I am addicted to Greek yogurt.  But man-oh-Friday, is it ever an expensive habit.  I was buying cases of it through our local health food co-operative at a price that -while lower than grocery stores- was still painful to pay.  I needed a less expensive way to feed my habit and I found it.

Googling ‘homemade Greek yogurt’ yields a bunch of folks, bless ‘em all, who tell you the same thing.  Strain your yogurt and ‘voila!’ it’s Greek yogurt.  Okie dokie.  Easy enough.  So if you want a super fast homemade Greek yogurt, just strain yourself a quart of yogurt.  And that’s good in a pinch, but when you’re talking volume, that can still get expensive.  So.  Take it back one step further and make your own yogurt.  This is just as exciting from a stick-it-to-the-man viewpoint as homemade buttermilk. It’s not hard people.  Don’t fear the yogurt.

Unless you’ve been in a cave you’re probably at least minimally acquainted with the health benefits of yogurt by this point; the live and active cultures in the yogurt are like a magic bullet for intestinal health.* But don’t forget the calcium, magnesium, potassium, Vitamins B2 and B12 and protein.  Those are pretty handy to overall health, too.

*I’m sorry if you just lost your appetite reading the words ‘intestinal health’.  In my defense, as the mother of five boys ages twelve and under, I thought that was pretty restrained of me.  I could’ve said “It helps you poop regularly.”  Oh my gosh.  I’ve lost all sense of propriety. I need to hang out with girls more often.

Because I love you bigger than the bay, today’s post is a three-fer.  You get the recipe for Greek Yogurt made from scratch, but in the process, you also learn how to make ‘regular’ yogurt.  And you also get my favorite thing to do with Greek yogurt.  (Other than eating it straight with honey, making frozen yogurt, using it for dill dip, using it in place of sour cream, or turning it into tartar sauce…) Cucumber Yogurt Salsa.  This salsa is similar to a raita (an Indian and Pakistani condiment made to cool the palate) but it is made without what I think are key components of a honest-to-goodness raita (chiles, cumin, et al.) The red onion gives it the flavor punch I crave, but the dill and cucumber keep it cool and refreshing.  This is a crucial component to the Second to Naanwich (more information on the mythical Naanwich is here.)

I put Cucumber Yogurt Salsa on all sorts of things; burgers, sandwiches, vegetable sticks, spoons… Let your imagination run wild.  This is some good stuff.

So come on.  Make yourself some yogurt, I want y’all around for a while.  I like you.

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Homeade Greek Yogurt (or regular yogurt)

Yield: About 4 cups of Greek yogurt

Ingredients:

• 2 quarts whole, 2% or 1% milkfat milk
• 4 Tablespoons yogurt with live and active cultures (store bought or less than 36 hour old homemade yogurt)

Heat the milk in a saucepan to 180°F.  If you don’t have a thermometer, don’t sweat it.  You can watch the milk.  When it gets lots of little bubbles around the edge but before it boils, you’re good to go.  It’ll look like this.

And if you happen to get a little warmer than that, don’t worry.  See this?

No one from the yogurt police came to have words with me.  My yogurt turned out just fine.  The important part is waiting for the milk to cool to the right temperature before adding the yogurt.  That nice lukewarm temperature encourages the beneficial bacteria to get cuddly and reproduce.  Anything too hot kills them.  So…

Cover the pan and cool to about 116°F.  Again, don’t panic if a thermometer isn’t handy.  Simply drip a couple drops of the milk on the inside of your wrist.  If it feels pleasant and slightly warmer than body temperature without feeling hot or uncomfortable you can proceed.  Remove about 2 cups of the warm milk to a small bowl and whisk in the yogurt until evenly combined.  Whisk that back into the pan of milk.  Pour into jars or a bowl.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap or a lid and place in a warm dry place at least six to eight hours or until thickened, overnight if necessary.  A good place for this is an oven that is off but has the interior light on. If you stop at this point, you have regular yogurt.  Simply refrigerate at this point if that’s what you want.

To make Greek yogurt,  place the yogurt in the refrigerator for four hours to firm it a little further and allow some of the whey to separate.  After four hours, line a colander with fine mesh cheesecloth or a clean tea towel.  Pour the yogurt into the colander.  You can either gather the corners of the towel and tie it before hanging it over your sink for 5 hours like this.

Or you can place the colander over a bowl and place in the refrigerator overnight to drain.

After draining to desired consistency, turn into a bowl.

