Mexicanish Stuffed Tomatoes

These tomatoes are a great summer side, and you get your starch and your veggies all in one nice little package. Or, the tomatoes could make a light meal when served with a salad.

We liked ours with skirt steak that had been rubbed with salt, pepper, and a lot of crushed garlic, then grilled.

Mexicanish Stuffed Tomatoes

• 6 medium tomatoes
• 1 cup Arborio rice
• Kernels from 2 ears of corn
• Half of a medium onion
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
• 1/8 teaspoon cumin
• 1/8 teaspoon cayenne
• 1 tablespoon fresh, chopped cilantro
• 3/4 cup Monterey Jack cheese, divided

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Slice the tops off of the tomatoes and carefully scoop out the insides, reserving the insides in a large bowl. Lightly salt the insides of the tomatoes and place them upside down on a plate or a layer of paper towels. Leave them like that for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, cook the rice according to package directions. In a large saute pan, cook the corn and onions until the onions are soft, but the corn retains a bit of crunch. Salt to taste.

Add the rice and the corn and onion mixture to the tomatoes in the large bowl. Add cumin, cayenne, lime juice, cilantro, and half a cup of the Monterey Jack cheese. Taste and add more seasonings or lime juice if necessary. 

Spoon the rice mixture into the tomatoes, top with the remaining 1/4 cup cheese, and bake for 25-40 minutes, until the tomatoes are tender and the cheese is browned, but the tomatoes are not yet falling apart.

Sauteed Halibut with Arugula, Roasted Beets, and Horseradish Creme Fraiche

Sprouts!


I can't wait till these little guys are strikingly tall zinnias burgeoning with big fluffy, bright flowers.

Like this:

These guys will be tasty and convenient herbs.


A lot of the 10X10 recipes call for small amounts of herbs that I don't use in great quantities. I therefore figured that it would be nice to grow herbs like sorrel, marjoram, and epazote, especially because these herbs often can't be found in the store. It's just not so fun to pick a recipe that depends on sorrel, finding that the store doesn't have it, and having to pick something else. Or, finding that they do have it, using a tiny bit, and letting the rest go to waste. I figure that purchases like that add up to the massive percentage of my paycheck that goes to food, so I'd rather spend $1.50 on the seeds one time, and never have to worry about buying the herb.

If you know me well, you know that I have had an on-going battle with squirrels for the past 15 years. It would take about 2,000 words to adequately describe the scope of these issues, but I will tell you that one year, a squirrel decided to bite all the heads off my little baby basil sprouts. It didn't eat the whole plant, just the heads, so I was left with all the sad little stalks valiantly but vainly poking their bodies out of the soil. When the squirrel dug up the lily bulbs and ate the tender tasty centers I found it annoying but somewhat understandable. But only the heads? Really? That's just perverse.

Or how about the time I tried those little mesh seed-thingies that you start inside and plant outside? That year, the squirrels dug them up, shredded them, and threw them all over the porch. They didn't eat those, either. That was just to mess with me. I could go on and on here, but I'll spare you. I won't mention the time they ate the Christmas lights, or the time I came home to find one in my bedroom...

Basically, that's why the sprouts have a squirrel guard. This squirrel is here to say that these sprouts are his, and the rest of you squirrels better back off.

The onion wanted to get in on the sprouting action, too.

All this springtime feeling got me wanting something light for dinner, and I'm a little obsessed with Sunday Suppers at Lucques right now, so I picked Suzanne Goin's recipe for sauteed halibut with arugula, roasted beets, and horseradish creme fraiche.

It started with coating a piece of halibut with lemon zest, thyme, and parsley.

That is one pretty fish fillet.
How did I zest a lemon when Thomas Keller stole my zester, you ask?
I used my spiffy new microplane zester! It has a handle. Oooohh.

So beets were roasted and sliced into wedges. They were then tossed with a dressing made from diced shallots, balsamic vinegar, red wine vinegar, olive oil, salt, and pepper.

