Saturday, September 8, 2012
The one where I discover tonkatsu
I've been in a major cooking rut the last few weeks. Months, really. There's no excuse for it, not with all the wonderful summer produce around. For some reason, I've been making the same things over and over again. The short list includes Chicky Teri, Spaghetti with Shrimp and Arugula, various pureed soups, and the assorted quickie dinners that are the best friend of the home cook: pan-roasted salmon with steamed green beans, grilled flank steak with romesco.
I did make one new, great roast chicken--a Spanish roast chicken, with chorizo and little potatoes--of which I neglected to take a single photo. That post will have to wait for the encore presentation. But overall, I've been relying on old recipes, whose grocery lists and directions are etched in my mind.
Finally, though, I felt like doing something new: tonkatsu.
Tonkatsu is the Japanese idea of Western food, according to this article. The Japanese enjoy these little breaded cutlets, dipped in tonkatsu sauce (reminiscent of BBQ sauce) in their Denny's restaurants and are often surprised when visiting the States to not see tonkatsu on the menu.
My friend Stacie posted about this awhile ago, and I often order it as part of bento boxes at Japanese restaurants. But somehow, I'd never made it on my own. Part of it was a faint resistance to breading and frying pork. Now, writing this, it seems like an absurd claim. But, also, tonkatsu ("ton" is pork, "katsu" is cutlet) is often pounded thin. I have no meat pounder. This always seemed an obstacle.
I overcame this so-called barrier to my tonkatsu enjoyment by placing each cutlet between two pieces of plastic wrap, then giving them some good whacks with my cast iron skillet. I wasn't able to get them too thin, but it helped. I think in the end, they were about 1/2" thick.
The recipe is simple. I actually combined, sort of, the directions in the links above and it all worked out just fine. I made four cutlets; we ate two four dinner and the next day, we had them for lunch. The husband's was packed tidily in a tupperware, snuggled between a scoop of rice and mound of bright green broccoli. I started to feel the need to buy some real bento boxes.
I think I can safely say the rut is over.
Tonkatsu
4 boneless pork chops, about 1/2"-3/4" thick
1 cup (more or less) panko
1/4 c. flour
1 egg, beaten
vegetable oil for frying
sliced green onions, optional
Tonkatsu sauce
1 T. soy sauce
2 T worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1 t. brown sugar
1 t. dijon mustard
Directions: Make tonkatsu sauce by whisking all ingredients together. Set aside.
Pound pork cutlets to desired thickness. Season both sides with salt and pepper.
Set up your assembly line: place flour on one plate, beaten egg in a shallow dish wide enough for dipping, and panko on a third plate. Heat enough oil to cover the bottom of a skillet (I used my non-stick) over medium heat.
While the oil is heating, prep cutlets: coat in flour, shaking off the excess; dip in egg (letting excess drip off); and roll in panko, pressing crumbs in. Place chops in pan. You should hear a sizzle, but be careful that the oil is not so hot that it will burn the panko before the pork is cooked. For my cutlets, which were medium-thick, they cooked a total of 8-9 minutes, flipping once, and were perfectly done. The thinner the cutlet, the quicker they'll cook.
When the cutlets are golden brown and crispy, remove to a plate lined with paper towels and let sit for a minute. Sprinkle with green onions and serve, with tonkatsu sauce on the side for dipping.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Pink lemonade bars
Somewhere, it's hot. Not here, but probably wherever you are. If so, these gorgeous and inventive little bars deserve a place at your summer picnic. They really do taste like pink lemonade!
What makes them pink? The simplest raspberry puree stirred into the lemon layer.
This was another winner from Smitten Kitchen. The only slight glitch I had was that stirring in the flour left me with some lumps, which I then spent quite a bit of time trying to squash without overmixing. But, maybe my flour was lumpy to start. I'm not sure. Does flour just get lumpy out of the blue?
Lumpy or no, these delighted all I foisted them upon. Something about the pink, I think. Even the men got giddy.
***
Happy birthdays: Two very important people were born today and to them I wish the happiest of birthdays. First to the huz, then to Stacie. I'm lucky to be married to one and count the other as a lifelong friend. I wish you both wonderful years ahead.
***
To Rome, with love: And Florence and Tuscany too, in a few weeks. Recommendations? Shoot them my way.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
When the cat's away...
The husband has ventured to the midwest for a few days for work, leaving me and Sophie to our own devices. It's reminded me of the couple of years I lived alone, pre-husband. Back then I had Frances, who was around the age Sophie is now. A girl and her dog is a tough combination to beat.
Soph has gotten to sleep on the bed while I've been been free to watch whatever idiotic television I feel like. I've also been able to eat weird solo food, as my friend Liz and I call it. Cooking for one is not necessarily fun or exciting, but it frees you up to do whatever you like, without thought of how balanced or pretty it is. You can also eat things your partner doesn't love. Like eggplant.
This week, right before the husband left, we got our produce box. As if the stars were aligned, it contained one lovely, flawless eggplant, swaddled in a paper towel to keep its beautiful purple exterior from getting nicked. I pulled it out of the box and cradled it happily. "I'm going to eat this whole eggplant myself," I said, beaming, to no one.
I had big dreams for my eggplant baby but in the end, what I did was neither fancy nor involved. I sauteed the diced eggplant in a pan with some olive oil. After it softened, I threw in some chopped, seeded heirloom tomatoes and minced garlic, salt, and pepper. I let that cook down for awhile. Then I added a handful of pitted kalamata olives and a sprinkle of parsley. Finished it with a dash of red wine vinegar.
I tossed this with cooked farro, scooped some into a bowl, and topped it with a dollop of ricotta. There was also a final grating of parmesan, which came after the photo was taken.
I have to tell you, this was a very good dish. I would eat this dish in a restaurant!
Who knew weird solo food could also be so delicious?
Soph has gotten to sleep on the bed while I've been been free to watch whatever idiotic television I feel like. I've also been able to eat weird solo food, as my friend Liz and I call it. Cooking for one is not necessarily fun or exciting, but it frees you up to do whatever you like, without thought of how balanced or pretty it is. You can also eat things your partner doesn't love. Like eggplant.
This week, right before the husband left, we got our produce box. As if the stars were aligned, it contained one lovely, flawless eggplant, swaddled in a paper towel to keep its beautiful purple exterior from getting nicked. I pulled it out of the box and cradled it happily. "I'm going to eat this whole eggplant myself," I said, beaming, to no one.
I had big dreams for my eggplant baby but in the end, what I did was neither fancy nor involved. I sauteed the diced eggplant in a pan with some olive oil. After it softened, I threw in some chopped, seeded heirloom tomatoes and minced garlic, salt, and pepper. I let that cook down for awhile. Then I added a handful of pitted kalamata olives and a sprinkle of parsley. Finished it with a dash of red wine vinegar.
I tossed this with cooked farro, scooped some into a bowl, and topped it with a dollop of ricotta. There was also a final grating of parmesan, which came after the photo was taken.
I have to tell you, this was a very good dish. I would eat this dish in a restaurant!
Who knew weird solo food could also be so delicious?
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