Most nights when we get up from the table I say, "That was good," or "I enjoyed it."
After this meal, I said, "Well, that was gross."
Jeffrey didn't find it gross but he didn't find it tasty, either.
I've had this recipe for a while. Last week when thinking about what we'd have for dinner, I went through my stash of recipes, the ones I print after watching something on the Food Network, the ones I tear out of magazines, and decided this was the week for Boudin with Jambalaya Grits. It's Mardi Gras time, right?
The recipe says it takes 30 minutes to prepare, which I knew was crazy talk. I could look at the recipe and know that all that chopping would take longer than that. It took me a full hour and a half. (I'm not fast in the kitchen and I like that; the kitchen is a place where I like to enjoy and savor and take my time.)
As I began cooking, after reading the recipe twice, a few things seemed odd.
First the ingredients, nothing too bizarre here:
2 pounds fresh boudin sausage links
Water, to cover
Salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup chopped yellow onions
1/2 cup chopped green bell peppers
1/2 cup chopped celery
Freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1/2 cup fresh tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
4 ounces small diced chicken
Is that chicken cooked or raw? What would you think? Is it a small chicken diced? Joking; I know that means small-diced chicken but it should be punctuated like that. It's more clear! Then again, would you dice raw chicken meat? I can't say I ever have.
Essence, recipe follows
Oh, please. I used our cajun spice mix.
4 ounces small diced andouille or smoked sausage
4 ounces small diced ham
5 cups milk
1 cup veal reduction
Veal reduction? Seriously? Funny. My neighborhood store doesn't carry that.
2 cups grits
1 cup grated white cheddar (about 4 ounces)
1/4 cup chopped green onions
Directions
Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the boudin sausage and poach for 4 to 5 minutes or until the sausages are firm. (Gross! Boiling boudin. Ugh. I know lots of places in Louisiana do it but that sounds - and was indeed - gross.) Drain and set aside.
In medium saucepan, heat the olive oil. Add the onions, peppers and celery. Season with salt and pepper. Saute for 2 to 3 minutes, or until wilted. Add the garlic and tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Saute for 2 minutes. Season the chicken with Essence. Add the chicken and saute to 2 minutes, stirring constantly. (So the chicken was supposed to be raw? I poached a bone-in chicken breast instead.) Add the sausage and ham and continue to cook for 2 minutes. Add the milk and veal reduction (or chicken stock for us poor folk who live in the country) and bring the liquid to a boil.
Reduce to a simmer and stir in the grits. (What? In the pan with the sauteed vegetables, the sausage, and the chicken? Really? Good thing I used the big saute pan even though the recipe says to use a medium saucepan.) Stir for 30 seconds, then add the cheese and stir until the cheese melts. Cook, uncovered, for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the grits are tender and creamy. (Four or five minutes. Are these instant grits? Because I don't have those in my house. We used stone-ground grits from Charleston, South Carolina, the way they should be. Cook for five minutes??) Stir in the green onions. In a saute pan, heat the remaining oil. Pan sear the boudin sausage (Thank goodness. Images of that boiled boudin just...no.) for 2 minutes on each side.
To serve, mound the grits in the center of each plate. Lay two links of sausage on top of the grits. Spoon the sauce over the sausage and serve.
For all I know, instant grits would have been good in this recipe. When I've cooked with stone-ground grits before they were creamy and rich and the resulting dish reminded me of the best risotto. This? Not so much. Not at all.
I stirred the mixture and frowned at it. Jeffrey asked what I thought about it. I told him it looked like a big ole pan o'gruel; the opposite of appetizing.
The dish had little flavor. It needed lots of seasoning that the recipe didn't call for. I added more than what it said and it was still very bland. Tasteless.
If I were going to make this again, and I don't think I will, but if I was - I'd do the vegetables and meats as the recipe says with the exception of not boiling the boudin. Gah. I'd cook some rice and stir the vegetable-sausage ham mixture into the rice and serve, with or without grilled boudin.
Overall, I thought the meal was a waste of good sausage and honey baked ham.
Showing posts with label bad bad meals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad bad meals. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Maybe I'll Just Stick To Watching It On the Tee Vee
During the first episode of The Next Food Network Star, I picked Jeffrey, Zen Jeffrey, not to be confused with my Jeffrey, to win. He didn’t but he made it to the final round.
