Marinara Sauce from Scratch

I have some friends who, since the advent in recent years of competitive cooking shows, have flattered me by saying that I should try out for one of those shows. The truth is, I am really just someone who likes to eat, and experiment at home. I have no clue as to certain types of cooking technique. There are areas I just haven't ventured into yet (see the following), and areas I never intend to venture into (why would I try and make great Chicago-style pizza at home when Lou Malnati's makes the perfect pie?) I would be sure to make a total ass of myself on national television. Want a for instance? Here is my shame: until last summer, I never ever made marinara sauce from scratch - meaning, from real, whole, fresh tomatoes.

But you can't say that about me now!



I have friends, blog-reading friends, and adamant strangers tell me that (especially as an Italian) I should be loaded into a cannon and shot straight into hell for not making my sauce from scratch every week. Maybe they're right. But how do you sustain this 100% of the time? Humbly and truly, I just do not get it. The sauce I was taught to make comes from canned tomatoes. That's not really "from scratch." (Maybe that's what some of these people mean, as opposed to jar sauce. Well, if that's what they mean, then THEY'RE not making sauce from scratch, either.) Anyway, that's all I've ever done: either dad's sauce or marinara from canned tomatoes, or a good jar sauce when in a hurry, sick, or hung-over. (I know, I know. But don't throw your tomatoes. Save them for sauce!)



Here's what happened. Ma came to visit, and brought (sorry Ma) a SHIT-ton of beautiful, fresh tomatoes and a lorry-load of okra. What I usually do with tomatoes from her garden is grab a salt shaker, slice, and eat. But this was more than we could have gotten through before the fully ripe beauties went bad. We ate our fill (she, Chris and I) at every meal, and I still had a ton left when she left. So I called my brother and said, "How the hell do I do this?" He said to wash up the tomatoes (natch) and to dip them for a minute or two in boiling water. Then you could peel off the skin, and seed them. These garden tomatoes were so ripe, I just had to run them under hot tap water. I peeled off the skin, split them open in my hands, and scooped out the seeds with my fingers. I set them all aside in a bowl.

I heated a deep skillet with some olive oil, then heated some garlic in it. I finely diced as much onion as I wanted in it, then heated that. I added some "baby bellos," (small portobello mushrooms), and sweated those. Then I added the tomatoes, as much fresh oregano and basil as I thought proper, and some red wine. I kept letting it cook down, adding salt, pepper and about a bit of sugar as I went (it cuts the acid). I just kept tasting it, and soon it was definitely sauce. Whoopee! The bellos are optional, and I like to add a bit of red pepper flakes, but if you don't care for a spicier sauce, you could leave that out, too. You could add green pepper but... guh. Not for this kid.

I had plenty of sauce left over for pizza and pasta throughout the week, so perhaps if I ever get a deep freeze and the garden going next year, I can make enough over a summer to ALWAYS make my sauce from scratch (or at least defrost it that way).

Apologies

I've been gone so long!

Chris and I went back to Portland, this time together. We both loved it. I got back on the train the day after we flew back here, to go to my mom's. And that was lots of fun, too. I'm really blessed to have the type of family that likes to sit around and laugh (on both sides). I only have two first cousins in the whole world (how un-Italian-like, and they're on the non-Italian side of my family), and they are funny, funny people. I feel very fortunate.

Anyway, I have pics of Portland (again), and I don't know what-all, since I haven't been able to face the prospect of unloading my camera and phone of all they contain. Tomorrow and Tuesday I work two long days (that's okay considering I have taken so much vacation -- the practice has been slow, anyway), and then off to Bourbonnais for Thanksgiving. My boss is giving us each a turkey for our families, so I will be hauling that down in a cooler for Wilma and I to cook!

Anyway, I will post today, and my apologies again if I am in and out all week (or out, mostly.) The funny thing is, I am up to a record number of hits-per-day and growing, so it doesn't seem to matter so much whether I am here of not. :)

Talk to you soon!

Gina

Fried Okra

Mom came for a visit recently, and she brought lots of goodies from her garden. She brought fresh tomatoes, and a ton -- and I mean a ton -- of okra.



Okra, she said, is not something she ever grew up with on my Grandpa Ray's farm in southern Illinois. When she and my stepfather Bill got married, it was something she quickly learned to cook, however, as he did grow up with it in Oklahoma. Bill likes his super, super well-done (blackened and crispy).

I made this batch under Ma's supervision, if you will, and it couldn't have been any simpler. You just slice it, dip it in flour (which I seasoned with Adobo and pepper, and a little cayenne), and then fry it.



There is no need for egg or anything like that, as the okra is a bit "slimy" all on its own, and the flour just sticks to it. I didn't put the literal "burn" on this batch that Bill likes, but I liked the little touch of spice that was present due to the cayenne. It is crunchy and fun to eat -- like popcorn.



Still got lots of okra left... I have sliced it up, and stuck it in the freezer for the next time the mood for fried okra strikes me, or perhaps I will make some gumbo with it for Christopher.

