The Real Meaning of Comfort Food

When life around you tumbles into chaos, some might argue that cooking is not always the wisest course of action.  My response to them would probably be something approximating, “Well, you’ve got to eat, don’t you?” 
 
That was pretty much the case this weekend.  On Friday, I made a quick dash to the store to pick up a few remaining items necessary to prepare a sultry Moroccan ragu of pork, onion, carrots, butternut squash, chickpeas, enriched with layers of aromatics and sweet spices― all simmered into a state of lush complexity.   

Back at home, it was pretty clear that I had a problem with my kitchen sink.  When the faucet was on, water flowed from under the sink onto the floor.   Once I determined the water was no longer gushing, I placed a pan under the sink, mopped up my mess, and debated my next step. Living out in the country is wonderful, but there are a few drawbacks.  Such as: calling the plumber late on a Friday.   Additional scheduling time plus higher house call fees always give me pause.      

 

I sent up an SOS to my neighbor, Gerald, our resident handyman.   As long as I didn’t run water, we agreed that there was no great emergency; he would stop by in the morning with his wrench and we would assess the situation then.    

 
So much for any big cooking plans; they were squelched for the night.  Still in damage control mode, I decided to keep a lid on making any more of a mess than necessary and opted for a simple veggie burger dinner from the freezer.

In the morning, before Gerald arrived, I warmed a loaf of whole wheat soda bread from the freezer,  set out a charming bowl of muscadine jelly, a ramekin of butter, napkins, plates, coffee cups and juice glasses.   Just looking at it made me happy! Yes, food is very therapeutic.     

Meanwhile, since my urge to cook was percolating up again, it seemed like the ideal opportunity to begin simmering a pot of chicken stock.   From the freezer, I pulled out a recently frozen roasted chicken, dropped it in a pot of water, and got it simmering on the stove.  What better to time to prep the basic ragu vegetables than while adding the trimmings to the pot?  In went a rib of celery, a pinch of thyme, and a bay leaf, too.   There!  The vegetables were all prepped, tucked back in the fridge, and ready when needed.  Simmering on the back of the stove, the stock smelled divine.  All was well.   

It also looked like it I could quickly conjure up the Moroccan pork marinade.  In a blink I had a heavenly blend of ground coriander, cumin, ginger, turmeric, paprika, and pepper, all bound with a hint of lemon juice and a dash of olive oil.   Mmmm, what a mood elevator!

 At the market earlier, I had elected to decrease the usual 1-1/2 lbs. boneless pork for a ¾ pound slice of tenderized pork plus a package of sliced cremini mushrooms.  Such a small amount, I might as well cut the pork into cubes add it to the marinade, and store it in a zip lock bag.  Then, I gave it all a good massage and popped it in the fridge.    No muss, no fuss; another step done.  

 
Gerald arrived to a spotless kitchen; we put our heads together, and got to assessing the situation.   Yes, it looked like a clogged drain alright, but peering under the sink he spotted other issues that looked questionable― albeit easily remedied.   Waving his arms wildly, he put forth possible scenarios.   More tools required, more mop up, the day dragged on; the kitchen was slowly unraveling.  By late afternoon, the situation had worsened and Gerald was flummoxed.  When the faucet was on, the sink leaked more than ever and water now gushed from an errant hose onto the kitchen floor.   I thanked Gerald for all his help (sigh) as he dashed out the door shaking his head.  He had football games ahead and a big screen waiting for him at home.   
 

It looked like I had no choice but to call in the plumber; but not today.   I surmised I was safe as long as I didn’t run water in the sink.  I had Moroccan ragu in my future and tomorrow was another day.
 

Notes about the recipe:  this is a very adaptable concept.  As mentioned, I substituted cremini mushrooms for part of the pork.  Preserved lemons are on my hit list, but for now, I used the lemon as indicated, plus I included the lemon remains to the ragu as it simmered. I also added 2 to 3 cups of chopped chard from the garden with the return of the pork.  Since my ragu had plenty of liquid when done, I thickened it with 2 tablespoons instant tapioca pearls.  It proved to be outstanding thickener. I served it over a simple couscous seasoned lightly with fresh ginger and a bay leaf.  Bliss in a bowl.

