My second challenge: Same time frame, narrower focus. This time, it was grassfed beef and pastured chicken and pork.

As promised, here’s a look at those two cooking classes, each attended by ten persons. (You can read the course descriptions and reader suggestions here.)

Cooking 101

What went right:  Class participants unanimously liked the hands-on aspect of the class. There were few enough in class that they each took a turn at the counter or burner trying and demonstrating cooking techniques. That allowed them to be involved and allowed me to make suggestions on how to do things better. We covered measuring, differences in baking (relatively exact) vs. general cooking (relatively forgiving), a general discussion of cookware, the benefits of mis en place (getting everything ready in advance), and general encouragement. I prepared great handouts, if I do say so. And the food tasted good.

What went wrong: Created a small-scale explosion (of the FOOMP! variety) in trying to use a portable propane burner; had to restart omelet-cooking after burning (or very nearly burning) butter in a too-hot pan on that very-hot-burning burner; took too long to get food samples on the tables, and took too long in general to prepare the food, at least partly because the students were doing the prep work. As a result, the last part of the class was rushed, and I didn’t get to discuss meal planning or most of the handouts.

Next time: I don’t know whether I’d try this one again. My pedagogical goals were too ambitious for the 2-hour time slot. A series would probably be better.

Grass-fed & pastured meats

What went right:  Participants asked good questions, and samples were ready in a reasonably timely fashion. The hamburger was excellent.

What went wrong: Chicken took longer to cook than expected. Top round steak (instead of chuck steak as I’d used in the past) cooked faster than expected and as a result was a little tough. Too much down time because I was overprepared. After having to rush the end of the previous class, I got darned near everything ready in advance and then had to stand around and talk while waiting for dishes to finish.

Next time: I’d prepare the sauces during class, and I’d ask the butcher to cut the chicken into parts for faster cooking and easier serving.

Will I do it again?

I need to ponder whether I’ll do classes again. They are a lot of work, and the best teachers of these kinds of classes are entertainers, which has not been my forte. I doubt I’ll develop the perfect timing of the professional chefs who also give these classes.

At the same time, both these classes are on topics that I think are important and that I really wish more people would learn about. I’d be interested in your thoughts.

In the meantime, here are some of the handouts (PDFs) if you are interested:

• Conversions
• Glossary for beginning cooks
• Grain-cooking guide
• Menu planning grid
• Substitutions

Can corn on the cob relieve anxiety? Probably not, but maybe writing about it will.

The project I’m working on has me in a knot of anxiety, which I hate. I’m not usually an anxious person. I do like writing on this blog, though, so as a reward to myself for a day of teeth-gnashing on the book project, I offer up this quick post on the world’s easiest way to cook corn on the cob.

1. Inspect

Peek inside top of corn ear to make sure it doesn’t have a worm. (I don’t want to cook worms.)

2. Cook

Put the whole ear in the microwave, and zap it for 2 minutes. Turn it over and zap 1 minute. Remove from microwave and wait a minute or two.

3. Shuck

Using a towel or hot pads (the ear and its contents are hot!), pull back the corn husks and pull away the silks. If you haven’t cooked a whole ear before, you will not believe how easily the silks pull off when the ear has been cooked.

4. Eat

Adding butter is optional, but I kind of like it.

Anxiety arrested

I feel better now. I haven’t tried this with more than one ear at a time. I don’t know why it wouldn’t work with more. Just increase the cooking time, I reckon.

A remarkable number of common flowers are edible, and they make wonderful taste and color garnishes for your cooking.

Case in point: I recently attended a potluck to which I contributed a salad composed primarily of fresh-from-the-market lettuce and spinach. For color and added flavor interest I added some end-of-season orange slices, chives, goat cheese and, from my yard, violets. They’re approaching the end of their spring bloom, but what a great addition to the salad’s eye appeal.

Other common flowers that you can eat include the famous, peppery nasturtium, peonies, day lilies and the flowers from lots of culinary herbs. (Don’t eat anything that’s been sprayed.) What’s Cooking America offers a a list with notes.

Do you say it with flowers?

Like lots of cooks, I long ago learned how to make Leek & Potato Soup. It’s a standard-bearer of the maxim, “less is more.” Somewhere along the line, though, I quit making it, and yesterday I righted that wrong. It warmed me to the bone.

With what’s left, I can enjoy that wonderful flavor again, just as it is, or use it as the base for countless soup variations. Not bad for a soup I had it on the stove in less than 15 minutes.

