Of Bloody Oranges & Pithy Pomelos

Bloody Oranges.

It wasn't very long ago that I discovered that many varieties of citrus fruits actually grow best in the winter.  I found that shocking, having always associated orange juice and bright lemons and limes with the warmth of the summer and sunny Florida.  In a way this paradoxical reality - I do believe citrus actually does taste better when it's warm outside - is a little bit of a winter miracle.  You're holed up deep within the doldrums of a cold, snowy winter, thoughts of heavy gravies and roasts relentlessly dancing inside your head, when out of nowhere every beautiful variation of juicy citrus fruit suddenly appears in your local grocery store.  The idea of it used to bother me, really.  I couldn't figure out what could be wintery about citrus besides maybe throwing them into a giant vat of mulled wine, but that didn't seem to do them justice either.

At a certain point I finally found a recipe that tempted me into giving the abundance of winter citrus a place at home (outside of simply forcing myself to shiver while I ate cold grapefruit on a January morning): the Homesick Texan's "grapefruit brulee."   The idea of a semi-warm, slightly sweeter version of the morning grapefruit really, really appealed to me.

From there, I remembered a salad that had struck me back when I first tasted it - at my sister-in-law's rehearsal dinner in December of 2006 - but which I'd forgotten about since then: a simple grapefruit and fennel salad, which was served with a roast ham.  What a great combination.  And I'd never even noticed the "coldness" of the salad because I enjoyed it so much.

Then the other week I was at the gym reading the December 2012 issue of Sunset (a wonderful magazine that proclaims to expound upon "how to live in the west) when I came upon an article about winter and citrus fruits.  The editor pointed out, rather smartly, that these days we take citrus for granted as a readily available near-commodity.  We can get oranges, lemons, limes at any time of the year thanks to the wonders of mass-farming and global-transportation.  But, she proudly pondered, her father actually remembered (and told her about) a time when an orange in California was very much a Christmas miracle.
How amazing.

* * *

So lately I've been having a celebration of sorts myself - one that involves me buying large quantities of the many citrus fruits we have out there available to us in Colorado at this blustery time of year.  And I've settled on a favorite salad recipe for them, which I'll share.  But first, here are my favorite citrus fruits in list form:

Of Bloody Oranges & Pithy Pomelos

the many citruses I love

5. Pomelos:
Looks: I first had a pomelo on my honeymoon in Thailand.  I used to drop a couple of delicious segments into my ritual morning-pomelo-mimosa (I live a horrifically difficult life, don't I?).  These fruits are yellow on the outside but can also be green or a light orange.  They are a pain to peel and unwieldy in their immense size (the largest citrus, in fact).  If nothing else, they are impressive to look at next to the comparatively puny navel oranges and mandarins.

Likes: Despite the awkwardness of a Pomelo, there is something infinitely satisfying about the enlarged segments, made up of also rather enlarged fruit juice sacs (called vesicles, apparently).  They're like a milder, sweeter grapefruit - on steroids.  The grandfather of grapefruits, actually.  The other day Roman and I devoured one in its magnificent unadulterated form in under five minutes. Good thing it only took half an hour to peel.

4. Blood Oranges
Looks: I should have known my mummy-and-skeleton-obsessed son would love blood oranges before he even tried them.  I first had a blood orange when I moved to Italy and I remember being a little shocked and a little excited when I saw the dark red juices and bright orange colors burst forth from that fruit.  They look like normal navel oranges but on occasion they have a reddish blush across one side of the peel.  And when you cut into them, one end is much bloodier in color than the other, which is almost like an orange-yellow-red rainbow in a cross-segment.  Amazingly - nay, bloody beautiful.

Likes: I don't find the flavor of a blood orange amazingly different from that of a regular orange (some say it contains a hint of raspberry), but to me the wow-factor of the appearance and the name (variations include the exotic: Moro, Sanguinelli and Tarocco) makes the difference in price worthwhile.
They are only available for part of the year, and that itself makes them a special occasion.  Roman was thrilled to have one in his lunch, cut into bright, bloody, fully-peeled segments.  When I picked him up his teacher told me he'd eaten all his oranges.  And he said, "But it wasn't just an orange.  It was a blood orange, Ms. Cavanaugh."  I was proud.
More on blood oranges from my beloved Melrose&Morgan.

3. Navel Oranges

Looks: Despite its deceivingly common facade, the navel orange is just so much fun.  It's better than the common orange (usually Valencia oranges in these parts) because it's easier to peel and less juicy - both factors in a less-messy experience if you're the type that peels oranges by hand.  It is also characterized by the funny belly-button looking growth at the top which is actually like a mini-baby-orange growing at the top of the big orange.  I like to call that growth, much to Matt's horror, "the brain-child."  Something about it reminds me of Krang from the Ninja Turtles.  Don't ask me why that's appealing, but it is.  Call it a bit of whimsy to your orange-y snack, if you will.

