The Best Fajitas in the World – And They’re Vegan!!

Several years ago, my uncle retired from ranching and took up catering for rodeos in Texas (I know – not the best narrative for a vegan recipe!) His recipe won awards and was even featured in the San Antonio Express News. During my meat-eating days, I prepared this recipe for folks in New York, Toronto, Seattle, and Chicago and every time, it garnered praises. Here's the original recipe if you want to refer to it. The secret is that the fajitas are grilled first, and THEN placed in a hot, spicy marinade from which they’re served; sort of “backward”. The result is that the fajitas emerge super-juicy and bursting with big bold flavors. Perfect for the veggies we love.

I’ve done some tinkering and I’m happy to give you these award-winning fajitas – veganized!

This will feed 8-10 hungry folks

First, prepare the hot marinade:

MARINADE (Secret Sauce)

1 cup water

½ cup organic sugar

½ cup cider vinegar

1 Tbs. Annie’s Worcester sauce

2 tsp Tabasco

2 tsp minced garlic

1 tsp liquid smoke (the original recipe called for bacon fat)

1 tsp dry mustard

1 tsp chili powder

1 tsp salt

½ tsp pepper

Combine and simmer for 15 min. or while you grill the veggies. (Hint: You can easily make this the day before and refrigerate it. But don’t try freezing it for later use. It loses all its flavor. I’ve learned this the hard way.)

GRILLED VEGGIES (Use what veggies you like. Here’s what I use)

2 zucchini, sliced lengthwise

2 yellow squash, sliced lengthwise

2 red pepper, quartered

3 red onions, cut into six wedges, root left in

4 portabella mushrooms, sliced into thirds

6 jalapenos, left whole.

Slightly oil the veggies and grill on a really hot outdoor grill until well-charred. Slice into fajita-sized strips. (Remove the seeds and pith from the jalapenos) Pour hot marinade over veggies and set aside.

FILLING (couldn’t be easier)

1 12-oz vegan chorizo, removed from casing (I like Trader Joe’s)

1 14-oz can of refried beans (Again, TJ’s)

Combine and warm through.

GUACAMOLE

2 large ripe avocados

1 cup frozen corn, thawed (use raw corn if you have it – yum!)

1 tsp ground cumin

½ tsp salt

Smoosh everything together, except the corn, with a fork. Then fold in the corn.

ASSEMBLAGE:

Spread a spoonful of chorizo-bean filling on a large flour tortilla, top with grilled veggies, add guacamole and fresh cilantro.

Enjoy!!

Julia the Vixen

Julia Child as a senior intelligence officer with the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) while in Ceylon, 1944. 
Julia referred to this pose as one of "anticipatory lechery." 

Guacamole Compuesta

You know how it is at the end of an intense, difficult workday. Pretty much all you want to do is flop down, eat Capn' Crunch and bang on your high chair. I imagine even Julia had days when the thought of making a meal would send her over the edge. 

Here's my go-to meal for days like that. I call it guacamole compuesta, giving a nod to my south Texas heritage. (compuesta means "composed" or, in south Texas, "piled with extra stuff"). It's quick, easy, and the epitome of comfort food. 

Oh, and it's healthy, too. What's not to like?

Side note: My wonderful grandmother, Budgie, could not say "compuesta", or just about any word in Spanish for that matter. She loved the chalupas compuestas featured at the local Tex-Mex restaurant, but when ordering it, it would always come out "com-pray-sto." To this day, my family laughs about it.  

Brown the tortillas: One can do this by frying them in oil. Tasty, but fattening and who wants to fry anything on days like this. I like this method even better. Spray a couple of whole wheat tortillas with I Can't Believe It's Butter spray (you can pretend you're macing your boss) and bake them in a 400 oven for ten minutes or until brown.

Meanwhile. . . 

Guacamole: I love avocados, so I really don't like onions, cilantro, or lime juice getting in the way. I just mash two avocados with a quarter tsp of salt. That's it. If you have an ear of corn, better yet. Strip the kernels off and add them in raw. Wow. It really is an excellent addition. 

Spread the tortillas with the guac, smear with sour cream, add sliced grape tomatoes.

Easy-peasy.

Mastering the Joy of Julia

Having prepared a multitude of recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I finally decided to tackle the notorious Pâté de Canard en Croûte -- the boned, stuffed duck in pastry that seemed so frighteningly daunting to Julie Powell in the film, Julie and Julia. 