The beets were plated on a bed of arugula and spring green mix. It was supposed to be straight baby arugula, but Whole Foods didn't have it, so the mix just had to do.

The fish was then burned in a skillet. Suzanne Goin tells you to put the skillet on high heat for two minutes, swirl in olive oil, and let it sit for another minute. Why I followed this direction, or the one that instructed me to make mayonnaise by hand, I do not know. This resulted in a very very charred exterior that tasted of Teflon rather than crispy fishy deliciousness.

It also meant that while the exterior was charred, the interior was raw. Had this been tuna, that would have been just fine. It wasn't tuna, though, and I became rather flustered, which resulted in very overcooked fish. I've really never been able to pan-sear fish. I can bake it, grill it, and poach it, but pan searing? Not so much.

I'll just add it to the List of Things Leah Can't Cook. That illustrious list includes duck in any form, pate choux (if I hear one more person say it's soooo easy, my head is going to explode), and souffles.

The halibut was plated and the whole dish was drizzled with a sauce made from creme fraiche, horseradish, lemon, salt and pepper.

Try to pretend that the fish isn't blackened, and it doesn't look like some sort of humpbacked whale beached on sands of lettuce and beets. Also, pretend that the plating and lighting don't suck. Thank you.

It tasted delicious, though. I already knew that I liked cream and beets together, and it turns out that horseradish is also delicious with beets. The meal wasn't overly heavy, but it was satisfying because of the sugary, earthy, starchy beets, and it was just right for very early spring. The pepperiness of the horseradish and arugula was nicely paired with the mildness of the fish and creme fraiche. Next time, though, I'll probably cut the beets into smaller shapes, and I'll try my best not to demolish the halibut fillet.

Sautéed Halibut with Arugula, Roasted Beets, and Horseradish Creme Fraiche

• 6 halibut fillets
• 1 lemon, zested
• 1 tablespoon thyme leaves
• 2 tablespoons coarsley chopped flat-leaf parsley
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 4 ounces arugula, cleaned
• Roasted Beets with Horseradish Creme Fraiche (recipe below)
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, for drizzling
• Kosher salt and freshly grouns black pepper

Season the fish with the lemon zest, thyme, and parsley. Cover and refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight. Remove the fish from the refrigerator 15 minutes before cooking, to bring it to room temperature.


Heat a large sauté pan over high heat for 1 minute. Season the fish on both sides with salt and pepper. Swirl the olive oil into the pan, and when it's shimmering, carefully lay the fish in the pan and press on them a little bit. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until the fillets are nicely browned. Turn the fish over, turn the heat to medium-low, and cook a few more minutes, until it's almost cooked through. 


Be careful not to overcook the fish. When it's done, the fish will begin to flake and separate a little, and the center will be slightly translucent. Scatter half of the arugula over a large platter. Arrange the beets on top, and drizzle with half the horseradish cream.


Tuck the rest of the arugula among the beets, so you can see the beets peeking through. Nestle the fish in the salad, and spoon a little horseradish cream over each piece. Drizzle the whole dish with olive oil and a big squeeze of lemon.

Roasted Beets with Horseradish Creme Fraiche

• 4 smallish bunches different-colored beets
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon diced shallot, plus 1/4 cup sliced shallots
• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 2 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice
• 1/2 cup creme fraiche
• 1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.


Cut off the beet greens, leaving 1/2 inch of the stems still attached. Clean the beets well, and peel with a vegetable peeler. Toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil and a teaspoon of salt.


Place the beets in a roasting pan with a splash of water in to bottom. Cover the pan tightly with foil, and roast for about 40 minutes, until they're tender when pierced. The roasting time will depend on the size and type of beet. When the beets are done, care fully remove the foil and allow them to cool. Cut the beets into 1/2-inch thick wedges.


While the beets are in the oven, combine the disced shallot, both vinegars, a teaspoon lemon juice, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a small bowl, and let sit 5 minutes. Whisk in the 1/2 cup olive oil. Taste for balance and seasoning.


