Cooking is FUN!

Anyone who thinks cooking is dull, boring, tedious, yucky, whatever...I've got news for you!  You obviously have not been to one of the cooking classes at Urban Kitchen on Cherry Street.  I know I'm probably somewhat prejudiced but just to prove to you that cooking can be fun and therapeutic; here's a video from a recent Spring Dishes class. 

Now, be honest. Don't you wish you had been a part of that class? And don't you love that double handed technique? 

Part of cooking is being inventive. In the cooking biz, that's known as "McGyver-ing". Remember, that old TV show with...what's his name? Well. McGyver.  Anyway, McGyver was always put in a situation where he had to use something for a purpose other than the one for which it was intended.  In this class, we needed to pound boneless chicken breasts (obviously into submission) and there was only one mallet for the class to use.  So, instead of sharing one mallet, we had a group exercise with the small heavy saucepans.  Saucepans became mallets.  We turned boring into fun!  See how easy it can be?

Another cookbook excerpt

On Thanksgiving morning, we would wake to the smells of turkey roasting, pies and breads baking and the sounds of clattering dishes, pots and pans.
Even after my mother began working full-time (outside the home), every Thanksgiving was an event.  It was a time to show your love for your family, to bring them together and to cherish them.  However, with the stress associated with this meal…you’d never know that!  “Thanksgiving is the hardest meal to get on the table”, she said.  And, we all believed that because, though absolutely delicious, it was a truly painful exercise.

My mother would wake at 4am to put the giant turkey in the oven.  It had been thawing in the refrigerator for days and it would then take hours to roast.  She had made three or four pans of cornbread and the multiple loaves of Wonder bread had been torn apart and strewn around the kitchen and utility room to dry for the cornbread dressing; it couldn’t be finished until after the turkey came out of the oven.  You see, we did not stuff the turkey, not because it was a source for food poisoning but because it would be soggy.  Therefore, we had baked dressing that depended on the quality of the turkey and its broth.   If the turkey broth wasn’t good, then the dressing wouldn’t be good.   Anathema!  And, don’t even talk about the gravy if the broth isn’t up to par, and bad gravy?  Another horror.  Potatoes?  Well, you could peel and dice them and leave them in cold water but couldn’t finish them until right before dinner.  Pies couldn’t be baked until Thanksgiving Day; they would be “old”.  Even the cranberry sauce was made from scratch, poured into gelatin molds, covered and left to sit in the cold garage.  You can’t put it in the refrigerator; it will weep and not set up properly.





Yes, my mother was a perfectionist.  If it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worth doing.  That character trait extended into all parts of her life, the kitchen included; it was her domain, make no mistake about that.  Children were not allowed in my mother’s kitchen; they were messy and required supervision.  The kitchen was her playing field and she would not, could not allow anyone to distract her from her mission.  And, her mission on Thanksgiving was to produce a perfect bird with all of the trimmings on the table with everything piping hot and amazingly delicious.  And, no one better get in her way.  Her intensity was palpable as she orchestrated the meal and its components.  The term “well-oiled machine” comes to mind.   The Thanksgiving groaning board had a rhythm and predictability about it.  There was the turkey, of course, all 22 pounds, always golden brown and never ever dry, the traditional cornbread dressing, steamy and toasty brown with flecks of celery and onion and the heady aroma of rubbed sage, velvety and buttery mashed potatoes, savory and earthy giblet gravy not to mention the unending variety of vegetables.  And, it all had to be there at once, nothing could lag behind.  Hence, the incantation –  “Thanksgiving is the hardest meal to get on the table!”

But the interesting thing about my mother and her need for a perfect dinner table was that it was also an expression of how much she loved you.  It was supremely important for her to know what her husband, children and extended family enjoyed eating so that she could prepare it with great care and love. Having grown up on a farm, she completely respected the food and her love for her family was an extension of that respect.  Food lovingly prepared for the people in her life.

Gourmet Everyday

In case you missed it, I revived my television persona on Monday morning's Fox 23 Morning News Show with a fun little dish using Cornish Game Hens. 

