Empanadas - a Doughy Exploration

Like the Chinese dumpling, the perogy, the samosa and Cornish pasty, the empanada has many global cousins, each delicious morsels, all wrapped up inside a half moon shape of dough made from rice flour, corn masa, wheat flour or other starchy substances.

The empanada is from the Hispanic clan that garners influences from the Phillipines, Mexico and Latin America, and Spain, each adding its own particular flavour.

I've spent the last three days making empanadas, trying three different recipes to get a handle on the ultimate pastry. I've still got a long way to go but here are my first findings. I baked all of them as opposed to deep frying, giving them an egg wash to produce a shiny finish. Love that.

The first was a simple biscuity-type dough made with baking powder, fresh lard and butter, milk and egg. Mashed potatoes, chorizo and pickled jalapenos - for zing - was the filling.

A little dry, I may try this one again without baking powder, but all in all a good basic dough.

Next up was a yeasted Spanish recipe made with olive oil and saffron, sourced from The New Spanish Table by Anya von Bremzen. Exotic with flecks of saffron throughout and easy to make, I chose a filling from the same book that required slow cooked onions and peppers.

The slow cooking creates a mixture that is jam-like, or to a use a more current descriptor, confit- like.

I substituted the requested tuna with shredded chicken from our previous night's roast.

As a bonus, I've found the perfect teacup to mark the pastry.
The filling was topped with sliced green olives to give it a pickley flavour similar to a picadillo, a preparation I've seen and made numerous times.
I made small and large empanadas. Just because.
Water doesn't seal this pastry, it needs to be crimped.

The yeasted dough produced a moist flakey pastry and firmly held the ingredients. This one is a keeper.
And finally on day three - we're getting kind of full around here - a butter and cream cheese dough that is dead easy to make. The shrimp filling with pickled jalapenos, capers, olives and tomatoes has that picadillo feeling again.

This particular dough was very flexible and sealed wonderfully, pressing together with my hands and a fork tine flourish.

Delicious! You might want to give it a try.

Shrimp Empanaditas

(by permission of author Marilyn Tausend)

For the filling:

2 T. canola or safflower oil

1/2 white onion, finely chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 1/2 lb. ripe tomatoes, peeled and finely chopped

2 bay leaves

sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1 lb.(500g) shrimp (prawns), peeled and chopped into 1/4" pieces

4 pickled jalapenos or serranos, finely chopped, with 1 T pickling liquid

8 pimento-stuffed green olives, chopped

12 capers, finely chopped

For the dough:

1 cup (8oz/250g) unsalted butter, at room temperature

6 oz.(185g) low-fat cream cheese, at room temperature

2 cups(10 oz/315g) unbleached all-purpose flour

sea salt

1 large egg

To make the filling, in a large frying pan over medium heat, warm the oil. Add the onion and garlic and saute until soft but not browned, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, bay leaves, salt and pepper to taste, reduce the heat to medium-low, and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is dry, 10-15 minutes. Add the shrimp, chilies and pickling liquid, olives, and capers and stir until the shrimp are opaque and the mixture is dry, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat, remove and discard the bay leaves, and set aside to cool for at least 30 minutes or, preferably, let cool completely, cover, and refrigerate overnight. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. The filling should be full flavoured and highly seasoned.

To make the dough, in a bowl, using a large wooden spoon, beat together the butter and cream cheese until well blended. Stir in the flour and 1/2 tsp. salt and mix well. Knead the dough just until it holds together and can be formed into a ball. Wrap with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 15 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F(190C). Lightly grease a baking sheet. On a lightly floured work surface, divide the dough in half. Roll out one half until it is 1/8 "(3mm) thick. Using a 3-inch (7.5 cm) biscuit or cookie cutter, cut out rounds. Place a heaping teaspoon of the filling in the center of each round, fold the round in half, and seal securely by pressing with your fingers. Use the tines of a fork to crimp the edges.

In a small bowl, beat the egg with 1/2 tsp. water. Brush the tops of the half-moons with the egg mixture and place on baking sheet. Bake until lightly browned, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool for at least 5 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Makes around 30 empanaditas.

Winter Garden Kale Soup

With signs of spring bursting forth - a little early, but who's complaining - I'm ready to plant peas, spinach and radishes. To make room, the last of the winter greens have gotta go. That means you, kale.

This easy and nutritious soup gets a lift with a garnish of sheep and goat feta, toasted pine nuts and a drizzle of the finest extra virgin olive oil.

