Category Archives: meat

Visiting California | Turkey Chili with White Beans

March 13, 2012 –

I’m in a new room right now. It’s nearly empty but for this computer and the table at which I’m sitting. It’s refreshing. It’s different. The only thing that is the least bit familiar is this computer and the pitter patter of rain on the windows.

The rain was sort of a surprise this morning. It followed so closely on the heels of an entire week of sunshine here in California. I didn’t welcome it either. My body and mind were not nearly ready to let go of the warmth. I suppose, however, it’s a good thing. I needed to write and there is no better environment for this task. I know how to write in the rain. I know how to do lots of things in the rain. I’m sort of an expert at being soaking wet after living in Seattle for so many years.

Turkey Chili with white beans Recipe

This past week was wonderful. Really wonderful. Maeve slept through the night the very night we landed in this fair state. She continues to do so. I think this place agrees with her. We found her a vintage train set at a rummage sale in Sausalito. We hiked through the Marin Headlands and watched droves of hummingbirds defy gravity. We took Maeve to the playground where I used to play as a girl. She was thrilled to find a bird taking a bath in a fountain. She also discovered a brand new slide, sandbox, and swingset. And, despite a bout in the emergency room for a case of conjunctivitis, she is full of joy and wonder. There are so many new things to see and do.

I can’t say I cooked a great deal since we arrived here, but I did manage to make this chili. In fact, it’s sort of hard to believe I’m mentioning it here for the first time. This was the season of chili in our home. I am obsessed with the stuff. And, in particular, I’m obsessed with this recipe for turkey chili with white beans. Oh sure, I tried several other recipes this winter. I even tried a recipe for lamb chili. That was good. In fact, all the recipes were good. Some of them even managed to rise to the level of deliciousness. However, not a single one of those heaping bowls of beans and meat managed to come close to this recipe. What makes it so special is the perfect combination of spices. This turkey chili is spiced with hints of cumin, cinnamon, and cocoa powder. Yes, cocoa powder! The white beans are mild and tender. They nearly melt in your mouth as they marry so beautifully with the hunks of lean turkey meat.

This chili boasts a wonderfully complex mix of flavors you will love. You might even thank me because this one is easy. I mean it. The ease with which you can throw together this meal is unfathomable. The pay-off is extraordinary.

The season for chili isn’t over, my friends. I’m just getting started.

Turkey Chili with white beans Recipe

Turkey White Bean Chili

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

2 medium onions, chopped

1 and 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano

1 and 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 and 1/2 pounds lean ground turkey

1/4 cup chili powder

2 bay leaves

1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder

1 and 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes

3 cups beef stock or canned beef broth

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

3 15-ounce cans small white beans, rinsed, drained

Chopped fresh cilantro

Plain low-fat yogurt or light sour cream

Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add onions; sauté until light brown and tender, about 10 minutes. Add oregano and cumin; stir 1 minute. Increase heat to medium-high. Add turkey; stir until no longer pink, breaking up with back of spoon. Stir in chili powder, bay leaves, cocoa powder, salt and cinnamon. Add tomatoes with their juices, breaking up with back of spoon. Mix in stock and tomato sauce. Bring to boil.

Reduce heat; simmer 45 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add beans to chili and simmer until flavors blend, about 10 minutes longer. Discard bay leaves. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over medium-low heat before continuing.)

Ladle chili into bowls. Garnish with cilantro and sour cream.

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Pasta with Greek Kima | No Meatballs

February 23, 2012 –

I might boil a door knob if I thought Maeve would eat it. She’s an unpredictable sort who loves bananas one week only to systematically chuck every bit of banana off her highchair tray the following week. Her doctor assures me this is normal behavior and to avoid battles with food. Offer. Offer. Offer. That’s her advice and I do my best to follow it.

I will admit, however, I frequently find myself at a loss not knowing what to cook for dinner or lunch. I desperately cling to any shred of evidence demonstrating Maeve’s heightened interest in a certain food. This is the situation I found myself in a few weeks ago following a dinner party during which Maeve ate an inordinate amount of meatballs.

My child loves meatballs! I nearly sang it from the mountaintops, but I restrained myself. There was a complication. The meatballs for which Maeve showed such intense affinity were Greek meatballs made from a family recipe. I knew I needed that recipe. I wasn’t about to mess around with another type of meatball. Too many foods end up in the trash that way.

I went straight to the source. Well, this is not exactly true. I went straight to the wife of the meatball maker. During a play date shortly after the dinner party, I mentioned to my friend how much Maeve loved her husband’s Greek meatballs. I asked if I could have the recipe. She didn’t think it would be an issue and told me she would ask.

A few hours later, I received an email with the bad news. No meatballs. My friend told me the conversation with her husband was brief. It went something like this:

Wife: Robin would like your meatball recipe.

