SG Archives: Ciopino

Gallons of Gustatory Goodness



When a man asked God about heaven and hell, God first shows him a land where all the people have a delicious meat soup. But they have spoons longer than their arms, so they go hungry and suffer in hell.

Then God shows the man another place where everyone has the same wonderful soup and same long spoons. But here they use the spoons to feed each other. This is heaven. — Chinese parable

Soup is almost certainly the second oldest cooking method (roasting/grilling being the oldest) and dates at least from the invention of pottery. In fact, it's potentially older than that because it's possible to make soups and stews in animal skins.

Soup is almost certainly the second oldest cooking method.

Although it's unlikely that we have any genetic predilection for soup, we almost certainly have cultural predilections, shared with all other humans, and reaching back at least 10,000 years if soup began with pottery. That's a lot of soup under the spoon.

Given soup's long history, it's not surprising that stories such as the Chinese parable above have grown up around the dish. Here in the West our most popular story is Stone Soup, which is also a parable about sharing. Soup is an obvious metaphor for community with its common pot from which the same goodness flows to all who partake.

I spent this weekend making soup. Literally. The whole weekend. Act One began Friday morning with a shopping trip. Friday afternoon I made ham stock, beef stock, and Beer-braised Short Ribs. Continued Saturday morning when I taught a class on soups and stews making Country Ham and Barley Soup (here’s a similar recipe), Cheddar Chowder, Garlic/Tomato Soup, demonstrated how to make stock, and showed how to make the short ribs while serving the batch I made on Friday.

Act 2 began Saturday afternoon with a trip to the fish market followed by finishing the stock and short ribs I’d begun in the class. Act 3 occurred this morning when I made cioppino for my mother’s birthday dinner. There was a whole lot of soup-making, and sharing, going on.

Cioppino is the San Francisco version bouillabaisse. Traditionally it was made on the fishing boats while out to sea using whatever was in the nets when lunch time rolled around. The only repeated elements from one day to the next were olive oil (lots of it), tomatoes, wine, and sourdough bread. For me cioppino with fresh sourdough bread is what California tastes like. Here's what I did this morning:

Cioppino
Serves 4.

1 onion — diced
1/4 green bell pepper — diced
3 cloves garlic
1/4 c olive oil
1 1/2 c white wine
1 can diced tomatoes, 28 oz.
2 btls clam juice (I wasn't up to making another stock)
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp anchovy
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
1 dz littleneck clams
1/2 lb monkfish — cut into 1" cubes
1/2 lb scrod — cut into 1" cubes
1/2 lb shrimp
1/4 c chopped fresh parsley

Heat olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat, add onions and pepper, and sauté until onions are translucent. Add garlic and cook another minute. Add white wine and reduce to 1/2 cup. Add tomatoes (with juice), clam juice, oregano, tomato paste, anchovy paste, red pepper, and a good dash of salt. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes.

Add clams to soup. When clams open add scrod and monkfish. Cook five minutes. Add shrimp and cook until shrimp and fish are done — 5 to 7 minutes. Add parsley and serve.

Try ciopino with...
Cheddar Cheese Bread
Prosciutto Bread
Key Lime Mousse

Originally published February 26, 2006.

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Insalata Pasta con Fruiti de Mare

Summer Eating



Several years ago in Eugene, Oregon I had a party for all of my office mates and wanted to serve a pasta salad - but I wanted something out of the ordinary. So I gave it some thought and came up with this recipe. As I remember my guests scarfed it down like they hadn't eaten in days. Come to think of it, they ate everything like they hadn't eaten in days. A few years later my I hosted a Cooks Bash in California for my Web cooking buddies and we had a picnic at a winery in Napa and I made this salad again for them. Same deal, the pasta salad simply disappeared.

My guests scarfed it down like they hadn't eaten in days.

The salad is a bit unusual in being dressed with olive oil and lemon juice instead of mayonnaise, but the result is a much lighter salad.

Pasta Salad with Seafood
Serves 4 as a light meal or 6 as a side dish.

