Mostly Wholesome

Crafting Kitchen Confidence

Mains

Rosemary Squash Fusilli

Corinne and I bought a fat ugly peanut pumpkin (AKA Galeux d’Eysines) early in October that pureed down to like 3.5 gallon sized Ziploc bags worth of pumpkin. That’s a lot of pumpkin by most standards, even for pumpkin lovers. Corinne isn’t a pumpkin lover and I have historically LOVED one piece of pumpkin pie, one piece of pumpkin bread, and maybe one pumpkin spice latte per season before getting over it.

Much like our one-eared cat or favorite busted up coffee mug; this peanut pumpkin was ugly, rejected, and instantly won over my heart. I knew it was destined for deliciousness. The folks at Whole Foods didn’t even know what it was, how to charge for it at first, or why I could possibly want such a hideous warty monster, which was oddly satisfying for me…

Anyway – even though we made all that puree to experiment with various breads, cakes, and other sweets – this little pasta dish proved to be our absolute favorite use of the squash. It is creamy without being heavy, flavorful without being overwhelming, and filling without making you lethargic. It’s like the perfect comfort food for when you don’t have a couch to immediately crash on afterwards.

I definitely recommend sticking with the fusilli pasta style (although I suspect tagliatelle would also work well), because those little corkscrews do a magical job at capturing all that creamy squashy goodness in every bite. As for the sausage, it is completely optional and this would make a very hearty vegetarian dish, I personally enjoy the added texture and flavor.

Buttercrust Deep Dish Pizza

I won’t call this a Lou Malnati’s copycat recipe to hopefully save Corinne and I from the perpetual recipe battle found online about this topic. But this is a Lou’s copycat recipe. And we think it’s pretty damn tasty.

I slightly modified a recipe found in the comments section of a question posed on the Serious Eats website about a good buttercrust recipe. In my research on the subject (which consisted of reading the comments section of recipe posts and watching the Lou Malnati’s ingredient series on Youtube) I came across a couple of myth’s that I am going to venture to address:

  1. Corn Oil = Cheap Alternative to Olive Oil
    Most folks online seem to be confident that several Chicago establishments use corn oil in their dough. It also seems like many believe that this is for cost reasons. I would have assumed the same had it not been for one comment (source pending) that I saw mentioning that the corn oil actually helps impart that buttery nuttiness that makes buttercrust a buttercrust. I decided to give it a gamble and used a mixture of fats – 3 Tbsp corn oil, 2 tsp good olive oil, greased the pan with butter – voila.
  2. Fresh Mozzarella = Good Mozzarella
    This is one I learned while trying to make Nepoletana pizza a few years ago. That dream died after realizing my crappy little Milwaukee apartment’s oven simply didn’t have the heat to melt fresh mozzarella properly. To be fair, fresh mozzarella is AMAZING, but it is not the only amazing type of mozzarella. The aged alternative, firm and creamy, is the way to go for any pizza. Lou’s sources their cheese from an artisan in Wisconsin, I source mine from a cheese monger in Eastern Market, you can source yours from anywhere you find mozzarella you like – just don’t use the fresh stuff!
  3. Cornmeal = Crunchy Golden Crust
    I don’t blame anyone for thinking that cornmeal would be used for a golden color and extra crispy crust – after all, corn bread is both of those things in a big way. BUT, I think it is safe to say no cornmeal is required or recommended for Chicago deep dish. Use All Purpose flour (I use White Lily, being the blind follower of Kenji that I am), and if you miss the golden color, toss in a pinch of turmeric or yellow food coloring.

I wouldn’t call my research intensive with any seriousness, but it was apparently enough to pull off a pie that made this Chicago suburbanite feel a little closer to the Midwest on this aptly stifling but gorgeous summer night.

Chickpea Falafel

We all have those foods that could make us salivate at the mere mention of them. Falafel fall in that category for me. Drop the word falafel, and you’re gonna hear me squeal. Yes, squeal. Because falafel are so, incredibly tasty. And I’m not the only one susceptible to their magnetism —  not only do I have so much passion for this food, but the food and its history has the tendency to provoke a lot of controversy and intense emotion.

Chickpea Falafel with Tzatziki

I get it: you may not be as hot for falafel as I am. Taste is very individual. Judging someone for their food tastes is like judging them for the type of music they like or the people they love. We crave what we crave, sometimes inexplicably so. Just because it ain’t your thing doesn’t mean it’s not someone else’s, but we still have plenty of crave-worthy food for you to take a crack at making. Check out any one of our other recipes if falafel isn’t what you have a hankering for.

Raw ingredients for chickpea falafel: chickpeas, parsley, onion, lemon

Falafel are deep-fried balls made from chickpeas, fava beans, or a combination of both. The ones we’re making in this post require chickpeas (a.k.a garbanzos), and our process is an adaptation of Mark Bittman’s Falafel recipe featured in the New York Times.

Steak Sandwich

I used to eat far too much steak. Like, making the Wisconsin supper clubs of my youth realllll nervous when I walked into their Bottomless Filet Mignon Sunday Special. I am no stranger to pushing the limits of human consumption and wrestling with the meat sweats an hour later. I’m glad to say I am *mostly* past that part of my life and can control how much steak I inhale.

