SERIOUS PARTY PIG

     What happened to "tomorrow?"  Yesterday now, and I haven't given you Chalupas.  That will be today's topic, to keep my little declension going.

     This is a recipe dating from our Midwest ex-pat group back in the day.  Which included Dorsey and Tom Pierce from North Dakota.  They don't actually speak Fargo, but they can light up a room with it if you ask them nicely.  

     The belief that the jello-pineapple concoction can be considered a green salad is 

true . . . you simply have to use lime jello when you make it.  But the real point is:  when you have to survive weeks of sub-zero weather, frozen pipes, frozen batteries, with only ice-fishing to brighten the days, you need to know your way around pork and beans.  Dorsey does.  Here's her recipe:

Chalupas

3 # pork roast, cut into 4-5 large chunks

1 # pinto beans

2 pods garlic, chopped

2 TBS chile powder

2 TBS cumin

1 tsp. oregano

1 4-oz can chopped green chiles

2-3 TBS salt

Yes, two whole pods of garlic.  It's okay.  Just do it.

Put all ingredients into a pot and add water to cover.  Cook for 6 hours, low heat, covered, or until beans are soft and the meat falling apart.  Maybe only 3 hours -- use your judgment.  Add water as needed to keep pork submerged.

Take meat out and shred.  Cook beans 1 hour longer, until thickened.  Reintroduce the meat and taste for seasoning.  It helps if you use a scoop of Fritos for this to get the total effect.  Or you can tell your mate that if you get caught in the act.

Have bowls of the following available for self service around the meat/bean mix, and dish up in this order:

1. Fritos (either scoops or regular)

2. Chalupas

3. Grated cheese (cheddar, pepper jack, as you like)

4.  chopped onion

5.  shredded lettuce

6.  diced tomatoes

7.  diced avocado

8.  salsa or taco sauce or both.  A little sour cream would not be amiss here, but sour cream might be a bit too fancy for North Dakotans. 

Note the simplicity, the make-ahead quality, the potential for extemporaneous additions.  This is perfect for watching the endless football games on the 1st.  And it's really crazy good!

The last Christmas Cookie recipe you'll ever really need.

     As an experiment, at the promting of my mentor in all things computer, Allsion, I'm going to "share" this to my FaceBook page.  Who knows what that will look like?

     My kitchen smells this morning, not of cinnamon and cloves, but garlic and fish sauce.  Merry Christmas?  The pickle queens have been at it again.
     But I'm not going to give you the recipe for kimchi, the Korean condiment responsible for the unlikely aromas in my house -- you will never make it, and I probably won't again.  What are you supposed to do with kimchi?  My cooking buddy Vik, my co-queen has munched it alongside a pastrami on rye, and stirred it into scrambled eggs, and claims it's fabulous, but I'm not there yet.  We'll see.
     What I have in mind today are first, cookies.  Yes, I know, you think the last thing you need is another cookie recipe at this late date, but you're wrong, if you don't already have Grandma Viehl's Melting Moments.
     When I met my mother-in-law, I began to understand what might be possible in the kitchen.  She made an ordinary "cold meat" sandwich transcend it's limits, baked yeast rolls that pulled apart in etherial strands of a buttery sacrament . . . oh there, I said it.  Butter.  Okay, back in Oregon, we had a cow, we had a butter churn and knew how to use it, and yet my mom decided somewhere along the line to squeeze orange food coloring into white footballs of vegetable shortening.  I'm sure she had her reasons.  Come on, it sounds lovely, but milking a cow and making butter is hard work, added to raising 4 daughters, raising all our fruit and vegetables and then canning and freezing it, sewing all our clothes, and so on when you don't have much money and a husband gone all the time.  So I forgive her, but oh man, butter?
     I was pretty parochial about our Christmas cookies, which really didn't need butter:  springerlie, vanilla strips?  Well, okay the Wandering Jews did want butter, but of course they got what we called oleo.  (What an awful word).  But Myrtle was of the Lutheran, Swedish persuasion, so she made spritz -- which were pretty good and have joined my repertory.  But the ones that converted me from the German tradition prevailing back here in Oregon were the above mentioned Melting Moments.  They're so easy you can make them in minutes, and really, you just should.  Here's to Mrytle Viehl.

MELTING MOMENTS

1 cup butter, softened
2/3 cup corn starch
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour.

Beat these things together until they form a mass.  Form into balls, the size of well, bigger than marbles, smaller than golf balls.  Use corn starch on your hands instead of flour to work these.  Place them on cookie sheets, then flatten somewhat with a thumb dusted with  the corn starch.  Bake at 400 degrees, for 10 minutes.  Depending on your oven, you might prefer 375 for a bit longer.  Watch them carefully.  You want them to be just slightly brown around the bottom edges.

Remove to a rack and cool

For the frosting:

2 TBS butter
2 TBS milk
1 cup powdered sugar
green food coloring

Melt the butter with the milk in a bowl in the micro.  When bubbly, combine with the powdered sugar and food coloring.  You need the food coloring or they won't be Melting Moments.  Frost the cookies.  Store them carefully between sheets of waxed paper and then try to protect them from the pirates living with you.

We're all tired now, so I'm going to post this and tell you about Chalupas tomorrow.  You're going to want Chalupas for your New Years football-watching parties.  Easy, and honestly, your guests will want the recipe too . . .

