Batter-Splattered

Angel Hair Pasta with Shrimp Scampi

I had to try this recipe, having seen it several times amongst Epicurious' most popular and most commented upon recipes. I wasn't disappointed. I mostly stuck with the recipe but I added parmesan and a little lemon juice. Used basil instead of parsley. It's quick and easy. Buttery and garlicky with a bit of a spicy kick. Olive oil ... white wine... shrimp ... angel hair pasta ... top it off with some fresh herbs and some parmesan. Serve it with a green salad and a glass of white wine. I wish I had a bowl of it right now but we polished it off in one sitting.

If you wanted to be really decadent, you could add a little heavy cream to the sauce.

Angel Hair Pasta with Shrimp Scampi

Serves 4

1/4 c olive oil

1 lb peeled and deveined large shrimp, raw

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1/2 t dried red pepper flakes

1/2 c dry white wine

1/2 t salt

1/2 t pepper

4 T unsalted butter

1/2 lb angel hair pasta

1/2 c chopped fresh basil or parsley

Grated parmesan cheese

A squeeze of fresh lemon juice is good too

Preparation:

Bring a pot of salted water to boil.

Heat oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat then saute shrimp until just cooked through, 2 -3 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl, leaving behind olive oil. Lower heat just a little and add garlic, pepper flakes, wine, salt and pepper to skillet and cook stirring occasionally for 1 minute. Remove from heat and stir in shrimp.

When pasta is ready to drain, reserve a cup or so of the boiling water. Drain pasta in a colander. Toss pasta well with shrimp sauce and parsley. Add some of the reserved water if necessary to keep moist. At this point I would recommend stepping away and letting this dish sit for at least 10 minutes to allow the sauce to really soak into the pasta. I had a bowl right away and it wasn't nearly as good as the pasta I twirled around my fork and ate straight from the pot after I put my bowl in the sink.

Crab Cakes and Sweet-and-Sour Cucumbers

That's some late summer, late August, late evening (late, late, late) sunlight filtering through the trees, striping shadows across blades of thick green grass. I just love this time of year. I think it's because I can feel fall and winter nipping at my heels and I know I better look around me and soak up all the summery goodness and greenness before it all turns to red and gold, and then -- gasp! -- to white.

I live less than a mile from the state fairgrounds and the fair is currently in full swing (a harbinger of autumn around these parts if ever there was one) and as I took the grassy photo above, I was smiling at the faint yet sharp sounds of people on carnival rides screaming their hearts out, race cars gunning their engines, an exuberant announcer barking into a microphone...

Here's some more of that lovely light shining into my sloppy kitchen:

It's a kitchen I'll have to be cooking in for a while longer. The house we made an offer on two months ago and thought we would be moving into in two days? The deal is kaput. I called the whole thing off and I'm starting my search afresh. What a disappointing experience. Suffice it to say, I will no longer enter into any deals in which I attempt to purchase big-ticket items from young 20-something men. I've been burned twice now, once on a car near-purchase and now on this house near-purchase. The boys just do not have their shit together.

Tonight as I crossed my threshhold after work I decided I needed a great big dose of late-summer deliciousness. And that got me to thinking about a recent Saturday when I drove under a mountain and through the tunnel (the longest car/train/tourbus/pickup-pulling-a-boat tunnel in North America -- you drive right on the train tracks!) to Whittier for the first time ever. I've lived here for years but never bothered going to Whitter because everyone's always going on and on about what a dump it is. Wind-battered, isolated, desolate ex-military buildings...

Why even bother going , I always thought to myself. Why spend the money on tunnel fare? But a bunch of gals were headed that way to hike a short trail that ends with a perch overlooking a glacier and I thought, well maybe. Then someone mentioned the trail was lined with salmonberry bushes and that clinched it for me. I was off to Whittier.

On the hike, two out-of-towners scampered all over the misty, berry- and moss-carpeted hillsides exclaiming over and over again about how it was all "just like the Lord of the Rings!" and "Frodo would live right there!" Why go all the way to New Zealand? Just come to Whittier! Alas, I forgot my camera and so I have no photos to share.

