Basil-braised Baby Potatoes

I was sort of aware of baby golden potatoes, but hadn’t really cooked with them. That is, until one of our daughters this summer gave us half bag of them, along with other perishable loose ends, to use up as she and her family headed off on vacation. Now I’m trying to figure which preparation with them is my favorite.

While Italian-type basil still flourishes in my garden, braised baby potatoes with basil is my new go-to easy side dish. It nicely accompanies grilled meat or salmon and doesn’t need any gravy or sauce. Maybe in winter some other version will emerge, since these potatoes are so simple to prepare and so delightful.

The recipe serves 4-6 as part of a dinner meal. The potatoes can be cooked fresh before dinner or prepared ahead and quickly re-fried to serve.

3/4 pound (12 ounces) baby golden potatoes

1 small shallot or 1/4 of an onion

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons water

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Small pinch nutmeg

Small pinch cayenne

10 medium-sized fresh basil leaves, sliced

Rinse but do not peel potatoes, rubbing the outsides well. Cut potatoes into halves then each halt across into half. Peel and finely chop the shallot or onion. Have the other ingredients ready.

Heat to medium hot a heavy frying pan or sauce pan that has a lid. Add the olive oil and potatoes. Stirring very frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan with metal spatula, fry for 2 minutes.

Add water, shallot or onion, salt, spices and sliced basil leaves. Stir then fry 2 minutes, covered, then stir and scrape again. Cover and fry another 2 minutes. Continue the alternating frying and stirring until the potato is tender when tested with a toothpick. If potatoes are drying add a tablespoon of water as needed. Taste and if needed add a little salt.

Keep warm if to be eaten soon, or cool, refrigerate, then re-fry to heat for serving.

Gourmet (“Best Damn”) Sloppy Joes, to Feed a Crowd on the Cheap

With prices on beef rapidly rising, maybe it’s time to crank back out the casual dish that used to feed a lot of people for limited money. Its a fun dish I always liked, whether at the high school cafeteria or at home feeding a crowd.

“Sloppy Joes” emerged, obscurely, from Depression-era America as a way to season and stretch ground beef. It’s a sort of cheeseburger with all the fixings thrown together while cooking. Spooned onto a bun, the savory mixture is irregular and can drip a little as you eat it. Thus, I guess, the “sloppy.”

Decades ago, when my wife graduated from college and we had little money, Christina’s rich relation, the substantial Aunt Babby, came to the graduation and to our celebratory picnic after it. I served Sloppy Joes. Having grown up with Old Money in New York City, fed sumptuously by family servants and at classy restaurants, Babby announced gamely, “Well, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a Sloppy Joe before!” Returning vigorously for seconds, she declared, “Well, that’s the best damn Sloppy Joe I ever ate!”

Sloppy Joes combine hamburger (or ground turkey nowadays) with onions, ketchup, mustard, cheese and seasonings. I stretch it even further with bulgar wheat. They’re are served on hamburger buns or Kaiser rolls. Pickles, coleslaw or salad accompany the dish well. Sloppy Joes cry out for beer, especially at a picnic or tailgaiting. But hearty, not too pricey, red wines also do fine.

The recipe serves 6 people. Leftovers keep and reheat well.

1/3 cup bulgur wheat (available at whole food and health food stores)

1 pound ground beef (80 % lean or more) or ground turkey

1 large onion, finely chopped

1 small or 1/2 large carrot, grated

1 large bay leaf

1 medium-large clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press

5 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon oregano

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1 tablespoon tomato paste or 2 tablespoons ketchup

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 1/4 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

5 teaspoons sugar

7 teaspoons cider vinegar

3 ounces cheddar cheese, cut in small cubes or grated

Soak the bulgur wheat in about 3 cups of hot water for 30 minutes. Drain in a sieve. Meanwhile, fry the meat in a heavy, non corrosive pot, breaking up the meat and stirring frequently. When the juices start to dry down, set the pot off the heat, make a cavity in the meat, and spoon out and discard the majority of grease. Return the meat to the heat and add the chopped onions. Stir frequently, cook until the onions are translucent. Add the grated carrot, bay leaf, and garlic. Cook over medium heat, covered, stirring from time to time, until the carrot bits are tender. Lower the heat, add the dry seasonings, and cook, stirring, for a minute. Add the tomato paste (or ketchup) and mustard. Simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Add the drained bulgur, and cook, stirring occasionally (the bulgur makes the mixture stick to the bottom a little), for 5-10 minutes, until the bulgur is tender when you bite it. Do not add water unless the mixture is very dry. Stir in the salt toward the end of this cooking. 

