Roasting Summer Days

It's summer!

This probably isn't news to the rest of you, but up here in The Last Frontier, we just had our first 70+ degree day.

Kids are pink-cheeked from outdoor exertion. Flowers are turning their open faces toward the sun. I'm blooming in my own way, with freckles and red highlights.

And, in the spirit of warmth and vibrancy and health, I'm setting aside the computer (and the e-reader, and the smart phone) and getting outdoors. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do for yourself is to step away from all the obligations and ambitions. They will be there tomorrow. Heck, you might find yourself gravitating blissfully toward them after some time off. But take some time for what's happening right now that won't be happening next week or next season - or at least leave it on the table as an option.

Eating healthy is a year-round journey in Casa Jacques, but today I'm focused on eating the freshest of the fresh. Local produce and fish, mostly. Straight-from-the-dirt herbs in almost everything. Following is a recipe for roasted summer vegetables, which I suspect would also make fantastic kabobs, or fantastabobs if you're into efficient language.

Roasted Cherry Tomatoes and Scallions

Veggies, Pre-Roast (Please note this is about 1/3 less than the recipe calls for)

1.5 lbs. cherry tomatoes
1 bunch scallions, cut in one-inch pieces, discarded top three inches of green
1 zucchini, cut diagonal in 1/4-inch thick pieces
4 garlic cloves, peeled and halved
2 T olive oil
2 T fresh basil (1 t if using dried)
3/4 t salt

Heat the oven to 425 degrees. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the veggies with the oil and salt and basil (but only if using dried. If using fresh, reserve). Roast for 15 minutes, tossing twice, or until the tomatoes begin to burst. Remove from oven. If using fresh basil, stir in with vegetables while hot to release flavor.

Serve as a side dish, mixed with pasta or atop chicken or fish. We went the chicken and pasta route, adding grilled, sliced chicken and dusting with fresh parmesan cheese.

Dishes like this are simple and bursting with flavor. I was so astounded by the sweet complexity of the tomatoes that I'll likely spend the summer experimenting with roasted tomato marinara sauces. Hopefully you'll find something local that obsesses you catches your attention as well. Bon Appétit.

Simple Pleasures

Indulge

Verb - in-duhlj - To yield to an inclination or desire; be lenient or permissive with

Writing comes with so many rules. Curb your adverbs. Quash your pronouns. Activate your verbs. Start with action. Lead with character. Trim all qualifiers. Watch those semi-colons!

These rules, over time or at certain tender times, drain the fun out of writing. It’s possible – if you keep all the things you’re not supposed to do while writing in your mind all at once – to not be able to write a single “good” paragraph.

And that, my dears, is no fun at all.

So I say, don’t just give yourself permission to skirt the rules, embrace your excess. For a paragraph, a story, a day or a week. As long as it takes to throw off the paralysis of discipline and rediscover inspiration.

Embrace your purple prose and aggressive alliteration, run yourself dry of wases and to be’s, don’t name your character until chapter three (if at all). Treat yourself to lay writing, over-the-top writing, empty calorie whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles writing.

Run free of the rules. Indulge yourself.

(just don’t tell your editor I gave you that idea, please)

DEMYSTIFYING THE EXOTIC: CABBAGE ROLL

I'm working on a new novel that includes several constructs that I've only previously used in limited quantities, if at all. Tie-in flashbacks. An epilogue. A plot thread that will slide over itself while still moving forward, like some sort of literary snake. Hell, there's an actual mystery in this puppy.

I'm feeling my way through the process, relying in part on an outline for plot construction, but mostly on very good books that have used similar devices. Though there's a trap in that, since I usually fall headlong into these books even when trying to regard them as resources.

While some would consider moving into new and more complicated ground as grown for a writer, I just sit here clattering away at the keyboard thinking over and over "look at me, being all fancy." But the truth is that, by the time I started writing, I'd thought about these devices enough that I had a handle on them. And, honestly, they weren't that foreign.

