Creamy Chicken and Asparagus on Toast

Here is yet another dish from 365: No Repeats (otherwise known as the Rachael Ray cookbook that I rely upon the most) that was utterly satisfying and yummy. I have combed through this particular cookbook many, MANY times, and often my eyes lit upon the recipe for "Creamy Chicken and Asparagus on Toast." Somehow I always felt the ingredient list was rather decadent, including Black Forest ham, chicken, half and half, and (my mouth is watering thinking of it), Gruyere cheese (Gruyere cheese, like rice cookers, deserves its own special post). Needless to say, after dismissing it time after time with healthy eating in mind, I finally decided that I must give in and try it.

One of the best parts of the dish is the Provence-like flavors that result in the combination of sauteed onions, thyme, garlic, and salt and pepper. This central element delicately permeates the rest of the dish, in a wonderful, non-overpowering way. After the aforementioned ingredients are sauteed (until the onions are translucent-the "rule" for sauteed onions), they are removed from the pan to make room for chicken breast, which is then nicely browned in preparation for the toasts.

The "toasts" are created from a single slender baguette, which is split in half lengthwise and then quartered into 4 roughly even portions. The recipe calls for scraping a bit of the extraneous bread from the cavity of the loaf and discarding it, but as I had a rather small baguette to begin with, I dispensed with this instruction and used all of my bread. Each piece is then buttered with a delicious compound butter of sorts, which I made in one of my trusty green ramekins by churning a cold chunk of butter with chopped flat leaf parsley and freshly ground pepper and salt. The bread is then placed into the oven until it is a light golden brown.

While the bread is toasting, the onion mixture is tossed back into the pan with the chicken and dusted with flour. A bit of white wine, chicken stock, and half and half are added to create a thick, creamy sauce. Bright green lengths of asparagus and chopped ham are then stirred in. The toasts are removed from the oven, and spoonfuls of the creamy chicken are lightly settled onto each large piece. Each "toast" is topped with a mixture of shredded Gruyere and bread crumbs. They are promptly shoved back into the oven to melt and brown the cheese.

While the final result may not be the most attractive dish I have ever made, appearance most certainly belies taste. The toasts are delicious, with a heavenly combination of flavors-a bitter bite of asparagus, salty ham, hearty chicken, creamy sauce, all topped with sharp Gruyere....hmmmmm! I'm almost tempted to make it this very evening!

Les Miserables

I usually pride myself on my unwillingness to "quit" a book that has proved difficult to get through or is prone to long digressions that distract the reader from the central plot. There were times last year when I feared that Les Miserables would meet that fate. The French classic is quite the tome, and while I knew from its earliest pages that it was beautifully written, and utterly deserving of its literary notoriety, it was no easy feat to finish.

I began the novel sometime in March, which I remember distinctly because I visited New York and Princeton then, and I was able to enjoy the reading on the commute that I always cherished when I lived in Manhattan. Needless to say, I continued to plod through it in fits and starts, finally turning to the last page on our family vacation to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving. I don't know that I have ever felt quite so victorious! Not only was I overwhelmed with a certain pride in myself for persevering, I was rewarded immensely by the emotionally satisfying conclusion and utter certainty that I had just finished one of the best novels that I had ever encountered.

The protagonist Jean Valjean will be forever cemented in my memory as an incredible example of humanity, a perfect representative of someone who has struggled against injustice and the inevitable turn of the soul towards blackness and triumphed over it, finding a way to reconcile terrible circumstances with a peaceful life. He is perfect proof for a myriad of life lessons: that one can forget past mistakes; that one can make life better, even if resources are few; that hard work and conscientiousness are virtues that will result in some rewards; that love is powerful enough for sustenance...

There are an abundance of passages and quotes from the novel that I remember stirring my heart while I read, but the few I am going to include now, from the conclusion, are worth cherishing forever.

These lines all occur in the final scenes of the book, when Cosette and Marius visit Valjean, discovering that he is on his deathbed.

