Getting Harry'd

On a business trip to Chicago many years ago, my husband and I had the opportunity to eat dinner at Harry Caray’s Restaurant in downtown Chicago. Harry Caray, of course, was the legendary bespectacled Chicago Cubs’ announcer who subsequently became known for his dining establishments around the city.

Since the original restaurant opened in the late 1980s, none of the infamous Chicago mobsters of the 30s ever dined there. Nevertheless, its atmosphere is such that you keep looking at the door, waiting for Al Capone to enter, machine guns blazing.

I don’t remember what I ate, but I remember that my husband had Chicken Vesuvio. I had never heard of this particular dish, which originated in Chicago in the 1930s. Chicken Vesuvio is one of those Italian-American dishes that didn’t come from Italy, though I assure you, it would be enjoyed by any self-respecting Italian (and probably is by now).

Roasted chicken with crispy skin, potatoes cooked in white wine, chicken broth, and garlic – how can this dish be anything but delicious?

Still, I never really gave the dish another thought for a very long time.

However, recently an 80-something Italian friend mentioned she had recently prepared Chicken Vesuvio for her family. My friend is an outstanding Italian cook (about whom I will talk in future blogs), and I asked for her recipe. She, of course, had no recipe, but was happy to tell me how she made it. I was unprepared to write down what she told me, but I knew I could get her recipe (or something close to it) on the Internet. You can get anything on the Internet.

A search for Chicken Vesuvio, of course, brought up a link to Harry Caray’s Restaurant, since they are said to have the best in town (and that is no small thing in a food town like Chicago). So it was Harry Caray’s version of Chicken Vesuvio that I made, and it was extremely good.

Harry Caray’s Chicken Vesuvio

1 cup frozen peas
2 whole cleaned (4 pound) roasting chickens
1 cup olive oil
4 large Idaho potatoes
10 cloves whole garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1 tablespoon dry oregano
1 tablespoon granulated garlic
1/3 cup chopped parsley
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1 1/2 cups chicken broth

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.Blanch the peas by putting them in boiling water 1 minute. Joint each chicken into 8 pieces.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into quarters lengthwise. In a large roasting pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the potatoes and garlic cloves and sauté the potatoes until golden brown, stirring so they cook evenly. Remove the garlic cloves from the roasting pan and discard them. Remove the potatoes and set aside.

Add the chicken to the pan and sauté lightly on both sides of each piece until it is golden brown. Deglaze the pan with the wine and reduce by half.

Return the potatoes to the pan. Season the potatoes and chicken with the salt, pepper, oregano, granulated garlic, and parsley. Add the chicken broth and transfer the pan to the oven for 45 minutes or until the chicken reaches an internal temperature of 155 degrees.

Place the chicken on a serving plate and arrange the potatoes around the chicken. Pour the sauce from the pan over the chicken and sprinkle the peas on top.

I use chicken thighs, and cut the recipe by at least half. I leave out the peas (though they are present in the photo) as my husband is not a big fan of the pea, and they really are mainly for color. Giada De Laurentis suggests artichoke hearts or lima beans, but neither of those would make my husband jump for joy either, so I leave out a vegetable.

There is a Harry Caray’s at Chicago’s Midway Airport. I always need a stiff drink before I take off from that particular airport where the airplane must begin a steep ascent immediately upon taking off since the airport is located in the middle of a neighborhood. You can practically see what the residents have on their grill as you ascend. Every time I order my glass of wine or martini, the server asks to see my identification. Now, I know that they are required by city law to do so, but I always pretend they simply aren’t certain that I am of age. It gives me great pleasure.

Sexy Salmon

The price of Copper River salmon can take your breath away. Ranging from $15.99-to-unthinkable-per pound, the taste had better be good to justify the price.

It is.

I had never heard of Copper River salmon until a few years ago, when a co-worker who is a very good cook mentioned it. I’m a fan of salmon, so I was very interested.

The Copper River salmon season is very short (May and June), which likely accounts for its price tag. The poor, unsuspecting wild salmon are caught while swimming upstream in the Copper River in Alaska where they will breed. Wild salmon have more flavor than farm-raised, and these salmon are particularly delicious because they have to store a lot of fat to make the 300-mile trip upstream. Fat = Flavor.

