Magic Vinegar Chicken

April 8, 2016
Vinegar Chicken

Vinegar Chicken

Eons ago I learned to make Vinegar Chicken. When I feel the yen for fried chicken, this is my go-to response. My method is so simple that it could be called “cooking without a recipe.” The dish finds a place in most French cookbooks, and it seems an odd combination. When we stop and think, however, we realize that the acid in the wine vinegar boils away after its tenderizing touch to the protein, and the essence of wine is left to make a lovely glaze. I didn’t think it could work, but it’s magical.

Almost everyone enjoys fried chicken, yet we know we shouldn’t overindulge in fat. Here’s a quick week-night chicken sauté doused with a splash of basic wine vinegar that lifts a simple bird to irresistible flavor. The Vinegar Chicken (sounds much better as Poulet au Vinaigre) combines the golden skin of carefully turned pan-fried poultry plus a rich, amber glaze with minimal fat. Remember that chicken cooked ON the bone has lots more calcium as well as more nutrition and taste all around. The Whole Food concept of eating doesn’t mean boneless, skinless. Likewise many French cookbook recipes call for larger quantities of vinegar, unnecessary in the US where vinegar has a higher acidic content. This smaller dose late in the cooking gives a savory yum—the umami of perfect deliciousness.

Wanting fried chicken without the FRY, then simply sauté and seal in the lip smacking flavor with vinegar.

Vinegar Chicken, Poulet au Vinaigre

3-3½ lb. frying chicken cut up or 2-2½ lbs. bone in, skin on chicken thighs

salt and freshly ground pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil

10-12 cloves garlic (papery skin on)

3-4 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar

½ teaspoon flour

1 teaspoon tomato paste

¾ cup chicken stock or water

1 tablespoon butter (optional)

Dry chicken pieces with paper towel; sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Heat oil in heavy skillet (cast iron if possible) and sauté chicken over moderate heat until golden. Strew in garlic cloves after chicken has cooked 5 minutes. (Cover pan with spatter screen to contain grease.) Turn the chicken several times as it cooks, making sure it is nicely browned on all sides and done, 20-30 minutes depending on size of pieces.

Measure vinegar into small cup near stovetop. Pour or spoon off excess fat. Reduce heat;  quickly sprinkle over vinegar and immediately cover with lid. Simmer 5 minutes. Remove chicken to a warm platter, stir flour and tomato paste into dripping. Add stock or water and boil up to a rich sauce. Swirl in butter if desired. Pour sauce over chicken. Squeeze softened garlic from paper skins to enjoy along with the chicken. Serves 4.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon






Lemon Meringue Pie

March 16, 2016
lemon meringue pie

lemon meringue pie

When I tasted a skinny slice of Rachel’s lemon meringue pie from the Ballymaloe Cookery School’s demo board last month, I knew I’d found the perfect dessert for Easter dinner. We have such an early Easter this year that there are no local blossoms and scarcely bits of fresh green outside. Pencil daffodils wait in the supermarkets along with boxed California berries, huge, hard, and sour. But we do still have lovely citrus with abundant lemons. Actually what could be better than a puckery tart lemon pie with a billow of marshmallow meringue in the wake of a rosemary-studded roast leg of lamb?

Here’s the lemon pie of your dreams. Too often our American lemon pies with cornstarch-thickened fillings are too sweet, and the meringue goes all sticky or weepy with the slightest wait for dessert. In this Irish version we have a flaky short crust pastry shallow filled with tart thick lemon curd—no cornstarch, minimal sugar. A cloud of thick meringue caps the pie and slowly bakes to crisp ivory dome with a soft interior. One bite of this pie gives you the balance of sweet and tart that is just right, as you wonder why so many lemon meringue pies have missed this beat.

An important part of the preparation is to have both the baked pastry shell and the lemon filling cool before the meringue goes on. The long, slow final baking allows the meringue to crust and to cook through so it holds well. If there’s a slight sugar weep after the first slice, just spoon the bit of syrup out of the pie dish to keep the crust crisp. This is an easy dessert to manage on a busy day. The filling can be made two days in advance, the shell baked the day before. Only the quickly whipped meringue goes on the day of your dinner. The pie needs to cool at least an hour before serving and can easily wait 2-4 hours at room temperature. Happy Easter, Happy Spring.