"If you take me back, Monsieur Pontmercy, will that make me any different from the man I am? No. God thinks as you and I do, and he has not changed his mind. It is better for me to go. Death is a very sensible arrangement. God knows better than we do what is good for us. That you should be happy, Marius Pontmercy and Cosette, that youth should marry with the morning, that you two children should have lilac and nightingales around you, that your life should be like a lawn bathed in sunshine and glowing with enchantment; and that I, who am no longer good for anything, should now die, that is surely right."

"Because things do not always please us," said Valjean, "that is no reason for reproaching God."

"Cosette, the time has come for me to tell you your mother's name. It was Fantine. You must not forget it, Fantine, and you must bow your head whenever you speak it. She loved you greatly and she suffered greatly. She was as rich in sorrow as you are in happiness. That is how God evens things out. He watches us all from above and knows what he is doing among his splendid stars. And now I must leave you, my children. Love one another always. There is nothing else that matters in this world except love..."

Cosette and Marius fell on their knees on either side of him, stifling their tears. His hands rested on their heads, and did not move again. He lay back with his head turned up to the sky, and the light from the two candlesticks fell upon his face.

The significance of the candlesticks is worth noting. Jean Valjean, after being wrongly accused and serving prison time in the dreadful prison Toulon, escapes and is determined to start anew, despite the damage that has been wreaked upon his humanity while in prison. He is the beneficiary of the hospitality and kindness of a village bishop, the owner of the candlesticks. When Valjean leaves the home of the bishop his criminal urges overpower him and he takes the candlesticks, planning to pawn them for money. He is accidentally apprehended shortly after his departure, and the police take him straight to the bishop's home, demanding whether or not the candlesticks belong to him. The bishop immediately claims that he gave them to Jean Valjean. This generosity and forgiveness, an act of mercy, prove to instigate a rebirth in Jean Valjean's character, and truly make him the man that he turns out to be.

The quickest and the best!

I would be remiss in not posting about a recent dish that I discovered, one that is magnificent in its simplicity, taste, and speed of preparation. My beloved colleague, Teresa, stumbled upon it in the Austin newspaper. I hate not to officially acknowledge the recipe's author, but I have somehow misplaced the clipping. Teresa is always offering me wonderful ideas for cooking quick, delicious, family-friendly meals, and I love that we have been able to share our ideas with each other. She made this dish first, raved about it, and insisted that I try it. I'm copying the recipe here, exactly the way that I made it.


Salsa Shrimp

1 sack frozen shrimp (I'm able to buy this at HEB with relative ease-I'm guessing there's about 1 lb to 1/2 lbs of shrimp in each sack, and they're peeled and deveined)

3 tbsp. pine nuts

1-2 tbsp. EVOO

1 cup fresh salsa (I bought HEB's fresh salsa, and I would imagine that most grocery stores carry fresh salsas, usually found in the produce section)

Warm up the EVOO in a large skillet, medium to medium-high heat. Carefully add the shrimp (no need to defrost)and allow to cook through, about five minutes. Turn the shrimp midway through cooking. Once the shrimp have turned pink, add the cup of salsa and pine nuts. Let simmer, five to ten more minutes, or until you're ready to eat.

On the side, serve broccoli and brown rice. I use my rice cooker and steamer attachment to prepare the side items, but it's equally easy to prepare the broccoli in the microwave and use quick-cooking brown rice.

This dish is wonderfully simple, with a warm spiciness that is comforting and filling along with the bonus good feelings that one can't help but feel, knowing that every item you're eating is quite good for you! (Note: Shrimp have a high amount of cholesterol, so just avoid preparing this meal every night, though I PROMISE you'll be tempted!!)

A recent culinary exercise...

As usual, I made a new year's resolution to plan my meals in advance, make one exhaustive grocery trip each week, and resort to pizza delivery only on the weekends. Needless to say, I have not been as faithful to the resolution as I would like.

All is not lost, however! I have been much better at attempting recipes outside of the Rachael Ray spectrum. I have mixed feelings about this, as a large part of me feels absolutely no guilt at the fact that virtually my entire repertoire of recipes comes straight from Rachael Ray. I do, however, have an extensive and ever-growing selection of cookbooks, all of which I purchased because I could envision making many of the delicious-sounding recipes that I came across in them.

