Even more so by Dorie’s explanation, “In France, a roast chicken is a beloved staple — the most traditional dish for Sunday lunch. Yet the country’s little secret is that often home cooks don’t even roast the birds themselves: they buy them hot off the butcher’s rotisserie.”
This is when I became super excited. What Dorie was asking us to do, I thought, was to scout out the best tasting rotisserie chicken available. A slam dunk for me since my local Whole Foods features a free-range, vegetarian fed, all natural rotisserie chicken for $8.99. On Wednesday, it’s on sale. Save two dollars. Cluck. Cluck.
“Life is the art of drawing sufficient conclusions from insufficient premises.” Samuel Butler
“Still,” Dorie continued, “I’ve never met a French cook who can’t roast a chicken.”
This time Mr. Butler got it wrong. Not only were we going to roast our own chicken this week, Dorie had decided the best method and the one we would use was concocted by France’s greatest living chef, Joël Robuchon. My last encounter with Chef Robuchon was in February when I sat at the counter of his dazzling Las Vegas diner, L’Atelier. Since that evening of fine dining cost me $473.48, I knew I could wave au revoir to the $6.99 WF’s roast chicken. (Yes, I am currently hyperventilating again as I write this paragraph.)
My last encounter with Joël Robochon, France’s greatest living chef …………
However, a chubby roast chicken provided a perfect meals-with-protein schedule for this busy Halloween week, one that included baking two more Marie-Hélène Apple Cakes for dinners with friends and a double batch of This Skinny Chick Can Bake’s White Chocolate Monster Munch for all the ghouls, goblins and ghosts who work here at The Gant. (Thank you, Liz Berg.)
A delicious way to end a lovely dinner – with Marie Hélène’s Apple Cake
White Chocolate Monster Munch – (in the spirit of full disclosure, this snack is very additive)
Halloween means doubling down on the White Chocolate Monster Munch snack recipe for the staff at The Gant (where I live).
The trick to a remarkably moist chick, according to Dorie, is to put it through some, well, let’s call ’em yoga positions during its 60 minutes, 450 degree roasting period. While, admittedly, there are indignities done to the chicken throughout this process, remember that this bird is not alive to realize it. It’s suffering has already happened.
Yoga Position One – Warrior Pose
First, lay the chicken on its side for 25 minutes. Then, turn the bird over on its other side for another 25 minutes. For the final 10 minutes, flip it on its back to roast breast side up. Now are you ready for the headstand? Transfer the chicken breast side down to the platter and lift the chicken’s tail in the air! Cover with foil and let the exhausted bird stand on its head (so to speak) for another 10 minutes.
Yoga Position Three – Modified Corpse Pose
Yoga Position Four – Downward Facing Dog
The result, my friends, is a superb, delicious and remarkably moist roast chicken. For added flavor, all I did prior to roasting was to shake some salt, pepper and Pensey’s Ruth Ann’s Muskego Ave. Chicken & Fish Seasoning on the little guy. I also slipped some garlic butter and thyme leaves under the skin, pressing and pushing gently to coat the breast meat. Here’s the recipe.
Boeuf à La Mode (“Dorothy, you aren’t in Kansas anymore.”)
I was all over this week’s French Fridays with Dorie recipe choice, Boeuf à La Mode.
“The French have tons of ways of taking inexpensive, often tough cuts of meat and turning them into dishes so tasty the mere mention of them make you smile,” Dorie explains.
Ohhhhh, I wish Dorie could have met my mother. She wrote the book. Inexpensive. Tough. Smile.
My brother and I cut our teeth on hearing the tale of our parents starting their marriage with a full tank of gas (which meant they owned a car) and 25 cents in their pocket. It was enough to get them to Eldora, Iowa, where my father had accepted his first teaching job.
My dad, whose parents lost everything during the Depression, won a scholarship to college but often, during those four years, didn’t have a full belly. That’s why he made sure, through sheer perseverance and determination, that his family never missed a meal. He brought home the bacon and my thrifty mom threw it in the skillet.
This week, mixing loyalty to my Dorista colleagues with tiny tugs at my heartstrings, I bought a 2-pound Eye of Round Beef roast, marinated it overnight with spices, veggies and wine, seared it on all sides and braised it in the oven for several hours.
Although I knew Mom would forgive me Dorie’s addition of wine and Cognac, items we never had in our house, the addition of anchovies gave me pause. With a guilty glance skyward, whispering, “forgive me for this,” I drained, rinsed and patted dry those salty little buggers before tossing them into the pot.