 Lemon Meringue Pie


4 oz. all purpose flour (1 cup minus 3 tablespoons)

scant ¼ teaspoon salt

2½ oz. butter (5 tablespoons)

1 egg yolk (save egg white for meringue)

1-2 tablespoons cold water

Place flour and salt in food processor bowl; slice over butter and blitz to a coarse meal. (Or rub butter into flour with fingertips.) Dump contents of processor onto clean counter top. Make well in the center of the mound; add yolk plus 1 tablespoon water. Mix yolk and water with fork and pull in the flour mixture gradually to make firm dough. Add extra spoon of water if needed. Shape dough into a 3-inch patty; wrap in plastic and chill overnight or an hour.

Remove dough from fridge, unwrap and tap with rolling pin to soften. Roll gently to a 12-inch circle; fold in quarters and fit snugly into an 8½-9-inch pie plate. Trim ragged edge and crimp border. Chill shell overnight or at least half an hour.

Preheat oven to 350°. Line chilled shell with sheet of foil, pressing foil gently onto pastry. Half fill foil with baking beans or pie weights and bake blind for 25 minutes. (Google “baking blind” if this is confusing.) When pastry loses the raw look, remove beans with foil. Brush interior of shell with 1 teaspoon whisked egg white and return pastry shell to oven for 5 minutes. Bake until lightly golden. Cool to room temperature. May prepare pastry shell a day ahead.

baked pastry shell

baked pastry shell

Lemon Curd

3½ oz. sugar (½ cup)

Grated yellow zest of 2 lemons

½ cup fresh lemon juice

2 oz. unsalted butter (½ stick)

1 large egg plus 3 egg yolks (save whites for meringue)

Rub lemon zest into sugar. Melt butter in small heavy saucepan (enameled cast iron recommended); add half sugar and lemon juice. Whisk egg and yolks in bowl adding remaining sugar.

Pour half hot lemon juice/butter mixture over the eggs whisking well and pour contents of bowl back into saucepan with hot lemon butter. Stir constantly with wooden spoon over low heat cooking the lemon curd until thick (5-6 minutes). Lemon curd must not boil as it cooks. It will thicken suddenly. Continue to cook a bit longer until it mounds softly in a spoon or reveals the bottom of the pan when wooden spoon is drawn down the middle. Scrape curd into a small bowl or a glass jar, cover with plastic wrap to prevent a skin forming over surface (tip up one edge of the wrap to allow steam to escape). Cool to room temp. and refrigerate.


4 egg whites (reserved from pastry and curd), generous half cup

8 oz. sugar (1 cup plus 2 tablespoons)

Preheat oven to 250°.

Egg whites whip best at room temperature. If whites are cool, pour into mixing bowl, immerse bowl in a larger bowl of hand hot water. Stir whites until tepid.

Place mixing bowl in stand mixer with whisk attachment. Beat whites until frothy and add sugar quickly, 1 tablespoon at a time.

Beat on high speed 6-7 minutes or until meringue holds stiff peaks and all sugar is dissolved. (Rub a little meringue between your fingers to check.)

While meringue whips, spread chilled lemon curd evenly in baked pastry shell. Dollop stiff meringue over lemon curd and use back of a spoon to seal meringue to edges of pie shell. Use spoon to sweep meringue into a decorative topping peaking in the center. Bake meringue topped pie in the center of a 250° oven for 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes. Cool at least an hour before serving. For ease of slicing, gently cut through the meringue first with a serrated knife before using a thin sharp knife. Enough for 8.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon

Seedy Brown Soda Bread

February 24, 2016
Seedy Brown Soda Bread

Seedy Brown Soda Bread

Every time I go to Ireland, all I want to eat is bread and butter. The great tradition of whole grain soft soda bread with sweet, rich butter makes a perfect meal. The world of soda-risen breads is a realm unto itself that thrives only where the conditions are right. The essential ingredient is whole grain soft wheat flour. It’s not cold enough in Ireland to grow the hard wheat famous in northern Europe, the US and Canada. We produce the high protein flour needed for crusty baguettes, fluffy buns and crisp pizzas. Softer wheat flours are perfect for cakes, muffins and biscuits. The Irish take this soft wheat and coarsely mill the whole grain into a flake-filled brown flour unlike anything we can find here. Only this flour makes a proper brown soda loaf. As St. Paddy’s Day approaches, our supermarkets and bakeries will offer raisin-studded sweet round cakes called “soda bread,” but believe me, these are shameful representations of what’s commonly found on Irish tables.

