I promise that this will not become a weather blog, but I do find myself almost literally swinging the way the wind blows during this predictably schizophrenic Alabama spring.

This week it went from 80 degrees to a hard freeze in the span of 24 hours, and even though I heard a lot of lamenting of respiratory illness and lauding of the Farmer's Almanac, I rather relished the opportunity to indulge in one last soup of the season.

(There are people who are chilled-soup people in summer, and I respect them, but I much prefer a piping-hot bowl of goodness when it's cold outside.)

I'm calling this one Chile Relleno Soup because that's what it's inspired by and essentially what it is, but I debated whether to saddle it with that name—there's a restaurant near me that serves what they call "Reuben Soup," and I've often felt that there is something vaguely off-putting about the sound of pureed sandwich.

The bright, tangy, soupy base here is blended until smooth, but there is still lots of hearty chunkiness about it from the beef and beans. The protein here is completely optional and flexible—this could easily be vegetarian or feature chicken or shrimp as the meat; just use whatever you like in your chile rellenos!

In typical fashion, I had no solid sense of where this recipe was going when I arrived at the grocery store, so the tomatillos were an impulse buy. They turned out to be the absolute stars of this flavor profile, though, giving a proper punch of acidity that is even more beautifully brightened if you take the time to spritz your serving with a squeeze of lime. (Save your pennies, if you can; limes are puny and pricey these days.)

This bowl calls for more than a whispery sprinkling of cheese. You want, as Dr. Niles Crane once put it, "a full-throated shout." (I do love Frasier.) My peppers were brilliantly peppery but still mild, so I dusted the cheese with a pinch of cayenne, which gave things a nice heat and prevented the cheese from clumping together in the soup. Half of my DNA comes straight from Wisconsin, so I am not ever picky about cheese, but I do think Monterey Jack is the ideal choice here. It was just perfect.

As an aside, that bunch of cilantro in the background represents something I discovered recently, which is that my herbs last much longer if I put them in a tall, narrow glass with about an inch of water at the bottom and do not refrigerate them. They thrive like cut flowers, which, der I suppose they are. Sure, that seems like the kind of thing it should take a person 34 years to figure out.

Enjoy!


Chile Relleno Soup

4 poblano peppers

2 serrano peppers
4 tomatillos

1 pound (93%) lean ground beef

1 tablespoon cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder

Kosher salt

Black pepper
1 bunch green onions, chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup fresh cilantro leaves
4 cups fat-free, low-sodium beef broth

1 (15-ounce) can low-sodium pinto beans, drained and rinsed

4 ounces sour cream
4 ounces Monterey Jack cheese, grated
Ground red pepper (optional)
Lime wedges
Garnish: fresh cilantro leaves

1. Preheat broiler. Place first 3 ingredients on a baking sheet or broiler pan; broil, turning once, until skins are charred. Remove peppers and tomatillos to a bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Let stand 10 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, heat a Dutch oven over medium-high heat; add beef, cumin, chili powder, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and ½ teaspoon black pepper, and cook, stirring occasionally, until beef is cooked through. Remove from Dutch oven with a slotted spoon, and set aside.

3. Remove skins, seeds, and stems from peppers. Return Dutch oven to stove over medium heat; add green onions, peppers, and tomatillos, and cook 3 to 4 minutes or until onions begin to brown. Season with kosher salt and black pepper. Stir in garlic and cilantro leaves, cook 1 more minute.

4. Stir in 2 cups beef broth and ¼ cup pinto beans; puree mixture with an immersion blender until smooth. Stir in remaining 2 cups beef broth and remaining beans; whisk in sour cream until fully incorporated. Stir in reserved beef, and simmer until heated through.

5. Toss cheese with red pepper, if desired. Serve soup with cheese and lime wedges; garnish, if desired. Makes 4 servings.

 

I had every intention of beginning this post with, "A few months ago, I pinned ... " And then I revisited my Pinterest yum board and realized I pinned this recipe a year ago. Which is just proof that I have no concept of time and good lord where did 2013 go?

When I pinned this recipe a year ago, I commented that it would be a great thing to try for my first attempt at slow cooking, should I ever procure a slow cooker.

And then I did procure a slow cooker, a Christmas gift from my dad and his husband, almost a year ago, and I developed an unhealthy fear of ... cooking things slowly.

Partly I think that's because I am not really familiar with slow cooker recipes, so I didn't know how to recognize a good one when I saw one, partly because I'm generally more a fan of recipes that have lots of fun but easy, therapeutic steps, and partly because I have a healthy fear of burning my house down.

Yes I know that you are statistically pretty unlikely to burn down your house with a Crock Pot, but I've always been a little ahead of the curve, accident-prone-wise.

This past Saturday's forecast called for a rainy half day and lots of people in my life who I count on to entertain me being busy or asleep, so I dragged my wilted Friday afternoon self to the grocery store and prepared for my maiden voyage.

Personally, I appreciated the prep work this dish required, even though I understand why the typical Crock Pot dump-and-cook approach is considered extremely valuable among the slow cooker set. What I enjoyed most about my first slow-cooking experience is that I got to do all of the things I like about being in the kitchen—chopping, whisking, mincing, peeling (well, not peeling so much; my knuckle was not the biggest fan of that part; see above re: accident prone)—but not doing the cooking myself made it feel a little bit like a magic trick. Insert ingredients, abracadabra, and presto! Dinner.