Moroccan-Flavored Ragu with Pork and Winter Squash

Adapted from Eating Well

Ingredients

2 lemons

2 1/2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

2 teaspoons paprika, preferably Hungarian

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1/4 teaspoon ground, plus 1 pinch, divided

1 1/2 pounds boneless pork chops, (1 inch thick), trimmed of fat, cut into 1-inch cubes

14 ounces chicken broth

1 cup butternut squash, peeled and diced (1/2-inch dice)

1 cup carrots, sliced (1/2 inch thick)

1 cup canned chickpeas, rinsed

1/2 cup onion, chopped

1/2 cup canned diced tomatoes

2 tablespoons preserved lemon, chopped rinsed, (see Note; optional)

1 tablespoon tomato paste

2 teaspoons minced garlic

1/4 teaspoon hot sauce, such as Tabasco

1 Pinch ground cinnamon

1 Pinch ground allspice

 

Instructions

Zest and juice the lemon(s) to get 1 tablespoon zest and 2 tablespoons juice; reserve the zest. Combine the juice, 1/2 teaspoon oil, paprika, turmeric, coriander, cumin, pepper and 1/4 teaspoon ginger in a medium bowl. Add pork; stir to coat. Marinate in the refrigerator for 30 minutes or up to 4 hours.

Heat the remaining 2 teaspoons oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the pork and cook, stirring, until no longer pink on the outside and beginning to brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer the pork to a plate.

To the pan, add broth, squash, carrots, chickpeas, onion, tomatoes, preserved lemon (if using), tomato paste, garlic, hot sauce, cinnamon, allspice, the reserved lemon zest and the remaining pinch of ginger to the pan. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally; reduce heat to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Stir in the pork, return to a simmer and cook, stirring, until the pork is just cooked through, 2 to 5 minutes more.

Serve over couscous, bulgur or rice, and garnish with a blend of 1/4 cup chopped cilantro, 2 tablespoons chopped scallions and 1 tablespoon chopped mint.

Summer Time Pizza

I love summer pizza when sun ripe herbs and vegetables are at their peak.  Here is a sublime version we recently devoured that is crowned with a glorious tomato-basil salad.

Basil, oh Basil!

 As I pulled the pizza from the oven, the heady aroma of garlic, basil, and cheese was almost too much to bear. Fortunately there is little down time since the last minute topping of the flavorful lemony-dressed arugula salad is ready and waiting.   

We were so into enjoying the pizza that we did not even spare the time to snap a photo of this beauty. Trust me, it is both beautiful and delicious.

The fact is, this yummy pizza is all about the pesto, and amazingly, it seems I have previously failed to provide a recipe for it. 

So, if pesto making is on your horizon,  now is the time to find a good supply of fresh basil, pull out the blender or food processor, and give this one a whirl. The pine nuts are not essential, but they greatly enhance the pesto and provide the mysterious smoky ingredient that binds the texture and flavors of the olive oil, basil, garlic and Parmesan cheese.  Enjoy!

Summer Pizza topped with Tomato-Basil Salad

Ingredients

Pizza:

·         1 Pizza Crust, prebaked

·         1/3 cup fresh pesto (see below)

·         2 roasted red peppers, skinned and seeded, cut into strips

·         ½ large sweet onion, such as Walla Walla, peeled and cut into strips

·         1 cup grated melting cheese such as mozzarella or Muenster, divided

·         2 oz. dry Coppa or prosciutto ham, cut into strips

·         1/3 cup Parmesan cheese grated

 Salad:

·         1 ½  cups sliced baby tomatoes

·         18 or more arugula or romaine leaves cut into thin strips (about 3 cups)

·         1/3 cup fresh basil, julienned

Dressing:

·         juice of ½ lemon (about 2 Tbsps.)

