A blatant attempt at plagiarism

The Chief Taster will, whenever the opportunity presents itself, order the Chicken and Wild Rice Soup at Panera.  It's not a difficult pattern to discern, if you spend as much time in line behind her at Panera as I do.  When I found a Wild Rice Soup recipe in Betty Crocker's Culinary Compendium, I decided it couldn't be that hard to adapt it in an attempt to copy one of the Chief Taster's chief tastes.  Even if I hadn't actually had that particular soup in many years.

Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice Soup
1/4 C butter
3/4 lb (I don't remember exactly how much I used, but long after faking my through it, I saw a note in the cookbook to use "4 Cups" cooked chicken for the meaty version) chicken thighs, cut into bite-size pieces
4 mediums stalks celery, sliced (2 C)
2 medium carrots, coarsely shredded (2 C.  When I see "coarsely shredded" applied to carrots, I peel them, then turn back to my ingredient bowl and keep using the peeler to whittle the carrot to nothing, eating the stumps when they get too small to hold without losing bits of my fingers to the peeler)
1 large onion, chopped (1 C)
1 C chopped green bell pepper
1/4 C plus 2 T flour
1 t salt
1/2 t pepper
3 C cooked wild rice (be sure to cook it!)
2 C water
2 cans (10.5 oz each) condensed chicken broth
3 C half and half
2/3 C slivered almonds, toasted (optional)
1/2 C chopped fresh parsley

I added one or two of Dad's Mystery Peppers to this, too, but don't tell the Chief Taster.

• In 4-qt saucepan or Dutch oven, melt butter over medium-high heat.  Add chicken and cook until no longer pink.  Add veggies and cook about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until crisp-tender.
• Stir in flour, salt, and pepper.  Stir in wild rice, water, and broth (I couldn't find cans of condensed chicken broth, so I just made broth with bouillon and omitted the extra water).  Heat to boiling, reduce heat, cover and simmer 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
• Remember those slivered almonds?  If you want them toasted, toss them in a small, heavy skillet (I used a little cast iron skillet, but I'm partial to my Lodge cookware whenever applicable) over medium-high heat.  Give the pan a shake and flip frequently to prevent burning.  When the almonds are turning golden brown, remove from heat, but keep shaking the pan occasionally, because the skillet is still hot, and the almonds will continue to cook until the skillet cools.
• Stir in half and half, almonds, and parsley.  Heat just until hot, but do not boil.

Next time, I might try this in a bread bowl.

My notes recommend adding croutons, but toast or crackers would do just as well.  I like that crunch, but the soup was pretty good without it, too.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

I love that sentence.

I also love buffalo hash, which we usually make with beef (and, one time, elk), because it is more readily available and affordable than its larger, more hirsute cousin.

canola oil
kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper to taste
3/4 lb cooked buffalo meat, in small cubes
3 small potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 large carrot cut in 1/4 inch rounds
1/2 C green bell pepper, diced
1/2 C red bell pepper, diced
1 small onion, large dice
1 C corn kernels
1/2 C salted and roasted sunflower seeds
1/4 C ketchup
1/4 C coarse ground prepared mustard

The cookbook says to dump everything in a large skillet and cook, but I start with raw meat, so I cook that first, then add everything else.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until potatoes are done (give yourself half an hour of cooking time to be safe).  Remove from heat and allow flavors to blend (and food to cool) for 5 minutes before serving.  The book suggests
serving with fresh bread and pickles, and I have no reason to argue that point.

Half cup empty

This is what my 1/2 cup looked like two years ago.

The handle snapped off when I was washing it, which I suppose is better than when it might have spilled something messy all over my counter, but still a serious pain for me.  Luckily, at that time I was working in Oregon, and one of my main responsibilities was working closely with several local shops to get parts made for our little R&D group.  One of my usual contacts was a guy who ran a small machining operation out of his home.  We'll call him Bob, because Bob seems like a good name for a guy who runs a machining operation out of his home, and it makes the narration of this story easier if we give him a name.  In case it is not clear, "Bob" was not really Bob's name.

Bob had a Ford Thunderbird in his garage, and if I knew more about cars, I could tell you what year, but I'm not that kind of expert.  I do know that he was working on restoring that car the entire time I knew him, and a few months before I left Oregon, he finished the job.  Like I said, I don't know much about cars, but I can tell you that T-bird was beautiful, and purred like a kitten who could kick your ass.  The inside of his garage was papered with pages cut from old calendars of the sort car guys are likely to have: hot cars, often draped with bikini babes, sometimes with exotic backgrounds.