Melissa won. Melissa is perky and happy and some people already dislike her as much as they do Rachel Ray. I like Melissa and when she made prepared this chicken dish with onions and lemon juice as part of the final competition, Jeffrey and I both liked the way it looked and the ease of preparation and we made plans to cook it for Sunday dinner.
When I’m cooking, I like to get out all the ingredients and measure them out before starting on the recipe. That’s part of the fun, and it makes everything go smoothly.
Plus I get to use these bowls.
We got them at a gourmet shop in Charleston. I love them.
I measured out 1/4 cup white wine in one and 4 tablespoons of olive oil in another. I flattened the chicken breasts, poured the oil in the pan, and heated it. When I put the chicken in the pan, it didn’t sizzle. I picked up the red bowl and smelled the liquid in it. Olive oil. The olive oil that was supposed to be in the skillet cooking the chicken.
“What, please tell me, did I put in that pan?”
Jeffrey peered in the pan and said, “That would be white wine.”
I added the olive oil but by then the chicken was beginning to cook/boil/steam in white wine. When the chicken got done, which seemed to take forever, it stuck to the pan, probably because it had been bizarrely cooked in white wine rather than sautéed in olive oil. Then it was time for the red onions to go in the same pan, cook up nice and slow, then you deglaze the pan with chicken stock.
Jeffrey poured in the bowl of red onions. The skillet was dry so I poured in a few tablespoons of chicken stock.
Jeffrey said, “I think the onions were supposed to cook down first.”
I looked at the recipe and sure ‘nough.
“Oh, well!” I said because, what else could you say? The dish was already far too gone by that point.
The onions cooked down some and I added the rest of the chicken stock and the lemon juice. They cooked and cooked.
It was hot in the kitchen. From April to September, we plan a lot of meals around not heating up the kitchen. It’s too hot. This particular meal was an especially bad idea on my part as it was mostly sautéing with a big pan over a big eye on medium heat. The oven was going, too, with the potatoes au gratin.
The spinach that the chicken was supposed to lay on could have gone in the microwave, but I like to sauté some onion and garlic first before adding in the spinach so I cooked the spinach on the stovetop, too. Because it wasn’t quite hot enough in there, you know.
I went to chop an onion to find we didn’t any more onions. Screw it. A shallot and two cloves of garlic will have to do.
Then once all that mess finally got done we pulled the potatoes au gratin out to find they weren’t quite done. I couldn’t get a fork through them. Jeffrey thought they were close enough; they’d been in there the 40 minutes the recipe I called for. I kept trying to stab one with a fork and the potatoes valiantly resisted the fork so we threw them back in the oven and closed the door. Hot, it was hot in that kitchen.
Ten minutes or so later we called it done. Whatever, is what we were at that point. I’d already thought about the hot dogs that I knew were in the fridge. If worse came to worse, I wouldn’t be above heating one up for dinner.
We turned an au gratin out onto a plate. Funny. On the pilot, Melissa’s were golden brown and crusty with cream and butter and cheese. Ours looked pale and wan, like someone who needed to spend more time outdoors.
We placed a chicken breast atop the spinach bed and topped the chicken with some of the stupid red onion mess and sat down to eat. It was edible.
The chicken didn’t have much flavor. I’d seasoned it as directed, with salt, pepper, and dried thyme. The recipe called for dredging the chicken in flour – plain old white flour. I couldn’t have that. I seasoned that naked white flour with creole spice and pepper. Still, no flavor.
After a few bites one of us said, “Well. It’s not awful.”
Contrast that with the night before when we did a trial run of a menu we’re having for a dinner party this coming weekend: I took one bite and put down my fork to clap my hands. I was so happy everything tasted so good.
With this meal I shrugged after each bite.
Massive fail.
I would say that I’ve learned to read the directions from start to finish before beginning but I already know that all too well. I did it, too, then got distracted and busy and went off course. It’s not really Melissa’s fault that I didn’t follow the recipe. We’ll try it again, probably in November when it’s cooler.