·         1 clove garlic, crushed

·         ½ tsp. Dijon mustard

·         ¼ tsp. salt and pepper, each

·         2 tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese, divided

·         1/3 cup olive oil

  

Directions

For the Pizza:

1.       Spread the crust with a thin film of of pesto.

2.       Cover the pesto with a  layer of onions, then the red pepper.  Sprinkle the vegetables with half of the mozzarella or Muenster.

3.       Top the cheese with a layer of Coppa strips, then the remaining cheese, and finally the Parmesan.

4.       Bake in 425 degree oven for 8-10 minutes or until cheese begins to bubble and brown.

Allow to cool slightly before cutting.

  

For the Salad and Dressing:

1.       For dressing, in a small jar combine the lemon juice through 1 Tbsp. Parmesan.  Add the olive oil and shake until thick.  The dressing can be made ahead. 

2.       Shortly before serving, place tomatoes, lettuce and basil in a bowl.

To assemble pizza, toss the salad with the dressing until well coated.

Spread the pizza with tomato-arugula salad or drape individual pizza slices with a spoonful of the salad. Sprinkle with remaining 1 Tbsp. Parmesan cheese and serve. Serves 2, or more, maybe.

Pinoli Pesto  
Ingredients

·         2 heaping cups basil leaves, stems removed; washed and dried

·         2-3 cloves garlic, sliced

·         ½  tsp. salt

·         ¼  tsp. black pepper or red pepper flakes

·         1/3  cup pine nuts, toasted

·         1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

·         2/3 cup olive oil

Directions 

Place all except olive oil in container of blender.  Slowly add the olive oil and blend until all leaves are incorporated and pesto is thick, with a slight grainy consistency.  Yield:  1 cup.  Store in refrigerator. 

A Complete Life

When it comes to life’s pleasures―and food is surely one of them, my life is far richer when there is an herb garden planted nearby.  I’ve learned it doesn’t have to be much, but there is something hugely fulfilling about kneeling amongst fresh herbs and gathering a supply to complement my cooking.  

The smell of the earth combined with the scent of freshly cut herbs restores me.   I love the perfume left behind on my skin from the oils of their bruised leaves.  On my kitchen sink, a small vase of herbs further inspires me; it brightens the space and continues to welcome all who enter. 

When I’ve lived in cold climates sage and rosemary were enough to sustain me.  In tropical locales, basil and perhaps cilantro were often my regulars.  Now, in a moderate region, I’m very fortunate to have a well rounded supply of oregano, chives, rosemary, summer and winter savory, English and lemon thyme, and purple and yellow sage.  A few of the tougher ones survive winter’s rain and snow, while fragile chives and some of the thyme, hunker in and return again when it warms up.   

Recently the thyme, savory, and oregano began going to seed.  It was time to do a quick thinning and cut them back before they became too leggy and awkward.  While I was at it, I cut everyone back and brought the residual crop inside to dry.  I laid it all out on sheet pans for a couple of days to begin the process―then moved it all to a large bowl and lightly covered it to further dry. 

This herb blend has become a real staple in my kitchen.  It may vary slightly depending on amounts and varieties used, but it is always surprisingly similar.  The winter savory, sage, and rosemary give it deep aromatic complexity while the thyme, summer savory, and oregano balance and brighten it.  Amazingly, all these unique elements seem to come together and create a distinct flavor and scent. 

I’ve always been a big herb salt fan and it didn’t take me long to figure out it was time to make my own.  Since then, herb salt has become a regular and recognizable part of my cooking.   I have resorted to regularly creating a similar blend with kosher salt.  I jazz it up a bit for gifts and special occasions by including unique grades of sea salt such as pink Himalayan or a fleur de sel.    

 

This herb salt blend has become my standard for sprinkling on eggs, pizza and in mixed salad dressings.  When roasting, it is my go-to seasoning for chicken and fish.  

I wish you could smell my latest batch of herbal salt.   There’s a slight whiff of pine trees and desert trails, lush floral notes, and lilting wafts of citrus. It is crazy that a jar of herbs and salt could anchor me to the land and resonate of the hills and valleys that surround me. 

Yes, it's true, though; my herb salt blend actually does provide an identifiable sense of place.