SECRET INGREDIENT NO. 2

     Already getting dark and it's only 4:30?  Yep, must be winter coming on.  Snow down to 500 feet tonight, they say, but we've been disappointed before.  In any case, we made the trip to Les Schwab for tire chains to get us across the Siskyous next week.  There is always hope!
     I made a very unfortunate decision to try a program called Farm to Fit this week, and Larry and I have been suffering the consequences.  It's a local enterprise providing chef-cooked meals for a period of the customer's choosing, in my case, 5 days.  I did this at the suggestion of my so-called trainer at the gym, and I should have considered the vast differences between her needs and mine before jumping.  As in, she's a young, new mom, probably with only a slight acquaintance with the stove in her high-rise condo . . .      Anyway, the food is fresh, local, and fits a profile of calories, again customer's choice.
     The first two or three offerings were okay, and then the meals sank to dismal.  We had to pick up the remainder of the pre-paid meals this afternoon, and performed triage on the kitchen counter -- which items could be frozen to await our return from California after Thanksgiving.  And stared at the food we'll have to choke down tonight and tomorrow.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry!  Jenny Craig was never this bad!  I did think it would be an easy way to get through a few exceedingly busy days.  But if there's a bright side, it is the pleasure with which we look forward to leaving home on Monday morning.
     To that end, I'm sending out my recipe for pie crust, with the usual preamble:  I used to be able to create perfect crusts that rolled out smoothly and tasted good, and then I couldn't.  I suspected a change in the composition of all-purpose flour, or atmospheric disturbance, anything but flawed technique.  Finally a cooking magazine came to the rescue, Cooks Magazine, to give credit where due.  This magazine, and the cookbooks they churn out have an m.o. that is sort-of interesting, sort-of annoying -- they attempt to perfect a given dish, then walk the reader through all the steps, usually including a consultation with a food scientist.  On this one beautiful day, pie crust was the object of their attention.  And the secret ingredient is:  Vodka.  Really.  Here's how it goes.

Foolproof Pie Dough

2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 oz) all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 TBS sugar
12 TBS cold butter, cut into 1/4 inch bits
1/2 cup cold Crisco, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold Vodka
1/4 cup cold water

1.  Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in processor, about two 1-second pulses.  Add butter and shortening and process until homogenous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour.)  Scrape bowl with spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade.  Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mix is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses.  Empty mix into medium bowl.

2.  Sprinkle Vodka and water over mix.  With spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together (think Play-Doh)  Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disks.  Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes.

Note:  This easily makes enough for 3 full-size pie-plate crusts, so if making one double crust pie, I typically would make a 2/3 size recipe.  However, I learned that I can freeze the disks, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, so usually do make the whole lot.  Also, I have taken to making 6-7" pies for the two of us, and in that case, divide the dough accordingly and freeze 5 or 6 nice little disks.

The explanation of the magic is that the Vodka dissipates in the baking (you can't taste or get a buzz from it), but it allows enough liquid to make the dough easy to roll out and place on the plate.  The result is a flaky, and yet beautiful crust.  And no, my darlings, I haven't tried it with gin!

P.S. I don't know why Vodka always appears capitalized -- obviously proprietary, but I don't know what or who this Vodka may be.

Now, on to California!  Sunshine! (Please)

SECRET INGREDIENT

     Because my dad was an only child, and my mom's two siblings lived in Ohio, my sisters and I grew up with little benefit of cousins.  We did have three, all girls, that we knew about, but our only connection was in the form of boxes of hand-me-down clothes.  Which I, for one, cherished.  No offense, Mom, but the time you made all of us dresses out of a single bolt of cloth?  Does anyone hear the Sound of Music?
     Then we all grew up, had children, and to our great surprise, cousin Mary Chandler moved to the Portland area with her family, moved to an acreage in the country.  She was wonderfully talented, making exquisite doll houses, painting, and, here's the point of today's post, she was a great cook.  From her I learned a little secret which I'll share with you now:  curry powder.
     How many times do you taste something you've made from a recipe which should work, but just doesn't have it.  It's flat, missing something -- maybe umami, but this story comes from a pre-umami time in American history.  So you start adding lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, catsup, maybe, more salt, cayenne?  For me, almost anything can be improved with some white wine, thyme, lemon juice, and a dash of curry powder.  Note I said a dash.  The point is that it remain subliminal.  It does it's best work incognito.
     To prove my point, here's my favorite post-Thanksgiving dish to make with leftover turkey:  Turkey Tetrazzini.  Recipe from a long-lost magazine collection, I think published by McCalls.   It was fine, okay, and then I discovered the curry powder, thyme, lemon juice, which make this recipe OUR recipe, not McCalls.

     First, you have to have made broth from the roasted turkey carcass, which can sit on low heat all day while you start on your Christmas cards.  To make the broth, you toss all the bones, gristly bits, the wings, neck, whatever you don't otherwise eat into a pot of water to cover.  Add a stick of celery, leaves included, a handful of peppercorns and half an onion, if you like.  You will already have packaged the lovely meat which you've carved from the bones and stored in the refrig.  Eventually you strain the long-simmered broth and pick off the remaining bits of meat to be eaten out of hand, with a sprinkle of salt.
     Now you're ready for the Tetrazzini:  This makes quite a lot, which is a good thing.

3/4 cup butter
3/4 cup flour
salt
1/8 tsp nutmeg (this is so slight you can certainly leave it out)
1 quart milk
2 cups turkey broth
4 egg yolks
1 cup cream
1/2 sherry
a judicious amount of curry powder, lemon juice, and thyme to taste -- this is up to you.

1 pound spaghetti noodles
6 cups turkey meat
1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced, sauteed separately in a skillet with butter
8 oz. cheddar cheese, grated

Make a roux with the butter, flour, and salt.  Slowly add milk and turkey broth, heat, stir until thick.  Beat the egg yolks with cream just until blended.  Stir some of the hot mixture into the egg/cream, stirring steadily, add more until you've tempered the eggs.  Then pour the egg/cream/sauce mixture back into the remaining hot mixture and turn down the heat.  Continue to stir until smooth.  Now add the sherry and seasonings, tasting all the while until you get it right.  You want it to be assertive because it loses strength when mixed with the spaghetti.  You may even add some cayenne here, depending on your audience.  Now the meat and the sauteed mushrooms go in. Check for salt.

Cook the spaghetti until done to your liking, then drain. Combine everything in a casserole.  Top with shredded cheese.

Bake, uncovered at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.
The end.  But wait!

You will still have lots of broth, so will probably also want to make soup.  Good idea.  Here's one:  You just have to use however much of anything you think appropriate, but I'll give you suggestions.