This week’s Boeuf à La Mode answered the call for comfort food very adequately. You can find the recipe here. To my mind, the French have nailed many beef specialities including daubes, cassoulets and, even, tartare. However, perhaps you will understand why I must save the bragging rights to the perfect pot roast for an Iowa housewife.
If you’re interested in how my FFWD colleagues rated this week’s recipe, go here.
Never underestimate the healing power of nature. Throw in a 12-ounce veal chop smothered in rosemary butter … and you’re golden. Joie de vivre on steroids. This week’s French Fridays with Dorie recipe choice is Veal Chopswith Rosemary Butter, a hearty lunch for a chilly September Sunday.
A 12-ounce Veal Chop
The first of September is always my personal New Year’s Day. Hold the champagne but spike the cider. If I choose to banish New Year’s Eve totally and celebrate September 1st as the official day of renewal and fresh beginnings, I suggest that it’s about time. Dorie’s version of Veal Chops with Rosemary Butter was the perfect dish for a September New Year’s Day feast.
My initial knee jerk reaction to this week’s recipe was “ewww!” Visions of cuddly calves confined to crates danced in my head. The good news is our USDA now discourages this cruel, inhumane method. Talk to your butcher and source your veal.
This week’s recipe is quick and easy, pan-roasted chops flavored with a white-wine/chicken broth mix and a generous dollop of rosemary butter. For a taste-you-can-believe-in, season the chops a day in advance. Rosemary butter may already be a staple in your freezer but, if not, it’s simple to make. I picked up Olathe corn and Colorado peaches at our Saturday Farmers Market to complete my plate. Auld Lang Syne and Happy New Year!
In the spirit of new beginnings, it was time to finally bring order to my tiny kitchen. Admittedly, I’ve been living in blissful disarray for these past few months. It was either enjoy my first summer back in the Rockies or continue unpacking, organizing and playing Martha Stewart. There really wasn’t a choice.
It’s not pretty. It’s my kitchen.
But now it’s September and my friend, Judy, a brilliant cook with a small, very organized kitchen, grew weary of my incessant whining. “This kitchen space just has me flummoxed,” I would tell her. Over and over and over again.
Judy is re-thinking our Friendship.
Finally we made a deal. If I unpacked all my kitchen equipment, dishes, utensils, pots and pans, she would spend a Saturday to bring order to my kitchen and pantry. In a flash I made friends with my storage unit again, unpacking boxes, loading my car with kitchen essentials, hauling them to my condo and praying Judy would not forget our date. (I called every day to remind her.)
I hung out by the counter. Sorta supervising.
What can I say about last Saturday. I love this woman. She arrived with her label maker, storage bottles and croissants. It took her only four hours to accomplish what I hadn’t in five months. (I admit to drinking coffee, munching on my croissant and being grateful.) My kitchen “works” in ways I never could have imagined. My pantry closets are expertly shelved. Each item has its place. Even the spices are labeled and in alphabetical order. Seriously?
Judy labeled each spice jar and placed them in the IKEA cart, A to Z. (The IKEA cart arrived in 2,500 pieces with the directions in Swedish. Don’t ask.)
“Now, Mary,” she cautioned, more than once,“the secret to a small kitchen is to return everything exactly to it’s place.”
What are the odds, do you think, that I can keep those spice jars soldiered up correctly from A to Z? There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell ……………..
Boulevard Raspail Corn on the Cob is this week’s French Fridays with Dorie recipe choice.
Last week, on an intensely sunny Aspen day, I was hiking down a rocky, steep mountain trail and encountered a woman catching the shade of a spindly oak tree. She was in her late sixties, noticeably wobbly and alone. (Not good.) Like a flash, my Ranger-Self sprang into action, asking if she needed help. She responded that no, she had just stopped to rest for five minutes. “I’ve been having altitude sickness,” she said, “and, I was getting dizzy again.” (High noon + 9,000’ high + altitude sickness = bad idea)
“Do you have any water?” I inquired.
She didn’t but said her husband had water at the top. That’s when I realized the three hikers I passed earlier were with her, so to speak. (At this point, dear Readers, I am not feeling any love for her husband.) I offered her my water and suggested I hike up the last 1/3 of the trail with her. She declined both offers. We went our separate ways. Her, up. Me, down. When I passed two more hikers, I asked if they’d continue hiking behind her, keeping her in sight until she was reunited with her hiking partners and they agreed.
