The weather in west Torrance is lovely at this time of year, if somewhat varied and unpredictable. Spring rains are abating rapidly, but gusty coastal winds and bouts of cloud cover can result in unseasonably cool temperatures (especially indoors, with all the breeze and none of the sun). Gradually, however, the days are warming. Temperatures aren’t likely to peak until the month of August, but they are expected to rise into the high 70s or low 80s by July. So Tyler and I are finishing the end of Spring cuisine with a warm, hearty meal—the likes of which we’ll probably not revisit again until the end of this year or the beginning of the next.

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The curious may wish to view my comparison of sauerbraten recipes, which I used extensively to develop a recipe of my own.

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Guest article by Tyler

Chili is a dish made from chiles that is wonderful to eat when you are chilly.

Chili is one of those dishes that nobody ever agrees on how to cook, so if you’ve ever cooked chili before you are guaranteed to hate this post and be very angry at me for all the mortal sins against southwestern gastronomy that I surely have committed in your eyes.

The reason nobody agrees how to cook it is because it is a dish of low origins. Originally, chili was a Mexican stew made from whatever meat was available, and heavily spiced with local hot chiles to hide the taste of the often spoiled meat. These days, thanks to the wonders of refrigeration, we no longer have to worry about covering up rancid flavors, but the spiciness of the chile peppers is still something that can be appreciated on its own merits.

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My previous article on beef stroganoff was outdated and in dire need of revision. So when Tyler sprung the "Thanksgiving surprise" and this week’s dinner plans were thrown into disarray, I reached for this ye old recipe and started hacking and slashing with my red correcting pen. I decided to stick with a slow cooker method (more commentary forthcoming on why I may not in the future). However, in this rendition, I incorporated rich semi-gelatinous white beef stock, dried and fresh mushrooms, blond roux, and freshly ground mustard seed.

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Occasionally, my mother served us "pigs in a blanket" for dinner—and no, I’m not speaking of pastry wrapped hot dogs or sausages! In our household, "pigs in a blanket" always meant meat rolled in whole cabbage leaves and simmered in a tomato-based sauce. I can’t imagine where Mom picked up the reference, since the term (when referring to cabbage rolls) originates from Slavic-influenced regions like Pennsylvania.

Regardless of what they’re called, cabbage rolls exist across Europe, parts of Asia, and parts of the U.S. which are heavily influenced by Eastern European immigrants. There are many variations on the recipe depending on the region of origin. Sometimes cabbage rolls are cooked in tomato juice. In other recipes, you’ll see a sour cream sauce. Occasionally, people use pickled cabbage leaves to wrap the meat or add citric acid salt (sour salt). Cabbage rolls may even be distantly related to meat-stuffed versions of the dolma wrapped in grape leaves. In summary, this dish is a ubiquitous classic of rustic country-fare and (in my opinion) one of the ultimate comfort foods of Fall.

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In a previous article, I delivered a fairly thorough overview of stocks and outlined a recipe for fish stock. I dislike repeating myself, but for the sake of clarity, let’s start with what we know (or should know). There are three basic types of stock: white, brown, and fumet. Fish stock belongs to the first category, and is thus fairly simple to make; there’s some chopping and a fairly short simmer time, but no extra work is involved. Brown stock, the subject of today’s article, requires a little more preparation and a lot more time. I won’t pretend to be an expert in this arena. I’m still working out the kinks in this recipe, and there are a few practical matters to address in the future. But if you’re looking for an inroads into the topic, read on.

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In the short lull between the end of October and mid November, I like to have a break from the kitchen to recoup. That means no eight hour kitchen days for at least one week. So I threw together a chimichurri in 10 minutes, marinaded thinly sliced steak overnight, and spent 15 minutes pulling together a plate of fried sweet onions and bell peppers, seared mushrooms with truffle oil, and steak finished on the cast iron griddle. Super easy.

There’s really no single recipe for chimichurri. It can be done with red wine vinegar or white wine vinegar, cilantro or no cilantro, lemon juice or lime juice, olive oil or vegetable oil, etc. Typically there are red pepper flakes, but even that can be substituted out for another spicy ingredient.

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My thoughts were drawn to my grandmother the other day. I never knew her very well beyond the self-interested childhood sphere of age eight, when she died quite unexpectedly just after her 50th anniversary. But there was one fact I could grip with stark clarity: she was the wife of a missionary. She married my grandfather fairly young and traveled with him extensively, going so far as to raise her own children in another country thousands of miles away from her friends (and possibly any family, not that I understood her to have any happy connections). It was baffling to me for many years. I was a progressive liberal and a budding feminist with a strong streak of individualism. What could possibly motivate a woman to up, marry, travel hell-knows-where at the whim of a man who is now practically the epitome of far-right religious Midwest values, and then have three children? And how could this person possibly be related to me? It seemed impossible that we shared the same genes.

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Occasionally I get the urge to cook what no sane, modern man or woman should ever try. Take today for instance—I thought, "Wouldn’t it be great to make Mom’s Japanese curry, but without the help of roux from a box?" Ha bloody ha-ha. Okay, so maybe starting this the day after the cioppino was not my brightest idea. Starting this after finishing a fish stock, a molten cake, a cioppino, and a pesto while also working on two loaves of bread was truly the pinnacle of brilliant scheduling. But like you, I thought, "I just need to make a roux. How hard could it be?" I’ve made roux thousands of times and killed thousands of roux babies. I eat roux for breakfast (okay, not really). But still!

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Beef stroganoff is one of those faithful staples of the hearth I turn to when I need a break from fancier fare. My old trusty recipe, handwritten on a wrinkled, water stained piece of typing paper, went something like this:

egg noodles, prepared
2 lbs stew meat, cubed
? white onion, chopped into squares
1? (10.75 oz) cans condensed cream of mushroom soup, fat free
? cup water
¼ cup fresh chives, finely chopped
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1¼ tsp Worcestershire sauce
1? cubes beef boullion, crushed or minced to powder
? cup white wine, dry
1 (8 oz) container low fat sour cream
? cup chopped fresh parsley
1 large box fresh mushrooms, cut in half, lightly sautéed

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