Leek & potato soup

• 1 pound russet potatoes (baking-type potatoes), about 2 medium potatoes
• 1 pound leeks
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 2 quarts water
• 2-3 tablespoons butter, cream or half-and-half (which I used)
• Fresh minced parsley or chives for garnish (see note)

1. Peel and dice potatoes. Wash leeks well to remove sand (see below), then slice.
2. Place potatoes, leeks, salt and water in 3-4 quart pan. Bring to a boil, then simmer until vegetables are tender, about 45 minutes. Mash or puree vegetables.
3. Remove from heat, then stir in butter, cream or half-and-half. Serve in warm bowl with minced herbs for garnish. Makes 8 servings.

Note: Lacking parsley and chives, I minced up some celery leaves. They, being a paler green, weren’t quite as pretty in the soup as the herbs would have been, but they worked, and I even liked the flavor.

Variations: You can add chopped greens, carrots, peas or other vegetables toward the end of the cooking, allowing just enough time to cook them. Feel free also to add even closer to the end already-cooked (read: leftover) vegetables or diced chicken. Or try some other combination that appeals to you. This is a great start to many other soups.

Cleaning leeks

As I understand it, leeks get some of their distinctive personality from having sandy dirt piled up around each stalk as it grows. The parts under cover stay white and tender. They also can get gritty. To make the cleanup easier, do this:

1. Trim off root end and dark, tough leaves.
2. Cut through the leaf end in half both vertically and horizontally:
3. Immerse the thus-prepped leeks in water for a few minutes. (You can weight them with a plate to hold them underwater.)
4. Swirl the leeks vigorously through the water to rinse away the now-softened/loosened dirt.
5. Rinse again under running water, and use as desired.

How to: Membrane-free citrus sections

1. First slice off top an bottom of the fruit with a knife, aiming to cut through the peel and just down to the outer membranes.

2. Next, cut off the outer peel in the same way…

Until you have yourself a naked grapefruit.

3. Now, insert your knife blade between the flesh of one section and its outer membrane, and gently cut to the “core” of the fruit.

4. When the blade hits the relatively hard center, rotate the blade toward the other side of the section. You might need to saw just a bit to start, but the section will lift quite easily out of its last bit of “casing” at this stage.

Repeat the process with each section of the fruit. You might want to work over a bowl to catch the juices.

5. When you’re done, you have a bowl full of sections and juice and a little flower of grapefruit membranes.

Footnotes

I might add that this process is much easier than taking pictures of yourself while doing it, even with the benefit of a tripod and a camera timer. Thus, the focus isn’t always ideal, but, hopefully, you can see what’s going on.

By the way, if you work quickly, you might wind up with a little grapefruit flesh clinging to some of those membranes. If so, just go back through after you’ve removed all the sections and lift/scrape off the remaining fruit.

Grapefruit is in season and is wonderfully juicy. Try it for a change for nice flavor and color in salads or desserts. Having your sections without the membranes isn’t necessary (and, in fact, provides less fiber), but preparing them this way certainly highlights their color and makes for a more elegrant presentation.

What do you do when someone gives you nearly a peck of (unpickled) hot peppers like these? If you’re like me, you freeze them. (Of course, you could also pickle them.)

I no doubt harmed their quality by letting them sit in the fridge for a week, but then I dug in. I washed them, lopped off their tops, split them lengthwise and removed membranes and seeds with a quick flip of a paring knife. Then I filled two quart-size freezer bags with them and put them in the freezer. That was it.

Unlike most fruits and vegetables, you can freeze peppers—hot peppers or sweet (bell) peppers—without blanching. The University of Nebraska extension office says you don’t even need to cut your hot peppers. I did, though, because I wasn’t sure how hot these peppers might be. (They seemed too small for banana peppers, and I’m not sufficiently pepper-savvy to identify the type, but the friend who gave them to me said they were superhot. I finally tasted one about halfway through my exercise, and they weren’t all that hot.) No matter, they’re ready to go into soups, casseroles or wherever I want them. I can leave them halved or chop them later.

TIP: Don’t forget either to use fork and knife to hold and cut your hot peppers or to wear rubber gloves while you work unless you’re exceedingly tough like my brother-in-law. Hot pepper juice does burn—especially if you make the highly unfortunate mistake of getting it in any tender areas such as your eyes or nose.

• I got to cook for people I love, which is always a delight.
• I made a dish I haven’t made in I don’t know how long.
• I got to revel in the glory cast by these simple dishes.
• It reminded me of how much family cooking is negotiation.

When we sat down, you’d have thought I’d presented them something stupendous by serving Chicken Piccata and Abruzzi-Style Potatoes (along with broccoli and a bakery coconut cream pie). In fact, I simply presented things they frequently eat (chicken breasts and potatoes) but in ways they don’t usually eat them.

I wasn’t sure how the meal would be received, actually. Alan lobbied for beef or veal, which caused Maxine to wrinkle her nose. She wanted something that used some of the herbs she grew this year and preferred chicken or fish, which caused Alan to scowl, as he wanted a change from those mainstays of their home cooking. That’s when I thought of Chicken Piccata, which bears a taste resemblance to Veal Piccata, even if the texture’s a bit different. Thus Alan could have pretend veal, and Maxine could have chicken. In the process, they’d both get more butter than they typically use. The potatoes use lots of rosemary, so Maxine got her way there, too, but we went with the cream pie rather than a fruit pie to appease Alan.