When I say *mostly*, I say that because the introduction of the sous vide to my life has been a real tasty adventure. I basically just Google “Kenji Sous Vide [Insert Delicious Food]” (since Kenji Lopez-Alt has pretty much sous vide everything, and anything he hasn’t, the team at Chef Steps has) and follow his instructions. When it comes to the steak for this recipe, I actually veered away from Kenji and followed Vincent Meli’s instructions. That being said, you can cook the steak anyway you like!

Pulled Pork Open Faced Sandwich

Pork has always quietly been one of my biggest loves. I like it any time of day, hot or cold, pulled or sliced, on a sandwich, in a soup, next to my eggs, you name it.

James Beard said “If I had to narrow my choice of meats down to one for the rest of my life, I am quite certain that meat would be pork.” It was this quote that led me to realize how deep my love for pork really runs. At first, I skeptically shook my head for a few moments (as I’m prone to do) – I mean, how is pork any different from other proteins? Surely beef and chicken are just as versatile…

Right?

Pulled Pork Open-Faced Sandwich

Absolutely! NOT! After considering a life without pork as compared to a life without any other meat, I realized that the man is undeniably right. Between sinfully fatty pork belly, to the staple sausage breakfast sandwich, to bacon and eggs, to porchetta, to delicately smoked and pulled pork… this delicacy gets me up in the morning and puts me right back to sleep at night. I tip my hat to those who don’t consume pork on account of their beliefs, you folks are a lot stronger than I will ever be.

While I can ramble about my love for pork for hours, you came here with a purpose. That purpose was a sexy looking pulled pork sandwich. Pulled pork is particularly high on my list of delicious things in the world. From the Hawaiian Kalua Pork prepared in a traditional imu to Mayan Conchita Pibil prepared in a pit to the perfectly smoky pork shoulder prepared sous vide in my very unexotic kitchen, it’s a warm blanket of happiness for me that beats out Mac N Cheese, Meatloaf, Soup, Sloppy Joes, Mashed Potatoes, and any other comfort foods any day of the week.

The sous vide pork shoulder in this recipe comes from Mr Kenji Lopez-Alt, the man who, as my father puts it, “wrote the book that Matthew wishes he could’ve written”. It isn’t an untrue statement, but that doesn’t mean I like hearing it… The BBQ sauce is from the same recipe, I always use Bone Suckin’ Sauce as the base.

I warn you, the following sandwich is pretty addictive and perfect to prepare for any BBQ event – just as long as you make enough caramelized onion spread. If you asked a friend if they would ever eat half an onion in one sitting, I’m pretty confident they would give you a resounding “What?! No!.” Now slide some buttery caramelized magic in front of them and watch them devour enough onion and garlic to ward off a legion of vampires.

And now, enough chit chat – let’s eat some damn pig.

American Pasta Carbonara

I haven’t written in a long time. Not for myself, anyway. I have an infinite number of ideas swirling around in my brain — fragments of intros, mounds of clever copy, poetic verses and lyrics galore. But what stops me? Excuses. Bottom line, lots and lots of excuses keep me from lifting the laptop cover or picking up a pen and paper. And an overwhelming, paralyzing fear that stems from that annoying monkey on my back: perfectionism. I’m a Type A control freak, and although I have the writing chops, I haven’t been able to dive into this blog. Matt and I have gone round and round the discussion board for two years now, developing our concept, our mission, our strategy, and it’s all there. But what we — or in all honesty, more so I  — have struggled the most with is action.

Well, here’s action. Someone once told me that you should write what you know. I honestly cannot remember whom said what — maybe a professor at one of the many universities I attended during my academic rite of passage, but memory keeps aiming to a moment during much younger school years. Who stated it doesn’t matter as much as the words themselves do. Matthew will happily credit Stephen King here

So what do I know? Pasta carbonara americano, the way my mama makes it. (Tangent: Circling back to that perfectionism monkey, I just took ten minutes grappling with momma v. mama, and I’m still not content with my choice. Moving along…)

From the Mountains of My Abruzzo

Pasta carbonara americano is truly one of my biggest comfort foods. It’s a dish that will always take me back home no matter where I am, and it’s a meal that can bring me so much elation on even the gloomiest of days. Whenever my mom made it for me and my sister, I always felt like I was getting a tiny piece of my heritage. My maternal grandmother was from the Abruzzo region in Italy, born in the States but later moved back to Italy with her parents when she was eight. They experienced the trials of Ellis Island when immigrating to this country, eventually settling and making a home in Boston. As a typical, third-generation, Caucasian American, I am always grasping at whatever culture I can claim or learn about regarding my family. (I’ve taken two DNA tests by now and am already looking into a third.) My current personal project entails researching these Abruzzo roots, but enough on that for now.

Before I launch into a personal anecdote, I want to briefly note that this recipe is my mother and grandmother’s take on pasta carbonara americano. This is not to be confused with the more traditional pasta carbonara italiano and how the dish is typically prepared in Italy. Both are incredibly tasty dishes. My personal bias leans towards americano, but Matt is all about that pancetta used in carbonara italiano. 🙂

Obviously, this is a dish that means a lot to me. I’ll quit rambling so we can get to cooking.