Teri Light

In the aftermath of the attack, My Beloved brought home sympathy presents for Cora and me. Cora got a package of stew meat that I will make into stew for her as soon as the vet okays it. He gave me a bouquet of mixed bright flowers, a small box of chocolates, a dozen tangerines and a tri-tip roast. You'd think it was I who got her ear bitten.

Mild weather always makes me think of barbecuing and we were having gloriously sunny, warm weather so I thought about a marinade for the tri-tip. I was in the mood for teriyaki but didn't want the sweet, heavy flavors, so I experimented with what I'm calling Teri Light.

Orange peel, light soy sauce, chopped green garlic, sugar, ginger, rice vinegar, orange juice, pepper, tri-tip. I can't really tell you how much of each I used, just sort of splashed them into a baggie, tasting and changing until it tasted sweet-tart-salt-lightly spicy, then popped the meat in and left it out on the counter for about an hour while I prepped the Weber, started the fire and made a lemony dipping sauce for the accompanying artichokes. Oh, and I turned the baggie a few times during that hour to marinate all sides of the roast.

I grilled it for about 7-10 minutes per side over a medium-hot fire. The result was killer, exactly what I had hoped, with all the teriyaki flavors laid very lightly over the beefy goodness. We had trouble restraining ourselves. I quickly popped the leftovers into the fridge to get them out of sight. Cora was looking hopeful and pathetic (did I mention that she graduated summa cum laude from the Sarah Bernhardt School of Acting?), so after dinner I cut up the last slice on my plate into small bits, which she took ever so gently from my fingers.

Irish Despite The Orange

It seems disrespectful to add anything orange to food as typically Irish as soda bread, but I confess that I, a daughter of the Auld Sod, did just that and on St. Patty's Day, no less!

I added orange peel to the traditional raisins and caraway seeds.

You see, Cookiecrumb and Cranky had gifted me with some of the wonderful navel oranges from their tree, and the peel of those oranges is as good as the insides. Preparing to start the soda bread, I stopped to peel an orange for snacking, and inspiration struck.

I used my zester to peel thin strips of the vibrant orange skin, chopped the strips into half inch pieces, and mixed them into the dough. The result was deeply fragrant bread dotted with sweet pockets of dark raisins, zingy spots of orange and just a hint of caraway under all that goodness.

I was wearing green and singing "Irish Eyes" as I committed this blasphemy - I hope that will compensate enough that my Irish ancestors will forgive me.

Irish Soda Bread with Orange Peel, adapted from Gourmet magazine, October 1991

4 cups bread flour (I used all-purpose unbleached and it was fine)
1 Tablespoon double-acting baking powder
1 teaspoon salt (another time, I might add just a tad more)
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup raisins or dried currants, rinsed in hot water and patted dry
1 Tablespoon caraway seeds (a bit more of these wouldn't hurt, either, next time)
zest of one orange, orange part only, cut into thin strips of about 1/2 inch in length
2 cups buttermilk

Into a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients and stir in the raisins, caraway seeds and orange peel. Add the buttermilk and stir the mixture until it forms a dough. Turn out onto a well-floured surface and knead briefly, about one minute.

Shape two equal round loaves out of the dough and place them on buttered parchment paper on a baking sheet. (You can omit the parchment, if you want, but it makes cleanup a lot easier). Cut an X 1/4 inch deep across the tops with a sharp knife and bake the loaves in the middle of a preheated 350 degree F oven for 45-55 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Transfer the loaves to a rack to cool.

Rub Conversion

I've been slow to jump on the rub bandwagon, generally preferring the fresh flavors of foods to dominate and not usually being a lighthouse customer, but a few months ago Sam and Naomi gifted me with a bottle of Penzey's Northwoods Fire seasoning and last night I was looking for something a little novel to do with my fresh Coho salmon.

I searched epicurious.com and found an interesting-sounding recipe for Salmon Steak with Orange-Balsamic Glaze (did I mention that I had two oranges left from the ones Cookiecrumb and Cranky gave me?) but the comments were just so-so. Then, I had the idea of first rubbing the salmon with the Northwoods Fire before marinating it as described in the recipe. Oh, baby, was this ever a hit! The Northwoods Fire gave it a little heat, the marinade mellowed and sweetened the blaze, and the grill did the rest. Served with some bright green broccoli and, yes, those are baked potato chips you see on the plate (not homemade), it was a major feast.

Reluctantly Rubbed Salmon

I used a fillet of salmon rather than a steak and it worked fine.

