Falafel (Savory Chickpea Fritters)

This post is my entry for the second challenge in Project Food Blog: The interactive competitive series of culinary blogging challenges for the chance to advance and a shot at the ultimate prize: $10,000 and a special feature on Foodbuzz.com for one year.  I want to send out a big “Thank you!” to all of you who cast your votes for me.

The category for this challenge is “The Classics”.  Foodbuzz says, “Any food blogger worth their salt can make a classic dish sing, but can they go outside their comfort zone and tackle a foreign cuisine?”  In other words, they want we-the-contestants to tackle a classic dish from a foreign cuisine.  They also asked that we render said dish faithfully.

…I made another rule for myself, though. I wanted my classic foreign dish to be made entirely of items that I already had on hand. Yes, the rules require me to render the foreign dish faithfully, but I have to render my blog faithfully, as well. We do real food here, folks.  The kind of food that makes your mouth, heart, mind and pocket-book happy.  It wouldn’t have fit the bill if I ran up to the city and bought fifty bajillion exotic ingredients that aren’t available out here in Amish country.  I wanted to prove that you can whip up a fabulous ethnic feast on items that can be grown in your own yard or found in any two-bit grocery store in the back-forty.

Did I succeed?  Oh yeah.  Big time.

A meatless meal can be a hard sell in this home.  My crew is a real meat-loving bunch. My eldest boy once described himself as ninety-eight percent carnivore and two percent omnivore.

Let that sink in for a moment.

While I do insist on the occasional meatless meal, let’s just say my guys don’t usually beg for them. Well, at least they didn’t until I rediscovered falafel. Real falafel.*

*I’ll quantify that in a moment…

Aside from being so good that you crave it even after immediately eating it, it seriously does a body good. Made from ground chickpeas, it is packed so full of nutrients that I feel like the fine print on a prescription drug commercial listing them all here; mega-protein, complex carbohydrates, dietary fiber, calcium, iron, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, zinc, copper, manganese, Vitamin C, thiamine, pantothenic acid, Vitamin B, and folate. Not only that, but it’s low in fat, cholesterol and sodium.  Moreover, you know I love a recipe that’s mouthwatering, nutritious and cheap, right?  Well, hello!  Falafel isn’t just inexpensive, it’s dirt cheap. Score!

I spent my long-ago vegetarian years eating a lot of falafel. Back in the (vegetarian) day, I ate the stuff that came in dry mix boxes (yes, me!) but once or twice I had excellent versions at Middle Eastern eateries.  The boxed stuff just isn’t my bag, so to speak, anymore. It’s expensive and doesn’t taste fresh.  Mainly because it isn’t. The contest provided just the push I needed to learn, after all this time, how to make my own falafel from scratch. A little fiddling around with soaked chickpeas resulted in a recipe that rivals the best falafels I ever ate in restaurants.  In fact, I’d say (in sotto voce) it’s the best falafel I’ve ever had.

While the history and origins of the dish are contested (not surprisingly) the general consensus is that falafel was originally created in Egypt. It has since spread throughout the Middle East as a staple food and is even considered the National Snack of Israel. One bite of a savory, steaming hot chickpea fritters, and it’s obvious why it’s so well loved.  The crispy outer crust yields to a spicy, garlicky interior that is impossibly light for being made from such hearty beans.

Unlike most dishes made with chickpeas (i.e. hummus), falafel is made with dried beans that simply have been soaked, not cooked.  That makes this dish easy-chickpeasy.  Soak, blitz in the food processor with other ingredients, rest, pan fry, done.  Such a small amount of work for such a massive pay-off at such a tiny price. This kind of discovery is thrilling, I tell you!

Whether you stuff it in pitas or simply serve as a finger food with a variety of dipping sauces (like Tahini Sauce or *gasp* ketchup), Falafel is sure to please even the pickiest eaters.

Allow me to set the stage.

Me: “Dinner time!”

Two Youngest Boys: “I don’t wanna eat vegetables!”

Me: “Boys.  Come try these fritters.”

Boys: “Hey!  Those are fried!  Can I have them?  Do I have to share?  Can I eat it with my hands? Can I stab it with a toothpick?”

Me: “Yes.”

Boys descend on plate like a swarm of locusts in the Holy land.  Silence and an empty plate.

For the record, my carnivorous crew didn’t like the falafel.  They loved it. They inhaled it. They fished for little crunchy bits left on the plate. My little man who keeps promising he will like vegetables when he turns eight ate nearly his weight in it then asked whether we could have the ‘Middle Eastern hushpuppies’ again tomorrow. I’d call that an enthusiastic endorsement.

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

Falafel

  • 2 cups dried chickpeas
  • 1 onion, roughly chopped
  • 1/4 cup flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
  • 1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
  • 8 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 2 teaspoons dried cumin
  • 2 teaspoons Kosher salt or sea salt
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons ground cayenne pepper, to taste
  • 1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 8 to 14 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • Canola, vegetable, safflower or peanut oil for frying.

