Mussel and White Bean Stew

This dish falls squarely within that category of recipes that are so simple, every ingredient really matters. It's a quick dish too. You do have to pick the mussels from the shells after they're cooked and opened, but even that step only takes a few minutes. This came from last October's issue of Food and Wine, and the total time for making this is noted as 30 minutes. I think it might have been less than that. So, about those ingredients. The mussels, of course, need to be as fresh as can be. They get steamed in some white wine, and then that broth is strained and added back to the stew, which means you'll want to use a wine you really like. Then, a good amount of olive oil is used for cooking some garlic and chopped chiles to begin the stew. I was lucky to have just received some olive oil samples from Nudo which is the company known for its Adopt-An-Olive-Tree program in Italy. I received two gift sets. One included three different olive oils, and the other included basil oil and a container with seeds for growing your own basil. I used the plain extra virgin olive oil for sauteeing the garlic and chiles, and I drizzled a little of the extra virgin olive oil with chilies over the stew for serving.

The cooking time is so short, you definitely want to have everything prepped and ready before you start. I let the mussels sit in a big bowl of water with a little flour while I minced the garlic and chopped the chiles. The mussels were rinsed and drained and checked to be sure none were open. Then, they went into a big skillet with white wine and cooked until opened which was about three minutes. The mussels were removed to a plate, and the wine was strained into a bowl and reserved. The mussels were picked from the shells, and the shells were discarded. Next, extra virgin olive oil was warmed in the skillet, and the garlic and finely chopped chiles were sauteed. Rinsed and drained white beans were added followed by the reserved wine. That was brought to a boil and seasoned. Last, the mussels were added with some chopped homegrown parsley.

This is perfect on a cool, fall day, but for a stew, this one isn't too heavy. A thick slice of bread or two is a good accompaniment, and the drizzle of extra virgin olive oil with chilies was a fitting garnish. For such a simple stew, the flavors were anything but after starting with great ingredients.

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Beer Braised Chicken Stew with Biscuits

You would think I would have learned from the last two food blogger potlucks I attended, but no. Another potluck was held on Sunday, and I really thought that this time I’d just nibble on a few things and not leave completely stuffed. The theme for this potluck was beer, and the event was held at 512 Brewery. So, not only did I lose track of how many incredible dishes I sampled, I also sampled several delicious beers. More info about the potluck can be found at Foodie is the New Forty and at Relish Austin. I had a couple of ideas for dishes made with beer, and one was savory and the other was sweet. I’ll post about the sweet one soon. First, I wanted to try braising chicken in beer, and I imagined the flavorful, slow-cooked meat and vegetables would work well in a pot-pie kind of dish. I mostly followed the recipe for Ina’s Chicken Stew with Biscuits from Barefoot Contessa Family Style after the chicken was cooked. This was an experiment because I had never before braised chicken in beer and wasn’t sure if that would incorporate too much beeriness or not enough or if the chicken meat would be an odd brownish color. I decided to give it a whirl and find out the answers.

I wanted to be sure that I was in fact braising and not stewing or roasting, so I first referenced Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking. After a quick look at his definition, I knew that I needed to lightly coat the chicken pieces with flour, briefly sear the pieces, and then add enough liquid so that it would not evaporate as the chicken cooked but not so much that the chicken would be submerged. I used four bone-in breasts and two thighs, and in the roasting pan I used, two and a half 12 ounce bottles of Boulevard Oktoberfest beer was the right amount. After searing the chicken, I added small potatoes, whole shallots, and big chunks of carrots and celery before pouring in the beer and covering the pan. Also, from Elements, I learned that braising should happen at a temperature no higher than 300 degrees F, and that’s the temperature at which I set my oven. After an hour and a half, the chicken was cooked through and had reached 165 degrees F. The next step for a successful braise is to let the meat cool in the braising liquid. This is why I started this process early. I left everything in the dish with the braising liquid and placed it in the refrigerator overnight. The next day, I removed the meat from the bones and chopped the vegetables into small pieces for the stew. Good news: the chicken meat had not turned an ugly brown at all, and it was as tender as can be.