Add the sugar and vinegar, and let simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Taste and add salt if needed. Stir in the cheese, and heat, stirring frequently, until the cheese is melted and no longer is stringy. Remove the bay leaf. Taste a final time and add salt if necessary. You can also add a little sugar or vinegar, to taste.

It’s best to make the Sloppy Joes a few hours or up to several days ahead of time, refrigerate, then reheat to serve. Check the salt before serving.

Serve on Kaiser rolls or burger buns, A little grated cheese can be served on top of the mixture, if desired. Accompany by coleslaw (or salad) and/or pickles.

Chopped Pork braised with Peaches, for Georgia

Prices are getting higher as we appear headed into inflation at the grocery store. It’s feeling once again like the recession we experienced in the early 2000s. That’s when I started my first recipe blog. I named it “Gourmetfauche,” which is French slang for the broke, or impoverished, gourmet. In it I used virtually no nice cuts of beef or lamb and no shrimp or salmon, except around St. Patrick’s Day (despite my Italian surname, I’m mostly Irish). There was plenty of ground meat and chicken thigh.

Right now I’m feeling like I did back then. And I created an inexpensive dinner dish with my adopted home state of Georgia in mind: braised chopped pork with peaches. It goes well with seasoned (“dinner”) grits and a green vegetable. It’s a little reminiscent of “Breakfast for Dinner,” since the pork is flavored like breakfast sausage.

I initially tried a barbecue-flavored pork with the peaches, but without the long moist smoking it wasn’t very successful or convincing with the chopped pork. So I switched the seasonings to resemble breakfast sausage. With grits, such as dinner grits (described elsewhere in this blog, July 30, 2023) or simply white breakfast grits, and a green vegetable, it makes an economical but tasty evening dinner. And it suggests, if not celebrates, Georgia.

The recipe serves four to six people. Accompany with seasoned grits plus a green vegetable. Salad would also accompany it well.

1 pound ground pork, not too fatty

1 large peach, peeled and stoned, finely chopped

1/4 small onion or a small shallot, finely chopped

1 hot pepper, finely chopped or 3/4 teaspoon crushed dry pepper

1 teaspoon paprika

3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon dry thyme

1/2 teaspoon dry marjoram or savory

1 teaspoon salt

Parsley for garnish, minced or in small pieces

In a heavy pan, place pork, peach, onion or shallot, and all seasonings except salt. Heat and stir very frequently until the pork’s color fully changes. Add salt, and cook over low heat for 15 minutes or until tender. If the meat dries, add a little water. Taste and add salt if needed.

The dish can be served now, or refrigerated and reheated (microwave or stove top). Either sprinkle with minced parsley or place a few small pieces of parsley on top. Accompany with grits (fancier dinner grits or simpler breakfast grits) plus a green vegetable.

Figs with Prosciutto – Prosciutto e Fichi

At peak season right now in northeast Georgia, figs are luscious. We have two very productive trees at the restaurant. Most of the harvest (that survives eating right off the tree) is destined for fig chutney, which stores well and is used in some of our baked goods and appetizers. But for several weeks fresh figs lend themselves to a special treat from northeastern Italy, served cut into halves (quarters if larger than ours) and topped with a small curl of dry-cured Italian Prosciutto ham. 

Figs are one of the earliest fruits domesticated by humans, dating back about 6500 years in the Near East. Prosciutto is pretty ancient too, dating back to at least early Roman times, with several written descriptions from that era. The city of Parma was noted in 200 BC to be a center of the production. Prosciutto di Parma, is still one of the most valued of the dry-cured hams from Italy.

Making prosciutto is simple in concept, though complex in practice. Hind legs from specially reared pigs are skinned and deboned then cured in salt for one to two months to extract all liquid and to prevent spoilage or harmful organisms. The hams are then rinsed off and hung to dry for many months, up to three years..