However, a pâté, no matter how extravagant or daunting, just didn’t seem like it could be the main feature of a meal. I decided to go “over the top” with an all-out Julia extravaganza for this event. After all, Julia always advised, "everything in moderation -- including moderation." So, in the vein of obligatory immoderation, one recipe from Mastering just wouldn’t do; I went for seven.

“Over the top” meant that the famous Pâté de Canard en Croûte would be the appetizer. 

Fortunately, I prepared the pastry the night before. The steps in preparing the pâté seemed to be a never-ending story. Of course, we all know about the “boning of the duck,” so here it is from start to finish. (Many thanks to my friend, Steve, for the video production. The music was performed and recorded by yours truly.)

Vegetarians may want to look away at this point:

Let me just say that ducks are very well-constructed little beasts; much more so than their chicken cousins.

Monsieur duck was now de-boned and ready for the veal and pork pâté -- oh, and it's a pâté that also contains truffles, although Julia writes that they are an “optional extravagance.” Since I was going all-out, I had a jar containing two truffles at hand -- extravagant, indeed. 

Once the pâté was placed inside, it was time to stitch it up. However, my makeshift trussing needle kept catching on the skin of the duck and was in danger of tearing it. It was then that my friend, Steve, gently reminded me that he was quite adept at suturing animals; after all, he is a veterinarian for crying out loud. I happily handed the task at hand over to him. (Hint: Preparation of Pâté de Canard en Croûte requires an actual trussing needle – that, or a veterinarian on standby). 

Armed with a pair of pliers and my makeshift needle, Steve expertly went to work. 

“Someday I’ll get you down to the clinic and have you stitch up a cat,” he said without looking up. 

After the duck was professionally sutured, I was able to truss it using butcher’s knots. Julia didn’t mention that it would resemble a giant larva. 

It was at that precise moment that I realized I had forgotten to include my extravagant truffles! 

Mistakes happen in the kitchen. They certainly happened to Julia and on PBS television to boot. But my truffles? 

“No apologies,” as Julia had often said. I realized this could be a happy mistake. As much as truffles cost, they might as well be noticed rather than diced up in the pâté. I would simply feature a slice or two on each serving later on. Prominently.   

The giant larva was browned, cooled, en-croûted, decorated, and egg-washed.

After baking and letting it cool, here’s a proud guy with his Mastering masterpiece. 

Another friend arrived a couple of hours before the meal. She’s an excellent cook and I was only too happy to have an extra pair of hands on hand. I’m fine with preparing a meal, but last-minute sauces, plating up, and I tend to cower under a table. 

My friend, Steve the veterinarian, also sets a lovely table and for that, I am eternally grateful. 

The meal for eight began with an amuse-bouche of small toasts topped with horseradish sour cream and black caviar accompanied by tiny shots of icy-cold Stolichnaya vodka – a very happy and effective way of amusing the bouches of one’s guests I might add. 

It was time for the pâté. Since the duck-encased pâté is baked in its pastry sarcophagus while trussed, one must de-truss it before serving. Julia instructs us to cut the top of the pastry off, retrieve the trussed pâté, remove the strings, return the pâté to the pastry, return the top of the pastry to its place, present it to the guests and slice it at the table. 

All I have to say is, "Rub a lamp, Julia."

The pâté and the bottom of the pastry had fused and become one. There was no removing of the pâté without destroying the pastry. Guests were waiting. 

The pâté was removed, sliced, adorned with awaiting truffles and served with a dry Italian sparkling red – sans croûte.

 

After all, the pâté itself was a slice of juicy, porky, ducky heaven. The croute would have been a pasty afterthought.  Again – no apologies.

Next, Soupe à l’oignon. No gratinée or crouton included; just the luscious, oniony soup served along with a dry California chardonnay (2010 Bin 36 Monterey Chardonnay.)

Main event: Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne -- beef filet with mushrooms in a port and cream sauce. It’s one of my favorite entrees of Julia’s and, surprisingly, relatively quick and easy to prepare (Nigella Lawson, take note). Served with asparagus with beurre blanc, pommes de terre Parisienne, petit choux au fromage, it was a meal that pretty well epitomized what our Julia was all about. 

 

 A 2009 Domaine Chêne Bourgogne Pinot Noir was luxurious and just acidic enough to stand up to the cream and butter sauces.

Bavarois Praliné (almond praline Bavarian cream) is my go-to dessert, as much of it can be prepared the day before. 