Alas, I didn’t take pictures, but here are the recipes for the two featured dishes. I adapted them from recipes from two of Kansas City’s many noteworthy Italian cooks. These dishes are easy, and maybe a little outside your normal routine. Try them!

Chicken piccata

• 3 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breasts
• All-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons white pepper or to taste
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, or a mixture of 1/4 cup butter and 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1/2 cup white wine, or water
• Juce 4 lemons and slice remaining 2 lemons

1. Pound chicken with saucer edge or meat mallet until about 1/4-inch thick. Cut into serving-size pieces.
2. Dip each chicken piece in lemon juice then dredge lightly with flour and place on waxed paper. Sprinkle with white pepper. Reserve remaining lemon juice.
3. Heat butter in skillet over medium heat until hot but not smoking. Saute chicken pieces until golden brown, 2-3 minutes on each side. Work in batches if necessary so that chicken is not crowded. Remove to baking dish or pan, trying to keep in a single layer. Bake at 200 degrees for 20 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, brown lemon slices in pan drippings; remove slices and set aside.
5. Add remaining lemon juice and wine to pan drippings. Bring to a boil, and reduce by about half over medium heat while scraping brown bits from bottom of pan.
6. Remove chicken from oven, pour sauce mixture over, and top with browned lemon slices. Serve immediately. Makes 6-8 servings.

Abruzzi-style potatoes

• 3 pounds new potatoes, scrubbed
• 1/2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
• 2 tablespoons fresh rosemary leaves
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/4 olive oil
• Salt, to taste

1. Halve potatoes or cut into thick slices. (If potatoes are very small, leave whole. The aim is to have potato pieces of approximately the same size, good for one or two bites.)
2. Sprinkle pepper flakes, rosemary, garlic, olive oil and salt over potatoes. Toss to mix well.
3. Roast 40-50 minutes, turning occasionally, at 400 degrees, until browned. Potatoes will be crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Makes 6 servings.

Note: My friends didn’t have red pepper flakes, but a generous dose of ground black pepper worked very nicely.

Lemons photo courtesy Jane M. Sawyer, via morguefile.com.

I accidentally took this little storage method one step further. Eleven days ago, I got a little bunch of basil from Rolling Prairie Farmers Alliance. It seemed like too little to bother with making pesto, so I thought I’d just use leaves as the week progressed. I gave fresh cuts to the stems—what there was of them—and stuck them in a glass with about 1/2 inch (1 cm) of water. I figured that if it didn’t work, I’d make a little dabble of pesto anyway.

Well, it worked amazingly well: These were more like basil tops than stems of basil, which meant leaf connections were under water and, therefore, expected to rot. They did not. And the flavor remains good. And I didn’t use a plastic bag (though Lord knows it’s been plenty humid). And I haven’t added or changed the water. And they sprouted roots! I hadn’t remembered that from the past or from Marc’s post.

But here they are: My 10-day-old basil (photo was yesterday) above, and its roots, below.

By the way, if you do give your basil a whirl, here’s my preferred way of storing pesto.

I was shocked that she was shocked. (And Ruth, if it wasn’t you, I apologize.) I’m not opposed to following recipes to the letter, but I and most cooks I know look upon recipes as guidelines, not laws. There are several reasons for this:

• Not everyone’s taste is the same. Duh.
• Not everyone has the same ingredients available.
• Some people like to make adjustments for the fun of it.

Marcella and me

Case in point. I recently found myself with a bunch of summer squash and some flat Italian green beans that needed cooking. I was delighted to find that Marcella Hazan, whose cookbook Marcella Cucina I had recently acquired from my father’s estate, adores zucchini and has many recipes for it. Thus I settled on Zucchini, Green Beans, Bell Pepper and Basil. I proceeded to reduce the quantities, alter the method, change an ingredient and serve it not as a side dish but mixed with pasta. It was delicious!

Two versions of ZGBBPB

• 2 small yellow summer squash (hers: 1 pound young, small zucchini)
• 1/2 pound flat green beans (hers: 1 1/2 pounds green beans)
• 1 large mildly hot green pepper of unknown variety; it was about 6 inches long, the width and color of a green bell pepper but it came to a point at the bottom and had about the same heat as an Anaheim (hers: 1 meaty large yellow bell pepper)
• 1/3 pound fresh ripe firm tomatoes (hers: 1/2 pound of same or 1 cup canned imported plum tomatoes)
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, approximately (hers: 1/4 cup of same)
• 1 medium clove garlic, minced, probably about 2 teaspoons’ worth (hers: 1 tablespoon chopped)
• Salt (we agreed)
• Black pepper ground fresh (we agreed)
• A few basil leaves, snipped into strips (hers: 20 leaves, shredded fine with chopping knife. Who counts leaves?)

