Salmon Quiche with Bacon, Asparagus and Goat Cheese (crustless)

Hmmm.  Facelift, you say?  Clearly, that seemed like work.

But!  While our gourmet dinner club flounders, I have an exciting new inspiration I'll be sharing soon that will hopefully kick-start my sharing in 2015!

What's going on now?  Well, my cooking group is having attendance issues--this is life for adults who work full time, try to go back to school and have, you know, lives beyond that.  I was gifted a trip to an excellent cooking school class booked in the new year and THAT'S very exciting.  And I've been talking about blogs a bunch for unrelated reasons.  It was all bound to come full circle.

In the mean time, have leftovers to get rid of?  I did.  (And not the Christmas kind.  Yet.)  Apparently two people don't take apart 2.5 lbs of salmon very quickly.  Quiches are great because they're incredibly durable, flexible, easy to transport and warm and generally just an extremely forgiving dish.

A note on the quiche itself: You're welcome to put this in a pie shell.  That's just never my favorite part and I'd rather shift those calories into delicious fillings.  Speaking of fillings, this quiche is salmon-heavy.  You could probably reduce the salmon by an ounce or even two and still end up with a very nice quiche.

Further, say you don't want salmon in here.  You cooked two chickens last Wednesday and you've got a carcass you need to strip.  Use that.  (Or, duh, that Christmas turkey.  I did one early turkey dinner already and some of it went into a version of this quiche with red peppers.)  And it's winter so you want to know why I inserted asparagus - go ahead and use peppers and mushrooms.  You don't like goat cheese.  Sub in swiss.  I think you see where I'm going here.

If you want to freeze the quiche, bake it, let it cool completely, and put it very well-wrapped (and flat; it will break or squish if you manipulate before frozen) into the freezer.  When the time comes, reheat from frozen at 325 for 20-30 minutes with a foil cover so it doesn't over-brown.



 Salmon Quiche with Bacon, Asparagus and Goat Cheese (crustless)

9 oz cooked salmon

4 rashers bacon

6-8 stalks asparagus

1 green onion, sliced thin

1/2 cup goat cheese

1 1/2 tsp pepper

1 tsp salt

5 eggs

1/4 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup milk

Preheat the oven to  375 F.

Break salmon into hunks (doesn't need to be precisely bite-sized; you'll cut it into servings as well).  Your asparagus stalks depend on how thick they are.  Eyeball it!  Then chop them into 1/2 inch sections.

Place salmon, bacon, veggies and cheese into one large bowl.  Don't break up your goat cheese too much--the real flavor impact of goat cheese will get lost if it's in tiny pieces.  Crack over the pepper and add salt.

In a second bowl, whisk eggs, cream and milk.  I was going for a mid-range cream consistency as there was extra whipping cream and we drink skim.  You could alternatively use 1/2 cup 10% cream OR I've even tried 5% when I realized I was nearly out of dairy and it worked just fine as well.  Mouthfeel will change, overall presentation or edibility of the dish will not.

Pour the whisked egg mixture over the other ingredients and stir to coat very gently.

Pour everything into a buttered 9" pie plate.  I use a pyrex dish and it comes out very nicely but you could put down parchment if you're concerned about sticking.

Bake for approximately 45 minutes or until the top is brown and the center isn't wiggling like custard.

If you chose to freeze the quiche, pop it in the freezer after it's come to room temperature.  Remember not to let it bend or get squished until it's frozen solid.  To reheat later,  use a throwaway pie plate and bake from frozen, covered in foil to keep from over-browning, at 400 for 25-30 minutes.

Yes, You Heard Me--Lard!

I'm working hard to get into the head-to-tail movement.  I have enormous respect for the folks who already do this.  The fact is, however, that tripe and sweetbreads and brains still weird me out.  Most of you are probably not surprised and, in fact, are nodding your heads.  

What we can do as average home cooks who find lacy caul fat a little scary is make sure we make the most of what we do take home.  Figure out how to use the cheaper or unusual cuts to make them palatable (ham hocks); figure out how many ways the resultant by-products useful (jus) and never just chuck a bunch of bones (stocks).