Optional for serving:

  • Pita bread
  • Tahini sauce (see recipe below)
  • Chopped tomatoes
  • Chopped onions

Rinse and pick over the dried chickpeas, removing any debris, discolored or misshapen beans in the process.  Place the chickpeas in a bowl and cover with at least 2 inches of cool water.  Place the bowl, covered, in the refrigerator for at least 12 hours and up to 24 hours.

Drain the chickpeas and place in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade.  Add the onions, parsley, cilantro, garlic, cumin, salt and cayenne to the work bowl, fix the cover in place and pulse until everything is finely ground but not pasty.  Sprinkle the baking soda and 8 tablespoons of the flour flour over the ground chickpea mixture and pulse again until it is evenly combined.  Scrape the falafel mixture into a mixing bowl. Use your hands to mix in the remaining flour until the mixture does not stick to you as much.  Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours before cooking.

To cook:

Line a plate with paper towels and set aside.

Heat about 3/4 of an inch of oil to about 375°F in a high-sided, heavy-bottomed pan. While oil is heating, form the falafel mixture into ping pong size balls, using about 1-1/2 Tablespoons at a time.

When oil reaches the right temperature, drop about 6 balls in at a time.  Fry for about 1 minute, flip the balls and fry for an additional minute.  Use a slotted spoon or tongs to transfer the falafel to the lined plate.

Serve hot with a side of tahini sauce or stuffed into pita halves with chopped tomatoes, onion and tahini sauce.

Get ‘em while they’re hot, boys!

Tahini Sauce

Adapted from a recipe by Tyler Florence

  • 1/2 cup tahini
  • 1/2 cup Greek yogurt (or plain yogurt if Greek yogurt is not available)
  • 2 Tablespoons lemon juice or white wine vinegar
  • 2 garlic cloves, chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon Kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Add all ingredients to a blender, cover, and process on high speed until completely smooth. Taste and adjust salt and pepper to your liking.  Serve over fried falafel or salad greens.

This is my second entry in Project Food Blog over at Foodbuzz.com.Did you like this recipe and the post?  I’d appreciate your vote of support!  You can cast it for me here! Or you can simply click on the yellow orange “Vote for Me” tab on the “Official Food Blog Contestant” badge up in the left sidebar.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Canned Barbecue Beans (El Pollo Loco BBQ Black Beans clone)

If I live to be a thousand years old I will never exhaust the possibilities offered by beans.  And what is there not to like about beans? They are- all at once- so inexpensive, so nutritious, so easy to store, so delicious, so versatile.

If you’ve been with me here at Foodie With Family for a while you’re pretty familiar with my adoration of beans.  They’re a quick, filling, el-cheapo way to feed a growing family.

“Quick?  Beans? Well, surely you aren’t making them from the dried state,” sayeth the doubting crowd.  Ah, but yes.  Yes, I am.  And here is where this post morphs from singing the praises of beans to evangelizing about canning.  Pressure canning, specifically.  And this requires a diversion of some length from beans…

Even if you were raised in a family who canned a great deal of food (as I was) chances are you heard something like this regarding pressure canning, “Pressure canners are DANGEROUS!  My Aunt Bertha had one explode on her once.  She leapt in front of it to protect the baby who was walking through the kitchen. They had to pull shrapnel from her neck.  Just missed the jugular.”  (The preceding cautionary tale was an amalgam of the pressure-canning horror stories from my own family members and friends.)  The truth is that pressure canners were dangerous.

The operative word here is ‘were’.  The reason so many of us have heirloom pressure canner tales of gore from ages of yore is because there were so many of them that actually exploded. But there is a whole new generation of pressure canners on the market now.  They have ratcheting, locking lids with metal-to-metal seals instead of  the inferior rubber gasket seals and their disturbing likelihood to warp, crack or otherwise deteriorate.

The Evil Genius has inspected Carol (Yes, my pressure canner has a name.  Don’t you name your appliances?) and pronounced her to be the domestic equivalent of a small-scale industrial sterilizer.  (And the man ought to know, he stares at/operates/programs/troubleshoots the real thing all day long every day. If the fellow who sits in front of the blast window on an industrial sterilizer waiting for little glass vials to explode says it’s safe, I think you can take his word for it.  And since I’m incapable of remaining on topic for more than three sentences, let me just ask one thing.  Does anyone else find it amusing that a man who is clearly NOT sterile [I remind you we had five sons in nine years] specializes in sterilizers?)

Hello?

Is anyone out there?

“Get back on topic already!”

I can take a hint…

Yes, well.  Here’s where I was going with this.  Pressure canning is very safe now.  Provided you use a new model pressure canner and follow the safety instructions.  And don’t let Aunt Bertha near it.  Just saying.

As for which pressure canner to use, I prefer this beauty:

 

This is the second to the largest model made by the Wisconsin Aluminum Foundry.  Yes, it’s a little more expensive than its smaller siblings or cheap knock-offs made by other companies, but it can hold and process fourteen quarts simultaneously.  Come on!  That’s seriously amazing.  That means that it twice as efficient as models that hold seven quarts.  And it can double as a big old boiling water canner.  There’s no boiling water canner on earth that can do double duty like Carol.

