Enchilada de Pollo

Eating at Mexican restaurants growing up, I recall having an extremely limited list of options of what I wanted to eat on the menu. At first, it was only nachos, especially those from El Matador. Then, I began to branch out into quesadillas and cheese enchiladas. I know, I am such a thrill seeker. My ability to try different Tex Mex foods has grown since then, but my ability to make Mexican is relegated to making nachos, tacos, and Mexican salad. Until last weekend when my first attempt at enchiladas was tried.


Overall, it was a good meal (one I am still eating leftovers from). But, I do not think I will use the exact same recipe again. I had hopes, but Rachael Ray and her recipe went awry somewhere. Cooking the chicken in the broth with oregano and onions was great. I had never really known how to cook chicken other than cut it up in chunks and cook it in a skillet. I know, I know, shocking. But true. It used to be cooking it on the George Foreman, which resulted in dry, weirdly crusted chicken. So, stovetop chicken chunks is a step up.

Back to the meal. Where the recipe is off is in the sauce. It was too sweet. It had decent back of the throat heat, but the front flavor was like eating sugary tomato sauce. And the chicken stuffing needed some more juice or sauce or some cheese in it. It came out a little dry. But the clear main detractor was the sauce.


There were some adjustments I had to make to the recipe because I could not find hot cayenne pepper sauce. Maybe it does not exist at the grocery store here; maybe I was looking in the wrong place; maybe it goes by some brand name I am unaware of. And, yes, if one of you comments that hot cayenne pepper sauce is more commonly known as Tabasco or something, I will feel foolish. But it would not be first or the last time for that to occur.

The best part of the enchiladas was the cheese. While Aaron was getting his sandwich meats and cheeses at the grocery store, I investigated the cheese display for some Monterey jack cheese. I narrowed it down to four options. We decided that since I am still a little leery of really spicy things, to go with a mild-looking Monterey jack and a salsa jack cheese. The Monterey was so-so, but the Salsa Jack was great. Aaron and I ate dinner talking about where else we could use the cheese - queso, tacos, fried cheese sticks, eggs. And, since I want all of you to run out and buy a round, here is all the info you need about this cheese. It is the Salsa Jack Cheese, produced by Great Midwest. They have other variations on the same theme - habanero jack (I was to chicken for that one), smokey jack, etc.

And for dessert...s'mores. It has nothing to do with Tex Mex or enchiladas, but I wanted s'mores, so I got 'em. And so did Aaron, who contemplated their strata before eating.

Friday Night Pie

Aaron wanted pie. Not just any pie, apple pie. And so began each of our first endeavors into making a pie. What fun it was!

First, and most importantly - making the ice cream to go with the pie. What self-respecting apple pie does not demand homemade vanilla ice cream? This was a simple process because ice cream making is simple and I had made this recipe before. However, I have never properly made this recipe, ingredient for ingredient. The first time I made it, I could only find apricot preserves. And this time, I already had some orange marmalade, so I used that. I think it is used for for a natural sweetness than anything else, but I could be wrong. I did not notice a huge change in the flavor, just little bits of orange zest here and there. Made the ice cream, let it freeze overnight. Hands smelled like vanilla, which is infinitely more welcomed than when they smell like minced garlic.

Oh! If you have a KitchenAid mixer, buy their ice cream maker attachment. It works incredibly well and will tempt you to make ice creams, sorbets, gelatos, frozen yogurts, and sherbets throughout the year.

Pie day! First was to the grocery store to pick up apples and other needed supplies. The recipe did not say what kind of apple to use, so we opted for Fuji. I am not an apple eater, so I was lost when it came to this. I like Granny Smith for my Apple Dumplings, but someone *cough Aaron cough* does not like them.

Upon reaching my place, the first order of business was to make the pie dough. I have heard horror stories about pie dough, so I was nervous going into it. Pie dough is so easy! The main thing is to make sure everything is cold - shortening, butter, water. Into the fridge the two balls of dough went to chill, and onto apple cutting we went. Coring, peeling, and slicing.

The most difficult part was rolling the dough out. I am not the best roller, so things got a little uneven. But they worked and the pie tin was covered and in went the apple mixture. We got too many apples, so our pie was well filled. Now came the lattice. Have I mentioned that I am also not a great precision cutter? Yeah, Aaron should have done that part. I may have tried to claim the uneven cutting made it look for rustic, but I think that was like calling a scorched steak "blackened." But I rocked the latticing!

