Cajun Shrimp Chowder

Match Day celebrations went all the way to Tuesday for me—a foreshadowing of Mardi Gras’ to come… TULANE! We are going from snow to swamp in two months, which will pass in a blink as did this very special day:

And to celebrate, my palette brushes dip into Bayou flavors for color and spice. And heat. Winter returneth to Minnesota, alas alak.

Cajun Shrimp Chowder

Adapted from Penzeys

2 lbs. potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks

1 large onion, diced

2 TB. olive oil

1 TB. chili powder

1/4-1 tsp. crushed red peppers, to taste

4 ears sweet corn (or 1 15-oz. can), cooked and kernels removed

1 lb. tomatoes—4 medium (or 1 15-oz. can), seeded and chopped

1 qt. milk

1 8-oz. block cream cheese, softened

1-2 lbs. shelled shrimp, frozen or fresh

Place the potatoes in a kettle and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook until tender, about 8-10 minutes. While the potatoes boil, heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven or large kettle. Add the onion and cook until translucent. Add the chili powder and crushed red peppers and cook for 1 minute. Drain the potatoes and add to the kettle and stir gently to coat with oniony-chili powder goodness.

Add the corn kernels and tomatoes and let cook for 10 minutes. Add to milk and bring to a simmer. Ladle out about half of the hot liquid into a blender with the cream cheese. Blend until smooth. Pour the liquid back into the kettle. Add the shrimp and gently simmer (do not boil) until the shrimp are cooked through, about 5 minutes. Add salt to taste and serve.

Wore the sorting hat for luck before the big day at the Foundation House:

Haiku #78 (Mar 19)

Flour falls from my

dishrag flanks to the yoga

mat—another kneading.

Haiku #79 (Mar 20)

Open the letter.

the tremor in your wrists is

breeze from the future.

Haiku #80 (Mar 21)

Special delivery:

Overnighted shot glasses

To clink to Tulane!

Haiku #81 (Mar 22)

To use suspenders

with scrub pants brings Uptown Funk

further up, past cool.

Haiku #82 (Mar 23)

Barium cocktail,

not shaken or stirred; inky

as a Bond montage.

Great Grandma Moog’s Gingersnap Cookies

I never knew Great Grandma Moog, just as I never knew Shakespeare or Picasso—all the same her artwork has touched my life and for that I have a sense of fond familiarity. I don’t even know whose Great Grandma she was, not mine, but now that this shared recipe has permeated the cooking blog culture, she is, in a way, everyone’s Great Grandma, “great,” in her case sliding toward an adjective of quality and away from a kinship identifier.

So I hear ginger is superb for nausea, and that is why I offer this recipe on the Eve of Match Day for all those medical students out there suffering the limbo with me—knowing that we have indeed matched but still yet to discover Where.

Roll this dough between your palms like dice, and sooth thy stomach with warm sugary bites.

Great Grandma Moog’s Gingersnap Cookies

Adapted from Penzeys Spices

2 Cups flour

2 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 Cup vegetable shortening (I know, the worst, but go with it—makes the top crinkle perfect)

1 Cup sugar

1 large egg

1/4 Cup molasses

1 tsp. ginger, powdered (use real ginger if you are really urpy)

1 tsp. cinnamon, powdered

1/2 tsp. cloves, powdered

1/3 Cup granulated sugar (to roll dough in)

Sift flour, baking soda and salt together, set aside. In a large mixing bowl, beat shortening and sugar until well blended. Beat in egg, molasses, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. Add the flour mixture in two parts, blending well. Shape the dough into a ball, cover and refrigerate overnight or at least 2 hours. Preheat oven to 350°. Shape dough into 1 1/2-inch balls.

Roll the balls thoroughly in sugar, place on ungreased cookie trays. The cookies spread out during baking, so don’t crowd them. Bake 15 minutes. Cool for a minute, then remove from cookie sheets.

Haiku #76 (Mar 17)

I have collected

friends like a piece of cold glass

morning drops of dew.

Haiku #77 (Mar 18)

I rolled ginger in

sugar between my palms and

counted it as prayer.

Tartine Baguettes

I have not been impressed with any green bread recipe I’ve ever tried. And Irish Soda Bread is, at best, a shot put. I did make some killer guac for the St. Patty’s Day party I attended over the weekend. This St Patrick’s Day, I’m simply celebrating nature’s early green curling onto the branches out my window, and, in all humility, I’m toasting to my green, (with naïvete, not jealousy), amphibious heart—so young and bright with hope in the infancy of my medical career, with the answer of Match arriving at the end of the week like a gift from a very, very heavy stork.