Saute some mushrooms in a soup pot with butter until golden brown.  Set mushrooms aside and, in same skillet, saute some chopped onion (maybe a half onion would be about right) and green pepper (again, a half) until softened.  Add 2 TBS butter and 3 TBS flour.  Cook roux until slightly brown.  Add let's say 2 - 3 cups broth, slowly, stirring so you don't have lumps.
Separately cook 2 russet potatoes, cubed, and carrot cubes (about 1/2# cubes), and when done, add to soup.  Add the mushrooms back in.
Add a handful of noodles, salt and pepper, thyme, sliced water chestnuts (fresh if you can find them -- they're amazing!)
Simmer until the noodles are done.  Add more broth until you're satisfied with the ratio of liquid to solids.  Because you made the broth, it probably will need a shocking amount of salt.  Don't worry, if you used commercial broth it would already have the salt in it and you wouldn't know how much.  JUST KEEP TASTING!  This should do it, but
it wouldn't hurt to add a splash of white wine, some lemon juice and yes, a tiny skiff of curry, but not enough that you can taste it, you'll simply sense its warm presence.

That's it for left-over turkey recipes, but what's wrong with turkey sandwiches with lots of mayo, with bacon and lettuce (some restaurants serve their sandwiches with cranberry sauce and cream cheese, but I'm not a convert to that philosophy. However, there's lots of time, and you should try anything once)? Can't wait!

TIME

     Time's been playing tricks on us this last week.  We slept an hour late, toured the house, turning the clocks back, had coffee, read the paper before we noticed anything unusual.  Our phones hadn't turned back automatically.  Not to worry, Larry knew how to do it manually.  And so life proceeded.  I walked up to 23rd for my 2:00 haircut, but arrived there at 3:00.  What?  Missed my appointment.  Only then did the light's go on.  Not Halloween weekend this year, daylight saving's time would continue until the following weekend.  Feeling quite silly, I walked back home, shaggy hair and all.
     But's it's always Halloween weekend, Larry protested, as he had been the leader in this affair.  Okay.  We set the clocks forward again, realizing that the mistake would at least afford us another hour sleep-in the following Sunday.  Silver lining.
     On Thursday, L had a 7 o'clock breakfast meeting at the Art Museum.  Not wishing to be late, he set his internal alarm, rarely known to fail (all those earlier years of catching planes to Detroit, N.Y.), and fell asleep.  At about 1:00, I woke to strange noises in the closet.  Hmm.  No Larry beside me, so I got up to investigate.  "What are you doing?" I asked the wild-eyed man in his dress shirt and underwear, struggling to tie his necktie.
     "I have to be downtown in 7 minutes!"  he said.
     "Larry, it's one o'clock in the morning."
     I really really tried hard not to laugh, had to smother the giggles in my pillow as he flopped back down beside me.  "Couldn't see the damn clock," he said.  Then I did lose it, but he didn't join me in thinking this was so funny.
     The next morning I told him that he might just keep his cell phone on his bedside table.  Want to see the time, just click the button and there is is, all lit up and large print.  Good idea, which he proceeded to follow the next night, as he had a golf game in the morning.  Worked like a charm, except he forgot to take the phone with him on the way to the course.  So Robb was unable to advise him that the course had posted a three-hour frost delay.

     And here we are, staring at the approach of Thanksgiving.  Time.

     Time for cranberries.  I have two recipes today, a traditional and an experimental.  Tradition first:  This has been the family cranberry sauce for years now.  I don't remember where I came across it, so the author will have to remain unknown.

Cranberry-Lime Chutney

2 cups fresh cranberries (ALWAYS pick over cranberries before using)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 large orange, peeled, cut into 1/4 inch slices
1 TBS grated lime zest
3 TBS fresh orange juice
1 medium tart apple, pared, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup water
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/8 tsp. each ginger, dry mustard, allspice

Stir all ingredients into a non-corrodible pan.  Heat to boiling, simmer 45 minutes.

Note:  I usually use the spices more generously than suggested -- depends on how long they've been sitting in the spice drawer.

That's it, Happy Thanksgiving.

The second recipe comes from a favorite cookbook:  COLD WEATHER COOKING, by Sarah Leah Chase.  It's called Nantucket Cranberry Relish, (and this cookbook is worth trying to find -- probably at the used-book sale at the library, but maybe on Amazon.)
An aside:  I have a quarrel with cookbook indexes.  This recipe is listed under "N" for Nantucket, and yes, that's it's name, but who remembers that?  Please, authors, file such recipes under "C" for cranberry!  Please!

Okay, I'm a little obsessed with this one, still trying to make it work, so maybe you can figure it out.  I'll offer you the "as-is" formula, then discuss the problems I have with it. Why bother?  I love it so much I can't walk past the refrigerator without helping myself to a spoon-ful.  Here goes:

1 1/2 pounds fresh cranberries
1 lime
1 tangerine
3/4 cup light brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
scant pinch of ground cloves
3 TBS orange liqueur
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted

1.  Process cranberries until coarsely chopped.  Transfer to mixing bowl
2.  Cut lime and tangerine, peel and all, into 1/2 inch pieces.  Remove any seeds and process until fruit is finely chopped.  Add to cranberries.
3.  Add sugars, liqueur and cloves, stir to combine.  Taste for sweetness and adjust if it seems too tart.  Fold in pine nuts and allow to mellow in refrigerator over night.

First, I'm not fond of pine nuts, so always leave them out.  Personal preference here, do what you like.

The trouble starts with step two.  At the first attempt, the processor make mush of the fruit while steadfastly refusing to mince the peel.  Second attempt, I sliced off the peel and minced it with a knife, which was fine, though a lot of work.  But the processor still turned the fruit to mush.  Third attempt, I grated the peel, then peeled the fruit and chopped it by hand.  This seems the best procedure so far.  This last time, I tried to persuade the processor to mince the peel alone, without the fruit, but this failed, so I removed the chunks and finished the job by hand.  Back to Attempt # 3, which I now advise.

Next, sugar content:  I'm trying to wean myself from my sugar addiction, so  sweetened the mix with a combination of coconut sugar and coconut syrup, both of which are supposed to be very low-glycemic, and a final couple of tablespoons of Turbinado raw cane sugar.  Agave syrup would work as well.  These sweeteners are available at Whole Foods.  You have to just keep tasting to get the correct amount, but it worked perfectly.  Can't tell the difference, so if you're also cutting down on sugar, go for it.

The sun is shining, we are safely observing Pacific Standard Time, so all is well.  Time to get into the kitchen to make broccoli salad for lunch.

