Hatch chile apple cobbler

Last weekend, I flew home to Texas for a family wedding. It was the Aggie branch of my family—a group that not only lives near College Station but they all also attended Texas A&M, a tradition began by my great-uncle Stewart who was an English professor at A&M back in the day.

The wedding was held in downtown Bryan, which is a charming small Texas town. Like many communities that have revitalized their center, it’s bustling with life and beautiful architecture. For a wedding, it was a perfect location as we were able to walk from the church to the reception and then to the hotel where we all spent the night.

Of course, the real joy of the wedding was spending time with my family. From enjoying Saturday-morning migas with my mom, to flapping our arms as we did the chicken dance at the reception—it was one of those perfect weekends that’s hard to describe with words or images. It just was.



It’s Hatch chile season, and when I booked my ticket to Houston for the wedding, I realized it cost the same for me to fly into Houston as it did to add a segment into El Paso, which is about an hour and a half away from Hatch, New Mexico. I’d always been curious to see the chiles at the source, so it was an easy decision to spend a day or so in West Texas.

When I told my family what I was doing, my mom said, “You do know that they have Hatch chiles at Central Market.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “But I want to see where they come from.”

She shrugged and looked at me like I was a little nuts. I didn’t think too much about it. Instead, I ate wedding cake, joined a conga line, and ended up having one of the finest evenings of my life.



Of course, after a loving, warm gathering such as my cousin’s wedding, spending time alone in the arid desert of West Texas and Southern New Mexico—no matter how stunning its rugged beauty—is destined to feel a bit lonely. Now don’t get me wrong, I am the kind of person who thrives on striking out on my own. And I’ve often found that time in West Texas with its big sky and vast landscape is just what I need to decompress from my hectic New York City life. But this time, it felt a little too barren after the warm embrace of my family. A part of me wished I’d stayed those extra days with them instead.

My brief time in Texas reinforced how precious our time with loved ones can be. When I returned to New York, I wanted to make a dish with my Hatch chiles that reminded me of home, so I decided to make a Hatch chile apple cobbler. Apple and chiles are a perfect pair, and those first August apples always remind me of my grandma’s farm, when her trees are heavy with fruit.



While eating this cobbler isn’t quite the same as doing line dances with my Aggie cousins, their love is there in spirit, which for me is always the next best thing.

Hatch chile apple cobbler
For the filling:
2 to 4 Hatch green chiles (about 4 to 8 ounces, depending on how spicy you want it)
4 Granny Smith apples (about 1 3/4 pounds), peeled, cored and diced
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
2 teaspoons brown sugar

For the crust:
1 stick of unsalted butter
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
Pinch of salt
1 cup whole milk

For serving:
Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, if you like

Method:
Roast the chiles under the broiler until blackened, about 5 minutes per side. Place chiles in a paper sack or plastic food-storage bag, close it tight and let the chiles steam for 20 minutes. Take the chiles out of the bag and rub off the skin. Remove seeds and stems and dice. 
Toss the diced chiles with the diced apples, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and brown sugar.

Preheat the oven to 350. To make the crust, in a large cast-iron skillet, melt the butter on low heat. Once melted, turn off the heat. Stir together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and milk until a batter is formed. Pour the batter over the butter and do not stir. Spread evenly on top the diced chiles and apples, and bake uncovered for 45 minutes or until brown and bubbling. I eat it warm right of the pan, but it’s also good with a dollop of whipped cream or ice cream, if you prefer.

Note: If you don’t have access to Hatch chiles, you can use regular Anaheim chiles. You can also substitute 2 jalapeño chiles or 1 poblano chile.

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Tomato and cucumber salad with cornbread croutons

My first experience with panzanella, or bread salad, was at a late summer outdoor gathering many years ago in Texas. At the time, I was a little suspicious of the salad, as I thought that the large chunks of bread would be strange and soggy as they mingled with the juicy tomatoes and crisp cucumbers. But actually, it turned out to be brilliant. If you’re the kind of person who enjoys sopping up oil and vinegar with crusty bread, then this was your kind of dish.

When I heard about cornbread salad, my assumption was that it would recreate that Italian tomato and cucumber salad that I loved, with cornbread croutons standing in for the day-old bread. When I finally encountered it, however, I discovered that the Southern dish known as cornbread salad is usually layers of beans, corn, tomatoes, cheese, mayonnaise and, of course, crumbled cornbread served in a large, glass bowl.



That cornbread salad was good, but not exactly what I had in mind. Because of the heat, I was in the mood for something less rich that could showcase the glory of summertime tomatoes. My ideal salad would be lightly dressed tomatoes and cucumbers tossed with a handful of cornbread croutons.

While doing some reading, I stumbled upon a Frank Stitt recipe that almost created the salad I had been thinking about. It was the classic panzanella with only one change—he used cornbread instead of yeast bread. This was a good starting point, but I decided that if I was going to use cornbread I might as well make the rest of the salad taste Texan, too.

