Last night’s corn chowder was so delicious I thought I’d share. Short version? Make a chowder and add chimichurri.
Chowder consisted of:
One-half onion, diced 3 stalks of celery, cut in tiny half moons 3 ears of cooked corn, kernels stripped off the cob One-half green pepper, cut small Dash each of nutmeg and cayenne; S&P Two cloves of garlic
Sauté all of the above and then add a container of homemade chicken stock.
Cook at low boil ‘til potatoes are done and then add most of a pint of heavy cream. Warm up. Voila!
For the chimichurri (shown in mini-Cuisinart):
Parsley, basil, two cloves garlic, 1/2 shallot, splash of olive oil, smaller splash of vinegar, salt.
I also roasted six small sweet red peppers on my stovetop grill and added them. I wasn’t sure they’d work, but they did.
(P.S. I used my “panini bricks” to press the peppers down and make the sear better. Top photo: you can see the stovetop grill and the bricks).
The soup would’ve been bland and too creamy without the herb/pepper add-in so I really recommend it.
I’m still waking before six. I call it “jet bounce” instead of jet lag (of course I’m dead at 4:00 pm).
Peonies offer their gloryWhich do you prefer — pink or white?Looking up at Uffizi
Heard from South Carolina Historical Society: because I only quote from Eliza’s published letters, I don’t need their permission. I actually didn’t think I needed permission, but it’s good to be diligent.
Pink rhodie past its peak
I have PT this morning and will pick up a few groceries while I’m over there. I hope getting a few tasty ingredients will ease me out of this I can’t be bothered with dinner prep phase. I go through these now and again — often associated with extreme heat. This time, it’s also clear that I need to up my vegetarian game.
Anyone have a good recipe for lentil burgers? Other meatless entree favorites?
My ravioli cutters arrived! Now to find some fine flour.
Have a great day everyone!
PS sssssh. Don’t tell anyone. I’m on the back patio and (other than route 9 traffic) it’s actually quiet right now.
I might be weird for loving radishes as much as I do, but right now I’m obsessed with eating their crunchy goodness with just a splash of olive oil, a spritz of lemon juice, and salt and pepper.
I had an Italian/chef boyfriend once upon a time who would prep radishes the same way only simpler — with only olive oil and pepper — and I can tell you that they’re delicious that way too.
For some reason, the stripped down nature of this treat reminded me of a snack my Dad used to eat — a slice of white bread with mayonnaise and pepper. It was considered a real treat, especially if served with a small glass of buttermilk.
Gross, right? But then I remembered that as kids we’d enjoy cold hot dogs right out of the fridge (fully cooked, of course). Also gross.
My father was born at the beginning of the Depression. In 1929, in fact. I don’t know of anyone in my generation who would slug down buttermilk and go, “Ah.”
Here’s another memory — and I swear on my father’s grave that it’s true.
One year, I might have been six or seven, we were heading down the Taconic Parkway en route to visit family in Woodhaven, New York (which was either Brooklyn or Queens depending on the year of the map), when I began to smell something gross. I crinkled my nose. Was it coming from inside the car? Did anyone else smell it? No and no.
I tried to dismiss it. I’d learned early, I’m sad to say, not to trust myself — especially in the face of opposition. But as we crossed the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, the smell got stronger. I knew we were heading toward it, but still no one else could smell it. How baffling!
Finally, we arrived and spilled out of our Pontiac Tempest. Scrambled up the steps and into Nana’s narrow and dark brownstone. Whoa! Right there on the porch I was hit with the smell. It was moist and animal. Something cooking, then? I followed my father into the kitchen where he lifted the lid of a giant pot on the stove and inhaled with pleasure.
Pigs’ feet.
Pigs’ feet? A delicacy I guess.
I can’t remember if I sampled them or not. I can’t remember if I said a single thing about how off-putting I found the smell. Probably no to both. Given what a treat pigs’ feet were to my father’s family, I’m pretty sure no one would’ve minded me taking a pass.
Zucchini fritters are one of my new favorite dishes. They’ve entered the rotation. It’s basically a pancake made delicious with feta and tons of scallions and garlic (and shredded zucchini, of course). Here served with crème fraiche and a tangily-dressed Romaine salad.
Plus scallions!
Also from Ripe Figs, here’s a spicy cabbage dish with roasted hazel nuts that I tried out this week.
I don’t know if it’s the Irish blood, but I generally have cabbage in the fridge, so it’s nice to have some alternatives to coleslaw or simpler sautées.
Another thing I’m big on these days is making my own croutons. Iron skillets are perfect for this task. Usually I only add garlic, S&P, and thyme, but oh how tasty they are! And they keep of course.
In my effort to cut down on meat consumption, I find adding a handful of cashews to a salad to be an easy way to add protein and hearty flavor.
It’s been COLD here. Wear-tights-under-my-pants cold. Two scarves. Hood up.
Just the teens, so I’m not complaining. I know plenty of others are experiencing much colder temperatures and deadly windchill.
I’ll end by saying what a great investment my calf-length down parka was. Makes so many dog walks possible!
1/8 HAIKU A salt shard turns Finn into a tripod — hop! hop! — ‘til I can remove.
Three writing workshops start back up this week, two I run, one attend. The structure is good, the connections, friendships. The break was really nice too. It was one week longer than planned on account of losing the internet right before going to California.
I didn’t make soup yesterday but did today. The addition of fennel and a dollop of freshly-made pesto made this batch a little differentfrom my usual bean/tomato concoctions. Plenty by Ottolenghi the source.
His didn’t include sausage while mine used up some ancient andouille. Have no fear! I’ll survive. And if I don’t, Finn’s going down too!
Painting by Ginny Mallon (so love it!) and just received this week — two of her incredible cigar-box portraits. That’s Herman Melville on the left (with a whale inside) and Mark Helprin on the right (cats inside). I have read almost all of Helprin’s novels but never managed (shame on me!) to get through Moby Dick.
If you don’t already follow Ginny on Instagram, you should (@ virginiamallon).