Husband: Well, that’s too bad.

It stung, but I can’t say I was too surprised. I am a food writer. People aren’t always willing to share recipes with me. This is particularly true when it comes to family recipes. It doesn’t matter how desperate I seem or how many times I promise to keep a secret a secret. The family vaults are impenetrable.

Life went on and a few weeks passed meatball-free in our household. I practically forgot about the whole incident until I was wandering through the cookbook section of the library and saw this book. It’s a gorgeous book with some real heft. It’s the type of cookbook that is boundlessly promising with a elegant cover and a weightiness that feels so good in your palm. You just know it is brimming with inspiration. This wasn’t the first time I looked at this book. A few years ago, my friend Nathan interviewed Chef Psilakis for Time magazine. They even killed and grilled a goat together! I nearly bought the book then, but somehow it fell off my radar as so many cookbooks do.

I stood there admiring the book for a moment in the stacks. I wanted to tear into it right away, but I couldn’t. Just as I started to flip through the pages, there was a tug at my pant leg. A little redheaded fox was done with the library. It was time to go home.

Hours later after dinner, a bath, and bedtime stories, I finally got my chance to sit down with the cookbook. It was blissful and quiet. I dove in and was immediately hooked. This book isn’t just full of recipes, but stories as well. It’s my favorite way of exploring new foods and Chef Psilakis tells heaps of good stories about growing up in a Greek American household. He talks openly about his upbringing, his introduction to cooking and about each recipe and why it’s special. I was so fascinated I forgot about the meatballs.

Eventually, however, I made my way to the meatball recipe. I won’t lie. It looked superb, but the ingredient list was daunting. I took a deep breath and considered what tomorrow might look like for meatballs. I thought it might be possible until I noticed the recipe was characterized as “time consuming.” I didn’t read further. My evenings are complicated and often plagued by toddler meltdowns. It wasn’t going to happen. Besides, my the meatball madness faded over the course of several weeks. I didn’t feel so desperate anymore.

Instead, I found a recipe for a meat sauce (kima) that looked far more reasonable. It doesn’t cook in minutes, but most of the time spent making the kima is for the purpose of simmering it. I can think of no better way to spend your time than filling your house with the scent of slow cooked onions and meat in the most aromatic mixture of spices. Cinnamon? Nutmeg? Yes. That’s correct. You might think you have your standard meat sauce already. It’s the one you can cook up without looking at a book from a few tomatoes, spices, and some caramelized onions. That’s a good sauce. I know it is. This one is better. It’s different in that the flavors are sweet and tangy at the same time. And while a regular Bolognese sauce has the sweetness of the onions and possibly carrots, this sauce gets its sweetness from the spice mixture and a hint of sugar. Combine that with meat, fresh herbs, and vinegar, and you have a moutwatering dinner. Intoxicating, really. I might call this a new twist on your old Bolognese, but that would be sort of insulting. I’m sure Greek people eat kima all the time. It’s probably old hat. For me, however, it is new. I’m thrilled to have it in my arsenal.

I paired the kima sauce with penne, but you can pair it with what you like. In fact, I think it would probably be delicious over roasted potatoes as well. Maybe root vegetables? There are many possibilities and I would love to hear your thoughts.

I know you went into this thinking I was going to make you meatballs. I hope I didn’t crush your expectations. There isn’t much in this world that can replace a good hearty meatball, but this sauce is a hit nonetheless. And, Maeve’s verdict? You can see for yourself. I’m quite confident she forgot all about the meatballs.

Pasta with Kima

Makaronia me Kima

3 tablespoons blended oil )90 percent canola, 10 percent extra virgin olive oil)

1 Spanish onion or sweet onion, finely chopped

1 fresh bay leaf or 2 dried leaves

2 cinnamon sticks

1 and 1/2 pounds ground beef

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Pinch ground nutmeg

Pinch ground cloves (optional)

3 tablespoons tomato paste

2 quarts water

1 (28 ounce) can plum tomatoes, crushed slightly, with all the juices

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

1 teaspoon sugar

Kosher salt and cracked black pepper

1 pound rigatoni or penne

1/3 cup grated graviera cheese (substitute Jarlsberg)

Small handful torn fresh herbs such as dill mint, parsley, or rosemary

Warm a large, heavy pot over medium-high heat and add the blended oil. Wilt the onion with the bay leaves and cinnamon sticks for 3 to 5 minutes without browing. Add tgeh ground beef and brown thoroughly. Add the spices and tomato paste; stire for a minute or two. Add the water, tomatoes, vinegar, sugar, 2 tablespoons salt, and a generous grinding of pepper. Bring to a boil.

