Comunidad Health Foods

It’s time to say farewell to jicama and transition to a completely different food: chicken. I really haven’t been on much of a meat kick lately, but I did make these Thai Chicken Sandwiches a few weeks ago and my parents both loved them. It isn’t that I dislike the taste of chicken, or that I thought these sandwiches were bad – trust me, even if my parents raved about them, they wouldn’t be on here unless I thought they were good, too – I just can’t seem to get excited about them. In fact, while I was eating the meal, I kept wondering how the sandwich would taste with Thai tofu instead. Or a Thai chickpea patty. Ok, that one I just thought of now, but it sounds awesome.

Really, this chicken sandwich is pretty tame. The chicken itself has a mild flavor but is cooked well, giving it a great texture, and most of the toppings add more to texture than flavor too (cucumbers, mostly). It’s the Thai curry paste that makes this dish, and you can use as little or as much as you like depending on your heat preference. I slathered the condiment on before I was satisfied, whereas my family used a much smaller amount and still could taste it. Really, for such a self-proclaimed foodie, my taste buds appear to be pretty lame.

I paired the sandwich with a Thai broccoli salad, which was good but not outstanding. I found myself wishing for more dressing and a slightly softer broccoli component. Maybe just chopping the broccoli more finely would work but I wouldn’t be beyond actually trying to steam it a little, too. I used soy sauce and stevia in the dressing, but aside from that, really stuck to the original – which you can find over at Kalyn’s Kitchen.

I also made homemade rolls for the occasion, which were a labor of (pretty inactive) love. They’re called three day crusty rolls because you start them before bed on day 1 and don’t bake them until day 3. It’s a very hands-off process, though, and they came out with a pretty excellent texture. The whole wheat flavor was even pretty well masked, so that no one complained that I didn’t use all-purpose. Which inevitably happens when I try to whole wheat-ify everything I make. The only thing that I didn’t do perfectly with these guys was to make them big enough – for sandwiches, you really shouldn’t try to make any more than 6 rolls out of 1 batch. You can find that recipe at Andrea’s Recipes. If I ever tweak it beyond just substituting in whole wheat flour, I’ll consider putting it on the blog, but for now, this really isn’t my recipe at all and Andrea deserves the traffic and credit.

Yield: 4 servings

Prep Time: 5 minutes plus time for marinating (1-4 hours)

Cook Time: 20 minutes

(printable recipe)

2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon lemon zest

2 teaspoons sesame oil

¼ cup lime juice

2 regular (thick) chicken breasts

4 (whole grain)rolls, for serving

½ cucumber, sliced, for serving

Thai curry paste, for serving¹

Whisk together the ginger, garlic, zest, oil, and lime juice in a shallow dish or pie plate. Halve each chicken breast and add all four pieces to the dish. Turn to coat both sides with the marinade, then cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour (I did four; the recipe says 15 minutes).

Heat a grill pan, lightly coated with cooking spray, over medium-high heat. When hot, add the chicken breasts and sear, 4 minutes per side. Lower the heat to medium and continue cooking for another 6-7 minutes per side, until the breasts have cooked through fully.

Serve with rolls, cucumber, and Thai curry paste.

Today is National Caviar Day, the epitome of haute-cuisine and food snobbery, so naturally I planned to write about one of the least sophisticated recipes you could possibly imagine. French Toast is what happens when old food and stinginess come together in one kitchen. Sure, you can get fancied up versions at some of the most upscale brunch venues, but deep down, you know what French Toast is. It’s stale bread made edible with some cheaper still ingredients – eggs and milk. Who would have thought that stubbornness to not waste old food could lead to such a delicious meal? 

It all started last Friday night when we pulled half a loaf of homemade challah (yes, I am holding out on the recipe – I’m still trying to tweak it to get it just right) out of the freezer from 2 weeks before, since all of this internship prep work has left little time for experiments in the kitchen. After one bite, I wrinkled my nose and shook my head – the freezer had not been kind to these slices of once-delicious, eggy bread. There was only one solution: quickly swap out the old challah for a fresher (though not homemade) loaf of bread, and transform the stale bread into French Toast for a leisurely, frugal Saturday morning breakfast the next day.

I found a quick recipe on Eliza Domestica for overnight French toast casserole, which seemed the perfect way to ensure that the challah became fully saturated with the liquid in the recipe, and changed it slightly in the hopes of making a more exotic dish. Within about five minutes I had the casserole in the fridge, ready for the next day. I dirtied 1 liquid measuring cup and about 2 measuring spoons, plus the dish that I baked the casserole in the next morning. If I ever were to have a big group of people over to stay, or for a mid-morning brunch, this is the recipe I would turn to. No questions asked.

