The reason why you need this recipe in your repertoire is because:
a) You can make it entirely with ingredients you should always have on hand. Keep some bacon in the freezer if you don't go through it fast enough, or just as a backup. I always do. The other stuff is either pantry staples, dairy staples or canned.
b) It is damned good.
Looking over this recipe, I have to admit that I can't remember making it exactly as written, but must have, because I used to be (*still am*) (*some of the time*) a stickler for by-the-book-recipe-following. I am going to add one minor change of my own (in parentheses). Go as crazy as you want. I bet it would be good with red peppers, or heck, what if you threw in some kind of beans? I probably never will, being kind of a purist (whatever that means) when it comes to corn chowder, but please yourselves.
The recipe:
4 slices bacon
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
2 cups diced, peeled potatoes (I don't peel)
1 17-oz can creamed corn
(1 whatever-sized can corn niblets, drained)
2 cups milk
1 T butter
I'm not actually going to copy the recipe as written, because having read the whole thing, I think it's unnecessarily complicated, so here's my simplified version.
Bring a pot of water to a boil, add the potatoes and simmer until soft. DRAIN. Meanwhile, fry the bacon. Remove from heat and crumble (when it cools) or chop. Sauté the onions in the bacon fat. (Mmmm.) Drain off some fat if you feel like feeling healthy or if there is really an obscene amount.
Add the potatoes to the onions, along with the creamed corn and corn and milk, simmer five minutes more, crumble in bacon and serve.
(This has been edited for clarity and taste.)
There is absolutely no reason why you couldn't make this with frozen (or, gasp, fresh!) corn. What do you keep on hand? Use that. I mean, as a substitute for the niblets, of course. You can't substitute anything for creamed corn. And the recipe I have says that it's for a crockpot, but I can't actually see any good reason to make it in a crockpot. So don't. Start to finish, it's only about, what, forty minutes max. Absolute max. But you can hold off on it, it'll be fine. Think of it as a great, easy, delicious weekday meal. Grab a baguette from the bakery and whip up a green salad if you don't really believe that corn is a vegetable.
Showing posts with label Delicious food for would-be cooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delicious food for would-be cooks. Show all posts
2/10/2008
I'm so tough.
Yeah, this is a food post, but I just want to brag about how I just delivered a 6,800 word translation--that I only started on Friday night! And found time to celebrate my baby's birthday with some hard-drinking friends over pizza and five-pin bowling and the ever-lovely Linnsmore Tavern. Just look at those muscles. Plus I went to Yoga today. And made this bizarre dish...
When I started my cooking odyssey (bearing in mind that I was raised on Dainty Rice (yes, that's prepared rice in a can in a box that nobody believes exists) (check it out--I dare you: rice in a can, frozen peas and Mickey D's), all I could think of to eat were quasi-Mexican dishes. Nothing actually Mexican, but Mexican inflected lets say. That went on for some time. But then I grew increasingly obsessed with my beloved Bombay Mahal, and decided, with my heart in my throat, to try to start recreating their dishes in my kitchen.
God. It's intimidating. Prior to my foray into the cuisine of the subcontinent, my spice rack probably contained: Basil, oregano, cumin, cayenne, mace (I seemed to continually be buying mace, which was more expensive than really seemed justified to me at the time) and maybe one or two other mystery spices. I knew this wasn't going to cut it, and ventured up to Jean-Talon where I became a regular at the various deps that sold everything I could possibly need to wade thigh-high into Indian cooking...AND they knew alternate names for things.
"It says I need dhania, but I don't see it anywhere. It's not on the shelf."
"Sure it is, it's just cumin. It's right here."
And the man working the cash bolts over, pushes my new buddy aside and whispers, "He doesn't know what he's talking about. Here."
And shoves a packet into my hand. It turns out to be coriander. He throws in my green chilies for free.
And thus began my love of cooking Indian food in a halfway, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, kind of way.