Cover tightly and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cucumber Yogurt Salsa (Raita)

Ingredients:

• 2 cups Greek yogurt
• 1 medium sized cucumber, peeled and diced into small cubes
• 1/2 of a small red onion, peeled and diced into small cubes
• 2 Tablespoons lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon dried dill weed or 1 Tablespoon chopped fresh dill
• 1 clove of garlic, peeled and minced
• salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Stir all ingredients together in a bowl.  It is preferable to cover tightly and refrigerate for at least an hour before serving, but this can be eaten immediately.

These muffins won’t win any beauty contests.  They’re not the prettiest muffins on the block.  They have a muffin face only a mother could love.  But man-oh- man, they’re delicious.  Let me break it down for you…

1. They have bacon.  That alone should be enough to convince you.
2. They have Swiss cheese both in them and toasted on top of them.  If the bacon didn’t do it, the Swiss should.
3. They have rye.  Rye?  Because it’s delicious.  That’s rye.  (Hi, Dad.  Thanks for the line.)

Any of those ingredients alone would be enough to make me dive mouth first into a muffin, but putting them together?  Oh my.  Oh me.  It’s enough to drive a girl crazy with food lust.  The salty, smoky bacon, pungent Swiss cheese (nothing neutral here) and sharp Rye flavors are all enhanced by a subtle presence of onion.  It’s the ultimate deli experience encapsulated in one lovely (in a ugly duckling to swan sort of way) muffin.

Get in my belly!

What can you serve with these muffins?  Soup, salad, or nothing at all.  While they make a wonderful companion to creamy and brothy soups, or dinner salads, they stand alone as a hearty snack or breakfast, too.  They store well, wrapped, in the refrigerator and I would imagine they freeze well, too.  There is a disclaimer, though; we’ve never had a batch last long enough to freeze.  Mainly they vaporize within a day.

In the interest of science, though, I wrapped and hid three muffins in the back of the refrigerator for four days.  Okay, the truth is I put three muffins in the fridge and ate one the next day.  On the second day I ate another one.  On the third day, my son broke his arm.  On the fourth day, I ate that last one.  It was still marvelous.  It was, as I said, a highly scientific process.

One more look before we make them?  Certainly.

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Bacon and Swiss Rye Muffins

Adapted from King Arthur Flour’s Ham-and-Cheese Rye Muffins

Ingredients:

• 2 cups (7 1/2 ounces) whole rye flour (also known as pumpernickel flour)
• 3/4 cup (3 1/8 ounces) high-gluten flour (also known as bread flour)
• 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon Kosher salt
• 3/4 teaspoon granulated onion
• 1 1/2 cups Swiss cheese, grated and divided
• 1 large egg
• 1 1/2 cups (12 fluid ounces) buttermilk (or 1 1/2 teaspoons cider vinegar in a measuring cup topped with enough milk to reach 1 1/2 cups)
• 1/2 cup (4 ounces by weight) melted unsalted butter
• 1/2 pound of bacon, sliced into thin strips and then cooked until crispy and drained on paper towels

Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Generously grease a muffin tin or line with papers that are sprayed with non-stick cooking spray.  This may seem like overkill, but the cheese likes to stick.  Greasing the papers or the tins will ensure that you don’t have to gnaw crispy cheese bits from paper or a pan.  I’ve done it.  Trust me.  In a big mixing bowl, whisk together the rye flour, high-gluten flour,  baking powder and soda, salt and granulated onion.  Toss in 1 1/4 cups of the grated Swiss cheese to ensure it’s coated with flour.

Whisk together the egg, buttermilk and melted butter in a separate bowl or large measuring cup.  Pour into the flour mixture all at once and stir until it is evenly moist.  Do not overmix.  Gently stir in the crisp bacon.

Scoop the batter into the prepared pan.  Since whole grain muffins do not rise as much as their non-whole grain counterparts, you can fill these tins or papers fairly full.  You should get 12 muffins out of this batter.

Evenly divide the remaining 1/4 cup of Swiss cheese between the tops of the muffins and put the pan in the oven.  Bake 25 minutes or until the cheese on top is toasty and deep golden brown and the muffins test done.  (To test muffins, insert a skewer or toothpick into the center.  If it comes out clean- with perhaps a little oil from the cheese or bacon but no clumps of batter- the muffins are done.)

Allow the muffins to cool in the pan for 5 minutes then turn them out on a rack to continue cooling.  Or just eliminate that step and eat them immediately.  I won’t tell.