Mirin-glazed salmon (mentioned in my prior post), courtesy of Nigella Lawson, proved to be an extremely successful recipe, that I will most certainly repeat. There are not enough complimentary statements to be made about this dish; it was utterly fabulous! Large, gorgeous coral hunks of salmon were quickly marinated in a mixture of mirin (Japanese rice wine), tamari, and dark brown sugar, then placed in a very hot pan. I was frightened about this at first, as no I did not use any oil, and I was concerned about the sugar content, but it provided a lovely, brown crust on the salmon, which was cooked to perfection in only a matter of minutes. The glaze was finished off with a touch of rice wine vinegar, which was mixed with the leftover marinade and drizzled onto the salmon. The salmon was served with a side of lovely, fragrant jasmine rice, topped with thinly sliced scallions. I started the rice before I began the marinade (I could honestly write a separate post based completely on my newfound love for rice cookers).

This dish could easily have been served to impress company-it certainly felt luxurious for weeknight fare! Perhaps the best part of it all, beyond the irresistible, unmistakable taste of sweetly glazed salmon, was the time factor. It is literally a 20 minute meal. Certainly one of my very best, non-Rachael dinners.

I shall now get back to my menu planning, which is truly a large part of my weekend relaxation. Yes, I spend hours poring over cookbooks and issues of magazines determining the best possible combination of dinners for a two week period, trying to balance out pasta and fish, beef and chicken, figuring out which meals are better for springtime or possible soups for a potential cold front...one might think I would make a wonderful entertainer with detailed plans such as this! We shall see :)

Melancholy

I have to acknowledge that I'm feeling a little sad tonight, for a number of reasons. I'm having a "Jonah day", as Anne Shirley would say. I had to recollect the quote about tears from "Great Expectations."

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlaying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before-more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.

I felt a twinge of pride when I went to collect my copy of the old classic. It is quite worn, with many a crease in the book binding, and even a few yellowed pages threaten to fall. I used it in my first year of teaching, though I doubt my wild and wooly 10th graders were able to appreciate it. To be fair, they did an excellent job on my final project: a board game based on the characters and events of the book. It was exceptionally enjoyable to see such game titles as "Who Killed Orlick?"

To brighten my somber mood, I have been perusing my new bookbooks, "Nigella Express" and "Dave's Dinners." I received a Barnes and Noble giftcard for Christmas this year, which is really the ultimate gift for a bibliophile such as myself. I regularly read and was entertained by a blog throughout the previous year entitled oneyearproject.com whose goal was to go through Rachael Ray's 365: No Repeats, a Year of Deliciously Different Dinners, in order, cooking a new meal each day. I was impressed by the noble efforts of the couple-despite my love for Rachael Ray, I could never be committed enough to follow one cookbook for a year. Needless to say, the couple has decided to embark on anotheroneyearproject.com this time using the various works of Nigella Lawson. The first few recipes, which are from "Nigella Express", intrigued me, so I took a peek at the book today in the store. I have to admit, I was swayed by the glossy photographs and witty comments that Nigella provides, and I couldn't help but picking it out to add to my collection. I'm excited about it; with recipes such as chocolate croissants, croque monsieur bake, and glazed salmon, how can one not be tempted?

Despite my dreary day, I do take those words of Dickens to heart. Sometimes we need a few moments to dwell on our lives and the lives of others, to truly acquire a bit of "perspective." I should be aware of my "ingratitude." I have been greatly blessed, so much more than many others in the world. My hardships would seem insignificant and trivial to some, even though they seem monumental to me. I need to continually recall that everything happens for a reason, and that God has a hand in each daily moment of my life. So for now, "...I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise you forever for what you have done; in your name I will hope, for your name is good." (Psalm 52:8-9).

Pally Thompson

Well, I certainly didn't think I'd be THIS slow with my posts. I felt sure that I would be posting with a much greater frequency. I've been meaning to write for quite some time now with regards to an EXCELLENT book that I read over the summer, "Bobby Rex's Greatest Hit." My mom recommended it to me, and, as usual, her recommendation was absolutely sublime. Bobby Rex was one of the best books I've ever read, and certainly the highlight over the summer, despite my delving into the quality literature that was required for my literature course. I had to blog about it, including my favorite quotes. You know, the kind of quotes that seize your heart and wrench it a bit, but in a good way, because you know you've felt exactly what was described and you understand the feeling that the character is feeling COMPLETELY.