Rustic Chicken with Onions and Lemons
Ingredients
· 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, sliced in half crossways (butterflied, cut all the way through)
· 1 teaspoon dried thyme, plus 1 small bunch fresh thyme, leaves chopped
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
· 4 tablespoons olive oil
· 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
· 1 red onion, thinly sliced
· 1/4 cup white wine, optional
· 1 cup chicken broth
· 3 lemons, juiced
· 1 to 2 tablespoons butter
· Spinach "bed", recipe follows
Directions
Season chicken with dried thyme and salt and pepper. Heat a large saute pan over medium heat and add the oil. Dredge the chicken in flour, add to the hot oil and saute until cooked through. Set chicken aside to rest on plate tented with foil.
In same saute pan, over low heat, add onions and fresh thyme and cook until aromatic.
In a measuring cup, measure out wine, if using, and broth, and add the lemon juice.
Turn the heat up to high, and deglaze the pan with the broth mixture until starting to reduce.
Remove the pan from the heat and finish the sauce by whisking in butter. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.
Place a bed of cooked spinach on a serving platter, top with the chicken. Spoon the sauce over the chicken and serve.
Spinach "bed":
· 1 bag pre-washed fresh spinach
· 3 tablespoons water
· 1 tablespoon butter
· 1 lemon, juiced
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Microwave spinach in a microwave-proof dish with a few tablespoons of water on high for 5 to 6 minutes, or until hot. Drain, and toss with butter, lemon juice, and salt and pepper, to taste.
Individual Potato Au Gratins
Ingredients
· Vegetable spray
· 2 large russet potatoes, roughly peeled and thinly sliced
· 1/2 cup grated Swiss cheese
· 2 green onions, finely chopped
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
· 3/4 cup heavy cream
Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Spray 8 muffin tins with vegetable spray. Layer potato slices, cheese, and onions into each muffin cup. Season with salt and pepper and top each gratin with 1 or 2 tablespoons of heavy cream. Cover with foil and bake for 30 to 40 minutes, removing the foil halfway through cooking time. Invert gratins onto plate and serve.
Melissa won. Melissa is perky and happy and some people already dislike her as much as they do Rachel Ray. I like Melissa and when she made prepared this chicken dish with onions and lemon juice as part of the final competition, Jeffrey and I both liked the way it looked and the ease of preparation and we made plans to cook it for Sunday dinner.
When I’m cooking, I like to get out all the ingredients and measure them out before starting on the recipe. That’s part of the fun, and it makes everything go smoothly.
Plus I get to use these bowls.
We got them at a gourmet shop in Charleston. I love them. I measured out 1/4 cup white wine in one and 4 tablespoons of olive oil in another. I flattened the chicken breasts, poured the oil in the pan, and heated it. When I put the chicken in the pan, it didn’t sizzle. I picked up the red bowl and smelled the liquid in it. Olive oil. The olive oil that was supposed to be in the skillet cooking the chicken.
“What, please tell me, did I put in that pan?”
Jeffrey peered in the pan and said, “That would be white wine.”
I added the olive oil but by then the chicken was beginning to cook/boil/steam in white wine. When the chicken got done, which seemed to take forever, it stuck to the pan, probably because it had been bizarrely cooked in white wine rather than sautéed in olive oil. Then it was time for the red onions to go in the same pan, cook up nice and slow, then you deglaze the pan with chicken stock.
Jeffrey poured in the bowl of red onions. The skillet was dry so I poured in a few tablespoons of chicken stock.
Jeffrey said, “I think the onions were supposed to cook down first.”
I looked at the recipe and sure ‘nough.
“Oh, well!” I said because, what else could you say? The dish was already far too gone by that point.
The onions cooked down some and I added the rest of the chicken stock and the lemon juice. They cooked and cooked.
It was hot in the kitchen. From April to September, we plan a lot of meals around not heating up the kitchen. It’s too hot. This particular meal was an especially bad idea on my part as it was mostly sautéing with a big pan over a big eye on medium heat. The oven was going, too, with the potatoes au gratin.
The spinach that the chicken was supposed to lay on could have gone in the microwave, but I like to sauté some onion and garlic first before adding in the spinach so I cooked the spinach on the stovetop, too. Because it wasn’t quite hot enough in there, you know.
I went to chop an onion to find we didn’t any more onions. Screw it. A shallot and two cloves of garlic will have to do.