Likes:
When you're looking for a delicious, sweet-and-not-bitter-orange-experience, for me the Navel orange is the way to go.  If you peel it by hand you also get to eat the brain child.  But I usually just cut it into fully-peeled segments (no pith or membrane) for myself or Roman.  It is accompanied perfectly by some Tajin chile & lime seasoning powder (available at Walmart), for a Mexican twist.

2. Grapefruit
Looks: To me there's nothing quite like the pinky-orange color of a Ruby Red grapefruit.  You can get grapefruits that are yellow too, but they don't appeal to me in the least.  I like the bring salmony-coraly pink ones that make you feel like they're at the peak of ripeness.  And I love to eat them with a serrated grapefruit spoon.  We only have one in our drawer right now, which may soon prove problematic as Roman has become quite the grapefruit fiend.

Likes: Growing up in Texas, the Ruby Red grapefruit was ubiquitous, and yet - revered.  It's so pretty.  This bright red grapefruit is the Texas state fruit and is the only grapefruit to ever have a patent awarded to it.  I won't lie, there is some pride associated with eating it for me.  Though, really, in the end I have to admit that sometimes I just really want something bitter.  Like a nice Campari Portofino, or a mean Negroni, or a...grapefruit.  And really that's the main reason I love grapefruits.  They bring a new dimension to citrus - a certain je ne sais quoi that the average orange just doesn't have.  They stand up to strong flavors - precisely why they pair so nicely with fennel and pistachios in the salad I'll share below.


1. Lemons & Limes
Looks:  We all obviously know what lemons and limes look like so I won't get into that.  I will say that I prefer regular-sized limes to key limes (unless I'm at a Mexican taco stand) and that my life changed when I first tried southern Italian lemons.  My biggest complaint with regards to these common citrus fruits is that most people do not know how to choose them in a supermarket.  Nothing irks me more than a dry lime or a lemon that is so hard and whose skin is so thick that you can't get more than two drops of juice out of it. 
When choosing lemons and limes there are two things to look for: thin skin and soft, supple flesh.  If they feel squishy, they have lots of juice.  If the skin is thin, you will be able to get all that juice out.  Oh, and when chopping or slicing them for guests to use with a meal (calamari, for example), please do us a favor and don't provide thin, round slivers: either hand out halves or quarters, but nothing less.

Likes:
I simply cannot pretend to like any citrus better than I like lemons and limes.  It's odd to me that I've actually never dedicated an entire post on my blog to them because they are one of the few ingredients that are always (and I mean always) on hand in my kitchen.  It kills me that in Portland I had to pay up to $0.65 per lemon for a while, but now that I'm back in the southwest I've found my wonderful Mercado where, at one point in the year, I got limes for 20/$1.00.  I used to eat limes every single night.  My favorite drink of all-time is homemade limeade (or lemonade).  While that's not such a habit anymore, I can honestly say that I truly believe all food tastes better with a squirt (or twenty) of lemon or lime juice on it.

Honorable Mentions: Meyer Lemons & Yuzus
I have a limited experience with Meyer lemons and the Japanese lime-like fruit Yuzu.  Apart from making an ill-fated batch of homemade limoncello back in 2005 (which Matt threw out due to a random fit of paranoia regarding botulism), I've never made anything with Meyer lemons again.  I've never consciously tried Yuzu but I see it all the time.  I think maybe I need to make this Shaker Lemon Pie (better, I hope, than the one pictured below which we ate at the actual Shaker Village in Kentucky) with the Meyers and - if I can ever find them - some Yuzus.

*  *  *

Winter Citrus & Fennel Salad with Pistachios

Serves 4 as a side dish

Ingredients
1 large ruby red grapefruit
2 blood oranges
2 navel oranges
1 lime (optional)
1/2 bulb of fennel, sliced thinly with a mandoline, or by hand
2 Tbsp roughly chopped pistachios
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar

Method
Slice all the citrus fruits by first peeling and then segmenting them so there is no pith or membrane left behind.  For contrast you can also slice a few of them into rounds once you've peeled them, but this is optional.  Add the sliced fennel.

Make the dressing by mixing the oil, vinegar and some salt and pepper in a bowl until the oil is emulsified.  Add to the salad and toss lightly.  Adjust the seasoning and then sprinkle the pistachios over the top.  Serve cold or at room temperature.

*For a variation add some butter lettuce or arugula.  If you're bold, add a sliced avocado. Also, it's nice with a tsp of dijon mustard in the dressing, but personally, I prefer it without.