Which has nothing to do with my post. That's just mean to inspire those of you who might be afraid to dive into a new cuisine if you don't speak the language and don't understand the spices and haven't the foggiest notion of where to go to find out. I happen to live in a place where this isn't a problem, not even remotely, but you can usually get by just fine in one way or another. Don't be scared.
Because here's the thing. What I'm scared of at this point is Thai food. The ingredient lists are long and intimidating (much like Indian recipes used to be to me) and what's worse, when I've tried to use them, I've wound up more often than not with an inedible mass. Think lemongrass. If you don't know what to do with lemongrass, you might well wreck your best knife and make a vaguely edible soup with hard, chewy hunks of wood in it. That would be lemongrass.
And yet I'm somehow compelled to keep buying Thai ingredients. And let them accumulate on my shelves. So today I said, "To hell with that!" And decided to make a soup.
Of course I didn't jump in blind. I looked around, I thought of Thai dishes I had eaten. And I made a soup that, while not exactly a classic, is enjoyable enough, and certainly something that can be improved upon.
And while not everyone might think I need a schtik, I kind of feel like this could be my calling. So here goes:
Seriously folks, that's it.
What I did? I roasted the squash, because I have no idea who these people are that chop it and peel it. I don't have that kind of time. Cut it in half down the middle, put it face down in the oven (better yet, the toaster oven). Scoop out the seeds and strings. (Yes, you should totally destring and wash the seeds and bake them with oil and salt and pepper and any other spices you want, but I'm not going to make you do it if you don't want to.) Put it on foil, because when the starches come out, it'll make a sweet goo all over your pan. No foil? That's fine. Don't let that stop you from making this recipe. I just recommend keeping some around. Like most of my other ingredients, it doesn't go bad.
Right. So the temperature doesn't matter. 350? That'll take a little longer. 425? A little less time. I add a little water in the pan for some reason, maybe I read it someplace, but it doesn't matter. You can butter your pan if you want to, but again, you don't have to. All that will happen if you don't is the squash might stick to the foil/bottom of the pan a little more. It doesn't matter.
So the squash is cooking. In the meantime, I'm furiously revising my translation to try to finish things in time to go to Ann (going to Ann means going to Sunday afternoon yoga at the Yoga Sanctuary, because truly, it's all about Ann--she's amazing).
After the squash had been in there for some time, I put on a pan of water to boil. Actually, I had some leftover chicken stock from god knows what, so I used that, but water is more than fine. How much? God. Say three cups. It doesn't matter. I mean, not like ten gallons or anything, but anything in the ballpark is fine.
Water boils? Add lentils. You're supposed to pick them over for rocks, and I actually did this time, but you do what you want. A good way is to spread them out on a plate or a tray or something so you can really see them. I've also sometimes read that you're supposed to rinse them, but unlike with rice (I am a strict rice-rinsing and soaking nazi), I am completely inconsistent here.
So you've got the water boiling with the lentils. Stir it around a bit, or the lentils might stick a little to the bottom. No worries, nothing is going to go horrifically wrong. You'll see them pouff up in size eventually. If you taste them then, you'll see that they're fine to eat. I added a whole can of coconut milk at that point, simply because I knew that if I put half of the can in the fridge, even with the best of intentions, it would go green and moldy.
So, you've got your lentil water mixture, plus coconut milk, plus (whoo!) a can of chili paste. This, I don't know how available it is. I would assume somewhat, but also somewhat less than coconut milk. Look around. Ask around. How amazing is that? A whole can of delicious spicy stuff that means that you don't even have to think! It's all done for you! I call that gorgeous. I have the red stuff too, so if you find that, feel free to use it. I just happened to grab the green.
