Mo' Tomatoes

In my search to find more stuff to do with the surfeit of tomatoes I find myself wallowing in, and inspired by a half loaf of leftover French bread, I recalled a simple but scrumptious appetizer I first tasted when we visited Italy a few years ago and have enjoyed since in some of the better Italian eateries. Bruschetta (pronounced broo-skeh-tuh) are, (It's always plural. I guess you'd never order one "Bruschetti."), delicious little morsels of toasted bread topped with what amounts to an Italian tomato salsa. I looked on-line for a good recipe, one for which I had all the necessary ingredients on hand, and, not coming up with exactly what I was looking for, I took a bit of this one, and a bit of that one, and created a version that I think is just about the bomb.

I used three different colored heirloom tomato varieties, (Green Zebra, Kellogg's Breakfast, and Brandywine), because that's what I had on hand, and it does make for a beautiful presentation with the green, yellow and red tomatoes bathed in olive oil and sprinkled with little white flecks of garlic and onion. However, I'm quite sure it would be almost as good with any fresh tomatoes.

As for the bread, if you can buy it the day before so it's slightly stale it's best and easier to slice but, if not, no worries. (BTW, Bruschetta actually refers to the bread itself, which can theoretically be topped with anything, or nothing at all, and still be called Bruschetta.) Some purists brush the bread with olive oil before toasting, but I prefer a quick spritz of I Can't Believe It's Not Better spray. (It's less messy and less fattening, and has quickly a staple in my kitchen for all kinds of stuff. You'll like it!)



HEIRLOOM TOMATO BRUSCHETTA

4 large tomatoes, assorted heirloom varieties, seeded and chopped
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons finely chopped green onion
2 cloves garlic, minced (or put through a garlic press)
4 tablespoons finely chopped fresh basil
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

1 French baguette bread loaf
Margarine spray or olive oil for bread

Combine tomatoes, cilantro, onion, garlic, basil, olive oil, salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 3 hours to combine flavors.

Cut baguette on the diagonal into 1/4 inch slices. Brush each side lightly with olive oil or spray with margarine spray (preferred). Place on large baking sheet (lined with tinfoil to minimize clean-up) and toast in oven, turning once, until lightly brown on both sides.

Serve tomato mixture on toasted baguette slices.

My Tomato Thumb

I have never been accused of possessing a green thumb, (in fact my house has been known as a place where plants go to die), and all my previous efforts at growing tomatoes having resulted in a paltry, if tasty, harvest of a handful of hard-won fruits, I was totally unprepared for the bounty the five plants I set out this year would yield.

Either I have developed the proverbial tomato thumb or discovered the sweet spot for growing them, in a cleared out sliver of earth, (previously known to neighborhood cats as the biggest little outdoor litter box on the street), between the house and our neighbor's busy driveway. Most likely the latter, since I really didn't do anything except put them in the ground and provide a little fertilizer and lots of water. (And may I say they must thrive on car exhaust.)

Not expecting much, I chose hardy varieties, mixing hybrid and heritage vines, and hoped for the best. I got better. The Green Zebra was the most prolific, followed closely by Early Girl and then Better Boy, but the prize for size (and flavor) has to go the venerable Brandywine, and the medal for sheer beauty to the golden, inexplicably named, Kellogg's Breakfast tomato, which, really can be eaten any time, just so you know. (My thanks to friends George and Cindy Martin at The Tasteful Garden for the links to tomato photos and commentary. Check them out, they're the best.)

For the past few weeks I've been rolling in the glories of too many tomatoes. I've made quantities of tomato sauces and stowed them in the freezer. I've shared tomatoes with family and friends. I've served tomatoes in every imaginable fashion, and searched for new ways to prepare them, making some delicious discoveries along the way. However, one of my favorites remains that tried and true, often overstated but never over-rated, delicacy -- fried green tomatoes.

Like many iconic southern dishes there are probably as many ways of frying green tomatoes as there are cooks who fry them. Some swear by a cornmeal crust, others insist only flour will do. Some use vegetable shortening for frying, others prefer peanut oil, canola oil or even pure bacon grease. I've taken a little of all the best and come up with my own formula. I think a mixture of flour and cornmeal makes the crunchiest crust and a little bacon grease, for flavor, mixed with peanut oil is tops for the frying. I call them Fried Green Tomatoes A La Annie, and they're really, really good.

May we all always have too many tomatoes.


FRIED GREEN TOMATOES A LA ANNIE

5 medium green tomatoes
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup white or yellow cornmeal
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons black pepper
1 cup milk
2 eggs
6 bacon strips
Peanut oil for frying

Cut tomatoes into 1/4-inch-thick slices.