Ireland is still dairy country. In the 19th century the Cork Butter Market was the world’s largest and shipped Irish butter as far as New Zealand. Even today Kerrygold is marketed internationally as a premium European style butter. European butter has a higher fat content than US butter, making it prized for both spreading and cooking.

Whenever I come home, I wish I’d had room to pack a couple of bags of Odlums wholemeal flour, but I know I can find the good Irish butter in most supermarkets. I often try to replicate a soda bread with the supermarket King Arthur flours in my pantry. It’s never quite perfect, but often it’s very good indeed. Here’s a perfect loaf for the yeast-timid baker.

Soda bread begins with a soft dough stirred together by hand or with a rubber spatula, scooped immediately into a prepared bread tin, baked in a hot oven and ready from start to finish within an hour. Only a small amount of sweetening, if any, should be considered. A good measure of seeds or chopped nuts adds crunch and nutrition to an already wholesome loaf. This seedy soda bread makes excellent toast or a base for open sandwiches and keeps well for several days.

Seedy Soda Bread

10 oz. whole wheat flour (2 spooned in/leveled cups)
2½ oz. all purpose flour (½ scooped/leveled cup)
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
2 tablespoons wheat germ or bran
12-14 fl. oz. buttermilk or thin yogurt*
1 tablespoon dark molasses or 1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon oil or melted butter
2 oz. mixed seeds such as pumpkin, sunflower, sesame, or chopped nuts (½ cup)

*To make thin yogurt, mix 7 fl. oz. each whole milk plain yogurt and milk. Cover and leave overnight at room temperature to lightly culture the milk.

Preheat oven to 400°. Butter a 8½ by 4½ by 3 inch loaf tin. In a deep measuring cup stir together 12 fl. oz. (1½ cups) buttermilk or thin yogurt, molasses and oil. Hold remaining buttermilk nearby. Sift the flours, salt and soda into a medium bowl. Stir in the wheat germ and seeds. Make a well in the center of the flour; add the buttermilk mixture all at one go. Stir together quickly with a rubber spatula, adding the additional buttermilk if needed to make a soft, wet, muffin-like batter. Scoop the dough into the prepared pan. Dip your hand in water and use it to evenly pat the surface. Cut through the center of the dough lengthwise with a damp knife; sprinkle the top with a few more seeds. Bake in the center of the preheated oven for 35 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the loaf in for an additional 10 minutes to deepen the brown crust. Cool before slicing.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon

Church Brunch

January 25, 2016
Strata baking

Strata baking

At an annual church business meeting one way to get an extra hour from parishioners is to bribe them with a free lunch. Given the noonish time of day, we do brunch. We try for a one-size-suits-all sort of dish that isn’t too costly, can be made ahead and will be easy to serve. This year we opted for the old standby Strata updated into a savory bread pudding.

Here we have bread, sausages, cheese, vegetables well seasoned, layered in buttered Pyrex bakers and moistened with creamyegg-and-milk custard. Wrapped and stowed in the big fridge, Strata for 70 waits for its morning call. With a couple of people minding ovens during the service, the baking Strata fills the church with a inviting aroma. Accompanied by mini-muffins, fresh fruit and salad greens, the Strata will be a tasty reward.

Strata plated

Strata plated

Popularized by the Silver Palate cookbooks in the 1970s, Strata gets its name from ingredients layered into a baking dish. No doubt the idea grew from older American recipes such as “Luncheon Cheese Dish” or “Cheese Sandwich Casserole” of the 50s that I remember served to a party of fourth grade girls.