So that's all mixed into the pot, and bubbling away merrily. You can reduce the heat at this point (not to low, say med-low). The squash might be done. Check and see. Does it squoosh? Everywhere? (Mine didn't. I thought it was done, but the long neck-like part of the bigger half (of course I don't cut mine evenly either) was hard as a rock inside. It's fine. You can recover from that.) I recommend making sure it's done, but if it's not, do like I did. Scoop out whatever is done (soft and squishy) and lob it into the soup. The bits that don't seem to want to come off easily? Throw them back in the oven/toaster oven. They'll be ready in ten or so.
When you've succeeded in adding all of the squash to the pot, get out your hand blender. Don't have one? Got a blender? Use that. A food processor? That'll work too. Potato masher? You'll wind up with something less creamy, but just call it "Rustic Thai" and everyone will think it's great.
People jazz up their recipes with all kinds of stuff. Cilantro. Fish sauce. (Admission: I have a bottle of squid brand fish sauce that seems to have expired in 2006 but that was never opened--did I mention that I have a terror of preparing Thai food?--so I opened it today and threw some in. I have no idea what difference it made, if any. I would guess not much.) Chillies. Ginger. Garlic. Onions. That sort of thing. If you have some on hand, why not toss some in? Not too much. Be gentle. Think balance. Think moderation. It'll be great.
For the record, none of these ingredients goes bad (within reason I mean).
Dry lentils - personally have kept them on hand for years.
Coconut milk - ditto
Curry paste in a can - ditto
Squash - the only one of these that can really expire; it's happened to me once. I had a squash in a too-warm kitchen for like six months. Anything less than that and you're probably fine.
When I started my cooking odyssey (bearing in mind that I was raised on Dainty Rice (yes, that's prepared rice in a can in a box that nobody believes exists) (check it out--I dare you: rice in a can, frozen peas and Mickey D's), all I could think of to eat were quasi-Mexican dishes. Nothing actually Mexican, but Mexican inflected lets say. That went on for some time. But then I grew increasingly obsessed with my beloved Bombay Mahal, and decided, with my heart in my throat, to try to start recreating their dishes in my kitchen.
God. It's intimidating. Prior to my foray into the cuisine of the subcontinent, my spice rack probably contained: Basil, oregano, cumin, cayenne, mace (I seemed to continually be buying mace, which was more expensive than really seemed justified to me at the time) and maybe one or two other mystery spices. I knew this wasn't going to cut it, and ventured up to Jean-Talon where I became a regular at the various deps that sold everything I could possibly need to wade thigh-high into Indian cooking...AND they knew alternate names for things.
"It says I need dhania, but I don't see it anywhere. It's not on the shelf."
"Sure it is, it's just cumin. It's right here."
And the man working the cash bolts over, pushes my new buddy aside and whispers, "He doesn't know what he's talking about. Here."
And shoves a packet into my hand. It turns out to be coriander. He throws in my green chilies for free.
And thus began my love of cooking Indian food in a halfway, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, kind of way.
Which has nothing to do with my post. That's just mean to inspire those of you who might be afraid to dive into a new cuisine if you don't speak the language and don't understand the spices and haven't the foggiest notion of where to go to find out. I happen to live in a place where this isn't a problem, not even remotely, but you can usually get by just fine in one way or another. Don't be scared.
Because here's the thing. What I'm scared of at this point is Thai food. The ingredient lists are long and intimidating (much like Indian recipes used to be to me) and what's worse, when I've tried to use them, I've wound up more often than not with an inedible mass. Think lemongrass. If you don't know what to do with lemongrass, you might well wreck your best knife and make a vaguely edible soup with hard, chewy hunks of wood in it. That would be lemongrass.
And yet I'm somehow compelled to keep buying Thai ingredients. And let them accumulate on my shelves. So today I said, "To hell with that!" And decided to make a soup.
Of course I didn't jump in blind. I looked around, I thought of Thai dishes I had eaten. And I made a soup that, while not exactly a classic, is enjoyable enough, and certainly something that can be improved upon.