Then once all that mess finally got done we pulled the potatoes au gratin out to find they weren’t quite done. I couldn’t get a fork through them. Jeffrey thought they were close enough; they’d been in there the 40 minutes the recipe I called for. I kept trying to stab one with a fork and the potatoes valiantly resisted the fork so we threw them back in the oven and closed the door. Hot, it was hot in that kitchen.
Ten minutes or so later we called it done. Whatever, is what we were at that point. I’d already thought about the hot dogs that I knew were in the fridge. If worse came to worse, I wouldn’t be above heating one up for dinner.
We turned an au gratin out onto a plate. Funny. On the pilot, Melissa’s were golden brown and crusty with cream and butter and cheese. Ours looked pale and wan, like someone who needed to spend more time outdoors.
We placed a chicken breast atop the spinach bed and topped the chicken with some of the stupid red onion mess and sat down to eat. It was edible.
The chicken didn’t have much flavor. I’d seasoned it as directed, with salt, pepper, and dried thyme. The recipe called for dredging the chicken in flour – plain old white flour. I couldn’t have that. I seasoned that naked white flour with creole spice and pepper. Still, no flavor.
After a few bites one of us said, “Well. It’s not awful.”
Contrast that with the night before when we did a trial run of a menu we’re having for a dinner party this coming weekend: I took one bite and put down my fork to clap my hands. I was so happy everything tasted so good.
With this meal I shrugged after each bite.
Massive fail.
I would say that I’ve learned to read the directions from start to finish before beginning but I already know that all too well. I did it, too, then got distracted and busy and went off course. It’s not really Melissa’s fault that I didn’t follow the recipe. We’ll try it again, probably in November when it’s cooler.
Rustic Chicken with Onions and Lemons
Ingredients
· 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, sliced in half crossways (butterflied, cut all the way through)
· 1 teaspoon dried thyme, plus 1 small bunch fresh thyme, leaves chopped
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
· 4 tablespoons olive oil
· 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
· 1 red onion, thinly sliced
· 1/4 cup white wine, optional
· 1 cup chicken broth
· 3 lemons, juiced
· 1 to 2 tablespoons butter
· Spinach "bed", recipe follows
Directions
Season chicken with dried thyme and salt and pepper. Heat a large saute pan over medium heat and add the oil. Dredge the chicken in flour, add to the hot oil and saute until cooked through. Set chicken aside to rest on plate tented with foil.
In same saute pan, over low heat, add onions and fresh thyme and cook until aromatic.
In a measuring cup, measure out wine, if using, and broth, and add the lemon juice.
Turn the heat up to high, and deglaze the pan with the broth mixture until starting to reduce.
Remove the pan from the heat and finish the sauce by whisking in butter. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.
Place a bed of cooked spinach on a serving platter, top with the chicken. Spoon the sauce over the chicken and serve.
Spinach "bed":
· 1 bag pre-washed fresh spinach
· 3 tablespoons water
· 1 tablespoon butter
· 1 lemon, juiced
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Microwave spinach in a microwave-proof dish with a few tablespoons of water on high for 5 to 6 minutes, or until hot. Drain, and toss with butter, lemon juice, and salt and pepper, to taste.
Individual Potato Au Gratins
Ingredients
· Vegetable spray
· 2 large russet potatoes, roughly peeled and thinly sliced
· 1/2 cup grated Swiss cheese
· 2 green onions, finely chopped
· Salt and freshly ground black pepper
· 3/4 cup heavy cream
Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Spray 8 muffin tins with vegetable spray. Layer potato slices, cheese, and onions into each muffin cup. Season with salt and pepper and top each gratin with 1 or 2 tablespoons of heavy cream. Cover with foil and bake for 30 to 40 minutes, removing the foil halfway through cooking time. Invert gratins onto plate and serve.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Text message to The Boyfriend 4/03/08 6:45 p.m. "That meal was so bad I'm going to have to blog about it."
I mentioned here the writers group meeting tonight at a local restaurant. (I'm sitting on my hands to keep from putting the sarcastic quotes around restaurant.)
If I had mentioned the name of the restaurant in that post, I wouldn't write this.
But since I didn't...I am spewing forth my venom. I have a headache now, that's how the food affected me, is what I'm saying.
We've met at this restaurant several times before. I've had the salad with chicken, which was good, and the crawfish poboy, which was fine. I've had the gumbo, which was not bad at all.