I have major warm fuzzies for this company.  When I broke my gauge (read: my fault completely.  I didn’t read the directions.) they replaced it –free of charge- even after I confessed what happened to it.  They sent it via Priority Mail.  Did I mention they sent it for free?  As in gratis?  I declared my love for them over the phone.  I think they’re used to it. But we were talking about beans, weren’t we?

Ah yes, these beans.

As if Facebook wasn’t a giant enough time hoover for me, I recently discovered the existence of the fabulous and aptly named ‘Canning’ group.  In this group was a picture of a batch of barbecue beans one member had made. The original recipe described them as being a clone of El Pollo Loco’s  BBQ Black Beans.  Having never been to an El  Pollo Loco, I had no idea what that meant.  One look at the recipe, though, and I knew I had to try it.  The method was so simple.  And the payoff was huge.

The hardest part of the whole project was waiting two weeks after processing to try them. Their hermetically sealed jars beckoned from their shelf in the basement, “Eat me!”

And boy, oh boy, these beans are good.  There is no hint at all of the paltry ten minutes of hands-on time (well, alright, twenty minutes if you count wiping and labeling the jars.) that went into creating this masterpiece. Smoky, spicy, saucy- they taste like beans that have baked for hours upon hours in the oven rather than beans poured from a jar that sat in the basement.  These beans alone are reason enough to justify the price of a new pressure canner even if they’re the only thing you ever make in it. How can that possibly be?

Let me paint you a little mental picture.  Let’s say, hypothetically, that you have five sons.  (Could happen, you know…) And let’s say that two of them are in a play; rehearsal is on Tuesday and the show is on Thursday, a column due Wednesday, paperwork to fill out at the bank on Thursday morning, a house full of company coming for the weekend on Friday and they’re planning on eating with you.  Right.  So, where in there are you going to find time to make a delicious and filling dinner for your company?  Try this one on for size.  Throw on a pot of rice.  Open and reheat a couple jars of Canned Barbecue Beans.  Put a couple links of your favorite sausage on the grill (Kielbasa, smoked sausage, link-chorizo, what-have-you…) and toss together a salad. Fluff the rice, top with the beans and sausage and serve with a salad and something icy cold to drink.

But hang on. It’s cheap, people!  It’s dirt cheap!  You can’t get food much cheaper than this, and you certainly can’t buy food of this quality for anywhere near this little in any store. And more banging of the drum… it’s so very good for you.  Fiber, vitamins, minerals, no funky preservatives or additives.  It’s great food the way food was intended to be.

For a printer-friendly version of this recipe, with no photos and sidebars, click here!

Canned Barbecue Beans

adapted from Creative Canning and Mary Kay Craig

  • 1 pound (or slightly more) black beans or a mix of pinto and black beans, rinsed, picked over and soaked 8 hours or overnight
  • 2 onions, peeled and small
  • 5 small cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 1/2 cups barbecue sauce (I used my favorite homemade Kansas City style sauce, but bottled sauce will do the job in a pinch.)
  • 2-3 drops liquid smoke per pint jar
  • 1/4-1/2 teaspoon ground chipotle powder per pint jar, to taste, or 1/2 of a fresh jalapeno, minced, per pint jar.

After the beans have soaked overnight, drain and rinse them.  What you see below is mixture of black beans and pinto beans that is approximately equal by weight.

Divide the beans between five clean pint jars. The beans should fill the jars about halfway.  Divide the onions and minced garlic evenly between the jars.

Add the chipotle powder (or minced jalapenos) and liquid smoke to each jar.

Add 1/2 cup of barbecue sauce to each jar. Notice how the pinto beans have been stained by the black beans?  That’s just inevitable.  Don’t let it worry you.

Then add clean, fresh water to the jars to within an inch of the top rim.  Insert a chopstick to the bottom of the jar two or three times per jar to release any trapped air bubbles.

Adjust the liquid if needed to maintain one-inch of clearance  from the upper rim.  Wipe the rims, add new two-piece lids and process, according to your canner’s manufacturer’s recommendations, at 15 pounds of pressure for 90 minutes.

How is that possible that you don’t have to cook the beans first? Pressure canning is more than just efficient, it’s convenient.  As you’re processing the jars, you’re also cooking the beans inside the jars.  It’s like doing a little bit of kitchen magic.

And now comes the tricky part.   You have to wait at least two weeks for the beans to soak up the liquid in the jar.  You could even wait four weeks for the ultimate experience, if you can stand it.  You’ll be making another batch as soon as you open up that first jar, though.  I guarantee you that!

P.S.  There was a really neat phenomenon that happened with these jars.  Because you form a vacuum inside the jars (by design) when pressure canning, the liquid inside the jars can continue to boil long after they’re removed from the canner.  One jar’s contents boiled for thirty-five minutes after it was sitting on the cooling rack!  The Evil Genius assures me that this is perfectly normal and safe.

Homemade Hummus

I spent nearly seven years as a vegetarian; those years were spent subsisting mainly on hummus, cheese and big green salads. I long ago enthusiastically re-entered the omnivore world* but still spend a great deal of time conveying hummus to my mouth on various crudites and pita chips.

