My Eats and Beats

Monday, September 10, 2012

On Fire with Pappa al Pomodoro

My kitchen adventures this past weekend were far from ordinary. There were extreme highs and extreme lows of emotion, coupled with cooking success and failure. Riding the wave of my stellar shrimp and grits earlier that week, I decided to stick with the "southern" genre of foods and set my appetite on frying catfish. This is one of my favorite meals, and I was eager to make it on my own.

After a trip to Whole Foods, I came home to unwrap 3 beautiful catfish fillets on my spotless granite counter top. Fast forward an hour later, and there is a huge puddle of splattered hot oil dripping from the stove down to the floor. My first two attempts at deep-fried catfish have turned into deep-fried crap fish. My self-esteem sinks lower by the minute as my blood pressure rises by the second. I’m about ready to throw in the towel when my husband walks over to the stove, begins cutting the catfish into smaller pieces, dredging them in batter, and delicately laying them into the cast iron skillet. He’s the best. Whether dinner that night was a disaster or triumph, it matters not. I’m lucky enough to have someone whisper in my ear, “what matters is that you tried something new”. You win some you loose some. C’est la vie, non?

But let’s be honest. No one wants to end the weekend on a loss. So, Sunday afternoon, I break out the big guns: the barefoot contessa’s “Back to Basics” cookbook. I knew Ina Garten had a recipe that would put me back in business. I chose her recipe for pappa al pomodoro – a rustic Italian tomato soup that’s thickened with ciabatta bread and garnished with home made croutons and pancetta. It was perfection. The flavors were so hearty, and this soup is even better the second day. Sautéed onions, carrots and garlic lay the foundation for this recipe. Whisking the ciabatta into the soup of plum tomatoes and chicken stock give it a real creamy flavor and chunky texture. Definitely add this to your list of soups to make this fall. Click here for the recipe.

Alicia Key's new single "Girl on Fire" is the tune to my culinary victory dance. From a fried fish job gone wrong to a heart-warming soup, I turned that frown upside down with this recipe for pappa al pomodoro.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Shrimp and Grits

Tuesday marked my first day back at work after a leisurely 4 day weekend. And, as most working folk know, the first day back after a holiday weekend means you hit the ground running to catch up from days off. As soon as I got home, I turned on the lights, dropped my bags on the floor and went straight to the refrigerator for a Corona. Hmmm. We must have finished the Corona the night before. No worries; I'll have a glass of wine. Except there is no wine. Looks like I'll make a gin and tonic. However there are no limes! What will I do?

You might read this and wonder if these are signs of a drinking problem. False. Or you might read this and completely relate to the fact that one of the best ways to take the edge off of a busy day at work is a little alcohol (not exercise). Just enough to take the tension off your shoulders and put work behind you. So, I grab my reusable Target tote (trying be green) and head to the local liquor store where I choose a fine $12 bottle of cabernet sauvignon and head home. Crisis averted, dear friends.

Now let's get down to the real reason why I'm writing this post: last night's dinner. I am crazy about shrimp and grits, as any true South Carolinian would be. If it's on the menu, I order it. I'm also quite particular on the taste. I like the roux to be simple in ingredients and packed with flavor. And I hate when it's served as more of a soup instead of with a spoonful of grits in each bite. The grits should also be thick and creamy. My theory in why most people do not like grits is because they've not been properly prepared. Any who is any Southerner's authority on cooking grits? Their mama (or grand mama). As mine put it, the 5-minute quick Quaker grits actually take 30 minutes. Stir frequently and add water as needed. Grits are corn; you can watch the pot of grits rise and pop as they cook. When the popping rhythm and frequency subside, it's a good indication that the grits are done cooking.

I've actually never made shrimp and grits at home, and this holiday weekend presented the perfect opportunity to get back in the kitchen and expand my portfolio of recipes. As if the 5 star rating and 146 rave reviews on Tyler Florence's "ultimate shrimp and grits" weren't convincing enough, Mr. Florence can do not wrong in my book. And he did not disappoint. Last night's shrimp and grits was hands down as good (if not better) than any I've had in a restaurant. And it was easier to make than the grits! The inclusion of andouille sausage, cayenne pepper and hot sauce bring the heat and Cajun spice into the mix. The roux keeps it classy with minced onion, garlic, chicken stalk and bay leaves.

I just want to take this dish to all my neighbors and say, "Here you go. You're welcome." Making this recipe last night was just what I needed to kick my cooking confidence up a notch (or ten)! If you're feeling a little adventurous or want to experience a true southern meal, make this version of shrimp and grits. You won't be sorry. My only variation was making Quaker grits (see above) versus Tyler's directions.

Shrimp and grits is a low country dish that, when mixed with The Drifter's "Under the Boardwalk", brings about memories of coastal Carolina summers and easy living...with a hint of sophistication.

