Menu for One

Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli

My least favorite word is "obviously," because nine times out of ten, when someone uses it, whatever they're trying to communicate isn't actually obvious at all.  Even more so than "really" and "very," which are used for emphasis, "obviously" gets thrown in there to lend support to something that is otherwise unsubstantiated!  (yikes, I'll get off my soapbox...apparently, I feel stronger about the use of this word than I thought).

Sort of along the same lines, sometimes I wonder if the phrase "fool proof" is tossed around a little too loosely...I probably tried making that "Foolproof Fudge" on the side of the Fluff jar half a dozen times when I was growing up with very inconsistent results, to say the least.

That being said, I bring you without further ado: Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli.  Obviously, it is the greatest roasted shrimp and broccoli ever made and it is absolutely fool proof.

This recipe first premiered on the NY Times back in January, but I first learned about it on The Wednesday Chef.  In addition to featuring two great leading players (shrimp and broccoli), it also happens to feature my favorite cooking medium (is that the right word?  it sounds like an artist's specialty in oil paints or clay sculpture).  If the cooking mediums (poaching, steaming, braising, roasting, etc.) were competing in an Olympic competition for the title of Fool Proof, roasting would be a front runner.  Why?  Because it is very hands off and there is very little technique.  This recipe illustrates one of the most basic roasting formulas, and offers a tasty variation.  I offer that the most basic roasting formula is:

ROASTING = HEAT + FOOD CUT INTO SIMILARLY SIZED PIECES + OLIVE OIL + SALT AND PEPPER

That's it.  Take for example, Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli.  Preheat the oven to 425F.  Cut up the broccoli into small pieces, about the size of the shrimp.  Toss in a bowl with olive oil, salt and pepper, plus coriander, cumin, and chili powder (aha!  the variation).  I recommend using ground spices instead of the seeds, as The Wednesday Chef recommended (see her post for proportions).  Spread out evenly onto a cooking sheet and roast for 10 minutes.

 

(aside: ordinarily, if I were roasting only root vegetables, for example all of the vegetables would be put on the same baking sheet and roasted together, but here, shrimp cooks in a nano second, and would be way over done by the time the broccoli was ready, so the shrimp only get thrown in at the end).

Meanwhile, combine the shrimp, olive oil, salt and pepper, and lemon zest in the bowl.  

After the broccoli have cooked for 10 minutes, add the shrimp to the baking sheet, and using tongs, toss to combine. 

 

Cook the shrimp and broccoli together for 10 minutes (using the tongs to toss midway through, just to make sure everything gets that beautiful "I was roasted" color on all sides).  And you're done!  Just squeeze some lemon juice on there and dinner is served.  It's great as is, but can also be served over pasta or rice.

As I mentioned, I LOVE roasting, so this isn't the last time you will hear me squawking about it.  Suffice it to say, roasted food is low maintenance.  Roasted food keeps its color, often becoming even more vibrant (just look at that broccoli!).  Its flavor is intensified (unlike some other cooking methods where you risk watered down flavors), and did I mention you just put it in the oven and walk away?  

Bon appetit!

Chicken Stock

I think I've mentioned it before, but one of the kitchen ingredients I use the most is chicken stock.  Remember 10 years ago when all those Chicken Soup for the Soul books came out?  I never dreamed that beyond Chicken Soup for the Soul and A Second Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul there would be Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul, Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul, or A Fifth Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul (no joke).  But these publishers were onto something.  Indeed, there is something powerful about chicken soup.

I studied music in college, among other things.  One of the most difficult assignments I ever had came from my music theory professor.  He gave each student a different Chopin mazurka (polish folk dance with lots of flourishes), and each was relatively unknown.  Our job was to see beyond the flourishes and reduce the piece down to its essence in three stages, until there was only one note remaining per phrase.  The intention was that we would come to appreciate the structure of Chopin's composition as we studied it and took it apart.  

