Chipotle macaroni and cheese with bacon

I’m roasting chiles and frying up bacon. What am I making, you might ask? What everybody wants to eat after being ill for a few days: chipotle macaroni and cheese. With bacon, of course.

OK, so this might seem a bit heavy for a re-entry into the land of the normal eating, but let me tell you—I’m hungry! And while the best thing I can say about not feeling well is that your skinny jeans are suddenly a viable option in your wardrobe, in the end I’d rather be well than ill. Though who wouldn’t? But let’s talk about chipotle macaroni and cheese, shall we?

My family, much like yours I reckon, has always made homemade macaroni and cheese. Sure, we’d have the box stuff on hand for after-school snacks or donations to the church food pantry, but in my house the real, homemade stuff was what was preferred.



Mom makes her macaroni and cheese in a variety of ways, but my favorite is a casserole of pasta suspended in a luscious sauce comprised of egg yolks, cheese and heavy cream. And just when you think it couldn’t be any more extravagant, she throws in diced, thick ham and tops it off with buttery breadcrumbs.

Yes, this is an excellent dish, but because of its richness I only advise serving it on special occasions. When it comes to a more everyday, simple macaroni and cheese, I turn to a method I learned in the New York Times.

This recipe requires little effort besides pouring cottage cheese blended with milk over dry pasta, tossing in some shredded cheese and baking it for an hour. No endless stirring a sauce or boiling a batch of pasta, which makes it a cinch to make. The Times version kept it plain, but I’ve made it my own by adding chipotle and garlic. And I top it with bacon and cotija, which adds contrast to the oozing cheese and soft pasta.



I realize that my macaroni and cheese may appear as decadent as my mom's, but feel free to convince yourself that it’s a touch more healthy due to the cottage cheese and all. I do. But you know what? We’re nearing the end of a long, cold winter and sometimes you just need to pamper yourself. And for me, comfort comes clothed in chipotle chiles, cheese and bacon.

Chipotle macaroni and cheese with bacon (adapted from the NY Times)
Ingredients:
2 cups of dry elbow pasta
2 cups of milk
1 cup of cottage cheese
1 chipotle chile in adobo
1 teaspoon mustard powder
1 clove of garlic, roughly chopped
Pinch of cumin
Salt and black pepper to taste
3 cups of shredded cheese, a mix of cheddar and Monterey Jack
1/4 cup of crumbled cotija cheese (optional, but delicious!)
4 pieces of cooked bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon of butter

Method:
Heat the oven to 375 degrees.

Grease a 9-inch cast-iron skillet or a 9-inch square or round baking pan with the butter. Add the dry pasta.

In a blender, mix together the milk, cottage cheese, chipotle chile, mustard powder, garlic, cumin, salt and black pepper until it’s smooth. Pour mixture over dry pasta and stir until sauce is evenly distributed.

Stir in two cups of the shredded cheese, cover the pan with foil and bake for 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, remove the foil and stir the macaroni and cheese a couple of times. Top with the remaining 1 cup of shredded cheese and chopped bacon and cook for another 25 minutes uncovered or until brown and bubbling.

Remove from oven, sprinkle with cotija and serve.

Note: If you’re not familiar with cotija cheese, it’s a Mexican hard cheese that’s like a cross between feta and parmesan. It’s become increasingly more common, so you can find it at many regular grocery stores and Hispanic markets. And if you live in New York City, I found at Mexicana Bakery in Jackson Heights at 86-06 Roosevelt a wonderful cotija coated in dried chiles. Also, chipotle bacon jam might go dandy with this as well!

Keep reading...

Uncle Austin's Mexican pancakes with coconut

The day before Ash Wednesday? Yep, I’m a pancake eater. I grew up in an Episcopalian family and that’s how we rolled—in warm griddlecakes and cold glasses of milk. And even though most of my friends prepare for Lent in a more colorful style, old traditions are hard to shake and I still enjoy a tall stack of pancakes on Shrove Tuesday.

Pancakes might not be shiny beads, feathered costumes, fevered dancing or boisterous singing, but they don’t have to be completely boring. I’ve been known to serve gingerbread pancakes, buttermilk pancakes, banana nut pancakes and chocolate chip pancakes. But to truly get in the frenzied spirit on the eve of Lent, Uncle Austin’s coconut pancakes (more colorfully known as Uncle Austin's Mexican pancakes) are a definite must.