The edges were trimmed and into the oven it went along with those tasty pie dough scraps. Which is where the trouble started. Being new to my oven, we had not worked out all the kinks of our relationship, gotten to know each other well. So, I think when I tried to set the timer, I set the oven timer, which apparently lets you set how long to keep your oven on. And, since I had set it for 10 minutes in order to get the dough scraps out, the pie warmed, but did not bake, for 35 of its 45 minutes in the oven. Oops.

At 45 minutes, seeing that the pie and the dough were still rather raw, I saw the error of my ways and turned the oven back on and baked the pie a little longer. However, the dough was still not done and the apples were still very firm, so it baked some more. Meanwhile, Aaron and I were watching a movie. And, at some point, an odor arose - a burnt odor. Quickly moving to the kitchen this is the sight that we were met with...

uh oh... I checked the pie, and it was fine, but the dough scraps, oh the dough scraps. Burnt. Not singed, not well-toasted. Charred black burnt. Crumble to soot in your hands burnt. And my apartment was filling with smoke. Having had a smoke-filled apartment before (my blog is not called "Where there's smoke" after all) windows and doors were opened, fans were turned on, and a waving of dish towels commenced. Thankfully, the fire alarm did not go off, just a few neighbors wondering why the new girl was burning down their building. The smoke dissipated, the smell still lingers today.

But what about the pie? Did it suffer and adverse effects? Judge for yourself...

I think that is the most beautiful apple pie I have ever seen. But, pies are not enjoyed based on their beauty. It is all about the taste. Well, I think we should have gone with a different apple. The Fujis let out a lot of juice, which made the bottom of the pie a little mushy. We also should have cut them thinner and smaller since sometimes a forkful yielded a chunk of apple that would be inappropriate to shove in your mouth among others. I also think the apples were too sweet - it lacked a slight tartness that maybe a Granny Smith or two would bring. The top of the pie crust was phenomenal, and the slight taste of lemon juice cutting through the sweet was excellent. And with some homemade ice cream, it was a Friday night to enjoy.

Birthday Dinner

We will now travel back, through the sands of time, to a Saturday afternoon in early February. This was intended to be posted soon after the event occurred, but due to a change in my workload and then moving, time was not on my side. So now, I present to you: Mom and Dad's Birthday Meal.

Mom and Dad did not give me anything specific requests, so I was left to my own imagination and ideas to come up with dinner for them. Their only request was for the dessert item, which I will "premiere" below. The previous year, I made Linguine with Shrimp and Lemon Oil, which was perhaps one of the best dishes of 2007. Seriously, it is filling while still being light, and it cooks pretty quick. Coming from a lemon-loving family, I believe I upped the lemon quotient, but it was by no means overwhelming. And the arugula played perfectly with the dish, although spinach would be great too. Since last year I had done seafood, this year I opted for beef.
Short Ribs with Tagliatelle was my recipe of choice. Why? Because it looked fancy and like it may challenge me a little culinarily. I was right on the former, incorrect on the latter. However, since I was the one cooking, I ran into some issues.

Issue #1: I could not find tagliatelle. HEB disappointed me! So, I went with linguine (or was it fettuccine?) instead. Whichever is the wider of the two.

Issue #2: I needed a bigger pot. Or at least one with a greater surface area on the bottom. All my ribs would not fit, so the browning of them was a little less than what I desired. But it still tasted good, so I guess it did not matter in the end.

Issue #3: I cannot read directions. More precisely, I cannot accurately recall directions I read a minute ago. That is how double the amount of beef broth was added to the sauce than was called for. Which, in turn, was why I had to try and strain some of it out with a little tiny sieve. It was not cool.

In the end, the sauce ended up a little too soupy, in my opinion, but it was still mighty tasty. And, if you read the recipe already, you may have noticed an "odd" ingredient. Yes, you actually do shave bittersweet chocolate on the pasta dish and, yes, it does add a little something to it.

Would I make this again (correctly)? Absolutely. Will it be any time soon? No way. It takes an entire afternoon to make; lots of add this and simmer an hour, do this and simmer another hour... It was a great dish for a special occasion, which is the kind of dish it will forever remain.