Kickin' in 2012: New Boots & New Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ

New Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ; interior

And we're back.

The yearly holiday pilgrimages have been made.   We hit Connecticut.  We hit Texas.  It was wonderful and exhausting and bountiful, good food was had in both locations.  There are so many culinary adventures, in fact, I am absolutely spoiled for choice in writing this blog.  I almost feel like I'm cheating on someone by choosing just one to focus on! Alas, the infidelity will be rampant, my friends.

* * * 

Real Men Wear Boots.

Good ol' Cavender's

Going to Texas is always a mix of nostalgia and excitement for me.  Despite its warm familiarity I always find that there are facets of Texan culture that are utterly foreign to me.  This year, Matt decided to dive head-first into one of the ones I'd always avoided like the plague: cowboy boots.  

I suppose that nowadays maybe boots have come back into fashion for non-cowboy / western / boot-wearing people in today's pop culture, but growing up in Texas, people who wore boots were considered a subculture of their own, akin to "preps" or "nerds" or "bangers."  They were country people - "kickers," as we liked to call them - something that angsty teenagers such as I tended to avoid, fashion-wise anyway.  Well, as my luck would have it, somewhere along the way - between my mom and James getting a couple of pairs and Matt's business trip down to Denver where he caroused with all-sorts of cowboy types who wore boots with suits - Matt decided he needed to own a pair of cowboy boots.  

Initiation night for Matt's new boots.

He insisted that the afternoon we arrived into Texas we should go (almost directly) to Cavender's to get fitted.  He walked out of that place feeling (and admittedly, looking) like a million bucks in a beautiful new pair of Lucchese - boots.  They sure are mighty fine.  

My sister looked over at me and smiled and, encapsulating the great, wonderful irony of my life, said, "I don't know how you did it Brenda, but you found a cowboy."

* * *

Real Men (also) Eat BBQ While Wearing Boots.

Yes, this is the entrance.  We almost drove right by.

But back to the food (yes, I am a total truffle pig).  In keeping with the southwestern spirit Matthew had invoked, this year we finally made a long-awaited pilgrimage to a place I had only heard of in passing but my brother-in-law and step-dad had been dying to try for years:  New Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ.  A mouthful - and in more ways than one.  And wouldn't you know it, just a little over a half an hour ride from my mom's house, so not too inconvenient.  The Church of Holy Smoke.

view into kitchen area from dining table

The place is beyond country.  The one-room white wooden house sits next to its namesake Baptist Church and literally sits atop concrete cinder blocks.  The paint has seen better days and so have the screen doors.  Upon approaching the front door, you are met with several bbq pits and smokers of colossal size.  The inside is no-frills, no-nonsense and old fashioned.  The bathroom can look a little intimidating but it's shockingly clean.  The seats are fold-out chairs and the decor is a charming combination of nostalgia-meets-souther-baptism.  

Good old Annie Mae Ward opened the place up by accident 20 years ago; her husband was painting the church and she was cooking him some lunch.  The smell reportedly had cars stopping off the highway and it all went from there. She has been giving most if not all her profit to the church ever since.

The story's good but the food doesn't disappoint either.  Chicken, Sausage, Brisket and Ribs.  The holy Tetralogy.  Choose your poison - they come in a 1, 2 or 3 meat plate which includes sliced white bread, potato salad, bbq beans and pickles.  If you're still hungry after the monster helping, you can have some homemade pie: pecan or buttermilk when we visited.  Delish.  The ribs and brisket were my favorites - both melt in your mouth and smokey to boot.  And their homemade bbq sauce.  There are no words.

I wouldn't call myself a BBQ connaisseur, but by simple virtue of having lived in Texas for an extended period, I have had the good graces of eating lots of it.  Some good, some bad, and some divine.  New Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ falls into the latter category.  

Of course it does.

An American Classic: Homemade Funnel Cakes

Roman's First Funnel Cake - homemade too. :)

This Christmas was spent in Texas, where we ate many delicious things - many homemade, many not.  While a prime rib roast (which we made twice over Christmas break) does rank high on my all-time top foods, I was reminded of another food that is also among my favorites on my Texan culinary adventures - a more humble food for the masses, country-folk fare, you might even call it.  Fair-fare, if I may be so bold: The Classic American Funnel Cake.

Funnel cakes are a funny thing.  I had a couple on my trip home to Texas, but it was the first time I'd had them since I was a child.  They are truly a "niche" food - I have never heard of anyone making funnel cakes at home because they are reserved for that special experience when you go to a carnival or fair, or Six Flags as was the case with me.  Their smell is unmistakable, and their taste even moreso.  The whole experience of the carnival music, the flimsy paper plate, and powdered sugar flying all over your face is the thing that childhood memories are made of.  Which is why I simply couldn't get them out of my head after my Christmas-time binge.