Beat eggs with milk in a shallow bowl.

Combine flour, cornmeal, salt and pepper in another shallow bowl.

Dip tomato slices in the egg mixture, then dredge them in the flour/cornmeal mixture. Dip again, dredge again. Place slices on a baking sheet and chill for a few minutes while you fry the bacon.

Fry the bacon in a large cast iron or other heavy skillet. Remove bacon and set aside to drain.

Add enough peanut oil to the bacon grease to make about 2-inches depth. (Deep enough to cover tomato slices.) Heat on medium high to about 360 degrees, or until fat sputters when flicked with cornmeal. Fry tomatoes in batches, turning once, until golden brown on both sides (about 1 to 2 minutes per side). Drain on paper towels. Serve immediately.

Never one to waste good bacon, I crumble the reserved bacon strips over the top!

Creamed Corn with Leeks and Bacon

Food-wise, I'm of the opinion that there are very few dishes that can't be improved by the addition of bacon; with the possible exception of a few dessert items, and even then I've found some very credible recipes for bacon ice cream, bacon candy, and even bacon cupcakes, although I'm not sure I want to go there.

Let's face it, very few foods have achieved the cult status of the humble strips of pork belly that we've come to love for breakfast, lunch and dinner. There are entire websites devoted to that particular cut of the pig, bacon blogs galore, and more bacon flavored products, some more dubious than others, than you can possibly imagine, or want. There's a bacon chocolate bar, bacon breath mints,

bacon lip balm,

and gummy bacon strips.

Cocktail time? Have yourself a bacon martini.

Or if you really want to go whole hog, pun absolutely intended, check out this link to a heart attack on a platter recipe for bacon cheese roll.

If you want your BLT with the flavor, but not the fat, of the B, try Baconnaise, whose web site proudly proclaims, "everything should taste like bacon." I couldn't agree more.

Although it's hard to improve on the flavor of fresh summer corn, which just may be my favorite "vegetable", adding a little bacon can definitely take it over the top. This recipe for fresh creamed corn with bacon and leeks is one of my summertime specialties, and you should know if I'm going to the trouble of actually cutting corn off the cob, (a messy and often thankless task), it has to be really, really good. There are some cute little devices which claim to make the task easier. This smiley face corn zipper for instance, which works pretty well, but I'm still just as happy using a nice, sharp paring knife. Another option might be using fresh frozen corn. I haven't tried it, but I'm betting it would work just fine in a pinch or when the fresh stuff is out of season. But then, what's the fun in that?


FRESH CREAMED CORN WITH BACON AND LEEKS

6 to 8 ears fresh corn (about 6 cups)
1 1/2 cups milk
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 pound bacon
1 1/2 cups chopped leek (about 2 leeks)

Cut kernels from and scrape ears of corn. (Or use 6 cups fresh frozen corn)

Place half the corn (about 3 cups) in blender or food processor with milk, cornstarch, sugar, salt and pepper. Process until smooth. Set aside.

Cook bacon in a large nonstick or cast-iron skillet until crisp. Remove bacon and drain. Drain drippings leaving about 1 tablespoon in pan.

Add leeks and cook about 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Add pureed corn mixture and the remaining corn to pan. Bring to boil.

Reduce heat and simmer for about 20 minutes until slightly thickened. (If mixture gets too thick before the corn is done add a little more milk.)

Crumble bacon and sprinkle on top before serving. Serves 6. (Unless you like it as much as I do, in which case, it serves 4!)

NOTE: The original version of this recipe came from Cooking Light magazine and calls for 2% milk and only 4 slices of bacon. I've made it using 2% milk and can't tell the difference. However, bacon being bacon, 4 slices just won't do!

Your Cheatin' Brownies

Everybody loves brownies. And perhaps because they're not particularly hard to make, people typically don't want to have to fuss over them very much, more of a bake 'em and go sort of thing. Still, that doesn't mean they can't be an outstanding dessert.


To me the ideal brownie is quick, easy, deadly rich with chocolate, and finished with a slight nut crunch. I've come up with a way to get the brownie I want without having to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, and now you won't have to either.

This is my quick go-to dessert for picnics, potlucks and parties, and it makes a great everyday treat if you're craving a big chocolate fix or just want to pig out. I've even put them in an interesting container -- say a vintage lunch box, old fruitcake tin or plastic beach pail, and given them as a gifts. Either people love them, or they're lying.

It's the Cliff Notes of Brownie Recipes, so easy it's almost like cheating, (maybe it even is), so rich the chocolate oozes out between bites, and totally foolproof unless you burn them. That having been said, it starts out with a box so if anybody asks, you didn't get this recipe from me.