Dessert! Even if the dinner bombed, I knew I had dessert in the bag. Tassie Cups with Lemon Curd Filling. It is a family favorite (see above for lemon love) and it is something of a special occasion dish. Takes a little time and energy to make and whisk and "create."

The dough is pretty simple. And, use a food processor if you got it. I made this once before without the food processor and it paled in comparison to the dough this time. It came together better and more uniformly.

Dough before being "cupped" and baked:


Dough having now baked and become platforms for curd:

The dough makes more than 23 mini cups, but I made two larger cups in ramekins for Mom and Dad.

Onto the lemon curd. You can buy this pre-made at the grocery store, but rarely does it look, well, healthy. The color is a pale, almost white shade, like a more albino cousin to Vaseline. Lovely picture, isn't it?

The processed zest and sugar. I think I could eat this as it is right now...


The juice of three lemons. These were the juiciest lemons I have ever seen. Last time I made this, I think I used five or seven lemons, so if you make this, always buy extra lemons!


I have now placed the mixture on a double boiler and commenced the long session of whisking. No need to exercise your arms the day you make this, just replace with whisking.

I know, the curd looks rather lumpy and unappetizing in the above photo. This is about 4:55 minutes into whisking. At 5 minutes, this is how it looks (yes it is really that quick a change):


Unfortunately, unlike the directions say, this does not suddenly become thick. It takes about 15-25 more minutes (best I can recall) to get it thicker. So keep on stirring!

And now, for some finished products. First, a jar of lemon curd. This is dangerous to have around, but is mighty tasty. A spoonful after dinner is the perfect dessert and/or palate cleanser.


And now, the piece d' resistance - tassie cups with lemon curd! And, the added bonus of a vegetable, as Paula Deen would say (sprig of mint).

The cup is not sweet, a little salty, which ups the sweetness of the curd. And of course, the puckeringly good lemon curd, with little bits of zest. So deliciously tart. And that was mom and dad's birthday dinner!

The Move

Good news! I have located the cord which allows me to upload my pictures from camera to computer, so now I can relay the story of my trip from Austin to Raleigh. Yay!

Packing was less terrible than I imagined it would be, although it was by no means something I would want to do again soon. I had tried to sort through all my things and donate and discard in the weeks prior to me moving, but there were still a few things that I found that needed to be let go of on the day of the move. My dad and Aaron were incredible help with packing up the Uhaul. If I were doing it alone, I probably would have given up and stayed in Austin. One of my greatest fears was that I would have more stuff than the Uhaul could hold, but thankfully this was not the case and I even had a little extra space left. With the the trailer packed and my car on the dolly, I bid farewell to Austin apartment and stayed my last night in Texas at my parents'.

Driving Day 1

Hoping to get ahead of morning traffic, Aaron and I left some time after 7. I was tired, Aaron was tired, and it looked gross outside. And cold...very cold.


So, on the road went me and my worldly possessions. Aaron and I enjoyed listening to our favorite morning show, JB & Sandy, and getting used to driving something a little larger than our compact cars. After a few, er, "bumps" in the road, I got the hang of driving it, and trucking along we went.

Texas took a long time to get out of, but doesn't it always? We saw the Sanderson Farm chicken factory, lots of cows which Aaron was eternally excited to spot, and smelled dead skunks. Lots and lots of dead skunks.

Louisiana did not take too long to drive through, but it was rougher than Texas due to the road conditions. To say the road surface was uneven is an understatement. And, since Uhauls are not built for comfort, we left Louisiana feeling a little beat up.

I think leaving Louisiana was one of my favorite parts of the trip. Not only because of the roads, but because you get to drive across the Mississippi River.

This is the Mississippi. Looks like...a river. Had we been driving in the other direction, I could have gotten a picture of a steamboat, but our side was steamboat-less.

The Mississippi River Bridge. I am sure it has a better name than that, but you get the idea of what it is.
Aaron. Aaron scared. Of what I don't know. This may have been one of the times when he recalled all the work he needed to be doing for school and freaked out a little. Or he could have been providing me comic relief. It is hard to tell sometimes.

Mississippi and Alabama blended together, so there is not much more to say about driving day one. We stopped and slept at a Super 8 somewhere past Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It was late, we slept. We woke up...

