Cajun Tomato Chicken

It's been a long time since my last update. This has due to an odd combination of vacation, busyness, and completely losing my appetite for a week. I almost didn't even get around to it tonight because a choral group I’m in was singing at a modern Latin American music festival. And by singing what I actually mean is humming this really slow, soft, and eerie piece, but nonetheless here I am.

Due to either a lack of imagination, or just plain laziness, or both, I followed a recipe almost exactly when making this tonight. The hallmark of the dish was some blackened Cajun spice blend that I even went ahead and got. Making the dish could not have been easier. The chicken tenderloin pieces were sautéed (I opted for peanut oil), and then the tomatoes and garlic just thrown right in the pan. I had put some salt and pepper and the Cajun spice on the chicken before beginning to cook them, and was generous with the spice again once everything was in the pan. The whole thing was cooked until the tomatoes were semi-soft and then served on top of hot angel hair pasta and topped with crumbled feta cheese. Done. The whole thing took like 20 minutes, and it was fabulous.

What if?

I’m on my spring break now, and am going to be traveling/volunteering, so there’s not going to be a food post this week. But there has been another topic I’ve wanted to talk about for a while. There are many verses in the Bible that I think imply so much more then a cursory glance would suggest. Most of the verses fit right into the narrative and are easy to read over. But if you’ll stop to think about them, you’d probably be surprised at what you’ll end up with. So without further ado, here are three of my favorites.

When Gideon arrived, there was a man telling a dream to his comrade; and he said, “I had a dream, and in it a cake of barley bread tumbled into the camp of Midian, and came to the tent, and struck it so that it fell; it turned upside down, and the tent collapsed.” And his comrade answered “This is no other than the sword of Gideon son of Joash, a man of Israel; into his hand God has given Midian and all the army.
Judges 7:13-14

Just take a moment visualize the dream. The camp of Midian is spread out on a plain, minding its own business, when a fearsome loaf of bread suddenly appears careening towards it! I’d like to think it was a giant loaf, but we can’t say for sure. But this horrifying barley cake shows no quarter and wrecks havoc on the encampment, striking the tent with enough force to knock it flat. It makes about as much sense as most of my dreams. The guy’s buddy though, doesn’t miss a beat. With total conviction he states that obviously the dream must be referring to Gideon. I mean, come on, barley cake….Gideon….duh.

Gideon hadn’t exactly shown and exemplary faith coming up to this event, and the purpose of the dream was to assure him that they would indeed prevail. Given that, I’d like to think that the barley loaf was an example of divine whimsy. If we consider humor to be a good, laudable thing, then by the very nature of God we are required to ascribe it to Him. Have you ever imagined God laughing? Maybe we think that the universe as a whole is so serious that it would seem inappropriate. But try it. Not a short guffaw or a nasal chortle, but a deep, rich, resonant laugh that seems to build up from deep within and crescendo into a joyous roar that echoes off the walls of the universe. It’s a pleasant image to me. And if you’re still not convinced, just take a look at a platypus. There is something funky going on there.

Then Elisha prayed: “O LORD, please open his eyes that he may see.” So the LORD opened the eyes of the servant, and he saw; the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

2 Kings 6:17

We when look at the entirety of the Bible, we really don’t know that much about angels, and almost nothing about demons. Details about heaven are scarce or confusing, and details about hell virtually non-existent. I think that this is likely due to the fact that we can’t comprehend the spiritual realms in our current state. But this lack of information, perhaps coupled with a few hundred years of rationalism, has caused many Christians to at the most nominally believe that there are spiritual forces at work in their everyday lives. I honestly don’t know how much the actions of angels or demons may affect my life, but I am convinced it has to be more than most people grant. The magnitude of the Biblical conflict is far greater then all the wars of humans combined, but some would believe that Satan and his demons, if they even exist, are somehow not interested in interfering with Christians.

Our enemy is prowling, he is looking for someone to devour. If only we could see what was actually going on around us. If only we could see the spiritual struggle normally hidden from us. What would it look like? How would we act differently?