16 oz. farfalle or other pasta
1/2 c olive oil — divided
1 yellow bell pepper — diced
12 - 16 cherry tomatoes — cut in half
6 tbsp lemon juice
4 oz. boiled shrimp
4 oz. smoked salmon — broken into chunks
4 oz. crab meat
4 tbsp finely chopped fresh dill
Salt and pepper

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add 3 tablespoons of olive oil*. Cook pasta according to package directions. Drain pasta and rinse with cold water.

Transfer pasta to a large mixing bowl, add all other ingredients except tomatoes, and mix well. Chill for at least 2 hours. Add tomatoes just before serving.

Taste and adjust seasonings. Serve.

*Note: Adding oil to the water helps keep the pasta from sticking together.

Try this Pasta Salad with...
Soufflé Provençal
Chicken Saltimbocca
Lemon Chiffon Pie

Elise's Mom's Macaroni Salad
Kalyn's Macaroni Salad with Tomatoes, Basil, & Feta

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | salad | pasta | seafood

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SG Archives: Smoked Salmonwith Pineapple Salsa

If You've Got 'em, Smoke 'em



As a Southerner, cooking meats in smoke is an important part of my culinary heritage. And the truest example of this is meat cooked low and slow in smoke: barbeque.

We barbequers have been known to argue for hours over the best wood to use in smoking different kinds and cuts of meat so the idea of tea-smoked meat intrigued me. In fact, I've been meaning to try it for quite some time. So I did and I wasn't impressed. In revisiting this recipe I switched to alder wood — much better.

The pineapple flavors were a wonderful counterpoint to the salmon and so I plan to do this again.

I bought a salmon filet, marinated it in a pineapple/rum mixture for about six hours, and then served it topped with a pineapple salsa. To smoke it I used my Cameron Stove-Top Smoker. As you can see, though, it looked gorgeous. And the pineapple flavors were a wonderful counterpoint to the salmon and so I plan to do this again.

Smoked Salmon with Pineapple Salsa
Serves 4.

2 ea 12 - 16 oz salmon steaks (or thick sections of filets)
Marinade:
1/2 c unsweetened pineapple juice
1/2 c olive oil
1/3 c rum
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp fresh ginger — grated
2 cloves garlic — crushed
1 tsp ground black pepper
salt
Salsa:
1/2 c diced fresh pineapple — small dice
1/4 c diced green bell pepper — small dice
1/4 c diced read onion — small dice
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tbsp pineapple juice
hot sauce to taste
salt to taste

Mix all marinade ingredients in a one qt zipper bag. Add salmon and marinate in refrigerator six to eight hours. Mix all salsa ingredients together and allow flavors to meld at room temperature for at least an hour. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Add sawdust to the bottom of your smoker and place it over medium-high heat until it begins to smoke. Add salmon, reduce heat to medium, and cover tightly. Cook 15 minutes. Turn off heat and allow to cook another five minutes. Plate and top generously with salsa.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | seafood | salmon | main dish

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Jerked Salmon with Dill Mayonnaise

The Emulsion Jinx



I taught a class on fish and herbs a couple of weeks ago out at Erin's Meadow Herb Farm. I made a shrimp Ceviche, Trout Meuniere with Tarragon Sauce, and Grilled Salmon with Dill Mayonnaise. The Ceviche went off without a hitch, the trout was perfect, and the Dill Mayonnaise broke - twice.

I'm not a stranger to mayonnaise, I make it two or three times a year without a problem, but this was the second time I've had it fail in a class. The trick to making mayo is adding the oil slowly enough to create an emulsion with the egg yolk and I've got an edge on that. I have a mini food processor that has a reservoir in the top with a couple of holes in it that drizzle the oil in at exactly the right speed. Despite this the mayonnaise broke, so I started over with a fresh egg yolk to which I slowly added the original mayonnaise. This time it was emulsifying beautifully, and then broke again. I gave up and used store-bought mayo to which I added the minced dill.

I'm not a stranger to mayonnaise, I make it two or three times a year without a problem.

