squash court

 

I came into possession of some gorgeous poblano peppers, which have been looking mighty fine in the market even as all the produce around them begins to show signs of jet lag.  So I set out to make my friend Julie's "Three Sisters and One Spicy Brother" squash soup, which is some mighty soup, but when I unearthed the recipe in my bin of scraps and magazines, I found I lacked a few of the things required to produce it.  The principle missing ingredient was time: one of the sisters is white beans, and I did not have time to soak and cook them.  There was no big, looming deadline, really--I just wanted this soup for dinner. 

Right behind her recipe in the bin was an old squash soup of mine that was pretty tasty, as I recall.  But sitting there on the counter next to Julie's recipe and the peppers, it started to take notions into its head.  A hybrid version resulted.

I've made it a couple of times now, because the poblanos continue to wink and sparkle at me as I troll the store wishing it were still summertime (only from a produce standpoint), and each time I forget how I did it the time before and still end up with something that makes the consumers pretty happy, so my net opinion is that you cannot go very far wrong combining these ingredients. If you are curious, the main difference is that sometimes I leave the bulb end of the squash whole and roast it, and then mash it, and sometimes I dice the whole squash and cook half of it with the aromatics in the soup pot, and then puree it all together with my trusty stick blender.  No obvious difference is apparent.  I gave you the half and half method below, because it spares you peeling and chopping the peskier bulb end while it is raw, but it's your call.

There's some grunt work involved.  Can't lie about that.  

Butchering a butternut squash is aerobic work, and you have to get a pan and the oven involved.

And there are the peppers to roast, and otherwise attend to.

Plus some mincing around, and further chances to practice your knife skills.

But once all the prep work is done, the soup itself comes together in a snap. 

And then you get to eat it.

two sisters and one spicy brother soup

2 or 3 poblano peppers
1 large butternut squash
3T olive oil, divided
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1" of fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped (not too fine)
2-3t ground cumin
3/4 t salt
1 chipotle pepper in adobo sauce (see note), finely minced
10 oz frozen corn kernels
1 c chopped fresh cilantro, or basil as an alternative

Roast the poblano peppers over a gas burner flame or under the broiler until well charred all over.  Plop them into a small bowl and cover it, so the trapped steam can loosen the skin for you.  Once they are cool enough to handle, do the messy work of slipping their peels off, seeding them, and chopping them up into a quarter-inch dice.  Try to resist the urge to rinse them, as they lose roastiness when you do. Stray bits of charred peel won't harm the end result. You can do this a day or two in advance if you like.

Heat the oven to 425.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and also grab a medium baking dish. Hack the bulb end of the squash off the neck end.  Stand the bulb end on its cut side, halve it, and scrape out the seeds. Place the bulb ends, cut side down, into the baking dish with a little water and slide it into the oven while you continue to wrestle the rest of the squash into submission.

Slice off the stem end and stand the neck section up on the cutting board.  Slice vertically from stem to stern, into half-inch slices, and then go about peeling those and chopping them into cubes that will fit nicely in your soup spoon.  Toss them with a tablespoon of oil, and spread on the baking sheet. Roast the cubes about 25 minutes, until just golden and tender.  Keep the bulb ends in there all this while, and when they slump a bit, they are ready to come out, too.  Set all of this aside to cool.

Heat the remaining oil in a large, heavy pot.  Saute the onion until it begins to soften and lightly brown, then add the garlic, ginger, salt, cumin and chipotle and keep cooking until it is all nicely fragrant, about another minute.

Now scrape the cooked flesh from the bulby parts of the squash into the pot, and thoroughly mash it around with your spoon until it is pretty smooth.  Add about 6 cups of water, the roasted squash cubes and the corn, and mix everything very well. Bring it to a simmer, and let it cook for about ten minutes.  Stir in the cilantro, and taste for salt and heat.

The promised NOTE on the chipotle peppers: little cans of these are sold in the Latin or Spanish section of most every grocery store.  I buy a can about every six months, dump the contents of the can into a small tub, jar or freezer bag, and use it as I need it.

free wife high

Back in the old days, a housewife in need of a pick-me-up had some options.  For example, amphetamines.  Those were an option.

courtesy of http://www.whale.to/a/weed_booze.html

These are harder to come by nowadays, and generally frowned upon as a solution to most common problems.  On the plus side, the house-dress and girdle have also gone the way of all things, so there is that to be grateful for.

Trying to get my cooking mojo back led me to resurrect some staples.  It's kind of like playing scales.  I made some granola bars, this time with lemon zest and apricots but no frosting.  I overbaked them a little when my unmedicated mind wandered, but they are still quite useful to have in a jar on the counter come lunchbox or low blood sugar time, and counted (just barely) toward feeling better about cooking.

Then, still thinking ahead to MondayMorningLunchBoxPanic, I made a batch of those quinoa and cheese muffins.  If I gave a concert, this would be the one you all would raise your lighters for.  Every Raisinette (and you know who you are) mentions this recipe.  My cousin's neighbor.  My daughter's classmate's mother's co-worker.  It even got anthologized!