But it doesn’t matter to my husband whether the salmon was farm-raised or caught wild. He doesn’t care how far they traveled to spawn. In fact, they could have tweeted their sexy fishy parts to lady salmon in Scotland, and it wouldn’t make my husband any more interested in eating salmon – expensive or otherwise.

Every once in a while, I will use the Omega-3-is-so-good-for-you argument, and he will allow me to serve salmon, but I don’t push the envelope. Instead, I simply order salmon at restaurants whenever possible. Sometimes I will go to Whole Foods and buy a hamburger patty for him and a salmon burger for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to see if he would be willing to eat Copper River salmon for dinner. I didn’t want to fork out that much money only to have him pick at his fish and yearn for a pork chop. I explained how delicious Copper River salmon is, and, of course, reminded him how good Omega 3 is for us. He acquiesced.

My original plan was to cook the salmon on the grill. I could taste the simple yumminess of grilled salmon with maybe just a couple of lemon slices on top and some capers. Then I suddenly got an idea.

“Eureka,” I said. I had just remembered a recipe I had discovered many years ago in a snooty cooking magazine called Saveur. (I only call it snooty because I don’t know what the word “saveur” means, being it’s French and all. The magazine was actually quite interesting and many of the recipes were delicious.)

The recipe involves bacon. If a salmon filet doesn’t excite my husband, at least the addition of bacon would make it that much more palatable.

Here’s what you do:

In a skillet, brown a few pieces of bacon. For my two filets, I browned (until crispy) four slices of bacon. Once the bacon is brown, remove it from the pan and drain it on some paper towels. Once it is cool, break it into pieces.

In the bacon grease that remains in your skillet, brown your filets on both sides. You want it fairly crispy, so cook it for maybe five minutes or so on each side. By the way, if the bacon you cooked didn’t render enough fat, add some olive oil (or even better, add some bacon grease that you have in a little jar in your refrigerator left over from previous breakfasts – oh, wait a minute; that’s me, not you). Once the salmon is caramelized, cover your skillet and cook on low temperature for about five minutes, until it is translucent.

Once the salmon is cooked through, set it aside. Pour some red wine vinegar (maybe a third of a cup or so) to the bacon grease in the skillet. This will splash, so stand back, and be prepared to clean your stove top later. Add a bit of sugar to the dressing that you have just prepared. Pour the hot dressing on top of a salad, top with the bacon, and serve along with the salmon. If you wish, a hard-boiled egg would be delicious on this wilted lettuce salad.

My husband ate the entire piece of fish and proclaimed it to be delicious. The moral of the story is when all else fails, add pork.

Making the Rotation

No matter how you look at it, pigs make for good eating. Think about it. Bacon, barbecue ribs, Italian sausage, carne adovada -- all good eats thanks to the sacrifice of a pig. (Which reminds me of a very funny poster I saw recently at a breakfast restaurant: “Bacon and eggs – a day’s work for the chicken, a lifetime commitment for the pig.”)

What’s more, I find pork to be fairly affordable. Despite my recent near-death experience when I priced center-cut bacon, I still can find pork chops at a price that doesn’t require me to take a sedative following its purchase. I think pork chops are overlooked – the redheaded stepchild of the meat world as my always-politically-incorrect-and-proud-of-it husband would say.

So recently, as I leafed through a grilling magazine I had picked up at the grocery store (because I don’t have enough cookbooks or recipe cards at home!), I was pleased to find a large number of recipes for pork. One in particular caught my eye – mostly because the recipe’s author put as her preface that pork chops prepared this way are on her family’s regular dinner rotation. In other words, these pork chops made the rotation.

That expression is one that I think is used by many new cooks (and I’m specifically picturing one of my nieces as I write). “This meal makes the rotation.” You try different things. Some you vow never to make again, and some work out (i.e., make the rotation) and you make them again and again. As for me, my rotation consists of about five or six things that I make over and over, intermixed with various recipes I find in cookbooks, magazines, or on cooking shows or the internet. Unfortunately, even when a recipe turns out to be delicious, it doesn’t often make the rotation at my house. Too many recipes; too little time. Except for the five or six things that I make over and over.