Her method

I won’t give you all her method details. Too much typing. Let’s just say I didn’t worry much about soaking the squash for 20 minutes before washing it. I didn’t soak the beans, either. After trying for 30 seconds to peel a tomato with a vegetable peeler per her suggestion, I said, “you’ve got to be kidding” and carried on.

My method

Anyway, my method follows. You’ll note that these steps aren’t in the order of the ingredients. That’s because Signora Hazan used four steps to describe the vegetable prep and then in step 5 started the cooking with the fifth and sixth ingredients. I’d rather see the prep included in the ingredients list, because I prep as I cook. You won’t find me resting while the first vegetables sizzle. I’ll be madly chopping the next ones to have them ready in time. Personal preference, I suppose, or an indication I try to do too much in too little time.

1. Snap ends off beans and break into 2- or 3-inch pieces. (Her: Keep ‘em whole.)
2. Heat oil and garlic in 12-inch pan over medium heat and cook until slightly soft. (Her: Cook till “pale, pale gold.”) Add beans, sprinkle with salt. Reduce heat to low. Cover, and cook 5 minutes.
3. Peel the pepper with a vegetable peeler. (Her idea, I did it, and it worked pretty well.) Remove seeds and pith, and cut into 1/2-inch strips. Cut strips into 2-inch lengths. (Her: Leave strips whole.) Add to the beans. Cook 5 more minutes.
4. Cut squash julienne. Seed and dice tomatoes. Add to pan with several grindings of pepper. Stir and turn ingredients to coat with oil and seasons. Cook uncovered at low simmer, stirring occasionally, 15-20 minutes. Her: “Taste for doneness—the beans should be firm but tender, and the pepper and some of the zucchini will have partly dissolved. Taste and correct for salt.” OK. No dissolving occurred in my pan, but I don’t care.
5. Her: “Off heat, swirl in the shredded basil and serve.” Me: Toss with hot cooked pasta (about 8 ounces dry). Sprinkle with basil and freshly grated Parmesan. Serve. Makes about 4 servings.

Net results

As I said, it was delicious, and I loved the zing the hot pepper gave. I combined the vegetables with spaghetti, because that’s what I had, although I think the eating would be better with penne or some other medium pasta, proof that I don’t even follow my directions if the ingredients require adapting.

I don’t know whether Marcella would approve of my ZGBBPB or not, but it worked with the ingredients I had, and I wouldn’t have thought of doing these ingredients this way without her. I’ll probably make it again, too. More or less.

I therefore set up my aging apple machine, peeled, cored and sliced the apples. I had to fuss a little, as the Lodi apples had deep seed husks and the meat wasn’t quite as firm as the peeler’s spring, so I had to jockey the blade arm a little so as not to remove most of the apple along with the peel. Plus, there was the darned, not entirely cooperative suction cup, whose face is more cracked and wrinkled than mine. Not that mine is, of course.

Ain’t it purty?

Anyway, I dropped the slices into water treated with a bit of citric acid, which is supposed to prevent browning.

Then I drained them, packed them into 1 pint freezer containers. (These really were 1 pint, I promise, aka 16 fluid ounces.) Then I stuck them in the freezer where they’ll remain until some time as I feel inclined to turn the oven on.

Learning from leftovers

I had a small quantity of slices left that wouldn’t fit in one of the three pints I filled and weren’t nearly enough to fill a fourth. I didn’t particularly care for the Lodi flavor raw, so I decided to make a mini apple crisp. It was delicious. In making it, however, I learned that Lodi apples turn to applesauce when baked, too. Which means, if I want an apple pie instead of an applesauce pie come fall, I’d better combine these with another kind of apple. Or, regarded another way, I could have made all the apples into applesauce and saved the peeling, coring and slicing for some other variety. No harm done. Lesson learned.

Apple crisp for one

• 1/2 cup-3/4 cup apple slices
• 2 tablespoons old-fashioned rolled oats
• 1 tablespoon packed brown sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons butter, softened or melted
• Cinnamon, to taste

1. Place apples in the bottom of a buttered individual casserole dish (ramekin).
2. Blend oats, brown sugar and butter, and distribute over apples. Sprinkle with cinnamon to taste.
3. Cook 1 minute on high in microwave. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes in toaster oven. (Test with fork, knife or toothpick to make sure apples are done.) Cool, and serve. Makes 1 serving.

Note: I started the dish in the microwave because I feared the top might burn if I did the entire bake in the oven. If your toaster oven is taller inside than mine is, you might not need to do the microwave start.