Ah the potato.  God’s perfect tuber.  I am eternally grateful to my Dad for selflessly showing me the delicious potato skin path through life.   Baked potatoes topped with butter, salt and pepper are a wondrous thing but they’re not the only thing baked potatoes can do.  Loaded Baked Potato Soup (shameless self-promotion alert), our family favorite baked potato bar, and twice-baked potatoes are all stupendous.  But the apotheosis of potato preparations, the be-all-and-end-all of potato eatery is the baked potato skin.  Fresh from the oven, crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside, seasoned and cheese laden, the baked potato skin is what every little spud aspires to become.   Can you imagine anything more perfect than this?

Well, okay.  How about anything more perfect than this?

Every time I see a plate of 12 dinky potato skins for $6.99 in a restaurant*  I want to jump on the table and yell, “I can make four times that amount with four times the toppings for that same price!  Highway robbers!”

*You know, on those 2 nights a year we eat in a restaurant.  Maybe The Evil Genius would take me out more frequently if I stopped jumping on tables and haranguing the staff.

This is truly a wallet-friendly party food.  Out of the same batch of baked potatoes that you got your Loaded Baked Potato Soup you can get these stupendous Baked Potato Skins.  Let me lay out the plan for you.

• Night 1: Bake 12 potatoes along with whatever number baked potatoes you can eat with dinner.  Cool the 12 extra potatoes on the rack while you eat your dinner potatoes.
• Night 2: Hollow out the 12 cold potatoes as directed in the recipe below.  Use the potato ‘guts’ to make Loaded Baked Potato Soup.  Place your potato shells on a rimmed baking sheet, cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 2 days.  If it’s going to go beyond that, you can pop the shells into the freezer.  When they’re frozen solid, transfer to a zipper top bag and keep frozen for up to one month before using.
• Night 3 (or 4, 5, etc…): Make your Baked Potato Skins and accept the praise and adoration lavished on you for serving such a delicious and festive food.

And, hey!  Sunday is the Super Bowl and the Olympic Games start next week.  This is hard-core finger food time, people.  Whether you’re attending a party, hosting a party or attempting to become one with your couch, you need to make these.  They’re guaranteed to win friends and influence people.  At least it wins and influences me.

Hey there, handsome...

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Baked Potato Skins

Ingredients:

• 12 baked potatoes, cooled to room temperature
• 2-3 cups grated cheese (I prefer extra sharp Cheddar, but you can also use Monterey Jack, Colby, Pepper Jack or any combination of those cheeses.)
• 1/2 pound of bacon
• 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil
• salt and pepper to taste
• a batch of Creamy Onion Topping (full post here, or printer friendly version here.)
• additional thinly sliced green onions for topping

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Cut each baked potato into quarters, taking care to keep the skin as intact as possible. But don’t just cut them willy-nilly.  Take  a second to consider your potato.  Cut in half first.

Now look at your halves.  See how potatoes are generally oval shaped?  You want to cut those halves in half again, but cut them so that you’re cutting it through the longest angle of the oval so that your quarters will be relatively stable on the pan when you lay them down.  That would be front to back on the left potato half or side to side on the right potato half.

Use a regular soup spoon to carefully scrape most of the insides out of each potato quarter into a large bowl, leaving behind a shell of about 1/4 to 1/2 of an inch.

I know some folks take more of the potato out of the shell, but I like my potato skins a bit more substantial.  Feel free to cut back on the amount of potato, just be sure to keep a shell intact or your potato skin will go floppy.  Not so appetizing sounding, is it?

When you have eviscerated all your potatoes divide your potato shells between two rimmed baking sheets.  Use the potato ‘guts’ to make baked potato soup or tightly wrap with plastic wrap, refrigerate and make soup within the next three days.

Drizzle the extra virgin olive oil evenly over the potato shells using about two tablespoons per baking sheet.  Sprinkle salt and pepper over the potato shells to taste.  Remember that potatoes love salt and pepper, so don’t skimp here.

Place sheets in the top third of your preheated oven.  Set timer for 10 minutes.

While the potato shells are toasting, turn your attention to the bacon.  Slice the bacon into 1/2-inch thick strips and slide into a large skillet over medium heat.

Cook until the bacon just begins to turn crisp.  Transfer to a paper towel lined plate to drain.

Move the drained bacon to a cutting board and coarsely chop.

Remove potato shells from the oven and generously cover with the grated cheese, using about 1 cup per baking sheet.  Scatter the bacon pieces evenly over both sheets.

I used a mix of cheeses including copious amounts of white extra sharp Cheddar here. Because the potatoes were so hot when the cheese went on it began melting immediately. Whilst it appears these potatoes are almost naked I assure you they weren't. I wouldn't do that to a potato.

Sprinkle the remaining grated cheese over the bacon and return the pans to the oven.  Bake for 6-8 more minutes or until the cheese is melted.  If you like your cheese a little on the more toasty side -and I do- allow to cook an additional 2 minutes or just until the cheese is beginning to brown on top but is still gooey underneath.