With all the requisite steps (toasting almonds, making a caramel, beating egg whites, whipping cream, preparing a custard and a Crème Anglaise), one really should prepare it the day before. Trust me. 

Why not end such a meal with a dessert containing twelve egg yolks? Remember, obligatory immoderation.

Sortilège is a maple syrup and whiskey liqueur that has been produced by our Canadian friends for over 300 years and is a favorite of mine that is always kept on hand. It never ceases to invoke ooohs and aaahs from every guest, so of course, it accompanied the Bavarian cream. The expected ooohs and aaahs ensued.  

Laughter among friends poured into the night. My feet and back were sore from day’s preparation, but it’s a small price to pay; the payoff of sharing such a meal with friends one loves is priceless. 

 True, I knew how to cook before encountering Julia Child. However, I’m still happily learning to Master the Joy of Julia. 

 

Julia Child Extravaganza

As I mentioned before, I'll be preparing an "over the top" Julia Child meal this coming Saturday for eight guests. I just bought truffles for the Pâté de Canard en Croûte. (Ouch.)

Here's the menu:

Amuse Bouche: Sturgeon caviar, tiny shots of very cold Stolichnaya vodka

Appetizer: Pâté de Canard en Croûte -- the infamous boned, stuffed duck in pastry featured in the movie, Julie and Julia.

 

Wine: A very dry Uruguayan sparkling red. 

Soup: Soupe a l'Oignon -- French onion soup.

Wine: 2010 Bin 36 Monterey Chardonnay

Entree: Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne -- beef filet with mushrooms in a port and cream sauce.

Sides: Asparagus with beurre blanc, pommes Parisienne, petit choux au fromage. 

Wine: 2009 Domaine Chêne Bourgogne Pinot Noir

Dessert: Bavarois aux Praline -- Almond praline Bavarian cream. 

Liqueur: Sortilège - A maple syrup and whiskey liqueur 

Let the games begin!

Confronting the Duck

Well, this is exciting. I’ve been selected by my blog-sponsor, Foodbuzz, to be one of twenty-four bloggers to prepare an “over-the-top” meal on February 25^th. Since our Julia is near and dear to my heart, my event will be titled, Mastering the Joy of Julia and will feature six recipes from Mastering.

I’m sure many of you remember the film, Julie and Julia, in which the Julia character kept putting off the recipe in which she had to de-bone a duck. The recipe is actually Pâté de Canard en Croûte which is the de-boned duck stuffed with duck pâté, wrapped in pastry and baked. 

I’m serving it as the appetizer for my meal on the 25^th. Like I said – over the top. 

Having remembered Julie’s trepidation over this endeavor, I decided to do a bit of rehearsing with a practice-duck. Then, having shelled out twenty-five bucks for a duck, I decided to practice on a four-dollar chicken instead. Fowl is fowl, after all. 

It’s not as if this seemed like a hugely challenging activity to me. Having carved hundreds of turkeys during my restaurant days, I knew my way around a bird’s carcass pretty well. 

As Julia says, one must be fearless. No fear!

First, confront the chicken. 

For this recipe, one must de-bone the fowl, but leave the skin intact. A very sharp boning knife is essential. I’m glad I had one.

Vegetarians, you may wish to look away at this point. . . .

Make a slice down the backbone and begin scraping along the bones down one side. Easy enough. 

What Julia failed to mention was the wishbone which turned out to be a bit tedious to maneuver around.

Finally, half the breast meat was carved away from the carcass. (No, it's not a pretty sight.)

Flip Miss Chicken around and repeat on the other half. Hold the bird by the carcass, let it hang by the end of the breast bone and you’re ready to carefully cut it away from the carcass. 

Now, one is left with a de-boned chicken except for the limbs. 

Scraping along the bones with the knife and you’re left with a de-boned chicken, skin intact. 

I did feel like giving myself a little ta-dahh. Come Saturday morning when it’s show-time, I’ll have no fear of the duck. 

For tonight, though, a little massage with olive oil, garlic, lemon, and my practice-chicken provided a lovely little supper.

My Favorite Julia Recipe So Far

Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne

This is, by far, my most-prepared and favorite of all recipes from Mastering the Art.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Hands down, it's the most delectable of all the recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Hands down, it's the easiest of all the recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. 

Such a combination, one would think, should have brought the likes of Nigella Lawson to her knees by now. After all, our Nigella has established herself as the queen of “Maximum pleasure; minimal effort.”