STONE SOUP

     "We should have this salad more often," Larry says.  Well, that's the problem, isn't it?  Maybe I should call this post Stone Salad.  Here's how it works:

You'll need a bag of baby spinach.  No problem.  ( I hope you pull the stems off the spinach before serving it to anyone . . . I never feel more like a large farm animal than when I'm forking a bite of that mesclun, or baby spinach, into my mouth and having to deal with the stems, which never quite make it entirely inside.  I don't care if all the Vitamin C resides in the stems.)
How about some basil, whole, which you just harvested before the predicted frost turns all the bright greenery to compost.  Snip the leaves off into the bowl of spinach.
Some red onion, sliced whisper thin, maybe soaked for the duration of cocktail hour in cold water to mitigate it's intensity.
Half an avocado, chunked.
A good start.  What else is in the refrigerator?
Aha!  Here's where this recipe takes off.  That lovely grilled, lime-scented corn which friend Viki gave you last week.  That would be so good (and it was), but you have to have been lucky enough to know Vik.  Maybe you have something of the sort yourself.
And that piece of smoked chicken breast?  Absolutely.
Anything else?  Well, now for the dressing.
A clove a garlic, mashed into a paste with some large salt crystals, preferably acquired at that cute little salt shop over on the other side of the river.
A few tablespoons of red wine vinegar, about twice as much olive oil.  Put these things into a pint mason jar so you can shake them into emulsion.
Now the recipe you may have been following, sort of, suggests 2 teaspoons of sugar.  Really?  In an olive-oil based dressing.  Hmm.  I decided not.  Might have been good, but I'll never know.
Pour the dressing over, toss everything together.  More salt?  Pepper?  You just have to taste it, always the cook's special appetizer course.

That's how it goes.  At our house, Larry will say: "We use more spoons than any other family I know!"  I think, but do not say, How do we know how many spoons other families may use?  Still, he is right.  If we want a fork, we reach into the silverware drawer.  If we want a spoon, it's most likely in the dishwasher, not washed, of course.  So, in the interest of scientific inquiry, how many spoons do each of you use in the course of a dishwasher's cycle?  There seems to be some difficulty in commenting on this blog, but if you'd try again, I would really like to know the answer.  Just how weird are we?

Now, at 8:00 in the evening, Larry is beginning to make a pot of chile for us to take across the mountains tomorrow.  It has been cold here lately, and I hope we may find snow at elevation tomorrow.  The winter lights are showing on all the trees along the city streets, Halloween decorations up.  It's still dark late into the morning, and a season has turned.  Trick or treat, and goodnight.

THE RIVER

     My so-called trainer, from the gym across the street, has been on maternity leave for several months, therefore, I'm on maternity leave as well.   A darn good excuse, but not quite good enough.  The weather has been fine, we live short blocks from the river, I have a step-counter and a nodding acquaintance with the idea of 10,000 steps a day, so life, now, looks like this.  We wake, we brush our teeth, get dressed and head out to walk along the Willamette.
     Here's what we saw, today:  a freighter loading with wheat, we suppose, the letters on its side proclaiming Happy Results! under a Chinese character presumably making the same claim.  It has sunk lower since yesterday, and must be shortly on its way across the Pacific.  A fisherman down the tumbled rocks of the river bank, his coffee steaming beside the pole he judiciously adjusts to attract a salmon passing upstream to spawn.  A fat man walking a tiny dog (his wife's?).  A yellow tug positioning twin barges loaded with gravel, aiming downstream.  Trains maneuvering along the east bank, whistles shrill against the morning sunlight.  Above all, the whisper of a half moon in the bright sky, looking like a broken button, of no consequence.
     This blog is supposed to be about recipes, about family.  And on my return to my computer I learn that Roger has to wait another two weeks to learn, we hope, finally, how the doctors will plan to remove the shoe from his chest.  How long oh Lord?
     That's the family part, for this post.
     As for a recipe?  Thinking about the lone fisherman, here is a favorite of long standing.  The kind to which the cookbook automatically opens when you take it from the shelf.  In this case, Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home.  It's not the sort of meal that your kids will love, but it's easy when you're just cooking for the grown-ups.  The recipe, which I'll copy exactly, says it's for two people.  In my opinion you don't need quite that much rice, but you should probably start with the stated amount and down-size next time if you agree.

2 firm fish fillets or steaks, 5 - 6 oz. each (halibut, after many iterations, my favorite)
1 cup cooked rice
2 cups coarsely chopped bok choy
2 scallions, chopped
sliced water chestnuts (as many as seem right to you)
1 TBS vegetable oil
1 tsp. grated ginger root
1 garlic clove, minced or pressed
2 TBS soy sauce
2 tsp. sesame oil
chili oil (optional)

(See below for editorial comments)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Take two 12 x 24 inch sheets aluminum foil, fold each to make a double thick square.  Brush a little oil in the center part of each square.
Spread half the rice on the center of each square, then layer the bok choy, fish, scallions on top of the rice.
In a small bowl, combine ginger, garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil and a few drops of chili oil if desired.
Pour half the sauce over each serving.  Carefully fold into airtight packets.  Bake for 20 minutes.
To serve, carefully open packet and transfer the contents to plates or bowls.

Comments:
1.  Brown rice is best.  You can use leftover rice from last night, or make the rice specifically for this recipe.
2.  I haven't tried this with salmon, but I think it would work.
3.  I make one and a half times the sauce recipe, as we like it deeper in flavor than as suggested by the author.  And always use the chili oil.
4.  You can make the packets up and put them in the refrig for a few hours ahead of time.
5.  The packets have never leaked, but you should put them on a cookie sheet or tray in the oven, in case.

See, pretty easy, and the halibut, being steamed in the aromatics is fabulous.  Yum!