Tartine Baguettes

Adapted from the Tartine cookbook

A side note: whenever I hear the word “baguettes” I usually think of the French baker character in Beauty and the Beast, “Marie? The baguettes! Hurry up!”

First, make a poolish of 200g water, 200g flour, and a dollop of sourdough starter, cover and let it rise overnight, or at least four hours.

Then, make Tartine Baguette dough (using baker’s percentages (BP), so, as you will)

Sourdough starter 400g (40)

Water 500g (50)

Poolish 400g (40)

Bread flour 350g (35)

All purpose flour 650g (65)

Salt 24g (2)

Follow the classic Tartine steps for bulk fermentation for the next 3-4 hours. Then, when you would otherwise shape the into baguettes and proof for another 2-3 hours in gutters of parchment.

You can also let these cold rise in the fridge overnight, covered in saran. When ready to bake, heat up the stone to 500. Glaze your baguettes with egg white or water, slash a few times, and then slide them on the stone with a peel (on the parchment) and bake for 10-15 minutes (spraying with water a few times in the first few minutes). You may need to rotated them 180 degrees after 10 minutes, depending on how your oven works.

Haiku #73 (Mar 14)

I cannot haiku

Today for some reason. The

Words will not stand up.

Haiku #74 (Mar 15)

Life, a cabaret,

A box of chocolates, a

Free trip ‘round the sun.

Haiku #75 (Mar 16)

In the math of match,

How many must lose their dream

to make mine come true?

Pumpkin Oat Pie Squares for Pi Day

Pi Day, Pie Day. I know, it’s the big one. 3.14.15.9 – how lucky to live through such a date. KP said we should do something special to celebrate, and I suggested math problems, and he said he would prefer to eat something special.

If you are in the mood today to make some pie, I’ve got more than a few suggestions.

Bourbon Pecan Pie

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Pie

Pancetta and Cheese Pie

Raspberry Cordial Vanilla Cream Pie

Chocolate Cream Pie

But today, I’m feeling cantankerous, and offer a square pie on the day we honor circles.

Pumpkin Oat Pie Squares

Adapted from Penzeys Spices Catalogue

Crust

1 Cup flour

1/2 Cup regular oats

1/2 Cup brown sugar

1/2 Cup cold butter (1 stick), cut into pieces

Filling

1 15-oz. can puréed pumpkin

1 12-oz. can evaporated milk

2 eggs

3/4 Cup sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. ground cloves

Topping

1/2 Cup chopped pecans

1/2 Cup brown sugar

2 TB. butter

Preheat oven to 350°. In a large bowl, combine the flour, oats, brown sugar and butter. Rub between your fingers or use two forks to mix until crumbly. Press into an ungreased 9×13 pan and bake for 15 minutes.

While the crust is baking, prepare the filling. In a large bowl, combine the pumpkin, evaporated milk, eggs, sugar, salt, cinnamon and cloves. Beat until smooth and well-blended. Pour over the baked crust.

Bake at 350° for 20 minutes. During this time, make the topping by combining the pecans, brown sugar and butter in a bowl. Mix the topping using your hands until the topping resembles coarse crumbs. Sprinkle the topping over the pumpkin mixture and bake again for 15-20 minutes or until the filling is set. Let cool completely before cutting into squares.

Haiku #70 (Mar 11)

Clearing through cobwebs

in the mind; the morning fog

of new consciousness.

Haiku #71 (Mar 12)

Cajun shrimp chowder:

The milkshake for people who

still miss New Orleans.

Haiku #72 (Mar 13)

An accordion

plays a sad Danny Boy from

the corner in green.

Semolina Tartine Bread and Sudden Spring

And of a sudden, Spring.

We took to the streets, chickens too, eyes squinted to allow more space for smile.

I went to procure the nearest ice cream cone with which to celebrate Melting Of All Kinds.

We break bread and give thanks.

Semolina Tartine Bread

Adapted from the Tartine Bread book

Sourdough 200 g

Water 750 g + 50 g later

Semolina flour 700 g

Flour 300 g

Fennel seeds 75 g

Sesame seeds 75 g

Salt 20 g

More seeds 200 g (I used hemp seeds, poppy seeds, more sesame and fennel, and flax seeds)

Toast the fennel seeds until fragrant.