For me, the next step involves getting into fat.

Is fat flavor?  Yes, absolutely.  Do I make involuntary faces biting into a quarter-inch hunk of white jello?  One hundred percent.

Don't get me wrong.  I love me some bacon.  Crisped-up fat edging a good pork chop is bliss.  Without tallow, hamburgers would be awfully sad, and a slick of schmaltz over roasted vegetables is a thing of bliss.

Quick lesson--

Schmaltz is chicken fat.
Tallow is beef fat.
Lard is lovely ol' pork fat.

I encourage you today to take stock of the excess fats in your kitchen.  They're easy to store, keep for a good long while, lend great flavors to your sear or sautee and have a medium-high smoke point.  That is to say, they'll burn long after butter, but you don't want to use them in a stir-fry.

Tallow skimmed off the top of cooled beef stock.

So where are the fats in your kitchen commonly found?

Real heritage pork chops, not the kind you find on sale for a dollar at your local chain grocery, have a good round of fat on them.  Even I, who like a little fat, do not want the whole quarter inch from those chops.  Cut it off and save it--what to do is coming.

Chicken fat off a roast can be saved.  Same with beef.  You may already leave the fat on the top of a bowl of homemade stock to seal it.  When you break it, do you just chuck the creamy layer on top?  You could skim that and hold on to it as well.  Fats from beef or chicken stocks are especially good used as the lubrication to soften your soup veggies in--you're adding a layer of flavor you're already trying to highlight in a chicken noodle or beef and barley.  I always boil my smoked ham hock before tearing it up for some Split Pea and Ham soup--the fat off the top of that cooled liquid has all the smokey, salty, piggy flavor of the original meat itself.  Why would you use vegetable oil when you can hug your diced onions with smoked hock taste?

Alright, you've sold me.  Now what do I do with those hunks of fat you told me to cut off my meat?

Well, friend, it's time to render fat.  This method can be used with any fats you have around but in my household, generally speaking pork is the product I buy with any "real" amount of excess fat on it that I'll remove before even cooking.

Rendering Fat

Note: With this scrap method, you will not have lard you can use to make pastry unless you like meat-flavored pastries.  Leaf lard is required from a pig to make snowy-white, non-meaty rendered lard and that's not what you'll be cutting off your porkchops.

fat
water
cheesecloth


You can do this with any amount of fat you like--photos here show the fat off of two well-fed pork chops.  Just two!  And I had enough resulting lard to slick a number of pans.

Take the fat you've removed from the chops and cut into small (a large dice is optimal for me) pieces.  Try to keep the pieces as uniform as possible; this will help an even rendering process.  The fat does not need to be completely meat-free; you don't have to scrape it clean. 

Place fat in a small pot and cover with at least an inch of water.  This doesn't need to be precise but it should be more generous than not.  Bring water to a gentle simmer.  Let the pot simmer, uncovered, for a while.

"A while" depends on the quantity of fat you're rendering.  Check it every twenty minutes or so to ensure it's not actually boiling--the water is there to insulate the fat with an even cooking temperature and render down the solids into smearable liquids.  The water eventually steams off and you're left with just the rendered lard.

You can tell the fat is rendered when it colors.  It will start to shrink and become golden just like fat you fry.  Little bits may float off and hang out at the surface.  Stir your pot once in a while to ensure the pieces aren't sticking to the bottom.

When the fat is totally shrunk and golden, you've rendered as much as you can out of it.  Place a cheesecloth over a sieve to ensure you catch even those little floating brown bits.  These would burn in further cooking and shouldn't be a part of your final lard.  Remember that fat can get hotter than boiling water--be very careful at this stage.  Pour the fat through the sieve into a heat-safe bowl.  Give the solids enough time to be cool enough to touch.  Bundle the cheesecloth with the rendered hunks inside and give it a twist over your bowl to get all your liquids out.

Cover with plastic wrap pressing directly down on the lard and move to the fridge.

If you're worried you didn't evaporate all the water, in a few hours, you'll find out.  The water will rise to the top of the fat and form beads on the surface.  Pour this off and put the plastic wrap back down.  This will have no ill effects.