     

PAELLA SALAD

     So my friend Molly sends me an e-mail:"See you tonight at Meriwethers!"  I stare at the computer, shocked.  What?  It's not that I hadn't remembered, I simply have no memory at all of making dinner plans with her.  I scare myself.  However, anyone would drop everything to have dinner with Molly, you would, too, so of course I jump at the chance.  "See you there!"  Actually, I had nothing to drop, wasn't doing anything, no plans, so kind of a win-win, except for the big blank space in my head.
     Turns out the mistake was on Molly's calendar, not in my brain.  Whew.  We laugh, have a good dinner in the outdoor garden in the gentle evening air, lots of flowers in bloom, twinkly lights everywhere.  Perfect.  As was the scallop salad, which got me thinking about the following recipe.
     It's been a workhorse for me, and although it seems a little daunting, you can put the ingredients together the day before a party, if that's how you're planning to use this.
     Small digression here:  my first thought was to pass along a recipe for scallops which was the first Julia Child recipe I ever attempted, "Coquille St. Jacques a al Parisienne." It's truly wonderful, shows up in the first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  I dragged the stepladder out of the closet and into the kitchen so I could reach Julia, who lives on the top shelf (for no very good reason), and found the page.  But I would change nothing, so it seemed more sensible to simply point you to the recipe than copy it here.  I don't know if you can find it on line, but you really should have the book, anyway.
     Instead, this morning, here is "Paella Salad," as interpreted after many iterations.  This recipe comes from another favorite book, the Nantucket Open-House Cookbook, which I must have come across while visiting Jenny on the magical island that summer.  This cookbook is fat with recipes I like and is unusual in that I haven't simply parked on one or two recipes, but keep turning the pages for new treasures.
     I've cut the formula in half for you, but even so you will end up with a party-sized amount.  If this is just for 6 or 8 people, you can pare it down further (although it's darn good the next day as well, if you like left-overs)

1 quart chicken stock
1 1/2 tsp. curry powder
1/2 tsp. saffron threads
1/2 tsp. fennel seds
1/2 tsp. dried red pepper flakes
3 TBS olive oil
1/2 large red onion, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups long grain rice
1 whole boneless, skinless, chicken breast, cut into 1 inch chunks
1 1/2 pounds large shrimp, peeled, deveined, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 to 1 1/2 pounds fresh dry scallops
1 TBS each butter and oil
1/2 pound hot Italian sausage
3 ribs celery, chopped
1/2 bunch green onions, sliced
1 red pepper, seeded, small dice
1 yellow pepper, seeded, small dice
1/2 cup pitted black olives, sliced
2 cans marinated artichoke hearts, sliced
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 to 2 cups mayonaise
salt and pepper to taste

1.  Heat oil in large skillet.  Stir in onion and garlic, cook, stirring 5 minutes.  Add rice and stir to coat with oil.  Cook 2 minutes longer.  Stir in chicken stock.  Simmer, covered, until liquid has been absorbed (approx. 35-40 minutes).  (At this point you can put rice into large bowl, cover and refrigerate over night. )

2.  Chop the vegetables and add to rice mixture

3.  Saute sausage meat in skillet until cooked through, add to rice mix.  In the same skillet,  add oil if necessary, and saute chicken pieces until cooked through.  Add to mix.  In same skillet, saute shrimp until done, add to mix.  The flavors of all these meats will blend if you don't wipe out the skillet between one meat and another.

4.  Now clean skillet, return to burner and allow to get very hot.  Add butter and oil and then scallops.  Allow to sear on one side, then turn and sear other side until cooked through.  Cut into 1/2 inch pieces and add to mix.

5.  Add all vegetables and olives to mix and toss well.  Combine lemon juice and mayonnaise and pour over salad, tossing and mixing well.  Season to taste.  And that's it.

I like to cook all the meats and chop the veggies and keep everything in the refrig overnight.  Several hours before serving, set everything out to bring to room temperature, then combine everything and add the dressing.  Kind of a lot of prep, and this way, you can get the kitchen clean, go pick up the kids from school, take one of them to soccer, get pizza for dinner and have a great dish ready for the party the next night.
And don't forget to put Julia Child's volume on your letter to Santa, if you don't have it already!

SOUTHWESTERN QUICHE

     Everyone should have a daughter or two or three:  one to make her laugh, one to inspire her, one to teach her to dance.  In my case, that would be, in order of appearance in my life, Jenny, Allison, Caroline, each of whom contributed to this blog, to this day.

     Caroline loves English Country dancing, and is taking me to a dance Saturday next.  So I'd gone to the web for help, and it turns out, there is a great teaching site, illustrating the arcane language of this art form, including half-figure eights, a variety of "heys," and etc.  Has to do with walking around other individuals, couples, in a mannered way, accompanied by beautiful music.  On the way from my office to the kitchen, I thought I may as well try doing a few half-eights around the piano bench.  You know, practice?

     But what to make for breakfast?  This is where Jenny enters the story.  We have both made Southwestern Quiche when nothing else will do, and something about the early morning fog and a train whistle was making the choice obvious this morning.  I've made it for breakfast, dinner, parties, in Jenny's kitchen as well as my own, so by now, we pretty much own it.  Time to widen the circle.

     And while sliding the pantry shelves open, looking for a can of sliced olives, I was body-snatched by Allison.  I've got to clean those shelves!  Organize those cans of tomatoes and clams and pumpkin tapenade jumbled together any which way.  There are probably even expired goods in there!  Now!  Breakfast can wait!

     I came to myself after loading the first . . . is is a congregation of cans?  (a "murder of crows")  onto the kitchen counter, proceeded to make the quiche, but while it was in the oven, I did manage a couple of shelves, and yes, did the rest later.  But I wished Allison were there to make sense of the logic behind black beans vs. coconut milk, pancake syrup and sun-dried tomatoes.

     Anyway, here's the dance web-site:  rivkinetic.org/flash/ecdflash.htm, and below is the recipe for the quiche.

It starts with  a piecrust, with 1 tsp. chili powder added to the recipe, if you make it from scratch.  However, it's perfectly wonderful to make this without a crust, in individual ramekins.  Yes, I know, kids probably won't like this.  Sorry.  Kids grow up,

Filling:
3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 cup grated jack cheese (or other white cheese, like Gruyere)
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 1/2 cup half and half
1 4 oz. can green chiles, chopped
1 2 1/2 oz. can sliced black olives
2 TBs. finely chopped green onions

Note:  If you aren't using a crust, add 1 tsp. chili powder to egg and cream mix.

Mix cheeses together and spread on bottom of uncooked pastry shell, or individual ramekins.
Mix all remaining ingredients together, pour over cheese.

If baking in pie shell, bake 40-45 minutes at 350 degrees.
If using ramekins, place filled ramekins in baking pan large enough to hold them, pour hot water around them in the pan, and bake 40-45 minutes at 350 degrees.
The filling will puff up and crack on top when done.

