Let me teach you guys a magic trick. How’d you like to learn how to take some old cans in your pantry and elevate the contents to heavenly bites of goodness? This white bean bruschetta is downright dirty in its simplicity – crack open a can of white beans, toss with a fresh vinaigrette of lemon, rosemary and garlic, and slather the deliciousness on toasted crostini. Continue reading White Bean Bruschetta with Rosemary and Lemon
The Colonel never did anything for me growing up – to this day, I am wedded to the addictive blend of herbs and spices that form a layer of lipsmacking goodness around the crisp skinned chickens roasted at the Peruvian joints in Northern Virginia (or for us OGs, two up – two down*) And I’m lying when I say joints, for there is only one location that has my heart, and that’s El Pollo Rico. The exterior of the restaurant looks like a nondescript warehouse with bumping fluorescent lighting and a steady clip of customers zipping in and emerging with styrofoam containers and brown paper bags almost translucent from the french fry grease. Like a speakeasy for chicken, my dad would always run in, broker the deal and grab the bounty, returning with parcels that perfumed the car with the scent of cumin, garlic and majesty. When we finally got home and tucked into the feast, it was scandalously good – the chicken was served with fat steak fries, and both items would receive a ceremonial dip in a mustard/mayo sauce and then a dollop of fresh minced jalapenos before making it to my greedy mouth. And if I was lucky (really lucky), they’d still have fried yucca in stock, which we’d bring home in lieu of the fries. Cracklingly golden on the outside and tender in the center, this was the first preparation I’d ever had for yucca and I was sold for life. In fact, I loved it so much that I had to find a way to prepare it at home – I couldn’t wait for trips to the right coast to get my yucca fix. Continue reading Fried Yucca with Mojo Criollo
Black beans and rice are soul mates as far as I’m concerned, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I am Brazilian and my peeps national dish consists of the aforementioned babies. Nah, it’s far more than simple genetics that accounts for my adoration. Black beans, glistening and gorgeous from a slow-simmer with a ham hock in the bath with them, are a treat that gets exponentially better the longer you let them hang out. Serve ’em up the next day and they’re gloriously fat from soaking up all the juices from the onions, garlic and spices. Inky and complex, I crave them fortnightly and will grow frantic (nay, manic) if I don’t make a pot to quell the storm that is my craving. Continue reading Cuban Black Beans and White Rice
I live for the moments in life where a mere bite of a particular dish makes me giddy. Stupid giddy. Giggling to myself like a goddamn lunatic in between bites and watching my plate like a sentry making sure that no one tries to sneak a bite. The first time that I tasted this deceptively simple dish of shrimp swimming in garlic, cream and herbs, I was actually depressed. Not because it didn’t elicit the effect that I described above. It was because my sister fucking ordered it, not me, and she felt as strongly about the shrimp as I did. With a butter knife poised to stab me in the hand if I tried to steal a bite. Ugh. Dining FAIL. Continue reading Jumbo Shrimp in Cilantro Sauce (Camarones en Salsa Verde)
Although this is barely a recipe, it can be construed as a damn good feast all by its lonesome. String beans honestly don’t need a whole lot of dressing up in order to be brilliant, and this recipe is the perfect proof of that. Garlic, butter and olive oil form a dressing for the tender crisp beans, showcasing their sweetness. Why mess with perfection?
If you like a little bit of added texture, feel free to toss in a smattering of slivered almonds. Or add dried cherries or cranberries for tartness. Whatever you choose to do, make it your own and don’t expend a lot of effort. The green beans are the stars of the show here. Continue reading Sauteed String Beans with Garlic
When did the art of creaming vegetables become en vogue? And when did it fall out of favor in the first place, with poor creamed corn holding up the fort, all the while labeled as low-brow and trailer park? It’s rather silly given that if ever there was a way to get people to give vegetables a chance, it’s to slather them in cream.
The first time I ever tried creamed spinach, I wasn’t really a true spinach convert. Boston Market (then Boston Chicken) had opened down the street from us and the family decided to give it a try. The guy working the counter (aka the “Side Dish Pimp”) tried to sell us on the glories of their creamed spinach, touting it as a game changer. We took the bait and I took my first bite of the stuff, more dairy than veg and not at all what I had imagined it to be. Years later, I realize that what I had had wasn’t revolutionary, but it did deserve credit for resoundingly convincing me that spinach is on my team 100%. *in my best Will Ferrell as Robert Goulet voice* “You win, spinach. You always do!” Continue reading Creamed Spinach
My husband likes most all that I cook for him – in fact, the only thing that got a resounding thumbs down were my Cold Peanut Noodles – I still say it’s not the noodles so much as his distaste for cold pasta, but that’s another story for another day. But because of his regular approval, I live for those dishes that mean adoration spelled across his face in a smile – the ones that get a “This is REALLY good, baby!” instead of a mere “It’s good.” The bites that make him look up immediately, eyes creased with a smile, the satisfaction emanating in a grin and nod. They don’t tell you when you get married that you become hypersensitive to context clues, but alas, here I am, reading facial expressions like ancient runes, sussing out the inside scoop. Continue reading Littleneck Clams with Chorizo and Garlic
This recipe was a part of a special menu for Foodbuzz’s June 2011 food blogger party, 24×24. Showcasing posts from 24 Foodbuzz Featured Publisher bloggers, the monthly Foodbuzz 24 highlights unique meals occurring around the globe during a 24-hour period. Read more about my meal along with all of the other recipes at An Ode to Orvieto.