"Bobby Rex's Greatest Hit" tells the story of Pally Thompson, a small-town Southern girl who has never quite let go of the desire for something more, even though she's not too keen on departing from the comfortable happiness of the familiar North Carolina hamlet where she resides. Bobby Rex, of the pithy title, is the stereotypical high school hunk who is destined for greater things, namely, stardom in the country-western music world. When Bobby Rex releases a risque chart topper entitled "Pally Thompson", Pally is instantly plunged back into her memories of high school, introducing us to the good ol' boy boyfriend and the wild, spirited best friend (with an unusual Southern name, of course), all while building up the suspense about Bobby Rex-why would he write such a song if nothing ever happened between them? Whether the reader is left satisfied or wishing that Pally truly had found something greater in her life, you just can't help to appreciate the book, for the warmth and pathos that emanate throughout. Everyone can relate to Pally. To quote a recent movie preview for a chick flick that undoubtedly suffered in the box office, "High school is never over!"

One of my favorite parts of the book comes from a conversation that Pally has with her mother. Pally's father, Speedy, died an tragic, immature death, but Pally's mother has always allowed him to LIVE in the stories that she shared with her daughter. Here she shares with Pally her sentiments about Orfax (the North Carolina hamlet I mentioned previously) and why she hasn't left.

"Anyway-" She took a deep breath. "You could hear the train coming for miles: the Southern Crescent. First a low-down rumbling in the earth. The willow trees seemed to stop swishing. The crickets hushed up. The approach of that train was a serious event. The air was black and serious and still. It had a weight to it, then the faintest sort of tremble. When it began to smell sparky, we held our breaths in order to hear the train better. And always Speedy would whisper in my ear: "Hey, girl, let's hop it."

Sometimes I knew he wasn't joking. And the insistence in his voice gave me gooseflesh. "We'd have a big time." And he'd hug me so tight I'd feel winded.

"Where does the train go?" I recall asking him once.

"Oh, D.C., Baltimore, New York City, Boston-take your pick."

"What will we do when we get where we're going, Speedy?" I'd ask him, making a game.

He'd sweep a hand through his dark hair as if the gesture stirred up better thoughts. "Oh," he'd say, "we'll find us a first-class hotel and have them send us supper on a tray with lots and lots of pink champagne. Then, after we eat, if you're not too tired, we'll go dancing."

"But if we hop a train tonight, this very minute," I said, "I won't have my red high heels, the ones I like best for dancing. You know the shoes I mean."

Then, he'd consider everything we'd said, for a moment, and say, "Well, then we'll just have to find us some place that's got sawdust floors like Woody's Danceland. You don't need shoes to dance in sawdust. You don't even WANT shoes. And there's bound to be a place like Woody's in a great big town like New York or Boston. A place where everybody dances barefoot.

"Well," I'd say, "if we're going to ride the Southern Crescent all that distance just to scare up a place exactly like Woody's, why bother? Why not stay right here?"

And Speedy, who was nearly always agreeable, would hug me half to death and say, "Okay, we'll stay this time. But NEXT time we come to the depot, be sure to wear your red high heels."

Then the train would roar past like a solid wall of thunder and, in a way, I'd feel we'd barely escaped going. I'd say, "Whew!" and cling to Speedy, because there was something almost too thrilling about the Crescent plowing through all that sleepy farmland, something so full of risk that I felt lucky to have been spared.

Isn't that just beautiful, somehow? Next time, be sure to wear your red high heels? I love it. And here, another moment, after Bobby Rex finally hits the road and leaves Orfax behind.

I felt like I was in mourning. I sat on the stone-cold radiator in the bathroom and cried my eyes out. Now I knew he was impossible. Now the phone would never ring. Bobby Rex Moseley was one chance gone from my life, and it seemed that as you got older, what you lost, one by one, were chances. People talked about losing your youth, your health, your friends, love. But it all boiled down to losing the chances for those things.