Your lard can be kept in the fridge for a month or two or freeze for more extended life.  

Or don't wait--go fry some potatoes.

Want to read up more on fat?  Check out the highly-educational Fat by Jennifer McLagan or this love-song, Schmaltz by the omnipresent Michael Ruhlman.

F-Word Salad

I've said before that I consider salad posts cheating.  Most salads are creative fridge-dumps, folks scouring to do away with the ends of this and that.

This one was intentional, the result of an inspiring trip to the grocery store, but really, still cheating.

I've got a good-'en lined up, however, for later on.  So if you can forgive me this salad, you'll be rewarded.

F-Word Salad

Proportions are largely up to you.  Eyeball the salad and make yourself happy.

Frisee, torn up

Fennel, sliced very thin

Figs, quartered or even eighthed

Fresh basil, chiffonaded (about 2 Tbsp if you're going to make this an entree.  Don't skimp.)

Fffffgoat cheese

Fava beans (optional)*

Date vinegar

oil

salt to taste

lots of pepper

 Toss the frisee, scatter on top the fennel, fuss with the figs, chunk the cheese and sprinkle with basil.

Mix the vinegar, oil and salt to your taste.  Drizzle.  Crack lots of black pepper over top.

*Fava beans were part of the original recipe here.  I wasn't as excited about them as I had been in the store, seeing the giant pods (you could use frozen, I suppose, but seeing fresh favas got me all a-twitter), but it wasn't a bad addition to the salad.  My sister, on the other hand, liked them.  So.  *shrugs*

We served with peppery shrimp, a whack of bread for the sauce therein and a pseudogarita.

Stocks

I love fall. More, I love cooking in fall. It feels like my element. I can roast poultry and vegetables and make hot bean soups. I think I'm able to throw together some chop for a salad fairly well, but it's not the same as having a steaming bowl or plate of warm waiting for you at the table.

On that note, I've branched out in the world of stocks; I made a seafood stock. I'm not going to give you the recipe for it. Stock recipes, to my mind, are counter-productive. For one thing, you can throw just about anything in a stock pot and it fits the bill, including apple or pear peels if you were feeling ambitious enough. What I will talk about are some basic ingredients for a stock and what you might desire to get the general flavor. You should always, however, branch out. I threw a whack of diced fennel into my seafood stock, for instance, because it had tasted damn good with the mussels I'd eaten originally. Keep in mind, too, that stocks and broths are not just for soups! Add them to rice, a casserole or use to poach instead of water.

A note--I will not mention bay leaves, salt or pepper below. They should probably be added to all of them. (A note on pepper, though: Add whole peppercorns rather than cracked pepper or ground pepper. Unless you want to strain your stock with a coffee filter, too much of that pepper will stay behind.)

Technique:

A brief thought on how. Old-school stock making is slightly more time-consuming when you have to dip and scoop foam off the top of the pot all the time. If you have a slow cooker you can literally dump ingredients and forget about them forever. Whatever you're cooking will only get better and if you want to get rid of fats from meat stocks, skim the fat off the top once it's cold and solid, if you must. Otherwise, fats provide a nice protective layer over the rest of your stock.

Vegetable:

I would encourage you to save all your vegetable scraps for vegetable stock. Not even just for vegetable--save it all for any stock! I recently purchased a whole chicken and after eating the breasts, the bones went in the pot and the dark meat was torn up to go into pot pies. Everything but the skin off the back half of the chicken was used and reused--feels good! Onion and garlic skins and everything can be saved.

Now, I have heard people classify vegetable stocks into light and dark...

(Which, by the way, I should be calling broths. Small tidbit that I wasn't aware of until last year: Stocks are the ones that go gelatinous when they're cold. Their jello-ness comes from the fact that there was bones or joints or some other such in the pot. If you haven't been able to get to the gelatinous stage, some people suggest cracking small bones open or adding chickens' feet to the pot. Personally I couldn't be bothered and mine always come out fine. Stocks supposedly contain more nutrition, though I fail to see how pure vegetable stocks (sorry, 'broths') would not be nutritious seeing as you've boiled up a bunch of veggies. Anywho. I'm no scientist, I suppose. Broths are the ones that are lighter, thinner, free of gelatin and supposedly less nutritious. I might be missing some definitive markers in here, but that's the gist of it.)