Prosciutto is typically sliced and sold paper-thin. It’s fairly expensive, given the long curing process. But it is used in small quantities as charcuterie and to highlight pasta dishes, fresh mozzarella and other cheeses, and fruits like melon, peaches and figs.

Other than finding fresh tasty figs, and the sometimes painful price on prosciutto, making Prosciutto e Fichi is simple. The dish serves as a starter course or an antipasto.

For each person:

4-5 small figs or 2-3 larger ones

1 thin slice prosciutto

Cut stems off figs. If using smaller figs, split them in half lengthwise. For larger ones cut them lengthwise into quarters. Lay them out on an attractive plate or platter.

Cut 1 slice of prosciutto per person crosswise into the number of pieces needed to cover the fig pieces for 1 person. Either drape a piece of prosciutto over fig piece, or roll or fold the prosciutto piece and place on top of the piece of fig, whichever method looks better for the figs used.

Allow to sit at least ten minutes for flavors to blend a little. Serve at room temperature.

French Cucumber Salad with Sour Cream and Dill

I first had this dish many years ago in Lyons, France. It was prepared by an excellent cook who was also a medical researcher I was visiting. The salad was the cooling starter course for dinner on a warm summer evening. It’s easy to make, particularly if you use a vegetable slicer for slicing the cucumber. Although the salad was originally finished with crème fraiche (French cultured heavy cream), American sour cream or plain Greek-style yogurt do almost as well.

The recipe serves six as an appetizer course or side dish for dinner.

2 large regular cucumbers or one long (plastic sleeved) cucumber

8 ice cubes

1/2 teaspoon salt for preparing cucumber plus 3/4 teaspoon for seasoning the salad

1 small shallot or 1 large scallion (green onion)

1 tablespoon white vinegar (wine or distilled)

1 teaspoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

2 tablespoons freshly minced dill (reserving 1 teaspoon of it for garnish)

1/4 cup crème fraiche, sour cream, or Greek yogurt

Peel cucumbers thinly, leaving some green color. Quarter them lengthwise. If the seeds are large, cut off and discard seed section. Slice cucumbers very thinly (a vegetable slicer makes this easier). 20 minutes before serving time, mix sliced cucumbers with ice cubes, enough water to reach the surface of the cucumbers, plus 1/2 teaspoon salt. Mix together gently and allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Drain well.

Slice shallot or scallion (green part also) very thinly and add to the cucumber. Add vinegar, sugar, pepper, most of the dill, and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Stir well. Allow to sit at least 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt and add a little if necessary.

Just before serving, drain away the juices. Add crème fraiche, sour cream or yogurt and mix in well. Taste and adjust salt, if necessary. Spoon into a shallow, attractive dish and dust with the reserved dill.

Chicken Sautéed with Fresh Herbs – Pollo alle Erbe

With fresh herbs lush in my garden right now, I was reminded of a delightful dish I first had many years ago in Tuscany outside Florence at the home of a college friend of my wife who had moved to Italy and married an Italian. Nancy cooked the dish while we talked and nibbled homegrown olives and oiled, garlic-rubbed bread. I remember that she sautéed the chicken in their own olive oil and deglazed the pan with local white wine. I can’t recall for sure if she finished the dish with cream, but I now do that. She probably didn’t use cream, which is not as common in Tuscan cooking as it is further north in Italy. More likely she finished the dish with grated Parmesan. But I’m sticking with cream.

She served the sautéed chicken with some sort of pasta. I also recall that she, her husband and I drank a light-bodied Chianti with dinner, that was made by a friend in their town.

For the chicken as I make it, a good accompaniment is a pasta or rice dish, or polenta or seasoned grits. A colorful vegetable like broccoli or asparagus goes well, as does a simple salad. At a fancy Italian dinner the salad would be served after the main course, but for a simpler meal, especially at home, the salad can be served with the main course. Italians would include bread freshly cut or torn off  the loaf to sop up the sauce.

A light-bodied red wine like Chianti or Pinot Noir or a fuller-bodied white wine like a Chardonnay or Viognier, in my opinion, pair nicely with this. Italians, especially at home, traditionally drink their wine from small tumblers rather than stem glasses.

The recipe serves six people, but leftovers are enjoyable.

