I probably picked the worst day of October to roast chicken thighs. Fresh from a few days of rain, the crisp fall weather sent me running to the oven. But the day I made this dish, it was a cool 84 degrees in Los Angeles. Sometimes this city has a mind of its own, weather-wise, and mid-fall was rapidly turning into mid-summer all over again.
But, weather aside, this recipe was quite satisfying. Crisp chicken skin, creamy couscous, and a glass of Chardonnay from one of our favorite wineries.
When I started cooking in college, my repertoire was limited to grilled cheese, spaghetti with jarred marinara sauce, and chicken fajitas. Fajitas with grilled chicken, brown onions and red and yellow peppers were practically a weekly staple and the dish I entertained with most often. I knew how to make them and I stuck with it for years.
Nowadays I prefer grilled steak, red onions, and green peppers. I also add lots of lime, some chile powder for a kick, and loads of guacamole. But watch out: all these components can require a bit of prep and clear your cupboards of its serving bowls.
It's October, a month typically devoted to shades of orange, not only in the kitchen with all the squash and pumpkin available, but in the leaves (if they change in your neck of the woods), the magazine covers, and the grocery stores reminding you to pick up Halloween candy. Fall announces itself in a big way, and I'm always finding myself printing out recipe after recipe of all things pumpkin. Thankfully, this year I'm finally getting around to making a few of them.
I've been spending time with my cookbooks lately. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I have them on the shelf, and that they're filled with swoon-worthy recipes. In this digital age where I receive tweets from my favorite food magazines, have more food apps then I care to admit, and send myself recipes by email, it's easy to forget about the heavy, glossy pages of a cookbook. Not that I don't love them, of course, but I often find myself so inundated by food from other sources during the day that when it comes time for meal planning, I instinctively reach for my iPhone instead of the bookshelf.
Before he transitioned from cooking show expert to restaurateur (I'm hoping to get to Wayfare Tavern sometime soon), Tyler Florence was one of our favorite Food Network chefs, and recently I was compelled to pull out one his cookbooks and revisit some of the recipes I bookmarked.
I still had a few peaches leftover from the peach and basil crumble, so peach barbecue sauce was a useful way to finish off the week of peaches.
I also made fried carrots. They're small, sweet, salty, and addicting. I'm surprised I managed to get their picture before finishing the plate.
GRILLED CHICKEN PEACH BARBECUE SAUCE
Recipe adapted from Tyler Florence, Tyler's Ultimate: Brilliant Simple Food to Make Any Time
Ingredients
Brine
4 cups water
1 tablespoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons cup brown sugar
2 garlic cloves, smashed
2 fresh thyme sprigs
1 tablespoon whole peppercorns
4 chicken breasts
Barbecue Sauce
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 bunch fresh thyme sprigs
1/2 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 cups ketchup
2 large peaches, peeled and roughly chopped
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup molasses
2 tablespoons white vinegar
1 tablespoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon paprika
Freshly ground black pepper
Salt
Preparation
For the brine, combine the first six ingredients in a gallon-size plastic bag. Add the chicken and seal. Refrigerate for up to two hours.
To make the sauce, heat two rounds of olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the thyme (secured with twine), garlic, and onion. Sauté until fragrant and the onion becomes translucent. Add the remaining ingredients and stir to combine. Cook slowly for about twenty minutes.
Puree the sauce in a blender, then return to the pot.
Cook chicken on a well-oiled indoor or outdoor grill (your preference). When you flip the chicken, brush it with some of barbecue sauce. Serve cooked chicken with extra sauce.
FRIED CARROT CHIPS
Ingredients
4 large carrots, thinly sliced with a mandolin
Canola oil, for frying
Salt and cayenne pepper, for dusting
Preparation
In a large cast iron pan, heat 2 inches of canola oil to 325 degrees. Fry the carrots in batches, about 3 to 4 minutes total, or until beginning to turn golden brown. Remove carrots and place them onto paper towels. The carrots will continue to crisp as they cool. Immediately sprinkle with salt and cayenne pepper (if using). Serve hot.
I'm one of those hyper-organized bloggers that preps posts a week or two ahead of time. I like to have things scheduled in case life gets busy or I'm just not up for writing. But this recipe is different. It's entirely dependent on the seasons, and if I waited until late September, you might have missed your chance entirely. So I'm hoping some of you still have juicy tomatoes and fresh corn around to send off summer in style.
Please drop whatever you're doing and make this. Actually, let me rephrase. Since you're in the middle of reading this post, finish reading, take note of the ingredients, and be sure you have everything you need to start baking. Just writing this post makes me wish I'd had more self control, but every last bite was gone in about two days. And I have to confess, most of the bites belonged to me. It's both a blessing and a curse that Andrew isn't the biggest fan of crumbles (though the vanilla ice cream, he can handle), leaving me no choice but to eat everything before it wastes away in the refrigerator.