How could she have possibly missed this jewel of Julia’s?

It baffles me. 

If you want to do the impressive, epitome of Julia’s French mastery of the art, then by all means, spend an enjoyable four hours cranking out her Boeuf Bourguignon. 

If you would rather spend a mere half hour producing a luscious, exquisite, over-the-top,  pinnacle of gastronomic indulgence, then Julia’s Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne is your go-to recipe. 

Trust me. 

Mushrooms and shallots get browned in butter; sliced filet of beef, likewise. The pan is deglazed with Madeira, beef stock is added and reduced to a strong, dark syrup. A liberal amount of cream is added, reduced, thickened and finished with the addition of butter. The beef and mushrooms then get swathed in this sauce-for-the-gods.


It's beef Stroganoff on crack.

I wish I could express how pleasurable and divine this creation really is. Thanks to a boyhood friend of mine who now lives in France, I can relay what his French family exclaims whenever they’re dining on something really delicious:

"C'est la Sainte Vierge en culottes de velour!"

(It's the Virgin Mary in velvet panties!)

Ha! I don’t think I could have ever come up with anything as descriptive as that. (I really hope Julia had heard that exclamation during her stay in France. I’m sure she would have loved it.)

If any recipe deserves a comparison to the Holy Mother’s velvet underpants, this one is it.

Invite Nigella for dinner while you’re at it.

For 6 people (serve over white rice)

Ingredients:

1/2 pound fresh mushrooms (I much prefer Crimini mushrooms)

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon good cooking oil
3 tablespoons minced shallots
1/4 teaspoon salt
pinch of pepper
2 1/2 pounds filet of beef
2 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon cooking oil, more if needed
1/2 cup Madeira or dry white vermouth
1 cup beef stock
1 cup whipping cream
2 teaspoons cornstarch blended with 1 tablespoon of the cream
salt and pepper
2 tablespoons softened butter
parsley sprigs

Directions:

1) Trim off the surrounding fat and filament from the beef and cut into 2-ounce pieces, about 2 inches across and 1/2-inch thick. Dry thoroughly on paper towels.

2) Sauté the mushrooms in the first amount given of butter and oil for about five minutes, or until lightly browned. Stir in the shallots and cook for a minute longer. Season the mushrooms and scrape them into a side dish.

3) Place butter and oil in the skillet and set over moderately high heat. When the butter foam begins to subside, sauté the beef, a few pieces at a time, for 2-3 minutes on each side to brown the exterior but keep the interior rosy red. Set the beef on a side dish and discard the fat.

4) Pour the wine and stock into the skillet and boil it down rapidly, scraping up the coagulated cooking juices, until liquid is reduced to about 1/3 cup. Beat in the cream, then the cornstarch mixture. Simmer a minute. Add the mushrooms and simmer a minute more. The sauce should be lightly thickened. Correct seasonings.

5) Season the beef lightly with salt and pepper and return it to the skillet along with any juices which may have escaped. Baste the beef with the sauce and mushrooms, or transfer everything to a serving casserole.

6) When you are ready to serve, cover the skillet or casserole and heat to below the simmer for 3-4 minutes, being very careful not to overdo it or the pieces of filet will be well done rather than rare. Off heat and just before serving, tilt casserole, add butter to sauce a bit at a time while basting the meat until the butter has absorbed. Decorate with parsley and serve over white rice at once.

Comfort Food

We all remember the food prepared from our childhood.

As for me, I grew up in what was called the "Dishwater Generation" -- a few years after the babies had boomed, but not quite into the sexual revolution.  Our moms simply stood there, staring into back-yard windows; sighing, as their hands moved about in quiet, fetid, dishwater while Eisenhower droned on about how good life was.

1956 - 1961: The "Dishwater Generation"

When I was born, Elvis was old news yet John F. Kennedy was not yet new. A few years later, I don't think that anyone grew up with more of an Epitome of Mid-Sixties Bland Cuisine than I did.

Just take a look at the homestead where I was raised (I captured this frame from Google maps.)

It's a large, white-brick home, constructed in the early sixties with no windows. I was six years old and loved it.

The kitchen was in the back and had an ivory, 1960s, push-button stove. My mom was barely 23 years old when I was born and had very little experience in the kitchen.

Mom worked hard. She was the drama teacher and athletic coach at the local high school and, at the age of 26, was the sponsor of just about every high school club that existed.

My dad, two years younger, was the counselor at the high school and a part-time Baptist minister. Lots of hugs, snugly rough-housing, and loving bed-time stories were administered by them to me and my younger brother.