Move baked potato skins to a platter.  If so desired, garnish with sliced green onions and serve with a bowl filled with the Creamy Onion Topping.

And boy, do I ever so desire.

Later this week, in keeping with our preparations for the Super Bowl and the Olympic Games there will be an epic barbecue smackdown wherein I take on…

Myself!

What will win?  My Carolina Style Barbecue Sauce or my Smokey Tomato Based Sauce?  Hmm?

I also thought you should know that I successfully resisted the temptation to indulge in two cheap and easy beans-and-gas jokes just now.  But I digress…

My Grandpa was a man who knew his food.  He was also a very accomplished man; a former construction worker, professional musician and ordained Methodist minister. And among all of his achievements, this sandwich stands as one of his best.

At first glance, a sandwich composed of baked beans, onions and mustard may not sound like it’s going to rock your world but take a closer look.  The homemade baked beans are saucy and just a little sweet with a pronounced molasses flavor.  The onion rings are sliced paper thin and add just the right amount of pungency.  The tang, salt and vinegar bite of the yellow mustard acts as a perfect foil to the slight sweetness of the beans.  And on lightly buttered homemade rye?  Oh my.  It makes an extraordinarily balanced sandwich full of umami.  Yes!  A sandwich that for all intents and purposes should be anything but refined ends up effortlessly tickling the taste buds in a way that cooks over the globe strive for when they create much fussier food.  And there is a very good reason behind it…

Much of the greatest and most comforting food in the world is the direct result of poverty, hardship and privation.  Pho, stock made from chicken feet, fried rice, dumplings, pasties, coq au vin, cassoulet, marrow bones, beef jerky* and haggis* all sprang from a desire to use every single possible edible part of the animal and avoid all waste.

*I’ll take on anyone who claims beef jerky isn’t great food.  Me and beef jerky?  We’re like this.   I could easily eat my way through a pound all by myself. I accept donations of beef jerky.

Now haggis?  Haggis has its origins in poverty to be sure.  But I’ve heard it said that people’s enthusiasm for haggis is directly inverse to the amount of hand they’ve had in preparing it. The truth is that  I just threw that in because tomorrow is Robert Burns’ birthday. So for the most part, haggis is relegated to being stabbed annually on Burns’ Nicht.  I, for one, am a-okay with this.  Moving back on to tastier things…

It’s probably not too far a stretch to say that our country was built on baked beans.  The native population ate beans, the settlers practically survived on beans,  (That is to say that those who did survive did so with the material assistance of their bean-rich diet.) and nearly every single immigrant population who has joined us since has brought another version of beans or their preparation with them.  Baked beans are the original All-American Food.

And -cough, cough- I do believe that mine are out of this world.  They are the basis for the aforementioned Grandpa’s Bean Sandwiches.  Now you could throw canned baked beans on a piece of bread and I’m sure it’d be decent.  But to have the sandwich that -in my Grandpa’s words- would make your tongue slap your brain silly, you want to make my beans.  Oh yes you do.  Because it all starts with this.

My baked beans have a little something extra that turns them into something good enough to make your grandpa cry.  I bake little bits of spicy sausage into the beans as they bubble away in the oven.  At least it would’ve made my Grandpa cry.  He liked sausage.

You can easily turn these baked beans into a delicious vegetarian dish simply by omitting the sausage and replacing it with two tablespoons of olive oil and a handful of chopped mushrooms.

And boy howdy are these ever inexpensive!  Including sausage, the whole dish should run you no more than five dollars and it can feed you for days!

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Sausage Baked Beans

Ingredients:

• 1 pound dried Navy beans, rinsed and picked over to remove stones or dirt clumps
• 12 cups fresh water for soaking plus additional boiling water for cooking
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 large cooking onion, peeled
• 1/4 pound spicy link sausage, cut into 1/2″ chunks
• 1/2 cup molasses
• 1 Tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon dried mustard powder (or 1 Tablespoon prepared yellow mustard)
• salt and pepper to taste

Place Navy beans in a dutch oven or other stove-top and oven safe deep-sided heavy pan with a tight fitting cover.  Pour 12 cups of fresh water over the beans, cover, and place over high heat.  Bring to a boil and allow to cook for 2 minutes.  Remove from heat and allow to sit at room temperature overnight, still covered.