Tyler Florence's Ultimate Shrimp and Grits - click here for the recipe.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

I'm Home

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

Maya Angelou

I haven't been home in nine days. Unfortunately it's not because I've been sunbathing on a beach somewhere or traipsing through Europe. Nope. I spent this past week in a little town (emphasis on little) called Bristol, TN. My job brings me to Bristol twice a year for the NASCAR races where my neck gets a little red and my southern drawl becomes more of a twang. Let's put it this way. Bristol's population is somewhere around 50,000. During race week, it's 150,000. I've never quite experienced the spectacle that is NASCAR. But that's another story for another day. Let me just say this: only at a race track would you find Aqua Net in the ladies' bathroom. Queue Jeff Foxworthy's "you might be a red neck if..."

The earlier part of this week was spent in Memphis for meetings. Fortunately, I get to see my family when I'm there and can sleep in my old room; no hotel! Tuesday afternoon, I drove three hours up Music Highway, between Memphis and Nashville - breathing deep as I walked through my front door and was greeted with the familiar scent of home.

About 20 miles outside of Nashville, Phillip Phillips' serenaded me through the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee as I made my way back home. After nine consecutive days of dining at restaurants, race tracks and fast food joints (one moment of McDonalds weakness), I think it's safe to say I have some serious cooking to tend to!

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Happy 100th Birthday Julia Child

Wednesday marks the 100th birthday of Julia Child, the woman lovingly known to Americans as "The French Chef". I was just 19 when this culinary icon passed away, yet her spirit is ever eternal with each toast of “bon appétit”!

For starters, Julia and I have a few things in common: a first name, a love affair with France, and all the pleasures of cooking. But what was it about Madame Child that made her so enchanting to millions? Inspired to learn more about the person before the celebrity, I’m reading Child’s autobiography “My Life In France”. Julia and her husband’s grandnephew, Alex Prud’homme, compiled the book during the last 8 months of her life. It primarily focuses on the years between 1948 and 1954 while she and Paul lived in Paris, Marseilles and Provence.

What I have come to know of Child thus far is a contagious joie de vivre. She has a certain je ne sais quoi that puts a smile on your face and makes you want to carry that 6'2'' bundle of joy around in your pocket all day.

Thus on the eve of her 100th birthday, I opened my copy of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and took to the kitchen with Julia. In less than 20 minutes, I made 2 beautiful servings of bifteck saute au beurre served with a simple green salad and sauce vinaigrette. Thanks to the detailed instructions from Julia, the steaks were cooked properly and perfectly. There wasn't a leaf of lettuce left in the salad bowl as we used slices of baguette to soak up the last drop of vinaigrette. Julia doesn't just supply you with a list of ingredients and a recipe; she gives you the culinary lesson.

Bon appétit!

Monday, August 13, 2012

Our House is City House

Nestled in Nashville’s neighborhood of Germantown, slightly north of downtown, is City House.

Over the past 3 years City House, a converted sculptor’s studio, has been featured in publications such as the New York Times Style Magazine, Food and Wine, bon appétit, Garden & Gun, and Nashville Scene. Each story about Chef Tandy Wilson’s rustic Italian restaurant is rightfully as praiseworthy as the last. So, it should be no surprise that I had to taste what is becoming my favorite restaurant in Nashville.

I have since dined at City House three times in the past 7 weeks. One of my favorite things about City House is that amid all of its popularity, it is one of the most unassuming and charming restaurants in town. Simply put, this house is grounded on the principles of good food, good service and good company.

I was as giddy as a school girl the first evening Stewart and I walked through the front door of City House. In addition to the friendly hostess, you are greeted by the boisterous chatter among the restaurant’s clientele. Without a reservation Stewart and I sat up at the kitchen bar, overlooking the chefs preparing brick oven pizzas, pastas and desserts. It was the best seat in the house! A bowl of tomatoes and a fresh basil plant sat on the counter to my right. I watched as servers came up to the bar to take food to the other tables, and my appetite went wild with hunger. Before I knew it, Stewart and I practically licked our plates clean of 2 appetizers, 2 pizzas, and 2 desserts while washing it down with artisan cocktails and espresso. If gluttony is a sin, I bought a one-way ticket to hell with that meal. And I’m clearly not feeling that bad about it, since it’s been a repeat occurrence ever since.

A word to the wise: Do not make plans to go anywhere but home after you leave here. Your bellies will be aching (with pleasure) over the best meal you’ve ever eaten, and your brain will be on the verge of a food coma. I am 3 for 3 in going straight to bed after a night at City House.

How is that possible? Let’s examine the evidence from my visit last weekend.

We start off with the house cured salami, parm.