Light stocks might include things such as onions, garlic, bits of fruit, carrots, mushrooms, celery, etc.

Dark stocks might include heavier vegetables such as portabellos, turnips, etc. Dark stocks would also benefit from your roasting the vegetables before you boil them to death. Enriches the whole thing.

One thing to avoid may be cabbages. I've never tried them myself as I've heard they have a rather overwhelming flavor and will take over a stock if given the chance. Personally? Unless I'm trying to recreate a vegetarian stock to sub for a beef stock as in when I try to make my sister French Onion Soup, I just mash it all together, roasted or not, 'dark' and 'light', and let it simmer a good long time. Or, now that I have my slow cooker, let it slow cook overnight, for instance.

Chicken:

I'm less variable with chicken stocks. Chicken is a primary, of course. Carrots, celery, onion, garlic. I'm actually a big fan of leeks rather than traditional onions in chicken stock. Have an idea for a spicy soup eventually? Throw in some whole dried chilies. Also, don't get rid of the "garbage" pieces! For instance, when I spatchcock a chicken, I save that backbone for the stock pot.

Beef:

Being that we almost never make red meat in this house, it's rather more difficult to tell you what to put in a beef stock. I would probably treat it the same way I treat pork stock. If I'm making pulled pork, I'll put the roast in the slow cooker, slice up an onion in large rings to dump over it and cover it all with water. Very basic, but a beautiful, rich stock at the end. Likewise, I've boiled hamhocks into times unknown with awesome results. Perhaps for a Split Pea Soup?


Seafood:

I'd never tried to make a seafood stock before. But after making two pounds of mussels it seemed to me a rather damn shame to just toss out all the scraps. In this case, my scraps were the emptied shells (a few with bits of meat still in there) and a few mussels that had been broken or already dead and open or what have you. I've been dreaming of a couple chowders I'd like to make and it seemed stupid to dump chicken stock into a chowder when I had all the fixings for a good seafood base. A caveat about using mussels, however: make sure your mussels (particularly the broken ones) are very, very clean. You may have to strain this one through a coffee filter anyway as it's rather difficult to be sure you've gotten all the grit out of a broken mussel. I had rope-cultivated mussels which were very clean to begin with so I was relatively safe. I've also done this with uncooked shrimp tails and fish scraps if I've trimmed down a fillet or some such.

I don't think you'll see many recipes for seafood broths anyway, but I threw all the mussels in there, onion, that fennel bulb, a few grape tomatoes that had nearly spoiled, garlic, some carrot tops... A lot of the usual basics for a stock, plus some thyme and parsley. Always add a spice you find familiar to the family of flavors you're building if you have it. Preferably whole, so you have less mishegas to strain out.

One last tip: In the case of stocks/broths I've done where the smell isn't quite right? Not deep or rich enough? I'll actually use that liquid as part of the covering liquid for another batch of broth/stock with, say, more chicken if they previous one hadn't quite smelled chicken-y enough. If the smell doesn't come through, the taste won't come through.

Any secret ingredients you really love in a stock?

Project: Spicy Oil

Flavored oils are easily attained in your own kitchen.  Try poaching a head of garlic in a giant pot of oil someday instead of roasting it in the oven.  You'll get the same sweet, delicious garlic and a pot of garlic oil for bread-dipping to boot.

Flavored oils are attainable by hot or cold infusion.  Hot infusion is the faster method: you do something like poaching garlic or hot peppers or (sturdy) herbs and then blend and strain the results.  I adore this cold infusion method (which actually uses the heat of the sun), however, as you end up with a bottle full of pretty in addition to great food.

Oils aren't just for dipping.  The obvious other choice is dressing--a friend used this oil and a maple balsamic to make a killer spicy-sweet vinaigrette.  You can dress pasta as well as greens--mild cheese ravioli with a spicy drizzle can give a dish the life it needs.  Use it in a stir-fry.  Use it to enhance another sauce.