A couple of days later I tried again. No problem. The mayonnaise came together exactly as expected. I still have no idea what went wrong at the class. The salmon was fine with the commercial mayo, but was far better with the homemade stuff

Jerked Salmon with Dill Mayonnaise
Serves 4.

2 lbs salmon fillets - about 3/4" thick
2 tbsp Jerk seasoning*
2 tbsp olive oil
1 egg yolk
4 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup canola oil
3 tbsp minced fresh dill

Pour 2 tablespoons of lemon juice in a plate and salmon filets flesh-side down in the juice. Marinate for 1 hour.

Briefly process the egg yolk, lemon juice, and salt in a blender or mini food processor. Gradually add the oil beginning at a drop or two at a time. As the mixture begins to thicken you can add the oil slightly more quickly. When the mayonnaise is complete, add the dill and process briefly to mix.

Brush both sides of filets with olive oil and sprinkle flesh-side lightly with jerk seasoning.

Build a medium fire on one side of your grill. Cook fish, flesh-side down, over direct heat for about 2 minutes. Shift filets off of direct and continue cooking until the edges of the filets are opaque - 3 to 4 minutes depending on the thickness of the fish. Turn the salmon over and cook another 3 to 4 minutes. Serve topped with mayonnaise.

Try Jerked Salmon with...
Potatoes Parmigiano
Beets Dijonaise: The Beet Goes On
Buttermilk/Pineapple Sherbet: The Good Old Days

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | main dish | salmon | seafood | grilling

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Paisano: Jerked Shrimp

Being a Jerk



I spent two years in Eugene, Oregon — within 100 miles of the Pacific coast — and there was only one place in town where I could buy genuinely fresh fish, everywhere else it was frozen or previously frozen. But at least there was a place. I also spent three years in Nashua, New Hampshire, which was also within 100 miles of the coast. I never found fresh fish in Nashua. Then I spent two years in Sacramento, California. Yup, 100 miles from the coast and, yup, no fresh fish that I could find.

But here in Knoxville, Tennessee — almost 1000 miles from the nearest coast — I can buy fresh fish. Although the fish market does sell some frozen fish, mostly the seafood is fresh and straight from the Gulf of Mexico. They send a truck down to Mobile, Alabama twice a week to buy straight off the boats and haul it back up here. They opened a new store near me recently and, because I was teaching a class on cooking fish, I stopped in to see what they had.

Here in Knoxville, Tennessee — almost 1000 miles from the nearest coast — I can buy fresh fish.

I planned on concentrating on techniques so the menu I posted began with broiled tilapia with arugula pesto, then salmon in parchment, followed by poached snapper with a lemon cream sauce, and lastly grilled tuna with Romesco. But the store also had some gorgeous jumbo shrimp — so I bought a couple of pounds.

The menu posted for the class said nothing about shrimp, but in keeping with the philosophy of, "give them more than they expect" I always like to toss in an appetizer that I can feed the class almost immediately. In this case I decided to give them jerked shrimp as a starter. And while I was planning on jerking some shrimp I decided to make a jerk of, I mean for, myself.

Jerked Shrimp
Serves 4 as a main course.

1 1/2 lb jumbo shrimp — shelled
1 lg lime — juiced (2 - 3 tbsp)
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tsp Herbes de Provence
Seasoning:
3 tbsp hot paprika
3 tbsp garlic powder
3 tsp ground allspice
1 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
3/4 tsp cayenne pepper (more or less, depending on preferred spice level)
1 tbsp kosher salt
3/4 tsp freshly ground pepper

Thoroughly mix all seasoning ingredients. You'll have more than you need, but it keeps well.

Place shrimp in a large zippered plastic bag. Add lime juice and 1 1/2 tablespoons of seasoning. Toss to mix and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and not more than 2.

Heat a skillet over medium high heat. Add butter and swirl to melt. Dump shrimp and juice into skillet and add Herbes de Provence. Cook about 1 1/2 minutes per side. Serve immediately.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | paisano | shrimp | seafood | main dish

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Paisano: Yogurt/Sumac Chicken

Strange Spice



I've no doubt given the impression that when I get together with the Paisano all we do is cook, but that's not true, sometimes we let other people cook.