Maybe it was because I had low expectations but I really loved Whittier, nestled between mountains and Prince WIlliam Sound. Everyone was there for fun, either hopping on or off a cruise ship or taking their own boat out to do some fishing. A party atmosphere, I tell you.

After a good hike -- with nary a salmonberry found, all those bushes were picked clean -- we wandered down into town to look for fish and chips. The little nook of a cafe we ended up at didn't have fish and chips but they did just about everything else. I had some splendidly good crab cakes made with Bering Sea king crab while sitting at a table on the cafe's waterside deck with Prince William Sound stretched out before me, fishermen a few feet away casting, casting, casting and catching, catching, catching silver salmon.

Rambunctious locals took over a nearby pavilion. While standing in line at the cafe counter, a tourist guy pointed towards the pavilion and asked me, "What's that going on over there, do you know?" I could tell he was thinking it was some sort of city-sponsored party that anyone could join.

"Looks like locals getting drunk and lighting big fires," I told him.

He gave me a disbelieving look and turned away. Well. You asked.

But then he asked the proprietor of the cafe the same question. The proprietor glanced outside, winced, and said, "Drunk locals."

I told you so.

The crabcakes were very small and very expensive (about $5 per small cake) and very good. They left me hungering for more. That's what led me to this recipe, Louisiana Deviled Crab Cakes.

I had high hopes that these would be just as good -- dare I say better? -- than the ones I had in Whittier.

And?

I was not disappointed.

Aren't those some pretty crabcakes?? They're crispy on the outside. Soft and tender on the inside with crab, panko crumbs, onion, green pepper, celery and green onions along with a whole lot of cayenne pepper. For dipping, I whipped up a small bowl of my favorite tartar sauce.

Next time I'm going to try making them with salmon instead of crab.

As a side I made some equally good sweet and sour cucumbers with fresh dill. From the sound of the ingredients, I was pretty sure they were going to be tasty but, oh my! Did they ever exceed my expectations. The flavor on them is just amazing. And if I haven't convinced you that you need to make some of these, just go on over to epicurious and read the reviews left by other people who have made them.

I cooked up four crabcakes and as I type, I've already eaten my two. My husband is working late tonight. I gotta tell you, it's all I can do to keep myself in this chair. What I really want to do is run upstairs and scarf down his share, then hide any trace of tasty crabcakes having been cooked tonight, and tuck the cucumbers into the fridge in a spot he's bound not to look -- behind the box of salad greens oughta do the trick. It would serve him right for avoiding leafy greens.

But I can share. Really I can. And I can learn from my mistakes: next time I'm going to double both recipes.

And I wonder: is tomorrow too soon for 'next time'?

Here's my version of the recipe for crab cakes. And farther down is the cucumbers recipe and my recipe for tartar sauce.

Louisiana Deviled Crab Cakes

Makes four crabcakes for two light main course servings

1/4 c finely chopped onion

1/4 c finely chopped green bell pepper

3 T finely chopped celery

3 T unsalted butter

1 large egg

1 T sour cream or mayo

1/2 t dry mustard

1/2 t worcestshire sauce

1/4 - 1/2 t cayenne, depending on how spicy you like things

1/2 t salt

3 T thinly sliced green onions

2/3 c panko bread crumbs

1/2 lb lump crabmeat, picked over

1 T vegetable oil

Garnish with tartar sauce and lemon wedges

Cook onion, bell pepper, and celery in 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until vegetable are soft, about 8 minutes.

In a large bowl, whisk together egg, sour cream, mustard, worcestshire, cayenne, and salt then stir in green onions, cooked vegetables, and 1/4 cup of panko crumbs. Gently stir in crabmeat, then form misture into 4 patties. Dredge cakes in panko crumbs. Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes so that cakes will hold together while cooking.

Heat oil and remaining 2 tablespoons of butter in the same skillet over medium heat until foam subsides. Press cakes in additional panko crumbs if desired. Cook for 8 minutes total, turning once, until golden brown.

