Old-School Buttermilk Fried Chicken

In an effort to be both hip and timely my book club read The Great Gatsby last month. It was going to be, well, great. Cool, smart ladies reading classic fiction we hadn't looked at since high school, putting on lipstick, heading out to see Baz Luhrmann's much-hyped film, chatting it over with ice cold gin and tonics afterward. I could almost feel the cigarette holder between my fingers, not that I smoke, but we were just going to be that awesome.

But apparently we forgot. We forgot that we're not 16 anymore with endless summer stretching before us. We forgot the obligations. Work. Travel. Spouses. Pets. Kids. Oh, and some of us need to be in bed by 10 pm. So the movie never got seen. Not by any of us. And then it was gone. Out of the theaters while we were still making our great plans. Awful, right?

At least we still have book club. And this plate of cold fried chicken.

You know the scene? Tom and Daisy huddled at the kitchen table shortly after the accident, a platter of cold fried chicken between them. This is symbolic fried chicken, people.

In keeping with Gatsby, this is old school fried chicken - shake it in a paper bag and deep fry it old school. No Corn Flakes. No oven "frying". No rushing. Old school fried chicken takes time. First there's a leisurely herb-scented buttermilk bath.

Then a slow fry. Resist the urge to make your oil too hot or you'll end up with burnt on the outside, raw on the inside chicken. Nobody wants that. Keep the oil right around 325-350 degrees. Adjust the heat accordingly as you work. Don't speed it. Savor the process. Then eat the chicken. And remember, there's always Netflix. 

Old-School Buttermilk Fried Chicken
adapted from SimplyRecipes.com

3 pounds chicken pieces (I used 12 drumsticks)
1 quart buttermilk
1 large onion, thickly sliced
1 tbsp Tabasco sauce
1 tbsp cayenne pepper
1 handful fresh parsley, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh thyme
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tbsp Penzeys Black and Red Spice (or 1/2 tbsp cayenne and 1/2 tbsp ground black pepper)
1 tbsp onion powder
1 tbsp seasoned salt
2-3 cups canola oil for frying

Whisk together the buttermilk, Tabasco sauce and cayenne in a large bowl. Toss in the onion slices, thyme and parsley. Place the chicken pieces into the mixture and marinate at least overnight (8-36 hours). Drain the chicken pieces in a colander.

Heat the oil in a large, deep, heavy pot over medium high heat to 350 degrees. Your oil should be about an inch and a half deep in the pot. 

Meanwhile, layer two large paper grocery bags, one inside the other. This is a great time to bust out the sturdy Whole Foods bags that you have stashed in a closet somewhere. Dump the flour, Black and Red, onion powder, and seasoned salt in the bag. Fold over the top a couple of times to seal the bag and give it a shake. Add the drained chicken pieces, reseal the paper bag and give it a few heart shakes to coat the chicken.

Working in batches, carefully place a few chicken pieces into the hot oil. Don't crowd them. Fry the chicken on one side for about 12-15 minutes then carefully flip each piece and fry the other side about 10 -14 minutes until crispy, golden and cooked through. Drain on paper towels. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot, or let cool to room temperature, refrigerate and serve it Gatsby-style. Cold.

Panna Cotta with Strawberry-Rhubarb Sauce

The little KC kids are obsessed with jello. Like a lot of kids, the infatuation has more to do with the slip and jiggle than any particular flavor profile. I mean, when you assert preference by color, how important, really, is taste? I'm going with not very.

Given the penchant for wiggle, I thought panna cotta might be right up their alley, especially topped with a glossy bright strawberry-rhubarb sauce. And bonus, real vanilla and fresh strawberries taste so much better than red.

Disclaimer time. The original recipe calls for creme fraiche, which while picking up rhubarb and buttermilk at Whole Foods, I could have sworn was happily residing in my fridge just waiting to be called into action. Alas, when I got home, that very creme fraiche mysteriously had morphed into mascarpone! I hate when that happens. Fortunately there's almost always some Greek yogurt hanging around our house, which valiantly stood in for the mysterious traitor.

Buttermilk-Yogurt Panna Cotta with Strawberry-Rhubarb Sauce
adapted from Bon Appetit 

For the Panna Cotta

1 & 1/4 tsp unflavored powdered gelatin
1 & 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise
1 & 1/4 cups buttermilk
1 & 1/4 cups full-fat plain Greek yogurt

For the Sauce

1 & 1/2 cups (about 10 ounces) strawberries, hulled
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 cups rhubarb, (about 8 ounces) sliced 1/4-inch thick
1/2 tsp unflavored powdered gelatin

For the Panna Cotta, pour 1/4 cup of cold water into a little bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over the top. Let is sit for about 10 minutes until the gelatin swells and softens.