For the stew, the sauce was made with five cups of stock. Again, I wasn’t sure if the braising liquid, which was all beer, would be too beery for the sauce. It had been flavored with the chicken and vegetables while in the oven, but I decided to use only four cups of it and one cup of plain chicken stock so as to hedge my bet. Some finely chopped shallots were browned in 12 tablespoons of butter with some finely chopped sage and rosemary, and then three-fourths of a cup of flour was added to form a roux. The stock and braising liquid were stirred into the roux to form the sauce, and after thickening, one quarter cup of cream was added as well. The chicken, potatoes, carrots, and celery were added with a package of frozen peas and some chopped parsley. Once well mixed, that all went into a baking dish which was placed in a 375 degree F oven for 15 minutes. Then, the stew was removed from the oven and topped with biscuits that were made with parsley in the dough. After brushing an egg wash on the biscuits, the stew went back into the oven for another 30 minutes.

After all my worrying about the dish tasting too beery, in the end, the flavor from the beer was actually very subtle. I could smell the beer in the dish, and the flavor was there but it was nicely mixed with the chicken and vegetables and biscuits and herbs. This whole process may seem labor-intensive, but each step was very easy. The original recipe in Barefoot Contessa Family Style suggests quickly roasting chicken breasts and using them as soon as they are cool enough to handle. However, if you’d like to try a beer-themed meal, I highly recommend a slow braise with a medium-bodied brew and letting the meat cool in the pan. It smells amazing as it cooks, and the texture of the meat is as good as it gets.

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Pozole Rojo

Pozole, also spelled posole, is a stew made from hominy, or nixtamal, which is dried corn. The dried corn itself may also be called pozole or posole rather than hominy. Cooked, canned hominy is also available, but for this stew you’ll want to start with the dried kind. When our weather finally changed, the dark, rainy sky made it seem like time for a slow-simmered stew. I stole ideas from two different recipes, and just to complicate matters, I changed a thing or two. First, I had read Deborah Madison’s pozole recipe in Vegetarian Cooking for Everone which starts with soaked pozole simmered in water with a few dried guajillo chiles, some smashed cloves of garlic, chopped white onion, and dried Mexican oregano. I also looked at Rick Bayless’ recipe in Mexico One Plate at a Time which is a pork and hominy stew. I wanted to skip the pork entirely, but I was interested in the addition of some stock once the corn is cooked to a tender state. Also, in that recipe, some ancho chiles are rehydrated and then pureed. That puree is strained into the stew when the stock is added. After picking and choosing and changing this and that, I ended up with a mix and match pozole rojo. Stick with me on this, most of the time involved is spent reading a book while the stew simmers, and the result is worth every minute.

The day before I started cooking the stew, I poured boiling water over the dried pozole and left it to soak until the next day. From reading the information in Mexico One Plate at a Time, I understood that the longer the pozole could cook the better. Bayless points out that it’s often left to simmer overnight before fiestas. I drained the soaked pozole and began cooking it in fresh water about five and a half hours before I planned to serve it, and I would guess that three hours would be the minimum cooking time. The goal is to cook the corn to the point at which it flowers, or the kernels begin to open somewhat resembling popcorn. I added the chiles, garlic, onion, and oregano as suggested in Deborah Madison’s recipe. After three and a half hours of cooking, I added a couple teaspoons of salt. An hour later, I added some chicken stock and pushed the pureed ancho chiles through a strainer into the stew. That was left to simmer for one more hour. During that last hour or so, you should taste the stew a few times and consider adjusting the seasoning. I ended up adding almost two tablespoons of salt before the corn and broth were well seasoned. Bayless explains that the corn absorbs a lot of seasoning, and extra salt is usually needed.

Last, but certainly not least, are the toppings. Pozole is presented with any combination of the following: thinly sliced cabbage, thinly sliced radishes, dried Mexican oregano, tostadas, sliced jalapenos, cubed avocado, lime wedges, cilantro leaves, diced onion, crumbled queso fresco, and sliced meat such as the grilled chicken that I served. A warm bowl of tender, cooked corn with a fragrant, deep red broth is topped with whichever of those items you choose. And, it happens to be delicious served with crunchy tortilla chips and the roasted salsa verde from Mexico One Plate at a Time.