Saute leeks, celery, garlic and thyme. Add potato and chicken stock and simmer until all the flavours meld, around 35 - 40 minutes.

Once the kale leaves are cleaned - pick off the longer stalks - roughly chop and add to the soup.

Get out your handy-dandy hand blender and blend the ingredients until smooth. Taste and season to taste with salt and freshly-ground pepper. Toast some pine nuts.

Serve and top each bowl with a spoon of cheese, a sprinkle of nuts and a drizzle of olive oil.

Groove on all that vitamin-rich kale.

Winter Garden Kale Soup

2 leeks, cleaned and chopped, using the white and - gasp! -the green part

1 clove garlic, minced

2 sticks celery, chopped

1 T. fresh thyme leaves

1 T. extra virgin olive oil and extra for garnish

6 cups of chicken stock

2 medium yukon gold potatoes, peeled and quartered

5 cups (firmly packed) baby kale leaves, cleaned and roughly chopped

2 T. pine nuts, roasted

1/4 cup sheep and goat feta

In your favourite soup pot, heat the tablespoon of olive oil over medium high heat. Add the leeks, garlic, celery and thyme and saute briefly until the leeks soften slightly. Add the potatoes and stir to combine. Add the chicken stock, bring to the boil and simmer for 35 minutes.

Meanwhile, clean the kale leaves, picking off any long stems. Wash and dry throughly and roughly chop. Set aside. Toast the pine nuts in a dry cast iron pan. Set aside.

Add the kale leaves to the soup after 35 minutes. Heat through and allow the kale to wilt and soften, around 5 minutes. Hand blend the soup until smooth. Taste and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Divvy out the soup in bowls. Add a piece of feta to the middle of the bowl, sprinkle with pine nuts and drizzle with olive oil. Enjoy. It's good for you.

Medieval Reminiscence

More wine, wench!

This was the drunken cry that hounded me every weekend for two years at the Medieval Inn. 

It was the 1970s and this was my first official job in the service industry. I contributed to many a horrid hangover, pouring all-you-can-drink B.C. red to adults wearing bibs, which we the wenches courteously secured around their necks.

Set in an old creepy brick building in Vancouver's Gastown, authenticity was paramount and we took our jobs seriously. Dark, dank and overrun with mice, two floors of the building were reserved for private functions where we worked our wenching magic.

We would festoon the rooms with candles and incense, issuing each guest with a bowl, a glass and a steak knife, a bowl of nuts and basket of oranges for sharing.  After setting the stage we would tart ourselves up for the evening. A low cut white blouse with puffy sleeves, a long red skirt and a wide leather belt that laced up beneath our bosoms. 

Being young and naive certainly helped our enthusiasm, but it was the promise of getting high each evening with either the minstrels, the "lord" of the evening or the drunken revellers.  We felt that being stoned helped us get into our roles and made us more efficient. Or so we thought. Our boss didn't quite agree when he caught 10 wenches sharing a fatty one evening.

If none of you remember the Medieval restaurant experience, the dinner went something like this: you and your friends could rent out one of the party rooms and drink as much as you wanted for a nominal fee. Dinner was included and consisted of four courses: cream of leek soup (or cock-a-leekie), one trout with head and bones, half a Cornish game hen followed by roast beef.

Each course, or rather, "remove" was presented with much pomp and circumstance. Entertainment was provided by a wandering minstrel - in tights no less - and a lord who officiated at the head of the table, conducting the show.

The lord, an out-of-work Shakespearean actor, also took his role seriously. He entertained the party with ribald jokes and songs, getting drunk alongside everyone else. If he could no longer speak or capture the attention of the drunken and unruly crowd - which was more often than not - he would resort, like any other trained actor would, to improvisation. This usually took the form of standing on the table, lifting his lordly gown and flashing the guests. Now, that's entertainment!

As I mentioned earlier, the table was laden with nuts - which you had to crack with your bowl - a basket of oranges and a steak knife. These oranges were rarely eaten and more often became weapons for that jolly medieval game of bean-your-neighbour-in-the-head. We, the wenches, became inadvertent targets along with the merry wandering minstrel. The food fights usually became particularly nasty by the second remove of the evening - Cornish game hen.