Having said all of the above, I offer you this recipe, which came from the Taste of Home Grill It Cookbook.

Hearty Pork Chops

2/3 c. lemon-lime soda
½ c. soy sauce
¼ c. honey
1 t. dried thyme (I used fresh)
¾ t. dried rosemary, crushed (Again, I used fresh)
¼ t. black pepper
6 bone-in pork loin chops (I would buy whatever is on sale)

In a large resealable plastic bag, combine the first six ingredients; add the pork chops. Seal bag and turn to coat; refrigerate for 4 hours or overnight, turning bag occasionally.

Drain and discard marinade. Grill pork, covered, over medium heat 6-8 minutes on each side or until juices run clear.

The pork chops I bought were very thick, so it took longer than 8 minutes on each side to cook through. If you have any questions, cut into them to see if the juices run clear. Don’t overcook. I cooked mine about 10 minutes on each side. Also, because of the honey and soda in the marinade, the chops carmelize (get brown) very easily. They are not burnt. But keep an eye on them.

As an aside, I don’t know why, but I really prefer thinner pork chops. I just think they have more flavor. And they are decidedly less expensive. I guess I’m a cheap date. It’s what my dad always cooked.

The Secret of the Hidden Recipes

I am a voracious reader. I always have at least one book going, and often a couple. I must – absolutely MUST – have a book waiting so that when I finish the one I'm currently reading, I can simply pick up the next, taking only time to visit the rest room if necessary.

I read many different kinds of books – fiction, biography, nonfiction (particularly if it's about World War II or at least that era), even some light romance if it's not too gooey and I'm in the mood. But, without a doubt, my favorite kind of book to read is a really good mystery. That's been true since I read Nancy Drew starting at age 7.

In fact, I like to try and solve mysteries. I'm really no good at it. While watching detective shows on TV, my husband will undoubtedly figure out who the murderer is about 25 seconds into the show. He will always ask me if I have it figured out, and I almost never figure it out prior to the end of the show. I would make a lousy detective.

I'm sort of the same way when I am standing in the grocery line or sitting at the mall. I try to solve the mystery of people's lives. I will create a story line based on watching a young mother talking with great animation to another person. For example, based on the scowl on her face as she talks, I think she had a fight with her husband, who is the brother of the woman with whom she's speaking. She is probably asking her, based on her relationship with her brother, if she thinks she should stay with him or get a divorce. See what I mean? In fact, I have no idea what's really transpiring, but that doesn't stop me from creating an interesting scenario.

Anyway, I recently began reading a book that I picked up at a used book store – The Song of the Lark, by Willa Cather. The copy I picked up was kind of old, and had been read by many people, or perhaps read many times by the same person. The pages were kind of yellowed and stiff. So, I'm reading along, and all of the sudden, I turn the page and there is a 3 X 5 index card with a recipe written in grandmother cursive. You know the kind of handwriting about which I speak. The letters are perfectly drawn with sort of a flowery flourish to them. The handwriting is very pretty. The recipe is called Bet's Gingersnaps.

Because I'm fascinated by recipes, I perused the card very quickly. It was an old fashioned recipe, something a grandmother would make. I set it aside and continued reading.

A day or so later, I noticed a recipe card fall out of that same book. Hmm, I thought I had put that recipe in the kitchen. I looked at the card, and saw that it was a second recipe card, this time for Marjorie's Pickled Figs. Marjorie also had an elderly person's perfect penmanship.

That's when I began to try and solve the mystery of why there were two recipe cards in this book. I quickly envisioned a book club, similar to the ones in which I participate. This book club must have had some sort of recipe exchange. I'll bet they were asked to bring one of their mother's favorite recipes. Or maybe they were offering a recipe for something their kids especially loved them to make. Or, I know, they were exchanging recipes that had been passed down in their families for many generations. The group was made up of older women who had been meeting once a month for years and years and years. No one under the age of 60 is named Bet or Marjorie.