As always the success of a casserole depends on the quality of its contents. The number- one player here is bread. Be sure to use a sugar-free French loaf or an artisan sourdough. Avoid processed cheeses. I recommend a mixture of Swiss and white Cheddar, but any mixture of good grating and melting cheeses will be fine. Sausages, from bland to spicy, may be combined with diced smoked ham or turkey. For a vegetarian version, omit the meat products and add extra vegetables. Mushrooms, spinach (frozen is OK here), onions, roasted red peppers, chopped sun dried tomatoes, even cooked kale will be welcome in a Strata. One solution to the morning cooking scramble: layer in the Strata a day beforehand and produce a dazzling dish from a clean kitchen the next a.m.

Brunch Strata

12 oz. good French, Italian or sourdough bread

1 jumbo onion (12 oz.) peeled and cut in small dice

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon butter

1 10 oz. box frozen, chopped spinach, defrosted, drained

8 oz. fresh mushrooms sliced and sautéed in butter

12-16 oz. sausage, cooked and diced or crumbled

Good handful fresh parsley, chopped

Fresh or dried thyme

12 oz. (3 cups) grated cheese (Swiss and white cheddar recommended)

6 eggs

2 cups (16 fl. oz.) whole milk

1 cup (8 fl. oz.) heavy cream

Salt, pepper, freshly grated nutmeg, pinch cayenne

Cut the bread into large dice. Include crusts unless scorched. Measures about 9 cups.

Melt butter in small heavy, sauté pan and sweat onion over low heat. Add chopped garlic to the top of the onion and cover with butter wrappers or a parchment circle. The onion and garlic should not brown but will lightly color, melt into softness and reduce by half. Allow 20-30 minutes to cook the onion.

Combine the cooked onion, garlic, drained and squeezed spinach, sautéed mushrooms, cooked sausage, parsley and thyme. Season the mixture with salt and pepper. The vegetable/sausage mixture should weigh around 2 ½ lbs.

Beat the eggs in a large bowl; add cream, milk and season well with salt, pepper, freshly grated nutmeg and a pinch of cayenne.

Generously butter a 3 1/2-quart shallow casserole or baking dish.

Add diced bread to the egg and milk mixture. Lift half of the moistened bread with a slotted spoon and spread it over the bottom of the baking dish. Distribute 2/3 of the vegetable mix over the bread and top with 2/3 of the grated cheese. Add the second half of the moistened bread over the vegetables and sausage. Pat everything firmly in place with your clean hands. Pour the remaining milk and egg mixture evenly over the casserole and sprinkle over the remaining cheese. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Remove from fridge an hour before cooking if possible. Bake Strata in a 375° oven for 45-60 minutes or until puffed and golden. Allow to rest at room temperature 15 minutes before cutting. Serves 8-10.

To increase the Strata recipe for 15-18, using a 5 L baking dish, extend the basic recipe by 1/3. For example: 12 oz. bread should become 16 oz. bread, etc.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon


Christmas Spritz

December 3, 2015
Spritz on baking sheet

Spritz on baking sheet

There’s still time to open your home bakeshop. These early weeks of December mark the best time for Christmas butter cookies. Always better after a week or two in the tin and stored in a cool place, the flavors meld magically.

Every culture seems to have a favorite cookie for the winter holiday season, and most are rich with butter, nuts, or chocolate. Cookie dough is usually a simple mix and offers a family project, if the kids don’t eat too much raw dough and end up with tummy aches. It’s great to share homemade cookies with guests or to savor with afternoon coffee. Here’s one of those perfect little cakes: crisp, fragrant, not too sweet—a good keeper.

Spritz baked

Spritz baked

Spritz is a traditional Scandinavian favorite. Its name comes from its being squirted out. Often made with a cookie press, these butter biscuits appear in various designs. After years of struggling with cookie presses, I say ditch the press and go back to the professional baker’s choice: the pastry bag. With the pastry bag, you have more control, speed, and far less clean up. Nowadays large plastic piping bags are a godsend. The older cloth bags pulled butter from the dough, but the plastic bag keeps the dough moist, is easy to rinse in hot water, and dries quickly. Choose a basic large metal fluted or star tip and take care when you begin not to overfill the bag. A single tip may not give you a variety of shapes, but when this Spritz is among many on your cookie trays, its classic shape is perfect. Everyone will want some.