I was attending a conference in San Francisco back in 1993 and gave Paisano a call in case he was going to be in the area. He was and invited me to a party. Microsoft happened to be having a party that same night for conference attendees, but I'd been to those parties before - free beer, wine, unbelievably bad pizza, and drunken geeks. It was an easy choice to make. The party was in Berkley but that and directions were all the old man would tell me.

One particular chicken dish caught my attention with a flavor I simply couldn't place

I'd rented a car because I was planning a side trip down to Monterrey over the weekend so around 7:00 I headed over the bridge to Berkley and after a couple of wrong turns I found the place.

Aside from a couple of other Euro-types like Paisano and myself, the rest of the guests (and the hosts) were middle-eastern. My friend knew I'd lived in Egypt for a year and thought I'd fit right in and, in fact, I did. There were people there from Iran, Egypt, Lebanon, Turkey, and I don’t know where else. They were all either students, grad students, or professors at UCB and the party was one in series that had been taking place every month or two for six years.

The food was awesome, but one particular chicken dish caught my attention with a flavor I simply couldn't place. So I started asking around and eventually found a young woman named FohzAn. It turned out the flavor was sumac, a deep red powder made from the sumac tree's berries. It's lemony in flavor, but instead of sour it seems slightly musty to me, which is what threw me. I also learned the chicken had been marinated in a mixture of yogurt, garlic, and sumac. I didn't get a recipe, though, and the dish eventually slipped my mind. Then I received a review copy of Zov: Recipes and Memories from the Heart by Zov Karamardian and flipping through it I found a recipe that took me back to that evening in Berkley. Zov's version is based on an Indian recipe, but it's close to what I remember, and note, I've tweaked the recipe a bit.

Sumac-Coated Chicken Kebab
Serves 4.
(Adpated from Zov: Recipes and Memories from the Heart)
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut into 1"x1" pieces
1/2 cup yogurt
1/4 cup finely-chopped mint
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2 Tbsp. paprika
2 Tbsp. sumac
3 cloves crushed garlic
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp. nutmeg

Thoroughly combine all ingredients in a zippered storage bag and marinate in the refrigerator for 24 hours, turning and remixing 4 to 6 times while marinating.

Build a medium hot fire in your grill. Divide chicken pieces among 4 skewers. (Note: I can no longer use a grill, so I used my grill pan over medium-high heat.)

Grill kebabs for about 3 minutes per side over a fire or 5 minutes per side on a grill pan for a total of 12 or 20 minutes respectively. Serve garnished with mint chiffonade and lemon wedges. I served them on couscous with a salad on the side.

I'll be posting a review of Zov's book in the near future (after I've had time to check out a few more recipes), but I can tell you now that she has a passion for food and cooking that equals my own -- and her book is gorgeous.

Paisano is a fictional character created for my column on Gather.com and the events related here are a mixture of truth and fiction, The food, however, is real.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | seafood | shrimp | jerk

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Review: Hawaiian Yellowtailfrom Kona Blue

Unadulterated Delight



A week or so ago I got an email from someone commenting on SG and wondering if I was interested in receiving some free fish: "I’d be happy to send you Kona Kampachi and invite you to prepare it any way you like. If you’d like to share about the fish with your readers, great, but if not, don’t worry about it – it’s completely up to you." I happen to be a great believer in getting free stuff I'm interested in with no strings attached, so after checking out Kona Blue's Web site I told her to send it along. I'd try it and might or might not write about it and I might or might not be positive about the experience.

I'm here to say, "Wow!"

Yesterday (as I write this) I received a large, heavy package from the company. I was expecting it having received notification that it had been picked up by Fed-Ex two days earlier. I opened the box and found a huge plastic bag. I opened the bag and found an aluminized thermal blanket. I opened the blanket and found about a dozen frozen freezer packs. I dug through them and found a smaller plastic bag. I opened it and found two fresh (not frozen) fillets weighing about a pound each wrapped in plastic. I stuck my nose in the bag and sniffed — pure ocean. Supper had arrived.