Needless to say, meals in this household were the epitome of "Mid-Sixties-New-Quick-and-Easy-In-And-Out."

Mas was definietly an active young mother in the Dishwater Generation and had been well-armored with a very few recipes.

One was called "Weenie Stew."

It consisted of a pound of wieners, cut into 1" chunks, browned in a skillet -- then tomato sauce was added, maybe a chopped onion, and served over Minute Rice. Always with a side of canned peas and canned pears as a dessert.

That was it.  
Weenie Stew, canned peas and pears.
Supper.
At least once a week for three years running.

Then mom and dad divorced.
Child support ensued.
Dad continued to nurture my brother and me a lot and we listened to "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" during our every-other-weekends together with him (he was 31 years old).
He was always an intelligent, supportive, and a loving parent.
I thought that was really cool.
Mom was a wonderful single parent and was incredibly loving, dedicated and supportive. As she was a single parent, I'll always be in awe of what she accomplished. Whenever I had a recital or concert, she was always there. She eventually learned to cook quite well.

To this day, though, she happily admits that, as a child, I learned to cook "out of self defense."

Even though my young parents divorced, I was a very fortunate kid.

So, in that vein, I happily give you the epitome of "Mid-Sixties Comfort Food" for me.

Weenie Stew with Canned Peas.

Cut a pound of wieners into 1-inch chunks, and brown in a cast-iron skillet. (Preferably on a 1964, General Electric, push-button stove just like the one we had back in 1966 -- mine is the same, still works and I love it.)

Add a chopped onion

Add 2 small cans of tomato sauce. Simmer for a half hour.
Or not.

Serve over Minute Rice with canned peas

There you have it. THE epitome of Mid-Sixties American Cuisine.

Whenever I want "Comfort Food" - - 
Weenie Stew and Peas

That is it!

Chicago-Style Deep Dish Pizza

Living in Chicago, we have twenty-four-seven access to the world's best pizza: Chicago-style deep dish. For those of you unfamiliar with this scrumptious item, here's a description.

A think layer of yeasty, bready dough is topped with cheese, then sauce, then toppings. That's right -- the cheese is under the sauce and the whole thing is baked in a deep pan. One slice can make a meal, believe me.

Yes, we have access to it but it ain't cheap. So, I've developed my own method of supplying it for myself and I have to say, it's just about my favorite in town.

Start with a frozen Gino's deep dish pizza.  (Gino's is one of the best Chicago-style pizza eateries here.) It's five bucks at local supermarkets.

Top it with extra sauce. (My homemade tomato sauce in this case.)
I have to have it extra saucy.

Top that with a package of frozen spinach, thawed, and squeezed dry.

Then, mushrooms browned in butter, according to Julia's recipe of course.

All that gets topped with extra-sharp cheddar cheese.

And baked.

And there you have it. Chicago-style deep dish pizza for a fraction of the cost. And just about the best in town.

Julia's Bouillabaisse

After last week's incredibly sumptuous meal of Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne, my steadfast dinner companion decided to hold fast to a diet and asked if we could hold off on our weekly Julia Child forays.

I was devastated.

Well, 'devastated' may a bit dramatic, but I was concerned to say the least.

After all, how does one find another weekly dinner companion who lives only a block away in downtown Chicago? How many social websites are there that cater to single, middle-aged men who delight in sharing weekly meals featuring only recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking in downtown Chicago?

Six, maybe seven?

That word, "diet" was the key. Julia had to change everything when her husband, Paul, was transferred from Paris to Marseilles in the south of France. Rather than fight it, she delighted in it.

Why couldn't I do the same?

Bouillabaisse was the answer; that fisherman's fish stew, the epitome of Marseilles' cookery, if not in all of southern France. Not a speck of Paris's nasty cream, butter or bacon was to be found, but instead, a  Provençal infusion of onion, garlic, fennel, tomato, basil, bay, orange peel and saffron.

Bouillabaisse originated as a means for rough-n-tough fisherman to utilize scraps of the day's catch by incorporating it into a tasty seafood stew. Of course, our French friends refined it, imparted local flavors, and our Julia swept in to make it as appealing as possible for us all. She is quoted, saying "to me the telling flavor of bouillabaisse comes from two things: the Provençal soup base - garlic, onions, tomatoes, olive oil, fennel, saffron, thyme, bay, and usually a bit of dried orange peel - and, of course, the fish - lean (non-oily), firm-fleshed, soft-fleshed, gelatinous, and shellfish."

