the booneburger

Last night, my husband and I drove to the grocery store with empty stomachs and an evening stretched out before us. We wandered around aimlessly, trying to pinpoint what exact dish would hit the spot, and what resulted was the single greatest burger I’ve eaten in my life.

Seriously. I ate two.

Daniel mixed the hamburger meat with bits of uncooked bacon, one egg, salt and pepper, and fixed them on the grill with utter perfection. Then we sandwiched the meat between French bread smeared with Dijon, and one salty slice of Swiss cheese -- a true European amalgam.

But the true revelation came on a whim, with a pile of burgundy onion strings that added juiciness and richness and flavor in a way I never could have predicted. I’ve always wanted to try simmering onions in wine… tres simple, tres elegant… you simply MUST try them for yourself!

Burgundy Onions

Two yellow onions
1/2 cup of Merlot

Halve the onions and very thinly slice them into moon shapes. Cook the onions in olive oil over medium heat for 15 minutes. Slowly add the wine, turn down the heat, and let the onions simmer for another 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

susan's squash

I made good use of the shockingly sunny produce my mom passed along from my second cousin’s summer garden -- a whole mess of crookneck squash! I fixed them my favorite way, and it’s so simple you could go pick some and have them on a plate in 15 minutes flat.

(It’s a short post for a short recipe. Hope you don’t mind.)

Perfect Squash

Several yellow squash, firm and bright
A shallot
Olive oil
S&P

Thinly slice the shallot and squash. Warm olive oil in a pan, add the veggies and S&P, and sauté for a good 10-12 minutes. Wait till that dark brown crust just touches the edges of the squash… you won’t regret it.

led by our stomachs, part 1

At yesterday’s twilight, we rolled into our driveway, bellies full and legs stiff from an ambitious road trip across our great state (former a republic, lest we forget) centered almost exclusively around food. Where most people would spend time deciding on recreational activities, nice hotels, and cultural fripperies, we spent hours finding quirky restaurants in strange towns. I mean, why else would ANYONE intentionally drive to Amarillo, the un-deodorized armpit of Texas?!

Our first stop was not far away, the Chef Point Café in Watauga, just northeast of Fort Worth. Guy Fieri of “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” had done a piece on this eatery that says it’s a “five-star restaurant in a gas station,” but we found it a bit underwhelming on the quality side. Certainly charming and full of local yokels, the café sports fold-up tables and paper napkins with escargot and scallops on the menu.



I tried the stuffed blackened pork chop, which was actually TOO stuffed with crab, though it swam in a delectable asiago cream sauce. I’d go again, but I’d stick to a cheaper entrée, like the chicken scampi, which was less ambitious and more delicious.



Next was the famed Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo, and it’s one of those wonderful places that advertises its 72-oz. steak-eating challenge every few exits for 100 miles outside the city. We had steak, predictably, rolls, potatoes and mac-and-cheese, and it was good and fun, though eating under such a wide variety of dead, stuffed animals was a tad creepy.



For breakfast the next morning, we were the first customers at Biti Pies, a bakery that specializes in itty-bitty pies. (And yes, the primary reason we had to go was my female obsession with all things miniature.) Went to a local coffeehouse to eat them and discovered the best darn chocolate meringue pie I’ve ever eaten. Though the buttermilk, pecan, and coconut cream varieties were just as perfect!


We drove down the flat, crusty expanse of the Panhandle down to the flat, dusty expanse of Odessa for lunch at Rockin’ Q Smokehouse and had pulled pork that just about melted in your mouth. The ranch beans were sweltering with jalapenos but the cole slaw cooled it right off.



On to Marfa, to see the fabulous Prada Marfa and see the alien lights dipping over the horizon (and yes, Scully, we saw them!). We were out so late our only option was a 24-hour diner near our motel in Alpine. Nothing to write home about.

I shall continue relating our culinary adventures on the morrow.

quel quiche!

So far, our spring break has been packed with eggs, milk, crust, and cheese. Yum! In a span of a scant 5 days, I have made two quiches, both entirely homemade, from the crust to the meaty fillings. And best of all, I’ve made my distinctly non-francophile husband drool and beg for quiches, to the delight of my quarter-French heart.