Whisk the creme fraiche and horseradish together in a small bowl. Stir in the heavy cream, remaining 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper. Toss the beets and sliced shallots with the vinaigrette. (If you're using different-colored beets, dress them separately so that they don't discolor each other.) Season with 1/4 teaspoon salt and a pinch of freshly ground black pepper and toss well. Taste for balance and seasoning.






Here's a meal that I didn't mess up too badly (the rice was a tiny bit underdone, but it wasn't too noticeable):

This is one of Nick's favorite dishes, and it's in our regular rotation. It's relatively economical, and it's easy although it is a bit time-consuming. However, most of that time is not active time. It's spicy and satisfying, somewhat healthy, and the leftovers are delicious. We highly recommend that you try this meal.

Chicken and Brown Rice With Chorizo

• 2 1⁄2 lbs. bone-in skinless chicken thighs
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 3⁄4 lb. smoked, dried chorizo, cut into 1"-thick slices
• 2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh oregano
• 1⁄2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1⁄2 cups long-grain brown rice, rinsed
• 1⁄2 cup white wine
• 3 roasted red peppers, peeled, seeded, and cut into thick strips
• 3 cups chicken broth
• 1 cup frozen peas

Heat oven to 400°. Season the chicken lightly with salt and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a 4-quart dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add the chicken and cook, without turning, until it's a deep golden brown, about 8 minutes.
Transfer the chicken to a plate and set aside. (Pour off and discard any accumulated fat and juices.) Add the chorizo and cook, stirring frequently, until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer chorizo to a plate, leaving the fat behind in the dutch oven. Set chorizo aside.


Add oregano, red pepper, garlic, onion, and bay leaf to the dutch oven and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is lightly browned and somewhat soft, about 8 minutes. Add rice and cook, stirring frequently, until surface is glossy, about 2 minutes.


Add wine, bring to a boil while stirring often, and reduce by half, about 1 minute. Nestle chicken, chorizo, and half of the peppers into rice mixture. Pour in broth and season liquid to taste with salt and pepper. Cover the dutch oven and bring to a boil over high heat. Transfer to the oven and bake until rice is tender and chicken is cooked through, about 1 hour and 10 minutes.


Remove the dish from oven, uncover, and gently stir in the peas and the remainder of the peppers with a fork. Let sit for 10 minutes, covered, to allow the flavors to meld.

Deconstructed Paella, or Paella-Inspired Risotto, and Chicken Picatta with Preserved Lemon Risotto

I mentioned in one of the previous posts that I was planning to make something with the saffron that I thought I would have left over from another dinner, but didn't because I burnt the first batch while toasting it. I also mentioned that I was doing something top secret.

Well, the time has come for me to reveal my under-cover project. There's a group of bloggers who call themselves the Daring Cooks. There's also a group of Daring Bakers, but they're kind of out of my league, and I've mentioned that I'm not especially keen on having baked goods around the house, so I joined the Daring Cooks.

This is how it works--every month, someone is elected to pick a recipe of the month, which they post on the 17th. You then have until the 14th to make the recipe, per the specifications, and make a blog posting about it.

My first month's challenge was risotto. I was totally stoked about this, as I love risotto, and I recently found a large stash of Arborio rice in my spiffy kitchen drawer thingy. I've mentioned the zombie hoarding issues, but I haven't yet mentioned the moth issue.

Yeah, there were moths breeding in my spiffy drawer thing. It was really gross, and I probably shouldn't mention it in any kind of public arena, but I can assure you that the offending breeding ground was thoroughly eradicated. Anything that was not very tightly sealed was thrown out. I hate to be wasteful, but a lot of this stuff was a legacy of the hoarding days and was really old.

The Arborio rice, however, was tightly sealed and begging to be cooked. As Nick said, it was like they had read my mind.