And while not everyone might think I need a schtik, I kind of feel like this could be my calling. So here goes:
- 1 squash. Any kind. Don't be scared. Butternut is easy, but any winter squash will do. Hell, a can of pumpkin (not spiced) would work if you don't feel like dealing with squash, but since the whole idea here is getting us into the kitchen, I say go for the squash. I paid $0.69/lb for this one.
- 1 can coconut milk. You really can find this in any grocery store, I don't care where you are. Maybe not in Utah, but who can say?
- 1 cup red lentils. Again, anything will do, but those little orange guys kind of go with the colour of the squash, plus they cook so darned fast that you really have no excuse for not keeping some around. Are you adding to your pantry list?
- 1 can Thai curry paste. I used green. I also used the whole can. My soup is quite spicy. Really very quite spicy. You don't need to use nearly as much as I did--I was just trying to keep things simple (for my own self).
Seriously folks, that's it.
What I did? I roasted the squash, because I have no idea who these people are that chop it and peel it. I don't have that kind of time. Cut it in half down the middle, put it face down in the oven (better yet, the toaster oven). Scoop out the seeds and strings. (Yes, you should totally destring and wash the seeds and bake them with oil and salt and pepper and any other spices you want, but I'm not going to make you do it if you don't want to.) Put it on foil, because when the starches come out, it'll make a sweet goo all over your pan. No foil? That's fine. Don't let that stop you from making this recipe. I just recommend keeping some around. Like most of my other ingredients, it doesn't go bad.
Right. So the temperature doesn't matter. 350? That'll take a little longer. 425? A little less time. I add a little water in the pan for some reason, maybe I read it someplace, but it doesn't matter. You can butter your pan if you want to, but again, you don't have to. All that will happen if you don't is the squash might stick to the foil/bottom of the pan a little more. It doesn't matter.
So the squash is cooking. In the meantime, I'm furiously revising my translation to try to finish things in time to go to Ann (going to Ann means going to Sunday afternoon yoga at the Yoga Sanctuary, because truly, it's all about Ann--she's amazing).
After the squash had been in there for some time, I put on a pan of water to boil. Actually, I had some leftover chicken stock from god knows what, so I used that, but water is more than fine. How much? God. Say three cups. It doesn't matter. I mean, not like ten gallons or anything, but anything in the ballpark is fine.
Water boils? Add lentils. You're supposed to pick them over for rocks, and I actually did this time, but you do what you want. A good way is to spread them out on a plate or a tray or something so you can really see them. I've also sometimes read that you're supposed to rinse them, but unlike with rice (I am a strict rice-rinsing and soaking nazi), I am completely inconsistent here.
So you've got the water boiling with the lentils. Stir it around a bit, or the lentils might stick a little to the bottom. No worries, nothing is going to go horrifically wrong. You'll see them pouff up in size eventually. If you taste them then, you'll see that they're fine to eat. I added a whole can of coconut milk at that point, simply because I knew that if I put half of the can in the fridge, even with the best of intentions, it would go green and moldy.
So, you've got your lentil water mixture, plus coconut milk, plus (whoo!) a can of chili paste. This, I don't know how available it is. I would assume somewhat, but also somewhat less than coconut milk. Look around. Ask around. How amazing is that? A whole can of delicious spicy stuff that means that you don't even have to think! It's all done for you! I call that gorgeous. I have the red stuff too, so if you find that, feel free to use it. I just happened to grab the green.
So that's all mixed into the pot, and bubbling away merrily. You can reduce the heat at this point (not to low, say med-low). The squash might be done. Check and see. Does it squoosh? Everywhere? (Mine didn't. I thought it was done, but the long neck-like part of the bigger half (of course I don't cut mine evenly either) was hard as a rock inside. It's fine. You can recover from that.) I recommend making sure it's done, but if it's not, do like I did. Scoop out whatever is done (soft and squishy) and lob it into the soup. The bits that don't seem to want to come off easily? Throw them back in the oven/toaster oven. They'll be ready in ten or so.
