I just want to wish everyone a safe, happy, and healthy Christmas, and a very joyous holiday! Thank you for your support of my blog this year. I’ll be having another book giveaway when I hit 300 followers, so stay tuned!
Ah Hamlet, the tragic and doomed Prince of Denmark, whose family puts the “fun” in dysfunctional. What I always liked about Hamlet is that his twisted family dynamic makes my own family look rather normal in comparison. Or maybe it goes to show that we all have messed-up family dynamics, and sometimes, as in Hamlet’s case, we can be one of the most messed-up members within it.
I read the play in its entirety in 11th grade Honors English class, and it also helped seeing movie versions and having those characters brought to life by various actors, but when I saw Kenneth Branagh’s opulent, glorious, 4-hour long movie, that was possibly when I fell in love with Hamlet and all his arrogant, sad, romantic pain.
He wants so much to do the right thing and avenge his father, and who can blame him? What I could never understand was his turning on poor Ophelia. Talk about doomed love. That poor girl, all she wanted was to love him and help him and his perception of the world around him and his anger toward women – his mother particularly – twists his love for her and makes himreject her. And in her despair, she commits the ultimate act of pain and drowns herself.
His rage at his mother’s betrayal is the pivot point from which most of the major actions happen. Hamlet is so angry at her weakness and for marrying his uncle so quickly after the death of his father, and he scalds her with his words. The guy could cut with his tongue, that’s for certain, and when he uses the analogy of the food served at his father’s funeral as being part of the wedding feast, it’s the ultimate food play on words.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven or ever had I seen that day, Horatio! My father, methinks I see my father.
Baked meats were often encased in pastry, called coffins, in Elizabethan times, when The Bard wrote his masterpiece. In an upscale Elizabethan kitchen, many spices would be used to flavor the meats, including nutmeg, pepper, onion, ginger, cloves, cinnamon, and sugar. I opted to make baked chicken mini pies – baked chicken in a “coffin”, using a pastry method taken from Elizabethan times via Tori Avey’s awesome food site, and making filling spiced with paprika, a tiny hint of nutmeg and cinnamon, mushrooms, heavy cream, and a bit of Parmesan cheese, which I had lying around and needed to use.
For the pastry dough:
1 cup of cold water
1 stick of butter, cut into cubes
3 cups flour
2 egg yolks at room temperature
1 teaspoon salt
For the filling:
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon garlic powder
3 chicken thighs, poached or roasted, and finely cubed
1 cup wilted spinach
1 cup mushrooms, also wilted
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan
1 egg, beaten with salt and a bit of water
Put the flour and salt into the bowl of your most awesome Kitchen Aid mixer, and gradually add the butter chunks. Mix using the pastry hook attachment at medium low speed.
Add the egg yolks and mix to incorporate.
Keep mixing on low, and gradually add the water, until the mixture forms a ball of dough. Wrap in plastic, let rest for up to 30 minutes in the refrigerator.
Heat the oven to 375F. While the dough rests, combine the spices with the cooked chicken, the mushrooms and spinach, and the heavy cream in a saucepan. Stir until well warmed through, taste for seasoning, and sprinkle in the Parmesan.
Divide the dough into 4 pieces, and roll each quarter out into sheets of roughly 1/2 inch thickness. Cut rounds using a biscuit cutter.
Fill each round with the chicken-spinach-mushroom mixture.
Rub some water around the dough edge, and press over another pastry round to form a little pie. Press the edges with a fork tine to seal, and brush with beaten egg mixed with a bit of water and some salt.
Bake for 50 minutes, or until golden brown and you can smell the spices and chicken. Very tasty, just as the Bard would have wanted.
I don’t normally read a lot of non-fiction, mainly because I read to escape reality……particularly these days, when the world around us seems to be going insane. But having discovered this pop culture gem, Underrated, while waiting at my dentist’s office, I changed my mind. Slightly.
Josh Abraham takes some of the most classic pundits of modern culture that everyone loves to hate – Good Times, Jay Mohr, diet Dr. Pepper, The Godfather III (and for that, I thank him heartily because I happen to think that movie was pretty all right – save the hate mail, please), and that classic American slab of comfort food known as meatloaf. And what could be more underrated than meatloaf?
I go back to my original statement about The Godfather III. HELLO! It’s still an amazing film. It’s Coppola, for God’s sake. He could film someone reading the history of ground beef and it would be amazing. Abraham details why this film should not be given short shrift – for all the reasons I always thought! Lack of quotable lines combined with none of the old-school characters combined with Sofia Coppola…….who, IMHO, was not that bad, and thank God she wasn’t that great because then we wouldn’t have her directorial awesomeness in Lost in Translation, The Virgin Suicides, or Marie Antoinette.
But the piece on meatloaf is what got me thinking. Goddammit, I LOVE meatloaf! It’s classic American fodder food and seriously, if you screw up meatloaf, you are beyond help. Anyway, my deeply buried love for meatloaf reasserted itself after reading this book, and I decided that a nice loaf would be the perfect blog post. If you don’t like meatloaf, well, go order a pizza, then.