This will make one 10 inch pie, or 4 to 5 ramekins, depending on their size.  Trick:  you don't have to bake all the ramekins at once (or any of them, for that matter.)  Put tinfoil over the top and freeze the little beauties until some other foggy morning when you feel like dancing, or not.  Let them thaw, then bake as above.


 

MINNESOTA DREAMING

Ninety four degrees here in Portland?  Wherever you are?  Close your eyes and imagine a tiny, two-bedroom, 1700 square foot house on Sandhurst Drive, St. Paul, MN.  You took the battery out of the car last night and are keeping it alive in the kitchen so you or your spouse/friend/sig other can go to work this morning.  After you shovel the driveway.  Don't worry about school, the kids are still too young to go to school, so you'll be cycling them into and out of their snow-suits, boots, mittens, hats, scarves all day.  Don't worry about tonight's dinner, you have plenty of jello for the salad, cream of mushroom soup and that nice pound of hamburger in the refrig for the entree, or for what is called hot dish, here in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes.
There.  Feeling better?
A group of ex-pats from the Mid-west (which is meant to include North Dakota), friends of ours here in sunny Portland, holds, on occasion, a party nostalgically celebrating food of memory from those frozen landscapes.  Maybe another time I'll give you the recipe for Mary Crane's Pineapple/Orange Salad (salad in MN is broadly defined), or Lynn Gardner's Cranberry Pudding, but for for today, we'll make do with Sandhurst Rolls.  The provenance of this recipe is uncertain, but I believe it originated from a neighbor behind our house up on County Road B (well, what county needed more than 26 roads, and there was the alphabet right handy).

It's a bit of a project, and definitely not healthy, but I guess I didn't worry about that while feeding my kids back in the day.  I promise these rolls are delicious, just be sure to make them when you can give most of them away:

SANDHURST ROLLS

1 pkg. dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup cold butter
1/2 cup cold Crisco (I warned you!  You can sub other veg. shortening if you can find it)
2 eggs
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tsp. vanilla

1 1/2 cups sugar
2 tsp. vanilla

Proof yeast in water.  Combine flour and salt.  Cut butter and Crisco into flour mix.  Add slightly beaten eggs, sour cream, vanilla, and yeast mixture, and stir to blend thouroughly.  Chill at least 2 hours.

Pour 2 Tbs. vanilla over sugar in bowl.  With fingers, incorporate vanilla into all sugar granules until they are uniformly blended.  (Just do it)  With dinner knife, cut the vanilla sugar into 6ths, as if you were cutting up a pie.

Divide dough in half, and proceed as follows:  Scoop out one of the 6ths of sugar and place onto rolling surface (counter, board, whatever), smoothing it into the approximate size of your lump of dough.  Press dough into sugar, and turn over to press other side into the sugar.  With rolling pin, roll the dough into a narrow oblong.
Now scoop out a second 6th of sugar.  Smooth it onto the top of your oblong, and onto the rolling surface.  (The sugar will act as flour if you were rolling out pie crust.  Get it?)  Fold the oblong into thirds, then roll again into the narrow oblong.
Do this folding and rolling one more time.  Each time is creating layers of the scented sugar.
Now cut the oblong in widths, each slice about 1/2 wide.  You'll have 10-12 pieces, 3-4 inches long and 1/2 inch wide.  Tuck this piece into a little shape, like part of a bow or a snail and place on baking tray.

Repeat with second half of dough and remaining 3 6ths of sugar.

Bake at 375 degrees for 15 - 20 minutes, watching closely.  If your oven tends to burn the bottoms of cookies, be careful, the sugar will definitely burn if given a chance.  If you have a rimmed baking sheet, you can place the cookie sheet on top of the rimmed sheet in the oven, creating a buffer from the bottom element of your oven.

If you want these for Sunday breakfast, instead of donuts, for example, you can make up the dough Saturday night and leave in the refrig overnight, covered with plastic wrap, of course.  Roll and bake in the morning.  Remember, only 3 1/2 more months until that white Christmas, which, if you lived in Minnesota instead of just being born there, is a promise and a guarantee.  Meanwhile, enjoy the sunshine!

SMOKING ALLOWED

     Adjustments have to be made when you move to a roof top -- for instance, you will have to take an elevator to your front door.  Never my favorite.  The weekly groceries have to be brought up from the parking garage in a cart, which then has to go back to the basement.  The newspaper is delivered to the lobby and you have to get dressed before retrieving it to accompany your morning coffee.  Ditto the mail.
     But some things are too important to give up.  Like barbecue.  Smoked ribs.  Pulled pork.  Chicken.  Turns out we don't have to give them up.  We imagine that our neighbors believe the delicious smell of smokey 'cue is coming from Irving Street Kitchen downstairs.

   
     Here's the little red smoker which Larry uses to turn out his beautiful recipes.

I do understand that women can be pit masters, or make that pit mistresses, but in this family, it's a guy thing.  Larry has already sent off his formula for ribs to Peter and Tom, and if you are interested, David, you have but to say the word!
     However, today, we will be discussing chicken.  We'll get to pork another day.

     Larry's recipe for a whole chicken, or two chickens, in fact.  Why not?

Two whole chickens, 3 to 4 pounds each, insides pulled out and disposed of, washed, and patted dry.  That's it for ingredients.   (There are lots rub recipes out there if you want to get fancy, but smoking the chicken by itself is pretty good.)

Note:  If I am so lucky as to find livers in there, I fry them up with butter while Larry excuses himself from witnessing this appalling exercise)

To continue:
Soak wood for the smoker (Larry likes to use wood chunks, rather than chips) for 20 minutes.  Put wet wood in smoker and preheat to 220 degrees.
Place birds in smoker, breast down.  Smoke for 3 1/2 to 4 hours, turning the birds over half way through the process.
When done, the legs should move freely and the internal temperature will be 180 to 185 degrees, determined with an instant read thermometer.  If the chickens are not done in the 4 hour time span, you may want to remove them to the oven, 350 degrees, until desired internal temperature is reached.

Let rest 15 minutes before serving.
That's it!

The chickens will look beautiful, but there is some disagreement in this family about the edibility of that burnished skin.  Let's be honest:  I don't like it, and set my portion aside.
You'll have to decide for yourselves.