Summer and a Cup of Cheese Sauce

Been a busy few days with no time to post... Ended a run of "Oliver!" and had mom here for the weekend. Took a lot of pictures, though! I have quite a bit in the hopper, and there will be more posts to come in the next couple of days.

For today, I am still a bit short on time, so I have a photo of the last time I visited the Imax theatre in Lincolnshire to see the movie, 300. While renting movies last night, I was trying to explain to Ma why this movie was so great, but I may have used the phrase, "Shirtless men, fighting a lot" to get my point across one too many times. Wouldn't that be enough for anyone?

Well, it was enough for my friend Jen S. and I, who attended with some other friends with much anticipation. The movie did not disappoint. She and I both ordered a soft pretzel, with a side of cheese sauce at the theatre. Along with the drink, a single pretzel and the cheese came to nearly nine breathtaking dollars, which is I guess why they try to give you your money's worth in a sort of misplaced way... What we received for our dough was a small beverage cup, filled with liquid cheese along with our pretzels. Each. One of which I then attempted to photograph in the near-complete darkness.



About sixteen ounces of liquid cheese... Much like the movie, it was sort of repulsive and thrilling, all at once.

Wilson's Grill

Now and then, when I go to visit Ma, we will make a pilgrimage to Fairfield, IL to go to the Farmer's Store. Don't know where that is? What if I told you it was in front of "CDC's New 2 U Resale Shop" and across the street from Buehler's Buy Low? Ah, thought that might help.



I don't know where the Farmer's Store gets their merchandise, but it is the greatest. They have cheap fabric and sewing notions, clothing stocks so old you can get stuff from the sixties with the tags still on, shoes, earrings, belts... You can shop until you drop for less than forty bucks.



They don't have food there, but we of course had to stop on the way to eat. She suggested Wendy's, which I like, but I wanted to go somewhere more local. We found Wilson's Grill and it seemed to be just what I wanted.



Everyone kind of stared at us for a second when we walked in, but I'm pretty used to that in southern Illinois. Even as kids, my brother and I would get just a little too tan and provoke questions as to our heritage. As teenagers, we looked worse than foreign -- we looked like delinquents. And foreign. We'd routinely get followed around stores by worried managers.

Anyway, once inside, everyone was really friendly. Clearly, they just recognized out-of-towners. Of course, I also realized that I had forgotten my camera. I looked up and saw this sign, and I knew I was going to have to document the experience:



I sprinted across the street and purchased a disposable camera. They only had one variety at the gas station. I want you to know, that the pictures in this post may not be top quality -- but they cost me ten bucks. Appreciate that fully.

I ordered the pickles, and a burger with cottage cheese. I don't do french fries with my burgers, you may remember. Especially not when I'm eating deep fried pickles, anyway.



The burger was fresh and tasty. Certainly as good as Wendy's. Okay, better. And the pickles?



Pretty good, too, I must say. No surprises there -- imagine a deep fried dill pickle, and you'd be fairly accurate at predicting the taste. And the experience, for me, was well worth the ten-spot. Especially since Ma treated me to lunch!

The Low-Carb Experiment (Part 3 of 3)

So here's the last thing I did on Ma's last illustrious weekend here. And boy, she hasn't been getting this treatment lately. She's been coming into the hygiene clinic to sit as my patient, and then going home the next day. I'll treat her like a special guest again in May!

The Kraft South Beach book had a recipe for Sun-Dried Tomato Steaks... only thing is, it called for some no-carb steak sauce that I couldn't find. And what I mean by that is, they didn't have it at Joe Caputo's, and I didn't go anywhere else. I made them with the cheat of using my beloved Country Bob's steak sauce instead.



They were very simple to make. You brown lean steaks in the pan, then remove them. In the pan, you then sautee garlic and sun-dried tomatoes (Caputo's had excellent fresh ones, of course, that smelled like a summer garden). Then you add some beef broth, and some steak sauce, and pour that over your steaks. Poof. Fancy steaks.

The mock potatoes are steamed cauliflower that you transfer to the food processor. I added lowfat ricotta cheese, salt and pepper, garlic, and parmesan. You can also use fat-free cream cheese. You can add broth or milk, if you need to thin them. I think they were everyone's favorite part of the meal. They need a lot of seasoning, but once you add plenty I think they are delicious. They reheat really well, too, over the course of up to a week and then some. (I made a lot).

After her time here, I called Ma and she said she'd given up on South Beach already. Still, I think the recipes are keepers. Personally, I can't say I really believe in any diet that requires me to do anything too precisely. I'd rather stick to my own parameters, and the flexibility that I have within those "personal rules." I'd rather go light one day if I overdid things the day before. It just feels less fascist.

The Low-Carb Experiment (2 of 3)

Okay, let the suspense end. I don't want to get back to studying for my National Board Exam tomorrow, anyway. (I'll be crying in my coffee tonight.)

There was a recipe for salmon cakes on Epicurious or one of those... I took a quick look and then ran with it. I used a couple of pouches of salmon, seasoned them (garlic powder, salt and pepper), chopped some bell pepper, dill, and parsely, and some scallions. I added just a few tablespoons of light mayo, one egg, and a TON of parmesan cheese (don't know how much, just weigh out "one ton.") I figured if parmesan made those nice little crusts on my Saganaki Chicken, it could do the same in this recipe, instead of the carb-offensive breadcrumb. I balanced the mayo/parm until it just nicely hung together and was still a little wet.