Hummus is the first rite of spring that I observe every year and it’s on nearly every family-get-together-buffet. When the weather warms up my brain starts nagging me, “Hummus. You want hummus. You need some hummus. Make some hummus.” And like all good voices in the head, it only goes away when it’s obeyed. But I jest. I don’t have voices in my head nagging me about hummus; they nag me to eat chocolate. But that’s another cuppa tea…

The point is this. When I posted about the dreadfully addictive Mediterranean Hummus Pizza I mentioned that I was willing to share my hummus recipe if anyone wanted it.  I assumed everyone had their own hummus recipe and that everyone had spent years as a vegetarian living mainly on hummus.  That’s the way my thought process works, you see… “If I have done it, everyone has done it, too.” Let’s just say this; apparently not everyone went through a seven-year vegetarian phase the way I did.  And equally apparently, not everyone has made a cubic ton of hummus over their lifetime.  I see this now.  I understand.  And I’m going to show you the way.

Extraordinary hummus is so easy to make at home that you’ll never pay for deli-case hummus again.  Unless, of course, you’re away from your home and food processor and are struck with a sudden, unabating craving for hummus and there is a tub of Tribe of Umpteen Sheiks staring you in the face.  In that case, I fully stand behind spending way too much money on a snack.  It could be worse, after all; you could be spending it on Ho-Ho’s. *

*Note to self: Put Ho-Ho’s on grocery list in code so the kids don’t see it.  Hide the Ho-Ho’s in apron pocket, hide in closet and apply directly to mouth when needed (i.e. when kids are fighting, arguing, breathing, etc…)

There are a couple of camps in the hummus loving crowd; the smooth hummus lovers and the rustic hummus aficianados.  The rustic-hummus crowd is a good one to which to belong if you don’t own a food processor.  It is full of coarse pieces of garbanzo beans and bits of minced garlic. It is easily accomplished by mooshing all the hummus ingredients together with a potato masher or -in a gadgetless kitchen- with the clean bottom of a heavy can.

I am an unapologetic, card-carrying member of the smooth hummus contingent.  I like a super-smooth, chunk-free hummus that can be spread as easily inside a pita pocket as it is dipped onto a carrot stick or tortilla chip.  And since I’m making it, I’m in control here. (This, quite honestly, is probably one of the main reasons I love cooking so much.  Control.  For more musings on control as a common trait among obsessive cooks -and a killer coffee cake recipe-, see this hilarious post from my ‘Evil’ friend.)

When you make your hummus, you’ll be the one in control.  If you want it more coarse, just stop processing it earlier or use something less efficient than a food processor to do your squishing work for you.

Having a container of hummus in the refrigerator is like having one of those Jetson’s food synthesizing devices in your kitchen.  Stuff a pita pocket with a layer of hummus, some thinly sliced vegetables and a handful of sprouts and you have a filling, light, healthy lunch in less than five minutes.  Feeling peckish?  Scoop some hummus into a bowl and serve with a fistful of carrot and celery sticks or tortilla chips.

*Well, like a Jetson’s Food-A-Rac-A-Cycle minus Rosie the Robot Maid and the button that makes food materialize.  But you catch my drift, right?

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

Homemade Hummus

Basic Ingredients:

  • 1-4 peeled garlic cloves, minced or pressed
  • 3 cups cooked chickpeas (or 2 [15.5 ounce] cans, drained with liquid reserved) + 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid
  • 6 Tablespoons tahini
  • 6 Tablespoons lemon juice
  • up to 2 Tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves, curly or flat, rinsed and drained
  • 1/2 to 1-1/2 teaspoons salt, to taste
  • 1/8 to 3/4 teaspoons cayenne pepper (or other ground hot chile pepper), to taste
  • fresh ground black pepper, to taste

Optional, but delicious possible additions:

  • Minced green onions, cumin, roasted red peppers, roasted garlic, curry powder, fresh cilantro leaves, and garlic scapes.  But probably not all at once, eh?

Add garlic cloves, chickpeas, tahini, and lemon juice to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade.  After putting the lid tightly in place, process until a thick, coarse paste is formed, about 1 to 2 minutes.  Check the consistency of the hummus.  If you’re happy with the texture of the hummus, add the salt, parsley, black pepper and cayenne pepper, and any optional add-ins, and pulse until evenly combined.

If you would like it to be thinner and/or smoother, add the olive oil and process for an additional minute.  If you would like it thinner yet, add some of the cooking liquid from the chickpeas along with the parsley, salt, black pepper and cayenne pepper, and any optional add-ins and process for an additional 3 to 4 minutes.

Serve plain as pictured below, or with a sprinkling of minced parsley as pictured above.  Either way it’s magnificent!

Don’t forget the goodies for dipping!

Mediterranean Hummus Pizza and Pre-Baked Pizza Crusts

The recipe I am about to share with you is, emphatically, not ‘Dude Food’.  Oh sure, guys will eat it.  They’ll like it, maybe even love it.  But this is designed with me in mind, and I, quite emphatically, did not want ‘Dude Food’ today.

It was bright and sunny and warm and altogether spring-like all day long.  I wanted light and flavorful and exotic.  This was Made for Mom (me.)  Every now and then I think I’m entitled.