I would love to have been able to see the other recipes. In fact, I would love to have been part of the discussion about that book. Did they tie the recipes into the discussion somehow? The book is about a Swedish family that lived in a small Colorado mountain town in the 1800s. Did the recipes tie in somehow to that theme?

I'll never know.

Here are the two recipes, exactly as they wrote them:

Bet's Gingersnaps

½ c. Crisco
½ c. or less Br Sugar
1 egg
4 T mild molasses (not blackstrap)
½ tsp salt
1 tsp or less B. Soda
2 tsp Ginger
2 ¼ c flour

Cream shortening sugar together. Add egg, molasses. Beat. Add flour salt spice gradually. When blended I put in frig over night or until stiff. Then I take out small globs and put on greased cookie sheet. Press flat with floured fork.

I bake at 350 till brown – They burn easily – but crispy if well baked.

So, here is are my questions for Bet. What in blazes does that last sentence mean? Do you want them crispy? Aren't gingersnaps always brown, so how do I know when they're brown? Define well baked. How much less brown sugar or b soda? And would it have taken that much more time to write out "baking"?

Marjorie's Pickled Figs
6 c sugar
1 c water
1 c white vinegar
¼ t oil of cloves (drug or health foods store)
¼ t. “ “ cinnamon or sticks (3-4)
Blanch figs 5 – 7 min – set aside.

Do this for 3 days.
Can & seal or freeze
6 – 8 pints

Okay, now Marjorie, just exactly what am I supposed to do for 3 days? Seriously, I haven't a clue. It's not really that much of a problem, however, because I can't think of a reason that I would ever try to pickle a fig. What ever made you, or your mother, or your grandmother pickle a fig? Pickle a cucumber, or maybe an okra, or even a bean. Leave the figs alone!

As an aside, I recently heard some grade school teachers talking about the fact that they are being less and less encouraged to teach young children cursive. I guess I'm not surprised, but it makes me very sad. I guess that means that before long, there won't be such things as recipe cards.

Ham It Up

Another holiday draws to a close, which in my family means a full stomach and exhaustion from the sheer energy it takes to chew so much food. What a way to celebrate the risen Christ.

While I can’t quite remember exactly what my mother cooked in Easters past, I’m sure it involved a ham. I don’t know why or when Easter became synonymous with smoked pork butt, but it’s hard to imagine an Easter dinner or buffet without it. Even if one isn’t exactly a fan of the ham, there it generally sits on your Easter table.

While I wouldn’t say ham is my favorite food, I must admit that a spiral cut ham with a crunchy sugary glaze tastes really good to me, as long as it isn’t more often than once or twice a year. What’s more, as it sits on the buffet table, I am virtually unable to walk by it without picking a piece off of the bone. And I walk by it a lot, I’m afraid.

This year one of our sons and daughters-in-law hosted the Easter feast. Somehow, however, I ended up with a whole lot of the ham. I’m not sure how that happened. Oh, I know. It’s because I suggested to her that life as we know it would end if she threw away the ham bone.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what I would do with it,” said the harried mother of four, “but I will send it home with you.”

So, there it sits in my refrigerator. I don’t have any problem thinking about what to do with the ham bone. There is Senate Bean Soup, of which I’ve spoken. I can also make green beans and ham, which has also been discussed in Simply Cooking Simply. There is, however, the matter of all of that ham which she left attached to the bone.

Hmmmm. I’ve been trying to think what my mother did with leftover ham. I recall eating ham with my eggs for breakfast in the morning. I also have a vague memory of creamed potatoes with ham, though I haven’t been able to find the recipe.

After putting on my thinking cap (and let’s not get started with that again), I came up with a couple of ideas.

My husband has never struggled with his masculinity when it comes to eating quiche. He has never found a pie he doesn’t like, nor has he ever met an egg concoction that he doesn’t like. Combine the two and you have a happy man. I found a lot of recipes that suggest making a piecrust from scratch, and far be it from me to discourage you from doing that. However, I give you permission to buy a good quality refrigerated piecrust in which to put your egg custard. They are so darn easy – you don’t even have to roll them out. Just lay them in your pie pan and fill it up. Here is a wonderful recipe from Taste of Home. Personally, I would substitute Swiss cheese because I love the combination of Swiss cheese and ham. Suit yourself. Make a couple of quiches and freeze one for later.

