Google Alert - recipe |
- Of Love And Leeks (With <b>Recipe</b>)
- Outdoor education and service learning: <b>Recipe</b> for success
- Eat Your Heart Out: <b>Recipe</b>: Malaysian-style Bak Kut Teh v2.0 肉骨茶
- Chef Nick Armitage shares his <b>recipe</b> for English roast beef and <b>...</b>
- <b>Recipe</b> created for Selby College charity cookbook
- TTLG: Adding to the <b>Recipe</b>
| Of Love And Leeks (With <b>Recipe</b>) Posted: 25 Oct 2013 02:41 AM PDT Kathy Gunst: A dish inspired by a woman I never knew and the interpreted memories of a granddaughter far from home. (Courtesy of the author) "Leeks," the cashier says, "oh, my grandmother!" Her accent is lilting, almost musical. She takes the bundle of green and white allium from me, holds them, and I watch as she's transported to a time and place far away from where we stand. The leeks are thin and elegant, a gorgeous variation of greens and whites, coated in chocolate brown dirt. "My grandmother," she says talking to the air, "she used to cook the leeks all the time. In a stew. So sweet. I remember how sweet it was." I am in a General Store on Martha's Vineyard. Away from home with time to listen. The woman at the counter, in her 30s, has thick dark hair and an exotic, tired face. "Where are you from?" I ask. "Where did your grandmother cook?"
"Romania," she answers looking me in the eye. I think she might cry. I want to hear about how her grandmother coaxed the sweetness from leeks. I want to know what else goes into a Romanian leek stew — what it might look like, taste like. But a line has formed behind me: Early morning shoppers coming in for coffee, newspapers, and blueberry muffins. The cashier hands me the bundle of leeks and says, with sadness in her voice, "That will be $4.85, please." And I know the moment is over. She is back in the store, ready to wait on the next customer. Romania and her grandmother are gone as quickly as they came. Leeks are subtle, yet powerful. They are sweet, tender and versatile. Yet, somehow, they are also the most overlooked member of the onion family. I've come to think of them like a beautiful woman hiding beneath big glasses and an over-sized sweater. Under-rated. Under-appreciated. Outside of France, where leeks are a central ingredient in many soups, stews, sauces and braises, I rarely meet anyone as passionate about leeks as I am. Until, that is, my recent encounter with a wistful grocery store clerk. I think of her later in the day as I slowly braise the leeks as a way of celebrating the first chilly evening of a new season. Lamb shanks and butternut squash from a farm stand go in next. I brown the lamb shanks, letting them release their rich, almost gamey flavor on top of the leeks. The squash, cubes of sunset orange, will add more sweetness. I find chives and fresh parsley, chop one of the garden's last tomatoes and I'm on my way.
A stew inspired, in part, by somewhere in the world I've never been, a Romanian woman I never knew, and the interpreted memories of a granddaughter far from home. Braised Lamb Shanks with Leeks and Butternut Squash Like all stews this one is best made a day ahead of time. Cook at least several hours before serving. Serve with a good crusty bread. 1 1/2 tablespoons canola oil
*Ask your butcher to cut the shanks into small 1-inch pieces In a large pot heat 1 tablespoon canola oil and ½ tablespoon olive oil over low heat. Add the leeks, garlic, and scallions and cook, stirring occasionally, for 8 minutes. Add half the cinnamon, cumin, red pepper, salt, and pepper and cook another 2 minutes. Remove the onion mixture to a plate and set aside. Preheat the oven to 275 degrees. Place the flour on a large plate and season liberally with salt and pepper. Lightly dredge the lamb shanks in the seasoned flour. Heat the remaining oils over high heat. Brown the shanks on all sides, for about 5 minutes, or until golden brown. Add the squash cubes, the remaining cinnamon, cumin and cayenne, and half the parsley and basil; stir well. Add the wine and let simmer for 2 minutes. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Add salt and pepper and the bay leaf. Place the stew back in the oven uncovered for another 30 minutes, or 30 minutes before serving, simmer it over very low heat on the stove top uncovered to reduce the sauce slightly. Serve hot with the additional parsley and basil sprinkled on top. Serves 4.