Details: A prebaked pizza crust*  topped with silky smooth hummus**, roasted red peppers, paper thin slices of cucumbers and red onions, black olives, crumbled feta cheese and parsley.   It is pure freshness. It is the kind of thing I would sit down and devour with my sisters and my mother.  But since they didn’t pick up on my brainwaves (so much for female intuition) when the pizza was done, I was forced to eat the majority of the thing myself.  This rather defeats the whole light/fresh angle of the dish.  The Evil Genius stepped in, ate the last few slices and even uttered a, “Hey.  This is really good!”  But my mom and sisters? They would’ve been transported by it.  They would’ve been ecstatic.  They would’ve been rendered speechless.  And this would’ve been a good thing.  There were a lot of onions on it.

* and **  In both of these cases, homemade is the best bet.  If you don’t want to make a pre-baked pizza crust or hummus you can certainly use the store bought equivalents.

This brings me to a really hhhhhhhhelpful hhhhhhhhhhint.  (Quit moving away from your computer! There’s no WAY you can smell my onion breath through the monitor.  Or can you?)  Do you know you can reduce the ‘punch’ that raw onions pack?  (Which I did not do today.  Obviously.  Phew.  I’m offendin’ myself.) It’s a pretty simple process; thinly slice or chop your onions as you wish to serve them.  Place in a bowl and cover generously with super cold tap water.  Let sit for 10 minutes, drain, rinse and repeat at least twice.  By the last time you rinse the onions, they should be gentle(r) and mild(er). The stronger your onions are to begin with, the more times you’ll need to rinse your onions.  Of course, if you like the powerful bite of March onions, feel free.  Just remember I waaahhhhhhhh-rned you.

And not that we need an excuse to make treats for ourselves, but just in case you feel the need to justify it, check out these ‘features and benefits’:

  • This is made with chick peas/garbanzo beans.  Beans are fantastic for your health; fiber, vitamins, protein, and more are all packed into those tiny little packages.
  • Pound for pound, beans are one of the least expensive sources of protein that you can buy.  Eat away!
  • All those vegetables on top make this indulgence a healthy one.  Can’t you feel yourself getting healthier just by looking at a slice?

For a printer-friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, sans the yakety-yackety, click here!

Mediterranean Hummus Pizza

Ingredients:

  • 1 (12-16″) pre-baked pizza crust (The recipe for an excellent homemade pre-baked crust is listed after the recipe for the pizza.)
  • 1-1/2 cups prepared hummus
  • 1/4-1/3 cup roasted red peppers, sliced into thin strips
  • 1/2-3/4 of an English cucumber, sliced as thinly as possible
  • 1/2 of a red onion, sliced as thinly as possible
  • 1/2 cup black olives, thinly sliced or halved
  • 1/2 cup feta cheese crumbles
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley, minced

Spread the hummus over the crust to within 1/2-inch of the edges.

Shall we zoom in on that crust for a moment?  You want to make these pizza crusts.  They are almost unbearably delicious.  But don’t take my word for it…

Evenly space the roasted red pepper strips over the hummus.  Arrange the cucumber slices over the top, then the red onions and black olives.  Scatter the feta cheese crumbles evenly over the top and sprinkle the minced parsley over everything.

Hubba hubba...

Slice into wedges or squares and serve at room temperature.

Pre-Baked Pizza Crusts

Yield: 3 large pre-baked crusts

Ingredients:

  • 3 cups warm (but not hot) whey or milk
  • 3-1/2 Tablespoons instant yeast
  • 1/4 teaspoon sugar
  • 2 teaspoons Kosher salt, plus additional for sprinkling over dough
  • 1 pound and 13- 3/4 ounces (7 cups) all-purpose flour
  • 3 Tablespoons olive oil, plus additional for spreading over dough
  • 3/4 teaspoon granulated garlic, plus additional for sprinkling over the dough (you can substitute minced fresh garlic if necessary.)

Place the warm whey or milk in a very large mixing bowl and sprinkle the yeast and sugar over the top.  Swirl the bowl and let sit for five minutes.  Add the remaining ingredients and stir until an evenly moist and a cohesive dough forms.  Cover with a clean dish towel and let rise for 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 500°F.

Generously grease three large, round pans (or rimmed sheet pans) with olive oil.  Wet your hands and divide the dough into three equal portions.  With wet hands, spread the dough on your oiled pans.  Allow the dough to rest for five more minutes, wet your hands again, and re-work the dough toward the outer edges of the pan.  Brush or rub the dough generously with olive oil and sprinkle lightly with granulated garlic or minced garlic.

Bake pizza crusts for 8 minutes if you want a partially baked crust to be topped and baked again later, or 12 minutes for a fully baked crust.