When I was young, Austin would make these pancakes for us on special occasions. Their main attraction was their size—he’d make one pancake the entire width of a 10-inch pan. And you didn’t even have to share this big baby—no way—this over-sized coconut pancake was all for you!

But incredible heft aside, Austin’s Mexican pancakes were sweet with fresh coconut, and some family members allege that there was chocolate and nuts in them as well.

I asked Austin for his recipe, but he said that not only had he not made these in 30 years, but also that he never really had one. Instead, he just took my grandpa’s basic pancake recipe and dolled it up a bit with the shredded coconut, chunks of brown sugar and extra pats of butter.

Curious why they were known as Mexican pancakes, he admitted that there was nothing authentically Mexican about them, but it was very, very important to be listening to Tejano music, preferably loud, while making them. He stressed, however that the main excitement was in the flipping of the 10-inch pancake—the messier the better!



If you’re celebrating pancake Tuesday, why not try Uncle Austin’s Mexican coconut pancakes—they’re far more adventurous than your usual buttermilk pancakes. And with the Tejano thumping and the pancake batter flying, it may be the most thrilling pancake supper you’ve ever had!

What's your favorite pancake recipe?

Coconut pancakes (Uncle Austin’s Mexican pancakes)
Ingredients:
1 egg
1 1/2 cups of milk
2 cups of flour
1 tablespoon of whole-wheat flour
1 tablespoon of fresh baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup fresh shredded coconut
Juice from one lime (about 2 tablespoons) plus 1/2 teaspoon of lime zest
1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon
4 tablespoons of melted butter

Method:
Beat together the egg and the milk.

Stir in the rest of the ingredients and mix until smooth. If too thick, add more milk

For regular-sized pancakes, pour 1/4 cup of batter onto greased skillet heated at medium low. For Austin-sized pancakes, pour about 1 1/2 cups to 2 cups of batter into pan.

Cook for a few minutes on one side, until edges are brown and bubbles form in batter. Flip and cook on other side a couple more minutes.

Makes about 12 small pancakes or 3 extra-large pancakes.

Note: Chopped pecans and chocolate chips are an excellent addition if you like. Austin recommends serving them with pineapple and I agree. I also top my pancakes with yogurt, but honey or syrup would be dandy as well. And Austin didn’t add limejuice or cinnamon in his original recipe—that was my doing.

Keep reading...

Mexican chocolate pralines

When I was invited to a party where Southern pork dishes were being celebrated, the decision on what to bring was a no-brainer: Mexican chocolate pralines. Now before you call my contribution a little odd, let me explain myself.

My first (and more obvious) choice was to make cookies with lard. I didn’t have any lard on hand, however, so I went to the Union Square farmers’ market to pick up a tub. But a snowstorm had threatened to blanket the city and my preferred lard vendor wasn’t there; clearly, I had to come up with another plan.

I’ve been spending lots of time lately reading old cookbooks. I’m curious to see what our ancestors ate and to see when certain dishes may have come into the common culinary vernacular. When looking for inspiration, I recalled that I had recently come across an old Mexican-candy recipe that called for piloncillo (or brown sugar) to be cooked with water and a strip of raw bacon.



Now, I know bacon in a dessert is a trendy thing these days, but I was intrigued to see it listed in a 100-year-old recipe. And while I didn’t have lard to make cookies, bacon was easily attainable. In another cookbook, I had seen a recipe for Mexican-chocolate pralines. So for the pork-themed feast, I decided to combine the two thoughts and make Mexican-chocolate pralines with bacon.

Making a first-time dish to share at a large gathering is always brave if not foolish. And while the flavor of these pralines was pleasing, the texture was too delicate. So instead of patties thick with pecans and bacon, I had broken chips and shards instead. My pralines looked sad. Plus you couldn’t even really taste the bacon! But I was out of time and couldn’t show up empty handed so I threw the pieces into a tin and headed to the party.

I suppose my offering these praline pieces was the equivalent of a student who shows a failed project to a teacher to prove that she has at least tried to complete the assignment. I gave myself about a C for effort. But then a strange thing happened. While at the party, I witnessed people eating the Mexican-chocolate praline pieces. And they were smiling! With pleasure! So, with a little work I knew I could make the Mexican chocolate pralines into something special.