Kona Blue raises Hawaiian Yellowtail (also known as Almaco Jack and trademarked as Kona Kampachi) commercially in deep-water farms near Hawaii. The company claims their methods are sustainable and minimize environmental impact. I read about this type of ocean farming several years ago and from what I recall, if done properly it can meet both claims.

The fish I received had been harvested on Sunday. It then went into an iced brine which killed it. On Tuesday it was gutted, cleaned, and shipped. Kona only harvests enough fish at a time to serve that week's orders so the fish is always as fresh as they can make it, but most of their sales are wholesale and for whole fish to restaurants. The company's retail presence is limited.

It's not cheap. The two fillets I received retail for $17.00 each and shipping is another $33.00. Nevertheless, I could have easily fed six for that $67.00, about the cost of a good steak dinner at home. And as I said above, "Wow!" This was certainly in the top 10 of fish I've ever eaten. They say it's sushi grade so I tried a bit raw and it certainly is. But I elected to cook it.

I cut a fillet into thirds and brushed two of the thirds with olive oil, sprinkled sweet Spanish paprika on them along with a bit of salt, and then broiled it until barely cooked through. It was like eating butter. My plan had been to eat only one third and use the other cooked third in a salad for lunch today. Not possible. The fish was just too good and I ate it last night as well. I still have the third third and will do something with it this evening.

I also understand why the company was so laissez faire about whether I wrote them up or not. They knew that no real foodie could resist singing the praises of this fish once he or she had tasted it. It really gripes me to be so predictable, and I wish I could think of something negative to say to at least give the appearance objectivity, but the truth is saying something negative wouldn't be objective. The fish is just that good.

Hmmm, perhaps I should have held out for a press junket to Hawaii...

Technorati: Food | review | kevin d weeks | seriously good | seafood | hawaiian yellowtail | Kona+Kampachi

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Clam Chowder

It's Chowdah, Baby



If you've read The Once and Future King by T.H. White, a retelling of the Authurian legend, you may recall the Questing Beast. In White's tale the beast was something quested after, not something that went on quests. But I am culinary Questing Beast and in my case I am the pursuer and not the pursued.

In 1995 I began crisscrossing the country, coast-to-coast, spending time in the Pacific Northwest, New England, the Mid-Atlantic, and central California. As a long-time fan of clam chowder I thought these serendipitous, job-related journeys to the coasts would be an exceptional opportunity to find the perfect clam chowder. Specifically, a perfect New England Clam Chowder was the dish I avidly sought.

I failed.

The fragrant aromas of clam juice and milk mingling together still evoke not only the dish itself but the whole experience...

In Serious Pig, John Thorne writes:

"That time lingers in my mind as 'the chowder summer.' It was the start of my life-long love affair with the dish. The fragrant aromas of clam juice and milk mingling together still evoke not only the dish itself but the whole experience: the driftwood I had carried up from the beach and sawn myself, now crackling in the fireplace; the chowder full of clams I had just dug, cleaned, and prepared, and potatoes I had carried back three miles from the store, heating in the big battered pot on the propane stove."

I sought a "chowder summer" or fall, winter, spring. I knew what the perfect chowder would be like and I thought it could be found. Alas, no. The best chowder in Oregon was far too thick. The best in New England was far too thin. And all the others I tried failed in both flavor and consistency. Nevertheless, I learned a lot about what I sought in the quest itself.

The perfect clam chowder, in my mind, tastes more of clams than dairy. It has distinctive notes of pork, but these notes are background. It should be distinctively salty — recalling the sea. Freshly ground black pepper should enliven the flavor. The potatoes should contribute a slightly sweet note and a clear connection to the land. The consistency should about the same as heavy cream (not gravy), but with a less fatty mouth feel.

I still haven’t found perfection, but I come closer. For instance, someone recommended thickening the chowder with ground oyster crackers. Brilliant! The ground crackers add body without changing the consistency (it's still a soup instead of gravy, which using a roux gives you). Bacon (with it's slightly smoky component) is better than fat back. Use lots of clam juice. And choose small waxy potatoes for a slightly sweet note and something to actually chew on.

So here's what I made most recently:

New England Clam Chowder
Serves 6.