Ok, so meatloaf isn’t the most exciting of dishes. It’s also perhaps not the most aesthetically pleasing of foods, either. But this version, perfected after many variations and experiments, is really, really good. The key is using half pork sausage, which adds more flavor and keeps the ingredients moist, even after baking. Trust me!
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
7 baby carrots
1 celery stalk
1 red onion
6 cloves garlic
Tablespoon each of fresh thyme, fresh parsley and fresh oregano
1/2 lb ground beef
1/2 lb ground pork sausage
3 tablespoons Worchestershire sauce
1 heaping cup of Panko breadcrumbs
Salt and pepper to taste
4 tablespoons tomato sauce
Heat the oven to 375F. Melt the butter and olive oil in a large pan over medium heat on the stove. Finely chop the carrots, celery, onion, garlic, and fresh herbs and add to the pan. Saute for 10-12 minutes.
In a separate bowl, add the two ground meats, the eggs and the Worchestershire sauce.
Pour over the breadcrumbs.
Let the vegetable mixture cool in the freezer for 15 minutes, then add to the eggs, breadcrumbs and meats.
Add the mustard and the tomato sauce to the mixture, and then mix everything together well, using your VERY clean hands. Pat into a loaf tin.
Bake for an hour. Let cool. Cram down your throat. It’s that good – and totally underrated! If you want to go full-on retro, serve with peas and macaroni and cheese, the old-school kind from the box. Good stuff!
Charles Palliser is my favorite author after Umberto Eco, writing as he does in the most lucid, erudite, intellectual and bawdy style that sucks you into the vivid, dirty, and virulent world of Victorian, post-Industrial England. His settings are the traditional British country house or vicarage, manor or townhouse, and his Dickensian-named characters show off the best and worst qualities of humanity. For all their quiet, tea-drinking mannerisms and genteel ways of speaking, these characters are among the most inept, foolish, clueless, stupid, venal and cruelly malign in modern literature.
In Palliser’s twist on the traditional Christmas ghost story, The Unburied, Dr. Edward Courtine comes to the small British town of Thurchester to see his old school “friend” Austin Fickling for Christmas, and to see the town’s historic church and related records. Of course, being a church, there is a ghost. And a historical mystery. And then a murder, which happens moments after Edward and Austin visit the victim. How it all turns and twists together creates a memorable murder mystery/ghost story/ Christmas tale that will make you view the holiday season in a less-than-thrilled light.
It is very much written in an academia tone, but it moves at the pace of a whirlwind, so anyone who enjoys British literature, the books of Charles Dickens, or even history, will enjoy this book. The sense of menace creeps up on you very subtly, and there are occasions when you – ok, when I – found myself snapping at Edward’s stupidity. “Hello, the answer is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!!!” I caught myself shouting before I pulled it together and reminded myself it’s just a book.
In an early scene, Edward dines with Austin, with whom he is staying, in a horrible, freezing cold old house that is where the mystery kicks off. Austin is acting quite passively-aggressively nasty to Edward as he prepares their meal of chops and onions……not well, I would add.
“After your long journey,” he went on, “I thought you’d like to stay in tonight, and I’ll cook our supper.” “As you did in the old days,” I exclaimed. “Do you not recall? When we lodged at Sidney Street, we used to take turns to grill chops?”…………. Austin nodded. “Do you remember your ‘chops St. Lawrence’ as you called them? Burnt to a crisp like the poor saint.”
Pork chops with caramelized onions in a mustard-cream sauce seemed just the ticket on this chilly night, plus they are simple to make and best of all, delicious. This is the method that worked for me, based on my own recipe.
4 pork chops, bone out, 1/2 inch thick each
Salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup grain Dijon mustard
4 red onions, sliced into rings
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 cup red wine
Heat the oven to 400F.
Start with the onions. Put the olive oil and butter into a nonstick skillet and melt. Add the onions, and stir so all is glossy and covered. Sprinkle over the sugar, then let the onions cook slowly and brown underneath, stirring occasionally. This will probably take you a good 45 minutes, if not longer.
At the 30-minute mark, pour in the red wine. Continue stirring and cooking.
At the end of the cooking, you will have a pile of deliciously warm, brown-tinted caramelized onions that are sweet and have a marvelous soft texture.
In the same pan heated to medium-high, add the pork chops, and season with salt and pepper. Sear each side for 5 minutes, then put the cast-iron pan with the chops into the oven and cook for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, let the chops rest, and put the pan back on the stove over a medium burner.
Add the grain Dijon mustard and stir around. Then pour in the heavy cream and let it thicken and cook. Don’t let it curdle.
To be quintessentially British, serve the sizzling hot chops with the Dijon-cream sauce poured over, the onions piled glossily on one side, and some classic mushy peas on the other. Sooooooo good and easy, too!