I employed some first-rate second-grader labor to get the cheese sprinkled correctly:

 

and these turned out fine too.

But it is housewife food that has really saved the day.  Housewife food is not the food that anyone responsible for the caloric intake of everyone under one roof churns out, as above, to keep the wheels turning.  The person making that daily stuff may or may not consider themselves a housewife.  I mean instead a category of food-making that involves a can of this and a package of that and a general feeling that you are leaping from your minivan ready to feed a hungry crowd of teens after a sports event.  The term also refers to anything that involves cooking with mayonnaise, includes the word "mock" in its title, or tempts you to write "it's THAT good, people."

The substance below was concocted in a general sense in response to a number of recipes that had floated past my head in recent months, each with their appealing elements (in sum: hot cheese) and specifically because I was invited to an all-female evening and asked to bring a snack offering.  I leaped from my minivan and whipped this up immediately.  

It is a flexible item.  It served comfortably as a dip for tortilla chips the other night ("does this have dairy in it? then I probably have to skip it," said one of the females, who did not, ultimately, skip any part of it), then the next day I made it again and we ate it over rice and I heard no complaints.  I have made it now with sour cream and with whole milk Greek yogurt (also once with nonfat Greek yogurt, but it's best not to dwell on that).  It calls for fresh corn, and for good reason, but I imagine that if you are not making it in New England in the late summer or early fall (where and when the use of frozen corn is, as it should be, an actionable offense), you could use frozen corn, too.  Extra housewife points for that.  If you are making it for dipping purposes, use less corn as it's the cheesy part that you'll want to emphasize; if you are heading more towards a casserole side dish, strap on a girdle, use more corn and for a shot at the title of Housewife Champeen, crumble some tortilla chips on top before you bake it.

 

mock housewife food

2-3 ears of corn, cooked and cooled

1/2 cup whole milk Greek yogurt or sour cream

1/4 c mayonnaise (I like this one because it is not at all sweet and is actually tasty, whereas most bottled mayonnaise is unpleasantly sweet and is used as a sandwich lubricant but brings nothing to the flavor table, not that you asked)

1 4 oz can of chopped roasted green chiles

1.5 c coarsely shredded cheddar or jack

a handful of finely chopped cilantro

a handful of finely chopped scallions

1 t ground cumin

1t chile powder

A good dash of hot sauce, and if you really like some heat, a chopped pickled jalapeño and/or a teaspoon of finely chopped chipotle in adobo

Heat the oven to 375.  Mix everything together and smooth it into a baking dish.  Bake about 15 minutes, until bubbly, hot and lightly golden.

new day

There are a few reasons to be grateful today.  Actually, there are dozens and dozens.  Here are three four:

1. The Miracle Chicken, who survived being pecked for all intents and purposes pretty much right to death, as I told you, and then dodged The Hand Of Chicken Death that claimed her bunkmates and three other chickens in one dreadful week of random and distressing poultry management misery that I kept secret from you, and was presumed Taken From Above yesterday by the circling hawks, has materialized yet again.  Though unnaccounted for at roll call last night, there she was this morning all "where's my breakfast?"  She continues, at least for today, not to be dead. This is a specialty of hers, thus far.

2. When I said, honestly but also, in truth, kind of reflexively, "Thanks so much," to the young man with special needs who does the bagging at the grocery store this morning, he said, very thoughtfully, "You are welcome so much."  I became, instantly, way more thankful than I had been a moment earlier, and a little more alert to the nice ways we can connect to other humans as we go about the day.

3. At least 10 of you are battling Ryan Gosling with me.  There is still time to leave your name to win a jar of jam and save us all from my searches to see what other food groups have been rendered into effigies.

4. The corn and the tomatoes are rolling in, so it is time to make my go-to summer potluck salad.  I don't make it every single day in August like I used to, because barley of course had to go and have gluten, and sometimes I make it with quinoa, which is also really fine, but nothing beats it with barley.  Nubby and chewy and satisfying.  Or so I recall.  It is a snap to make and loves parties.  (If you don't feel up to cooking the corn, or have more nectarines than tomatoes, make Alana's salad.).

corn, barley & tomato salad

1 c raw pearled barley

4-6 ears of corn, shucked

about 2 large tomatoes, any color

a large handful of fresh basil, chopped

1/2 c olive oil

2 T balsamic vinegar

fresh ground pepper and coarse sea salt, to taste

Cook the barley in lightly salted water until tender, about 30 minutes, and drain.  Cool (you can rinse it to make this happen faster).

Cook the corn, cool, and slice from the cob. (This is also a fine use for leftover cooked corn, if that ever happens to you). Slicing slowly is the key to not filling your kitchen with corn asteroids.  It usually takes me a cob or two to remember this.

Chop the tomatoes into a chunky dice.

Combine the corn, barley, tomatoes and basil in a large bowl.  Season with the oil, vinegar, salt & pepper; taste and adjust as you like it.  Err on the side of a little extra salt and vinegar, as the flavors mellow out as it stands.