Driving Day 2
...and we were hungry. Aaron wanted Wendy's. I wanted a breakfast taco. We found a Wendy's but it had not opened yet. So, we walked to the nearby Waffle House. I have only been to one other Waffle House in my life and it was not a great experience. I ordered toast and, when I got it, it was drenched in butter. Yuck. So, I was leery of this. But, they did have breakfast tacos. Or so I thought...I hope it is apparent what is extremely wrong with this picture. I do not know which is more bizarre, mayo with my taco or pickles with my taco. I mean, mayo? On eggs and bacon? The taco itself was not too bad...until I reached the cheese. It was not shredded cheddar; it was canned nacho cheese consistency, but without the spicy kick. Not the breakfast of champions I had hoped for.

It did not take long for us to get into Georgia, a welcome relief that now only two states were between us and Raleigh. I like Georgia. I have not visited there but once, but it seems like a state I would not mind living in. It has peaches and BBQ and Coke. Southern accents. Paula Deen. Now that I live closer to it, I may have to pay Georgia a visit.

Georgia's one great excitement was that there was a wreck further up on the road we were traveling and, Aaron and I, wishing to avoid long delays, figured out a new route to get us to Greenville, SC where we could return to our normally scheduled route. Off the beaten path we went and what an adventure it was. Since I was navigating, I pulled out the atlas and figured out a way for us to get off the highway with the wreck and not lose much time. Aaron, being the driver, drove. It worked well for about 20 minutes until Aaron saw a sign for the highway we eventually wished to return to. This was not part of my navigation route, but it was too late to say anything now. I feared we had not gone far enough and would intersect with the traffic from the wreck. Well...the sign for the highway and the highway were a bit farther apart than Aaron thought it would be...by about 30 minutes. But, once on the highway, traffic was clear and all was once again right in the world. And we got to see "backwoods" Georgia, go through a few towns we never thought we would see.

I do not recall much of South Carolina. Lots of Chick-fil-As.

North Carolina - finally! Aaron was happy.

Unfortunately, the beauty of North Carolina was hidden from us. Why? Because of fog.

It gave off this creepy, Civil War ghosts feel. Sadly, fog soon led to rain, which turned to downpour. And, due to time change issues, we were unable to get to my new apartment before they closed for the day, so moving was delayed until Saturday morning. But, I am not sure I would have wanted to move stuff Friday evening. I could barely move myself!

Moving in was not as easy as moving out, and that is because I am weak. Weak! I can carry boxes, but not furniture. And definitely not a recliner sofa. But, everything got in my apartment, which is still in the process of being unpacked. I hung something on the wall yesterday, so cosmetic progress is being made...very slowly. I am still searching for a job, but everyone I have spoken says that it should not be too difficult, so I hope they are right.

Moving, all in all, was pretty fun. Hard and a long road (literally and mentally) to get here, but so far I am glad I did it.

Seeing "Red"

A Perfect Red (by Amy Butler Greenfield) is a book I think I first read about in Slate. Being interested in most things historical, especially when taken from a slightly different perspective than the norm, I was intrigued. On my book list(s) the title went and, when I happened to be in a bookstore, I would poke around to see if A Perfect Red was on the shelves. Never could I find it, much to my amazement and disappointment. And, since I prefer, when purchasing a book, for it to be physically in my hands after payment and not wait 2 weeks for it to show up in a brown box, my search persisted. Eventually, thanks to a wicked sweet B&N coupon and no trace of the book in Austin, I bought it online.

Unfortunately, it took me a few months to sort through enough books to make my stack down to "Red." And, it was worth the wait. While the history of cochineal, the bug used to make the world-changing red of the book, was not as tumultuous as I thought it would be, reading how colors and dyes were status symbols was interesting. Sure, lower class people could wear red, but since the dye was cheap, usually plant-based, it washed out and faded very quickly. Cochineal, however, produced vibrant, bright reds (think British Redcoats). Cortes and his merry band of marauders were one of the first groups from Europe to "discover" cochineal in what is now Mexico, but they did not fully appreciate the value of the bug (which you may have seen if you looked closely at a prickly pear cactus. Cochineal are the bugs under the white filmy stuff). Cortes preferred the gold and silver more than the insect.