The fabulous thing about quiche is that not only does it taste stupendous when cooked well, but it’s also a great way to get rid of leftovers. Five days ago, after staring at the tubs of leftovers in our fridge with much consternation, my eyes clapped on a bagful of roast chicken and a bowlful of baked ham from the weekend. Voila! That took care of two of my three favorite quiches: quiche lorraine (ham and swiss) and roast chicken and gouda. (The third, my dear quiche au poireaux, was sadly neglected, as I had no leeks.)

So I’ll divulge these two oh-so-French varieties in the recipes below, but rest assured that you can toss most any vegetable, meat and cheese in a quiche and it will still taste delicious. And feel free to use the prepackaged crust — that little cheat alone makes the entire quiche-prep process a mere 5 minutes.

P.S. Please forgive the hazy amounts listed below… I really measure and cook by feeling more than number. It makes it difficult to nail down recipes.
P.P.S. I know you’re thinking, “Then why do you have a food blog in which you share recipes? Clearly you are too flighty, emotional, and scatterbrained to create trusty recipes.” To this I shall respond: “Who has the food blog? You or me? All right then.”
P.P.P.S. My skills of debate are about as mediocre as my aptitude for precision.

Basic Quiche

1 deep-dish crust
8-9 eggs
Approx. 1 1/2 cups milk (About three hearty glugs)
S&P
A baby sprinkle of nutmeg
Possible fillings: 1 cup each of chopped ham and swiss, 1 1/2 cups sliced leeks, 1/2 cup sautéed onions and 1 1/2 cup cheddar, etcetera

Whisk together the eggs, milk, and spices. Place the fillings in the crust, then pour the egg mixture over the filling. Bake at 350 until the middle is set, about 50 minutes to 1 hour.

olive oyl

I tasted tapenade for the first time in Paris, smeared on crusty bread and redolent of salt. And every time I’m in the condiment aisle at the grocery store, its blackish sheen, trapped inside a pathetically small bottle, catches my eye. Then the $7 price tag propels my feet onward.

(By the by, tapenade is this divine purée of black olives, capers, olive oil and anchovies that Europeans adore. Like olives and salt had the most delicious baby ever. Too creepy?)

Spurred by a random streak of inventiveness, and my husband’s recent obsession with gin-and-tonic-soaked olives, I bought two cans of olives -- green and black -- but couldn’t find capers or anchovies. C’est la vie. So I drained and chunked the little buggers in a food processor along with a clove of garlic and, voila! Out came a most delicious olive relish that cannot truly call itself tapenade, but makes my mouth just as happy.

It’s fabulous on a baguette, or try it on good bread with salami, ham and provolone and you’ve got a Muffaletta -- one of only two good things that came out of Louisiana. (The other being Harry Connick Jr.)

Mock Tapenade

1 cup green olives, pimiento-stuffed
1 cup black olives
2 cloves garlic

Blend all ingredients well in a food processor.

in between

The days between Christmas and New Year’s Day are a little odd, I must admit. We typically leave the lights and ornaments up until January 1, but the trees are bare of gifts and the stockings hang dull and empty. Gorging on leftovers is a given, but the guilt is steadily beginning to creep up. And it’s definitely still a few days too early to start the annual diet.

My outrageous love of holiday cooking has also begun to wane, as steadily as the bag of peppermint bark in the fridge depletes. I want simple, warm food, easily whipped up in a matter of minutes but still loaded with enough cheese to keep me in vacation mode. So I’ll share one of my favorite recipes, plus an easy, interesting way to cook pasta that lifts the lowly egg noodle to true gourmet status.

If you don’t have leeks and Swiss on hand, feel free to switch ‘em out for sautéed onions, zucchini or squash and cheddar or gouda.

Absorption Pasta with Leeks and Swiss

1 pound pasta (rotini and farfalle work best)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic
1 leek, thinly sliced
As much chopped-up cheese as you can stand
S&P

Heat the olive oil in a large, shallow saucepan and sauté the garlic for 2 minutes. Add the pasta, stirring to coat the noodles in oil and sautéing for another 2 minutes. Pour enough water in the pan to just cover the noodles and bring to a boil. Boil for 8 minutes or until pasta is tender.

Meanwhile, sauté leeks (or other veggie) in a bit of olive oil until tender. When the pasta is done, strain and toss with sautéed veggies and cheese. Douse with salt and pepper and… you know… gorge!

family secret #1

First, the best cornbread dressin’ you've ever had, with faux-giblet gravy, straight from my Nanny’s mouth.