There's plenty to do and much to go around.  I'm leaving a recipe for spicy oil here but you can easily take any combination that suits your fancy.  Add citrus zest.  Add the incredibly excessive numbers of flowers your basil plant insists on producing.  Whatever.  Just use more than you think you need!  It'll reward you with a magnificent potency.

Of course, this is a project. I love kitchen projects, which, in my mind, are different than recipes. When you are bound to wait at least a few weeks for something to finally be ready, it's not a recipe. This oil, which I chose to do by cold infusion, is by necessity a project. Plus, it's beautiful, what with all the whole spices floating about inside the bottle.

Spicy Olive Oil

1 (500 ml) bottle oil

(Don't bother with the good stuff; the heat will override any natural flavor.)

7 or 8 whole, dried chilies

4 sprigs rosemary

3 clove garlic, smashed

3 tsp red pepper flakes

whole peppercorns



I prefer to work with a bottle I've emptied into another vessel, but at a minimum you should be displacing the top third of the liquid to ensure there's no overfill

Using a funnel, roll peppercorns into the bottle until you have approximately 3/4-1 inch settled at the bottom. Add red pepper flakes and garlic.

Bend the chilis a little to open up their oils and feed them into the bottle; don't damage these too much. They're part of the looking-pretty bit I mentioned earlier. Do the same with the rosemary, crushing the piney leaves a bit and breaking the stem in a couple of places to release their oil and scent.

Place the oil in a sunny window for at least a month, or more if you're feeling patient. Turn gently about once a week to evenly distribute the flavors.

Use to saute, dip bread, marinate, etc.

Note: You may want to select a light colored glass if your original bottle was not such so you can better enjoy the arrangement once it's sitting in your kitchen.  Refrigeration will extend shelf life; the oil can last for months.  It will appear cloudy in the fridge but will clear up at room temperature.

Choc-a-block Chicken Soup

Mother Nature, if your intent with this wicked-bad non-spring-ish weather was to make me desire one last giant pot of soup, then you have succeeded. Frankly, if it wasn't, I don't know what the point is because I'm sure you don't like seeing us miserable. You wouldn't've made such fine and beautiful things come out later in spring if you liked miserable.

Or, and here's a theory, maybe you knew I had some cooked chicken meat that needed using up.



Chock-a-Block Chicken Soup

I cannot make a small soup. I am incapable. I thought, before starting this, "I'll just make enough for tonight, lunch tomorrow and maybe one more to freeze."

Hah. I should've never believed me.

This soup ends up being pretty thick with stuff (it's chock-a-block, duh), although I still wouldn't classify it as a stew--the broth's too thin, in my mind. As with all my soups, this one is a gigantaur. Feel free to adjust.

6.5 oz egg noodles (or 180 grams)
water
1 Tbsp oil
2 cups (1 large) leeks, thinly sliced
1 cup diced carrots
salt
5 cups broth
3 cups water
1 1/2 cup chopped, cooked chicken
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 medium zucchini, diced
5 mushrooms, quartered
1 cup frozen corn niblets
2 Tbsp fresh thyme, minced
1/2 Tbsp dried parsley
1 tsp red pepper flakes
salt & pepper
squeeze of lemon

Bring the water to a boil.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a big ol' saucepot and add the leeks and the carrots. Salt them now, as it'll help them sweat a bit. I like leeks for a few reasons--they're mild, their smell evokes chicken soup to me like no other, and they're much prettier floating around in soup than their diced white counterparts. The measurement sounds like a lot. This was a big leek. Plus, they break apart and fluff the second you move those pretty rings. Stir occasionally over very low heat; the idea is not to brown, for once.

Stirred to softness? Good. Your water's probably boiled, so go dump the noodles in.

Add broth and water to your aromatics, then the chicken and garlic. Black pepper it. Stir, then bring this to a simmer for ten minutes or so.

