Looking for weekly culinary inspiration? You’ve come to the right place!
Monday:
Polenta Burgers, Roasted Asparagus, Criss-Cut Fries
Tuesday:
Dinner Out
Wednesday:
Chicken Drumsticks with Vinegar Sauce, Herb Rice, Caesar Salad
Thursday:
Pasta with Browned Butter and Mizithra Cheese, Steamed Broccoli, Garlic Bread
Friday:
Chicken Schnitzel, Herb Spaetzle, Green Salad
Bon Appetit!
For awhile now, I’ve been posting our daily menus on Facebook. And to decent fanfare. People seem to love reading what’s gracing our tables each night, so much so, that I’ve been asked by more than a few people to turn this into a weekly blog post. So, without further ado, I’ll be posting “On the Menu this Week” every Monday.
Fall is probably my favorite season for cooking, so I’m glad to be starting this now. As the summer bounty tapers off, it’s replaced by heartier fruits and vegetables that can withstand the elements. One-pot meals are totally de rigeur, and it’s okay for dinner to be a pot of soup with crusty bread. It’s cooler out, so you don’t feel like you’re baking in the kitchen alongside your food. It’s the perfect time to nestle into the kitchen and experiment away.
I should mention this: we don’t eat-in every night, so you may find some holes in the weekly calendar that you have to fill yourself. Personally, I’ve found that by being organized and knowing what we’re doing each week food-wise, we save a lot of money from not impulsively going out to eat. We also save money because our trips to the grocery store are more focused. When you can overlap ingredients from recipe to recipe, you’ll save. Trust me: that whole buying in bigger quantities thing is not without merit.
While I do sometimes make-up recipes, most of what I cook is adapted from my Rachel Ray, Dave Lieberman, Dorie Greenspan, and Betty Crocker cookbooks. I also follow quite a few food blogs, so recipes will often originate from the web too. The recipes are generally simple and don’t require the use of obscure ingredients. If you feel intimidated and would like to follow along from the books, send me a message and I’ll tell you the exact titles so you can buy them. I’ll do my best to post links to the recipes (if available) with each menu.
I hope you enjoy this, and have fun getting more acquainted with your kitchen. As this is a new project, any feedback (for better or worse) is appreciated. Thanks for following along!
One of the many things we’re blessed with in Portland is a bounty of farmer’s markets. There are so many, in fact, that there’s a website dedicated to the different ones held around the city. We had some unusually hot weather for this late in the season this past week, so I knew if I was going to do anything on Saturday (the high was 96), I needed to get it done early. That’s why I decided to go and check-out the Portland State University’s farmer’s market.
As many of you know, I moonlight as a college counselor, so this visit would be 
beneficial two-fold. I’ve often had my kids look-up PSU as a possible college option, however cautioning them that it’s a city campus so they might not have the same college sensation that they would elsewhere. That advice is only sort of true. The college is actually very campusy, and the farmer’s market is held there each Saturday from March through December in the south park blocks.
I hopped on the streetcar and took it directly to the campus. It was so easy and I’m now kicking myself for not having done this sooner. After all, I only have a few months before this market will go into hibernation for awhile. When that happens, where am I going to get the farm fresh eggs I bought? Or the habanero cherry jelly? Or the gorgeous 
yellow heirloom tomato? Not to mention all the sampling I got to do. That was one of my favorite parts. I ate herbs de provence havarti, a variety of charcuterie, red pear, and the freshest goat cheese I’ve ever tasted. It reminded me of my 4-H days when we’d make goat’s milk ice cream in the pens at the fairgrounds.
What are your favorite farmer’s market finds? Brady and I are headed back next weekend so I can show him this not-so-hidden gem in our new home town. With wine tasting, food tasting, and the food carts there to eat from (I finally got to taste Pine State Biscuits), I have a feeling this will become a fall staple rain or shine.
Brady and I are obsessed with @Secretkebab on Twitter. While we’ve yet to use his services, we get a kick out of reading his ridiculous posts marketing Turkish delights that he delivers in NW Portland. Last weekend, we had dinner with friends, and passed around the phone at the table so each person could perform their own version of what his accent must sound like. Even the waiter was dying laughing. Brady thinks this person must be a witty, Jewish kid, because there’s no way someone could be that unintentionally funny. I don’t doubt that the person manning @Secretkebab is the real deal, but I think it’s time to settle the score and find out for sure.