YOUR CHEATIN' BROWNIES

1 1-pound box brownie mix
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 eggs
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
1/2 cup chocolate chips

For best results use a premium brownie mix with a chocolate syrup pouch in the box. I recommend Betty Crocker Hershey's Dark Chocolate brownie mix.

Combine brownie mix with water, oil and eggs according to package directions. Stir in nuts and chocolate chips.

Pour into an 8" square baking pan prepared with baking spray. Bake at 325 degrees for 50 to 55 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out almost clean.

Cool completely. Cut into squares. Dust with cocoa and/or powdered sugar.

If you really want to add a "wow" factor and dress them up, serve them with fresh strawberries and creme fraiche. Elegant, decadent, simply yummy.

New Orleans Shrimp Creole

We make it down to New Orleans every few years, ostensibly for Jazz Fest, but the real reason I go is to eat. And while you'll find some stellar New Orleans dishes at the Festival, (I'm partial to the Crawfish Monica and Cochon de Lait po' boys), one should never travel to the Crescent City without at least one meal (but better two or three) at one of the old-line French Creole restaurants. My favorites are Antoine's, for Filet de truite au vin blanc and Pommes de terre souffles, Arnaud's, for turtle soup and crab cakes, and Galatoire's for oysters en brochette and their sublime Shrimp Creole which is, quite simply, the best in town, any town.

Creole cooking, not to be confused with Cajun cooking, New Orleans' other signature cuisine, initially evolved from French techniques and recipes blended with elements from the culinary traditions of the Spanish, African and Italians who also settled in the city. Creole food is typically milder in flavor than it's Cajun country cousin, and more complicated in preparation, and therefore generally thought of as more refined.

Although both styles of cooking often feature the "holy trinity" of celery, bell peppers and onion as primary ingredients, the Cajuns, who trace their heritage to the Acadian French, (the word Cajun is a corruption of the word Acadian), and settled in the bayou country after their expulsion from Nova Scotia, typically rely on game meats and heavy spices, to create their earthy "country" dishes. The latter cooking style was most notably popularized by Chef Paul Prudhomme, and his New Orleans restaurant K-Paul's is the place to be if you have a hankering for blackened anything.

But if it's a piquant, tomato rich, silky smooth sauce brimming with fresh shrimp you're craving, then sit yourself down to a plate of Galatoire's Shrimp Creole. Can't make it to New Orleans? Then make it yourself. Last time we were there, my husband bought me the Galatoire's Cookbook, and the recipe therein will turn out fine as is. However, even though I thought it was impossible to improve on perfection, I think I have done just that, adding my own tweaks and twists, little adjustments here and there, for what I believe is the perfect, perfect Shrimp Creole. Here it is.


SHRIMP CREOLE

5 large firm, ripe tomatoes
3 tablespoons salted butter
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
1 large sweet onion, diced
1 6-ounce can tomato paste
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (more or less to taste)
1 teaspoon paprika
4 cups shrimp stock (recipe follows)
1 3/4 pounds medium shrimp (25 to 30 count), peeled and de-veined, tails removed
1/4 cup chopped parsley for garnish
Steamed white rice for 6


SHRIMP STOCK

1 3/4 to 2 pounds fresh shrimp shells and tails
1 large sweet onion, quartered
3 celery stalks, coarsely chopped
2 bay leaves
10 to 20 black peppercorns, crushed
1 lemon, halved
1 gallon water
Peel and de-vein shrimp. Reserve shells for stock.

To make stock, place all stock ingredients in a large stockpot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heart to a low boil and simmer for one hour, skimming foam as necessary. Strain the stock and discard the solids.

NOTE: Stock can be made the day before and makes enough for three recipes of Shrimp Creole. I freeze the remainder of the stock in two batches for later use so I don’t have to make it each time I prepare the dish.

Bring about two quarts of water to boil in a large saucepan. Score the bottom of each tomato with a small “x” and blanch them in the water for about a minute or until the skin breaks.
Drain, cool and pull off the skin. Seed and dice. (To make seeding easier I use a grapefruit spoon to scoop out the seeds. A melon baller will work well too.)
Melt the butter in a large pot over high heat. Add the celery, bell peppers, onion and tomatoes and sauté for about 10 minutes, until the vegetables are soft and the tomatoes begin to dissolve.
Reduce heat to medium, Add tomato paste, bay leaves, salt, cayenne pepper and paprika. Simmer for 4 or 5 minutes to mix flavors then add shrimp stock.