Take your noodles out at about half that time, five minutes. They're a little al-dente at this stage but that's good--you'll cook them a little when they're added to the soup (don't add them straight in; you'll loose too much liquid) and probably cook them again when you rewarm the soup some later day.

Now that we've simmered, add the quick-cooking vegetables and the herbs: the zucchini, mushrooms, frozen corn, thyme, parsley (note fresh vs. dried amts!), red pepper flakes, and that squeeze of lemon. Fear not--the red pepper flakes are not enough to make a vat of soup this size truly spicy. Rather, they lend warmth. But you're gonna reduce them anyway, so whatever, go ahead.

Squeeze a wedge of lemon in. No, seriously. It'll be nice. I'm debating just adding some of my minced preserved lemons next time.

Add the noodles. Stir, let this all simmer five minutes more.

Serve with some sort of bread.

Lunch

I think my sister thinks I'm lavish.

It's simply not true. I enjoy good food as much as the next girl, but I don't usually go crazy. That's saved for guests. (Hint--There may be a post for this Friday's dessert, for instance.)

In this case, her feelings are guided by misunderstanding. I say her feelings, but I'm making assumptions here--this is an educated guess of mine based on the fact that she thinks I make fancy, over-priced apps as snack food. The issue is, I don't think most people know how simple really good food can be.

Which is why I love the following recipe, which is less a recipe and more a series of steps you can fill out, because it feels indulgent. And, you will learn, I really like indulging. The only thing that will suck is waiting an hour while the smell of roasting garlic invades your house.


Prosciutto, Roasted Garlic and Goat Cheese Crostini

makes 12 crostini

1 head garlic, roasted*
1/2 cup goat cheese
4 large slices prosciutto
baguette, cut into 12 thin rounds
spicy oil, optional
minced fresh chives, optional

Note: This recipe has been updated since the original posting.  Not only does it have a photo, the directions have changed a tich.  I thought I was being fancy by layering prosciutto in thinner cuts previously.  I've decided this is unnecessary because the little "blankets" scrunny up like the picture above displays.  Simpler, faster, equally pretty and delicious.

Start your broiler heating.  My gas oven allows me to set my broiler to "low".

Working over a cookie sheet, scoop out a clove with a butter knife and smear it over a round of baguette. If you have particularly large cloves, cut them in half.  Top with crumbled goat cheese, dividing evenly between the rounds.

If you want a little spice, this would be the time to lightly shake some hot oil over the crostini.  A pinch of red pepper flakes will work well too, but be sure your guests want that kind of thing!


Lay the prosciutto slices directly on top of each other.  With a flat, sharp knife, cut into thirds, width-wise.  This supposes you will end up with small slices that are just big enough to cover one of your crostini.  If your slices are larger or smaller (I've gotten up to 4 pieces out of really big prosciutto slices), adjust accordingly.  Layer prosciutto like a little blanket over the cheese. 

Place cookie sheet in the oven 3-4 inches away from the broiler. Cook them for just 3-5 minutes or until the edges of the crostini and meat are browning; the fat at the edges of the prosciutto should be starting to crisp and render.

Consume immediately, guiltlessly, lavishly.


*Roasting a head of garlic: You do this by cutting the top 1/3 of the head off (you're aiming to expose the tops of most, if not all, of the cloves) and drizzling a little olive oil on it. You could top with a little salt and pepper if you want.  I don't really see a need, though. Wrap it up in tin foil, set it in a 375 degree oven.  Check it after 45 minutes.  (One hour for two heads, which I would recommend, because who wants to turn on the oven for an hour for one bloody head of garlic?  They will also keep in the fridge for a while so no panic.)   The garlic is done when the tops are geennntly caramelizing (you don't need a deep brown like most "real" caramelizing - the outside cloves may burn first).  You should be able to feel the garlic is smooshy-soft through the skin.

Seriously, that's all there is to this five-dollar app they've served you at a restaurant.  A ten-cent head of garlic and time.

(Alternatively, you could get a similar flavor poaching a head of garlic and get yourself some garlic-oil for bread dipping and dressings and what have you at the same time.)

Achievement Unlocked: Roasted Garlic