Buoyed by my friends’ comments, the next day I attempted to make these pralines again. I threw out the bacon (even though it had been the primary impetus to make these in the first place), added more nuts, let the candy cook longer and threw in some orange zest for a hint of brightness. And after an hour of letting the pralines harden, I had a long sheet of parchment paper lined with a fine batch of Mexican chocolate pralines.



If you’re looking for Valentine’s inspiration, these take little time and effort to make but are very impressive (even when they’re not entirely perfect). But you don’t need a special occasion to eat them, as they’re a simple pleasure that can be enjoyed at any time.

Mexican chocolate pralines (adapted from Aprovecho)
Ingredients:
1 disc of Mexican hot chocolate, such as Ibarra
2 oz. of unsweetened baking chocolate
2 cups of pecans, 1 cup chopped and 1 cup whole
1 1/2 cups of sugar
3/4 cup of brown sugar
1/2 cup of milk
6 tablespoons of butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2 teaspoons fresh orange zest or 1 teaspoon dried orange zest
1/4 teaspoon Cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Tools needed:
Candy thermometer
Parchment paper

Method:
In an oven set at 350 degrees, roast the pecans for 10 minutes.

In a large pot, melt together on medium heat the chocolates, sugars, pecans, milk, butter, cinnamon, orange zest, Cayenne and sea salt, stirring occasionally. Place a candy thermometer in the pot to monitor the heat. When it reaches 235 degrees, remove from fire and add the vanilla and stir the pot for two minutes. There should be a bit of shine to the candy but the candy will be a bit more thick.

Scoop pralines onto parchment paper. (If it’s too stiff, add warm water to mixture.) Let cool for an hour and remove. They will still be a bit shiny but will lose that shine after a few hours. No matter, they're still delicious!

Depending on how large your scoops may be, this makes about 20 pralines. They will keep for five days.

Note: If you want to add bacon to these, I’d fry up four slices, crumble them and stir into praline when you add the vanilla.

Keep reading...

Chicken and sausage gumbo

Growing up in Houston, I was no stranger to chicken and sausage gumbo. The city’s close proximity to Louisiana’s Cajun country insured that I knew plenty of kids with family names such as Boudreaux, Guidry or Hebert, whose parents often had a big pot of the chunky soup simmering on the stove. After an afternoon of riding bikes, you could walk into one of these kitchens, grab a bowl and ladle a portion thick with smoky, succulent meats over a pile of rice. Gumbo is good and during the cold months it was almost as prevalent as chili in my part of town.

With the New Orleans Saints going to the Super Bowl for the first time, the decision about what to make on the big day is simple. Sure, quarterback Drew Brees may be a Texan but my Super Bowl plan is to cook a big pot of chicken and sausage gumbo. And while I’ve long been a gumbo eater for some reason, however, I’ve never been much of a gumbo maker. So when I needed advice, I turned to Ken Wheaton.



Ken Wheaton, who lives in Brooklyn but hails from Opelousas, Louisiana, is famous in certain New York City circles for his gumbo. So much that when his editor caught wind of his prowess, he insisted that Ken include his recipe in his excellent new novel, The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival.

Ken’s novel isn’t a food novel, per se. Nope, it’s a story about a confused Catholic priest struggling with his faith and vows. And while that may seem like a heavy topic, in Ken’s hands it’s a humorous, heartfelt story that will make you laugh and might even make you cry. But it will also make you hungry for both Cajun food and culture as Ken deftly captures small-town Louisiana life in all its church-going, Zydeco-dancing and gumbo-making glory. And yes, please note that there’s also lots of swearing, drinking and rabbit-stew eating—it’s not a book for the easily offended.

I won’t get into plot particulars, nor will I delve into any other English-major mumbo jumbo that I probably knew at one point but have long since forgotten. But do know this: Ken is an expert storyteller who has an amazing gift of creating a sense of place. And if you’ve been aching to spend some time in Cajun country with some colorful characters, his book will tide you over until you can enjoy the real thing.

Of course, you can also satisfy your hunger by making a batch of gumbo. Because I like to tinker, I messed with Ken’s method just a bit, but I followed his key rules to not add tomatoes, mushrooms or carrots. And while the word gumbo stems from the Bantu term for okra, kingombo, I didn’t add that as well even though it’s quite common to include it for both flavor and its thickening power.