Simmer the mixture over medium heart for 30 minutes, until sauce is slightly thickened.

NOTE: Sauce can be made a day before, refrigerated and reheated for the addition of the shrimp.

Add shrimp and simmer for an additional 10 minutes until shrimp are pink and cooked through. (Careful not to overcook or shrimp will be tough and rubbery.)

Garnish with parsley and serve over steamed rice. Serves 6.

My Greens Are Better Than Yours

This is the recipe that started it all, the inspiration for this blog and one of my favorite guilty pleasures -- guilty because although greens are definitely good for you, I'm not sure all that bacon is.

I didn’t fall in love with greens until shortly after I married, when a friend of my husband’s brought greens as his contribution to Thanksgiving dinner. He was from Texas and his greens were steeped in the drippings of freshly fried bacon and topped with the crumbles. Those greens were so good that if the man hadn’t been gay, I might have lost my bearings. As it was, I've had to be content with his recipe.

I serve my greens in a gray/green glazed greens bowl, (I dare you to say it five times real fast.), made by an old friend who happens to be a most excellent potter. A worthy vessel, it provides a splendid backdrop for a dish commonly so plain it needs one. (The greens sort of slip into the finish, and the blush of clay peeping through the glaze echos the crisp red brown of the bacon.) I guarantee you, these greens don’t just look better than yours; they are better than yours.



MY GREENS ARE BETTER THAN YOUR GREENS, GREENS

2 bunches collard greens
1 bunch mustard greens
1 bunch kale
1 bunch chard
1 large onion, chopped
3 large carrots, diced
3 large celery stalks, diced
1/2 pound bacon

1 smoked ham hock (optional)

Most greens we buy today are pre-washed, but you’ll want to wash them anyway, at least once, because the dirty little secret of cooking greens is that they are, well, usually quite dirty. Also you can buy packaged greens that have already been cut up, but I don’t advise it. They’re full of stalks and stems and take as long to pick over as preparing them from scratch. (My Mother always said you could tell a lazy cook by the number of stems in her greens.)

Wash greens and tear into bite size pieces, making sure to remove all stalks, stems and large ribs.

Brown bacon in a large pan or pot. (I use an 8 1/2 quart saucier pan.) Drain bacon and reserve.

Drain about half (or more -- leaving about 3 tablespoons) of the bacon grease from pan and discard. Add chopped vegetables to pan and sauté over medium heat until soft (about 10 to 15 minutes).

Add prepared greens, a few at a time, (the greens cook down quickly, making room for more), until all greens have been added to pot.

Throw in that ham hock (if using), lower heat and braise for 45 minutes to 1 hour, depending on how tender you like them.

Crumble the reserved bacon, add to greens and serve.

Baptist Cheese Straws

I am a rabid fan of community cookbooks, and my very favorite are what I call "church lady cookbooks," those tomes of church supper staples, old and new, that are surely blessed by the savior himself.

The real Queen of Church Lady Cookbooks may well be the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary’s Baptist Dishes Worth Blessing, if only for the photo of the quintessential Baptist church lady on the cover. The table’s set with the best company china and silver goblets, and you just know she’s fantasizing about what she’d serve Jesus if he were to come to dinner. I’m thinking “Amiable Chicken Curry,” (page 81. It just wouldn’t do to serve the Savior pissed off poultry, would it?), with Mrs. Bobby Neese’s “Mayonnaise Quick Bread,” (page 127), Glennis Williams’ “Squash Balls,”(page 116) and Ivy O’Hara’s “7-Up Pound Cake” (page 152) for dessert. And of course for starters she’d serve that most southern of nibbles, cheddar cheese straws. I’ve tried them, and they are seriously good. They won't save your soul, they won't speak in tongues, but I swear you’ll never eat Cheetos again. And, BTW, Methodists like them too, as do all the other Protestants, the Catholics, and quite a few atheists and agnostics as well.


CHURCH LADY CHEESE STRAWS
(Compliments of Mrs. Claude Howe
Baptist Dishes Worth Blessing)

1 pound grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon red cayenne pepper
2 cups all-purpose flour

Place grated cheese and butter in large mixing bowl and allow to soften to room temperature. Cream by hand or with mixer. Sift together flour, salt and cayenne pepper. Gradually add dry ingredients to the butter and cheese. Mix thoroughly.

Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead five or six times. Roll dough out to 1/4 inch thickness and cut into strips, about 1/2 inch wide and four or five inches long.

Place strips on ungreased cookie sheet and bake in preheated 400 degree oven for 10 to 15 minutes, until straws begin to brown around edges. Cool completely. Makes about 12 dozen.