Tortilla soup

No, I'm not talking about that silly movie, which, incidentally, is a remake of a great movie. (May I ask why people remake good movies? If you're going to remake a movie, pick something that was cruddy the first time around, which had potential but fell short. Don't take a movie that was already good and make a lame, watered-down version it. It's just insulting to everyone involved.)

Back to the soup. I'm talking about the real thing: soul-warming, slightly spicy tortilla soup, filled with chicken, tomatoes, chiles, and sunny yellow corn.

Of course, there are a lot of variations on tortilla soup. Some recipes call for the tortillas to be cooked in with the soup, to provide a thickening agent. And then there are recipes like the one I used from Firehouse Food, in which you fry the tortillas in little strips and use them as a crunchy garnish.

From the first spoonful, this tortilla soup catapulted to the favorite recipe category. The flavors were perfectly balanced, the broth warm and soothing with just the slightest hint of heat from the chilies. It was a cinch to put together, too.

It does take a bit of planning. You simmer a whole chicken in stock, let it cool, then shred it. You could take a shortcut on this, and use chicken breasts or thighs that you sauteed quickly in a pan, I suppose. But I think this step, while it added about an hour of cooking time to the dinner, was critical. First of all, I used good homemade stock. Cooking the chicken in the stock makes a doubly-flavorful cooking liquid, which you then use for the soup. Second, the texture of the chicken that has been simmered in broth then shredded is much different than the way it would be if you cooked it in a saute pan.

Once the chicken is cooked and shredded, though, the soup moves quickly. And garnished with cheese, crispy tortillas, lime juice, and avocado, it's perfection in a bowl.

Tortilla Soup
from Firehouse Food

Serves 6

1 frying chicken (about 5 lbs) cut up and skin removed (do NOT skip removing the skin, or the soup will turn out oily)
8 cups chicken broth
1/2 c. plus 2 T. vegetable oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 can (7 oz.) diced roasted green chiles
1 t. ground cumin
1 can stewed (14.5 oz) Mexican-style stewed tomatoes (I used regular plum tomatoes and added a pinch of marjoram)
1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce)
1/4 c. arborio or other short-grain rice
3 corn tortillas, halved and cut crosswise into 1/4" strips
1 c. fresh or frozen corn kernels
1/2 c. chopped cilantro
salt and pepper

Accompaniments:
1 avocado, pitted, peeled and diced
grated Monterey Jack cheese
sour cream
1 lime, cut into wedges

Put the chicken in a large, heavy stockpot with the broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook until the chicken is tender and pulls away from the bone easily, about 45 minutes. Transfer the chicken pieces to a plate and let cool. Remove the meat from the bones and tear into bite-sized pieces. 

Pour the broth through a fine-mesh strainer into a bowl and skim as much fat as possible from the surface (do not skip this step; I did and had to skim at the very end when everything was combined--not easy).

In the now empty stockpot, heat 2 T. of the oil over medium heat and saute the onion until soft, about 3 minutes. Stir in the chiles and cumin and cook about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes, tomato sauce, strained chicken broth, and rice. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 20 minutes.

While soup is cooking, heat the remaining oil in a skillet over medium high heat. Fry the tortillas in small batches until golden brown, removing them with a slotted spoon to a paper towel. Set aside.

Add the chicken and corn to the soup. Simmer for 20 minutes more. Add cilantro and season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls, top with tortilla strips and other garnishes, and serve at once.

Italian pot roast with crispy forgotten cabbage

Do you ever pretend a mistake was on purpose?

Take my recent attempt at green cabbage. Originally, I envisioned it as an echo to my red cabbage efforts  (here and here), which both turned out quite successfully: soft, slightly sweet, and mellow from long cooking over low heat.

Repeating this method should not have been a problem, since the rest of the dinner, Marcella Hazan's Pot Roast of Beef Braised in Red Wine, required little supervision. But somehow, I got distracted watching back-to-back episodes of "Mythbusters," left the heat too high, and forgot to check on the cabbage for quite some time. When I did eventually remember it, it was more brown than green and had stuck to the pan.