With reviews on Yelp like this:
“So, there we were, leaning against the chainlink fence of the U-Haul rental place in the dark at 30th & Killingsworth. I was absentmindedly fumbling with the wad of cash in my pocket and trying to anticipate what the delivery guy would look like. I hand him $15. He pockets it and shoves a non-descript brown paper bag at me before disappearing into the night. Maitre D. and I walk back to the car feeling like we have a bagful of contraband. We immediately broke into them and were treated to homemade pita bread wrapped around juicy, wood-smoked, medium-rare lamb. Perfectly spiced and incredible.”
it’s hard to imagine the experience would be anything short of magical. His references: magical too. Hashish, boom boom, and ass picnics (whatever those are) have a way of creeping into each Tweet, their inferences neither known nor concerning. If you need a chuckle, follow along.
A bout of 3am sleeplessness last week had me trying to contain my laughter in bed while reading the following Tweet:
“@secretkebab: You call it hookah?! Turkis it is nargile!! I am fill with rose tobacoo hashish and banana skin!! And then I am on the wife!! BOOM BOOM!!”.
So when Brady asked me via BBM earlier, “What am I going to eat while you’re gone?!” (I’m was on a flight to Dallas while I wrote this), I simply replied, “Contact the Turk.” Here’s another hilarious one for posterity:
“@secretkebab: Ask me the wish for the lamb to come kisses nips nips tickel on the face and a man will come!! With kebab for you!! Hello?! HELLO DEER!!”
When I think of chicken, I think of Foster Farms. The bright yellow logo reminds me of shopping at the grocery store with my mom and dad as a child, spacing out in the meat aisle, asking for everything, and often getting shot down. I was invited to be a part of their 2nd annual Fresh Chicken Cooking Contest in Portland as a guest of Jennifer Heigl from Dailyblender.com. We’re Twitter pals, and until yesterday we’d never met face-to-face.I showed up at Le Cordon Bleu early, and found many nice people from Foster Farms and the culinary institute there to greet me. They explained that the contestants (there were five of them) would have approximately 90 minutes to complete their dishes, at which time the judges (there were four of them) would be presented with their plates. At the same time, all of us in the audience would sample each dish recreated by the LCB chefs, and we would have the chance to vote for the People’s Choice Award. Winner winner chicken dinner! Or breakfast. Whatever.
Goat Cheese Polenta (Timmy Baker, Eugene, OR), Hazelnut-Sage Chicken with Ravioli (Mary Lou Cook, Welches, OR), Chicken Mushroom Ragout (Megan Futrell, Hillsboro, OR), Crispy Basil Skinned Chicken Breast with Peach Pink Peppercorn Compote (Russell Kool, Hillsboro, OR), and Stir-Fried Chicken with Walla Walla Onions and Hood River Pears (Deb Stoner, Oak Grove, OR). Each of the contestants were tasked with creating recipes that used local ingredients, and of course, the common thread was Foster Farms chicken. This was the Oregon State finals, and the two winners will go on to join the winners from Washington State (crowned last weekend) and California (crowned next weekend) at the finals at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa, CA.
ingredients, and execution, and each contestant did a wonderful job touching on each category. All of the recipes were easy, and many of the judges commented on that aspect during their explanations. They must have had a hard time deciding, because they deliberated for quite awhile before issuing their decision. Ironically, (I say that because they were both Oregon State contestants last year) Baker and Kool were the cream of the crop. They were the only two repeats in the entire tri-state competition, proving they can bring the heat year-over-year.I never imagined myself devouring chicken dishes at ten o’clock in the morning and liking it, but the event was fabulous and I’m so glad I went. A special shout out to Jennifer Heigl for having me! For me, the winning dish was the Crispy Basil Skinned Chicken Breast with Peach Pink Peppercorn Compote. It’s not really shocking; I’m a sucker for crispy chicken skin morning, noon, or night. 