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| Eat Your Heart Out: <b>Recipe</b>: Malaysian-style Bak Kut Teh v2.0 肉骨茶 Posted: 25 Oct 2013 01:54 AM PDT Bak kut teh 肉骨茶, literally translated as "meat bone tea" is a staple in our family. We have this at least once a week, as it is simple to put together, tastes fantastic, and is nourishing. This is one of our children's Top 5 favorite Asian dishes, for sure. In Malaysia, you can get bak kut teh in a clear or thick soup, or even a dry version. We love them all, but at home, we tend to cook the clear soup version most. Bak Kut Teh For convenience (and we find it really good too!), we use the Eu Yan Sang bak kut teh sachets and have been doing so for the last 10 years. Simply place the sachet in a large pot of water along with your pork ribs (or other cuts of meat) and garlic and simmer for 2 hours. I also like adding in 2 big bones 大骨 which I get from my butcher to the bak kut teh as this adds a lot of flavour to the soup. Other ingredients that I add in are shitake mushrooms, dried Goji berries and red dates. The soup is seasoned with light soy sauce and salt. Just before serving, you can choose to add more ingredients such as enoki mushrooms and tofu pok (beancurd puff) as well. To have a complete and balanced meal, serve the bak kut teh with lettuce and a bowl of rice. A one-pot delight Bak Kut Teh 肉骨茶 Ingredients 2 big bone (without any meat) 大骨 1 whole garlic 15-20 shitake mushrooms, soaked 1 tbsp dried Goji berries 枸杞 6 dried red dates 红枣 1.5l water 2-3 tbsp light soy sauce, to taste 1/2 tsp salt To serve Other optional ingredients Tofu pok (beancurd puff) Enoki mushrooms 1. Place all the ingredients except soy sauce/salt into a large pot and bring water to the boil over high heat. Once boiling, reduce heat to low and simmer on low heat for 2 hours or until the meat is tender and falling off the bone. 2. Season with soy sauce and salt, to taste and simmer for another 15 minutes. 3. Place lettuce in serving bowl, then ladle bak kut teh soup/ribs/mushroom into the bowl. Serve with rice and a garlic-chilli dip. Note: If you prefer your soup with a stronger herbal flavour, use 2 sachets of the mixed herbs and spices. *I am submitting this to the Little Thumbs Up "Soy Beans" event organized by Bake for Happy Kids, my little favourite DIY and hosted by Mich of Piece of Cake. You can link your soy recipes here. If you enjoyed reading my posts, LIKE me on Facebook! Thanks :) |
| Chef Nick Armitage shares his <b>recipe</b> for English roast beef and <b>...</b> Posted: 25 Oct 2013 01:20 AM PDT Comments (0) Recipes are only as good as their ingredients, particularly when it comes to meat. That's why having a good understanding of how to select, cut, and cook meat makes all the difference to the final taste. The appropriately named new book Great Meat is written by Dave Kelly, head butcher at Ruby & White butchers on Whiteladies Road. In the book, Kelly debunks the myths and misinformation around selecting and cooking meat and offers up valuable information to meat lovers and home cooks who want to learn new and different techniques to create great dishes. This comprehensive guide to meat takes you through the technical aspects of choosing cuts of beef, lamb, pork, poultry and game, while providing recipes along the way that will help you try out your newfound techniques. Kelly's butchering expertise comes to the fore in describing how to identify and use different cuts, why and when free range and grass-fed is better, the basics of home butchery and much more. Great Meat is filled with photos and diagrams showing where different cuts of meat come from and how to make the most of them, with recipes from leading chefs and restaurants including The Town House opposite Ruby & White. This recipe for a classic Sunday roast beef dinner comes from Nick Armitage, the chef and owner of The Town House. Serves 6-8 For the roast beef: 2.7 kg bone-in rib of beef, 3-4 ribs in total Salt and black pepper 1 tablespoon dry mustard powder 2 small onions, peeled and halved 3 carrots, peeled and halved 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour For the Yorkshire puddings: 475 ml (2 cups) flour 475 ml (2 cups) milk 475 ml (2 cups) beaten eggs Preheat the oven as high as it will go – ideally 450F (230C). Rub the mustard, salt, and pepper over the meat. Put the onions and carrots into a roasting pan with the meat. Roast for 20 minutes. Turn oven down to 350F (180C). Roast beef for 15 minutes per pound (450g) for rare; add 15 minutes to the total cooking time for medium-rare, 25 minutes for medium, and 35 minutes for well-done. Check the beef regularly, basting at the same time. If the meat feels soft, it is rare. Medium-rare meat feels fairly firm when prodded in the centre. Allow cooked meat to rest, covered, for 30-60 minutes. Pour the cooking juices into a bowl, allow to settle, then skim off most of the fat and reserve. For the gravy, pour a tablespoon of reserved fat back into roasting pan with the carrots and onions. Stir in a tablespoon of flour. Heat gently, stirring, for one minute, then add the reserved pan juices and juices from the rested meat. Cook, stirring, until smooth and thick. Serve with the beef, Yorkshire puddings and steamed seasonal vegetables. For the Yorkshire puddings: Mix batter until smooth, then rest it for one hour. While the beef rests, pour the beef fat into a baking pan or muffin pans – add extra oil if there is not enough. Heat the pan at 450F (230C) until smoking. Add the batter and bake for 10-20 minutes to set. Open the oven briefly to release steam. Bake again for 10 minutes at 350F (180C). |