When you've succeeded in adding all of the squash to the pot, get out your hand blender. Don't have one? Got a blender? Use that. A food processor? That'll work too. Potato masher? You'll wind up with something less creamy, but just call it "Rustic Thai" and everyone will think it's great.
People jazz up their recipes with all kinds of stuff. Cilantro. Fish sauce. (Admission: I have a bottle of squid brand fish sauce that seems to have expired in 2006 but that was never opened--did I mention that I have a terror of preparing Thai food?--so I opened it today and threw some in. I have no idea what difference it made, if any. I would guess not much.) Chillies. Ginger. Garlic. Onions. That sort of thing. If you have some on hand, why not toss some in? Not too much. Be gentle. Think balance. Think moderation. It'll be great.
For the record, none of these ingredients goes bad (within reason I mean).
Dry lentils - personally have kept them on hand for years.
Coconut milk - ditto
Curry paste in a can - ditto
Squash - the only one of these that can really expire; it's happened to me once. I had a squash in a too-warm kitchen for like six months. Anything less than that and you're probably fine.
2/04/2008
Concept Blog
When I come to think about it, the blogs that I read tend to, in some way, large or small, have a concept. A premise. Like, I don't know, great presentation. Great photographs. Not eating out. Quick and Indian (Mallika, I miss you!). Meat. Southwestern cuisine. Trying new things. You get the idea.
And of course, I have no concept. I am a girl who rarely has a schtick and, if I do, it generally tends to fail. But today I realized what my schtick will be (and whether I'll stick with my schtick). Easy, delicious food for people who really don't know how to cook. I don't mean elaborate meals whose construction requires three pots, 17 ingredients and a knowledge of deglazing. I mean if you're someone who likes to eat delicious stuff, but maybe only has four spices in your spicerack (and they came with), one knife, one pot, and a can of beans in the pantry, and are kind of afraid to walk into a dep and come face to face with your own vast ignorance of Pakistani cooking, say, this could be for you.
This ties into (and was probably inspired by) my cabbage post. That is a perfect dish for someone who is afraid. You can't screw it up. And the ingredients? Ok, buy a cabbage (I have the idea that they last basically forever, so if you can't get to it sooner than later, later than sooner will be fine) (just leave it in the crisper, wrapped in plastic). So you've bought your cabbage? Every single other ingredient should be something you should have on hand. If you don't, start stocking your pantry/fridge now, with stuff that keeps for a really long time:
Some basic items:
Olive oil (pantry)
Onions (pantry/shelf/cupboard)
Garlic (pantry/shelf/cupboard)
Vinegar (pantry) (you should have at least two or three kinds, but you can get small bottles, they'll only cost a couple bucks) (say, balsamic, white, red wine)
Stock (pantry) (bouillon cubes or cans or boxes) (I'd say go whole hog and get chicken, beef and veggie)
Parmesan cheese (fridge) (get good stuff, from your deli counter - I usually get some in a block, that I grate myself, but I also get some grated, so it's already done and I don't have to bother to whip out a grater and bloody my knuckles when I just want some pasta)
Butter (fridge) (and counter)
[Um, and as the ever-lovely Veever pointed out, you also need to have, you know, rice. Risotto was called for, and excellent, but I imagine you could substitute with whatever you've got on hand. I'm going to make it with a mixed-bag of crazy rice varieties. I'll report back.]
Ok. Not only are these all things you should have in your kitchen at all times (I'll add to the list in future posts), but they are all you need for the cabbage. You can do it. Check out the cabbage post. Don't use red cabbage (use Savoy, the darker green, crinkly kind, or regular green). But if you get red by mistake? No worries. It'll just be uglier, but kind of a pleasant surprise.