8 oz. unsalted butter (2 sticks) at room temperature

¼ teaspoon salt

3½ oz. granulated sugar (½ cup)

1 large egg

2 tablespoons milk

½ teaspoon vanilla

¼ teaspoon almond extract

8 oz. all purpose flour (1¾ cups)

1 oz. cornstarch (¼ cup)

Weigh ingredients on an accurate kitchen scale for the best results.

Before mixing cookie dough have four sheet pans ready. Pans do not have to be lined or greased since pressed cookie dough sticks best to a clean, dry baking sheet.

Cream the butter with salt and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. These cookies may also be mixed by hand with a strong arm and a heavy bowl. When the butter is soft and fluffy, add egg, milk, and flavorings. Beat well. Remove bowl from mixer and sift over flour and cornstarch. Blend flour mixture in your hand using a rubber spatula. The dough should now be soft enough to pipe. If it seems too stiff, add another tablespoon of milk. Put one third of the dough into the plastic bag with a fluted tip, squeeze it all toward the tip, twist the bag above the dough (see photo), and aim the tip straight down on the baking sheet. Twist the bag slightly until a cookie oozes out. Lift the bag straight up and proceed. Pipe approximately 25 cookies onto a sheet. Sprinkle each cookie with a pinch of granulated sugar.

The cookies may be baked immediately, but for a better texture allow the pressed shapes to stand on the sheets an hour or two in a cool place before baking. (This step relaxes the flour, allows absorption of liquid, and makes a tender cookie.) Bake cookies in a preheated 350° oven for 10-12 minutes or until lightly golden. Cool cookies thoroughly before storing in a wax paper–lined airtight tin or plastic box. Store at least a week in a cool place before serving. Makes about 100, or 6-8 dozen, depending on size.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon




Wild Rice Stuffing

November 11, 2015
Wild Rice Stuffing

Wild Rice Stuffing

Wild rice is precious, even ceremonial, in some Native American cultures. It’s not a grain and not really rice. It’s the seed from a grass growing in or near the edge of a lake or stream. Mature wild rice is gently knocked from the mother plants, rather than the entire plant being cut and threshed as is wheat, or white rice. Wild rice is farmed in California and still traditionally harvested wild in Canada and the northern Great Lakes region. Good wild rice is expensive, not something for every day, but perfect for Thanksgiving. When we consider foods to include in our all-American feast, we look to our original, seasonal produce; wild rice belongs right up there with pumpkin and cranberries.

Wild rice should have firm, even grains and should not smell dusty. It should be shiny and dark. It takes a long time to cook and needs care. I can’t remember when I first started using wild rice with my Thanksgiving turkey, but I do recall the woman who taught me to wash, soak and slowly cook the grain until it swelled, split, and curled, completely tender. She was eating a bowl of warm wild rice with sugar and milk for breakfast.

Whether you call it dressing and cook it in a casserole alongside your turkey or use the wild rice mixture to stuff your turkey, it may turn out to be the tastiest part of your dinner. I think stuffing is the way to go since turkey juices enhance the rice, but a buttered and covered casserole of it will give a great side. It’s whole grain, Midwestern, and native to the America we celebrate on Thanksgiving.

Wild Rice Stuffing

1 cup wild rice

½ pound Italian sausage and/or ½ pound mushrooms sautéed in 1 tablespoon butter

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

2 cups chopped onion

2 cups thinly sliced celery

3-4 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon chopped green chili or pinch crushed red chili

2 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs (parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme) or 1 teaspoon dry salt and freshly ground pepper

The night before, rinse and soak wild rice covered in cool water. The next morning, drain and simmer rice in 4 cups fresh water for 30-45 minutes or until the rice is split open, curled and tender. Drain rice in sieve, shake away excess water, return to saucepan, and sprinkle with salt.

Meanwhile, sauté sausage, breaking it apart into crumbles; remove from frying pan. Slice and sauté mushrooms. Set aside. In the same frying pan heat the oil and sweat the chopped onion and sliced celery (cover with butter wrappers). When the onion is tender, add garlic, chili, herbs, and cook until fragrant. Combine the aromatic vegetables with the drained rice and/or sausage/mushrooms. Combine and taste for seasonings, adding more salt and pepper as needed.