I made some adjustments to the original formula—I forgot the coconut milk, so I substituted what I had on hand, which was heavy cream. (Full disclosure: On my tombstone, it shall read, "Here lies K. She forgot one ingredient.) I also don't have access to quick-cooking tapioca, so I subbed cornstarch as a thickener.

I really liked the tenderness of the chicken and the hint of curry and peanut butter, but after five and a half hours of cooking, some of those the flavors needed a little brightness—the lime stands up beautifully (and only improves as leftovers), but a little sriracha and chopped roasted peanuts give the heat and salt a little boost. For color and life, cilantro comes in super handy.

So big thanks to Love at Home for being my inspiration! I made a big meal with very little effort, and I didn't burn down the house. Just right for a rainy couch-bound day spent testing my mental health by watching too many episodes in a row of The Newsroom.

Enjoy!



Slow Cooker Thai Chicken and Rice

2 medium onions, thinly sliced
1½ cups sliced peeled carrots (about 3 medium)
1 small red bell pepper, thinly sliced
2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
¾ cup low-sodium, fat-free chicken broth
3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
½ teaspoon lime zest
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
3 teaspoons red curry paste
4 garlic cloves, minced
½ cup heavy cream
1 cup frozen peas
Hot cooked jasmine rice
Garnishes: sriracha, chopped roasted peanuts, fresh cilantro leaves 


1. Place first 3 ingredients in a slow cooker; top with chicken. Whisk together chicken broth and next 8 ingredients in a medium bowl until smooth. Pour over chicken and vegetables.

2. Cover slow cooker, and cook on low 5&frac12 hours. Stir in cream and peas; let stand, covered, 5 minutes.

3. Serve chicken mixture over hot cooked rice. Garnish, if desired. Makes 8 servings.

 

I have a particular talent for unsalading a salad, the sweet gift of turning something that is supposed to be healthfully holier-than-thou into a lovely mess of delicious calories. The Cobb salad is an ideal starting point for this sort of bastardization, in part because it doesn't do a very good job of masquerading as a salad in the first place. It's basically a deconstructed fatty sandwich. (I don't think I need to reiterate my love for the fatty sandwich.)

I have a soft spot for Cobb salad, too, standing out there yelling, "I'm a salad, I swear!" when it's really something you might make when you're in tears. Anyone who has ever thought that chicken and hard-boiled eggs are not enough without avocado and cheese and bacon on top is a) someone who has had some emotional wreckage and b) my kind of people.



Alas, my local market (once again) failed me, neglecting to stock half of the ingredients for a decent Cobb salad, and I was left trying to steer things in my favorite direction: south ... west ... ish?

I decided that if this salad was not—tragedy!—going to have the benefit of avocado, I'd replace it with a black bean/corn salsa. Having determined that beans + chicken + eggs + cheese was probably enough protein for my lithe form, I forwent the bacon.

(Or possibly, because I can't tolerate anything other than the apparently FANCY center-cut style, I'm just way too cheap to spend six bucks on bacon. True story. BaconIloveyou.)

After that, it was just a matter of gathering all my favorite South of the border flavors, or what I imagine them to be—red onion, cilantro, jalapeño—and after that ... well, things got a little crazy.

Because I was intoxicated by hunger while I was at the grocery store, I was too under the influence of my weaker brain cells to pass by the Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces. But no matter; I'm confidently reassured that calories don't stick when you're suffering the effects of rabid starvation.

But as I was staring at the little nuggets of yum in the bowl I'd poured half the bag into (portion control, people), I got a wild hair to crush some of them up with a mortar and pestle and crust the chicken in the crumbs.

I am nothing if not resourceful, and also determined to cover everything in my life with ranch. (Those of you who look REALLY REALLY closely will note that I had less than zero patience and/or attention span for the crushing, and mostly just slapped some gigantic pieces of pretzel all over the chicken.)

To be honest, I wasn't as thrilled with the results as I'd hoped. Yes, the pretzels gave the chicken a pleasantly crispety crunchy crust, but most of the salty buttermilky ranchy potential got lost in the cooking. I see absolutely no reason why you shouldn't have pretzel-crusted chicken on your path of salad destruction, but it's probably not ultimately worth the effort.

My advice? Just pour some ranch on top before eating. NO ONE HAS TO KNOW.



Composed Southwestern Cobb Salad with Pretzel-crusted Chicken
½ cup low-fat sour cream
1 jalapeño, seeded and diced
Salt, to taste
Pinch of granulated sugar
Hot sauce, to taste
½ cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves, divided
1 lime, divided
¼ (15-ounce) can low-sodium black beans, drained and rinsed
¼ cup frozen corn kernels, thawed
¼ cup diced red onion
Pinch of ground cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
½ chicken breast, pounded to an even thickness
½ cup Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces, crushed
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ head iceberg lettuce, chopped
¼ pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 ounce Monterey Jack cheese, grated
1 hard-boiled egg, sliced
Garnish: lime wedges

1. Combine first 5 ingredients, ¼ cup cilantro, and juice of ½ lime in a small bowl. Set aside.

2. Combine black beans, corn, onion, cumin, garlic powder, and juice of remaining ½ lime in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3. Dredge chicken breast in pretzel pieces. Heat oil in skillet over medium heat; cook chicken about 4 minutes on each side or until browned and cooked through.

4. Combine lettuce and remaining ¼ cup cilantro on a plate; top with reserved sour cream mixture. Arrange black bean mixture, tomatoes, cheese, egg, and chicken alongside lettuce. Garnish, if desired. Makes 1 serving.