And of course, I have no concept. I am a girl who rarely has a schtick and, if I do, it generally tends to fail. But today I realized what my schtick will be (and whether I'll stick with my schtick). Easy, delicious food for people who really don't know how to cook. I don't mean elaborate meals whose construction requires three pots, 17 ingredients and a knowledge of deglazing. I mean if you're someone who likes to eat delicious stuff, but maybe only has four spices in your spicerack (and they came with), one knife, one pot, and a can of beans in the pantry, and are kind of afraid to walk into a dep and come face to face with your own vast ignorance of Pakistani cooking, say, this could be for you.
This ties into (and was probably inspired by) my cabbage post. That is a perfect dish for someone who is afraid. You can't screw it up. And the ingredients? Ok, buy a cabbage (I have the idea that they last basically forever, so if you can't get to it sooner than later, later than sooner will be fine) (just leave it in the crisper, wrapped in plastic). So you've bought your cabbage? Every single other ingredient should be something you should have on hand. If you don't, start stocking your pantry/fridge now, with stuff that keeps for a really long time:
Some basic items:
Olive oil (pantry)
Onions (pantry/shelf/cupboard)
Garlic (pantry/shelf/cupboard)
Vinegar (pantry) (you should have at least two or three kinds, but you can get small bottles, they'll only cost a couple bucks) (say, balsamic, white, red wine)
Stock (pantry) (bouillon cubes or cans or boxes) (I'd say go whole hog and get chicken, beef and veggie)
Parmesan cheese (fridge) (get good stuff, from your deli counter - I usually get some in a block, that I grate myself, but I also get some grated, so it's already done and I don't have to bother to whip out a grater and bloody my knuckles when I just want some pasta)
Butter (fridge) (and counter)
[Um, and as the ever-lovely Veever pointed out, you also need to have, you know, rice. Risotto was called for, and excellent, but I imagine you could substitute with whatever you've got on hand. I'm going to make it with a mixed-bag of crazy rice varieties. I'll report back.]
Ok. Not only are these all things you should have in your kitchen at all times (I'll add to the list in future posts), but they are all you need for the cabbage. You can do it. Check out the cabbage post. Don't use red cabbage (use Savoy, the darker green, crinkly kind, or regular green). But if you get red by mistake? No worries. It'll just be uglier, but kind of a pleasant surprise.
2/03/2008
Cabbage is cool
I honestly had no idea, prior to my one and only experiment with cabbage (see Molly Stevens' best-ever braised cabbage) how dirt cheap it was. It seems ridiculous to me that such a beautiful, dense, round vegetable (in so very many hues!) could possible cost like a buck. A cabbage weights about two pounds! Shouldn't it cost more than that!?
Apparently not. I guess that's just the way it goes.
Anyway, I've gone and made another cabbage recipe (it's kind of a two-for-one, actually), and damn, baby, but it's good. So one of the food bloggers I have come to adore (come to think of it, I'll have to add her blog to my roll) is Luisa of the Wednesday Chef. In addition to being gorgeous and exotic, she's running two for two on recipe successes so far.
She also appears to have a thing for cabbages.
So this recipe that I followed actually seems to be two. I wasn't so very wowed by the first one (perhaps being such a cabbage neophyte) and didn't actually even really eat it, since the visions I had dancing in my head of the second part were what was really prodding me on.
And man, was it worth it. Mine was less photogenic than hers (which isn't that photogenic at all), because I went and bought two (TWO!) heads of cabbage, one red and one green. So I wanted to use half of each. And did. And so my dish is grey, and yet still managed to blow my mind, which seems explanation enough of how utterly delicious it is.
It's creamy and rich and cabbagey. This seems almost impossible to me, since I don't necessarily associate cabbages with anything at all, let alone creaminess. But damn, baby. Damn, baby. I think I'm going to whip up another batch just as soon as this one is done.
Plus, Luisa attributes the recipe to Marcella Hazen, who appears to be an icon whose name has not entered my lexicon. I will be making her acquaintance.
Anyway, in a nutshell, this is the recipe.