The compote was tangy, sweet and could stand up on its own, and I’m planning to make a corn meal pound cake to pair it with, as it almost had a dessert-like quality and texture. If you’re interested in any of the recipes from the contest, I’m willing to relinquish them and help you share in the chicken bonanza. Just send me an email. I also have the recipes from the 1st annual competition because I’m just that lucky (thanks Toby!).
Best of luck to the Oregon constituency in Napa at the end of September! If you need someone to pack your knives, carry your whisks, or act as paparazzi, I’m shamelessly offering my services to tagalong. It’s the kind of person I am; a chicken-loving groupie, and I like it that way.
There has got to be a way for me to convince Nikita to open a Spice Monkey in the USA. First things first: convincing him to give me the recipe for the flat rice snack we had. I’m vowing to figure it out.
Today, I traveled far from Fulham to Alexandra Palace. My beginners Indian cooking class was at Nikita’s family home, and I knew upon entry that I was in for a truly authentic experience. His adorable tiny mother, Mrs. G, acted as sous chef, and despite my early arrival, they welcomed me in from the impending rain. While we were chatting, I had a look at the table that was covered in an array of colorful spices, the nucleus of any Indian recipe. Clearly, spices were going to be a large part of our conversation.
Our class took place in their greenhouse, and there were just three of us and Nikita, which was fabulous from a learner’s vantage point. We spent a solid hour pouring over the different spices, their taste, their texture, and their origins. He had everything, from dried coriander and two kinds of cardamom to mustard seeds, fenugreek, and ground red pepper. Let us not forget turmeric; my hands and nails are currently stained a gorgeous yellow hue. He even had fresh turmeric, which I had never seen nor tasted before, but it was amazing. I presumed it was ginger by it’s looks, but as they say, “don’t judge a book by its cover.”
From these spices, we created a variety of masalas. Garam masala is probably the most common and widely recognised, and in a grinder, we made our own version after toasting the different seeds in a dry pan. We also created a version that we didn’t toast at all, and it was great to be able to compare and contrast the two with our noses. Much of what we did today was sensory oriented. It was a wonderful way of getting familiar with so many spices that we have seen, heard about, or shoved to the back of our cupboards after using them just one time. One of Nikita’s biggest points was not to get overwhelmed by the options; use what you like that day, and if you leave something out (like we did a few times), c’est la vie.
Our menu today consisted of aromatic rice, Mrs. G’s chicken curry, cauliflower bhagi, potato curry, and shrikanda, an Indian dessert. I had no idea that Indians had such a sweet tooth, but evidently, that is the case, and randomly, I think the dessert may have been my favourite dish. Most people think of curry as blow-your-head-off hot, oily, and generally difficult to prepare, but I learned today that none of that is the case. In fact, with some thoughtful planning, I think an Indian feast would be the perfect way to entertain. We need to be more adventurous with our palettes in America, and it would be nice if you didn’t have to drive ten towns away to find a decent curry. I always lament that when leaving London because there are about as many Indian places here as there are Mexican joints in California. Are all of them good? Now, I think we all know the answer to that one.
Point being, don’t be discouraged when it comes to experimenting with Indian food in your own kitchen. Try your hand at it with a cookbook and only buy small quantities of the spices until you decide which combinations suit your taste best. Better yet, if you can swing it, make a trip to Spice Monkey and take a class. You’ll be happy you did. I can’t tell you how much easier it was to learn from an expert and see things firsthand. I will be back for another class with Nikita, mark my words.
For now, I’m hanging up my apron to head back to America. Next stop: California followed by a more permanent stop in Portland, Oregon. It may be time for a move into the culinary world, because with each of these classes, I realise more and more that this is what I’m meant to be doing whether it’s stirring, writing, teaching, or otherwise.
The Spice Monkey
http://www.spicemonkey.co.uk
info@spicemonkey.co.uk
Today, our journey took us into the depths of St. Petersburg on the metro, and out of the historical city centre. Exiting the metro, we’d find architecture that triggered immediate ideas of Communism; we had ascended into the projects. Real estate prices here, however, fetch surprisingly high tariffs, and we still are at a loss for an answer as to how people pay to live in this city. It is incredibly expensive.