I began this new journey by sweet-talking the fish guy at Whole Foods Market for some fish scraps with which to make the broth. Fortunately, he had plenty of huge cod frames (a non-oily fish) that he was willing to sell for next to nothing. (The very friendly young woman at the check-out was rather perplexed, if not alarmed, at the sight of these rather large fish skeletons. Upon informing her that they were to go in to Julia Child's bouillabaisse, and that I blogged about it, she asked for my website address. Such a treat.)

Fish frames, tomatoes, onion, garlic, fennel, basil, bay, saffron, and orange peel all piled in to make a flavorful broth:

 Meanwhile, seafood of your choice should wait in readiness. In this case, fresh cod, sea scallops, shrimp and Cherrystone clams. (I accidentally killed two pounds of mussels. The fish guy said they like ice and, apparently, I failed to provide them with an adequate ice bed. Half of them were dead by the time I was about to boil them alive in scorching broth.)

Here's my seafood, ready and waiting:

Perhaps the best part of bouillabaisse is the garlicky "rouille" -- that mayonnaise-like topping consisting of roasted red pepper, lots of raw garlic, boiled potato, basil, hot chile, all blended with olive oil until you have a thick, red, garlic mayonnaise.

Here's the final deal:
Bouillabaisse with a dollop of rouille

And since red pepper, orange peel and fennel went into the preparation, why not feature it in the salad?
(I served it with an orange juice, tarragon-and-olive-oil dressing)

I can see that Julia fell in love with Marseilles. Obviously, she embraced it with all her Julia-esque enthusiasm and imparted everything she loved into her recipe for bouillabaisse with rouille. 

Actually, the whole thing is an experience; from preparing it to serving it to sharing it. At first, the fish stock tastes a bit bland, but please don't over-salt it. If you've used the right fish frames and followed Julia's instructions, all will be well.

Add your fresh seafood -- But a word of warning: If adding clams or mussels in their shells, for god's sake, scrub them well with a green scrubby (dig in to the crevasses) and rinse them more than you think you need to. A few slightly sandy clams can ruin an entire seafood stew. You can put all your effort into making the perfect broth, but the slightest bit of grit is no joke. Trust me on that one.

Don't overcook the seafood. Just poach it and serve it before the clams and mussels open up all the way. Let each guest stir in a spoonful or two of rouille into each bowl, sit back, and watch the ecstasy ensue.

Honestly, you have not experienced seafood until you've "done" Julia's bouillabaisse avec sa rouille. (Pardon my French, please.) The combination of the perfectly prepared fish stock, with the best seafood you can find, topped off with the perfect rouille (and a bottle of fine, white Bordeaux) and you will have then experienced the best that any sea can offer.

Honestly, I just love that Julia could do this for us.

A Little Tong Action

Here’s a kitchen utensils that I find invaluable, yet I’ve never seen Julia Child ever use it.

A simple pair of tongs. They pretty much stay in my right hand while I’m cooking and will be used for a multitude of purposes: To flip sautéing chicken, give a sauce a quick stir, deglaze a sauté pan, whirl some boiling pasta, plating an entrée, and later, scraping plates into the sink. Yet, if you watch decades of Julia’s programs, not once will you see a pair of tongs being used.

Frankly, she seems to spend an inordinate amount of time clumsily grasping things out of pans with two spoons, often with a couple of flimsy plastic ones. I could never figure out why. Perhaps tongs weren’t utilized in France when she learned to cook. Maybe it’s because she didn’t spend much time in professional kitchen where there’s often a dozen tongs lying about. But it’s very obvious she never once used a pair of tongs on TV.

There are all kinds of tongs out there to choose from. Heavy duty ones that lock on the end are good if you don’t want them springing open in your utensil drawer. There are silicone-tipped tongs that can be used on non-stick pans. For me, I use the cheap, garden variety, restaurant-kitchen tongs.

Again, the absence of tongs in Julia’s kitchen is a mystery. She wholeheartedly embraced new gadgets such as the microplane, the Cuisinart and non-stick equipment.

But the woman never employed any tong-action.

Here's a Great Deal for You

Kitchen equipment: A subject near and dear to my heart. I really enjoy having the right equipment but don’t go in for the fancy-schmancy, name-brand items that one finds at high-end shops. Those items look impressive which is all fine and dandy if you’re into “kitchen porn.”

