Monday, November 28, 2011

Hurricane Frances Five-Spice Chicken

Bob and I lived in Florida the year of four hurricanes. Since we were two blocks from the beach and one block from the bay, we took them seriously, and that meant making sure that when the power went out, we had something to eat. And I am not talking about Dinty Moore!

We always had chicken in the freezer, hurricane season is late summer, and so we knew when the power went out, the food would eventually go bad. So along with hotel reservations, storm watching, water-bottle-buying and securing lawn furniture, we cooked.

I came up with this recipe during the prep for Hurricane Frances, and as we sat by candelight, we ate this chicken and drank Corona. It was one of those hurricanes that gave me a bit of post-traumatic stress, but the chicken recipe made it worthwhile.

For this ultra-simple recipe, I use Chinese five spice, something that is having a bit of a moment now, but in 2003, was just part of my exploration of the more obscure aisles at Albertson's. On Saturday, I replenished my supply at the Charleston Farmers Market with this grinder from Charleston Spice Company:


Although the company's custom spice blend was amazing, I found the grinder frustrating since it wasn't heavy duty enough to hold up to cinnamon, fennel, and other odd shaped spices. Still, I managed to get enough of the seasoning on for last night's chicken, and the freshly ground spices lent a fresh flavor to the dish.

Hurricane Frances Five Spice Chicken

1 family package of chicken legs
seasoned flour for breading (I'm a House-Autry fan)
canola oil
Chinese five spice, ground

1. Wash and dry chicken.
2. Sprinkle a generous amount of five spice directly onto each chicken leg, approx. 1/8 tsp., then coat with seasoned flour.
3. Arrange in a greased 13x9 baking dish.
4. Drizzle a couple drops of oil onto each leg. The chicken should look mostly dry.
5. Bake for 45 minutes at 425 degrees, and there's no need to turn.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Dear Person Wandering in the Baking Aisle

I see you, brow furrowed as you try to decipher between slivered and pieced almonds. You are reading a recipe that to you sounds ah-mazing, and you are ready to attempt it, excited, emboldened, until just this very moment when I see you.

Will it make a difference what almond I choose, you think as you stand in the middle of the aisle, two days before Thanksgiving with your cart filled with Stove Top and cheap wine (you're going to need a good amount if you're going to get through this). You thought it would be a good idea to invite everyone over, but now you're rethinking everything, including that special dessert with candied almonds on a crust of cranberries. So festive!

Although I want to approach you in the store, I've tried that before and end up looking like the desperately lonely woman who just needs conversation besides her cats. No, I bite my tongue, grab a box of powered sugar, 10x, and head on my way.

But to you, gentle cook. Give yourself a break. Don't try something that you've never tried before if it will just stress you out. The people that are coming over are coming over to spend time with you -- yes, they'll be looking for some food -- but it doesn't have to be that confounding concoction that you are pondering now.

Be nice to yourself. Do what you know, light a scented candle, fluff the pillows and go for it. If that means buying that plastic-covered pecan pie in the deli section, I'm not here to judge. Just take off the plastic, put it on a pretty plate, and smile. We will be happy to see you.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Acorn squash made me do it

Well, it's happened. I KNOW there are 1000s of food blogs out there, and I KNOW that a lot of people do them exceptionally well.

But I want in ...

I am jumping into the crowded end of the pool that is food blogging, and I don't care. I love food, writing, eating, writing about food, writing about eating ... and well, there you have it. And my sister Courtney provided the title, "from my little kitchen." It is little, in all its 1960s glory (including the stove) but we produce some great eats, and we don't even miss our microwave.

So ...

Last night, I finally moved past Squash 101. That's beyond crookneck (common southern yellow) and butternut squash, and I moved into the land of those gourds that you thought were just for decoration.

Barbara Kingsolver and her chapter on pumpkins made me do it. Holly Herrick and her effusiveness about the squash available at the market made me do it. And frankly, Harris Teeter made me do it.

There was a cute little acorn squash that was in season. It was a white acorn, one of the only I could find at my James Island store that wasn't grown in Mexico but in the U.S. (but still a very long train ride away). And it was pale and generally manageable, like that quiet kid in the back of the classroom.

I split it open, saved the seeds for roasting, and set upon cooking the thing. I was roasting chicken, potatoes (an obsession) so why not roast it? I added a pat of butter, a tablespoon of brown sugar into each halved cavity, and then I got frisky. Well, it was Sunday night and yes, there might have been some wine in the picture.

I sprinkled 4-5 dashes of Peychaud's bitters on each half. Jon Calo of the Cocktail Club said I could cook with it, so let's see, shall we?

What resulted was delicious, not too sweet with a complex taste that I am warming up now as I write. It was a little fibrous, or stringy, as we say in North Carolina, but it was good. I promise there'll be more pics in the future, but for now, imagine a rounder version of a butternut squash, roasted. I trust you get the picture.