In a medium saucepan, combine the cream, sugar, and salt. Scrape the gooey seeds from the vanilla bean into the liquid, then toss in the pod too.

Bring the mixture to a simmer then add the softened gelatin mixture. Stir to dissolve all the gelatin, then remove the pan from heat and let it cool. Once cool, remove the vanilla bean pod. Whisk in the buttermilk and yogurt. Pour the mixture into small ramekins or dessert glasses. Chill in the refrigerator until firm, at least 2 hours.

For the sauce, combine the strawberries, rhubarb, and sugar in a medium heat-proof bowl. Toss everything together so the sugar coats the fruit.

Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap, folding and pressing the wrap so it extends just along the top edge of the bowl. If it helps, you can wrap a large rubber band around the rim of the bowl to hold the plastic wrap in place.

Set the bowl over a pot of simmering water, careful not to let the plastic wrap touch the pot. Heat the berry-rhubarb mixture without stirring for about 45 minutes, until the rhubarb looks pale and the fruit is soft.

Use a fine sieve to strain the fruit mixture, reserving the liquid only. Don't press and push on the fruit to get more juice out or your sauce won't be nearly as lovely. Get what you can, then add water to make 1 cup total.

In a separate small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over 2 tablespoons cold water. Let it stand for 10 minutes.

While the gelatin is softening, bring the strawberry-rhubarb liquid to a boil in a small saucepan for about 3 minutes, stirring every now and then to prevent burning. Add the softened gelatin mixture and stir well to dissolve any stubborn gelatin granules. Remove from heat and let stand until completely cool.

Top the cold, set panna cotta with the cooled sauce and chill until the sauce is thickened, at least 2 hours.

Strawberry Ricotta Scones

One sweltering and blindingly sunny summer day an eternity ago, we went strawberry picking. After shortcakes, smoothies, balsamic strawberry jam with cracked pepper, and much strawberry limeade, we ended up with about 5 pounds of berries in the freezer, where they've been hanging out gathering ice crystals ever since. Obviously, it's time to use them before the next strawberry season rolls around, but any old smoothie won't do for these conserved nibble-size beauts. Hard-earned berries require something special.

A few months ago I made these egg-free Blackberry Meyer Lemon Ricotta Scones and I haven't been able to shake their legacy since. Is there a better place to nestle sweet tender summer berries in the dead of winter than in between flaky warm layers of whole wheat ricotta scones? I for one think not.

Strawberry Ricotta Scones
adapted from The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook

1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1/3 cup sugar*
1/2 tsp kosher salt
6 tbsp cold, unsalted butter
1 cup strawberries (fresh or frozen), coarsely chopped
3/4 cup ricotta cheese
1/3 cup buttermilk

*I upped the sugar just a tad from the original recipe because well, I like sugar, but what I really mean to say is that it offsets the tartness of these particular strawberries. Let your berries be your guide and if yours are particularly sweet, feel free to reduce down to 1/4 cup of sugar.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees and line a baking sheet with a Silpat mat or parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together both flours, baking powder, sugar, and salt. Using a pastry blender or 2 forks, cut the cold butter into the flour mixture until the largest bits are about the size of a small pea. Be patient. It will happen.

Chop the berries coarsely (some big hunks are good!) and add to the flour mixture. Stir to combine.

Add the ricotta and buttermilk all at once. Stir with a rubber spatula until just combined. Knead the dough a few times with your hands then dump it out onto a well-floured surface. Pat the dough into a round about 2 inches high. You can add a little more flour to the top of the dough to prevent it from sticking to your hands if it's super sticky.

Use a sharp knife and a steady hand to slice the round into 8 even wedges. Carefully transfer each wedge to the prepared baking sheet.

Bake 15-18 minutes until the scones are golden brown and dry and crisp at the edges. Remove the pan from the oven and allow to cool for a few minutes before transferring the scones to a wire rack to cool completely.

If you really want to do it up, serve them alongside balsamic strawberry jam with cracked pepper or vanilla mascarpone cream. May the sweet flavor sustain you until the return of berry season!

Bacon Chocolate Chip Biscuits

Roo has a thing for Mo's Dark Chocolate Bacon Bar from Vosges. In fact he relishes his "chocolate bacon" so much that he received the Mini Bacon Chocolate Library for Christmas. By now we're all well-versed in the trend. Bacon and chocolate, chocolate and bacon. Old news, right?