Another issue of note with funnel cakes is that they are mostly associated with middle America.  When I decided to embark on a homemade funnel cake adventure, posted that I'd be making funnel cakes on Facebook a lot of my international friends commented in puzzlement - one of them was a pastry chef, mind you - with regards to what a "funnel" cake could be.  The Brit didn't know, the Kiwi didn't know, the Thai didn't know...it was only my fellow American friends who lauded the inclination and stated plainly they'd consider flying to Abu Dhabi if I'd make them one.

Yet, there seems to be funnel cake-esque desserts all over the world.  According to Wikipedia:

"In America, funnel cakes were originally associated with the Pennsylvania Dutch region. In Austria the equivalent is called Strauben and is made and served similarly. In Slovenian cuisine they are called flancati (pron. FLAN-tsa-tee). In Finland the analogous tippaleipä is traditionally served at May Day (Vappu) celebrations. In Ripon, North Yorkshire, it is also known as "Fennel Funnel Pie". It is also rarely called "Elephant ears".^[1] In the Indian subcontinent a similar dessert is called jalebi which has a somewhat chewy texture with a crystallized sugary exterior coating; in Iran this would be known as zulbia and is a popular dessert."

Who knew?  Then again, in all honesty, I can't say I'm terribly surprised.  Funnel cakes are so good that it figures the whole world has their own recipe.  Although I can't say I'd compare jalebi to American funnel cakes, personally. :) 

A very unfortunate funnel cake sign at a fair in Austin, TX
image credit

Funnel cakes are especially good when served piping hot and shared with a loved one.  And they pair admirably well with corndogs, another one of my favorite carnival foods.  This past December we all went to the Grapevine, TX Polar Express train ride with the kids and my sister and husband.  They got to meet Santa Claus, jump in a bouncy castle, and eat corndogs and funnel cakes.  I got to talking to the old couple in the funnel cake trailer, who told me they'd been making funnel cakes at all sorts of carnivals and fairs for years.  It turns out they use a mix they buy from a wholesaler (which makes sense) and can make, they said, up to 50,000 funnel cakes in one good weekend at at Texas fair.  Pretty impressive.  At $5.00 a pop, maybe we're in the wrong business? :)

I discovered a ridiculously easy recipe online that I adapted slightly and will share below.  And please also enjoy salivating over the pictures I took - do not attempt to fry funnel cakes while simultaneously taking action shots - fair warning. :)

***

Homemade Funnel Cakes

Recipe adapted from this one.

Makes 5-7, 6" Cakes

 

They're called funnel cakes because the dough is put into a funnel and released into a deep pan of hot oil in the traditional squiggly, wiggly shapes.  It's just as much fun to do as it is to watch, I've finally discovered after all these years of standing mesmerized at the fair.

The traditional topping for a carnival funnel cake is powdered sugar, but feel free to improvise.  And remember that the cake is meant to be cake-y, not crunchy, so don't be tempted to leave it too long in the oil.

Ingredients

1 egg
1 cup milk
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 1/4 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder

 Method

1. Beat egg and milk. Mix all other ingredients in a separate bowl and slowly add to the egg mixture, beating until smooth.

2. When ready to fry the cakes, use a cast iron pan (a small one works perfectly) and heat about 1-2 cups of vegetable oil (depending on the size of your pan) over medium-high heat until hot.d Test the temperature by dropping a drop of dough into the hot oil - if it fries right away without smoking, it's perfect.

Note: If you make the batter ahead of time and refrigerate, make sure to mix it very well and add a little extra milk if necessary or the batter will take forever to come out of the bottom of the funnel, and your cake will burn while you are trying to pour the rest of it.

The Action Shot.

3. Using a funnel, drop into hot oil working from center outwards in a web pattern. 

4. Cook for about 2-3 minutes or until golden on both sides.  Do not overcook - funnel cakes are meant to be more soft and cake-like than crunchy.

5. Sprinkle with powdered sugar (the traditional way to eat them) or drizzle with honey, caramel, nutella and serve immediately.  They also go great with ice cream and fresh fruit!

My Very Own Homesick Texan Chili

Chili, our Chili, God Bless the mighty stew!

We're back from Malta! And posts on the delightful Maltese culture and food (or lack thereof in the latter case) are forthcoming. But for now, a post I was inspired to write shortly before leaving for our little autumnal vacation on a subject near and dear to my little Texan heart: chili.

* * *

One of the first food blogs that inspired me to start writing my own is a wonderful site written by a fellow Texan who is also homesick. Having once been a "Homesick Texan living in NYC" myself, I immediately identified with Lisa. Her recipes are authentic, interesting and generally pretty darn delicious.