Pozole Rojo
combined, adapted, and adjusted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone and Mexico One Plate at a Time

3 c dried pozole
½ onion, chopped
3 large garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
3 dried guajillo chiles, washed, stemmed, and seeded
1 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano
6 ancho chiles, washed, stemmed, and seeded
2 quarts chicken stock
salt and pepper to taste

toppings:
4 c thinly sliced green cabbage
3 limes, cut into wedges
5 radishes, thinly sliced
2 jalapenos, thinly sliced
1 c cilantro leaves
2 c sliced, grilled chicken
1 avocado, peeled and cubed

-in a large, heat-proof bowl, cover dried pozole with boiling water so that water’s surface is two inches above top of pozole and let stand until the water is room temperature; place bowl in refrigerator overnight
-drain soaked pozole and place it in a large stock pot; add four and one half quarts fresh water, the chopped onion, smashed garlic, guajillo chiles, and Mexican oregano; bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer; simmer for three and a half hours or longer if time allows; stir occasionally; add two teaspoons salt after about three hours and stir; continue simmering
-meanwhile, in a small saucepan, bring two cups water to a boil; add cleaned ancho pieces to boiling water and remove from heat; once anchos have rehydrated and cooled, place them with some of the steeping liquid in a blender and puree until smooth; place a strainer over the stockpot and press ancho puree through it into the simmering stew; add two quarts rich, homemade chicken stock to stew; add a tablespoon of salt and stir to incorporate; taste the stew a few times as it simmers for another hour to hour and a half and add salt to taste (possibly as much as another tablespoon)
-serve bowls of stew with a platter of toppings, some tortilla chips, and a bowl of homemade roasted salsa verde

I'm sending this to the Mexican Fiest at aromas y sabores.

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Shell Beans and Summer Vegetables Stew with Cornbread

Fresh, local vegetables inspired a southern vegetarian meal that started with watermelon margaritas and fried okra. For the main course, I turned once again to the book Local Flavors in which Deborah Madison creates a summer vegetable stew that combined all the local vegetables I had on hand. The stew also incorporates fresh shell beans which are beans that are too large to be eaten in their pods and not yet fully dried. Some typical shell beans are borlotti, white runner beans, and cranberry beans, and soybeans and purple-hull beans can be eaten this way too. Purple-hull beans are a common Texas crop, and they’re available right now in their fresh form. Shell beans do not require soaking and cook in about 30 to 40 minutes. With my CSA vegetables, locally grown beans, and homegrown herbs, I had what I needed for a summer stew.

Sticking with the southern theme, cornbread was a natural to go with the stew, and this was a great excuse to use my cast-iron corn stick mold. My Mom gave this pan to me a couple of years ago, and I hadn’t gotten around to using it, but I love it because it’s something I have in common with Jacques Pepin. In Chez Jacques, in the story about fried chicken and cornbread, he describes a cast-iron cornbread mold with seven corn-shaped indentations which is exactly like mine. So, he wrote a recipe for cornbread that makes just enough batter to fill that mold, but he admits he sometimes has extra that he bakes separately in a small pan. I followed his recipe which interestingly involved separating eggs, frothing egg whites, and then folding them into the batter. I ended up with a little more batter than I needed and baked a small square of cornbread in addition to the molded sticks.

Preparing the stew was a simple process of adding the vegetables in the correct order for cooking times and seasoning each layer as it was added. To begin, olive oil was warmed in a Dutch oven over low heat, and bay leaves from my struggling to survive tree were added. Then big chunks of onions and halved garlic cloves were added with thyme sprigs and sage leaves. That was covered and left to cook while the rest of the vegetables were cleaned and chopped. Then, carrots were added followed by potatoes and then green beans. Big strips of bell pepper and thick pieces of pattypan squash went on top of all of that, and last but not least were tomatoes with their juices. That was all left to simmer for about an hour while the purple-hull beans cooked with some garlic and thyme. When the shell beans were cooked, they were added with their cooking liquid to the stew. A quick basil pesto was made to garnish each serving of stew.

Given how little effort went into the layering and simmering of the stew, the resulting flavor was surprisingly good. The herbs had mingled their way through the sauce of the stew and gave it a richness I didn’t expect. The low heat allowed the vegetables to retain their shape and some texture, and the garlic had mellowed to a nice state. By stirring the basil pesto into the bowl of stew, a sharper, brighter herb and garlic flavor was added. It was a fresh, warm bowl of summer, and it couldn’t have asked for better company than the cornbread.

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