| <b>Recipe</b> created for Selby College charity cookbook Posted: 25 Oct 2013 01:02 AM PDT Redirect Notice The previous page is sending you to http://www.yorkpress.co.uk/news/selby_tadcaster/10763231.Recipe_created_for_Selby_College_charity_cookbook/?ref=rss. If you do not want to visit that page, you can return to the previous page. |
| TTLG: Adding to the <b>Recipe</b> Posted: 25 Oct 2013 12:30 AM PDT By Nick Hodgson, Guest Columnist Published on Friday, October 25, 2013 The first time I visited Dartmouth was between my sophomore and junior years of high school. I had been here before. My dad was a member of the Class of 1978, and I had been to a few reunions as a kid. But I had never been here without my parents. I came up over my sister's sophomore summer. To put everything into context, I was a late bloomer, and in hindsight, spending the weekend with a bunch of college kids was a bit alarming for me, being only 16 years old. I still wasn't sure I liked the whole high school idea, and college seemed just as confusing to me. But nonetheless, I was excited to spend time with my sister, whom I hadn't seen in two or three months. Upon arriving, I found my sister hanging out with her friends at her off-campus house. Everyone was very welcoming and nice, but I felt awkward. "What did they actually think of me?" That thought bounced around my head the whole weekend. Did they really care about me, some high schooler who had never experienced college before? I felt sort of isolated the whole weekend. My sister may have been with me, and we went on many trips around the area, and I had a great time, but I found myself always wishing my sister and I would get a chance to finally go for a drive to get ice cream in West Leb, or the moment I got a chance to call my parents and give them updates on my weekend. This isolation may have been my own fault, but the whole weekend I felt the world moving around me, and I was simply a ball being kicked around from place to place, from event to event, from party to party, just observing everything. Was it worth it for me to be there? Everyone was nice to me, everyone was excited to meet me, but somehow I felt like I didn't belong. Perhaps it was all the introductions, each just the same as the one before, each ending in the person I was talking to leaving to go talk to his or her roommate. Maybe I was too young to be thrown so quickly into this situation, but I certainly did not feel like Dartmouth was for me. I was left thinking, "Is this college right for me?" Of course, here I am now at a place I can proudly call my home, a place I love and cherish beyond imagination. So where did the transformation happen? When did I change my mind? How did I come to like the idea of college? For one thing, I finally hit puberty. I matured physically and mentally. By the time I began applying for college, I didn't feel like the young, helpless high schooler of old. I was also getting really excited about the next chapter in my life. I loved my high school and my friends there, but we all were anxiously waiting for the day we would become college students. I made my official visit and tour of campus the autumn of my senior year, on a rainy, blustery day. The Green was a swamp, every step I took was in a puddle and I could hardly go a few feet without having to shield myself from the rain pelting my face. Despite the weather, my tour guide was extremely cheery and just plain excited to be sharing her school with us. She made Dartmouth feel like home. She couldn't wait to show us Baker lobby, where she would meet with study groups to discuss the next exam, or the many options for study abroad opportunities or her experience in Paris on the foreign study program. I started to see myself more and more here. So I took a leap of faith and applied early. The beginning of my freshman year was amazing. I could not have enjoyed the fall more. But how did I integrate myself so quickly into Dartmouth? After all, I was at first skeptical if I even fit in at all here. I lived in a single the whole year. Would I make friends? It took me a few weeks, but once I settled into college life, I found my group of friends, the people I would look to every day to go to lunch with, to go to the library with or just to hang out late on a Sunday night. I found my niche. And I really felt at home when I was sitting on the Green watching people building the bonfire for Homecoming, enjoying a sandwich from Dirt Cowboy and talking with my best friends, and I just looked around at everything. The fall colors, the sun, the beauty of the buildings around me — I just knew that everything was perfect. I knew then that Dartmouth was my home. What I want people to take away from what I have said is that college is a place where you can express yourself fully, without any regrets. There is no environment where people aren't allowed to be who they are — in fact, it's encouraged. I love that while my friends and I may love doing one thing, and another group of friends love doing another, we can combine our experiences and really enjoy trying something new. I think that the diversity of the students here, all united by a passion for the school they attend, really makes Dartmouth what we all perceive it as. It's moldable. You have the ability to create your own unique experience. You have the ability to add to the recipe. And what you add to the recipe is the most important part of Dartmouth. Through The Looking Glass is a weekly feature of submissions from community members who wish to write about defining experiences, moments or relationships at Dartmouth. Please submit articles of 1,000-1,200 words to mirror@thedartmouth.com. |
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