But how about the crispest brown sugar-crusted bacon to ever grace your lips entwined with gooey, bittersweet chocolate wrapped in the warm buttery hug of a fluffy, buttermilk biscuit?

That's what I thought.

This all started because Deb over at Smitten Kitchen has this recipe in her killer new cookbook (which, in my house is already dog-eared and exploding with butter stains and a rainbow of post-it-notes) for Maple Bacon Biscuits. I like bacon. Bacon is my friend. There's a jar of bacon grease living on my kitchen window sill. It's kind of like a sun catcher but way more utilitarian. But maple syrup? Eh.

Born and raised in the Great Northeast it's a sacrilege to shun maple syrup, but I can't help it. It just doesn't do it for me, unless it's in a cocktail shaker with a few fingers of bourbon and lots of freshly squeezed lemon juice but that's a story for another day.

 Chocolate, though. Chocolate I can get behind in all its guises.

We're going to be candying some bacon in a minute here. It's crucial to point out that once you have completed this process you will never be the same. From this day forward you will in all likelihood require brown sugar-crusted bacon on peanut butter (or in our case, SunButter) toast. You will sprinkle it on frosted cupcakes. You will use it to garnish pasta, spinach salads, and in homemade granola. You might even find yourself tossing the last few crumbles into a French press along with the coffee grounds just to see. I thought I had better let you know.

Bacon Chocolate Chip Biscuits
Inspired by The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook
makes 12 2-inch biscuits

6 slices thick-cut bacon (about 6 ounces)
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
3 cups all-purpose flour
4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
8 tbsp (1 stick) cold butter, diced
4 tbsp cold bacon fat (or 4 additional tbsp cold butter, diced)
1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips
1 scant cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil (trust me here). Place a metal cross wire cooling rack on top of the foil lined baking sheet. Spread the brown sugar in a shallow dish and dredge the bacon slices from tip to tail on both sides, pressing the sugar to make it stick. Lay the coated bacon on the wire rack. Bake for 20-30 minutes until the bacon is very crisp and dark at the edges. Let the bacon cool slightly, use a spatula to release the strips from the wire rack, then cool completely. Chop into small pieces.

Turn the oven up to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat mat. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Use a pastry cutter or two forks to cut in the cold butter and bacon fat until the largest clumps are the size of small peas. (If you don't happen to keep a jar of bacon fat on your window sill like me, all is not lost. You can safely substitute more butter for the bacon fat, though I suggest you consider reserving your bacon grease going forward. Try it on roasted Brussels sprouts instead of oil and top with what else? Candied bacon!)

Stir in the chopped bacon bits and chocolate chips. Add the buttermilk all at once and stir gently until just combined. Dump the dough onto a well floured surface and knead it a couple of times until it holds together. The less you handle it the better. Gently press the dough to a 1-inch thickness. Use a 2-inch biscuit cutter or inverted drinking glass to cut out 12 biscuits. Place the biscuits on the parchment lined baking sheet and bake for 12-15 minutes until the tops are light golden brown.

Egg-Free Crispy Parmesan Chicken and Arugula Salad

Okay, excuse me for a moment but I am temporarily blinded by the cuteness that is this boy. Don't worry, it won't last long. It never does. Any minute there will be a defiant glance, a whine, a covert squeal-inducing pinch for a sister passing by. But for right now, in this moment, this boy, is super adorable, wonderfully agreeable, and to top it all off he's one heck of a chicken dredger. Screw egg allergies. Thanks to buttermilk, my boy can dredge.

Don't worry. Everybody gets their hands dirty.

Now, I've read the literature and I realize my kids are supposed to love chicken nuggets. They don't. I can't take credit for this since I have no idea what I did to incite their contempt for fast food. Honestly with the restaurant limits Roo's allergies place on us, I am not above a stop at the golden arches on a road trip if it means he can eat without going into anaphylactic shock. One health concern at a time, you know? Still, the KC kids would much prefer me to travel with a hunk of Parmesan cheese and a few apples in my purse than to suggest they eat nuggets for lunch.

So maybe your kids adore chicken nuggets, maybe they don't. That's really not the point. The point is, that this crispy crunchy golden chicken is way better than any old chicken nuggets. Whether they do or do not appreciate nuggets currently, if they go crazy for Parmesan cheese like mine do, they will likely enjoy this chicken. And bonus, it's one big nutritional step up from the ones you-know-who serves in a cardboard box. Use organic chicken, add a green salad, and you might as well start searching out wall space for your parent of the year plaque.