Remove crust from pan and cool on a rack.  You can use immediately or wrap tightly with a double thickness of plastic wrap and frozen for a month.

~~~

Now, the question is this; is anyone in need of a good hummus recipe?  Because I’m willing to share…

Sausage Baked Beans and Grandpa’s Baked Bean Sandwiches

I’ve talked a great deal about frugal foods and menu planning in my last few posts.  There’s no doubt about it, one of the most budget-friendly foods you can make is beans!  But that’s not why I’m posting this recipe today.  I’m posting it because it’s STINKIN’ AWESOME!  And because it’s cheap.  I thought you should know…

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!

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

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.

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

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!

Recession Caviar (Black-Eyed Pea Salsa)

Thank you all so much for spending time with me here at Foodie with Family.  To those of you who have visited me regularly through the year, thank you for your continued support.  It has meant the world to me to get to know you all.  And to those who are new, Welcome!  I hope you stick around.  I’ll put on a pot of tea! Hearing from you -whether it is questions or comments about recipes, a story, or sharing a recipe of your own- is one of the highlights of my days.  Even if I’m a total dork and forget to respond, rest assured you’ve put a smile on my face.  For this, my long-suffering kids thank you.

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!

~~~~~~~~         ~~~~~~~~

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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.

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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!

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

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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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~~~~~~~~        ~~~~~~~~

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.

Taco Soup

Is it soup yet?

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We lived in Le Roy for just over a decade.  We loved our home, our church, our community. We had rebuilt the house while living in it.  (This process was helped along by the fact that it was bare studs, floors and outer walls and absolutely-nothing-else when we bought it.)  We could’ve stayed and stayed and stayed until we passed beyond the veil.  So why did we leave?  By the time we made an offer on our current home, we were a family of seven with two morbidly obese dogs and many musical instruments crammed into a 1300 square foot home.

It started way back with the birth of my first son.  When we brought Liam home, the phone was ringing and it was the community outreach coordinator from church.  She informed me that it was the practice of the church women to provide meals to new mothers for the first two weeks after a baby was born.  I accepted (because how can you say no to that?) but secretly thought to myself that I didn’t know why they thought I wouldn’t be able to make our family’s meals.  I learned.  Quickly.

Those meals came for fourteen days and fourteen nights and they were good.

When, two months later, baby Liam was rushed to the hospital for a life-saving surgery, the women once again provided meals so we could focus on helping Liam recover.

Two years later, just before Aidan was born, my meal angel called again.  I was shocked.  I said, “I thought the meals were just for new mothers!”  She laughed and said, “Well, this baby will be new, won’t he?”  I gratefully accepted the offer and the meals.  This time, since I had a c-section, the meals were the only thing standing stalwartly between us and a steady diet of cold cereal.

And once again,  the meals came for fourteen days and fourteen nights and they were good.

Another two years on, and another beautiful baby boy, the meals rolled in for another two weeks.  Ty nursed happily.  I reheated happily. I cherished the food I received after the births of my children.  You could say they were like manna from heaven.  After the births of Leif and Rowan, they kept the meals a-coming like the loaves and the fishes.

I don’t mean to suggest that I carried on having more kids in order to get the free meals from those amazing cooks over at Calvary.  That would be just wrong.  It’s pure coincidence that I haven’t had any more kids since moving. I kept having children because I loved my boys.  Okay. And the meals. Those women were GOOD cooks.

~~~   ~~~   ~~~

If you happen to find yourself in Le Roy, New York on a Sunday morning, stop in at the golf-ball church.  The preaching is great, the people are friendly and if you’re lucky they’ll be hosting a potluck or a fellowship meal.  It’s worth your time.  Trust me.

~~~    ~~~   ~~~

This family-favorite, Taco Soup, was one of those fabulous meals and was brought to us by my dear friend, Carolyn.  It has graced our table many times, and in many forms, over the years since Carolyn came into my kitchen bearing a steaming crock of soup, tortilla chips, grated cheese, and sour cream.

This is a memory soup.  One whiff of this bubbling away on the stovetop and my entire body remembers the feeling of cradling a sweet smelling, impossibly soft newborn.  I watch my boys eat this and remember their little balled fists resting on my chest as they nursed to sleep.  When I eat this I remember my friends who tramped through snow storms  to bring my family sustenance and companionship.

When I cook this, I remember taking it to my little sister, Jessamine, after her baby boy, Ezra was born.  That time it had a little extra something special in it.  When Jessie sat down later that evening to eat it, she found a spider floating in her soup.  Whether it came with the soup from my house or jumped in in a fit of despair somewhere else along the road we’ll never know.  Her husband ate it anyway.  The soup, that is.

As with most soups, many of the ingredients are changeable.  Don’t fancy chili beans or pinto beans?  Add some pork and beans or kidney beans instead.  Do you prefer home-cooked beans?  Believe me when I tell you this soup is sublime with them.  Replace the chicken broth with beer, add a couple handfuls of masa and you will have an excellent pot of chili. To make a hearty vegetarian soup, replace the chicken broth with beer or vegetable broth, and omit the meat.  You can leave as is or add in crumbles or TVP.  Feel free to add spiders if you like ‘em.  My sister and I will go without.

It’s cold out there.  You need soup.  You need this soup!