But the angel of the LORD said to him “Why do you ask my name? It is too wonderful.”

Judges 13:18

This was the verse that started this whole idea. The KJV translates the last two words ‘secret’, but almost every other translation uses ‘wonderful’. But what’s implied is not simply the name is wonderful, but rather that it is so wonderful it becomes incomprehensible, or secret. Now whether you believe the angel of the Lord is a pre-incarnate Christ, another theophany, or only a specific angel, doesn’t have any real bearing. The idea that something as simple as a name could be so magnificent, so marvelous, so glorious, so as to become unfathomable, should amaze us. For if the name is that splendid, then what of the Person to whom it belongs? Or the place where He dwells?

What if the most beautiful sunset since creation was only the smallest dot on an infinite canvas? What if the greatest symphony ever written was only the least note in an eternal opus? And what if the artist and the composer loved you? What then?

Pepperoni Chicken Rolls

So after my recent advances into new territory, I thought this week I'd do something a little closer to home for me. Something with pasta, chicken, cheese, and as it turns out, pepperoni. I actually really like pepperoni, but never see it except on a pizza. I just don't normally think about cooking with it. But that has all changed with this somewhat typical stuffed chicken breast dish.

The chicken breasts were halved and pounded thin, and treated to a sprinkling of salt, pepper, basil, and oregano. Slices of pepperoni were laid on the chicken, covered with a slice of mozzarella cheese, and more pepperoni placed on top. The chicken was then rolled up and secured with a toothpick. After being coated lightly in butter, the rolls were dredged in an Italian bread crumb mix, and placed in a baking dish. A generous amount of marinara sauce was poured over the chicken, along with a few more pepperoni slices, and the baking dish went into the oven for about 40 minutes. Upon exit, it was served on top of fettucini, which is probably too wide for the marinara, but I'm partial to fettucini, so I used it anyway.

I really enjoyed eating the results. It's very much akin to a chicken cordon bleu I've made, but with different meat and cheese stuffing, and with the sauce. I definitely appreciated the pepperoni, and am going to be looking for excuses to include it in some recipes in the future.

Tarragon Tuna Steaks

I don't really like fish. I suppose I don't have a decent reason for it, just the same one I have for olives or lima beans, I just don't like them. But over the last year or so I've had some rather enjoyable dining experiences starring aquatic creatures, so when I saw that tuna steaks were on sale, a crazy thought shot through my head. I tried to talk myself out of it, I really did. But in the end my desire to try something new was too strong, and I bought fresh fish for the first time ever.

My method of preperation was simple, perhaps overly simple given the fact that I knew I wasn't a fan of fish to begin with. The steaks marinated overnight in olive oil, rice vinegar, garlic, pepper, and lots and lots of tarragon. I spent a good deal of time reading about cooking tuna steaks because I found widespread discrepancies as to what degree of doneness the tuna should be cooked to, ranging from very rare to well done. But given that I knew that raw tuna was safe to eat, I thought I'd aim for about medium-rare, with a nice red center. The steaks ended up being in the skillet for about 2.5 minutes on each side, and I think that landed somewhere in the realm of medium to medium-rare. I seem to have a tendency to overshoot my target by a bit.

The verdict? I still don't like fish. But as fish go, this was pretty good, though I really should have made a sauce to go with it. I think next week I'm going back to something a little less radical for me.

Roasted Pork Sirloin with a Creamy Mustard and Onion Sauce

The closest I've ever come to having to worry about Valentine's Day was a few years ago when a professor jokingly, and unsuccessfully, attempted to set me up for the 14th with the girl sitting in front of me. Back in elementary school the day used to be like a little version of Halloween. Everyone in the class exchanged valentines and the ones from the kids with the cool moms always had candy. But at some point boys began to realize that there might be more to girls than cooties, and Valentine's Day went swiftly downhill.