My second idea has to do with baking potatoes. I’m a fan of twice-baked potatoes, but I’ve never prepared one for dinner. But a baked potato filled with ham and cheese sounds like a substantial and relatively easy dinner.

Bake a couple of russet potatoes until they are soft. In our altitude, it takes an hour-and-a-half at 375 to completely cook. Once they are soft, cut a small section off of the top of each potato and scoop out the potato into a large bowl. Add cooked diced ham, maybe a cup or so, along with some cheese. Add a couple of dollops of sour cream, or a bit of half-and-half or milk. You can also add some cooked onion or mushrooms – really anything that sounds good and that you have in the refrigerator. Add salt and pepper. Carefully refill the potatoes (which will now be overstuffed and delicious), top with some more of the cheese, and bake in a preheated 450-degree oven for 10 to 15 minutes, until the cheese has melted. Serve with a tossed salad.

Personally, I would prefer leg of lamb for Easter, but that rarely appears on my table. Unfortunately, I’m the only one who likes lamb. Oh well.

Happy Easter to all my friends and family.

Meatless Madness

Growing up Catholic in the 50s and 60s (and don’t be a smart aleck; I mean the 1950s and 1960s) meant abstaining from meat on Fridays. And growing up in the land-locked cattle-heavy Nebraska plains meant tuna casseroles or fish sticks on Fridays.

I would assume that times and tastes and grocery stores have changed since then, even in Nebraska. I can probably buy shrimp, for example, as easily there as I can here in Denver. I can likely even find fresh fish if I look a bit. But back in the good ol’ days, we ate our fish out of a can or as breaded sticks, and eagerly awaited our Saturday morning breakfast of bacon and eggs as a reward for our penance.

Nowadays, at least for me, not eating meat on Fridays is not only easy to do, but quite enjoyable. It really doesn’t feel like much of a sacrifice. I don’t know that my husband would feel quite the same way, although he enjoys most shellfish and really likes almost all kinds of pasta dishes. And though he would always prefer Italian sausage on his pizza, he wouldn’t turn his nose up at a simple cheese pizza. Hold the vegetables for him, however.

As I paged through the newest cookbook from my very favorite chef and cookbook author Lidia Bastianich, I discovered that an extraordinary number of her recipes, especially her pasta recipes, are meatless. I assume that is because in Italy, they take advantage of the wonderful cheeses and the fresh seasonal vegetables to produce the most delicious and mostly simple sauces for pasta. Two of them caught my eye.

The first is Baked Penne and Mushrooms. To enjoy this recipe, you must like mushrooms. But the earthiness of a variety of mushrooms is kept in check by the richness of the cream and butter that is added to the mix. Topped with rich fontina cheese and baked until that cheese is brown and crusty makes a meal that even someone reluctant to try mushrooms would have to like, especially on a meatless Friday.

The second recipe that made my mouth water is Maccheroni with Fresh Lemon and Cream Sauce. Her recipe explains how to make maccheroni using a complicated contraption known as a chitarra, which resembles a guitar. The strings are used to cut the pasta into long strands. My recommendation would be to use dried linguini or spaghetti, but far be it from me to dissuade you from being creative. On her television show, she even demonstrated how you could cut the pasta by hand. Seemed like a lot of work to me.

I’m not normally drawn to pasta sauces that have cream or half and half as an ingredient, but the cream in this sauce is offset by a hearty amount of lemon and lemon zest, which would take away some of the richness that I would find a bit off putting for a pasta sauce.

The first recipe requires a stint in the oven, so you have to account for that time. The second, however, is so quick that you can throw the sauce together in the time it takes to cook your pasta (particularly if you are using a dry pasta as opposed to a fresh pasta; dry pasta takes a few minutes longer to cook).

The best news about both of these dishes is that they would be relatively inexpensive. If you don’t want to pay the price for fancier mushrooms, simply substitute the less pricey and more familiar button mushrooms. Heavy cream can be somewhat expensive, but you can substitute half-and-half if you want. It won’t be quite as rich, but that’s not always a bad thing.