In the morning, remove the cover, add the bay leaf, stir the beans and return to a boil over high heat.  Lower the heat to medium and simmer for about 30 minutes or until beans are just beginning to become tender, adding more boiling water if necessary.  You’re not looking to get the beans totally tender, you just want them to be starting to get tender. They’ll finish cooking as they bake! Remove the beans from heat again and pour into a colander in the sink.  Fish out and discard the bay leaves.

Preheat the oven to 300°F.

Evenly scatter the chunks of link sausage over the bottom of the pan you used to soak and cook the beans.  (Rinsing the pan between steps is unnecessary!) Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the molasses, brown sugar and mustard powder and then pour the hot beans over top.

Gently fold the beans and molasses mixture together.  Don’t beat the tar out of ‘em.  Be gentle about it.  Just fold…

Use a wooden spoon or silicone spatula to scrape the molasses coated beans into the pan over the sausage pieces.  Pour additional boiling water over the beans to cover them by about an inch.  Place pan, uncovered, in the oven and bake for about three hours.  Check the beans periodically to make sure they’re not becoming dry.  As soon as the beans are tender (This could be less than three hours or more depending on the age of the beans.  Just check them every now and again!) stir them so that you’re transferring the beans that were on bottom to the top and vice versa.  Raise the oven’s heat to 400°F and cook, still uncovered, until the sauce around the beans is thick and bubbly.  This should take about an hour.  Remove from oven, add salt and pepper to taste, cover, and allow to cool until they are a comfortable temperature to eat.

These beans are great hot, warm, room temperature or cold.  In short, eat them with dinner and then sneak them from the refrigerator at midnight.  I won’t tell.

Store leftovers, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.  They freeze and reheat well, too!

So what do you serve this alongside?  Roasts, sausages, hot dogs, hamburgers, toast, eggs, you name it.  But I do believe the best thing you could possibly do with these beans is whip up a couple of Grandpa’s Baked Bean Sandwiches.

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Grandpa’s Baked Bean Sandwiches

Ingredients:

• 2 slices hearty bread (I prefer rye.)
• 1 cup slightly reheated baked beans
• thinly sliced sweet onions
• prepared yellow mustard
• softened butter

This sandwich is as easy -and as good- as it gets!  Butter one side each of two slices of bread.  Spread the baked beans over the butter on one slice of bread, top with paper thin slices of sweet onion and a drizzle of prepared yellow mustard.  Lay the other slice of bread, butter side down, over the beans.  Slice in half and serve with pickles and a handful of chips, if life is good enough to you that you have them.  Sit back,  enjoy and remember that just because you don’t have money doesn’t mean you have to eat like it!

To all of you: I hope your New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are full of wonder, loved ones, great food and better memories.  And more than that, I hope that your upcoming year is even better than those two days.