The food, on the other hand, is quite simple. Russian cuisine is hearty to a point of insulation, and it reminds me a lot of the cuisine I had in Poland earlier this winter. In fact, some of the words are even the same, however, their translations couldn’t be farther apart. Take “pierogi” for example. During our city tour the other day, our driver, Alex, took Brady and I to a traditional Russian “fast food” restaurant for pierogi. We walked in, approached the counter, and looked around for the tender dumplings of various fillings, only to find exquisite golden pastries bursting with sweet and savory insides. Lost in translation? Apparently. Russian pierogis have nothing to do with the dumplings you’d find in Polish milk bars and in the frozen food section of Trader Joe’s. They are bonafide pastries filled with everything from salmon to apricot jam. And quite good. But I digress. The cooking class is why you are reading.
Brady (or Buh-rian, depending on who you ask) and I jumped on the metro this morning and made our way far out of the city centre. You wouldn’t believe how deep these metros are here. A picture wouldn’t even do it justice (and we tried), and if that wasn’t enough, we descended to find just a row of metal doors with people hanging about. Where were the trains? Behind the doors, of course. We entered the train, the doors slammed shut with a resounding clunk, and we were not getting out. Russian suicide prevention, or something else? We wouldn’t find out, but this was unlike any metro either of us had ever seen. The train skated along the tracks briskly, and after about 40 minutes, we arrived at our stop, the 2nd to last on the line.
The plan was to meet our host there at the exit, but as we waited and waited, we both questioned why I hadn’t been more judicious in getting a description of this woman, or giving her ours. Clearly, we stood out; Brady, looking like a proper English gent in his camel overcoat, and me with flat boots and round eyes taking it all in. Everyone was staring. Suddenly, from nowhere, Polina appeared.
An unforeseen incident with her electricity forced us to her mom’s apartment around the corner where the three of us met her mom and Jack, the English Spaniel. Polina and I were about to be up to our elbows in Beef Stroganoff and Turkey Kotlety, so we got straight to work. Neither of these dishes required any special cooking equipment though, only time. The three of us had a chat before we got started regarding the American interpretation of Beef Stroganoff versus the Russian one. Being that it was invented by a chef in this city, I can without a doubt say, we’ve got it all wrong.
I didn’t see a can of mushroom soup anywhere today, nor did I see a mushroom for that matter. Egg noodles need not apply, as they’re not even a part of this dish. Our stroganoff included hand-pounded and sliced meet, an onion, olive oil, a bit of sour cream (save it people), Russian herbs (which Polina so graciously sent us home with), and salt and pepper. C’est tout. The dish truly could not have been easier and I can imagine having it on a cold winter’s night, assuming we actually have a winter this year. Based on current reports, it sounds like a long-shot. We boiled off some potatoes for a mash on the side, and there, my friends, you have the real Beef Stroganoff. Where we ever came up with this concoction over noodles is beyond me.
Next to our Beef Stroganoff and potatoes were massive patties called Kotlety. We ground the meat by hand, and passed all the other ingredients (garlic, carrot, onion, and a bit of white bread) through the meat grinder as well. Cinchy. Before forming the mixture into patties under water, we added in an additional Russian dried herb and salt and pepper, and then sauteed them in frying pans until they were golden brown. This was truly winter fare, and perfect for the flurries falling outside the window.
At the conclusion of our cooking, Brady, Polina and I sat down to a lovely lunch, and talked about all things everything. Polina has Russian citizenship, but was born in London so she’s a British national above all else. We each shared our interpretation of St. Petersburg, discussed immigration in our countries, pondered what living in the Soviet time must have been like, and laughed about how Russians can’t queue or drive for shit. She regaled us with some hilarious stories about being pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the road here (they drove over from London, and she drives on the opposite side in her car), and it was a really fun afternoon.
If you’re headed to Russia and fear the food, don’t worry. It’s really nothing more than meat and potatoes, just like my Irish ancestors noshed on in a similar effort to keep warm in blustery times. The cooking digs today were a real indication of what Soviet Era Russia must have looked like. From the austere apartment buildings with unfinished concrete hallways and stairwells, and the metro experience from start to finish, we were whisked away from European Russia and transported to decades of yesteryear. I’m realizing more and more that traveling through the lens of cooking is a fantastic way to move between countries. Fantastic and different. Really.
Culinary Hopscotch 