Cream of Mushroom Soup
November 23, 2009My usual procedure for developing a new recipe is something like this:
- Research
- Draft Recipe
- Experiment
- Reflection
- Revision, Revision, Revision
My usual procedure for developing a new recipe is something like this:
My previous article on beef stroganoff was outdated and in dire need of revision.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.
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.
The theme this week was Spanish cuisine and flavors. (More on why in the next article.) I needed an all-meat dish to accompany the other main, so I bumbled around on the internet until I ran across "albondigas"—or meatballs. The snafu: the online recipes were all over the map. Many of the meatballs were basted in a tomato sauce, but some were in wine-vegetable broths. Beef, pork, veal, bacon, and chicken were all candidates for the actual meat content. One of them called for Parmesan cheese, and that’s where I just drew the line. Parmesan cheese? As in the Parmigiano Reggiano of Italy?! Why would Spain, with all its lovely and wonderful cheeses, use Parmesan in what is considered a classic dish of Spain? I dove for the nearest bookstore. Save me from the hordes of sameness! I was not going to be conned into some American rendition of spaghetti and meatballs (minus the spaghetti), no matter what the internet said.
As a child I ate from a variety of cuisines which reflected the life and travel of my mother and her mother. My grandmother was a typical White Anglo Saxon Protestant (WASP), famous in the family for her apple pies, her delicious meat-and-potatoes Midwest cuisine, and her generous, welcoming table. She married a missionary of the church and traveled overseas with him to Hokkaidō. There she raised my mother with the help of a Japanese nanny, whom Mom fondly remembers as oba-san. Between my grandmother sharing her apple pies with the locals and, in turn, "oba-san" preparing traditional country-style Japanese meals for the family, my mother grew up in the epicenter of a small cultural exchange. She took this experience with her and traveled to the U.S., France, Spain, Mexico, and other countries, studying language, literature, and, occasionally, new cooking techniques and recipes. Later, she married a third generation Japanese son of Hawaii and adapted some of the recipes for him. I had the pleasure of enjoying the accumulated results descended through the line of women in my family.
One of the joys of cooking is the opportunity to work hands-on with new or unfamiliar ingredients. This week I wanted a mild side-dish to accompany the leg of lamb; I also knew I wanted Greek flavors, mushrooms, and a carbohydrate in risotto-style or something very similar. Off I went to the farmer’s market, which coincidentally has a booth selling exotic foods imported from Greece. There I sampled and bought a wonderful 6 oz hunk of Kasseri, a type of cheese which I had never tasted before. From Whole Foods I also bought whole wheat orzo and (on a whim) truffle oil, the latter of which is also foreign to my pantry. Thus began my grand experiment!
The dish came together like this:
Chicken Marsala
Modern chicken marsala is usually prepared using chicken breast, which is then butterflied or pounded with a mallet. However, I find the richness and sweetness of the marsala wine perfectly complement the depth of flavor in dark meat; chicken thighs are also conveniently the right thickness for this dish.
4.64 lbs chicken thigh
1 lb 9.8 oz mushrooms, sliced
1 shallot, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
homemade chicken stock
Florio sweet marsala wine
Ruffino Orvieto Classico 2008
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