Cool the mixture thoroughly if using to stuff your turkey, or scoop into a buttered casserole dish with a tight fitting cover. Bake in a moderate oven for an hour or inside the turkey for the duration of the roast. Makes 6 cups; serves 8—best leftovers!

In my photo caramelized butternut squash wedges surround the stuffing in a primitive wooden bowl with a colonial “coin spoon.”

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon


Homemade Sauerkraut

October 24, 2015

sauerkraut in proacessIMG_0967Before you moan about those winter winds beginning to blow, be sure you’ve shored up your pantry with a bucket of sauerkraut. Through October Farmer’s markets are rolling in cabbage. Giant heads straight from the fields sell for under $2. How can you pass them up? Cabbage is one of our best vegetables, underused and unappreciated. I find it’s a standby year around: shredded in salads, diced into soups, wilted with butter, or fermented into sauerkraut. Is there anything better on a frosty winter night that a choucroute garni? See

We are learning more and more about the benefits of fermented foods, the importance of probiotics in our diet. The lactic acid in fermented food strengthens the immune system and aids digestion. We know we eat better when we stick to seasonal produce and buy what comes from nearby. Supermarket strawberries and tomatoes don’t belong to our winter tables. Apples and pears are at their best, broccoli, kale and Brussels sprouts are at peaks, and the forlorn cabbage, inexpensive and nourishing, is there for the taking.

I wish I had one of my grandmother’s gray stoneware crocks, and I hope whoever has them keeps them in use. In fact I have no crock, but I still ferment kraut every fall in a gallon Cambro plastic container. Enough kraut for 4-5 meals takes around half an hour to prepare and costs under $2. A Best Buy if ever there was one!

Don’t be afraid to try it. People have been souring cabbage for thousands of years. It’s a natural process and just takes some time. The only things to be diligent about are: first, to make sure your fermenting container is scrupulously clean, and, second, that you let your kraut cure slowly in a place that isn’t too warm. A cool garage or basement is just right. The good bacteria that turn cabbage into kraut are living organisms (like yeast) so they don’t flourish if they get either too hot or too cold. Take that cabbage, shred it, salt it, mix it, pack it down, weight it, cover it, and leave it alone while nature’s little helpers create your winter treat.


4-5 lbs. fresh cabbage

9-10 teaspoons kosher salt

Wash and scald a gallon container, a crock, a narrow plastic canister or a heavy glass jar. Drain to air-dry.

Remove few tough outer leaves from cabbage and clean head thoroughly. (Save those tough leaves to chop for soup or a braise. Discard coarse leaf ribs.)

Using a large chef’s knife, cut the cabbage into quarters. Slice the core from each quarter. Shred the cabbage into the largest bowl you have. Use a sharp knife, a mandolin or a cabbage cutter for the shredding. Sprinkle over the salt and using your ultraclean hands, mix and knead the salt into the cabbage. Once the juice begins to exude, pack the salted cabbage by handfuls into the clean crock or other container. Using your fists press the cabbage down until a layer of water floats on the top.

Cover the wet cabbage with a square of clean plastic wrap making sure the wrap comes to the edges of the container sides. Place a saucer that will just fit into the cylindrical opening on top of the wrap. Add a heavy weight to the saucer to keep the cabbage juiced. For a weight you could us a quart jar filled with water, a clean rock, a stone mortar, or a couple large cans of tomatoes.

Store the kraut in process in a cool place, darkish if possible. Check from time to time to make sure there are no off-odors (though at a point in fermentation there will be a mustardy gas sort of smell, a bit like overcooked Brussels sprouts. That’s OK). Once the cabbage looks and tastes like sauerkraut, you may divide it into quart jars and store it in the fridge to use for the next several months.sauerkraut ready


Please don’t let the winter pass without a crock of kraut.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon




Shrimp with Tomatoes and Coconut Milk

September 11, 2015
Shrimp in Tomato and Coconut MIlk Sauce

Shrimp in Tomato and Coconut MIlk Sauce

Tomatoes with bacon, tomatoes with cream, tomatoes on toast or in salads supreme! At the height of our tomato harvest, with colored peppers blending in the mix, each evening’s supper features tomatoes. When “shrimp” was whispered in my ear one night, I set about answering the request the next day. Sweet gulf shrimp with tomatoes and coconut milk makes magic flavor found in tropical cuisines from Brazil to India. The stew may be sparked with spices or kept simple without. Either way it’s a food pairing not to be missed.