This week, I am going to post a series of my version of the traditional Southern New Year’s meal.  Yes, there will be greens and pork products.  Yes, there will be cheese spread.  There will be much delicious soul food.  It’ll be here.  I’ll be here.  I hope you will be, too!

~~~~~~~~         ~~~~~~~~

So.  Who’s ready for a brand-spankin’, shiny New Year?  A blank slate full of possibility? Another three hundred and sixty five opportunities to make your life exactly what you want it to be?  Oh, I am.  I so am.

I’m not exactly the resolution type.  My anti-authoritarian streak runs so strong that I even rebel against the rules I make for myself.  (Side note to my parents:  I can hear you snickering from here. ) But I am crazy about the idea of self-improvement, on my own schedule and without pressure or someone telling me what to do, thankyouverymuch.

Instead of resolutions against which I would inevitably rail, I reflect on Longfellow’s ‘A Psalm of Life’ (full text below the recipe.) My favorite stanza from the poem reads:

“Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.”

This poem is my little pep talk to myself at the beginning of each new year.   It points my head and heart in the right direction.  And as we celebrate the ending of a year and the possibilities that lie ahead, I turn to poetry and food.  Food and poetry:  Sustenance for the romantic heart and the sensual stomach.

Because really, it isn’t a celebration if there isn’t food.  And New Year’s Eve comes with a set of dishes as traditional and romantic as Christmas geese and Thanksgiving turkeys.  I may have mentioned before that I married into a good Southern family and that my maternal grandparents are both Deep South born and bred.  New Year’s Day means you need black eyed peas.  And I don’t mean Fergie and her impossibly tight black leather pants. I mean the humble black-eyed pea or cowpea; the legume with the animal/vegetable name.

Southern tradition dictates that you improve your chances of having a great year if the first food you consume in the new year is black-eyed peas. The practice of eating black-eyed peas for luck on New Year’s Day dates back to around the Civil War era.  According to Wikipedia (who we all know is never, ever wrong) this came about when the Northern troops continually “stripped the countryside of all stored food, crops, and livestock, and destroyed whatever they couldn’t carry away. At that time, Northerners considered “field peas” [black-eyed peas, among others] and field corn suitable only for animal fodder, and didn’t steal or destroy these humble foods.”  Ha!  The joke is on us, Yankees.  Those black-eyed peas are the bees knees.  Especially when tossed together with snappy corn, vibrant jalapenos and big old flavors in Recession Caviar.

But back to the legend.  The black-eyed peas are supposed to represent coins.  Tradition dictates that by pairing the black-eyed peas with greens (I’ll post a killer green recipe later this week), which represent paper money, that you are starting your year out with wealth and the rest of the year will follow suit.  Now, I don’t know about all that, but I do know that starting the year out with a recipe that sure to save you some money can’t be a bad thing.

Long a standard recipe in my family, budget-friendly Recession Caviar comes in many forms (made with black beans or chili beans instead of the black-eyed peas) and has many names (Lindamood Caviar, Hillbilly Caviar, Texas Caviar, et al.) depending on the occasion.  Of course, this being for New Year’s we’ll be making it with the ubiquitous black-eyed peas. I recently made a giant bowlful of this for a gathering  of family at The Evil Genius’s Aunt Patty’s home (would that make her my Aunt-in-law?). This room full of Virginians, Texans, Georgians, Floridians, and a couple assorted Yankee spouses (meself included) gave it the ultimate stamp of approval; an empty bowl.  I’d say that’s some pretty universal appeal  with  hearty representation from the drawl-contingent.

And true to the name I’ve given it, it’s suitable for recession-stressed budgets.  Beans -both canned and dried- are a perennially inexpensive and nutritious source of protein, fiber, iron, vitamins, minerals and other vague nebulous nutrients*.  In fact, beans are, pound for pound, one of the least expensive and most nutritious foods you can introduce at your table.

*Vague and nebulous don’t do it for you?  Have a look at The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition’s ‘legumes and soybeans’ page. There is a wealth of information beyond my simplistic explanation.  But trust me.  Beans are good for you.  And your heart.  Because the more you eat, the more you…  I’m sorry.  You DO remember I have five sons, right?

Recession Caviar isn’t just easy on the pocketbook; it is a versatile contributor at the dinner table, snack time and parties, too.  Whether served with tortilla or corn chips, spooned into a burrito or on top of tacos, or as a side dish to fish, chicken, or pork, it is certain to impress with its big, bold flavors and fresh texture. You can always change out the black-eyed peas for black beans or chili beans and throw any other fresh vegetables you have into the mix.  Think of this a jumping off point…

Psst…  Remember it’s  good for you, too!  Consider this; you can ring in the New Year with proper Southern pride, please your belly, impress your guests, and watch your waistline all at the same time.  Who loves ya, baby?  Me!  That’s who!

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Recession Caviar (Black-Eyed Pea Salsa)

Ingredients:

• 3 cans (14.5 ounces each) Black-Eyed Peas, drained and rinsed
• 3 cups frozen corn, thawed
• 1/2 of a large red onion, or more to taste
• 1-4 fresh jalapeno peppers, according to preference
• 1-4 cloves of fresh garlic, according to preference, minced
• 1 large handful of fresh cilantro, rinsed and air-dried
• 2 Tablespoons light olive oil or canola oil
• 1 Tablespoon chili powder
• the juice of two fresh limes (You can use bottled lime juice if necessary.)
• 1 teaspoon Kosher salt
• Fresh ground black pepper to taste

Peel the red onion half and lay down on its cut side. Slice parallel cuts 1/8- 1/4 of an inch apart across the onion leaving the root end intact.  Turn the onion 90 degrees and slice across the cuts for a small dice. And really, don’t sweat trying for perfection on this one.  Part of the charm of Recession Caviar is its rustic appearance.

Add diced onions, corn and the rinsed black-eyed peas to a mixing bowl with the garlic.  Set aside.

Slice jalapeno peppers in half and use the tip of a spoon to remove the seeds, membranes and stems.

Slice the peppers into thin strips, turn the strips 90 degrees and slice across the strips to finely dice the peppers.

Transfer to the mixing bowl with the black-eyed peas, garlic and onions.

Roughly chop the cilantro and stir into the black-eyed pea mixture along with the oil, chili powder, lime juice, kosher salt and black pepper.

Allow to sit, covered at room temperature for an hour prior to serving or in the fridge for at least four hours prior to serving.  Store leftovers for up to 5 days tightly covered in the refrigerator.

~~~~~~~~        ~~~~~~~~

As promised, one of my favorite ways to ring in the New Year.