Yet despite my cynicism, I still wanted to do something to commemorate the 14th, so pictured above is my attempt to cut one of the pieces of pork into the shape of a heart. These cuts are from the sirloin, which is considerably less lean than the center loin. The herb rub looks simliar to two weeks ago, but this time it was simply dry mustard, salt and pepper, and rosemary. The pork was browned on both sides, just about 30 seconds each, and then the whole skillet went into a 400 degree oven for about 5 minutes.

Pulling it out of the oven, I removed the meat and began to sauté some onions and scallions, managing to both burn my hand on the iron-cast skillet as well as set off the fire alarm. The pan sauce was finished by deglazing with chicken stock and adding dijon mustard, letting the sauce reduce, then stirring in some sour cream at the end.

I thought the sirloin was more flavorful than the center loin, but the sauce was just fantastic. It's somewhat simliar to the sauce for beef stroganoff, only with enough djion mustard to clear your sinuses for a week.

Cashew Chicken

Someone once pointed out to me that on the competative cooking show Iron Chef, the chefs always said the same thing when they were asked what their strategy was in preparing their dishes. The answer was always "I tried to accentutae the natural flavor of the (whatever food the show was about)" Now this makes sense when talking about venison or lamb or swordfish or many things. But could one ever say it about chicken? The natural flavor of chicken? Does chicken taste like everything? Or does everything taste like chicken? Or does chicken just taste like nothing and manage to accomplish both at the same time?

Of all the meats we eat, chicken seems to have least distinctive flavor of its own. It's perhaps why the little bird is completely left out of my book on meat, or why poor Gallus gallus probably doesn't feature prominently in the signature dish of any famous chef. Yet chicken is a staple all the world over, picking up flavor from whatever it's cooked in or with.

My chicken tonight picked up its flavor from a marinade of peanut oil, soy sauce, lots of chili powder, ginger and garlic. Naturally it was then sautéed, (one of these days I'm going to get around to using an oven, I promise), and set aside while the cashews boiled a bit, and the onions and scallions had their turn in the skillet. Then everything got thrown together and piled on top of rice. As planned, the marinade gave the chicken a much fuller taste then it would have on it's own, and who doesn't like cashews?

If anyone has noticed my new-found regularity yet infrequency in posting, most of it is due to a busier semester that cuts down on my nights available to cook. That as well as the fact that cooking big meals for only yourself can be moderately depressing, particularly around this time of year. But next week I think I'll give pork another shot, I still have to work on that cooking time..

Sautéed Pork Loin in Tangy Orange Sauce

I've wanted to make pork loin for a long time, but never have, probably because it was never on sale. I finally decided I didn't care anymore and picked this recipe out of the my meat book I got for Christmas. The pork here is a cut from the center loin and I put it through a herb rub of basil, rosemary, oregano, garlic salt, pepper and tarragon. Tarragon wasn't actually in the recipe, but I never get to use it very much, so I just threw it in there. The pork was then panfried on both sides, and cooked covered for just a few minutes. The meat book laments continously about how pork is universally overcooked, promising that trichinosis is killed at 137 F, and therefore slightly pink is ok, but I still may have gone a little too far, as I didn't see any pink at all.

The leftover drippings were used to make the pan sauce, which was supposed to consist of onion, orange juice, lemon juice, orange marmalade, and chicken stock. However I have a rather annoying habit of making up a grocery list so I don't forget anything, then forgetting to take the list with me. Therefore when I got to the store I was left to the mercy of my memory, which as you may guess from the previous sentence, has some gaps. Luckily I had some chicken bouillon, which I added to boiling water to replace the chicken stock. In anycase, the onions were sautéed in the drippings, then all the other ingredients added and the sauce boiled and reduced. At the very end I added some corn starch to thicken it some.

In the end I'm glad I decided to splurge, for though the pork lion may have been cooked a little longer than necessary, it wasn't dry, and the orange sauce turned out wonderful. I have enough pork to cook it again tomorrow night, so I can take another shot at getting the cooking time down.

Plus now I have extra orange juice, which I love to drink, but never buy, because well, you can guess.