These birds are actually really small chickens and are easy to cook and even easier to eat!  Inexpensive (under $7 for a package of two) but seem special because we love things that are small and cute.  You can make this dish with a regular chicken or chicken parts but you need to adjust your oven time up for a total cooking time of an hour and a half.  Be sure to check the internal temperature with an instant-read thermometer.  It needs to read 160 degrees F in the breast or large part of the thigh.  If the juices run clear when you pierce the skin, you should be good to go.  So here's the recipe and the video from the  news program.

The Girl Can Cook on Fox 23 Daybreak

Bonne Maman (also known as a la Bonne Femme) is an obviously French term meaning "good mother" or "good woman" that refers to a simple dish that includes potatoes, onions, and mushrooms and is typically finished with white wine.  It is a complete meal so you don't really need to add anything.  Although a green salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a nice crusty bread would be a good accompaniment.  If you're needing to be particularly frugal or you are feeding people with small appetites, you can split the birds in half and give each diner half a bird instead of a whole one.


Roast Cornish Game Hens Bonne Maman
Serves 2

2 Cornish game hens
1 lemon, quartered
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
2 medium onions, quartered
1 lb baby potatoes
1 lb mushrooms, quartered
1/3 cup white wine
1/3 cup chicken broth
Kosher salt
Ground black pepper
Grapeseed or canola oil

Preheat oven to 450°.

Rub hens with 1 tablespoon of oil.   Season hens inside and out with salt and pepper. Place 2 lemon wedges and 1 sprig of rosemary in the cavity of each hen. Arrange in a large, heavy roasting pan.  Scatter in potatoes and onions around the hens.  Roast for 25 minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 350 °.  In a mixing bowl, whisk together wine, and chicken broth.  Add mushrooms to the roasting pan and pour wine mixture over and around hens and vegetables. Continue roasting about 25 minutes longer, or until hens are golden brown and juices run clear. Baste with pan juices every 10 minutes.

Transfer hens and vegetables to a platter, pouring any cavity juices back into the roasting pan.  Pour pan juices into a medium saucepan and boil until liquids reduce to a sauce consistency, about 10 minutes.  Cut hens in half lengthwise and arrange on plates.  Spoon sauce and vegetables around hens and serve.

The Beginnings of "The Cookbook"

Yes, you read the post correctly..."The Cookbook".  I am working my way through my mother's, grandmother's and aunt's recipes.  They are an expression of a time when the wind really did come sweeping down the plain and when we were considerably more rustic than we are now...of course, except for The Pioneer Woman who seems trapped in a time warp...sorry, couldn't help myself.  So...these lovely old recipes will be getting an update.  My plan is to provide the original recipe (in case, you would like to try your hand) and then my "urbanized" version of it.  This cookbook is also a tribute to my mom and all of the wonderful things she did, including, the quirky stuff, which actually made her who she was.  You'll be getting lots of recipes but also lots of memories.  Here's a sneak peek...hope you enjoy it!   