Prepare the dough using the method of Tartine Country Bread, and fold in toasted fennel and sesame seeds after the second turn during bulk fermentation. Fill the bannetons with seed mixture and rice flour, add the dough top down so that the tops get entirely covered with seeds. Bake each loaf according to the recipe for tartine country bread. If you want a variation on this, add 3 cups of raisins, 1 tsp coriander, and grated orange zest to the dough with the seeds on the second turn. Incredible.

Mix the water (all but 50 grams), sourdough and flours together. Cover with plastic in the bowl, and let REST for 40 minutes.

Then mix the remaining water and salt, and let rest for 30 minutes. Now, instead of kneading on a floured surface, every 30 minutes for 3-4 hours, you simply “turn” the dough in the plastic container. This means, you pick up one edge of the dough, and fold it on top of the rest, a motion you repeat with all four corners of the circle (I know this is an oxymoron, but you get it, don’t you?). The dough will seem very wet, like ciabatta dough.

It would be a complete mess if you tried to knead it on the counter, and there is no need to knead (smile)—this process accomplishes the same degree of development. As the dough gets more billowy and aerated, be gentle to not expel the gas from the wet dough. The volume should increase 20-30 percent, and lots of bubbles will form along the edges toward the end.

After 3 or 4 hours, lightly flour a work surface and use a knife to cut the dough into two segments. Work each half into a round boule. Then let both rounds rest on the surface, covered, for 30 minutes. Prepare two bannetons (which is a towel in a bowl, not a towl in a bowel as I originally typed the phrase by mistake, giggle), and sprinkle rice flour and wheat flour along the towel so the inverted dough rounds don’t stick. Plop them in there and let “proof” –final rise—for 3 or 4 more hours.

Heat a baking stone in the oven to 500 degrees, and put a cast iron pot inside. Be careful, but when everything is hot enough, slip the dough from the banneton into the hot pot, slash the top, and put the lid on. Put the pot back in the oven, and reduce the temperature to 450 degrees. What this does is capture the steam of the water that wants to boil out of the loaf. Steam makes an incredible crust on loaves of bread. In the past, I have been practically rusting my oven by spraying water inside while I bake. This method spares the metal of your oven, and accomplishes the same objective. Bake for 20 minutes with the lid on, and then remove the lid and bake for another 20-25 minutes. The bread will be crackling and crisp and deeply caramelized. I’ll never make bread the old way again.

Haiku #69 (Mar 10)

Kitchen slow dance–prime

Chance for the bulldog to get

Fine trashcan dining.

This post is featured at Sourdough Surprises– my favorite sourdough online community– www.sourdoughsurprises.blogspot.com

Pulled Pork Sandwiches with Homemade BBQ Sauce

Happiness is the company of old friends in new places—the birth of new traditions— eight pairs of high heels, flamingos and cupcake ATMs. Viva Las Vegas for a collective 30^th birthday. Moments like these are perfect motivation for aging. To bright lights behind us and even brighter light ahead.

Pulled Pork Sandwiches with Barbecue Sauce

Adapted from Raven and Boar’s menu in Food and Wine

For the Pulled Pork

2 heads of garlic, halved crosswise

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling

Kosher salt

Pepper

1 tablespoon minced thyme

2 teaspoons dry mustard powder

2 teaspoons sweet paprika

2 teaspoons finely grated peeled fresh ginger

1 teaspoon finely grated orange zest

One 5-pound, bone-in pork butt (shoulder roast)

1/4 cup light brown sugar

1/4 cup distilled white vinegar

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

BARBECUE SAUCE

1 1/4 cups ketchup

1 cup cola

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

1/4 cup cayenne pepper hot sauce, such as Frank’s Red Hot

2 tablespoons unsulfured molasses

2 tablespoons cornstarch

Split potato buns

Preheat the oven to 350°. Arrange the garlic cut side up on a sheet of foil, drizzle with oil and season with salt and pepper. Wrap the garlic in the foil and roast for about  1 hour, until very soft. Let cool, then squeeze the garlic cloves out of the skins into a medium bowl. Add the thyme, mustard powder, paprika, ginger, orange zest and the 1/4 cup of oil and mash into a paste.

Reduce the oven temperature to 300°. Set a rack in a flameproof medium roasting pan and put the pork on it. Season the pork with salt and pepper, then rub it all over with the garlic paste. Roast for 6 hours, until an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the meat registers 200°; uncover for the last 45 minutes of cooking. Transfer to a work surface and let cool, then shred. Discard the fat and bones.