Having worked in professional kitchens, I prefer to obtain basic equipment at restaurant-supply establishments. These items are meant to be durable; to be rambunctiously slammed around in a fast-paced kitchen. They’re cost effective; after all, that line of chefs will need two or three dozen frying pans hanging around.

Occasionally, I’ve come across some exceptional deals online that are really too good to pass up and I feel I must pass on to you. A few months ago, I was in the market for a saucier – a large, rounded-bottomed saucepan that enables efficient whisking.

I found this one at J.C. Penney of all places. It's a large, 3-quart size, has a glass-and-metal lid (that’s a nice feature), an extra, riveted handle, and three-ply, stainless steel with an aluminum core.

Are you ready for this? It was only $39.99.

I read the reviews and they were all good. I looked at the specs and it appeared to be pretty heavy. Both handles are metal, so it can go in the oven as well. Comparable items sold for $100 - $200 bucks. Apprehensively, I ordered it and it turned out to be a fantastic piece of equipment.

You can order it here.

"To Master The Art . . .

I was assisting two friends of mine in hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for about thirty people here in Chicago when I met one of the guests named David. By the time I was introduced to him, he knew that I was a Julia Child cook and blogger, so they asked if I'd been to "the Julia Child play."

"The what?" I queried.

The play about Julia Child. "I think it's called 'Mastering the Art' or something like that",  he said. It was a play about Julia Child and her husband when they lived in postwar France and her discovery of cooking.  "But it's been sold out for a long time," said another one of the Davids. 

"To Master the Art"

He said that the theatre might be adding a couple of performances and that I should call the Timeline Theatre the very next day. Maybe I could get a ticket. . . .

I called the theatre the next day, the very minute the box office opened. All performances were sold out, But! . . alas! .They had added one more performance on December 15th and had only two tickets left. . .
"Did I want them?"

"Yes . . . innocently . . . Implicitly. . . .

My bestie foodie friend, Liane, accompanied me on a blisteringly cold night to a performance of "To Master the Art".  Within the first thirty seconds of this performance, I had tears streaming down my face. The performance was that stunning. Liane was, hopefully, not embarrassed by my reaction; I doubt that she was surprised by it. (After all, that's why I brought my bestie foodie friend to accompany me to the world premier of this performance.)

Needless to say, the performances were brilliant throughout. Whenever there was a scene in a restaurant, a kitchen, or the Cordon Bleu, the audience was permeated with exquisite different aromas: roasted chicken in tarragon, and, (I swear) the smell of beurre blanc blasted the audience.

The theatre was small and intimate, perhaps six rows seated in-the-round, so we could really enjoy every facial expression. (I'm dying to see what some chef-musician wanna-be will do to Julia's vocal line when this is crucified into an off-Broadway musical -- and don't think for a moment that I won't be the one to take a stab at doing it!)

Please know that "To Master the Art" the stage performance was written BEFORE the movie "Julia and Julia" - - that abominable, trite thing. 

I'm truly sad that I saw the last performance of "To Master the Art."  During the next two-and-a-half hours of the performance, I laughed, was surprised, cried some more and continued to be overwhelmed  - - - at how much joy can be obtained from food. . . . Such joy from food! 

But, you know, . . . . the same thing happens whenever I prepare any one of Julia's recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Whenever I follow Julia's precise instructions, pure unalloyed joy -- and some euphoria - - are always the results. How many endeavors such as that can one claim?

"To Master the Art" conveyed precisely what I've felt about Julia's work all along. That's why I wept within the first thirty seconds.

"To Master the Art" will be a huge hit, mark my words.
My only frustration is this - -

- - that everyone I truly love didn't get to see it with me.

Kofta Balls in Tomato Sauce

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,

Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare . . .

Did you know that devotees of Krishna have a cuisine all their own? Go to any restaurant owned by Krishna devotees and the food items will be readily identifiable.

For about ten years, I lived in Dallas Texas which has a large, vibrant Krishna community. Every year on World Food Day, they would provide free meals all day long and I volunteered my services in the kitchen of their gorgeous restaurant, Kalachandji's. So, that’s how I became familiar with their cuisine.

First of all, one will notice a vegetarian vein. Being strict believers in the principle of karma and reincarnation, nothing is served that involves the killing of animals. "Every meal gives the gift of life," is one of their beliefs.  Dairy products are used but eggs are not.