There was a time when I would say, “everything I know about cooking, I learned from my mom”.  Now, I say, “my mom gave me the foundation but what I did with it is my own”. 
My mom was an amazing cook but she was no teacher.  She had no interest in teaching you how to do much of anything really.  It was easier (and better) if she did it herself plus she didn’t have the patience for you to learn from your mistakes.  “Just let me do it.”  So, I would characterize my culinary education as “osmotic”.  I would watch and, with any luck, the knowledge, skill, talent or gift would simply waft its way over in the fragrance of roast turkey, banana cream pie or pot roast to me and I would grab it and file it in that part of my brain devoted to learning the tricks of my mother’s cooking. 
Case in point…gravy making.  My mom had two gravy making methods.  Gravy made in the pan from drippings where she added flour and milk or broth and gravy made from combining flour and water in a Mason jar and shaking it to combine then pouring it into a beef broth (this was the accepted method for pot roast, the other for fried chicken, chicken fried steak, etc.).  So, I watched my mom make gravy.  I asked so many questions about how to do it she would finally become so annoyed that she would say, “just watch and be quiet and you’ll figure it out.”  Well, crap.  She couldn’t or wouldn’t explain how much flour to use or how much fat to leave in the skillet or how much milk to pour in and when and what temperature it needed to be.  That was because she had made “cream gravy” so many times that she just did it.  There was no measuring.  She just knew.  And, I wanted to just know, too.  But, that sacred knowledge is only acquired after years of making gravy (and lots of other things) and she wasn’t going to make it easy for me…I had to learn myself.  That osmosis thing. 
I started studying cookbooks.  Not just reading for recipes but actually, pulling the methods apart and figuring them out.  And, one day, as I was considering my mother’s cream gravy and her “white sauce”, I happened upon “Mother sauces” and, one in particular, leapt off the page at me.  Béchamel.   A classic cream sauce made with a roux and milk.  Wait a minute.  Roux.  Fat and flour.  Thickening. Milk.  White sauce and yes! Cream gravy.  Hallelujah!  The Heaven’s opened and the angels sang…it’s a béchamel , you idiot!  Your mother has been making béchamel all these years and you just figured it out!  I couldn’t wait to share my newfound knowledge.  I discovered it…the Holy Grail!  Mom!  I’m so excited.  You know your cream gravy and white sauce…it’s actually a béchamel, the flour and the fat…that’s a roux and then you add the milk, it’s a Mother sauce, and, and, and, she said, “well, of course, I’m your mother and it’s mine.”

My Mom's Cream Gravy Recipe

Pour off part of the grease
Sprinkle flour over and cook while stirring
Add milk quickly or it will lump
Stir until thickened

Cream Gravy

1/4 cup all purpose flour
2 cups whole milk
Pan drippings (still in the pan) from frying chicken or chicken fried steak

Fry and then remove the chicken (or whatever meat) from the skillet (do not use nonstick or you will not have anything to make gravy with) and set aside.  Pour off enough fat so that you have about 1/4 cup left in the skillet.  With a metal spatula, scrape up as much of the crispy bits (of goodness) that you can.  Turn your heat under the pan to medium, sprinkle 1/4 cup of flour into the crispy bits and the fat.  The ratio of fat to flour is 1:1 so if you have 1/4 cup of fat, use 1/4 cup of flour and so on.  Stir until well blended. (You can use a whisk to keep the gravy from lumping.)  While stirring, pour in the milk.*  Cook gravy until it simmers and has thickened to the consistency that you prefer.

*Cook's note:  I have tried using warm milk and cold milk for the gravy.  There are two schools of thought...one being that if the milk is cold, your sauce will be lumpy.  I have not found that to be the case so I say, use it the temperature that you want.

The Curiosity of Cooking Classes

I am constantly amazed by the number of people who want to learn how to make pasta...often to the exclusion of anything else.
Take this week's classes as an example:  Wednesday was Vietnamese Street Food which I cleverly titled "What the Pho?" and Thursday was Ravioli.  To me, the opportunity to make a dish as thoroughly fascinating as pho and the banh mi sandwich would win hands down over ravioli.  Boy!  Was I wrong!
My poor little East meets West fusion class would have been canceled had it not been for two stalwarts and, frankly, I should have canceled it anyway (didn't have the four required) but I couldn't bring myself to deny these gals the wonders and utter simplicity yet flavor explosion of these two dishes.  Plus, I really wanted to prove that I could make an acceptable pho (I already knew I owned banh mi land).  So we had a great class and explored the ingredients and methods of Vietnamese cooking with all of its French influences.  We even snapped a quick pic of the pho yummy-ness.  Not up to Melanie Dunea quality but passable.

Now on to my quandary...what is this fascination with pasta?  The ravioli class on Thursday was packed...I even had a woman in there who just found out she had to cut out gluten...yet she was still in class!
Don't get me wrong (I know I say that a lot but I don't want to be misunderstood, of course), I love pasta!  But please, please, please...I don't want to be reduced to becoming the Pasta Teacher of Tulsa...sounds very grand, doesn't it?
I agree...it IS fun to make pasta and it IS easy but come on, people, let's branch out!  I have soup, puff pastry, pie, roasted chicken, appetizers, and grilling, grilling, grilling classes but nothing fills up like pasta.  We've made simple pasta, all kinds of ravioli and gnocchi.  We've made sauces and fillings until they're coming out of our ears but it's never enough!
Yes...I will continue to teach you how to make pasta but couldn't you throw in a little excitement here and there? 
I'm just sayin'...