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

 

Taco Soup

Ingredients:

  • 1 pound ground beef, browned and drained ~or~ 3 cups leftover cooked meat, chopped
  • 1 can (28 ounces) crushed or diced tomatoes
  • 2-3 cups chicken broth or stock (Depending on how soupy you like your soup. Using less broth will result in a thicker soup.)
  • 1 packet Ranch Dressing Mix
  • 1 packet taco or enchilada seasoning (If using seasoned meat, this can be omitted!)
  • 1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can chili beans with sauce
  • 1 can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
  • 2 cups frozen corn kernels

Optional for serving:

  • Tortilla or corn chips
  • Grated cheese
  • Sour Cream or plain yogurt
  • Sliced green onions
  • Minced fresh cilantro
  • Diced tomatoes

Slow Cooker Directions (see below for Stove top directions):

In a slow cooker crock stir together meat, tomatoes, dressing and seasoning mixes (if using), black beans, chili beans with sauce, pinto beans and corn.  Place lid on crock, turn slow cooker to ‘LOW’ and cook for 6-8 hours.

Serve with or without toppings.

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Store leftovers, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.  You can also portion the leftover soup into individual servings and store in the freezer for up to 6 months.

Stove top Directions:

Stir together meat, tomatoes, dressing and seasoning mixes (if using), black beans, chili beans with sauce, pinto beans and corn in an appropriately sized soup pot.  Place lid on pot, put pot over medium low heat and bring to a simmer.  Remove the lid and allow to simmer gently for 30-40 minutes or until soup is slightly thickened.

Serve with or without toppings.  Store leftovers, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.  You can also portion the leftover soup into individual servings and store in the freezer for up to 6 months.

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Spicy Corn and Black Bean Salad

Oh mercy.  The  Honyaks, The Evil Genius and I are all so sugared out from Easter candy that  it’s not even funny.  We’re all draped over pieces of furniture craving fresh fruits and veggies and some decently Spring-like days.  At this point we’d all settle for a sunny day without the -30°F winds.  Cripes!  It’s April, already.  So I’m taking matters into my own hands.  I’m turning some of our favorite summer standards (any of them that CAN be done with what’s available in stores, the freezer and the pantry at this time of year) in the hopes that the weather will notice what we’re doing and get into gear.

This Spicy Corn and Black Bean Salad is another from our Bean Files.  It’s another great reason to keep containers of cooked black beans in the fridge or freezer. The corn we used?  Well, shoot.  This time of year it had to be frozen (’cause I don’t do canned corn.)  And you know something?  I use the frozen corn for this salad even when corn is in season.  It’s perfect for this application. Just thaw the bags of corn in the fridge overnight.  If you’re in a real hurry, you can thaw it in the microwave, but try not to cook it.  Part of the appeal of this salad is a little snappy texture from the corn.  Since many of the cell-walls have already been burst in the process of blanching and freezing the corn, you really don’t want to push it  along into mush-territory by cooking it.

Do you need help choosing and handling the perfect avocado?  Go armed with these tips and you should come home with some good ones:

  • Examine the skin of the avocado.  It should be a uniform color.  If there are darker or discolored areas or perforations, it could indicate over-ripe or discolored areas under the skin.  It could also indicate a bad avocado.
  • Locate where the stem is attached to the avocado.  Push on it gently like a button.  If the stem doesn’t move easily, it’s not yet ripe.  If it flies into the avocado with no resistance, it’s overripe and past its prime.  If it yields to pressure, without being squishy, it’s probably the perfect avocado.
  • Once you find the perfect avocado treat it gently!  Put it in your cart or basket where it won’t get banged around.  Keep an eagle eye on where it lands in the grocery bags so you can carefully take it home.  Place it in the middle of your fridge and use within a day or two for best quality.

We like this pretty spicy (as evidenced by the habaneros we used for the spice-kick here).  If your tastebuds don’t do chile-peppers, you can always substitute bell peppers for the hot peppers.  Feel free.  I won’t judge!

I have to say that a big bowl of this is a good, light dinner in my book.  But if you are so inclined it makes a wonderful side dish for any and all grilled meats.  And if you were feeling crazy, you could add some crispy crumbled bacon to it and you probably wouldn’t regret it.  But then again it’s pretty hard to regret adding bacon.

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

I love this stuff.

I love this stuff.

Spicy Corn Salad

Ingredients:cornsalad1

  • 36 ounces frozen corn, thawed but not cooked
  • 2 1/2 cups cooked and drained black beans (or 2 cans black beans drained and rinsed)
  • 2 avocados
  • 2 cucumbers (preferably English seedless, but any two will do)
  • BIG handful fresh cilantro
  • 1-4 fresh jalapeno or habanero chile peppers (depending on heat preference)

 

Dressing:cornsalad2

  • 1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic or garlic paste
  • 1/3 cup lime juice
  • 1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon prepared yellow mustard (I’m not joking.  It’s really crucial!)
  • 2 teaspoons chili powder
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
  • black pepper to taste
  • 1/2 cup canola or peanut oil

Combine corn and black beans in a large mixing bowl and set next to your cutting board.  If using English cucumbers, remove plastic wrap, slice into long strips then slice the long strips into cubes then add to the corn and beans.  (If using a standard, wax-coated cuke, peel first, halve, then seed the cucumber before slicing into long strips and cubes and adding to the corn and beans.)