It was supposed to be tropical: coconut-almond milk, rum extract, you know. Fancy French Toast. My mom swears she tastes the coconut, but L and I are convinced that she’s just one of those super tasters. You can’t get anything past her. To us, it just tasted like French toast. Delicious French toast, but definitely not Fancy French Toast.  L says he prefers his mom’s, but I think the fact that it came in casserole form and didn’t look like regular French toast weirded him out a little bit; I got a little upset but didn’t let it stop me from enjoying several slices. It’s not overly sweet on its own – but a drizzle of syrup or a pile of fresh fruit (try pineapple chunks and shredded coconut to bring out the tropical flavors I was going for!) is all it needs to make it complete. And once you bite into it, I don’t think you’ll care that deep down, this French toast is more frugal than fancy. 

Most of Rachael Ray’s recipes are fuss-free. They’re straight-up, straight-forward, and downright simple. Mostly. I like this about her recipes. Sometimes, I like putting on heirs and pretending I’m some gourmet chef who owns half a dozen Zagat-rated, 5 star restaurants peppering the entire globe. Like when I decided to make that ridiculously elaborate graduation cake. But a lot of times, it’s just nice to get in the kitchen, throw around some pots, pans, and ingredients, and come out with something perfectly edible though perhaps not all that photogenic.

I was a little surprised, then, when I encountered this recipe in Rachael Ray’s cookbook – couscous and vegetable stacks seemed entirely too fussy amidst the burgers, “sammies,” “stoups” and semi-homemade (oh wait, that’s another FoodNetwork show…) desserts. As good as the dish sounded, it took a while for me to get up the motivation to attempt it.

Rachael Ray’s approach to the stacking process is cumbersome, and antiquated as it tells you to use metal cans with their tops and bottoms removed. Cans aren’t made that way anymore – the bottoms don’t come off. Believe me, I tried. And tried. And handed the can to my mom to try some more. Don’t bother. Really, it’s way more involved than it needs to be. In the final throes of cooking, as I became more and more desperate to get food on the plate and into my belly, I did the biggest hack job of stacking I could think of – I just threw it on the plate. Almost, very nearly, quite literally. And you know what?

It worked. Beautifully.

So take that, Mr. Fussy Veggie Stack. This is how we do things Floptimism style.

Also à la Floptimism, I changed a bunch of the ingredients. It tasted fantastic. I also paired it with some chicken (for the parents) and a nice chickpea and almond salad (for all of us, but really, mostly for me).

This vegetarian dish is light, healthy, and bursting with summer-ness. That is, it would, if it were possible for a food to burst of a season. It is mildly labor intensive, but a lot easier to put together than the original and overall very doable. Enjoy!

 

I don’t make soup all that often, but I do make chili. I’ve even made it in the dead-heat of summer in an un-air-conditioned beach house, so it’s not uncommon for me to bring this well-loved dish into the warmer months. To me, it’s one of the perfect comfort foods, and unlike lasagna, macaroni-and-cheese, fried chicken and cream of ____ soup, it doesn’t have to kill your good dietary intentions – that means it earns double points in my book. I can only indulge in heavy, cheesy casseroles so often before I feel like my stomach is a bag of bricks – mushy, cheesy bricks.

Now that we’ve established that image, let’s get back to the task at hand – this turkey chili adapted from Rachael Ray. It’s simple, though not the kind of simple I was talking about on Tuesday. It’s got some heat behind it, enough to make me smile but not enough to make my mom push her bowl away politely. It was also really fast and easy to make, and keeps the dirty dishes to a minimum (a must if you’ve ever witnessed the aftermath of my cooking endeavors). The only change I would make would be to get rid of some (or all) of the turkey and swap in some crumbled tofu and beans. I’m not-so-slowly moving towards total veggie-dom, so lately I’ve been treating meat as a side dish. In this meal, it’s definitely the main ingredient, and I know some people will like that. It does keep it low-carb, if that interests you. Plus, I think ground turkey breast is some of the leanest meat out there (the original called for ground pork), so if you’re up for omnivorism, it’s still a pretty healthy choice. We can’t all be veggie-vores, right?

I made a healthy cornbread for dunking/topping/side-ing, after Rachael’s recipe instructed me to make corn cakes via a box mix. Right. So I thought it’d be the perfect opportunity to try one of the several cornbread recipes I have saved, and figured starting off with a healthy one would be good. The recipe comes from Food Stories, and it has several perks – it’s vegan (not that that matters if you’re pairing it with a turkey chili like I did – though it does mean my dad, who doesn’t mix meat and dairy, could enjoy it), easy to make, and does taste like cornbread. However, there is no mistaking this for its full-fat, full-sugar, down-home-cookin’ original. It tastes healthy, so I’m still on a hunt for a spot-on recipe. But this is good to keep in your back pocket. All I did to change the recipe was to add chives (as Rachael asked me to – or, well, she asked me to add scallions and I said absolutely not, I don’t have any, but I do have chives) and reduce the baking time to 15 minutes (all it needed). It finished baking just as I was finishing up with the chili, so dinner was ready in one fell swoop.