A PSALM OF LIFE

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real !   Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o’erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Tradition isn’t only defining on a grand scale.  Whether we accept or reject tradition forms a large part of how people view us and how we view ourselves.  Traditions are like a collective cultural memory.  Much more personally, though, traditions are the source of many of our most memorable family moments; weddings, funerals, Christmases, Independence Days, Thanksgivings, Easters… all spent in gathered around the table with loved ones.

When The Evil Genius and I started dating seriously (as opposed to when we were dating humorously), we carried on a tradition from his family; weekly dinners at Kam Wah Chinese Restaurant in Penfield, New York.  The Lindamood Viking Horde had been going there since my husband’s junior year of high school.  Considering the fact that he had established his Evil Empire long before I met him, you can imagine there was some lapse of time there.  The Evil Father-In-Law was good friends with the restaurant’s owner, Mr. Wong.  (a.k.a. Uncle Wong.)  Uncle Wong and his staff welcomed me as a part of the Lindamood Horde and treated me to off-menu items like Vicki’s Dumpling Dipping Sauce and his own private stash of homemade kimchi.  As the years passed, we celebrated our engagement there; ate our first post-honeymoon dinner there; ate there the night we learned we were pregnant for our first child (and second, third, fourth, and fifth child…); celebrated buying our first home, and generally ate there every time we wanted to treat ourselves or impress someone we were taking out to eat.

We took our whole family to eat at Kam Wah’s on a semi-regular basis.  As we added more kids to our brood, our ability to dine out diminished, but we got up there after each baby was born. Uncle Wong would insist that we eat unencumbered and would carry the babies around and show them off while we dined.  The wall by the cash register bore pictures drawn by and photos of my children.  In short, we were in.

Then one fateful day two years ago The Evil Genius told me that his brother, The Slightly-Less-Evil Lewis, called to say he heard Kam Wah’s had been closed.  I was sure he was wrong and told my husband so while frantically dialing Kam Wah’s phone number.  No answer.  I called again.  No answer.  I called again.  No answer.  At this point, you might consider my behavior stalking, but wait.  There’s more!  I sent my husband forty minutes out of his way on his morning commute to check the restaurant.  He reported back that it was locked up, the lights were out and there was a sign on the door explaining that it was closed.  I went into shock.

I called The Evil Father-In-Law in Florida who was, likewise, shocked.  He called Mr. Wong’s home phone.  It took us two weeks to find out that Uncle Wong had closed the restaurant for the most ridiculous of reasons.  He was old and wanted to retire.  Pshaw.  Unkind! He hadn’t told any regulars because he didn’t want us to try to talk him out of it.  I wanted my potstickers with Vicki’s sauce, House Special Soup with deep fried filled wontons floating in it, pork shreds in garlic sauce (extra broccoli, please!), and sesame beef (extra crispy, please!) with a bowl of Uncle Wong’s kimchi.  My kids wanted the little paper umbrellas and bags of sweets that Uncle Wong sent home with them after every visit.  And The Evil Genius wanted Szechuan beef and shrimp (extra spicy, please!) and the restaurant that had been a part of all the major events of his adult life.  And we didn’t even get a chance to lobby Uncle Wong to change his mind.  (I had persuasive lines to use, too.  How about this one?  “Retire?  You can rest when you’re dead!  I want my dinner!”)  No dice.  He stayed retired and Kam Wah’s stayed closed. And I stayed hungry.

In the past two years, after completing four of the five stages of grief over the closure of my favorite restaurant I’ve finally reached stage five; acceptance*. And with acceptance comes desperation.  I needed the food more than anything else.  The hunt for the perfect potstickers began in earnest. (To my mind, the one food more than any other that I associated with Kam Wah’s was and is potstickers.)  I tried every brand available at our local (and by local I mean an hour and a half away) Asian foods market.  They were good, but they weren’t just right.  I am too stubborn to settle for okay.

*My version of acceptance anyway.  In this version, I acknowledge that Uncle Wong has retired and I accept that he could still change his mind at any time and reopen the restaurant.  That works, right?

Potstickers fill my dreams because of their perfection; steaming hot, crisp-bottomed and soft-topped dumplings filled with moist gingery, garlicky meat and flecked with tiny bits of Chinese cabbage and scallions.  When served over chili-garlic sauce, soy sauce, and sesame oil or laying on a bed of Momofuku’s Ginger Scallion Mother Sauce, there is no food more satisfying in all of the world. Salty, crispy, meaty, garlicky, gingery, scallion-y, they are the ultimate in umami.