The rich creaminess of coconut milk tempers any tartness in the tomatoes, enriches the juice and bathes the shrimp in a sumptuous sauce. Fresh tomatoes melt into the stew in a way that canned tomatoes treated with citric acid can’t approach. Adding ginger, chili, and turmeric gives the dish an East Indian flair. Leaving those ingredients out gives a comfort level even a two-year-old will enjoy.

These days it’s important to check the source of your shrimp. I highly recommend American gulf shrimp if they are available. We’ve all been reminded of the often unsanitary conditions of Thai shrimp farms. For the sweetest, tenderest morsels, know the origin of your shrimp, and buy shell on shrimp. To ease your dinner preparation, simmer the sauce base ahead or even the day before. For a quick meal, steam some rice, blanch a green vegetable, simmer the shrimp in the sauce, and toss a salad.

Shrimp with Coconut Milk and Tomatoes

5 tablespoons olive, canola, or coconut oil

12 oz. onion (one large) peeled and thinly sliced

1 medium sweet red pepper seeded and diced

3-4 tablespoons grated fresh ginger

5 cloves garlic, finely chopped

½ – 1 green or red chili finely chopped*

1 teaspoon turmeric powder

2 cups peeled, seeded, chopped fresh tomatoes**

1 cup canned coconut milk (unsweetened, not lite)

juice 1 lime

1-2 handfuls fresh mint or cilantro, chopped

salt, pepper, cayenne

1 lb. medium Gulf shrimp, preferably in the shell

*Use fresh chili at your own comfort level. I always taste-test my chili first since it will vary in its heat. Use the seeds for more chili kick, or remove the seeds for a milder flavor.

**Save seedy bit from tomato interior. Strain out seeds and use juice as needed.

In a heavy saucepan warm the oil and sweat the sliced onion, covered with butter wrappers, until wilted and translucent. Add sweet red pepper and continue to sauté until the onion just tinges with gold. Stir in the ginger, garlic and chili, cooking until the spices are fragrant. Stir in turmeric, tomatoes, and cover. Reduce heat and simmer until tomatoes are completely tender and broken apart. If needed add a little water or the strained tomato juice. Add coconut milk, season generously with salt and simmer to combine flavors.

While the sauce is cooking, peel the shrimp, season lightly with salt, and refrigerate until needed. Shortly before serving, add shrimp to the simmering sauce and cook only 3-5 minutes or just until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Add fresh cilantro or mint plus lime juice to taste, and serve with white rice or a simple pilaf. Enough for 4-5.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon




Corn Relish

September 1, 2015
Corn Relish

Corn Relish

Every Saturday since early July we’ve met Pablo next to the big galvanized horse trough heaped with ripe ears of sweet corn in our farmers’ market. $6 a dozen, then $5, and now $4. Each week we bring home another bag packed with the lush grain. I throw the outer husks on the compost pile, stash neat ears in the fridge. I for one am quickly corn-on-the-cobbed out, but happy to have the crisp kernels for pilafs, vegetable salads, succotash, soups, and polenta. Now that we’ve come through a two-month corn cycle, the colored peppers are reddening, and it’s time for corn relish.

Popular throughout the Midwest, the corn relish we know seems to have Germanic origins from Pennsylvania Dutch immigrant farmers. These frugal people—expert preservers, always finding ways to use every scrap of food—corn relish was an end-of-summer means to blend garden vegetables into a savory pickle to can for winter. In some old cookbooks the relish is called corn salad, found in the canning section. Here’s a sweet/tart condiment that could be served with roast chicken, sausages or a supper of leftovers—and stand in for fresh greens no longer a part of winter’s larder.