 

I also want to say that I had the honor of being one of Lauren (of NutriSavvy)’s 15 nominees for the Versatile Blogging Award! There’s a whole bunch of fun questions and pay-it-forward type nominations that I’m supposed to do, but I didn’t do a Thirty Minute Thursday post last week so I wanted to at least get today’s entry in. I will spend the next day or so thinking about all of the amazing food bloggers I watch (some from afar, admittedly), and be back. I just wanted to make sure I thanked Lauren before too many days went by! And if you haven’t checked out her blog, you should!

Do you think that “plain” is a negative word? I know it has its connotations – Plain Jane, plain looking – but for me, it really isn’t an inherently bad adjective. I get into a little bit of trouble sometimes when I go to refer to something as plain without intending it to be interpreted as a bad thing. For example, plain food. That sounds bad, right? But it doesn’t have to be. It could just mean simple. Clean. Some people get offended when I call a food plain, or if I say that they tend to enjoy plainer foods. Apparently, it can be synonymous with bland – and that, my friends, is inherently negative. But as my 12^th grade English teacher said, there’s no such thing as a synonym.

An overcooked chicken without anything on it is bland. Mashed potatoes are bland. Those really cool rice puffs from Wegmans or Whole Foods, without peanut butter spread on them, are very bland.

But a bowl of fresh pasta drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil is plain. A homemade dinner roll fresh from the oven is plain. Even a well-cooked fillet of tilapia with a side of steamed vegetables and a spritz of lemon juice is plain.

This Chickpea and Vegetable Penne Toss is also plain, but if you think that’s a reason not to make it (again and again and again), you would be sorely mistaken. This recipe is simple anddelicious. It’s far from extravagant, yet one of the most perfect meals I can think of around this time of year. It’s filling and quick to make, too.  And no one – and I mean no one – will call it bland. 

 

I think I might be on a sugar high from all of these desserts I’ve been telling you about lately! 13 dozen cookies, the most outrageous layer cake I’ve ever made, Nutella FroYo – is it just me, or can you feel your pancreas begging you to give it and its poor insulin-generating cells a bit of a break? What do you mean, your pancreas doesn’t talk to you? Oh, nevermind…

To hush my internal organs and prevent them from staging an uprising, and to hopefully do the same for any of you with equally unruly body parts, I have something that is not at all a dessert. In fact, it can even be low-carb if you want it to be (as in, if you don’t decide that serving it with a side of warm, crusty Italian bread isn’t an absolutely fantastic idea), so we’re really pulling a 180 here.  You’re welcome.

I’m kidding.

No but really, these pizza portobellos are fabulous and the perfect remedy for a prolonged period of culinary indulgences. As it stands, it’s not vegetarian, but don’t let that dampen your spirits too much, all of my veggie-vore readers. Take out the turkey entirely or swap it with a crumbled veggie burger instead – I’ll bet most people will hardly know the difference. I used a turkey burger because that’s what I had. In fact, I described this dish in my notes as meaty, and I wasn’t even talking about the burger – I was talking about the mushroom. This dish is also kind of warm and comforting, so maybe wait until this heat wave rolls on by (come to think of it, a clean, crisp salad would have made a more seasonally appropriate blog detox than this, but alas, I’m doing the best with the busy hand I’ve been dealt) before hunkering down in your kitchen to make this. The good news is that if you’re not cooking for a crowd, you could totally make this on the stovetop and bake it in the toaster oven, no full oven heat required….which means no excuses. Unless you don’t own a toaster oven. In which case I need to ask why…no, no, that soapbox should be saved for another day.

 

I have a secret to tell you, but before I do, you have to promise that you won’t point, laugh, and shun me for it. I can’t handle having to sport a branded letter on my arm, signifying to the world the truth. You see, I have this thing. With red meat. No, not making sure it’s grass fed. I mean, yes, there’s that, but that almost sounds normal compared with this other thing. This thing that’s totally bizarre-o and so not appropriate for a gourmand foodie such as myself (don’t laugh). Here goes…

If you sit me down at a table and place 2 plates in front of me, one showcasing a $35 perfectly cooked steak dinner and the other featuring a big, juicy, $5 homecooked burger…I will turn a cold shoulder to that steak before you can even say, “and how would you like your steak cooked, madam?” I actually don’t like steak, and trust me, I have had some really top notch cuts in my life. It makes only eating grass-fed beef much more affordable and manageable, since I can watch people eating steaks left and right and not get jealous, and I don’t burn a hole in my wallet trying to ethically satisfy some red meat craving all the time.