Standing in the middle of the room, with a platter of steaming roasted hens, we would announce, " Lords and ladies, the second remove of the evening is Cornish game hen." We would then impale each half with a dangerous and medieval looking fork and fling them onto plates, assembly line style. While dodging flying bullets, we would fling with lots of hearty enthusiasm - or resentment - depending on the guests. Besides, the flying juices only added to the theatre and those bibs helped a lot.

If there were any bones left on the plates we would wander the room with a large metal bucket calling, " alms for the poor, alms for the poor." (Oh, brother). The guests would scrape their scraps into the bucket and away we would go for more jugs of wines.

This continued on for at least four hours, food flying, with many guests removing clothing or throwing up their removes. At this point the damage had been done, we had done our duty and took it as a cue to scurry off and smoke a fat one in the change room.

At the end of the evening, in an altered state, the wenches duties continued as we scrubbed the thick wooden tables with a bucket of soapy water and a stiff brush. A forgotten guest would be inevitably be found passed out somewhere in the dark room and had to be carried down the stairs and into a cab.

Cleaning up one particular evening, we discovered a camera with film still left in it. Inspired, we decided to do a little "flashing" of our own before depositing the camera to the lost and found. 

It was our way of saying, "thanks, for the memories."

The Wench

Fill shaker with ice

1 0z. Spiced Rum

1 oz. Amaretto

Shake. Strain into a shot glass.

Earthy Pork and Chilie Soup

I call it a culinary haunting.

Ever since the Christmas comida we enjoyed at La Capilla, I can't shake the thought of the soup we had as a first course. Slow cooked in the pit with the goat's liver and heart, chilies, avocado leaves and hearty vegetables, its deep earthy flavours were an instant restorative, revealing themselves spoonful after luscious spoonful.

Almost two months later, the flavour-packed spectre won't leave me, along with thoughts on how to recreate the dish at home. Needless to say, I've been exorcising in the kitchen.

A few things are certain not to happen: digging a pit in my backyard and a cooking a whole goat.

I decided to use pork ribs for meat, flavour from the bone and a bit of fat. The rack of ribs were cut right down the middle by my butcher. This is to create smaller pieces easier to handle in a soup bowl.

The ribs are then poached in water with onion, bay and peppercorns to create some stock and par-cook the meat. Around 45 minutes.

(To add extra depth, I had rich chicken stock on hand, made from roasted bones. That was to be added later).

Some bass notes are needed: roasted onions, garlic, tomatoes and chilie guajillos.
Chilies with stems and seeds removed are lightly toasted on both sides and soaked in hot water for 20 - 30 minutes. The skin of chilie guajillos are tough and necessitate a good soaking.

Onions are thickly sliced and garlic is left in its skin to roast on a hot comal. (A technique I learned from Rick Bayless).

Tomatoes are then roasted, and the three ingredients are chopped - with the onion's and garlic's papery skins removed - to be added to the soup later.

The soaked chilies are drained and blended to a smooth puree, seasoned (fried) in a deep saucepan. Stock is added, roasted and chopped ingredients follow, brought to the boil and simmered for 30 minutes to meld and mingle.

Pork ribs, cool enough to handle, are cut into bite-size pieces and added to the cauldron.

Chickpeas are added and at the last 20 minutes, carrots and green beans.

Taste. Season. As soon as you see oil pooling on top, your soup is done. Add some chopped cilantro before serving.

It's been keeping the spirits at bay. For the meantime.

Earthy Pork and Chilie Soup ( a late winter incantation)

Serves 4

1 3/4 - 2 lbs baby back ribs, cut down the middle by your butcher

5 chile guajillos, stemmed and seeded

4 medium tomatoes, roasted whole

1 medium white onion, thickly sliced and roasted

5 garlic cloves, left in their skins and roasted

1- 19 fl. oz can of chickpeas

2 large carrots,peeled and chopped

1/2 lb. green beans, stemmed and cut into quarter lengths

5 cups stock total (a combination of pork and rich chicken stock is great)

5 avocado leaves, toasted (optional)

1/2 cup firmly packed cilantro leaves, chopped for garnish

In a deep saucepan, add the ribs with half an onion, a few Mexican laurel leaves, salt and whole peppercorns. Add just enough water to cover all the ingredients. Bring to a boil, skimming the surface and simmer for 45 minutes. Once done, remove the ribs to a plate to cool, strain the stock and reserve, measuring at this point. Clean the saucepan.

Toast the seeded and stemmed chilie guajillos on a hot comal or cast iron frying pan, being careful not to burn them. Transfer the chilies to a bowl of hot water and soak for 20 to 30 minutes. Lightly toast the avocado leaves if using and set aside.