Being that the Krishna movement is a form of Hinduism, most food items will have an Indian flavor to them with one notable difference. In addition to meat and ova, Krishna devotees (along with Jains,) strictly refrain from eating onions or garlic. It has something to do with them being offensive to God or that they arouse sexual desires. Maybe both. But whatever the reason, one will find Krishna (Vedantic) and Jainist cuisine without garlic or onions.

I think Julia would have looked upon their food beliefs with suspicion, especially the non-use of garlic or onions. She had a disdain for anyone who "feared food" in any shape or form. (Conversely, did not she "fear" vegetarian or vegan cuisine?) However, the means by which our Vedantic friends did utilize and enjoy their cuisine would have, I believe, eventually brought her around. 

In the place of garlic and onions, you’ll find the ever-present and very unique spice called asafetida. It is the powered, dried gum resin of a herbaceous plant and, in its raw state, has a very strong odor reminiscent of . . . well . . . cat urine.

Believe me, if you spill it or leave it uncovered, your dwelling will smell like a tom-cat has left his mark. However, once cooked, it does impart a musky, evocative flavor reminiscent of onions and "that" flavor is the truly the mark of Krishna cuisine.

One of my favorite dishes is their Kofta Balls in Tomato Sauce. We served many cafeteria trays of it every year on World Food Day in Dallas and it was always a staple in the countless daily meals that the Krishna community provided to the homeless and shut-ins. A more tasty, appealing, nutritious, and inexpensive entree would be really hard to find.

It’s a first cousin to spaghetti and meatballs but with a Vedantic twist. Garbanzo bean flour (besan) is mixed with spices, including the ever-present asafetida, grated cauliflower, grated cabbage, rolled into balls and deep fried. These are served with a flavorful tomato sauce (yes, with asafetida) over pasta.

Oh, and another quality about asafetida is that it prevents flatulence. We've got cauliflower, cabbage and bean flour going on here, but nary a toot follows the meal. Maybe that's the non-offensive part.

The result is meat-less meatballs that are surprisingly juicy. Very juicy in fact. I frequently prepared this dish when I was a Franciscan friar and, even though one funny friar referred to my kofta balls as "coughed-up balls", they all enjoyed them. Especially the funny friar.

Start with 1 ½ cups of besan (garbanzo bean flour), Soy flour could probably be substituted.
1 Tbs garam masala (an Indian spice mixture usually containing cloves, cinnamon, cumin, fenugreek and coriander)
1 ½ tsp salt
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
½  tsp turmeric
½ tsp asafetida
½ tsp cayenne

Mix in:

2 cups grated cauliflower (which is really 1 whole cauliflower)
2 cups grated cabbage

Mix it all together with your hands and really squoosh it together. (I like to don latex gloves for hand-mixing and squooshing) The grated cauliflower and cabbage exude just enough juice to bring it all together. You’ll have a moist paste which can be formed into 1-inch balls.

Tomato Sauce:

1 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes
1 cup water
¼ cup olive oil
1 medium carrot cut into 6 pieces
½ tsp asafetida
2 tsp dried basil
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp black pepper
2 bay leaves

Fry the spices in the oil and butter, add the tomatoes, carrot, and water. Simmer for 30 minutes. The carrot draws out a lot of acidity. Discard the carrot when the sauce is finished. Taste one and you'll be surprised how sour it is. Italian grandmas have done the same with their tomato gravy for generations.

Fry the kofta balls in hot oil for at least 12 minutes, 6 minutes on each side, until dark golden brown. (You really want to avoid undercooked insides, so don't make the balls any more than an inch in diameter.)

Incidentally, Krishna cooks use clarified butter called "ghee" for deep-frying. Although deep-frying in ghee is incredibly rich and appealing, it can be hugely expensive for a one-shot deal. Trust me, Julia would have swooned had she seen a Krishna deep-fryer filled with clarified butter.

Place them in the tomato sauce for 10 minutes and serve over pasta.

Devotees offer a prayer over each food item and set aside one serving of each recipe as an offering to Krishna. However, I never saw what they mysteriously did with it afterward.

If there's a Krishna temple in your city, check it out and see if they have a restaurant --  many of them do. I’ve always appreciated their unique cuisine. The smell of jasmine incense is usually wafting in from the adjoining temple giving the restaurant its own other-worldly ambiance.

Aside from its very identifiable flavor, thanks to the asafetida, there’s just something very appealing and special about consuming “spiritualized” food, regardless of the faith from whence it comes.

Hare Krishna . . .