I could say I slaved over this recipe trying bazillions of different combinations, but I won’t.  (And I will now proceed to contradict myself from three paragraphs ago.) This one is close enough to the flavors I remember of Kammie’s dumplings that I don’t mess too much with it.  I make small alterations each time I make it, but I’m moving incrementally toward perfection.  This particular combination is as close to the Kam Wah recipe as I have ever gotten.  I suspect they used all ground pork with a little minced shrimp in there, but I haven’t gotten around to that attempt yet.  And in the meantime this recipe is great. It’s delicious.  It’s everyting a dumpling should be (shy of being made by the chefs at Kam Wah.)

This Chicken and Pork Potsticker recipe allows me to put into motion another tradition I’ve been meaning to start-  Chinese food on Christmas Eve.    This tradition I borrowed from our dear friends, the Wilsons.  Every Christmas for as long as I’ve known them they’ve had Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve.  This is a tradition behind which I can firmly plant myself.  But seeing as there is a dearth of decent Chinese food in Amish country, I’m on my own.  The food has to be made by me or it won’t exist at all.

One of the beautiful things about making the potstickers is that you can prepare the dumplings ahead of time and freeze them.  You pull just as many as you’d like from the freezer, heat the pan and fry the little beauties to perfection all in under ten minutes.  If that doesn’t make it the perfect prelude to a night filled with present wrapping and stocking stuffing then I don’t know what does!

I told my kids they’d get cooler presents this year if they left out a plate of potstickers instead of cookies. Hey, Santa baby.  Check these out!

For a photo-free, printer friendly version of this recipe, click here!

Chicken and Pork Potstickers

Ingredients:

• 1 pound ground pork
• 2 pounds ground chicken
• 1 small head Chinese, Napa or Savoy cabbage, minced
• 1-1/2 bunches green onions, washed and trimmed of roots and any dry ends
• 8 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
• 1/4- 1/2 cup peeled, minced or grated fresh ginger root
• 1/4 cup soy sauce
• 1 Tablespoon dark sesame oil
• 1 teaspoon fish sauce
• 1 package dumpling (gyoza) wrappers
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch mixed with 1 Tablespoon cold water

Lay green onions on the cutting board.  If you have onions with large bulb ends, you can cut them in half lengthwise before slicing to insure you have small enough pieces.  Slice the green onions thinly on an angle.

Set the onions aside.

Mix together pork, chicken, garlic, ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil, and fish sauce with your hands until everything is evenly distributed.

At this point, I usually pull about a cup of filling out for the anti-vegetable crowd around here.

Add the cabbage and sliced green onions to the pork mixture and thoroughly combine until evenly mixed.

Have you ever bought dumpling wrappers?  This is what the packages look like at my favorite market.

Mound 1-1/2 teaspoons of the filling into the center of a dumpling wrapper.

Moisten a finger tip in the cornstarch and water mixture then rub along the edge of the dumpling skin.

Pull both sides up -like a taco- around the filling and pinch together the excess dumpling skin.

Try to squeeze as much air out of the dumpling as you can while you firmly press together the sides.  Squeezing the air out keeps them from bursting while cooking.

It will look like a pierogy at this point. This is proof that every single decent ethnic food features a delicious stuffed dough type thing.  Pierogies, potstickers, ravioli… Need I go on?

When it is completely closed and sealed start in the center, pull and fold a pleat of the pinched dumpling skin toward the middle. Pinch firmly until it sticks.

Continue by forming two more pleats on that end of the dumpling.

Repeat in the opposite direction on the other end. Place finished dumpling on a cookie sheet.

Make as many dumplings as your filling and wrappers will allow.  You can freeze the dumplings on the cookie sheet then transfer to a zipper top bag in your freezer if desired or you can cook them immediately.  You can also tightly wrap and freeze any leftover filling or wrappers for your next round of dumpling making.

To Cook the Dumplings:

Pour one tablespoon of neutral oil (Canola, Vegetable, or Peanut) into a heavy non-stick skillet with a tight fitting lid.  Place the pan over medium high heat.  When oil is hot, swirl the pan to coat the bottom.  Place several dumplings in the pan taking care not to crowd the pan.

Fry the potstickers for three minutes.  Add 1/2 cup of warm water to the pan and immediately place the lid on the pan.  If cooking fresh potstickers, steam with the lid on for 5 minutes.  If starting with frozen potstickers, steam with the lid on for 8 minutes.  When the time is up, remove the lid and cook for 1-2 minutes more so the potstickers can crisp back up on the bottom.

Serve with desired condiments; we like chili garlic sauce, soy sauce, Sriracha, and Mae Ploy the best.

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