Sweet and Sour Cucumbers with Fresh Dill

4 servings

1 English cucumber, unpeeled, thinly sliced

1 t coarse kosher salt

1/4 cup distilled white vinegar

2 T finely chopped fresh dill

1 1/2 T sugar

1/2 pepper

Place cucumber slices in a colander and sprinkle with salt. Toss to coat and let stand for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, prepare dressing: in a large bowl, stir together vinegar, dill, sugar, and pepper until sugar dissolves.

Drain cucumbers well by pressing between paper towels. Add cucumbers to dressing and stir to blend. Refrigerate at least 15 minutes and up to two hours. Serve cold. These are nice and crisp the first few hours after you make them. After that they soften a bit and become more like bread and butter pickles. I can't decide which way I like them better: crisp or soft.

Tartar Sauce

1/2 c mayonnaise or miracle whip

1 T sweet relish or chopped sweet pickle

1 t minced onion

1 T minced fresh dill

1 t minced fresh parsley

1 t cider vinegar

1/2 t sugar

A dash or two of Tobasco

In a small bowl, combine all ingredients and stir until smooth.

White Chocolate Bread Pudding with White Chocolate Sauce

This bread pudding made an appearance on my table the other night, following up the braised pheasant and wild rice and cabbage dish I was so very fond of. Ordinarily, I would lump all the recipes together into one post, but this pudding was so good I couldn't just tack it onto the end of the post about the pheasant. This pudding needed its own moment in the spotlight.

The simplicity of the ingredients -- French bread, eggs, cream, sugar and white chocolate -- belies the unbelievably rich taste of the results. Epicurious got the recipe from the Palace Cafe in New Orleans so I was sure it was going to be delicious. I was not disappointed. By the way, check out the Palace Cafe's website -- they have a Temperature Lunch! If the temperature the day before was 95 degrees, the lunch special of turtle soup, werlein salad (romaine, garlic anchovy dressing, pecorino romano, and croutons), or soup du jour is $9.50. Kind of reminds me of the cafe across the street from my office except for in reverse -- on the first day of heavy snowfall here each winter, coffee is free. I like the idea of the cost of your eats and drinks being determined by the wayward weather.

My loaf of French bread, cubed:

I halved the original recipe for six, and even when it's cut in half this made way more than two people could eat in one sitting which means you can stretch it for two nights for two people or you can make it for a party of four. And it's just as good the next day (and the next!) warmed up in the microwave.

White Chocolate Bread Pudding with White Chocolate Sauce

Serves 4

4 oz. French bread, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 3/4 c whipping cream

1/2 c milk

1/4 c sugar

9  oz good-quality white chocolate (the original recipe recommends using Lindt or Baker's, I used Ghirardelli)

3 egg yolks

1 large egg

Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Arrange bread cubes on a baking sheet and bake until golden and dry. Transfer baking sheet to rack and cool completely. Increase oven temperature to 350 degrees.

Combine 1 1/2 cups whipping cream and the milk and sugar in a heavy large saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat. Add 5 ounces or so of white chocolate and stir until melted and smooth. Whisk yolks and egg in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk in warm chocolate mixture.

Place bread cubes in 1-quart glass baking dish. Pour in half of the chocolate mixture. Press bread cubes into chocolate mixture as bread soaks up chocolate sauce. Let stand for 15 minutes. Gently mix in remaining chocolate sauce. Cover dish with foil.

Bake pudding 40 - 45 minutes. Uncover and bake until top is golden brown, about 15 minutes more. Transfer pudding to rack and cool slightly. Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover with foil and refrigerate. Rewarm covered pudding in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes, if you're patient. Or you can do as I did and rewarm individual bowls of it fast in the microwave. It's probably crispier if you use the oven.

Bring remaining cream to a simmer in a heavy medium saucepan. Remove from heat. Add remaining white chocolate and stir until melted smooth.

Serve warm with white chocolate sauce.

If you have leftovers, pour remaining sauce over pudding and refrigerate covered.

Braised Pheasant with Red Cabbage Wild Rice

So.