I feel much the same way when I first look at a new recipe, or anything that requires steps other than chopping, stirring, ladling, repeat. Food that looks different than what I've assembled before is intimidating. It looks difficult not because it is, but because I've never before held it in my hands and gone through the motions of assembling it. But it doesn't have to be difficult. Take cabbage rolls for instance. It's familiar ingredients:

1 large head green cabbage
1.5 pounds ground turkey
1/4 C. bread crumbs
1/2 red onion, diced
3 eggs
1 bunch Italian parsley, finely chopped (discard stems)
5 sage leaves, finely chopped
1 t. salt
2 t. black pepper
2 cups of your favorite tomato sauce (if thick, add 2 T water)
1/2 C. dry white wine

Nothing too exotic there, right? Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil and add 2 T. salt. So doable!

Remove 12 whole leaves from the cabbage. Drop them into the boiling water (you may have to encourage them to stay down) and boil until soft enough to fold, about 4-5 minutes. Work in batches if the pot is too small. Drain and rinse with cool water and lay on clean towel to cool.

Meanwhile, in mixing bowl, place the turkey, bread crumbs, onion, eggs, parsley, sage, salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly. Place 1/2 cup of mixture in each cabbage leaf, at the bottom. Fold sides in, then roll up until it forms a closed pocket. (Use less filling if leaves are small)

Pour half the tomato sauce and the wine in the bottom of a casserole dish. Mix together. Lay cabbage rolls on top. Spoon remaining sauce over top and bake for 1 hour. Serve hot. How simple is that?

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Making It Up As We Go

I wish that life came with a manual.

A really precise manual, spanning tens of volumes like an Encyclopedia set.

It would also be cool if life came with a unicorn, but I digress... Because if life came with a manual, dear readers, then we would have something concrete to spin off from, or twist to make it uniquely ours. Instead we trundle along, mostly following in familiar footsteps, shying away from the things we were told to be scared of, or sticking to the straight and narrow after a near-miss when we did try to change course.

Sticking to the known is comfortable. It can also be boring.

I took a big step off course when I decided to write for publication, then a larger step out of my comfort zone when I started to see some success. And now, while I'm not exactly at ease with publishing, I don't panic as I bob about in its peculiar gravity. I'm trying on a new genre, dipping the toes of my pen in to see if we might be a match. It's exciting, stretching parts of my skillset and requiring that I set aside others.

In the spirit of stretching, I'm giving you a recipe that practically begs to be adapted. It's a slow-cooker recipe, which in my mind makes it difficult to screw up. It's also delicious and feeds eight to ten.

Mid-post P.S. Those are pickled jalapenos peeking out of the corn muffins. They're like spicy gold, I tell you.

Two Bean Chicken Chili

1 T. vegetable oil
6 cloves garlic
1 lg. onion, finely chopped
4 stalks celery, finely chopped
1 t. dried savory
1/2 t. coarsely ground black pepper
zest of 1 lime
1 T. ground cumin
2 T. fine cornmeal
1 C. chicken stock
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes, coarsely chopped, with juice
2 lbs chicken breast, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 14-oz cans pinto beans, drained and rinsed
2 C. frozen, sliced green beans
1 T. chili powder
2 T. lime juice
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 4.5-oz can mild green chiles
1 jalapeno pepper, diced (optional)

• In a skillet over medium heat, warm oil. Add onions and celery. Stir and cook until onion is translucent. Add garlic, savory, pepper, lime zest and cumin. Stir for 1 minute. Add cornmeal and toss to coat vegetables. Add chicken stock and cook, stirring, until boils - about 1 minute. Add tomatoes (with juice), return to boil, then transfer into slow cooker.
• Add chicken, both beans, and stir well. Cover and cook on Low for 8 hours or high for 4 hours. Chicken should be cooked and chili should be bubbling.
• Add chili powder, lime juice, and all chosen peppers. Stir. Cover and cook on high for 30 minutes or until bell peppers become tender.