I pan-fried the cakes in just a little oil. It was a bit of a trick, experimenting with oil vs. no oil. I think they worked better with less oil, but don't expect them to ever flip flapjack-style as a nice cohesive unit. Wait a couple of minutes before you move the sucker at all, then just shove the spatula under, check underneath for toastiness, say a little prayer, and turn. (Multiple flipping isn't really an option, so just be patient before you flip the first time.) I removed them from the pan and let them drain on paper towels.

I squeezed plenty of lemon juice over the whole thing, served it with avocado, and slathered it in the Yogurt Dip as I chowed down. Holy moly, it was good. So good that I don't think I'll stick with the parmesan as my "official" recipe. It's a keeper! They also re-heated really well, as Chris found out when he got home, and mom and I had been making and eating lunch for most of the afternoon.



Also thought I'd take this opportunity to post a sad little "retro pic" (taken with the old junior-high camera) of a salmon log I made a long time ago with the Kraft Southbeach Book. I gave it to Ma, so I can't check... But it is basically low or nonfat cream cheese, a couple of drops of liquid smoke, S & P, diced onion, and flaked salmon (drained well and paper towel-patted). I mixed well, formed it into a log shape with plastic wrap, and rolled it in sliced almonds and parsely. I served it with crudite for a nice summery meal (and whole-wheat crackers, because I've never really been on the Diet per se). Kept nicely in the fridge for a couple of days!

The Low-Carb Experiment (Part 1 of 3)

My sainted mother Mary Ann (don't get me wrong, she's still alive) is coming up this week, and she's doing me the favor of bringing not only herself, but her college-hood best friend, Mary Fran (I'm not making this up) as a body in need of dental hygiene help that I might prey upon. I mean, treat. That I might treat.

The last time Ma came up from southern Illinois, she told me ahead of time that she was on the South Beach Diet, and not to go to any trouble, she said. Just buy her some lean meats, string cheese, and some veggies, she said. Oh, and some sugar-free Jello. But what, I say? Go the easy route you say? NOT ACCEPT THE GLOVE CAST DOWN IN A CHALLENGE, YOU SAY? Oh, no. One large shopping trip to Joe Caputo's, a consult with my freebie Kraft South Beach recipe book, and it was game on, Mary Ann!

My first meal was a lunch for the two of us. I chopped some veggies crudite (still can't make the accent in this font, too lazy to try) and made a dip. I used an idea from the Kraft book, and made it, well... better. I used some home-made Greek yogurt from Caputo's as a base (you could use lowfat mayo and fat-free sour cream, instead), and added some fat-free yogurt to thin it out a bit. I added chopped cucumber, fresh dill, scallions, tahini paste, and a little Splenda (we're talking Phase I, people) and salt. Oh, and lemon juice.



It was thick, creamy and refreshing. We were scooping it by the quarter cupful. I readied the platter for a photo in my favorite spot-lite above the dishwasher, and as I did so, I realized Ma was not yet trained as my husband is. Where he would have waited patiently with fork in hand, she picked up a carrot and totally plunged into my PERFECT SWIRL. "My swirl!!" I cried, re-forming with the back of a spoon. This lady had a lot to learn!

The dip also went really well with the main protein attraction... And WHAT IS IT, you slobber on your keyboard? Oh HO! My four readers will have to wait in eager anticipation.

Tomorrow, probably. Or Wednesday. I am a master of suspense.

Mi Casita

Last time I went to see Ma, we had planned to go to Alfonso's (in Lawrenceville, IL), but when I ran in just minutes before our meal was to take place, the owner was a jerk about me using her restroom. So we decided we wouldn't ever eat there again (we are tiny, yet vengeful people).

So we trotted over to what is pretty much the only other ethnic place in town (this strike on Italian food may not be an easy one for Ma, since she lives there year-round): Mi Casita. Ma said it hasn't been there long, but she loves their food. Well, so did I! Ma had her current favorite, the "quesadilla texana." It had steak strips inside, and a seasoning like I haven't ever had. It wasn't carne asada or anything I'm familiar with, but it sure was savory:



I'm ashamed to say it, but I don't actuall remember what mine was called. I'm also ashamed to say that I tore through half of the dish before I remembered my duty to take a photograph. It was a creamy, chihuahua cheese enchilada platter, with shredded chicken in green chile sauce on the top:



I finished all of it, and you can see in the upper right, a corner of Ma's texana, too. I've had no small amount of Mexican food in my lifetime, and I've been to many places in Chicago (such as one that may have some wonderful guacamole, but was otherwise disappointing) that were much more expensive.... but I can honestly say I don't think I've ever enjoyed any Tex-Mex or Mexican meal quite so much as that one. So if you're ever in Lawrenceville (and believe me, if you are, you're gonna want ethnic food like a parched man needs water)... this is the spot!

And good thing, too, since the Italian joint is dead to me forever... Vendetta! Vendetta!