Unfortunately, true fontina cheese is expensive. I would think you could substitute another kind of cheese that melts easily, such as Swiss or even Monterey Jack. If it’s up to me, however, I would fork out the cash for fontina if you can find it. After all, you aren’t paying for meat. And you could easily substitute Parmesan cheese for the pecorino cheese called for in the lemony sauce.

Meatless Fridays aren’t too tough anymore. Perhaps I should consider a meatless meal every week, even when a man in Italy wearing a pointed hat isn’t telling me to do so.

Pizza Il Forno

My husband and I have been lucky enough to travel quite a bit, and undoubtedly, our favorite place to travel is Italy. A couple of years ago, we spent three-and-a-half months traveling around Europe, and two out of those 3+ months we spent in Italy. We began to feel almost like locals.

Having spent so much time there, and loving the way Italians live and eat, we are always surprised to hear that some people haven’t enjoyed the food they have eaten while traveling in Italy. The first time someone told me that she thought the food in Italy was awful, I pressed her to explain. “We couldn’t even find spaghetti and meatballs,” she whined.

Inwardly I groaned, but patiently, I explained to her that spaghetti and meatballs really aren’t an Italian dish, but more of an Italian-American dish. When Italians immigrated to the United States, they took the ingredients that were plentiful here (such as ground beef) and, in familiar fashion, turned them into something wonderful to eat. But you are unlikely to find meatballs on a menu at any restaurant in Italy.

Out of all the wonderful things you can eat in Italy, my husband’s unqualified favorite thing is the pizza. Rome and Naples have a continuing argument on who makes the best pizza, but I like them both.

Italian pizzas are simple, with few ingredients. You won’t find pizza crust loaded with a tomato sauce, handfuls of mozzarella cheese, and piles of meat and vegetables. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love those kinds of pizzas as well. But the simplicity of a thin-crust pizza charred in the wood-fired oven and topped with maybe some slices of prosciutto and handful of arugula make for good eating. Oh, and of course, a glass of vino rosso.

It’s hard to find that kind of pizza here. There’s a restaurant a few miles down the road that comes close. But I have found that I can do a pretty good job of making a typical Roman-style pizza at home by making it on my grill.

Most of the recipes that I have found call for a homemade pizza crust. Far be it from me to discourage you from making a homemade crust if you so desire and have the time. I buy my crust at my neighborhood Whole Foods. Most pizza places will sell you their crust as well. And, if all else fails, you can use the refrigerated crusts sold in all grocery stores.

The key to a successful grilled pizza is having everything prepared in advance. It all goes very quickly, and you don’t have time to mess around or your crust will go from charred to black. Yuck.

Here’s how you do it:

Preheat your grill while you prepare your ingredients. Divide your crust into individual portions and roll it out as thin as you can.

While your grill is getting hot, warm some olive oil in a pan, and throw in a crushed garlic clove. Let the oils from the garlic flavor the olive oil, and then brush the olive oil on both sides of your individual crusts.

Put your ingredients in bowls and take them with you out to the grill, along with the crusts. I recommend very simple ingredients. Maybe you will want to brush a little tomato sauce on the crust after it has cooked on one side. Perhaps you will put on a little cheese. You can add some garlic or maybe a little prosciutto or few slices of pepperoni (but not both).

Once your grill is preheated, carefully place the crusts (on which you have brushed some garlic-infused oil) directly onto the grill rack. One web site recommends that you put your crust on a piece of aluminum foil that you have floured and slide it from the foil onto the grill. I have generally just used my hands. However you do it, this is probably the trickiest part. But you can do it!

At this point, don’t walk away from the grill. Keep your eyes open as you watch the crust begin to bubble. It really only takes a minute or so. Once the bottom of the crust has gotten a little charred, turn the crust over using tongs. Brush more oil onto the crust, and quickly put on your ingredients. Close the lid and let the pizzas cook and the cheese melt (if you used cheese) for a few more minutes – probably no more than five. Keep your eye on the pie. The result is almost as good as pizzas we ate in Italy.

Our dream is to build an actual wood-burning pizza oven in our back yard. In the meantime, we will continue to use our grill.