Reduce the heat, partially cover, and simmer for 60-65 minutes. Skim off any sum that rises at the geginning. Later on, skim off the fat once or twice. Remove the bay leaves and cinnamon sticks. The sauce should be meatey with lots of juice.

Cook the pasta, drain, and toss with the kima (meat sauce). Scatter with graviera and fresh herbs.

Adapted from How to Roast a Lamb

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Chicken B’Stilla | Expectations

August 30, 2011 –

I used to make all sorts of plans for the day or, for that matter, for the season. There were always thoughts of canning this or pickling that. I would want to see that movie or meet those new friends for drinks. There were dinner parties to attend and menus to plan.

Not so anymore.

I keep my expectations low. I never know how the day, the week, or the season might look. So when I saw the google streetview truck driving away from my home as I pulled into my driveway, I could only sigh. There was an exersaucer on the yellow and brittle front lawn, an old truck canopy in the driveway, the remnants of our home remodel strewn about along with an enormous pile of shoes by the front door.

I guess they don’t call ahead.

One can only hope the next homeowners aren’t so tech savvy and miss out on the delightful and likely semi permanent image of my messy house.

However, I can’t say I’m really upset over this. Like I said, I keep my expectation low and, therefore, the real magic happens when I unexpectedly accomplish something. This might take the form of a clean house or a clean child. It might also mean I pick up my phone and call the person I’ve been meaning to call forever. Or, in a very special case, I might actually cook a noteworthy meal.

That’s what happened this week. It was a pleasant and wonderful surprise. My little one slept as I flounced about the kitchen chopping this and preparing that. It was bliss. It worked out beautifully. Chicken B’stilla is a miraculous dish with sweet and savory notes. I think it’s perfect for any time of year, really. The chicken was moist and a touch sweet. The fresh spices were aromatic and the perfect balance. The filo dough gave it a touch of heartiness like a pot pie of more sophisticated measure. In short, we loved the chicken b’stilla and feasted upon it for several meals. No accompaniments are necessary either. Now that is truly a feat of greatness for a busy mama.

I didn’t get a great picture of the chicken b’stilla while it rested on the pretty plate with steam swirling about. I had it in mind to do that, but I was starved and had my fork in hand the moment it came out of the oven. Are you disappointed? I really hope not. It’s good to keep your expectations low around here.

Chicken B’Stilla

8 boneless chicken thighs, skinned

2 large onions, coarsely chopped

3 garlic cloves, split and chopped

3/4 tsp ground ginger

3/4 tsp ground coriander

3/4 tsp ground cinnamon

Big pinch of saffron threads

2 1/2 cups of chicken broth

Salt

3 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

3 large eggs

2 tbsp honey

Freshly ground pepper

1 tbsp chopped fresh thyme

1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

8 sheets filo (each 9×14 inches)

About 6 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

3 ounces sliced almonds (a scant cup), toasted and chopped

Cinnamon sugar and confectioner’s sugar, for dusting

Put the chicken pieces, onions, garlic, and spices into a Dutch oven or other large casserole and give everything a good stir. Cover and let the chicken marinate for one hour at room temperature.

Add the chicken broth and 1 tsp salt to the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat so that the liquid simmers, cover the pot, and cook for 1 hour, at which point the chicken should be tender.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken to a bowl. Strain the broth, saving both the liquid and the onions. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, cut the meat into small cubes or shred it.

Clean the Dutch oven and pour the broth back into it, or pour the broth into a medium saucepan. Whisk in the lemon juice, bring to a boil, and cook until you have 1 cup liquid. Reduce the heat to low.

Beat the eggs with honey, and, whisking all the while, pour into the broth. Heat, whisking constantly, until the sauce thickens enough that your whisk leaves tracks in it, about 5 minutes. Pull the pan from the heat and season the sauce with salt and pepper.

Sir the chicken and reserved onions into the sauce, along with the thyme and parsley.

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with foil.

Place your filo sheets between sheets of wax paper and cover with a kitchen towel. Brush a 9-inch round cake pan, one that’s 2 inches tall, with melted butter. Brush 1 sheet of filo with melted butter and center it in the pan, so that the excess hangs over the edges. Brush another sheet and press it into the pan so that it’s perpendicular to the first sheet and forms a plus sign. Place a third and then a fourth buttered sheet into the pan so that they form an X; the overhang from all the sheets should cover the edges of the pan.

Sprinkle half the almonds over the filo. Spoon in the saucy chicken, spreading it evenly across the pan, and top with the rest of the almonds. Fold the overhanging filo over the chicken.

Butter the remaining sheets of filo, stacking them one on top of the other on the work surface. Using a pot lid or the bottom of a tart pan as a guide, cut out a 10- to 11- circle. Center the circle over the cake pan and gently tuck the edge of the dough into the pan, working your way around it as though you were making a bed. Brush the top of the b’stilla with a little butter and sprinkle with some cinnamon sugar. Place the pan on the baking sheet.