To make the transformation, I replaced the bell peppers with jalapeños, the basil with cilantro, and made a simple vinaigrette with just olive oil, lime juice, cumin and cayenne. For my salad, I went with colorful heirloom tomatoes because they remind me of the tomatoes my grandma grows at her farm. (Though if you don’t have access to heirloom tomatoes, any ripe in-season tomato will work just as well.) And to make the salad a bit more decadent, I showered the tomatoes and cucumbers with salty Cotija cheese. It all came together beautifully.

But the final piece of the dish—the cornbread croutons—ended up being a bit trickier. On my first attempt, I added them when the salad was marinating, but they soon turned to mush. After some experimenting, I learned the best way for them to stay solid was to add them right before serving. The cornbread croutons will still soak up some of the dressing, but they take on the bright fire of the jalapeños, which is always a welcome thing.



While cornbread is what inspired this salad, it’s the juicy, sweet tomatoes that are the true star. Besides the fresh flavors, what I love about this salad is how quickly it comes together, making it great for either a barbecue or a weeknight supper. But if you decide to make this, much like pico de gallo, you’ll want to make it now when tomatoes are at their best and brightest.

Tomato and cucumber salad with cornbread croutons
1 cucumber, peeled and cubed
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more taste
2 pounds ripe tomatoes, seeded and cubed
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/8 medium red onion, diced (about 2 tablespoons)
2 jalapeños, seeds and stems removed, diced
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 tablespoon lime juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
4 cups cubed (1-inch) cornbread (preferably day old)
1/4 cup Cotija cheese, crumbled

Method:
Sprinkle the cubed cucumber with 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and allow to sit refrigerated for at least 45 minutes so some of the liquid can be extracted.

Meanwhile, combine tomatoes, garlic, onion, jalapeños and cilantro. Whisk together lime juice, olive oil, cumin and cayenne and stir into tomatoes. Marinate in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Arrange cornbread cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake uncovered for 15- 20 minutes, or until dry and crisp.

Drain the cucumbers and toss with the tomatoes. Adjust seasonings and add salt to taste. (Wait to salt the salad until after adding the cucumbers because the cucumbers will be salty.) Top with crumbled Cotija cheese, and serve with cornbread croutons on the side, since the croutons will get soggy if they sit in the salad for too long.

Yield: 4 servings

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Spicy red onion jam

Have ever bought an ingredient just because it’s so darn pretty? That happened to me at the farmers market this week—I saw a basket of red onions and was dazzled by their deep color and delicate texture. They were exquisite and while I didn’t need them, I sure did want them. So I paid the farmer and proudly brought the basket home.

Then it occurred to me—what am I going to do with all these onions?

We eat a lot of onions in my family. My grandma grows them at her farm, and is always tossing them into dishes—raw or cooked. My mom is also an onion fanatic. If you ever hear her talk about her favorite Tex-Mex dish, you’d swear that the cheese enchiladas were merely a vehicle for her true desire—that shower of diced, white onions on top.



With an onion-loving lineage such as that, it’s kind of strange that I didn’t embrace them until later in life. Growing up, if a few onions made it onto my plate I’d quickly pass them to someone else. Fortunately, those dark days are long gone and it’s a rare meal where I don’t do something with an onion.

That said, when confronted with so many, I was stumped as to why I thought it was a good idea to bring them home. Onions last a long time and it’s a rare savory recipe that doesn’t call for them. But my kitchen is tiny with little storage space; I needed a way to use a lot, fast. When exploring my options, I considered making soup or a tart until a friend said, “You should make red onion jam.”

And you know what? She was correct.

There are countless recipes out there for onion jam and I took inspiration from one I found from Texas Monthly. One thing that struck me as strange about most recipes is that they called for brown sugar. I decided to scratch that ingredient, as I find slow cooked onions are plenty sweet on their own. But I do like a little heat with my sweetness, so I threw in some chipotle chiles to give the onion jam some spice and spark.

Have you ever cooked something and been unable to stop tasting it? Yep, that was me with this jam, and as it neared the end of the cooking process, I kept marveling at how a huge pile of onions could reduce to something so rich, sweet and savory. This stuff is good.



So what do you do with spicy red onion jam? Well, it’s a natural partner with roasted or grilled meats, and would be incredible on a cheeseburger, a steak or even a cheese quesadilla. And if you stir it into softened cream cheese, goat cheese or sour cream, you will have just made the world’s best onion dip.

Though, if you’re like me, you might find yourself eating it straight from the jar with a spoon.

Spicy red onion jam
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 pounds red onions, peeled and sliced into slivers
4 cloves garlic, sliced
2 chipotle chiles in adobo, diced
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
Salt to taste

Method:
On low heat, heat the oil in a large skillet. Add the onions and garlic, and while occasionally stirring, cook for 10 minutes or until softened.

Cover the skillet, and cook for 20 more minutes, stirring once. Uncover the skillet and add the chipotle chiles, balsamic vinegar and cayenne. Stirring often, cook until the vinegar is reduced and onions are softened and a dark, red brown, about 10-15 minutes. Add salt to taste. Serve warm or at room temperature. Will keep in the refrigerator for 2 weeks.

Yield: about 1/2 pint

Note: You can add more chipotle chiles if you want it to be hotter.

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