The dreary fall weather in London has been getting me down, and so I figured it was high time I finally got around to trying one of the many recipes I'd bookmarked on Homesick Texan: Seven-Chile Chili.

chiles de arbol - my stash

Rather a purists' Texan, the above recipe involves a huge variety of spices and chiles - stuff that probably most people would not have regularly in their pantries. A lot of it, despite being familiar to me through my own Mexican heritage, was not typical chili fair for me. I grew up with a fairly clear sense of what chili is and what it's not, and after perusing many recipes, I realized I had a rather boring and somewhat tame recipe.

So it was tough for me, at first, to alter that holy-chili-image in any way, but I made some tweaks and came up with my own recipe based on my own tastes and my own pantry or "bodega" as I like to call it. The moment I tasted my very own Homesick Texan chili recipe I realized that for once, and in the famous words of country-pop-whatever singer Sheryl Crow, some change had done me good.

* * *

What Chili is and is not.
In my humble opinion, as usual.

4. It is the Texas state food.
Among the many indoctrinating facts and songs I was taught as a young child living in the Lone Star State is this gem. I can also tell you that the Texas state tree is the Pecan tree, the bird is the mocking bird, the flower the bluebonnet (which is illegal to pick), that we have the right to fly our flag at the same height as that of the US, and I can sing entirely from memory the "Yellow Rose of Texas" and "Texas our Texas." (Yes, I am proud of all of this. :) )

Chili is in every Texan's veins. Everyone has their two cents on what should be in it or not and how hot or tomato-ey or not it should be. The variety and individual character of every family's chili is part of the charm of having it as the official state food. It reflects the diverse nature of a state so big and full of good food. :)


3. It is NOT Mexican.
But it is Mexican-inspired. Whether you make it with actual chiles or you just use good old Gebhardt's Chili Powder, the reason you're making chili at all has a lot more to do with authentic Mexican and Native American food than the cliched name might imply. This guy can tell you a whole lot more than that about Chili's Mexican (and otherwise) origins right here.


2. It is a labor of food love.
Chili is not something that can be whipped up in a few minutes. It is a stew, which by nature, takes time to, well, stew (no matter what Rachael Ray and her "stoups" have to say about it). A short-version chili will take you a good 45 minutes to an hour to make. Anything less zips right past the conditional and into the present affirmative case: it IS uncivilized. Chili is evocative of years of people on the range melding flavors, combining comforting, hearty ingredients to make a fulfilling meal for family and friends. It is worth choosing right and letting it simmer.


1. It is NOT one clear-cut thing.
Chili is as varied as the cowboys who first cooked it. I bet you didn't know that there are actually "technical" definitions for chili out there - well, there are. How can you really define chili?

The Brits like to call it "chili con carne" (and yes, they do nauseatingly pronounce it "carn-EE" as if it had small hands and smelled like cabbage), but actually it's anything but "chile con carne" which is a Mexican dish and very different.

There's white chili, vegetarian chili, chili made with every kind of chili pepper, tomato and type of bean out there. People in Cincinatti eat their chili served over spaghetti (won't even get into the Italian-sacrilege that is), and the guys at Sonic (America's Drive-in!) serve their chili over a giant American hot dog, put cheese on it and call it a "coney dog."

Who is right? What is authentic and real? Tomatoes or no tomatoes? Kidney beans or pinto? The intricacies of the chili purity are many and complex, but in my book I think it's worth overlooking these differences in the name of chilian unity. After all, I did just take the liberty to make up a brand new (for me) chili recipe today after years of eating my mom's chili, and if that's not sacrilege and yet exciting in one way or another, then I don't know what is.

* * *

My Very Own "Homesick Texan" Chili
Serves 4

Chiles Mexicanos
left to right: guajillo, morita, ancho, arbol

I'd never made chili with real chiles before, but having just returned from our trip to Mexico with bags (literally) of delicious, smokey Mexican chiles fresh from the mercadito, I just couldn't resist the mouth-watering temptation.

Rehydrating chiles and making a simple salsa from them is a typically Mexican way to start a guizado (roughly translated: stew) which usually involves a tomato base. In this recipe, the deliciously unadulaterated salsa is combined with other Mexican flavors (coffee, cinnamon, chocolate) to create a Tex-Mex delish. The addition of crushed coriander seeds evokes the Mexican predeliction for cilantro. The tomato paste gives the chili more substance and the flour thickens what would otherwise be a complex but runny beef soup.