This is a great recipe with which to experiment. Add your favorites. Excellent topped with sour cream and cilantro.

Heavy Load? Think Light!

After the excesses and bad-for-me convenience foods of the holidays, all I want is quick, fresh food. Unfortunately, this is a hugely busy time at the day job. Plus I have a book releasing on January 16th. Oh, and I'm going on vacation soon and have to pack for all the ifs, ands or maybes.

I'm sure many of you are similarly bogged down. So, in the spirit of simplifying things, I offer a light, tasty soup. It's an excellent starter course or accompaniment to a sandwich or salad.

Please note the curry powder, diva that it is, is missing from this picture.

Curried Squash-Apple Bisque

1 med. onion
1 T. toasted sesame oil
1 t. yellow curry powder (or to taste)
2 lb. butternut squash
2 granny smith apples
5 c. vegetable or chicken stock
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1 t. sea salt

• Chop onion. In 3-4 quart pot, heat oil over medium head. Saute onion and curry powder until onion is translucent.
• Meanwhile, peel, seed and cube squash. Peel, seed and cube one apple. Add these and stock to pot.
• Bring to boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20-30 minutes or until squash is tender. Add salt.
• Working in batches (and very carefully), puree in blender.
• Peel the remaining apple. Grate and toss in bowl with lemon juice.
• Serve soup hot, garnished with grated apple.

Enjoy!

Don't Bite the Messenger is available for pre-order from Carina Press, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

Simplicity and Surprise

I love simplicity, like sauces that only require five ingredients and an hour of unobtrusive cooking on the backburner. I also like the elements of surprise and contrast, and will put disproportionate amounts of effort into creating them. It took me four tries to figure out how to hide lemon zest in an asparagus bisque so that the smooth, creamy earthiness ended on a bright, acidic note. There’s nothing quite so satisfying as seeing people’s faces light up with surprise and delight while eating freaking soup.

I enjoy these aspects in books as well. Simplicity makes it easy to fall into a new world. Maybe I’m a lazy reader, but I like to tumble in and not blink until about page 30. Surprise and contrast produce tension and conflict. They make us root for the battered underdog, cry for the broken hero, and cringe from the villain. Achilles with that tender heel. The daydreamer who’s a virtuoso with a blade. The uptight CEO with his secret appreciation of doilies. Okay, I haven’t seen that last one yet, but I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.

In the spirit of simplicity, I offer up a pound cake. It’s not quite as simple as the original, a pound each of flour, butter, sugar, eggs and remorse. But it’s close (minus the remorse).

Vanilla Pound Cake

(adapted from the amazing All New Good Housekeeping Cookbook)

1 ½ cups butter or margarine (3 sticks), softened

2 ¼ cups granulated sugar

6 large eggs

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon salt

3 cups cake flour

• Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour 10-inch Bundt pan.
• In large bowl, with mixer at low speed, beat butter and granulated sugar until just blended. Increase high and beat until light and fluffy (about 3 minutes), frequently scraping bowl with spatula. Reduce speed to medium; add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla and salt. Increase speed to high and beat for 2 minutes, scraping the bowl.
• With large wire whisk, stir in flour until just smooth.
• Spoon batter into Bundt pan and spread evenly.
• Bake until toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 1 hour.
• Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes. Run the tip of a thin knife around the edge of the pan to loosen. Invert onto rack to cool completely. Try not to eat until cool.

If you want to add something surprising, try drizzling the cake with the following sauce, or fold the sauce into whipped cream for added decadence. This requires some elbow grease, but makes a fine foil to the pound cake. Or ice cream. Or a dull muffin.

10 ounces frozen raspberries in syrup, thawed

2 tablespoons red currant jelly

1 teaspoons cornstarch

• In 2-quart saucepan, push the raspberries through a fine sieve using the back of a spoon. Discard seeds.
• Stir in jelly and cornstarch. Heat to boiling over high heat, stirring constantly. Boil for one minute until it thickens.

Find Hillary and her pen name, Regan Summers, at:

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