I loved this book, can feel my heart warming as I reread the words...Mom really does know best!!!

saucy Jane

I was certainly accurate in judging that I would not be a regular poster or a fanatical blogger, but I did not intend to let months pass by before I wrote again. As I have been residing in sunny Palo Alto, California for the past six weeks, I have not had as frequent an opportunity to cook for myself. This is not to say that I haven't continued to have lovely food experiences. My mother-in-law, whom my husband and I have been residing with while he completes a summer internship, is a wonderful cook. Along with her natural ability and gastronomical talents, we have been fortunate to experience the bliss of a California garden. Fresh, tiny cherry tomatoes are readily avaiable in a large terracotta pot just outside the kitchen door, and one can hardly express the sheer pleasure of biting into one of them, especially in the mild heat of the day, when they burst into the mouth with a flood of warm juice. Alongside the tomato plants are pots for herbs, mainly basil, rosemary, thyme, mint, and cilantro. One of the dishes that my mother-in-law and I made together this summer was tabbouleh, and it was so wonderful to pluck the fresh mint leaves ourselves before adding them to the delicious grainy mixture of bulghur wheat, tomatoes, parsley, cucumbers, and lemon juice. Tabbouleh is something that is extremely easy to compose, and highly addictive and satisfying to eat. I have decided that I need to make it more often-it's so healthy, and it's also quite good piled on top of warm whole wheat pita bread. To revert back to my earlier discussion of a California garden, one of the absolute highlights of being in California is walking around the neighborhoods and seeing large oranges dangling precariously on orange trees and tiny olives starting to grow on olive trees. Among other glorious food items that simply grow in typical back yards here are figs and Meyer lemons.

I have been rereading "Jane Eyre" for an evening course that I've been taking at Stanford, and I'm quite impressed, again, by its feisty heroine. In more recent times, (due not in small part to the stirring film performance by Keira Knightley) Elizabeth Bennett has been lauded as an admirable heroine, and while I certainly do admire her, she is simply no Jane Eyre. Jane is not only independent and absolutely certain of her strength and character, she is of extremely tough and unshakeable moral fiber. Even from the very beginning of her life she was rather saucy. Her response to her ruthlessly degrading and cruel cousins:

"Don't talk about her, John: I told you not to go near her; she is not worthy of notice; I do not choose that either you or your sisters should associate with her." [words of Mrs. Reed, in reference to Jane] Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out suddenly, and without at all deliberating on my words,-'They are not fit to associate with me.' "

I adore that scene, and relish imagining the young Jane in my mind, most certainly acting in a very rude, though justified manner towards her caretakers.

I especially love Jane later on in the story, just before the elusive, aggressive, and not entire attractive Mr. Rochester professes his love and intentions for Jane. She believes him to be preparing for a marriage to the cold, gold-digging Blanche Ingram, and she will not stay around at Thornfield Hall to see such a dreadful thing happen.

" 'I tell you I must go!' I retorted, roused to something like passion. 'Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton? -a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? -You think wrong! -I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: -it is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal-as we are!"

So saucy, that Jane! I am no feminist, but I admire her unwillingness to ignore her feelings, her absolute embracing of the opportune chance that she had to tell Mr. Rochester exactly how she felt, with no regard for rules and societal norms of behavior. Later on, when we are exposed to the secret that Mr. Rochester has been harboring, we are again given a chance to admire Jane as she, quite without hesitating, "does the right thing" in leaving Thornfield Hall, unwilling to be Mr. Rochester's mistress or take part in an illegitimate marriage. There really aren't enough Jane Eyres in this world, enough of us who will shoulder the burden of the hard, but right road, and go through inevitably difficult circumstances in order to keep our own moral compass intact. So many people take the proverbial easy way out, compromising themselves all along the way. God never intended for our way to be simple. Just a few days ago, in my C.S. Lewis devotional, I read these words:

"As a great Christian writer (George MacDonald) pointed out, 'every father is pleased at the baby's first attempt to walk: no father would be satisfied with anything less than a firm, free, manly walk in a grown-up son.' In the same way, he said, 'God is easy to please, but hard to satisfy.' "

So I have made a lovely segue from "Jane Eyre" to C.S. Lewis! This is part of what I adore about classic literature-so much more attention was paid to what is good, and real, and true, about the struggle to live a Christian life.

Perhaps I will have cooked a new dish by my next post, which hopefully will not be sometime in October!