Spoon off all but 2 tablespoons of fat from the roasting pan. Add the sugar, both vinegars and 1/2 cup of water to the pan and cook over moderately high heat, whisking, until bubbling and the sugar dissolves,  5 minutes. Add the pork and toss to coat. Season the pork generously with salt and pepper and toss again; keep warm.

Then, in a saucepan, whisk the ketchup, cola, vinegar, hot sauce, molasses and cornstarch and bring to a boil. Simmer over moderate heat, stirring, until glossy and thick, 8 minutes; keep warm.

Pile the pork on the buns and top with the barbecue sauce and coleslaw.

Haiku #65 (Mar 6)

Confetti cannon.

Blessed reunion begins

As a red rope lifts.

Haiku #66 (Mar 7)

Old-fashioned as a

Yardbird, bones brewed to a broth,

Wings crisped and peppered.

Haiku #67 (Mar 8)

Flamingo kneecaps,

Among other surprising

Body parts. Vegas.

Haiku #68 (Mar 9)

Pumpkins and ghost peak

From under snow; we pick up

Where October left.

Thai-Glazed Corn Shrimp Dumplings

I have been tickling my dendrites with jazz, coating my tongue in dark chocolate, and then the word dumpling happened, and I felt Minnesota leak under the windowpanes like a draft. Dump-ling. It sounds like what it dares to do to me. But, oh. With Thai glaze—not so dumpy. I’m headed to a warm place, even with this Minnesota state of mind.

Thai-Glazed Corn Shrimp Dumplings

Adapted from Food and Wine

2-3 ears of corn, shucked, kernels cut off the cob

1/2 pound shelled and deveined shrimp, chopped

2 scallions, minced

2 teaspoons minced garlic

2 teaspoons minced peeled fresh ginger

½ cup unsweeted coconut milk

¼ cup soy sauce

2 TB light brown sugar

1 TB fish sauce

1 TB lime juice

Kosher salt

20 small, round gyoza wrappers (pot sticker papers I used)

Soy sauce, for dipping

In a saute pan, cook down coconut milk, soy sauce, brown sugar, fish sauce, and lime juice with the garlic, ginger and corn until thickened. Add shrimp and scallions and season with salt. Brush the edges of the wrappers with water and spoon 1 tablespoon of the filling in the center of each. I know, these pictures are kind of nasty. But trust me, these the goods.

Fold one side of the wrapper over to form a half moon, pressing the edges together to seal. In a steamer basket, steam the dumplings over simmering water until cooked through, 3 to 4 minutes. Serve with soy sauce. YUM!

Haikus!!

Haiku #58 (Feb 27)

Choiceless awareness

Is watching your thoughts as though

‘Twere children playing.

Haiku #59 (Feb 28)

Birthday hatted friends

Are waiting for you inside.

Surprise needs no knock.

Haiku #60 (Mar 1)

The burnt skin on the

Right hand has been subsumed by

Cells with better plans.

Haiku #61 (Mar 2)

Today celebrate

With me the bright day the one

Who bore me was borne.

Haiku #62 (Mar 3)

Conviction is a

Closed loop obstruction of heart

Open that chest, stat.

Haiku #63 (Mar 4)

Bedraggled season.

Winter: for the soul, like new

Yogurt for the bowel.

Haiku #64 (Mar 5)

Your prayer with a stroke

Is the tide pool beyond dead

Brain, a Penumbra.

Almond Toffee Tart

The classic show up to a party a week early and no one is home—that was Saturday. There is such a flurry of socializing in this three week count-down to Match Day, with all the fourth years on didactics (read: we are sleeping normal hours, or not, because we are enjoying each other’s company and eating 3x normal human portions on a daily basis, because we can). And in the flurry, my dates got mixed up and I brought this lovely tart to a non-party. It really is a fetching pastry, if I do say so myself. I struggle to photograph food, but this tart was like a Julia Roberts of food. Couldn’t help being beautiful.

Almond Toffee Tart

Adapted from Penzeys

Pastry:

2 Cups flour

3 TB. sugar

3/4 Cup cold butter, 11/2 sticks, cut in chunks

2 eggs

Filling:

1 1/2 Cups heavy (whipping) cream

1 1/2 Cups sugar

1/2 tsp. grated lemon peel

1/4 tsp. salt

2 Cups sliced almonds or coarsely chopped hazelnuts

1/2 tsp. vanilla

1/4 tsp. almond extract

Preheat oven to 325°. For the pastry, in a large bowl combine the flour and sugar. Work the butter into the mix using your hands until the mixture resembles fine crumbs. Add the eggs and stir with a large fork until the dough holds together. If you have a food processor, you can pulse together the flour, sugar and butter and then add the eggs and pulse again, but be careful not to over-mix into a wet ball. Press the dough evenly over the bottom and up the sides of a greased and floured 11-12-inch tart pan with a removable bottom.