Dressin’:

3 cups white corn meal
3/4 cup tablespoons flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
4 cups buttermilk

1 1/2 cups celery

1 1/2 cups onion

4 chicken breasts

8 boiled eggs

Stir together first five ingredients. Cut up about 1-1/2 cups of celery and 1-1 1/2 cups of onion. Add to the cornbread mixture. (from Nanny, “This is my idea---I do not know anyone that cooks their celery and onion in the cornbread for dressing but it is fully cooked this way.”) Heat an iron skillet on top of stove with a little oil -- sprinkle a small amount of cornmeal in skillet, pour in cornbread mixture and cook in oven about 20 minutes at 400 degrees. Turn bread out of pan and let cool. Can be cooked the day before.

Crumble cornbread.....add 3-4 crumbled bread heels OR slices as well. Cook chicken in water to make broth, remove the chicken, then pour in just enough broth to moisten the cornbread mixture. Add 3 torn-up chicken breasts to the cornbread mix. Cut up and add eggs.

**NEVER pack dressing into pan to cook, and don’t stir too much!

"Giblet" Gravy

Use the rest of the chicken broth for the gravy. Don’t use giblets -- instead use the remaining chicken breast. Also, use broth from a box to have enough. In a saucepan over medium-high heat, stir the broth with 2-3 chopped, boiled eggs and the torn-up chicken breast. Get broth to boiling. Meanwhile, put 2-3 tablespoons of flour in a glass, and add hot or warm water to make a thin paste. As the broth boils, add the flour mixture to thicken it. Season with salt and pepper, heat thoroughly, and the “giblet” gravy is done!

luscious leeks

If leeks cost a nickel per bunch, I swear I’d add them to every salty dish I make. That subtly piquant taste, the delicate bite of an onion, the rich freshness they retain even when cooked… I just love those dadgum things. And they even look lovely, reclining among the cabbage and radishes at the supermarket in long, lean, lime-green stalks, as if to say, “Yes, we are the supermodels of vegetables.”

And yet, Tom Thumb has squashed my leek-a-day dream by charging three bucks for a pair. So outraged have I been by that price, I have not purchased leeks in months. But when Mom called and said they were coming to our neck of the woods for lunch and a movie, my resolve crumbled.

One of the stalks is waiting patiently in the fridge like the jewel that it is, but the other was chopped into rings, sautéed in butter and generously heaped on chicken-provolone sandwiches. And that is why I am so heartily dedicated to the worldwide spread of this fabulous vegetable! It’s not just for quiche and soup, it’s a sandwich topper. A pasta enhancer. A cheese’s richest dream. Risotto’s most cherished mixer.

I have no distinct recipe for leeks, but here’s the best method I’ve found for coaxing out their fullest flavor.

Sautéed Leeks

One tablespoon butter
Dash of kosher salt
One leek

Melt butter in a sauté pan. Cut off the rooty end of the leek and the rather tough dark-green torso. You should have about 5-6 inches of usable leek. Cut into thin discs, and (this is SO enjoyable), using your thumb, push out the rings into the pan. Toss every 2-3 minutes. They’re done when you see hints of caramel brown on the edges, about 15 minutes.

a savory marriage...

…of artichokes and crab, that is.

As a rule, I am not a mayonnaise fan. The word itself, even the sight of it, causes my uvula to tense up a bit, in preparation for the inevitable gag.

But as any Southern cook knows, mayonnaise is a necessary evil for truly creamy texture. Dips, salads, dressings, even tomato pies… all require the addition of a glutinous dollop (and Miracle Whip just doesn’t cut it, either.) The French use crème fraîche; we use raw eggs and oil. Nuff said.

And in the gloriously salty relationship of artichokes, crab, and a healthy dusting of parmesan, it is the glue that makes this marvelous mixture so very miraculous. (There’s enough alliteration for you to last till Christmas.)

This particular recipe is passed down from my mom, who snatched it from a lady named LuAnn Schoppe (I know this solely because her name is written on the recipe), and it’s perfect as a culinary launchpad for the holiday season. It’s a quick, easy, scrumptious appetizer to accompany the requisite mixed nuts and champagne punch bowl.

Artichoke Dip

1 can artichokes, drained and chopped

1 can white crabmeat, drained
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup parmesan
2 minced garlic cloves

Mix all ingredients; chill and serve.