1 nice piece of wild Coho salmon, either steak or fillet
Penzey's Northwoods Fire Seasoning* to taste - I used a light rub, just enough to cover all sides.
1/4 cup orange juice and the zest from the orange
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbs olive oil
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 Tbs. finely chopped fresh rosemary (use less of the dried kind)
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Vegetable cooking spray

Rub the salmon on both sides (mine had the skin still on) with the Northwoods Fire. Let it stand while you combine all the other ingredients except the cooking spray in a zip top plastic baggie or a pan. Add the salmon and smoosh it around until all sides are in contact with the marinade.

The original recipe calls for marinating an hour in the fridge but I'm impatient and my salmon was nicely fresh so I just left it on the counter for about 15-20 minutes while I set the table, fed the dog and heated the Jenn-Air grill (I'm sure a grill pan would work great, too) and sprayed it with the cooking spray.

Remove the salmon from the marinade, drain it briefly and slap it on the hot grill, skin side down first. Cook for about five minutes, then flip and the skin should peel right off in a single sheet. You can discard it or save it for 'cracklings.' Continue grilling to desired doneness; one nice thing about a fillet is that one side is thicker than the other so I can give My Beloved his favored seared-on-the-outside-rare-on-the-inside piece at the same time as I get my cooked-through-but-still-moist portion.

This dish was so delicious that I'll be rubbing all kinds of meats from now on! That sounds vaguely naughty, doesn't it? Oh, well, converts are always the most intense believers, aren't they?

*The Northwoods Fire is a blend of paprika and hotter peppers, salt, yadda, so you could approximate it if you prefer, but I'd recommend just getting this lovely stuff from Penzey's.

Chicken Soup for the Cold

Who cares about the soul? I have a cold and all I care about is having enough tissues, enough fluids and enough chicken soup. I hate colds.

Luckily, I had some homemade chicken stock with chicken bits in the freezer when this particular bug bit me, so I added a handful each of chopped onion, celery and rice to that and simmered it until it was a comforting lunch. As you can see, I rather overdid the rice portion and while it was warming and tasty, it wasn't very pretty.

Until I had the idea to add orange zest, that is!

I figured that the Vitamin C in the zest would be good for me and the bright taste might actually penetrate my woefully stuffy nose. Guess what? It did! The flavor of the soup was immeasurably improved by the zest and, another time, I'd add bigger pieces while the soup simmered, just for that added kick.

I feel better already.

Zesty Bellybuttons

When Cookiecrumb slipped me a bag of navel oranges from her garden, she said, "Save the peels! The zest is the best part of these oranges."

She was correct, even though the fruit itself has been wonderfully sweet and juicy, too. We've been zesting everything in the past couple of weeks, adding a touch of orange to many different foods, enjoying all kinds of new ideas.

So far, the very best application I have found has been on broccoli. Not only does the bright orange zest enhance the color of the broccoli, the flavor of the zest, a little salt and a tiny dab of butter lifts a plain winter veg like broccoli into the heavenly category. Now that navels are in the stores in great profusion, don't forget to save the skins and add a little to your plain winter veggies.

Halibut Riff

Look familiar? Yes, this is the same preparation that the Italian Dish recommended for scallops but, having eaten one too many scallops in my youth, I seem to have developed an allergy to them - or maybe it's just an aversion. In any case, I wanted to try the orange-and-dried-herb combo on halibut.

Both My Beloved and I actually preferred the halibut this way to the scallops. The mild flavor of the fish was enriched by the sauteeing, the strong herbs and the freshness of the oranges. We will add this one under "Keepers" to our permanent recipe file.

Friendship Fruit

Do you remember Friendship Fruit?

'Way back in the '70s, there was a craze for Friendship Fruit, a sicky sweet combination of canned fruits swimming in brandy that was the starter for a cake or to be poured over ice cream. The idea was that you had to get it from a friend who had gotten it from a friend, and you kept adding fruit and hooch and passing it along. To me, it always seemed like a thinly-veiled excuse to get high.

Anyway, here in sunny California 40 years later, we have redefined Friendship Fruit. We just trade fresh fruit that we grow or liberate from neighbors' yards with our blog friends, and then post about what we made with it. The oranges for this recipe came from Cookiecrumb and Cranky, when we met for coffee. They got my neighbor's grapefruits in return.

I found a recipe that sounded just right for My Beloved, who loves scallops, on the beautiful blog, The Italian Dish. The whole concoction worked like a champ but, interestingly, only once the sea salt was added at the end. I had neglected this last flourish and found the dish disappointingly bitter but when we remembered and added the salt, it changed the entire profile of the flavors remarkably and changed a so-so dish to a really wonderful one!

So, the moral of the story is "Use the Friendship Fruit and Don't Forget The Salt!"