Place the tart pan on a baking sheet and bake at 325° for about 15 minutes or until pale gold. Remove from the oven and set aside. Raise the oven temperature to 375°.

For the filling: in a 2-3-qt. saucepan, combine the cream, sugar, lemon peel and salt. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring regularly, about 5-8 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium and cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the nuts, vanilla and almond extract. Spread the mixture into the pastry shell.

Place the tart on the baking sheet and bake at 375° until lightly browned, about 35 minutes for a 12-inch tart and 40 minutes for an 11-inch tart. Cool in the pan on a wire rack just until warm to the touch. Remove the sides of the pan. If you are making this a day ahead, cover lightly.

I have a stack of haikus on the bedside table at home—will get those into a post soon, for those who only care about the haiku resolution.

Bulldog Birthday Cake

Izzy the Tooth is six years old.

I am aware that I photograph my bulldog more than I would a firstborn human. Izzy, however, is not aware that she is not, in fact, a firstborn human. I’m beginning to wonder if occasions like her birthday, on which she gets fed ample, extra portions of treats and cheese, set her up to resent us the remainder of the year for under-feeding her, by comparison. It’s hard to tell with her if resentment is a feeling or an unfortunate folding of the face. Happy Birthday, Dear Izzy. Thanks for years and years of joy.

I made Izzy (okay, I made myself) a cake shaped like a dog bone, a very simple design:

And no, Izzy did not get to eat any of the chocolate-frosted part. But I did give her some of the cake cut outs from the edge.

Haiku #56 (Feb 25)

Thwart antagonists,

Natural and corporate,

with a strong stillness.

Haiku #57 (Feb 26)

Internal birthday

Clocks do not exist. Friends must

Bring you candles, cake.

I Live Under the Corn Tower Chowder

The preparation of “Rank Order Lists,” a tragic game of favorites used to match medical students with their residency institutions, is a phenomenon I’d also liken to Box of Lies, a Jimmy Fallon mixer that KP and I appropriated this year for our annual Christmas present-as-prize spectacle with our families.

The awkward chicanery on both sides of the interview window and the romantic sequelae which follow can drive an earnest medical student into a primitive regressed stage of anxiety. Fortunately, I avoided the fetal position, but have become embarrassingly hyper-vigilant, having checked the NRMP website about twelve times this morning to pinch myself into the assurance that I’ve actually certified the thing correctly. Next stop: Match Day– when what lurks within the box is made known, for better or for worse.

Meanwhile, on to stress-eating. This here is not a healthy soup, but oh heavens, is it comfort food. And there are enough servings to feed a conga line of 25 nervous medical students. I dedicate this one to my hometown landmark:

I Live Under the Corn Tower Chowder

Adapted from Penzeys

8 oz. bacon, chopped

1/4 Cup olive oil

6 Cups chopped yellow onions (4 large)

4 TB. Butter

1/2 Cup flour

2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. ground black pepper

1/2 tsp. turmeric

12 Cups chicken stock

6 Cups medium white potatoes, unpeeled, diced (2 lbs.)

10 Cups corn kernels (10 large ears)

2 Cups half & half

1/2 lb. sharp white cheddar cheese, grated

Directions

In a large pot, cook the bacon in the olive oil over medium-high heat until the bacon is crisp. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside on a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Reduce the heat to medium; add the onions and butter and cook for 10 minutes. Stir in the flour, salt, pepper and turmeric; cook, stirring, until thick and creamy—about 3 minutes.

Add the chicken stock and potatoes. Bring to a boil and simmer, uncovered, until the potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes. If using fresh corn, cut the kernels off the cobs and blanch for 3 minutes in boiling salted water and then drain. Reduce heat to low, add the corn to the soup, and then add the half & half and cheddar. Cook for 5 more minutes until the cheese is melted. Season to taste and serve hot with a garnish of bacon.

Enjoy. And stop rocking back and forth like Harlow’s monkey. Everything will be fine. Even if you match at McDonalds.

Haiku #54 (Feb 23)

In some dimension

Of space-time, my underpants

Smell of fresh baked goods.

Haiku #55 (Feb 24)

Red nails lacquered in

“Sophistication, with a

Hint of bad choices.”