Once you’re corned out and ready to leave those golden cobs until next summer, try to gather a few more along with some red peppers, onions, cabbage or celery and simmer even a small pot of old-fashioned corn relish. It’s pretty, lively, tasty, and here given a zesty boost with some fresh ginger, garlic and chili. It’s a welcome end of summer treat before the frost is on the punkin.

Corn Relish

2 ½ cups kernels of cut fresh corn (2-4 ears) plus cob scrapings separate

1 tablespoon flour

¾ cup small dice red pepper

¾ cup small dice tender celery, or cabbage

¾ cup small dice onion

2 cloves garlic chopped

1-2 teaspoons chopped Serrano chili (optional)

2 tablespoons finely chopped julienne fresh ginger

1 cup distilled white or cider vinegar

½ cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon dry mustard

1 teaspoon celery seed or mustard seed

Combine corn kernels, pepper, celery, onion and set aside.

Sieve the corn scrapings and blend flour into the corn milk. Hold aside.

In a medium saucepan bring garlic, chili, ginger, vinegar, sugar, salt, turmeric, mustard and seeds to a boil. Add corn, pepper, onion and simmer 10 minutes; add corn milk + flour and simmer 5 minutes more until thickened. Cool uncovered. Keeps in glass jar for a month in fridge. Makes 3 generous cups.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon




Summer Squash Cakes

August 5, 2015

summer squashcakes photo-18Hiricas lived in a shabby wooden farmhouse on a couple of acres next to our place. All their linoleum-floored rooms were dark—a dim porch with a ceiling swing and stacks of rumpled Czech newspapers, a black heavy table and buffet in a dining room that was never used, and a low ceilinged grease-stained kitchen with a coal range and smells of old world garlic. For eight-year-old me, this was Gothic. I was drawn almost hypnotically to cross the east orchard and rap at their back screen door. I didn’t venture into the dirt cellar basement, but I’d climb the creaky stairs to the kitchen always hoping there’d be something good to eat—something I’d never find at home.

Now many decades later, there are only a few tastes I remember. In autumn there were sweet, doughnut-like fried rolls filled with the freshly ground poppy seeds harvested from the opium poppies grown alongside the gravel driveway. That creamy, soft, nut flavor can’t be duplicated from the usually stale poppy seeds sitting on grocery shelves. Those rolls and the walnut potica remain a memory.

But back to the subject: In the heavy afternoon heat of late summer, I might find a plate of fried summer squash left on the oilcloth-covered kitchen table. Mrs. Hirica, always eager to offer something to her curious neighbor, helped me buy my first cookbook about European food—a collection of Czech recipes.

Last Sunday I found an almost too large, lumpy skinned yellow summer squash in my garden. It was about seven inches long and too mature to grill or stir-fry. It was from my own carefully tended vine, too precious to toss on the compost heap. I remembered Hiricas’ decadent and delicious squash cakes. My mind whipped back to a memory of something I hadn’t put on a plate in almost forever. As a treat for a meatless Monday supper, my lumpy skinned squash became creamy-centered, crisp cakes served with a pool of basil scented yogurt sauce. Tucked next to a corn and kale pilaf alongside beans stewed with tomatoes and zucchini, a crookneck squash took me home again.

Summer Squash Cakes

1 yellow summer squash no more than 3 inches in diameter



1 egg

1 cup fine, dry bread crumbs

olive, canola or grape seed oil

Remove stem and blossom ends from squash. Cut into ½ inch slices. Sprinkle both sides of slices lightly with salt and allow to stand on a wire rack for 15-30 minutes. Blot away excess moisture with paper towel.

Prepare a plate of flour, a bowl of beaten egg and a plate of breadcrumbs. Dust each slice of squash with flour, dip in egg and then coat with breadcrumbs. Place the crumb covered slices back on the wire rack to dry a few minutes.

Heat a heavy cast iron skillet filmed with oil, and add the squash slices to the hot oil making sure they aren’t crowded. Keep the heat moderate. The squash will need to cook 10-15 minutes per side or until the coating is nicely browned and the center is tender (when pierced with a toothpick). Serve the squash cakes immediately, hold in a low oven or cool to room temperature and leave on the kitchen table for your little neighbor who might knock looking for a snack.

Mary Jo's Cookbook available on Amazon

Mary Jo’s Cookbook available on Amazon







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