Ingredients

Chiles:
- 2 anchos
- 4 chiles de arbol
- 2 chiles morita
- 2 guajillo
- 2 pasilla
- 2 chipotles en adobo

1 lb ground chuck (lean meat will not do!)
1 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed and roughly chopped
1 can kidney beans, drained
3 or 4 tbsps tomato paste
1 cup brewed coffee
1 bottle or can of beer (preferably darker)
2 cups water
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsps flour, mixed into 1/4 cup water

Spices (more or less to taste):
- 1/2 tsp cinnamon
- 2 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp crushed coriander seeds
- 1 tbsp cayenne pepper / chili powder
- 2 tbsp ground Mexican chocolate
- salt & pepper to taste


Method
1. Bring water to boil in a small pot (approx. 3-4 cups) then turn off the heat and add the dried chiles. Cover and allow to sit for 20 minutes. When chiles are rehydrated, put into the blender with approximately 1/2 to 1 cup of the chile-water and blend until smooth. Set salsa aside.

2. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Brown meat and then add the garlic and onion and sweat until translucent. Add the tomato paste and salsa and mix for 1 minute.

3. Add the coffee, beer, water, spices and beans then cover and simmer over low heat for 1 hour.

4. After one hour, correct seasoning and add the flour-water mixture. Mix thoroughly, cover and allow to simmer for another hour.

5. Serve sprinkled with grated cheddar cheese and tortilla chips.

In the Summertime when the weather is high...

my London mini-shrimp shrimp-boil;

still scoring rather high on the yummers-scale.

...I've got shrimp boils, I've got shrimp boils on my mind!

**Apologies to Mungo Jerry for bastardizing his classic song, but it's just so apropos. For the record, though, I don't know how the song is any more "bastardly" by substituting "shrimp boils" for the word "women." Yeesh Mungo, you sure got a way with a hell of a lot. For starters, your name, the boots, your moustache-toting-mulleted band members, mesogonistic songs about getting laid...but really your unbelievable luck at not being run out of town can all be summed up with two words: mutton chops.

For the past, oh, lifetime, I've been telling every single person that will listen and is likely to buy me a present that the only thing I ever wanted for my birthday was shrimp. Big, juicy, delicious, gigantic shrimp.

I think I've mentioned before that I had a small obsession with everyone's favorite seafood chain (besides Long John Silver's, of course - because who can get enough of those crunch extra bits that come with the fish and fried clams?!) Red Lobster (please, enjoy that commercial just one more time!) as a child. That, coupled with my lack of proximity to the seaside, my mom's claim and directly correlated unwillingness to cook shrimp because "cooking seafood stinks up the house," ensured that by the time I was 18, I had a full-blown obsession with eating shrimp. And once I was old enough to have my own income, I felt no guilt whatsoever going to my favorite fish monger Kenny at the awesome Agata & Valentina in the Upper East Side for the extra jumbo shrimp that cost $30.00 a pound.

After the first time I ate those shrimp I told Matt that my new birthday wish was no longer going to Red Lobster, but getting a gigantic bucket full of those extra jumbo shrimp, boiled and ready to peel given to me. And then eating them all in one sitting and not sharing a single one with anybody else. (Yes, I do know I'm a brat.) This has still not happened (ahem).

I find summer in London a time of particular difficulty in the shrimp department for a couple of reasons all leading to the ultimate conclusion that summertime is the perfect time to break out the spices and make a damn good shrimp boil, or else life is just not worth living.

* * *

Top 3 Reasons Why Summertime in London is Difficult in

the Proverbial "Shrimp Department"

because I apparently have a shrimp department in my head

3. Where the hell's the seafood?!

For an island, there's a surprising lack of good seafood here (maybe because they ship it all to France?!). Unless by "good seafood" you mean battered and deep fried cod or tiny "prawns" slathered in mayo. *gag* As far as shrimp, er, prawns, they are small. Small, small,small. I don't care how you change the name - king prawns, tiger prawns, jumbo prawns, they all boil down to one thing: crappy quality and inferior size. And they cost an arm and a leg.

2. Where the hell's the fishmonger?!

Unlike in New York, London seems to have a sad lack of fishmongers. Yes, you can find the odd fishmarket here and there - either in ethnic parts of the city or in extremely high end ones - places where there's a real fishmonger who knows what's what and is willing to explain it to you. But in general the fish departments at supermarkets offer old, pre-frozen glazy-eyed fish. Or worse yet, they don't sell raw shrimp! Yep, almost everything is pre-cooked. What's with that?!