All I could find were the wax-coated cukes in my store and I can't be the only one.  Peel the beastie and cut in half lengthwise.

All I could find were the wax-coated cukes in my store and I can't be the only one. Peel the beastie and cut in half lengthwise.

Use the tip of a teaspoon to dig the seedy pulp from the center of the cucumber.

Use the tip of a teaspoon to dig the seedy pulp from the center of the cucumber.

Halfway done and we look like this...

Halfway done and we look like this...

Cut the seeded halves into long strips...

Cut the seeded halves into long strips...

Turn the long strips 90 degrees and cut across them.  (Almost) instant diced cucumbers!

Turn the long strips 90 degrees and cut across them. (Almost) instant diced cucumbers!

Clearly I chose a bowl that was much too small.  The smart thing to do would be to switch it into a larger bowl.  However, I chose to soldier on...

Clearly I chose a bowl that was much too small. The smart thing to do would be to switch it into a larger bowl. However, I chose to soldier on... Aint' no fool like a stubborn fool!

 

Wear gloves to stem and seed the chile peppers.

Slice peppers into thin strips and then turn and cut across the strips to create tiny diced pepper pieces

Can I please re-emphasize to wear disposable gloves when working with habanero peppers?  Just trust me.  And see this post for further details...

Can I please re-emphasize to wear disposable gloves when working with habanero peppers? Just trust me.

 

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Don't the habanero strips almost resemble flames?  I think that's pretty appropriate!

Don't the habanero strips almost resemble flames? I think that's pretty appropriate!

Turn 90 degrees and cut across your thin strips of peppers.  Voila!  Tiny diced pieces of habanero.  Virtually painless.  For now!

Turn 90 degrees and cut across your thin strips of peppers. Voila! Tiny diced pieces of habanero. Virtually painless. For now!

Add to the other veggies.  Toss gently to mix.

Remove large stems from your cilantro and roughly chop the leaves before adding to the veggies in the mixing bowl.

In a jar with a tight fitting lid, add all ingredients for the dressing except the oil.  Firmly screw the lid in place and shake like crazy until everything is evenly mixed.  Remove the lid, add oil, replace lid and shake like the dickens.  When the oil is suspended in the mixture (you don’t see pools of unincorporated oil) the dressing is ready.

Or you can use a little whisk.  Do whatever flicks your Bic!

Or you can use a little whisk. Do whatever flicks your Bic!

 

Just before serving, halve the avocados and remove the pits.

Here's how you work an avocado.  Use a nice, sharp knife to cut to the center (pit) of the avocado.  Rotate your knife around until you've scored the avocado all the way around the pit.

Here's how you open an avocado. Use a nice, sharp knife to cut to the center (pit) of the avocado. Rotate your knife around until you've scored the avocado all the way around the pit.

With one hand cupping the bottom of the avocado, use the other hand to twist the top half of the avocado.  It should come away easily.

With one hand cupping the bottom of the avocado, use the other hand to twist the top half of the avocado. It should come away fairly easily after you get it started.

Now.  For that pit...

Now. For that pit...

While your avocado is sitting on the cutting board (NOT IN YOUR HAND!) gently tap it with the blade of your knife.  The knife should stick.  Then pick up the avocado half and gently twist your knife.  The pit should come away from the avocado easily.

While your avocado is sitting on the cutting board (NOT IN YOUR HAND!) gently tap it with the blade of your knife. The knife should stick. Then pick up the avocado half and gently twist your knife. The pit should come away from the avocado easily.

Look at those gorgeous avocados!

Look at those gorgeous avocados!

I wouldn't be so unkind as to leave you with an avocado pit stuck to your precious knife without giving you a way to remove it.  Reaching over the back (read: not sharp part) of the blade, pinch the knife where it meets the pit.  The pit should, with little convincing, pop away from the knife blade.

I wouldn't be so unkind as to leave you with an avocado pit stuck to your precious knife without giving you a way to remove it. Reaching over the back (read: not sharp part) of the blade, pinch the knife where it meets the pit. The pit should, with little convincing, pop away from the knife blade.

 

Use a butter knife to make slices in the avocados at even intervals from end to end without slicing through the skin.  Rotate the avocado 90° and use the knife to cut across the slices you already made to create a grid.

Grid in process.

Grid in process.

The completed grid.  Ready to eat!

The completed grid. Ready to eat!

Insert a serving spoon between the skin and flesh of the avocado.

In one side...

In one side...

Follow the contours of the avocado with the spoon down to the base of the avocado and up and out the other side.

...And out the other.

...And out the other.

The perfect cubes of avocado should come easily away from the skin.  Add to the salad with the cilantro, pour the dressing over top, toss and serve immediately!

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...And this is where I really regretted not switching to a larger bowl. Ah well. We live with our choices, eh?

I ate half of this before it made its way to the table.  It's addictive like that.

I ate half of this before it made its way to the table. It's addictive like that.

So good.  So easy.  So... summery!

So good. So easy. So... summery!

Leftovers can be refrigerated for a day or two and will taste wonderful, but the avocado will likely discolor.  It’s still good to eat, just not quite as pretty!