Looly teaching the art of finely grated Parmesan to a rapt audience

 Egg-Free Crispy Parmesan Chicken

1 cup buttermilk
1 cup flour
3 cups panko
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 tsp kosher salt, divided
1/2 tsp black pepper, divided
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, pounded to 1/2-inch thickness
2 tbsp canola oil

1. Pour buttermilk into a shallow dish. Set aside. Pour flour, 1/2 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper into a separate shallow dish, mix to combine and set aside. Combine panko, grated Parmesan cheese, remaining 1/2 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper in a third dish. Stir to combine.
2. Heat a large NON-non-stick (got that? we want the stick here!) skillet over medium heat, add 1 tbsp of the oil.
3. Dip pounded chicken breasts, one at a time, in buttermilk. Allow excess to drip off then dredge in flour, followed by a second dip in buttermilk, and finally dredge in panko mixture.
4. Place half the chicken breasts into hot skillet and cook, flipping once, until crisp and golden brown on the outside and cooked through (about 4 minutes per side, depending on size). Repeat with remaining chicken.

Arugula Salad

3 cups arugula
1 large tomato, chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp shallots, minced
1/4 cup good quality olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 ounce Parmesan cheese

1. Combine arugula and chopped tomato in a large bowl.
2. To make the dressing, combine lemon juice, mustard, shallots, salt and pepper in a small bowl. Slowly whisk in olive oil. Pour dressing over salad. Top with shaved Parmesan.

Buttermilk Biscuits with Garlic Chive Butter

Earlier this week we made our own butter and buttermilk. Then we put them to work in Buttermilk Biscuits with Garlic Chive Butter.

Buttermilk Biscuits
Adapted slightly from Alton Brown

2 cups flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt
4 tbsp. butter
1 cup buttermilk, chilled

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees
2. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Cut in the butter using a pastry cutter or two forks until the dough resembles course crumbs. Make a well in the center, pour in buttermilk. Mix only until the dough comes together. No more than absolutely necessary.
3. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface. Knead 5-6 times and press to a 1-inch thickness. Cut out biscuits with a 2-inch round cutter (the rim of a glass will also work in a pinch). Place biscuits on a baking sheet so their edges just touch. Reform dough and repeat.
4. Bake until fluffy and light golden brown, about 15-20 minutes. Serve warm with more butter, jam, or garlic chive butter.

Garlic Chive Butter

1/4 cup unsalted butter (homemade if possible)
1 small clove garlic, finely minced
2 tbsp. chives, finely chopped
pinch salt

Bring butter to room temperature. Mix in garlic, chives, and salt. Let stand for several minutes to blend flavors. Spread on warm buttermilk biscuits.

Homemade Butter, Shaken Not Stirred

Little House on the Prairie is more than just a series around here. It's a way of life. I have Laura Ingalls Wilder's biggest fan in residence. We often play "Little House" which mostly entails three pioneer children, Laura, Mary, and Carrie, diligently and obediently carrying out whatever task Ma or Pa Ingalls might need done at any given time. As far as parent participation games go, this is my favorite.

This week we embraced our inner pioneer spirit by churning our own butter. The process is so very simple, especially when you can run to Costco to buy a half gallon of of heavy cream, yet so satisfying.

Start with a good amount of heavy cream. We used about 2 quarts, but there's no need to measure. Let the cream sit out until it's room temperature. Cold cream takes much longer to convert and if your kids are anything like mine, this makes all the difference between fun active science experiment and grueling upper body workout.

Pour the cream into a spill-proof container. We used plastic Tupperware containers with screw lids, but whatever you've got that you can shake without spilling should work just fine. Just be sure to leave plenty of room for expansion. Alternatively you can whip the cream with a mixer but we had a lot more fun shaking ours into submission. 

Start shaking. And shaking. And then shake some more. The cream will start to expand until it becomes whipped cream. At this point we unscrewed the lids and everyone had a taste.

Put the lids back on and shake some more. When it feels like you're shaking a solid lump of clay, keep going, you're almost there.

 Success!

 

Drain off the liquid buttermilk using a cheesecloth or other thin piece of fabric as a sieve. An old dinner napkin worked for us. Reserve the buttermilk for pancakes, biscuits or other pioneer-inspired treat. Rinse the butter in cold water and drain repeatedly through the cheesecloth until the water is clear. Place the solid butter on a flat surface and squeeze out as much liquid as possible using a spatula or the back of a spoon. That's it! 

Fresh homemade butter fit for Ma Ingalls' table.