Part un:
1 cabbage, finely chopped (or not so finely, I suppose)
1 onion, chopped (to your own preference)
Olive oil (Luisa says 1/4 cup, but I might have used less)
Garlic (I always err on the side of excess with garlic, so I added three large cloves, minced)
s, p, wine vinegar (I misread this and used white vinegar - might be why my original recipe was so boring?)
So basically sauté the aromatics in the oil, add the cabbage, toss, add the s, p and vinegar. Lower heat to medium and cover, 1.5 hours or so. This is the dish I didn't eat, but you might really like it, so go nuts.
Part deux:
Take that other batch out of the fridge
Heat some beef stock (Luisa has you dilute it if it's store-bought, but I don't know how necessary that is. See for yourself.)
Add the cabbage.
When it starts bubbling, add 2/3 CUP ARBORIO RICE. (I used this kind, but you know, basically any kind would work, I imagine. I've got some fancy-ass mixed rice thingy that I'll try next time. I'll report back.)
Let this simmer steadily until the rice is done. Mine took about 15 min.
Now for the kicker (and the reason why this recipe rules). Add 2 TBSP BUTTER and a THIRD OF A CUP OF PARMESAN (or some delicious, hard, Italian cheese). Mix this in. Add s and p, as needed. Then dish it out, let it rest a minute, and dig in.
You'll thank me.
Apparently not. I guess that's just the way it goes.
Anyway, I've gone and made another cabbage recipe (it's kind of a two-for-one, actually), and damn, baby, but it's good. So one of the food bloggers I have come to adore (come to think of it, I'll have to add her blog to my roll) is Luisa of the Wednesday Chef. In addition to being gorgeous and exotic, she's running two for two on recipe successes so far.
She also appears to have a thing for cabbages.
So this recipe that I followed actually seems to be two. I wasn't so very wowed by the first one (perhaps being such a cabbage neophyte) and didn't actually even really eat it, since the visions I had dancing in my head of the second part were what was really prodding me on.
And man, was it worth it. Mine was less photogenic than hers (which isn't that photogenic at all), because I went and bought two (TWO!) heads of cabbage, one red and one green. So I wanted to use half of each. And did. And so my dish is grey, and yet still managed to blow my mind, which seems explanation enough of how utterly delicious it is.
It's creamy and rich and cabbagey. This seems almost impossible to me, since I don't necessarily associate cabbages with anything at all, let alone creaminess. But damn, baby. Damn, baby. I think I'm going to whip up another batch just as soon as this one is done.
Plus, Luisa attributes the recipe to Marcella Hazen, who appears to be an icon whose name has not entered my lexicon. I will be making her acquaintance.
Anyway, in a nutshell, this is the recipe.
Part un:
1 cabbage, finely chopped (or not so finely, I suppose)
1 onion, chopped (to your own preference)
Olive oil (Luisa says 1/4 cup, but I might have used less)
Garlic (I always err on the side of excess with garlic, so I added three large cloves, minced)
s, p, wine vinegar (I misread this and used white vinegar - might be why my original recipe was so boring?)
So basically sauté the aromatics in the oil, add the cabbage, toss, add the s, p and vinegar. Lower heat to medium and cover, 1.5 hours or so. This is the dish I didn't eat, but you might really like it, so go nuts.
Part deux:
Take that other batch out of the fridge
Heat some beef stock (Luisa has you dilute it if it's store-bought, but I don't know how necessary that is. See for yourself.)
Add the cabbage.
When it starts bubbling, add 2/3 CUP ARBORIO RICE. (I used this kind, but you know, basically any kind would work, I imagine. I've got some fancy-ass mixed rice thingy that I'll try next time. I'll report back.)
Let this simmer steadily until the rice is done. Mine took about 15 min.
Now for the kicker (and the reason why this recipe rules). Add 2 TBSP BUTTER and a THIRD OF A CUP OF PARMESAN (or some delicious, hard, Italian cheese). Mix this in. Add s and p, as needed. Then dish it out, let it rest a minute, and dig in.
You'll thank me.
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