This is a partial response, more later, to the question I am most asked these days, “What do you DO as a volunteer Forest Ranger?”
A delicious dinner: Boulevard Raspail Corn on the Cob, Dorie’s Broth-Braised Potatoes and a Salmon Patty.
However, a question I often ask myself is “What do volunteer Forest Rangers eat?” I need a healthy, fulfilling picnic lunch every day I’m on the trail as well as an easy-to-prepare dinner when I arrive home, tired and famished. Surprisingly, our French Fridays with Dorie recipes this summer have answered my menu needs.
For example, when you’re sitting on a decaying tree log surrounded by wildflowers, Quinoa and Tuna Salad or a Swordfish Sandwich or Duck Breast Wrap, all FFWD recipe-leftovers, take on 5-Star Michelin quality fare. Whole-cherry Clafoutis eases neatly into a metal camping container and a few fudgy Raw Brownies are kept cool nestled next to my icy camelback water pouch.
Ruth Frey, Chairwoman of the Volunteer Committee, is responsible for keeping all 100 volunteer Rangers on the same page. No wonder she’s taking a well-deserved Time-Out on the popular Conundrum Creek Trail.
This week’s recipe choice, Boulevard Raspail Corn on theCob, is another treat that will keep me well-fed for several days. Dorie’s corny idea is to place unhusked corn in a 400-degree F. oven, roast 40 minutes, turning once, shuck and enjoy. Simple and delicious. I’ll cut the kernels off the uneaten corn and toss in this salad and this pizza from The Cafe Sucré Farine. With the corn, I chose Dorie’s Broth-braised Potatoes, a Make-up Recipe from FFWD, January, 2012. Add a salmon patty from Whole Foods – a quick dinner.
Now that I’m fed, let’s get back to this Ranger business.
After handing out Smokey Bear stickers and pins, Steve Chase gets ready to send these little hikers on their way. Can you tell he has a granddaughter of his own?
The White River National Forest is our country’s most heavily visited Forest. In the past 3 years, it’s funding has dropped 55%. That’s why the USFS is more than grateful to have the Forest Conservancy’s “100 pair of boots on the ground” to lend support. And, we in the FC, primarily retired professionals, executives, educators, and relocated community leaders, willingly rise to the challenge.
Some stories….. Recently three unprepared hikers, wet, cold and bedraggled, came running down the two-miles from Crater Lake into the Maroon Bells Visitor Center to escape an afternoon hailstorm. While eating lunch inside the Center, the youngest in the group ran outside and began spitting/vomiting into the nearby flower berm (which was a bit unsettling to Donna Grauer, the on-duty Ranger). He had a serious peanut allergy, had eaten the no-no and was not carrying his Epipen. (Seriously?) Luckily, following protocol, Donna could offer him spray-on Benedryl and allergy pills from her Med kit which he took before heading back to Aspen and our nearby hospital.
Team Sky and Tour de France Champ Chris Froome meet Aspen FC Rangers during a conditioning ride before the USA Pro Cycling Challenge. My colleague, Judy Schramm, (R) co-founded the Forest Conservancy in 2001.
Also, that day, an unthinking father left his wife and two boys during that same hailstorm at Crater Lake to run down to the Visitors Center to request a Mountain Rescue evacuation for them. Finding this was not possible, they were not injured, he rode the bus 13 miles down to the parking area to retrieve his car and return to the Bells. By the time he returned, his family had safely hiked down with others from Crater Lake, had ridden the bus back to the parking area, missing his car arrival back to the Bells by 15 minutes. Ya think Dad was in the doghouse?
On another day two men approached my colleague Ruth Frey and me to ask if we had seen “a very pissed-off woman in a purple shirt?” We had not.
An hour or so later we did see this woman, hiking alone. “Are you the very-pissed off woman in the purple shirt?” I asked.
She was furious. Readers, we’re talking very, very angry. I asked, “Is this a divorce?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m going to kill him.”
Although we weren’t on official duty, the six of us, all Rangers, stopped to help this injured black lab. Francine is not only a wildflower expert but also a veterinarian.
When six of us, all Rangers, were on a wildflower hike several miles from a trailhead last June, we met a young woman with an injured black lab dog. He had torn off his right foot pad on a sharp rock and could not walk. She was trying, unsuccessfully, to carry him. Not only did we have all kinds of bandages and salves in our backpacks, we also had a veterinarian in our midst. Francine Liebel treated/wrapped the dog’s foot so he could walk and we hiked with them the three miles down to her car.