He told me once that he only took off work for two days: his birthday, and Veteran's Day (he had served, though I don't know when, or where, or in which branch), but I knew it wasn't true when he said it, because his shop closed each year for elk season, and occasionally when he went fishing in the mountains.  He would return from these trips with pictures to share of brook trout he had caught and released, or stories of the mountain lion they had heard near their camp.

When my measuring cup broke, I knew Bob could fix it--or that he would know who could.  As it turned out, he had a friend with a different type of welder repair the handle, but he never charged me for it.  This was about the time he found out I was leaving town, and he said it was a going-away present.

A year ago this week, Bob killed himself.

I don't know the manner, only that it was on the eve of his fiftieth birthday.  I found out a week later, and awkwardly searched the store for a condolence card for his wife.  We had met a couple times, and talked often on the phone when I called for Bob and he wasn't available.  One time, while giving my dad and his friend a tour of the Oregon coast, we happened upon Bob, his wife, and their grandson among the tidal pools at Haystack Rock.  They had driven there in his Thunderbird.

Bob was the one who told me about a unique butte, unmarked and devoid of trails in the National Forest land south of town.  From outside the butte, it looked like it summited in a barren expanse of lava rock, but when you climbed to the top, you found that the caldera was deep, and full of Ponderosa pines, but until you got to the top, you still couldn't see the towering trees in their secret grove.  I took Dad there once--we had to try twice that week to find it, but we did, and it was worth the effort.

I considered him a friend.  I'd tell him about my bike rides, and learning to ski.  He'd show me his invention to hold a fishing line in the ground at adjustable angles, or tell me about interesting projects he had for other clients.  Every time I spoke to him, he was upbeat and smiling.  I couldn't figure out why he had done it.  Neither could any of my former co-workers.

Some time after I moved to Virginia, the handle broke off my 1 Cup measure.  I put the handle in a drawer and kept using the cup, trying to keep my fingers clean and dry when they go into the flour, or sugar, or cornmeal.  I keep thinking that I should either replace it or repair it, but I no longer know a machinist.

Every time I use it, I think of Bob.  Every time, I wonder why he killed himself.  Every time, I feel bad for his wife.

Then I wash the cup, and put it back in the cabinet, and try to think about my next chore.  I try not to think about how much harder it must be for her.  I still wonder why he did it.

I know this post is not uplifting, and it's not even about food, but it is a story about the things I use to make my food, and what I think about when I cook.  There are items in every life that carry stories with them.  Some day, I may end up replacing that measuring cup, but until then, I keep thinking of Bob, and even though it hurts a little, I feel like that's reason enough to keep using the cup with the broken handle.

A delicious way to spend an afternoon

A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, the Chief Taster drove us to the bookstore because she wanted to try more Mediterranean food, and thought we should get a Mediterranean cookbook.  I (correctly) took this to mean "I want you to cook me some Mediterranean food," but I was ok with that, because it sounded pretty good to me, too.

When I lived in Oregon, I had an Iranian friend who was in the same hiking group as me.  I guess I still have an Iranian friend, but I don't get to see her as often now.  One night, maybe a month or so before I left town, she had me over for dinner with a couple other mutual friends.  Her mom, a venerable woman who spoke slightly more English than I speak Iranian (I currently know one word--tahdeeg--and have forgotten everything else they taught me that night.), cooked an amazing meal of lamb stew and rice.  It remains the best Persian food I've ever had, and it sparked my interest in the cuisine of my friend's homeland.

my tahdeeg; not as good as my friend's mom's, but still tasty

We closely examined several books on Mediterranean food before finding one we liked.  If you'd like to try this dish or any other from the region, just go buy the book.  This post (and any others derived from Kehdy's recipes) won't do the material justice, and her pictures are prettier than mine.

Before leaving for work one day after we made our purchase, the Chief Taster requested Jeweled Rice for dinner with my brother's Honey Butter Glazed Salmon, a long-time favorite of hers.  I agreed, and luckily I started early, because it was much more time-consuming than I initially realized.

To be fair, if I had planned more than 12 hours in advance, it would have been easier.  When I agreed to her menu choice, I didn't know that this recipe would first require me to tackle three others.

Advieh
1 T ground pistachios
1/2 t ground dried edible rose petals (I didn't use these, because I couldn't find them)
1/2 t saffron threads (I chopped them into smaller pieces)
1 t ground cardamom
1 t ground cinnamon

Full disclosure: I only realized after returning from the store that my cardamom was not in ground form, so I had to grind it myself, just like the pistachios.  Naturally, we don't have a mortar and pestle, so I had to use a narrow jar and a small bowl, hoping the entire time that I wouldn't break either one and drive broken glass into my hand.  Mix everything together.  Store in an airtight container up to 3 months.