On the same comal, toast/roast the sliced onions and garlic evenly on both sides - char marks are okay. Transfer to a cutting board. Add the tomatoes to the comal and roast all over. Transfer them to a bowl.

Remove the skins from the onion and garlic and chop fine. Do the same with the tomatoes and transfer to a bowl - don't lose any of the tomato juice.

Remove the chilies from the soaking water to a blender, crumble the toasted avocado leaves, if using, on top and blend until very smooth, using some of the soaking water to just loosen the blades and achieve a thick-ish consistency.

Heat 2 T. oil or lard to the clean saucepan. Add the pureed chilies through a strainer and fry the sauce over medium heat, stirring constantly for 4 minutes.

Add the chopped ingredients, the stock and chickpeas. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer.

Once the ribs are cool enough to handle, cut into bite size pieces, using the bones as a guide as to where to cut. Add them to the soup along with the carrots and green beans and bring to a boil and simmer again until the carrots and beans are al dente and the ribs are cooked through - around 20 minutes.

Taste and season. Ladle into deep bowls and garnish with chopped cilantro.

Let Them Eat Potato Cakes

A popular snack found at fondas and street food stalls throughout Mexico, potato cakes or tortitas de papa, are wonderful on their own - as any potato-based snack is - or gussied up with salsa on a plate.

I played around with ingredients to arrive at the recipe below, based on what was on hand.

It's by no means perfect. I see it as a springboard for future kitchen fun. You might like to do the same.

I whipped up a simple tomato sauce. One can of plum tomatoes whipped up in a blender with a small onion, reduced over medium high heat with some cilantro sprigs for flavour and chicken stock to bring it to the right consistency - not too thick, not too thin.

A green salsa for contrast came out of five jalapenos that had to be used up. Stems removed, chilies chopped and whizzed around in the blender with a small garlic clove, salt and enough water to get the blades moving around.

A simple yet kick ass salsa that brightens up the potato cake's day.
Yukon Golds, peeled and boiled until soft. Drain well.
Mash the potatoes evenly. Add grated cheese - aged cheddar this time around - and lots of chopped cilantro. Add salt and freshly ground pepper.
Form into patties and place onto a wax paper lined tray. Cover and refrigerate until ready to cook.
The cold patties are dipped in lightly beaten egg before being fried in vegetable oil. Cast iron skillets rock.

Plate and serve.
Tortitas de Papa (Potato Cakes) Yield 18 cakes@2 1/2" diameter

2 lbs. Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters

1 1/2 cups of finely grated aged white cheddar

1/2 cup cilantro, leaves only, chopped

2 eggs

freshly ground pepper

salt to taste

vegetable oil for frying

Cook the potatoes in boiling water until tender. Drain well and mash the potatoes evenly. Add the grated cheese, chopped cilantro, salt and pepper and work in the ingredients into the mashed potato well.

Form into patties about 2 1/2 " diameter. You should have about 18 cakes total. Place them onto a wax paper lined baking sheet.

Cover and refrigerate until ready to cook.

In a bowl, beat the eggs slightly.

Heat two cast iron skillets over medium high heat. Add oil.

Dip each potato cake into the egg mixture, coating each side evenly and lightly. Let any excess drip away.

Fry on both sides until beautiful and brown and crispy. Transfer to a paper towel lined baking sheet and keep warm in the oven while you fry the rest of the cakes.

To plate: Lay down some tomato sauce. Add the cakes in the middle. Top with salsa and have extra at the table for those who like heat.

P.S. any leftovers are great eaten cold, and that classic standby, chipotle mayonnaise, also pairs nicely with the potato cakes. Just pass on the tomato sauce.

Ziti and the D.O.P. Tomatoes

Sounds like the name of a rock band doesn't it?

Today's post is short and sweet - like the tomatoes - because I needed something to post to stop looking at that raw tongue photo. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know what I mean?

Anyhow, the certification D.O.P. on this can of San Marzanos stands for denominazione d'origine protetta. Say it with me one time. Protected by law and the Italian government, these pear-shaped beauties are guaranteed to be grown from original seed stock in the volcanic soil of the Saranese-Nocerino area of Italy.

They are renowned for their tart, firm pulp, deep red colour and low seed count, a point that would suggest the preciousness of saving the seeds for the next crop! They make killer sauce.