This is what we do every day – it’s all about kindness. We’re the good guys who hope everyone has a safe and wonderful experience in our mountains. We help keep our trails pristine, dismantle fire rings and douse still-smoldering ashes. We give Smokey stickers and buttons to the kids and filter water for hikers and campers who run short. Last year our Forest Conservancy Rangers clocked almost 7,000 service hours translating to $150,000 in-kind service and untold goodwill. Admittedly, this is not a high-paying job with any career advancement opportunities. We work for free. But we’ve got one hell of an office and you can’t beat our view.
Usually the Yellow-bellied Marmots, who love to lie on the boulders to catch the rays, are the star wildlife summer attraction. This year, however, they’ve been trumped by two pair of Mama and Baby Moose who are eye-candy for the soul.
I have a new guy. You all are the first to know. We have a connection, sharing the same passions and interests. In fact, Friday, August 9th, is his 69th birthday. Since this week’s FrenchFridays with Dorie recipe choice is Duck Breasts with Fresh Peaches, I’ve decided it’s a perfect and festive entrée for a special birthday dinner.
Dazzling duck breasts with fresh roasted peaches, both doused in a balsamic, honey and port sauce
In America when we think about special home-cooked meals, duck breasts do not come to mind. As Dorie suggests, “For us, duck is often thought of as a fancy restaurant dish; for the French, it’s something that can be seared, sauced, and served in under 30 minutes on a weeknight.”
I’m skeptical. The one and only time I cooked duck, it was a two-day process. Since then my rule has been, if it quacks, don’t even think about cooking it.
Mise en Place
To find duck breasts in Aspen was a bit of a huff. I finally gulped three times and stopped at The Butcher Block. The Block has been a local landmark for more than 40 years. It is the high, high-end destination for aged beef, veal, pork, poultry, fish,cheeses, gourmet items, caviar, fresh sandwiches and delicious soups. To shop at the Block, it helps if you are a celebrity or gazillionaire. I am neither.
But, they had four duck breasts and I didn’t. Sold.
Fortunately, the purchase was the hardest part. This week’s recipe is simple. After scoring the fatty duck skin in a crosshatch pattern and seasoning with salt and pepper, I placed the duck breasts, skin side down, in a cast-iron casserole. Set the burner at medium high heat. I cooked the duck for eight minutes, skin side down, and, after turning, for four more minutes. The duck breasts were then transferred from the pot to a loosely folded tinfoil packet and stuck in a 250-degree oven.
Next, I put thyme, garlic and 4 fresh peaches, halved, in the same casserole for five minutes before removing to join the duck breasts in the oven. I made a flavorful and smooth sauce by adding honey, port, vinegars and butter to the pot. (In hindsight, I wish I’d doubled-down on the sauce.)
When the sauce was ready I placed the duck breasts on a platter, piled on the peaches and doused with sauce. This is, without a doubt, one of the best dinner entreés I’ve ever made. If your game, you can find the complete recipe, with all its nuances, here.
Now about my beau. He’s perfection. Tall, dark, handsome, a bit chubby in an adorable-sort-of-way. Full head of hair. He’s a good-natured guy, doesn’t say much, and never talks back. Oh, he growls every so often but his growl is worse than his bite. He doesn’t know a stranger and loves to hang out in the wilderness with me. When I mentioned that I wanted to spend the Winters in California, he was fine with that. Says he’ll just be sleeping anyway.
HAPPY 69th BIRTHDAY, SMOKEY BEAR
Not too surprising that Smokey Bear and I found each other, him being my sidekick-of-choice these days, is it? He’s been America’s wildfire-fighting icon, a friend of the forests and wilderness for the past 69-years, and now he’s mine!.
Smokey has recently become more social media-savvy also according to Ragan’s PR Daily. “A new campaign casts him as a warmer character.” Ragan writes. “In contrast to his role as an ominous forest watchman, the new Smokey is more personable and gives “bear hugs” to responsible campers.
Smokey’s message reaches his audience on social sites including Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn , Tumblr, and Google+. The bear hugs, seen in the TV commercials, are tweeted as #SmokeyBearHug, along with a bear hug emoticon, to congratulate safe campers or reward someone who shares a helpful fire prevention tip.”
LOL.