A Very Piggie Dinner - Chef's Notes

Now that the heat has left us for this year and the eating season is upon us, it seemed time to bring the Chef's Table back.  Late summer and fall have traditionally been the seasons for putting up food for the winter...canning, butchering, smoking, curing...you know, a la Little House on the Prairie.  It seemed fitting that a dinner honoring that exercise in survival would be the best way to revive our monthly dinners.  To that end, Pork 'N Greens Farm has graciously partnered with Urban Kitchen to create October's (S)Wine Dinner:  A Tribute to Pork featuring the premium pastured pork of our favorite local farmer, Stephen Green.  When he's not tending to his precious piggies, you can find Stephen at most of the Farmer's Markets with a booth full of bacon (a crowd favorite), handmade sausages, pork chops and shanks and much more.
I am particularly excited about this event because it affords me the opportunity to make something besides pasta.  Don't get me wrong...I love pasta and I love to teach people how to make pasta but there comes a time to branch out and that is what my chef's table allows me to do.  So...you will find the menu with my comments listed below (it may go through a few more permutations but the players will remain the same...pork, pork and more pork!).

We will open with an amuse that harkens back to the '50's.  I love retro food especially when I can update it.  For those of you who keep up with Food Network, that is my Culinary POV (Point of View).  I take retro/country-ish food and drag it kicking and screaming into the 21st Century.  So, for your gustatory pleasure, we begin our evening with Devils on Horseback.  Little bite-size morsels wrapped in some exceedingly delicious bacon.  Over the years, the devils have been everything from chicken livers to prunes but I'm not going to ruin the surprise by telling you what I'm stuffing in there...just think yummy, dark, dried fruit.
We open the sit-down portion of our dinner with a little surf and turf...Braised Pork Belly and Pan Seared Diver Scallop.  Pork and seafood just happen to be in love with one another so who am I to stand in their way.  The creaminess of the belly braised in mustard plays off the sweet, buttery brininess of the scallop to perfection.  They'll be bedded down on wilted Swiss chard to offset the richness.
Next and this is a fun one, Sweet and Spicy Asian Meatballs with a Stir Fry of Morning Glory Greens.  Morning glory is a very common Asian ingredient.  Also known as water spinach, it is indigenous to Thailand where it grows like crazy.  The meatball portion of our program...well, suffice it to say that I love meatballs and, having just served 700 of them at Tulsa Garden Center's Wine and Roses benefit, let me say...I know from whence I speak.
We'll have a little palate cleanser of a salad at this juncture to get you ready for the really pork-y portion of our show.
Deconstructed Chile Relleno.  Yes, all the parts of a chile relleno, none of the breading or frying.  Chile braised pork shoulder will be pulled and then served over a bed of fire roasted poblano rajas (poblanos are the traditional chile relleno vessel and not the more commonly seen Anaheim) finished with Mexican crema and queso fresco.  The dish is topped with a housemade chicharron...you got it...pork rind.  A little homage to David Chang and it's awesome!
The entree, last but certainly not least, is a Pan Roasted Tuscan Pork Chop with White Bean Agrodolce.  You know I can't do a dinner without at least a little Italian!  Nice thick pork loin chop luxuriating on a bed of cannellini beans that have been treated to a sweet and savory brothy bath with bacon, sweet onions, Peppadews and tomatoes.
We, of course, can't finish this without a dessert...so bacon will not only open but close our evening.  Bacon Baklava with Housemade Maple Ice Cream.  Just like having bacon and waffles except without the waffles...
The dinner is Wednesday, October 19 at Urban Kitchen on Cherry Street (imagine that).  Starting at 6:30, you will be in pig heaven!  Click here to go to Urban Kitchen

Making Tortilla Chips