat or fish or vegetables. Please use a wine that you would enjoy dringing right out of the bottle. So now the foam is off the butter, and the wine is hot and the little shallot pieces are soft; I throw in the cubed artichoke hearts and heat them through. And they absorb the beautiful sauce, and they will soon finish cooking so that they are now al dente like the rice. A little salt and pepper. Did I mention that the hostess has Basil in her garden? A few leaves, crushed in your fingers, added along with the diced tomatoes. When it's all hot and fragrant, and it is extremely fragrant, take it off and squeeze a half a lemon into the pan. Now cover it and put it on a cold burner, or take it off the stove.

Are you following me? Is it confusing to switch from past to present tense? I'm trying to tell you a story and give you the recipe at the same time. Of course, not the exact recipe, but close enough.

OK. We have a protein, the beautiful pork; a starch, the light, yet flavorful rice; and a vegetable, the tomato-artichoke compote. But wait! There's more! I scored(now I'm aging myself) some excellent salmon filets, again, on sale, and have enough so that everyone can have about six ounces. But only if they cower and beg like the unworthy curs they are! Behold! The Tongs of Doom! Just kidding. Remember the cucumber essence that the lovely Anita extracted to use for the rice? We still have some of that left. Again with the butter, wine and shallots: let the foam subside, add the shallots until soft, add the wine to a boil, and now add a few cups of the cucumber liquid. It should still be warm from cooking the rice. I laid the filets in the pan, skin side up, and cooked them until the flesh turned right up the the edge of the skin. Now they're cooked, and hot all the way through, but not overdone, and I lifted them gently out of the pan with a couple of spatulas and put them on a broiler pan. A very light drizzle of honey, back and forth on the skin, and they're ready for the broiler. Broil them until the skin chars; even people that don't like fish will be eating this skin. And the skin is very, very nutritious!

So, we're ready to plate! Shoo everyone out of the kitchen, except for a single helper, and design the plate. These plates were oval: so I have a couple of slices of pork on one end, with some drippings; a spoonful of rice and a spoonful of tomato-artichoke side by side in the middle; and a generous piece of salmon on the other end, with a nice dollop of herbed creme fraiche next to it. I herbed the creme fraiche with the same mix of herbs that I had toasted and crusted the pork roast with, but light, just a hint. Now serve and watch them enjoy. Wouldn't you know? They want me to join them at the table! Now the last thing I want to do after cooking is to eat, but, as I said, these are friends, and they are serving a nice Pinot. So I take a bite of the tomato-artichoke compote; even I'm impressed. The pork needs to come out at 145Degrees and rest up to 150; the rice is perfect, I can even taste the roasted peppers; and the salmon is hot, tasty, and juicy. And the table is silent. These people can't eat enough of this fast enough. Nobody's stuffed, but certainly sated, and the client is happy.

We had Creme Brulee for dessert. This is a very simple dish: eggs, sugar, cream. But, because I can rarely leave well enough alone, I made a little syrup to go in it. Strawberries are in season right now. So I buy a pint, wash and hull them, and boil them down in a heavy pan with some Apple Cider Vinegar and a little Cinnamon. I press this through a sieve and cook it some more, then pass it through a cheesecloth to get out all the particles and let it cool. Right before the custard goes into the oven for baking, I put a tablespoon of this syrup in the center of each ramekin and swirl it with a stick. Each dish now has a little red star in the middle of it. Very cute. Bake til set, chill overnight, etc. At the dinner, I cover each with some Turbinado Sugar, and apply my little torch. Did I just say little torch? This thing is a toy; I need one of those real Butane torches you see plumbers using, because it took me five minutes for each dish. Dad always says: "The right tool for the right job." Next time. And each dish gets a little spoonful of Creme Fraiche that has had some chocolate added to it. They've all had Creme Brulee in restaurants, but the crust on this is perfect, and they've got a little blob of creamy chocolate stuff on top. And, Suprise! a spicy strawberry part inside! They're transported. Again, even I am impressed.

There you have it.