I hesitate to post this recipe and its accompanying story for fear of offending any vegetarians / bunny-huggers that may be lurking in my readership. Believe you me -- ordinarily, I would salute you and your bleeding heart. I'd be nodding in the face of your liberal tendencies. Worship that dirt. Here, gimme a handful -- I do a little worshipping of my own. Tell it, sista'. But I just can't help it.

This dish is just so good. I can't keep quiet about it.

I licked my plate.

It all started this week when, in a departure for them, my parents decided to go all carnivorous and NRA on me and they signed up for a bird hunting class. Sunshine. Fresh air. Dogs. Pheasants. Chukars. Guns. Coffee swilled from Thermos cap cups. Chukar goulash cooked over an open fire. Etc, etc. It all resulted in my parents turning up on my doorstep bearing ziploc bags full of delicate little breasts and thighs and wings of chukars and pheasants.

What to do, what to do.

Alot of the pheasant recipes I reviewed before settling on this one called for fresh juniper berries. That's so cool. I see them all the time when I'm out and about hiking the trails, but I didn't have any and didn't really feel like tromping around the hillsides looking for some. But then I found this recipe on epicurious, Braised Pheasant with Red Cabbage Wild Rice, and it has an easy juniper berry compromise -- it calls for gin, which alcohol aficionados will tell you is a spirit flavored with juniper berries. Genius!

I think the fact that the recipe calls for red cabbage is a real stroke of luck considering the noggin-shaped head of red cabbage I bought a couple of days ago to make my vegetable face. Now there's a sentence I never anticipated myself typing.

Here's Mr. Cabbage Head now, sliced and sauting in a skillet:

Such a beautiful color.

If you have a mind to tackle this recipe, don't worry: you don't have to arm your parents with rifles and send them out into the field with a yellow labrador retriever. I think cornish game hens would work just as well. That's what I'm going to use the next time I get a hankering for this dish. And I have a feeling I'll be making it again because the husband licked his plate too and then scrunched his eyes and forehead up at me and said, "OH... my compliments to the chef... OH..."

What I like about it is the richness and complexity. The crunch of cabbage and saltiness of bacon in the cabbage / wild rice. The delicious sauce poured over the pheasant -- both sweet and peppery. It's just so good.

Heart-shaped breasts a-cookin' up in my pot:

If you're an over-achiever (unlike me) and would like to make your own pheasant stock, consult the original recipe on epicurious linked to above. Or you can be a corner-cutter (like me) and try my version made with chicken broth:

Braised Pheasant with Red Cabbage Wild Rice

Serves four

For wild rice:

1 c wild rice

2 c chicken broth

2 T olive oil

8 slices bacon (I used bacon with pepper pressed into the sides -- excellent)

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

4 c red cabbage, thinly sliced

4 t red wine vinegar

For pheasant:

4 lbs of pheasant

1/2 t salt

1/2 t pepper

1/2 t ground allspice

3 T olive oil

2/3 c dried currants or golden raisins

1/2 c minced shallots

1/2 c gin

1 c dry white wine

2 t tomato paste

2 3-inch sprigs rosemary plus 1 t minced leaves

1 c red and/or green seedless grapes, halved if you feel like it

Make wild rice:

Rinse wild rice and drain. Bring broth to a simmer in a small saucepan. In a small oven-proof casserole dish, saute rice in oil over medium-high heat, stirring, for 1 minute. Stir in hot broth and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil and bake, covered, in middle of oven for 1 hour, or until liquid is absorbed and rice is tender. Check on it often to avoid over-cooking -- mine only took about half an hour to cook.

While the rice is cooking, in a big skillet, cook bacon over medium heat until crisp. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Pour half of the bacon drippings into a small bowl to use later for cooking pheasant.

Heat drippings remaining in skillet over medium-high heat and saute onion and cabbage until softened, stirring often. Add vinegar and salt and pepper to taste and saute, stirring for 1 minute. Chop bacon. Set the onions and cabbage and the chopped bacon aside for now.