5 lb. mahogany clams, scrubbed
2 cups potatoes cut into 1/2" cubes and cooked al dente
4 strips lightly-smoked bacon
1 sm. onion, diced
2 8 oz. jars clam juice
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
1 tsp. anchovy paste
1 1/2 cups ground oyster crackers (or saltines), ground to powder
Salt and pepper to taste

Cook bacon in a soup pot over medium heat until slightly crisp. Drain bacon on paper towels. Roughly chop.

Cook onions in bacon grease until they begin to brown. Add one jar of clam juice and deglaze pot. Add the rest of the clam juice, cream, milk, and anchovy paste. Bring to a simmer.

Add clams and simmer until they open. Remove clams from broth with a slotted spoon and extract meat.

Add potatoes to pot and simmer for five minutes to warm through. Add clams, ground crackers, and salt and pepper and cook five minutes more. Serve.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | soup | chowder| seafood | clams

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Barbequed Shrimp

Misnomer



If there ever was a bad idea it would be barbequing shrimp. Shrimp are a delicate meat that will overcook in 15 seconds. Barbeque, on the other hand, is the application of smoke and low heat for a long time. The closest you could get to actually barbequing shrimp is blowing cigar smoke at them for an hour or two — which probably wouldn't taste particularly good and would be boring. Nevertheless, Cajun barbequed shrimp are delicious: they just aren't really barbequed.

They're also Mediterranean.

When I tell folks I'm a chef the standard question is, "What's your favorite food?" To which my answer is, "Which is your favorite child?" I love food in general, but what they're really asking is what do I cook at home. To that my answer is Mediterranean cuisine, which elicits the next query among folks who know food, "What do you call Mediterranean?"

I then wax rhapsodic about rosemary and thyme, pasta and fish, olive oil and lemon. I talk about how the common ingredients are treated differently on the northern (European) and southern (African) coasts. And if the questioner is perspicacious I end up in New Orleans and the Caribbean.

If you think about it these cuisines bear a great resemblance to (and were strongly influenced by) southern European and African cuisines. Although Caribbean and Cajun/Creole food tends to include the most distinctive New World ingredient, capsicum peppers, the other ingredients and the cooking techniques definitely show the Old World roots.

So barbequed shrimp, which are sautéed in butter with onions, peppers, and seasoned with thyme, garlic, and assorted ground peppers are, to my mind, essentially Mediterranean in character. And they're certainly not barbequed.

I shelled and seasoned some shrimp with Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning and some dried thyme and let them sit for about an hour. Next I sautéed the shrimp until not-quite done in a lot of butter and spooned them out onto a plate, leaving the butter behind.

Diced onions and green bell peppers went into the pan until translucent, then a clove of minced garlic. I finished the dish by adding a bit of white wine and some clam juice which I reduced a bit before stirring in a tad of arrowroot for thickening and then returning the shrimp to finish cooking along with a healthy dash of Tobasco sauce..

I served the shrimp on a bed of Basmati rice spiked with more of the Chachere seasoning, Very good — and spicy.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | barbequed shrimp | shrimp | seafood | cajun-creole

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Shrimp Curry

Mellow Yellow



I don't know why I don't cook with curry powder more often. I'm love the flavor and it's a surprisingly flexible seasoning that can even work in desserts. Perhaps it's because the odor can linger for a day or two and smells far better in the evening when you're hungry than in the morning when you've just gotten up. Or perhaps it's because anytime you use it it's an in-your-face flavor. But for whatever reason it's not a regular component of my cooking.

Last weekend I had lunch with my parents and my mother made a quick shrimp and crab curry that I really liked. In fact, it was so quick and easy I had to make it myself a few days later just to fix the idea in my mind.

You could serve this with the usual rice, but my mother served it in puff pastry shells and they contributed a lot to the flavor and added a touch of elegance to the meal.

Shrimp Curry
Serves 4.

1/2 lb cooked salad shrimp
1/2 c canned crab
1/2 ea md. onion, minced
2 c coconut milk
4 ea scallions, cut into short lengths
3 tbsp flour
3 tbsp butter
1/2 ea lemon, juiced
salt to taste
Madras curry powder to taste

Cook four puff pastry shells according to package.