Mon petit chou! I thought. I've neglected you.

But since it was too late to start anything new, I scraped it out and served it alongside the pot roast.

"Isn't it nice how crispy the cabbage is?" I said to the husband, as if it had been my intention all along. "It adds such a good texture to the whole dinner."

Honestly, I'm happy it turned out that way. Slow-cooked meat gets that pull-apart consistency, which is lovely, but it can benefit from some contrast. So I decided to call my cabbage crispy instead of burnt, and forgotten instead of neglected. I think it adds an air of mystery to it.

As nicely as the cabbage turned out, I realize the pot roast is the more desirable part of this dinner, and that is probably the recipe you'd like to see. But while it's simple to make, it's long to type out. And, I highly recommend you add Marcella's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking to your collection. This book is not only full of excellent recipes, but countless techniques that I have now integrated into all of my cooking. But if you really want the recipe, email me and I'll scan it and send it to you.

Crispy Forgotten Cabbage

1 head of cabbage, red or green, thinly sliced
3 T. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt and pepper

Heat olive oil over medium heat in a wide skillet. Add garlic, and saute for 1-2 minutes. Add cabbage, liberal sprinklings of salt and pepper, and toss. Turn up the heat to medium-high and cook for 30-45 minutes, depending on how you prefer it, stirring occasionally. But not too often: you want it to get, you know, crispy. Check seasoning before serving. In my opinion, cabbage needs a fair amount of salt.

That concludes my cabbage recipes for the time being. Thanks for hanging in there, I know they're not the most glamorous little guys. But even the drabbest winter vegetables deserve their moment in the spotlight.

Kentucky buckeyes

The other day, a small package arrived in the mail, with a return address from Kentucky.

Since it was addressed to the husband, I placed it carefully on the bench in the front hall and tried to ignore it while I went about my business. But first, I shook it a little. Something rumbled around inside. The other hungry dog and I sniffed the box and looked at each other.

Bourbon balls? we wondered. A tiny jam cake?

When the husband arrived home a little while later, we followed him around until he opened the package, which turned out to be from his mother. He pulled out two ziploc bags.

"Buckeyes!" we exclaimed happily.

For those of you who may not know, a buckeye is basically a homemade Reese's peanut butter cup, rolled to look like the nut from this kind of buckeye. I don't need to tell you the joys of peanut butter and chocolate rolled into a bite-sized ball. And while we are not big on candy in this household, if we're going to delve into some kind of cheapo chocolate, the Reese's peanut butter cup reigns supreme. The husband claims they are elevated to the sublime when consumed with a Guinness, something I can neither confirm or deny.

In any case, back to our little buckeyes, made by the mother-in-law in rural Kentucky, packed snugly into a box, and shipped across the country to two hungry Californians. We unwrapped them and placed some on a plate.

Cute, aren't they?

I'm sure you couldn't possibly want to know what comprises a buckeye; it's really a bit troubling, especially during these post-holiday months when we're supposed to be running on treadmills and eating lightly-dressed salads. But just in case you're dying to know, I thought I'd post the recipe.

Kentucky Buckeyes

3/4 c. softened butter
1 c. smooth peanut butter
1 box (3 1/2 c.) powdered sugar

Mix all ingredients with your hands and form into small balls. Place on cookie sheets covered in wax paper. Let cool in the refrigerator for half an hour.

Meanwhile, melt 8 oz. semisweet chocolate with 1/4 sheet of Gulf Wax in a double boiler.

Dip candy into chocolate mix, leaving a spot in the middle so it looks like a buckeye.

These are best stored in the refrigerator.

Now, some of you might be wondering what the hell Gulf Wax is. So was I, when I read the hand-written recipe the mother-in-law sent to me on an index card. Despite her perfect handwriting, I was sure it was a mistake.

The husband patiently explained to me that Gulf Wax is a paraffin wax often used in candy making and is perfectly edible.

You learn something every day! And all the better if it comes in a peanut butter and chocolate package.