Make pheasant:

In a small bowl, stir together salt, pepper and allspice. Pat pheasant dry and sprinkle with allspince mixture. In a dutch oven, heat oil and reserved drippings over medium-high heat and saute pheasant until golden about 5 minutes per side. Transfer pheasant to a plate.

In the drippings remaining in the pot, cook dried cranberries and shallots over medium-high heat, stirring, until shallots soften. Stir in gin and boil until most is evaporated. Stir in wine and boil until reduced by about half. Stir in broth, tomato paste, rosemary sprig, and salt and pepper to taste. Bring sauce to a boil.

Add pheasant to sauce, cover with a tight lid, and braise in the middle of a 350 degree oven until pheasant is cooked through, for 10 minutes or so or until cooked through. Remove smaller pieces early if necessary to avoid overcooking while finishing cooking the larger pieces -- mine all got done around the same time. Transfer pheasants to a plate and keep warm and covered.

Stir minced rosemary and grapes into sauce and boil until slightly thickened, about 1 minute.

Reheat skillet full of red cabbage, stir in wild rice, and chopped bacon.

Serve it up.

Black Bean and Tomato Quinoa

This quinoa salad is so fresh and healthy, packed with veggies and protein. And the flavor improves over time making it perfect for office lunches. The ingredients positively scream summertime to me -- lime zest and juice, diced tomatoes, green onions, and cilantro. After all that zesting and reaming and slicing and dicing, your hands end up smelling heavenly.

The best part is I get it all to myself! My husband wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole because he's tomato-averse.

My version of the original recipe:

Black Bean and Tomato Quinoa Salad

2 t grated lime zest

2 T fresh lime juice

2 T unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1 T olive oil

1 t sugar

1 c quinoa

3 cups or so chicken broth (you can use water two but I thought the broth added flavor)

1 (14 - 15 oz) can black beans, drained and rinsed

2 medium tomatoes, diced

4 green onions, chopped

1/4 c chopped fresh cilantro

Whisk together lime zest and juice, butter, oil, sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper in a large bowl.

Rinse quinoa thoroughly in a sieve with very fine mesh. Bring broth to a boil in a medium pot (if using water, add salt) then add quinoa. Cook for about 10 minutes, uncovered, until almost tender. Drain by pouring broth and quinoa into a seive resting on a large bowl so that broth is reserved. Return one inch of broth to same pan and bring to a simmer. Set seive full of quinoa in pot (broth should not touch bottom of seive). Cover quinoa with a folded kitchen towel, then cover with a lid -- it doesn't have to fit tightly. Steam over medium heat until tender, fluffy and dry, about ten minutes. Remove pot from heat and remove lid. Let stand, still covered with towel for 5 minutes.

Add quinoa to lime dressing and toss until dressing is absorbed, then stir in remaining ingredients and salt and pepper to taste. 

Eat Your Vegetables

I just discovered the blog entitled The Great Big Vegetable Challenge, all about a mother's noble endeavor to convince her 7-year old veggie-phobic son Freddie to eat his leafy greens. Her challenge to other bloggers? To create a face made of vegetables. Check here for the enchanting slide show of veggie faces created by people around the world -- London, Suffolk, New York, Missouri, D.C., California, Chicago, Scotland... I can't exactly put my finger on why, but the thought of so many people stopping to make silly vegetable art, it renews my faith in humanity.

And it added a whole new dimension to my Sunday morning trip to the market. I wandered the produce aisles intently, not in search of the freshest fruits and vegetables like usual, oh no. I circled around and around and around looking for the best noggin-shaped vegetable I could find. When the produce guy noticed me circling like a shark and he asked me if there was anything he could help me with, I almost told him, but then decided, no, he might not understand.

I really wanted one of those big Alaska Grown gourds or squashes we grow in abundance here but I couldn't find a single one so I settled on a head of locally grown red cabbage and here he is...

Carrots ends for eyes, a zucchini smile, sprouts for hair and a nose made of a pod of peas from my neighbor's garden.

Can't decide which photo I like better. I think this one shows his nose better:

Thanks Charlotte and Freddie for providing me with a bit of unexpected frivolity this sunny Sunday morning!