Bake the b’stilla for 20 minute, then lower the temperature to 350 degrees and bake for 20 minutes more. If the top seems to be getting too brown at any point, cover it loosely with foil. Transfer the b’stilla to a cooling rack and let it rest for about 5 minutes before dusting it again, this time with confectioner’s sugar.

Lay a piece of parchment over a cutting board and have a serving platter at hand. Turn the b’stilla out onto the parchment-lined board and then invert it onto the serving platter, so that it’s right side up. Serve the b’stila now, cutting it into wedges, or serve it warm or at room temperature.

Adapted from Around My French Table

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Fresh Herb Meat Marinara | The Staples

April 29, 2011 –

It seems like yesterday I packed up an impressive collection of shoes, more than a couple fake Chanel jackets and several gingerly rolled posters of Pre-Raphaelite redheads. I was headed to college and I didn’t intend on returning home to California at any point during this lifetime. At the time, it didn’t matter whether I liked it here in Seattle or not. It was a city on the west coast and it wasn’t home. A two state buffer zone sounded perfect. I was so thrilled to start my new life I nearly raced off the stage during high school graduation. The only thing that stopped me was a terrible blistered sunburn dotting the back of my legs and four inch platform heels. Both things severely hampered my ability to walk, let alone run anywhere.

All this is really ancient history. However, the feelings of newness and wonder came flooding back to me last weekend as I chatted with my niece. She’s a freshman in college now. It’s truly hard to believe and quite interesting to behold. She’s still youthful, but just beginning to dip her toes into the adult world. Her excitement about her classes, her boyfriend, and her brand new apartment are simply contagious. She talks breathlessly about these subjects for hours on end with the kind of unbridled enthusiasm only a teenager can muster.

I love hearing about it all, but it’s especially fun to hear her talk about cooking for the first time. All signs suggest she is a budding foodie. She’s making curries. She’s cooking scrambled eggs with farm fresh eggs. She’s perfecting her cupcake recipe. And mishaps that would certainly test the patience of any wearied adult do not phase her in the least. She tells me the quiche she made with the graham cracker crust wasn’t half bad. The brownies that failed to set? Of course, they were still edible.

I beam when I hear her discuss these things. My transition into cooking was a bit slower. In the dorms, no longer restricted to my mother’s bulk purchased puffed rice cereal, I feasted on vats of sugared cereals. There was an omelet bar, pizza whenever I wished, and baked goods everywhere. It was heaven until it wasn’t. I gained weight. I felt sluggish. That’s when I realized it was closer to hell.

Once I had my own apartment, I was thrilled to begin cooking. However, I didn’t really know where to begin. I burned a lot things. I undercooked others. I bought processed foods and, for a time, lived on a near exclusive diet of marshmallows and diet coke. I’m not proud of this. If I had to do it again, I might work on the staples. You’ve really got to have a few foolproof recipes in your repertoire. These are the recipes you can whip up from your pantry or a quick trip to the market.

It never occurred to me to write about my basic meat marinara sauce until my conversation with my niece. Everyone needs a starting point and this meat marinara is an adaptable recipe. You don’t need to reinvent the wheel. What you need is a basic recipe. Once you have it under your belt, you can explore and get creative. You can adjust the seasoning. You can use different herbs at different times of the year. And, when summer bestows upon you a bounty of garden tomatoes, you can toss them into the mix or even roast them.

I make this recipe for meat marinara often. It’s great when I have little time or energy to do much more. It’s perfect for a budding foodie or a busy mom who wants nothing more than to avoid the jar of tomato sauce at the market.

Enjoy your weekend.

Meat Marinara Sauce

1 tablespoon olive oil

3 shallots, chopped (about 2/3 cup)

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

4 tablespoons fresh herbs, finely chopped (marjoram, rosemary, basil, and oregano)

2 cloves garlic

1 pound lean ground beef

1 teaspoon each (kosher salt, garlic salt, freshly cracked pepper)

1 28 ounce can of diced organic tomatoes*

Pour the olive oil into a large frying pan and heat on medium for about 2 minutes. Add the shallots and red pepper flakes. Cook until the shallots are translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and the herbs. Cook for another 2 minutes. Add the meat and break it up into the pan adding the the salt and pepper to it as you break it apart.

Cook the meat over medium heat until browned, turning often. This should take about 7-10 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes and their juices to the pan and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce to a simmer and cook for an additional 15 minutes.

Adjust seasoning to your liking.

Makes 4 healthy portions (perfect for a pound of pasta).

Serve immediately.

* Muir Glen makes a wonderful canned tomato.

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