1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breast (2 large or 3 medium breast halves)

1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper plus 1/2 teaspoon cornstarch for the chicken

3 tablespoons (loosely packed) chopped fresh herbs (at least three of the following: chives, sage, marjoram, rosemary, thyme, oregano, basil, mint)

4 tablespoons thinly sliced shallot or onion

1 medium clove garlic, minced

2 teaspoons minced parsley for garnish

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/4 cup white wine

1/2 teaspoon salt for the sauce, plus more to taste

1/4 cup sour cream

1/4 cup water

Trim off fatty or tough parts from the chicken. Cut each breast piece lengthwise down the middle. Then slice each piece crosswise into 1/8-inch thick slices. Mix sliced chicken well with the salt, pepper, and cornstarch. Set aside.

Coarsely chop an assortment of at least three fresh herbs to make a total of 3 tablespoons. If using heavier-flavored herbs like rosemary, marjoram or thyme, use a little less of them and more of the lighter-bodied herbs. Set aside.

Prepare the shallot or onion and the garlic. Set them aside. Mince parsley leaves and set aside 2 teaspoons of them for eventual garnish.

Heat a large frying pan to medium hot. Add olive oil, and as soon as it’s hot, add the marinated chicken and stir and fry it until the color has fully changed. Add the prepared herbs, shallot or onion,  garlic, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir the chicken well and cook one more minute while stirring. Add wine and stir and fry for another minute to dry down a little.

Add the sour cream and water, stir well while continuing to fry until boiling and sour cream is well mixed in. Remove from heat. Taste the sauce and add a little salt if needed.

Serve with pasta, rice, polenta or grits. Sprinkle with minced parsley. 

Roasted Butternut Soup

I’ve loved butternut squash since I first encountered it as a kid growing up in southern New England. My father, skilled at farming, tried the then new vegetable in our family garden, where I used to tag along and “help.” Butternut seed had just become available about 1950 (please don’t do the math), and butternut quickly replaced the traditional Hubbard as the favorite winter squash. Butternut is now grown throughout the world because of its excellent eating and storing qualities.

As its name indicates, the squash is both buttery and nutty in flavor. These features are most pronounced when the fruits are fully mature, with the skin thick and uniformly tan and the stem hard and dry. The flesh is then rich orange and sweet. Its luscious intensity is further enhanced by baking.

Where I grew up, we ate most winter squash boiled, mashed and slathered with butter, or occasionally baked with brown sugar or maple syrup, butter and spices. My mother, a skilled cook but who with four kids didn’t spend time on complex dishes (“if it takes more than one bowl or one pot it’s too fussy”), kept it simple. By contrast, I’ve made soups with butternut, as well as curries, gratins, ravioli filling, other pasta and rice dishes, and even a roasted butternut salad.

Here is an evocative favorite for the fall season, roasted butternut soup. It is not too difficult and shows the squash off to advantage.

The recipe serves six, but extra soup stores well and seems even better after a day or two. While typically served hot, butternut soup can also be eaten cold like its non-relative, gazpacho.

1 large or 2 medium butternut squash (about 2 pounds), ideally ripe and hard

1 small onion, finely diced

A 6-inch piece of celery, finely diced

6 tablespoons butter

5 cups chicken broth (low salt) or vegetable broth

1 1/2 teaspoons salt plus more to taste

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon oregano

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

A small pinch of ground cloves

(3 tablespoons cashew butter or ground cashews, optional)

Minced parsley or tiny sprouts (leafy parts) for garnish

Set oven for 350 degrees.

Cut butternut in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Place squash, cut side up, on a baking sheet and roast it until tender when pierced with a toothpick. Let cool.

Meanwhile prepare the onion and celery and fry them gently in the butter using the pot in which you will make the soup. Stir frequently and fry until the vegetables are tender but not browned. Remove from the heat.

When the baked butternut is cooled somewhat, scoop all the flesh out from the skin. Place it, along with the fried onion-celery mixture and its butter in a food processor or blender (this may need to be in two batches), adding a little of the chicken or vegetable broth. Puree the mixture. Transfer it back into the pot. Add the remainder of the broth, the salt and spices (and cashew butter if used). Simmer for 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt, and add a little, if needed, to taste.

The soup can be served now, or refrigerated and served hot – or cold – later. Garnish with a little finely minced parsley or tiny leaves from baby sprouts.