The fact that I don’t really like steak very much means something else: I basically never cook it. I barely know how. I’ve handled raw red meat I think twice in my life, and one of them was just last week. I’m a total amateur, but that’s ok. Because if I can conquer the red-meated beast, so can you. And I even went first, so you get to learn from all of my silly mistakes.

Mistake #1: Believing that you can at a whim stop by your local Whole Foods market and find the exact cut of beef that you need…in grass-fed form. Result: what was originally intended to be a Memorial Day cook out was postponed until Whole Foods’ next shipment came in…2 days later.

Mistake #2: Believing the recipe when it tells you that after 5 brief minutes per side, your full steak will not be an absolute bloody mess when you cut into it. Put that thing back on the grill, seriously! (As a side note, I know people who actually would’ve loved how rare – virtually uncooked – the meat was at this time interval, so if you’re one of those people, ignore this. If you like your meat more towards medium-rare, maybe 7 minutes per side. And if you like it well-done…just slice the darn thing and cook it that way. You’ll save yourself a ton of grief.)

Ok, so really, that’s not so bad, right? I also made a few really fantastic judgment calls when making these sandwiches. First, I decreased the amount of meat called for in general – ½ pound per person is just ridiculous, especially for a sandwich. I went with 1.5lb for 4 people and even then had leftovers – I think this sandwich is intended to be piled high with meat, and that’s just not my (or my family’s) style. Ok, it’s a little bit my family’s style, but they were following my lead and I made my sandwich first. Ha!

Overall, this is a good sandwich. I don’t know if it’s phenomenal enough to warrant Rachael Ray’s title, “Tony Soprano’s Steak Sandwich.” I mean, those are big shoes for a sandwich to fill. Still, it was tasty; I think it just needed one more element to really put it over the top. I also secretly think that turning it into burger form would make it even better, but shh! The Red Meat Snobs are going to bludgeon me for such blasphemy, so let’s keep that little recommendation between us.

You could buy jarred giardiniera for the relish, as the recipe states, but then why would you, when 100 pages later in the exact same cookbook she teaches you how to make your own? Just don’t make the whole thing – the recipe said it made 1 quart, and the sandwiches called for 1 quart – but one of those two yields was way off because I’ve basically been eating leftover giardiniera for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a week straight and still have about a cup left. The recipe below makes the full batch, but I’m pretty sure you could halve it and still have enough to pile 4 sandwiches to the sky with it. I found the recipe to be a little bit too sweet, but I’ve left the sugar content alone because I don’t know how much you could reduce it without affecting the pickling ability of the solution. And it’s really only too sweet when you eat big spoonfuls on its own (really, I wasn’t kidding, I made way too much…); on the sandwich it adds a nice balance to the savory steak.

So maybe this isn’t Tony Soprano’s steak sandwich, but I liked it, my dad liked it (ok my dad had his without any veggies and with ketchup, but he’s a Philadelphian, can you blame him?), L liked it, my mom liked it. It may not be mob-approved, but it’s certainly us-approved, and as I said before…I don’t even like steak! I mean…what?

 

Tomorrow is National Egg Day. I repeat: tomorrow is National Egg Day.  Finally, I have an excuse to gush on and on to you about the wonder of eggs and egg dishes. Ok, really, I won’t gush on and on – but I do have an egg-centric recipe to tell you about, and I thought leading into tomorrow’s “holiday” was a perfect time.

How many of you buy fresh broccoli? How many of you chop off those annoying stalks and toss them in the trash?

Yeah, I thought so. It’s tempting, right? I mean, what the heck are you supposed to do with those fibrous, tough sticks that hold up the “good part” of the veggie, anyway?

The answer to that question is simple: plenty! I was buying a fair share of broccoli and kept throwing the stalks in the freezer, convinced that there had to be another use for them. I hate throwing food away. I finally did some research when my bag of stalks was ready to burst, and found that if you just peel off the extra tough outer edge, broccoli stalks are actually pretty neat ingredients, and not just for boring soups. That would’ve been a good tip for before I froze them, but I’ve since learned my lesson.

And thus, this broccoli stalk omelet was born. It tastes like garlicky broccoli and eggs, not some concoction of weird, foreign ingredients you’ve never had before. You may not have ever eaten the stalk before, but if you’re a broccoli lover, then this dish shouldn’t take much convincing. The key is to just patiently give the chopped stalks a sufficient amount of time in the pan to become tender. When you mix those with slightly browned bread crumbs and a very healthy dose of garlic, you get an appreciable depth of flavor that isn’t always expected from the humble little omelet.

So the next time you find yourself with some leftover broccoli stalks, give this a try!

Savory Baked Eggs with Vegetables (LC)