In the same way, if we take it apart a bowl of chicken soup, looking past the flourishes of egg noodles, carrots, celery - even the pieces of chicken, the soup's true healing powers lies (lays?  argh, I can never remember which!) in the chicken broth.  This is what brings us together today.

There are many out there who will tell you that if you can't use homemade stock, use shouldn't use stock at all.  I am not one of those people.  However, there is a BIG difference in quality, and once you make it for yourself, you will want to make it again and again.

Pros to making your own chicken stock: CHEAP-ola.  It's made from leftovers and scraps that might not be enough to eat on their own, a veritable illustration of the Waste Not Want Not philosophy (always a good idea, but especially so in times like these).  It makes your house smell good, and it can be used in almost everything.  Did I mention it's fool proof and requires no technique whatsoever?

Cons: it takes time - but that's ok, isn't it?  Plus, it's almost entirely inactive time on your part. So basically, there are no cons to making your own stock.

There are a million ways to make stock, and while some are better than others, I don't think there's really a wrong way.  Here's mine.

As you can see on this table, in addition to the items on the list, I have *stock bag* - a brilliant new tip I just picked up from Smitten Kitchen.  I just stash peelings and veggie stubs in a bag in the freezer and empty the whole bag into the stockpot whenever I made a new batch of chicken stock.

So here goes.  Step 1: dump all the ingredients into a large stockpot.  Cover with with cold water.  Step 2: Simmer for 3 hours.  (Modification: the directions above say bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer.  I recommend just simmering to avoid cloudy - but nevertheless delicious - stock that results when it is boiled too long).  I make stock on the stovetop, but I have been toying with the idea of making it in the oven next time where a steady temperature is easier to maintain.

It'll look ugly for awhile, but don't mess with it for three (3) hours  Then drain the stock into a large container, and spoon off the layer of fat.  Alternatively, after draining, just wait for the liquid to cool, and the fat will turn into an easy to remove solid.  (sounds delightful, I know).

Either put it to use right away, or store it for another day.  It will keep about a week in the refrigerator, or several months in the freezer.  My mother pours her stock into muffin tins and ice cube trays, then puts the frozen cubes into a large ziplock bag in the freezer.  I highly recommend this method for those of us cooking for one!  Sometimes you need less than a quart of stock, and this muffin tin method allows for you to pull out just what you need, in pre-measured amounts.  Just thaw in the refrigerator or microwave and you're ready to go.  In my mom's case, she'll pull out a cube or two when she wants to thin out a sauce or gravy, deglaze a pan, or add flavor to cooking rice or greens.

What else can you do with homemade chicken stock?  Well that, my friends, is fodder for another post.  Coming soon...

Oven-baked French Fries (or Kathryn gets schooled)

A bounty of sweet potatoes sat in a basket in my kitchen last week.  In an effort to make good use of them, and to satisfy a late night craving, I decided to transform them into fries.  I chopped them up, tossed in a little olive oil, and hit them with a dash of salt and pepper.  I spread them out evenly on a baking sheet, and put them in a 425 degree oven for, oh, I don't know how many minutes.  Lots of them.  20 minutes: not ready.  25: soft on the inside, but not crispy.  Long story short, they never got to the crispy stage.

My roommate's verdict: they tasted like great roasted sweet potatoes, but they weren't fries.  She was right.  Later, she schooled me, and made sure it was fully documented so I could set the record straight here :)  (As you'll see below, she used regular potatoes, which I still contend played a large part in her success).

To have success with oven-baked fries, one key technique is cutting THIN fries (my first error).  

As you can see here, my roommate's fries are about a 1/4 inch wide.  She also brushed them with a lot of olive oil, sprinkled with garlic salt (nice touch) and baked them at 375 degrees for about 30 minutes.  

Et voila!  CRISPY fries.  Lesson learned.  They were just what I needed that night.  Unfortunately, they were not enough to console me when Syracuse lost to Oklahoma in the Sweet Sixteen.  Better luck next year.