Although Smokey would have been just as happy with his favorite menu of choice, peanut butter sandwiches, bluefish and trout, Duck Breasts with Fresh Peaches and a celebratory chocolate cake were his birthday fare.
If you want to wish Smokey Bear a Happy Birthday, go to any of his social media sites. If you wish to see what my colleagues cooked up this week, go here.
Mediterranean Swordfish with Frilly Herb Salad – French Fridays with Dorie
This week’s French Friday’s with Dorie recipe choice, a delicious Mediterranean Swordfish with Frilly Herb Salad, instantly brought to mind our family’s supper table chatter when I was a kid. Throughout these impressionable years, my parents would unwittingly and not-so-unwittingly toss out those nuggets of advice, wisdom and “I think’s”, that helped shape the adult I became. But that was then, the Midwest in the Fifties and the Sixties. This is now. To lighten my load (those nuggets get heavy), it’s time to recycle and reboot. For now, just 3. Number 1 and 2, I’m on my own. The last, it’s Dorie to the rescue.
First, my father always told me to never, never buy a new car. “You lose too much value just driving it off the Lot,” he’d often remind me. “Always buy a good used car.”
Whether that’s still true or not, I wouldn’t know. My friends, colleagues and even my son-in-law, buy those sexy, sparkly new vehicles always advertised on Superbowl Sunday. I’m almost sure if I purchased a new car, paid cash, (always), and drove it off the Lot, the heavens would open up and rock and roll in despair. (2008, Lexus RX350, 79,351 miles, Used).
The flavorful, South-of-France-spiced marinade which lets Mr. Swordfish know that Life is Good.
Two: always soar with the eagles. Again, my father. Translated, that means get up early: 5 A.M. Since I hailed from a rural Iowa farming community where many of the area’s residents soared, it seemed the norm. To this day, if it’s 5 A.M., my inner clock still insists the day must begin……or guilt rares its ugly head. That eagle-thing has plagued me my entire life. I’m currently working on a new inner-clock of my own. Haven’t I’ve earned the right (I ask myself)? Six A.M. is a win. Six-thirty A.M. is hedonistic. Sorry, Dad.
Third, my mom gets the credit here. If you look out your window and don’t see water, don’t buy, order or eat fish. No ifs, ands, fins or buts. Growing up in Iowa, we ate well but never anything that swam. Those were different times, before fish was shipped properly, safely and maintained its taste. You could, of course, buy frozen fish fillets-in-a-box. As I said, we never ate fish. My husband, Michael, was a midwestern boy and obviously his mother had served him fillets-in-a-box. The result? As an adult, if it was spelled f-i-s-h, he flat-out refused to eat it.
Swordfish Steaks
I like fish but am a newbie at cooking it. Although I look out my window here, see only mountains, no water, there is fresh fish to be caught. Since moving back to Aspen, my good friend, Judy Boyd, a talented caterer, has introduced me to her favorite purveyors and helped me source food products. That’s how I met Jose, the fishmonger at our local market two blocks away. He supplies me with sweet-smellin’ fish. This week’s swordfish was no exception.
For this recipe and because we’re going to cook it in a skillet, Dorie suggests 1/2 to 3/4-inch thick steaks, about 5 ounces each. (Jose was doubtful about this. A grimace. A frown.) The marinade, a combo of rosemary, lemons, capers, chiles and olive oil, provides it with the fragrance and flavor of the Côte d’Azur.
“It does double duty,” Dorie explains. “It moistens and boldly flavors the swordfish, then it turns it into a sauce, so that every last drop of goodness is captured.”
To marinate the swordfish steaks, use a plastic bag, combine all the ingredients and refrigerate for an hour (or, four).
After marinating it for an hour (I did four), remove from the marinade to cook it in a skillet warmed with olive oil. You want it to be opaque in the middle – not rare – so cook at least three minutes on each side.To serve, heat the marinade and pour it carefully over the four servings of fish. Top each piece of fish with herb salad tossed in lemon juice and olive oil. Any veggie will work but green beans are my choice. This is a fabulous entrée to serve to your family or guests. So simple. So elegant. So you see, I am learning from the best. Dorie “does” fish very well.
I’m driving to California this week-end to help my granddaughter, Emma, celebrate her twelfth birthday. And, yes, I just checked, wearing clean underwear! (Thanks, Mom.)
To see how my colleagues swam this week, go here. To make this wonderful swordfish entrée, here’s the recipe.