Melt butter in a sauce pan over medium low heat, add onion and cook until translucent. Add flour and about a tablespoon of curry powder and cook, stirring constantly, for about three minutes. Add coconut milk and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until sauce thickens. Add lemon juice, shrimp, crab, some of the crab juice, about half the scallions, and salt. Taste and adjust seasonings. Spoon into pastry shells and garnish with remaining scallions.

There's no need to use lump crab, it's best if the crab is evenly distributed throughout more as a flavoring than an ingredient.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin weeks | seriously good | shrimp | currry | shrimp+curry | seafood

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Shrimp & Grits

Low-country Luscious



The group I refer to as my "cooking buddies" has been getting together every other year since 1994 for a Cooks' Bash. The first was held in Charleston, South Carolina where I had my first sushi and, to everyone's great amusement, wasabi. I still haven't lived down The Wasabi Event.

In addition to sushi, I had the pleasure of introducing a friend from the Pacific Northwest to a Southern breakfast of eggs, grits, country ham, and biscuits. One night we had a Low Country clambake which mostly involved oysters and Frogmort Stew. The traditional cuisine is similar to Creole cooking, heavy on fish, rice, potent spices, and the Trinity of onion, celery, and bell pepper.

I had the pleasure of introducing a friend from the Pacific Northwest to a Southern breakfast of eggs, grits, country ham, and biscuits.

Shrimp plays a particularly big roll, with Charleston Receipts offering dishes such as Breakfast Shrimp, half a dozen shrimp pies, and Shrimp Stuffed in Bell Peppers. Oddly enough, the shrimp dish I think of as most typically Low Country doesn't appear: Shrimp and Grits. This causes me to wonder if, despite the dish's fame, it's a relatively recent invention.

There's a restaurant here in Knoxville, Chesapeake's, that sometimes offers a particularly good version as a special. I've been meaning to make it myself for quite awhile, but it wasn't until last week, when the local paper posted a recipe that looked good, that I finally got around to doing so. The published recipe is by Louis Osteen and he serves it at Louis's at Pawleys on Pawleys Island. I tweaked the recipe to meet my needs, but also because the amount of liquid called for seemed excessive and would have more resembled a thick shrimp soup than shrimp smothered in a sauce.

I also, completely ignored the recipe for grits because it called for quick grits, but again required too much liquid. I suspect these are typos in the recipe. Instead, I did use quick grits, but I followed the package directions to make 2 cups and added about 3 tablespoons of butter.

Shrimp for Shrimp & Grits
Adapted from the Knoxville News Sentinel.
Serves 4.

1 lb medium shrimp — peeled
3 tbsp butter
4 slices smoked bacon
2/3 c chopped onions
1/4 c chopped celery
1/4 c chopped green bell pepper
2 tsp minced garlic
1/4 tsp dried thyme or 1 sprig fresh
1 bay leaf
1/3 c white wine or vermouth
3 tbsp flour
2 c clam juice (shrimp stock is better if you have it)
2 tbsp tomato paste
1/2 c heavy cream
hot sauce to taste
salt and pepper to taste

Make the grits.

In a non stick skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat and cook shrimp for about 2 minutes per side. Set aside, the shrimp should be slightly under-cooked.

In a large sauté pan cook the bacon until crisp over medium heat. Drain bacon but reserve grease in pan. Add onions, celery, and pepper and sau té until softened. Add garlic, thyme, and bay and cook 1 minute more. Increase heat to high, add white wine, and cook until evaporated. Reduce heat to medium and sprinkle with flour, mix thoroughly and cook, stirring frequently with a spatula for 3 minutes and scraping the bottom to prevent burning. Add clam juice and tomato paste and whisk vigorously to avoid lumps. Bring to a simmer and stir in cream. Add salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste. Cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened. Add shrimp and cook another 2 minutes. Serve spooned over grits.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin weeks | seriously good | shrimp and grits | shrimp | seafood | low country

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