Now, what to do with two smoked chickens?  It's delicious that first moment, but that's a lot of meat!  So after the dishes are done and the wine bottle emptied, somebody has to sort things out.  This means pull the creatures apart, separate the meat, which you package it in a ziplock or two.  Put the bones into a large pot, cover with water, bring to boil, and then simmer for a couple of hours.  You can put the skin in, too, and you will have a  smokey broth good for making any soup you'd make with a ham bone, only different.

I get it that some of you won't bother with the broth, and that's okay . . . it's an acquired taste.

But the meat!  Smoked chicken salads, sandwiches with lettuce and mayo and the beautiful tomatoes available right now, tacos, whatever soup you make with unsmoked chicken.  I like to make lentil soup with a smoked leg tossed in:

Cut half an onion and 1-2 sticks of celery into bite-sized pieces.  Saute in butter or oil until softened, then add a cup or so of lentils, cover with broth, add the smoked chicken, salt and pepper, and simmer for 30 minutes.  Depending on the age of your lentils, this may take longer.  In this case I prefer to use un-smoked chicken broth, or even Imagine's No-chicken broth, so the flavor of the lentils isn't overwhelmed.  Results may vary, (ha) so make adjustments as necessary.

David called this evening to ask for the recipe for Sandhurst Rolls.  There we have next week's blog, a trip to the distant past, life in Minnesota, iceskating in the back yard,  neighborhood pot-lucks? Stay tuned!

   

BLACK BUTTE IRON CHEF

     Larry and I followed Peter and Co. to Black Butte, settled in to watch the sun go down, took the photo of the lovely cows in the meadow . . . Oregon is so beautiful!
     Having expected Jenny and family instead of the two of us, the careful Allison and Angie left a refrigerator of food they couldn't carry back to California or throw away.  When the Ederers couldn't come, we saw our chance.
     But what to do with 2 gallons milk, eggs, turkey hot dogs, blueberries, cheese, eggs, 2 sticks cooked bacon, various fruits and veg, all good, if some slightly wilted?  What would the Iron Chef do?
     First, all that milk:  found 3 nice baking potatoes in a bowl, half an onion, some celery, half an ear of corn . . . I'm thinking clam chowder.  No clams, of course, but a box of no-chicken chicken broth in the pantry, flour and spices already on board.  Easy to pick up the clams and broth at Rays on the trip to Sisters.
     I've been making the soup according to an idea I got from my cousin Mary Chandler one day rather long ago, which is to add a whiff of curry powder to any fish soup.  Credit where it's due, here's my formula.  (I used the already cooked bacon, but for your purposes, the recipe uses uncooked)

CLAM CHOWDER

2 slices bacon, chopped
Up to 1/2 white or yellow onion, chopped
Two sticks of celery, chopped
2 TBS butter
1 TBS flour
1 baking, or 2 Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled, 1/2 inch cubes
1 bunch green onions, sliced
2 cups milk
1 cup broth, chicken or vegetable
1/2 bottle clam juice, or to taste
1 can chopped clams
dash curry powder
1/2 tsp thyme
1/4 cup white wine
lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.

In saucepan large enough to accommodate entire recipe, fry bacon, remove to paper towel.  In same pan, saute green onion, remove to towel.  Add butter to pan, saute white or yellow onion and celery.  Add flour and cook a moment.

Meanwhile, in separate pan, cook potatoes in water to just cover, approx 10 minutes til done.

To onion, celery, flour mix, slowly add potatoes and hot water, stirring.  Add milk, broth, clam juice, wine and seasonings.  Don't add actual clams until the last minute!  Allow soup to simmer 15 minutes, taste, adjust seasoning.  Just before serving, add the clams, reserved bacon and green onions.  If you're feeling decadent and have some cream around, it wouldn't hurt to add 1/4 cup or so.

You'll note that the recipe doesn't mentioned a left-over ear of corn, but if you have it, use it.  As this is an off-the-cuff recipe, you can do whatever you like.


Next up, baked custard.  Uses 2 cups of milk and some eggs.  You can find a recipe anywhere.


So now, the cheese:  this is a formula I took from a package of pimiento cheese while visiting David and Caroline in North Dakota.  Over the years, the recipe changes according to what I might have on hand, but this is today's iteration:

PIMIENTO CHEESE, SORT OF:

6-8 oz. cheddar cheese, cubed
4 oz cream cheese
2 TBS mayonaise
juice of 1/2 lemon
6 chopped peppadew peppers, in brine
dash cayenne pepper

Grate the cheddar cheese in processor, then add cream cheese and mayo, process to blend.  Add lemon juice, peppers, cayenne to taste, process to the consistency of your liking.  Great on crackers, or even to stuff celery sticks with.

Didn't have pimiento, but there was that jar of peppadews in the refrig . . . why not?  If you use pimiento, you might want to add a little pickled jalapeno, or a bit more cayenne for the nice heat.

I'll get back to you if I figure out what to do with turkey hot dogs!

PICKLE SEASON

My sister Mary likes to embarrass me by telling the following story about my early fondness for pickles.  Unfortunately, it's true.  As a child of seven or eight years, I liked to take a pickle from the refrig, wrap it in a napkin and stash it in my bathrobe pocket.  Then, after official lights-out, I'd make a tent of my bedding and with a flashlight, read into the night.  Should I become hungry, I was well provisioned with my favorite snack.

Sneaky child!  Of course I grew up and no longer need to read
under the bed-clothes, but I still love pickles.

Friend Julie Ball and I spent a few years canning and pickling, but I could never find quite the right recipe for dills.  The one day during lunch at Jo Bar, there they were, the perfect pickles.  I asked for a portion to take home, and amused, they obliged.  Several years followed of buying every commercial pickle I could find, without success.  At least I had identified the missing ingredient:  hot peppers.  Yes!

With the help of Putting Food By, my second-oldest cookbook (after BH&G), I began the do-it-yourself project.  Later I was joined in my mission by foodie-friend Vik (on the right in the above photo -- I'm holding a scepter of dill weed, if you're curious), the self-annointed Pearl-District Pickle-Queens.