1. Where the hell are the shrimp boils?!
Ok, so I'm not that shocked that they don't exist here, but I still have to complain. Given that most people in the UK think food with a dash of paprika is "spicy," I'm not surprised the Louisiana-spicy-as-all-hell-yumminess hasn't caught on in this neck of the woods. Nevertheless, I have made it my business to take advantage of the summer deals on raw prawns at Tesco by declaring Fridays Shrimp Boil Day. Hey, I'm a good Catholic girl. And besides, what's a little more heat in a heat wave? :)

* * *

Shrimp Boil Yumminess

pronounced "Shrimp Bowl" if you're from Texas

Serves 2

photo credit

Ingredients:

8 tbsps (or to taste) of Louisiana Crawfish, Crab and Shrimp Boil Spices

*you cannot buy this in the UK!

1 to 1 1/2 lbs jumbo shrimp (peeled or unpeeled)

2 ears of fresh corn, halved into 4 cobbettes

1lb baby new potatoes, washed

4-6 cloves garlic, whole unpeeled

2 medium yellow onions, quartered

4 tbsps butter

Tabasco sauce, to taste

2 lemons, halved

Procedure:

1. Place the garlic, onions, potatoes, butter and spice mix into a large pot and fill with water until all ingredients are covered with extra broth on top. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and mix until the spices are dissolved.

2. When the potatoes are almost tender, add the corn and leave to boil for another five minutes.

3. Just before you are ready to eat, add the shrimp to the pot. Allow to cook for five to eight minutes (don't overcook the shrimp!) and then immediately remove from heat.

4. Using a collander, drain the ingredients. Roll out some newspaper, get a roll of paper towels and pour that spicey goodness out straight on the table!

Serve with lemon wedges, tabasco sauce, some crusty bread and a nice cold beer.

Best eaten with greedy, grubby little hands and followed by a nice big slice of fresh watermelon or some scooped out cantelope, in the true spirit of summer.

A Friendly Summer Salad

A friendly summer salad.

Moving to a new place as a Texan always posed a unique challenge. Finding a home that feels homier than the Lone Star State is hard enough, but finding a city that can come even somewhat close to demonstrating the kind of friendliness you find in Texas - where the state motto is "Friendship" - is even harder. Sadly, I found London to be particularly lacking in this department.

Not that there aren't friendly people in London, or that Texas is simply the best-est place in the whole wide world (*evil grin*) but it's just difficult to find openness, unabashed helpfulness, and willing friendship from strangers in ANY big city. Couple that with the unfortunate reputation for stand-offishness that the British have won themselves over the years, and what you get is a somewhat isolated, and mopey Texan girl going to the Texas Embassy (yes, there is a Texas Embassy in London and for the record, it sucks) for a little love in a bottle: Shiner Bock Beer.

"Tejas," another word for friendship :)

Some days this cheesy, over-the-top tourist haven was the only place I felt like I could get a smile from a stranger. (Plus, on the 4th of July our waiter was dressed up as Maverick. You can't beat that shizzle.)

Luckily those sad days of desperation are long gone. You'll be relieved to know I no longer frequent the Embassy of the Texas persuasion because, strangely enough, fate has seen to it that I do not go crazy by putting a little piece of home right in front of me wherever I go. Among the many friends I now have here in the UK are 4 Texans! One of them worked with me at cupcake land, and the others I've met through a series of serendipitous events over the course of the past two and a half years. I can't complain.

This weekend we visited our friends Alex and Laura (a Texan couple) for a little comfort food - a BBQ lunch. I was asked to bring a salad, and that is today's recipe. It's not a Texan salad by any means, but it is quite friendly in its own rite. And it goes great with some barbecued meat, Texan style. :) Today's list is inspired by this salad but also by the inevitable nostalgia brought on by the summer weather...

* * *

Top 5 Summery Things I Miss About Texas
because there's nothing like the pathetic British summer
to make me miss the irrepressible Texas sunshine

5. Real BBQ sauce & Real BBQ'd meat
I don't even know where to begin describing the blasphemous sticky-sweet cumin-spiced God knows whatsits that pass for BBQ sauce here on this Godforsaken isle. Suffice it to say, there ain't no cowboy on the range that would be caught dead using the stuff on his brisket, loin, ribs or kielbasa. Uh-uh. No way. No how. Feed it to the coyotes. (And that's "kigh-oats" for those of you who can't read "Texan.")


4. The Ice Cream Truck
Unlike these sad excuses we have in London, the ice cream trucks in Texas are the next best thing to an ambulance when suffering from a little summer heat attack. They stop for you if you yell or run after them (unlike here) and they have the coolest frozen snacks ever.

None of this "flake" BS; we're talking serious pink panther bar - rocket bomb - rainbow snow cone - banana chocolate bullet - cone with the peanuts on the top and the chocolate at the bottom - Bluebell ice cream sandwichy - goodness. Oh yeah. Mmmmm.