The politics of food and agriculture has been a hot topic recently. More than ever, consumers are paying attention to the ingredients in the food they buy, realizing the benefit of eating fresh produce, and supporting local farmers. It shouldn't be this way, but sometimes eating better is more expensive. You must make a conscious decision to buy local, organic, or grass-fed, even if it means sacrificing in other areas. But, if you're passionate enough, this decision will be good for both your body and the environment.
In the two and a half years since I’ve had my blog, it’s undergone several makeovers. Actually, the first version of this blog had an entirely different name, Roasted Garlic, and its first post was appropriately, roasted garlic. To be honest, I haven’t cooked with it much since, though I’m not sure why. Roasting garlic is straightforward and the work is done in the oven. The flavor is bold but mellowed by the other components of the dish, and tossing it together is almost effortless.
I sometimes don't know what to do with beets. They're an ingredient I get excited about when I find them in my vegetable box, but inevitably they remain untouched for weeks. I've mentioned my issues with texture before and that I tend to like things smooth: soup, mashed potatoes, and beets, as it turns out.
For my birthday last year, my parents came to town and took us to lunch at a little Italian restaurant in our neighborhood. I ordered the beet risotto and proceeded to recreate it in a previous post, but after attempting the recipe again, I much prefer this updated version.
I was planning to title this post "The Writer In Me," but didn't want to deter you from the fact that at the end of these somewhat lengthy paragraphs is an elegant yet easy recipe for you to try. So before we get to that, a few things.
In addition to my full-time job in the philanthropy sector, I also have a background in writing. It started in 5th grade, and I haven't stopped writing since. I even have a masters degree in poetry, which is why the transition from poetry and fiction to a life-changing obsession with food came as a bit of a surprise.
Sometimes I know I'll fall in love with a recipe even before I set out to make it. There are moments in my cookbook reading, magazine page flipping, and RSS feed browsing where a recipe—the title, a photo, or an enticing description—makes me stop and think: “I must make this...immediately!” You just know.
My light bulb moment came during a weekday lunch break when I was huddled inside of a Coffee Bean sipping a tea latte. June and July were strange months in Los Angeles, weather wise. The usual warm, sunny afternoons were replaced by clouds that didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. Evenings were cool, even a bit breezy. I found myself craving soup, pumpkin, mushrooms. In general, foods associated with fall and winter, not summer.
Not too long ago, the wonderful Tiina over at sparkling ink posted some heavenly looking banana muffins. On a recent lazy Sunday afternoon, I stirred the batter together and let the cinnamon perfume the kitchen as they baked.
It was the perfect day for baking. The sun, covered by southern California’s seemingly endless “June Gloom,” had yet to emerge from the fog layer, and it almost felt a bit like fall, when you feel like curling up with a bowl of popcorn for an afternoon movie, and simmering soup on the stove for hours.
Figs have been on my mind lately. I often see them featured in magazine recipes and sitting in cartons at the grocery store, but I rarely buy them. I love the deep purple of their skins, the peridot and pink colored insides.
The smell of figs cooking is soothing. You’ll notice it too, after they’ve been cooking and are close to reaching the congealed jam consistency, they will emit a perfume that, if you’re like me, will remind you of wine tasting and picnics and summers spent outdoors.
Our Fourth of July weekend was relatively quiet. We spent an afternoon lingering at the Getty, then stayed home on the big day and made this steak. It's been a couple of weeks now, and Andrew is still talking about it. When we started preparing dinner, my expectations were not especially high for this dish. I assumed it would be acceptable fare for a summer holiday, but was unprepared for how my taste buds reacted.
Andrew and I have started exercising again! We finally agreed on the days of the week to get outside after work, and for the past three weeks we've been sticking to it. I try to be optomistic, generally, but because we've stopped and started in the past, I'm not sure how long this will last.
On the days we exercise, my routine is to prep a few things for dinner before we run so we aren't waiting too long to eat after we get back. My favorite dish is the kind I can pop in the oven while we're out, and these peppers fit the bill. They're hearty and filling, which is great for refueling after a workout, and not even a carnivore will miss the meat in this dish.
There is a relatively well-known chain of French-inspired cafe's called Le Pain Quotidien that makes irresistible bread, tarts, tartines, and other rustic fare. It's one of the few places I don't mind eating out, because it's the kind of food I love to eat. They also serve iced tea lemonade in your own carafe. My meal is usually something I can recreate at home, which is ok with me because I dine there to be inspired. I eat consciously, always walking away feeling satisfied and refreshed.
Back in May I made a raw asparagus salad, but I never thought to throw it on top of pizza. Deb did, and I'm so glad, because it makes a wonderful dinner and gets me out of the mozzarella and tomato sauce pattern that sometimes takes over.
During the course of making this pizza, I found myself pulling a few asparagus ribbons out of the bowl and snacking on them while I waited for the dough to rise. Then I left the kitchen to avoid eating the majority of our pizza topping. Takeaway: More asparagus is always better, if you have it.