Saffron Liquid (makes 1 T)
Toast 10 saffron threads in heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat for 30 seconds, until fragrant, shaking pan often.  Transfer to a mortar and allow to cool 1 to 2 minutes before grinding to powder.  Mix ground saffron with 1 T boiling water and set aside to cool at least one hour, until rich orange hue appears.

Parboiled Rice
2 C basmati rice
3 T sea salt

1. Wash the rice in five or six changes of water, until water runs clear.  Hopefully you have a colander or sieve that will work well for this, because I didn't, and had to try very hard to not spill rice from my bowl while dumping out the water.  It was a real pain to wash the rice my way.
2. Pour 4 C warm water into a large bowl with 1 T salt.  Add rice and leave to soak no more than 30 minutes, running your fingers through every so often to loosen the grains.  Drain rice and rinse under warm water.
3. Pour 5 1/2 C water into large saucepan with remaining salt.  Bring to a boil and stir in well-strained rice.  Return to a boil and cook over high heat, uncovered, just over three minutes, until grains are soft outside but still firm in the middle.  Do not stir rice again.
4. Drain parboiled rice in a strainer and rinse with lukewarm water, tossing gently to remove excess moisture and separate the grains.  Parboiled rice can be stored in the fridge up to 3 days.  Return to room temperature before using in recipe.

Now the main event (a fair assessment, since this gorgeous side dish required far more effort than the entree):

Jeweled Rice

1/4 C dried currants

1 C dried barberries or cranberries

1 bitter orange, such as a Seville (I skipped this entirely)

3/4 C slivered almonds

1/2 C shelled pistachios, halved

1 T finely chopped mint leaves

5 T sunflower oil

1 recipe quantity Parboiled Rice

1 t Advieh

4 T unsalted butter

2 T Saffron Liquid

• Soak the currants in water 10 minutes.  Soak cranberries in a separate bowl 5 minutes.  Drain both and pat dry separately.
• (I skipped the orange, so I'm skipping transcription of the orange step.  If you want to get the recipe right, buy the book)

This picture illustrates some of the pretty ingredients, and the third way I screwed up this recipe.

• Reserve 1 T each of the slivered almonds, pistachios, and currants.  Combine the remainder of each with the mint.

The "jewels" of the jeweled rice.

• Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat until sizzling.  Spoon 4-5 T of rice across bottom of pan to cover.  Sprinkle 1 T of fruit and nut mixture over rice, then sprinkle in a pinch of advieh.  Continue adding layers, building a dome.  Finish with a layer of rice.  Don't dump the rice in, because it will compress, and the final result will not be as light.

building layers

• Using the handle of a wooden spoon (or in my case, a honey dipper), make three holes in the rice all the way to the bottom of the pan.  This will help the tahdeeg, or crisp base, to form.
• Melt half the butter in a small pan.  Add saffron liquid and 2 T water and mix well.  Pour over rice.
• Wrap the saucepan lid with a clean dishtowel and tie it tightly at the handle.  Use it to cover the pot as tightly as you can so steam does not escape.  (The dish towel keeps moisture from dripping into rice, making it soggy.  I didn't have enough towel to tie, so I used a big binder clip we usually employ to close bags of chips)  Cook the rice over medium heat 2-3 minutes, until you see puffs of steam escaping the lid, then reduce heat to low and cook, covered, 20 to 25 minutes.

• Meanwhile, melt remaining butter in saucepan, add soaked cranberries, and fry, stirring often, 3-4 minutes.  Remove from heat and set aside for serving.  (I completely forgot this step, because I had mixed the berries earlier before mixing them with the nuts.  I think the complexity and unfamiliarity of the recipe had me a little flustered, but my result was still tasty, so I don't care)
• Gently spoon rice from pan and sprinkle into a dome on a serving plate, or tip pan and spill rice into a  mound.  Use a spatula to loosen tahdeeg and flip it onto the serving plate.  Decorate rice with reserved nuts and berries and the fried cranberries.

Jeweled rice, with some tasty salmon lurking in the background.  It looked more delicious in person.

My Persian friend approved of my efforts, although she only had the pictures I posted online by which to judge.  The Chief Taster raved about it, even after I told her the four or five separate ways I had screwed up the recipe.  I would like to make it again, maybe even often enough that I actually get good at it and feel a little more confident about the endeavor, but next time I'll have a better idea of how to time things.  And now, so will you.