3. Summer Clothing That You Actually Get to Wear
I always tell Matt that clothing companies in the UK should be sued for false advertising when they put their summer clothes on display. You can't wear flipflops or tank tops or swimsuits in the UK for more than a cumulative 7 days a year, if that. There are just as many cardigans and long-sleeved shirts in my (and Roman's) wardrobe right now as there are short-sleeved and skirts. Forget shorts. You wear those and people think you're going to the gym or you're weird. You go to the park decked out in your summer best when the sun is shining and you are just as likely to come home shivering and wet from the surprise rain and wind storm that came upon you (unsuspecting, optimistic fool!) as you are to come home with a yellowish, pathetic excuse for a tan.

photo credit

In Texas, you're weird if you don't own at least 5 types and colors of sandals - and that's if you're a guy. Girls have coordinated flip flops and open-toed shoes to match each and every halter top, tube top and summer dress in their closet. And if you don't have a pair that quite fits the occasion or attire, all you have to do is run to the nearest clothing store and they'll have a selection of every imaginable type of summery footwear on the shiny, happy, summery face of the Texan earth. Plus, in Texas, shorts and baseball caps are considered adequate dress for a night out on the town. The real accessories are the rosy cheeks and margarita glass.



2. Air Conditioning
Having sung the praises of Texas sunshine, let us now be honest and sing the praises (almost loudlier!) of that God send we all know and love (if you've grown up in a hellaciously hot and humid place): Air Conditioning. No, we don't call it AirCon, no matter what this D-bag says (see 1st commercial) and no, I'm not talking about those useless lame-looking window units you Yankees buy. I'm talking about the bonafide outdoor unit - central air with a built-in thermostat that the guy has to come and install.

I don't care how much of a hippy you are, or how much you might complain that AC gives you a cold or smells unnatural or whatever. If you've lived in Texas (or been there on a hot day) you will know what I mean when I say that AC is straight from God.

So you have to carry a sweater in your car because the office gets cold even when it's 120 degrees outside. So you feel like you might faint when you leave the AC and enter the desert-like heat. So you can't open your front door for more than 10 seconds at a time without adding an extra $20.00 to your energy bill. So what? AC still rocks.


1. Public Swimming Pools
Growing up in Texas there is one thing every child looks forward to the minute May begins: the opening of the public swimming pools. Back in my day $1.50 got you an entire day at the deluxe water-slide-outfitted public pool. You could buy snow cones, chili dogs, nachos, or even frito-pies. All your friends were there (even that guy you had a crush on!) and it always seemed like noon to 7 went by in the blink of an eye. Playing marco polo, washer dryer, running across (and subsequently biting it) on the giant plastic lily pads in the pool. Getting sunburnt, eating sandwiches in the summer breeze on the picnic tables wrapped in a giant beach towel, and showing off your new flipflops. These are the things Texan summers are made of.

Lily pad lane at my hometown public pool; ah the delight of running across!
photo credit

*Honorable Mention: The Texan Margarita*

I maintain that margaritas are better in Texas than even in Mexico. Whether you go to On the Border, Ninfas, Texas Roadhouse, or just make them at home with a little Cuervo and some lime, they are the summery drink of choice for men and women alike in Texas. And they do the job - if by job you mean get you wasted and refreshed at the same time.

They also get bonus points for going well with the aforementioned BBQ'd meat while also making a trip to the public pool in your air conditioned car that much more fun. Just kidding. Kinda. >:)

* * *

CousCous & Arugula Salad
A Fresh & Friendly Summer Salad Indeed

Serves 4

I decided to make this couscous salad for the BBQ with Laura and Alex because it's easy, fresh, and really delicious. To my surprise, Laura had also made couscous, so we had a lot of it with lunch. :) Nevermind, the different ingredients and textures in here complimented the pork loin perfectly and we enjoyed her version just as well!


Ingredients
1 cup couscous (I use preflavored packs sometimes; lemon and coriander works great!)
1 cup water (or chicken broth for more flavor)
3 plum tomatoes, chopped into medium chunks
Arugula, cleaned (about 50g or 2 cups worth)
mint, small bunch chopped roughly
1 lemon, juiced and zested
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
1-2 tbsps olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium ball buffalo mozzarella, roughly torn into chunks
salt & pepper to taste

Procedure
1. Make couscous by bringing water to boil and pouring over the couscous in a heat resistant bowl. Cover and leave for 5-10 minutes. Fluff and flake the couscous with a fork until it is fluffy.

2. Add the garlic and mint to the cous cous and mix.

3. Make a dressing with the oil, vinegar, lemon juice, zest, and some salt and pepper.

4. Add the tomato, arugula, mozzarella and toss everything lightly with the dressing until combined.

*Best done while the couscous is still a little hot or warm so the arugula wilts just a bit.