It seems that putting food by has become hip, here in our foodie-city, among the Keep-Portland-Weird, chickens in the back yard crowd, "ink" a nice touch but not mandatory.  So jump in, you're in good company.  You'll need some basic equipment, but it's all multi-purpose, and inexpensive.

A canning kettle, which you will find at a cash-and-carry type store, or on Amazon -- get one with the rack.  Jars and lids with rings at the grocery store.  A tong-like device to extract the jars from the hot water is nice, but you can manage without.

As for the cucumbers, you have to use Kirby pickling cukes, at least for the following recipe.  I like to shop at the farmers' market and select small cucumbers no more than 4 inches long, but sometimes you'll find them in 10 pound bags and you'll have to deal with the varied sizes.

You have to start the brining the night before making the pickles.

This is a project best accomplished with a friend, as there will be periods of waiting in which you can catch up on the latest news around the neighborhood.  Besides, 10 pounds of cucumbers, if you have to buy that many, will yield about 15 pint jars of pickles, probably more than one family will want in a year.

Still with me?  Here are Dill Cucumber Pickles (Short Brine)

10 pounds Kirby cukes ( 3 - 5 inches)
1 gallon of 5 percent brine (3/4 cup Morton's Kosher salt to each gallon of water)
3 cups cider vinegar
3/8 cup salt
1/8 cup sugar
4 1/2 cups water
whole mixed pickling spice
whole yellow mustard seed
fresh dill weed OR dill seed
whole dried hot red peppers

Note:  You can halve the recipe.
Note:  all salt is not equally salty, so for the sake of this recipe, be sure to use Morton's.

Put washed and brush-scrubbed cukes in a noncorroding crock, kettle, or the kitchen sink, and cover with the 5 percent brine.  Let stand overnight.

Drain and pack the cucumbers in clean pint jars.  Add 1 teaspoon mustard seed, 1 teaspoon pickling spice, either 1 1/2 teaspoon dill seed OR 1 head of dill weed, 1 hot pepper to each pint jar.

Fill caning kettle half-way with water, and start bringing it to the boil.  You may need to add hot water to cover the jars when you begin to process them.  Start timing after the water in the kettle returns to the boil.

Combine vinegar, salt, sugar and water in a saucepan, bring to boil.  Ladle hot liquid over cucumbers in jars, leaving 1/2 inch headroom.  Adjust the lids and rings (tighten the rings firmly before placing the jars in the boiling water in the kettle) and process for 20 minutes, (lid on kettle)

Remove jars from boiling water carefully, place on towel on counter and allow to cool before putting away in the cupboard.

Now you have to wait for 6 weeks before you sample the pickles . . . don't cheat!

Bonus:  one way I love these pickles is an idea learned at Brothers Deli in Ashland:  Top a toasted pumpernickel bagel half with plain cream cheese and thin slices of pickle.  Really!

Introduction

     At the inspiration of, and encouragement from Allison, I've launched a new website. The idea is to distill the years of recipes I've found, tried, modified from the stacks of cooking magazines, newspaper clippings, file cards, cook books -- actually a kind of on-going kitchen history.

     First recipe:  (With a little background)
     Two years ago, Larry, Peter, Andrew, Jenny and I flew to Hamburg for friend Ursel Scheffler's birthday. During the party, held on a old sailing ship in the city's harbor, a gorgeous young woman approached, flung her arms around me in a warm hug.  But
who . . . ? Took me a minute to recognize Sibylle, Ursel's daughter, always a beautiful girl, but now, well, skinny as we'd all like to be.  How'd she do it?!
     Fast forward.  The secret revealed this summer in Italy by her big brother:  she eats no carbs after 12:00 mid-day.  That's it?  Hmm.  Easier, of course, for those Germans who typically eat the main meal in the middle of the day and dine on cheese and bread for supper.
     Then came Gary Taubes with his Bad Calories, Good Calories, singing the same song.  And a personal best on the bathroom scale.  Yikes!  Better try something!
     With that in mind, this from Jamie Oliver, in his book jamie's kitchen.  With tweaks, observations from my experience with it.  It's not exactly no-carb, but if you fix it for lunch on the weekend, it's fair.  Also good for a nice light dinner.  And it's really easy:

FRESH ASIAN NOODLE SALAD
Serves 4

10 1/2 oz cellophane noodles or bean thread noodles
7 oz ground beef
2 tsp. five-spice powder
5 TBS. olive oil
2 cloves garlic, peeled and grated (grated? really?)
2 heaping tsp. grated fresh ginger
5 1/2 oz salad shrimp
3 tsp sugar
1 bunch scallions, finely sliced
3 TBS fresh lime juice
1 TBS fish sauce
2 fresh red chiles, seeded and finely sliced
1 handful fresh cilantro, chopped
1 handful fresh mint, chopped
2 handfuls roasted peanuts
sea salt and black pepper

Some notes before we go on here:  first, I'll always give you the recipe as printed by the author, if there is one, and then my amendments.
For example, you all know I'd never add that cilantro, but you should go for it.
What I learned from this recipe, specifically is that you should watch the five-spice powder.  I used Penzeys and the cinnamon flavor took over the whole recipe.  First mistake!  Some would be good, but use sparingly.  Or try another brand.
Second mistake was the mint, which made things worse.  NO one the mint
If you also don't like cilantro, substitute basil.  Yum.    I deleted the sugar and didn't miss it.  I don't know how to grate garlic, so just pushed it through the press.  And it doesn't really need the shrimp.  All that being said, here goes:

Soak the noodles in a bowl of hot water until soft, then drain and put into your salad bowl.  Fry the beef and five-spice powder in olive oil until brown and crisp.  (Way too much oil, my opinion, but if you use it, drain before adding the next stuff)  Add garlic, ginger, shrimp and sugar and stir-fry for another 4 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir into the noodles.  Add the scallions, lime juice, fish sauce, chiles, cilantro, mint and peanuts into the bowl.  Toss well and correct the seasoning.  Serve cold (nope, room temperature) (I added more lime juice, and as my chile wasn't very hot, a few drops of hot chile oil -- or cayenne would work, too.)

That's it.  For dinner later, first an icy glass of gin, or wine of course, then a plate of sliced heirloom tomatoes a al Caprese with mozzarella and basil.  I have to acknowledge that my bathroom scale registered no improvement the next morning.  Maybe there's more to Sibylle's method?