This recipe is sometimes served rather chunkily, but I first had it as a smooth, almost hummus-like spread. Some folks make it with a heavy kick of garlic or basil, but the way I had it, the seasonings were mild, allowing the fava beans to shine. The best thing you can do is get the tastiest olive oil to drizzle, your favorite bread for toast points (I love a good ciabatta) and the most savory, nutty pecorino you can find. Then, with a minimal amount of cooking, you can relish in the the joy of the fabulous fava bean.
1 loaf of ciabatta, sliced into 1 inch ovals
1 clove of garlic
olive oil
1 lbs. of unshelled fava beans
juice of 1/2 lemon, freshly-squeezed
4 tbs. of white balsamic vinegar
1/2 c. of olive oil
2 cl. of garlic
3 sprigs of parsley, leaves removed and stems discarded (save stems for stock)
4 sprig of mint
1/4 tsp. of salt
1/4 tsp. of black pepper
pecorino romano
Drizzle the bread slices with olive oil and toast until golden and crisp. Rub the warm slices with the clove of garlic and set aside.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Remove the fava beans from their husks and drop into the water. Drain and cool under running water. Remove the beans from their outer white membrane – you’ll have two split bean halves that’ll come out of the husk. Drop the fava beans, lemon juice, balsamic, olive oil, garlic, parsley, mint, salt and pepper into a food processor and blitz until smooth.
Slather a few tablespoons of the fava bean puree on the toasts and shave pecorino romano over the top. Drizzle with a good olive oil and serve.
Back when I was rocking plaid skirts and a blazer in high school (and even before that as a tagalong with my mom’s running club), we used to frequent a quirky eatery called Generous George’s Positive Pizza and Pasta Place. Fake flamingos and pink and teal paint dripping with kitsch and childhood memorabilia everywhere, it looked a little like Miami Vice and Parker Brothers got together as an interior design firm. And do I recall a shark hanging from the ceiling? Or maybe a surf board? It was probably both.
Aesthetics aside, the place was too fun. The pizzas featured airy, pliant dough with mounds of toppings and cheese. And the pastas, all served on a single-sized pizza crust, were epic sized portions that even my dad’s appetite could not slay. People left the place with takeout boxes and close to a pound of pasta in leftovers. My mom usually got the red or white clam, Dad loved Old Naples with crumbled sausage and melted cheese, and Lexi usually ordered a personal pizza and pretended to be full after a bite or two so that she could get away with ordering dessert. I used to be a sucker for the Chicken Romano Fettucine, basically alfredo with chicken, ham, peas and mushrooms, until I ordered the Rosemary Chicken Florentine on a whim. The first time made me a convert – farfalle tossed with tender chicken, spinach, bacon, roasted red peppers in a rosemary cream sauce. It was ridiculous. Preposterous. I was hooked.
Years have gone by since I’ve rolled down Duke Street in Alexandria to see our old haunt, and it turns out that there’s only my memories of the place to serve me now. My sister posted on Facebook that the location was demoed and is now a PNC Bank. I wondered if they auctioned off the merry-go-round pony that was in the main dining room? Anyways, rather than put on my old school uniform, I decided to relive a classic and make a heaping mess of the beloved pasta. I cut back the fat on the sauce, using milk instead of cream, and I didn’t have a pizza crust to use as a plate. But it was still ridiculous. Still preposterous. And apparently, I’m still hooked.
Ingredients
2 chicken breasts
1 sprig of fresh rosemary
2 c. of chicken stock
1 c. of white wine
1/2 tsp. of white pepper
1/2 tsp. of black pepper
1 tsp. of salt
1/4 tsp. of garlic powder
2 bay leaves
4 strips of bacon
4 cloves of garlic
6 oz. of roasted red peppers, sliced
6 oz. of baby spinach
1 tbs. of olive oil
1 tbs. of chopped rosemary leaves
1 lb. of dried pasta cuts (farfalle, conchiglie, ziti, penne)
6 tbs. of butter
3 tbs. of flour
2 1/2 c. of whole milk
1 c. of locatelli
1/2 tsp. of black pepper
pinch of white pepper
pinch of nutmeg
1/4 tsp. of garlic powder
Begin by cooking the chicken. Add two boneless, skinless chicken breasts to a saucepan with the stock, wine, rosemary sprigs, bay leaves, 1/2 tsp. of white pepper, 1/2 tsp. of black pepper, 2 tsp. of salt and 1/4 tsp. of garlic powder. Bring to a boil and then turn off the heat. Cover and let sit for 15 minutes. Remove chicken from poaching liquid and let cool slightly. Shred with two forks. Set aside.
Now make the sauce. Melt the butter in a saucepan over low heat. Whisk in the flour, white pepper, black pepper, garlic powder and nutmeg. Add the milk, whisking the entire time to prevent lumps. Turn the heat to medium and whisk until thickened. Stir in the locatelli and remove from the heat. Stir in the roasted red peppers. Set aside.
Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to box directions. While the water comes to a boil, add bacon to a skillet and brown. Toss in garlic, rosemary, spinach and the olive oil and cook until spinach is wilted. Season with a little extra salt and black pepper and set aside.
When the pasta finishes, drain and toss with the red pepper cream sauce, spinach/chicken/garlic/rosemary mixture. Top with extra grated locatelli and serve hot.