If you’ve ever been intimidated by making gumbo, as I was, don’t be. The hardest part is making the roux (which I now do in the oven so it’s a snap) and waiting for the soup to be ready. And when you tuck into your bowl filled with a rich broth, smoky sausage and tender chicken, you’ll be happy that you made a batch. Your friends and family will thank you, too.

But enough about me, what are y'all making for the Super Bowl?

Chicken and sausage gumbo (adapted from Ken Wheaton)
Ingredients:
1 four-pound chicken, cut into parts
2 pounds of andouille sausage, sliced
2 onions, 1 diced and 1 cut into quarters
10 cloves of garlic, 5 minced and 5 whole
4 ribs of celery, 3 diced and 1 cut into quarters
2 bell peppers, diced
4 bay leaves
2 sprigs of fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dry
1 bunch of green onions, green part diced
1 cup of canola oil plus a tablespoon
1 cup of flour
1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon of filé powder plus more for serving
Salt, Cayenne and black pepper to taste


Method:
To make your roux, in a large cast iron skillet, mix together the flour and the canola oil. Place in an oven set at 350 degrees, walk away and let it cook for two hours. No hovering, no stirring, no nothing! After a couple of hours, take it out of the oven and it should be chocolate brown. Now, you can also do it the standing over the stove method if you prefer, but I don’t.

While the roux is cooking, make your chicken and broth. First, season your chicken parts generously with salt, black pepper and Cayenne. Place the chicken parts in a large pot with the quartered onions, whole garlic, quartered celery, 2 bay leaves and 8 quarts of water. Bring to a boil and then simmer for an hour and a half, skimming any foam that rises to the surface.

Take the chicken out of the pot and when it’s cool, remove the fat and pick the meat off the bones and cut into pieces. (Be sure and save the bones for another round of stock making.) When the broth is cool, strain and throw out the vegetables. Remove the fat with a gravy separator or by the plastic bag method. To do the latter, you’ll pour the broth into a quart-sized plastic storage bag and once you see the fat rise to the top, snip off a bottom corner and drain it until you reach the fat layer. Do this in batches. You should have about 8 quarts.

Clean your pot (or get another big one if you’re blessed with a large, well-stocked kitchen) and in the bottom of it heat up 1 tablespoon of canola oil. Add the diced onions and let them cook for 10 minutes. Add the chopped celery and bell pepper, cook for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Throw in the minced garlic and cook for a minute. Now stir in the roux and cook it with the vegetables for five minutes, stirring every so often. Add the chicken meat and half of the sliced sausage and cook for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. If things start to get sticky, pour in some water or wine.

Now, slowly whisk in your strained chicken broth to the roux, vegetable, meat mixture. Throw in two more bay leaves, thyne and the Worcestershire, bring to a boil and then simmer for an hour. At this time add the remaining sausage and cook for another hour. Fifteen minutes before it’s done, add the minced green onions and filé powder and check to see if it needs salt, black and Cayenne pepper.

Remove bay leaves and serve over cooked rice with file powder for people to add to their bowls.

Notes: This is a soupy gumbo. If you like it thicker, use less liquid and/or cook it for a lot longer than stated here. Filé (pronounced fee-lay) powder is ground sassafras leaves and a dash of it will also help thicken it. If you’re feeling wild, replace the canola oil with bacon grease. Ken also adds tasso (a Cajun ham) to his chicken and sausage gumbo, but I couldn’t find that here in NYC. If you’re in that predicament, however, Ken suggests ordering your sausage and tasso from his hometown butcher, Kelly's Country Meat Block & Diner (Toll free 1-866-948-MEAT). He says, "I usually order pure pork sausage, but lots of people are fans of the half&half (beef and pork). The andouille is killer. The tasso is awesome. They also have rabbits, too!" Or he likes to use Bruce Aidell’s andoille sausage, as he believes it has an authentic flavor. He also prefers cooking up only chicken thighs and skipping the whole broth-making step and just adds water to the pot as he lets his pot of gumbo simmer forever. Do this if you prefer.

Full disclosure: Ken’s my friend and I’ve been watching him write this novel for many years, so you can take what I say about it with a grain of salt. That said please know I would never recommend something unless I loved it and thought y’all might love it, too.

Keep reading...