Their texture is velvety and flavour sweetly tart. The tomatoes work beautifully on a pizza made from D.O.P flour, simply hand-squished on top with a drizzle of olive oil and a whack of fresh basil leaves.

They're hard to find in Canada - the Sclafani brand that is - so I slipped over to Seattle last weekend and picked up a can at De Laurentis. Renowned for their - how you say - pricing, I sucked it up and paid $6.25 for a 28 oz can, along with a bag of less expensive Ziti pasta.

But really, it's worth every penny.

You just don't see ziti pasta available much. Especially in a long tube shape. Looking through my cookbooks, there was not one reference to ziti. Not even Marcela Hazan. How many cookbooks does one have to own?

So I applied the phrase "be the noodle", something I recently picked up from a local pasta maker (more on that later). And me as the ziti noodle said meat sauce.

I threw together a series of meatballs mixed with toasted fennel seeds, garlic and crushed red hot chilies.
The tomato sauce is a no brainer. Saute some minced carrots and onions first if you like, but it's not necessary. Add the hand-squished tomatoes to the saucepan, bring to a boil and let simmer for about an hour. Check for seasoning. I find the San Marzanos appreciate a bit of salt and a drizzle of olive oil. Mash any larger tomato pieces with a potato masher, or for a finer texture, whizz the sauce around with a hand blender.

I baked my meatballs at 350 degrees. I don't think they need to be fried. Often I will poach them in tomato sauce, it cuts down on those extra unneeded calories.

The ziti can be cooked in their long shape if you were making a casserole - and I'll try that in the future - but for this dish, I snapped them into easier-to-handle pieces, cooked in boiling salted water and tossed all together for dinner. Top with cheese, of course.

Mangia!

Project Tongue

There's a first time for everything and it was time to cook tongue.

Like any first timer I turned to books and acquaintances for guidance. "My mother always made tongue," is the common remark from those around me, but doesn't really go beyond that. Cooking instructions for fresh beef tongue vary from book to book; some advise soaking for an hour, others scrubbing vigorously, and still others suggest just a plain rinse, or a more complex brining before cooking. 

Most all concur that peeling of the tongue happens after braising or boiling, except an old issue of Larousse Gastronomique which advised peeling and rinsing before cooking!

Thus my plan of attack became a bit of an improvisation. 

Rinse in cold water, put the tongue in a deep pot - a stock pot works well - add leeks, garlic, carrots, thyme, salt, peppercorns and bay leaves. Add enough water to cover at least 3 inches above the tongue.

Bring to the boil and simmer for 3 hours. This gives you time to plot out how you're going to serve it. Tongue can be served hot or cold as a salad or sandwich or taco filling,  and seems to enjoy a myriad of sauces from a remoulade or madeira sauce to a la Veracruzana. 

Test the doneness with a long narrow knife, just like you would a baked potato. There should be no resistance.

Some books advise letting the tongue cool in its stock while others suggest quick removal and peeling of the tough (white-coloured) layer. I opted for the latter. I removed the fat but that's not really necessary, I don't think.

Slice as thinly as possible.
I decided to serve it slightly warm with a warm potato salad - potatoes were cooked in some of the tongue stock -  beets tossed with lemon juice and olive oil, and a horseradish-caper remoulade. The tongue was tender and rich with a silky texture.
It's considered offal, but I think it's divine.

Garlic Chicken

It's time to get back into the kitchen. 

This simple preparation for chicken legs and thighs is something you can throw together last minute or even with some notice to let the flavours - or rather flavour - settle in. 

Garlic is the flavour I speak of and it's used here with abandon. You can experiment with how little or how much you like. For six legs with thigh - separated - I used 12 garlic cloves smashed with salt - the salt breaks down the garlic easier - in a molcajete or mortar and pestle, or minced with your favourite knife. You can use a food processor if you're really that lazy but I heartily recommend getting your hands dirty - and smelly.

Remove the skin from the chicken pieces and slather - with gusto and with your hands - the garlic paste all over the chicken. Add lots of cracked pepper, a bit more salt and a drizzle of olive oil. 

Let the games begin.

Cover and leave them to their own devices in the refrigerator until ready to bake. 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees or higher and bake the chicken until the juices run clear and/or you have the desired caramelization of the garlic. They're some of the best little bits know to man - and woman.

Serve with other foods like roast potatoes and vegetables, or all by its lonesome delicious self. 

Easy.