In this Daring Cook's challenge, you can make a base recipe and elaborate from there, and you can also make the authors' recipe for Pumpkin Risotto or Preserved Lemon Risotto. Because of my Meyer lemon kick, Nick and I had actually recently discussed making preserved lemons. We talked about how it sounds pretty cool, but we weren't sure what to do with the lemons. Again, it was like they were reading my mind.

I mentioned the preserved lemon option to Nick, and we got to talking about what we would make with the preserved lemon risotto. One of us mentioned chicken cutlets, and Nick mentioned chicken Marsala. "Yeah, chicken piccata," I said, because I had been thinking the same thing. (That's what he meant, and I knew what he meant.)

Fortuitously, the risotto challenge also coincided with the arrival of Sunday Suppers at Lucques, which just happens to have a recipe for chicken piccata.

First, however, I had decided to do a paella-inspired risotto, partially because my Dad loves paella. And what do you know, Suzanne Goin has a recipe for saffron risotto in her book; it's really too bad I didn't follow it.

I meant to follow the recipe, but as I mentioned, I burned the saffron that was intended for this recipe. I also meant to buy more when we went to Wegman's to shop for dinner, but by the time we got to the saffron, Nick and I were totally hypoglycemic, so we had a very full shopping cart, so we decided that we didn't want to spend the $16 on the saffron. Plus, Nick was still a bit traumatized by the intensity of the saffron in the last dinner, and I was not too excited about a plasticky-tasting spice. So we left it out.

In retrospect, though, I think that the dish could have used it, and I also wish that I had added fresh thyme and a crushed chile de arbol like Suzanne Goin suggested. If I ever make this again, I probably really will use her saffron risotto recipe the way I had initially intended, and I'll probably throw in some paprika somewhere. I somehow forgot that it's a key component in paella.

I decided that this would be called "deconstructed" paella because paella and risotto take antithetical approaches to the cooking of rice. Risotto is cooked slowly and incrementally, with more liquid continually added as the previous portion of liquid is absorbed. Paella, however, gets liquid added to the rice, it's all covered, and it all (meat and seafood included) goes into the oven to cook undisturbed. It wouldn't really be possible to cook risotto in the same manner because it would then not be risotto, so it was all cooked separately and combined at the end. Hence, "deconstructed" paella.

We started by pan-searing some dried chorizo in an attempt to get some tasty fat in which to cook the rest of the ingredients. Surprisingly little fat was rendered, so we added some olive oil and sauteed a chopped onion. Then the rice was added, and it was toasted until it was glossy and only a little spot of white remained in the middle. White wine was then poured in and simmered away.

At this point, hot chicken stock was added a cup at a time, and the mixture was stirred frequently until it had reached the point where the rice was tender without being mushy, and the rice was kind of coated with a sauce-like liquid, but was not gloopy and gelatinous.

In the meantime, we caramelized some sliced shallots and roasted a red pepper. The red pepper was eventually peeled, thinly sliced, and added to the onions. We called this a shallot roasted red pepper confit.

We also peeled some shrimp, tossed them with garlic and salt, let them marinate, and pan seared them.

The mussels were steamed with garlic, onion, and beer. Unfortunately, I decided to see if it would work to throw everything in the pot and steam the mussels that way, partially because we had no butter available, and we had used the last of the olive oil. Now I know, though, that you really need to saute some aromatics before adding the mussels. The mussels weren't terrible, but they could have been more flavorful.

To put it all together, some peas and the sliced chorizo were stirred into the rice, and this was plated in a pile. The mussels went around the rice in a ring, and the red pepper shallot confit was placed on top of the rice. The shrimp went on top of the confit, and it was all garnished with chopped parsley.

The risotto was a bit under-seasoned both salt and herb-wise, and I've mentioned that the mussels weren't the most flavorful batch ever. Overall, though, it was a nice meal.

The confit was actually Nick's idea, and it was quite lovely added a note of freshness and flavor to the dish. We discussed ways in which, if we were to make it again, we could do much better, but none of us were sure if it is worth doing again.