So, what did red do for Europe? The color kept Spain paid since it had a monopoly on the dye. Cochineal could only be grown in Mexico, and Spain controlled the area, so Spain controlled red. It led to scientific advances in technology and research - the birth of the microscope gives its thanks to the small bug. There was such a raging debate about whether cochineal was a plant or a bug, it had theologians searching scripture, some people saying it was a plant, an insect, or something in between called a "wormberry." Eventually, a chemist named William Perkin figured out how to get a red color (mauve) from coal tar, leading to a revolution in dye chemistry. Although the demand for cochineal has subsided, it is still used in common items such as lipstick, food coloring, and candy.

It was amazing to see how one color, over centuries, could change and shape the world. Even things as simple as what different colors represented when one wore them. Red went from being a devilish color to meaning passion and desire to falling out of vogue to be improper and a sign of a "loose" person. I suppose, to an extent, we carry those same representations today, but to a lesser degree. I generally do not think twice about a person wearing red or purple or blue. However, and maybe this is a female thing, I do have days when I walk into my closet and think to myself, "Today is a red day."

Where did I go?

Hello everyone! I just wanted to give y'all a quick "Where am I?" update. The Uhaul was packed, and driven halfway across the country and now all my worldly possessions are chilling out in boxes in my new casa in Raleigh. I will have road trip pictures here soon, including the most unusual breakfast sides I have personally encountered. Did you think I could go three days without finding something food-related to post on?

Once I have internet access at my place (I am bumming off of "the dude" right now) I will update some more. I hope to give y'all my opinion of the local restaurants and bemoan the loss of Texas BBQ and Tex Mex. I guess this means I will have to learn how to make enchiladas and fajitas now. Life is tough : )

Caramel Brownies

I have, on occasion, created a sweet confection or two for my small group at HCBC UT (best small group ever!). From those confections, one in particular was begged for the most often - Caramel Brownies. And so, with big news to deliver to them this week (more on that in another post when I have time and brain enough to), I decided it was time to break brownie with them again. And so, a sort of pictorial "how to make caramel brownies" - not that it is difficult.

1. After looking at the ingredient list, I went to the grocery store in search of the few things I did not have on hand. It was there that I realized something truly tragic - while the recipe calls for 6 ounces of evaporated milk, evaporated milk is sold in 5-ounce or 12(ish)-ounce cans. Drats! Not needing extra evaporated milk, I opted to be short an ounce and hoped it did not spell an early disaster for my brownies.

2. Unwrap a whole bag of caramels. Not the best part of the process, but undoubtedly better than when I cut up gumdrops into eensy pieces for zucchini muffins. Talk about sticky and time consuming.

3. Then I put the caramels in a pot with the evaporated milk over low-ish heat.


4. Then I read the recipe and realized half the evaporated milk was supposed to go in the batter. So...1/3 cup evaporated milk with a hint of caramel infusion went in the batter.

5. I melted a lot of butter. And the batter glistens in its new fatty addition. Purdy!

6. To make cutting easier, I lined the bottom of my 9x13 with parchment and gave it a little spray with the non-stick spray stuff (both under the parchment and on top of it).

7. The good part about having so much butter in the batter is that when I put half of it in the bottom of the pan, it was fun to smoosh and spread around with my fingers. I suppose if someone had textile issues with gooey oily things this would be a dark part of their experience.

8. While the bottom half of the brownie baked, I continued to stir the caramels. It was beginning to look a lot like ice cream topping.


9. When the timer beeped at me, out came the brownies and on went the chocolate chips...


...and then the caramel. Can I eat it now?


10. Since the batter is not too spreadable over a layer of liquid caramel, I smooshed super ball-sized bits of batter in my hands to flatten it, then laid it over the caramel, eventually covering a good deal of the sticky stuff.


11. Back in the oven it went, and I was left with a dilemma. What to do with a pot with caramel sauce clinging to its sides and no apple slices to be found?


12. Twenty minutes later and the brownies were done. And self-control began to weaken. Brownies are for small group, but warm brownies with warm chocolate chips and caramel - they would not notice one little piece missing, would they? Sadly for me, my college kids are smart and would notice something missing...especially since my piece of choice would have been from the middle of the brownie pan.


13. Finished products sliced and oozy chewy deliciousness. I could not get any pictures of my group eating them because they were too quick for me.