We also discussed the fact that I managed to burn myself on the toaster oven. I wasn't even doing anything interesting. I was making toast, which is really quite lame. As Nick said, I can make 'deconstructed paella,' but can't make toast without giving myself a second degree burn.

I don't know if you can tell from this picture, but it went through the epidermis into the dermis. This picture is after a few days of healing; it actually looked bigger, and you could clearly see the two layers of skin.

So, while my Dad liked the paella, it just can't compare to the paella that he used to get in New York. That paella was the pinnacle of paella, and it is never to be duplicated. Paella is like that, though. There are a million different ways to make it, and everyone ends up with an ideal version in their minds, and no other paella will ever live up to that standard. It might be their grandmother's version, the version they had while sitting in a town square in Spain, or the one they had 30 years ago in New York.

I guess I'll never really get it right. Especially if I leave out the saffron and paprika. It's not really paella at all, then, is it?

So after the semi-successful paella, it was time for some preserved lemon risotto with chicken piccata, or, what Suzanne Goin calls Chicken Paillards with Parmesan Breadcrumbs. Before making the risotto, however, I had to make some more stock because the Daring Cooks stipulate that you must make your own stock.

There are a lot of approaches to making chicken stock, and they include using a whole chicken, a lot of chicken wings, chicken carcasses, and various other combinations of poultry parts. The stock suggested by the Daring Cooks uses a whole chicken, and they tell you to use the chicken meat for other purposes. I'm sorry guys, but for a multitude of reasons, I just didn't like that idea.

I used to make a recipe from Epicurious, but I've been finding it bland, so I decided to try Mario Batali's Brown Chicken Stock recipe because I like to freeze the bodies of the chickens that we've roasted and use them for stock.

This recipe involved browning the chicken carcasses, removing them to a plate, and sauteing the vegetables until they're soft and brown.

Per Suzanne Goin's brilliant suggestions, I substituted fennel for celery.

Water and herbs were added, and the mixture was simmered for a couple hours.

It turns out that heat was the element previously lacking in my stock-making procedure. Because the chicken and vegetables were seared, this stock was way more flavorful than any other I've made before, and I've decided that it is now my go-to stock recipe. Thanks, Mario.

Now that I had restocked my stock supply, it was time to make the risotto. As usual, an onion was sauteed, rice was cooked until it had a nice sheen, the pan was deglazed with white wine, and stock was added bit by bit.

Toward the end, some chopped preserved lemon peel was stirred in.

In the meantime, chicken breasts were pounded thin (which makes the bunnies really mad), and they were coated with flour, egg, and a panko breadcrumb, Parmesan, and parsley mixture.

They were then pan-seared until golden and just cooked through.

The chicken were removed, and garlic and a broken up chile de arbol were sauteed until aromatic, and the previously steamed broccolini was cooked. This step was supposed to involve sauteing escarole, and it was supposed to include rosemary. I decided, however, that we would prefer broccolini and rosemary wouldn't be so great with the broccolini.

When the broccolini was finished, butter was browned, poured into a little dish that we got in Mexico, and capers and parsley were stirred in. The recipe calls for lemon to be added to the brown butter, but it was already in the risotto so I didn't want to overwhelm the dish with lemon.

So how was it? Delicious. The risotto could have been salted more and cooked a bit longer, but it was still yummy. Also, we were cautious with the preserved lemon, but once the risotto was combined with the chicken, the lemon got a bit lost.

Nick said that his chicken was overcooked, but mine was perfect--tender and juicy, and the breadcrumb topping was deliciously crisp.

What really made the dish, though, was the caper sauce. I'm not always a fan of capers, but they're growing on me. The nuttiness of the brown butter, the freshness of the parsley, and the salty pungent element from the capers perfectly tied all of the other flavors together, and I just couldn't stop eating this meal.

Once again, this recipe made me really excited to try more of Suzanne Goin's recipes. So far, her recipes add up to more than the sum of their parts, which equals deliciousness.