This time, I ordered the special, which was a choice of an entree, a side dish, salad, and dessert.
I opted for the salad, grilled chicken, pasta "alfredo," (BELIEVE ME, I have full right to use those quotation marks) and white chocolate bread pudding.
On a positive note? The salad with wine and cheese dressing was entirely edible, after I set aside the half of it that was those hard, white pieces of iceberg. (Who eats that stuff??)
You know those pre-grilled chicken strips that come in a bag at the grocery store? That are compacted and taste all processed? I know what they taste like because I occasionally purchase them. There. I said it.(See, I am no gourmet.) They're fine for chicken quesadillas; put enough monterey jack cheese and green onions and it covers up the taste and texture of the chicken.
That's what the grilled chicken was. Somebody in the kitchen grabbed a bag of those abominations from the freezer and threw one in the microwave.
The pasta "alfredo," judging from the taste, texture, and appearance, was sour cream with a spoonful of butter, or rather margarine/oleo swirled into it and tossed with gummy, overcooked spaghetti. The grilled chicken breast was floating in a pool of that wrongness that was congealing on the plate.
Curiously, my plate with the grilled chicken and pasta "alfredo" also had a serving of rice. Did whoever put together that plate think I needed two servings of carbohydrates? Maybe he knew how awful the pasta "alfredo" was and considerately gave me another option.
It was our waitresses third night on the job, if I had to guess, which didn't help matters a whole lot, although I know she can't be held responsible for the kitchen.
Then there was dessert, which she forgot for a very long stretch to bring us: Two folks at our table ordered lemon icebox pie, which I had carefully considered. I love the tartness of creamy lemon filling with sweet crunchy graham cracker crust. (I don't know that they fared any better; their pie appeared to have been on a plate, uncovered, in the back of the refrigerator for a long, long time.) The allure of warm white chocolate bread pudding was strong. I've had stellar bread pudding and I've had mediocre bread pudding. I don't know that I've ever had bad bread pudding before. But I have now!
It was served in a cup brimming with the white chocolate sauce (take note of the restraint I displayed there, what with the lack of sarcastic quotation marks). I detected little - or no - white chocolate flavor, artificial or genuine, in the sauce. You know the plastic container of icing that comes with the refrigerated cinnamon rolls? I think that's what it was. There was a ring of yellow goo collected on the sides of the dish that I suspect was margarine/oleo swirled into the icing before they heated it in the microwave.
My Diet Coke was good, though.
If I had mentioned the name of the restaurant in that post, I wouldn't write this.
But since I didn't...I am spewing forth my venom. I have a headache now, that's how the food affected me, is what I'm saying.
We've met at this restaurant several times before. I've had the salad with chicken, which was good, and the crawfish poboy, which was fine. I've had the gumbo, which was not bad at all.
This time, I ordered the special, which was a choice of an entree, a side dish, salad, and dessert.
I opted for the salad, grilled chicken, pasta "alfredo," (BELIEVE ME, I have full right to use those quotation marks) and white chocolate bread pudding.
On a positive note? The salad with wine and cheese dressing was entirely edible, after I set aside the half of it that was those hard, white pieces of iceberg. (Who eats that stuff??)
You know those pre-grilled chicken strips that come in a bag at the grocery store? That are compacted and taste all processed? I know what they taste like because I occasionally purchase them. There. I said it.(See, I am no gourmet.) They're fine for chicken quesadillas; put enough monterey jack cheese and green onions and it covers up the taste and texture of the chicken.
That's what the grilled chicken was. Somebody in the kitchen grabbed a bag of those abominations from the freezer and threw one in the microwave.
The pasta "alfredo," judging from the taste, texture, and appearance, was sour cream with a spoonful of butter, or rather margarine/oleo swirled into it and tossed with gummy, overcooked spaghetti. The grilled chicken breast was floating in a pool of that wrongness that was congealing on the plate.
Curiously, my plate with the grilled chicken and pasta "alfredo" also had a serving of rice. Did whoever put together that plate think I needed two servings of carbohydrates? Maybe he knew how awful the pasta "alfredo" was and considerately gave me another option.
It was our waitresses third night on the job, if I had to guess, which didn't help matters a whole lot, although I know she can't be held responsible for the kitchen.
Then there was dessert, which she forgot for a very long stretch to bring us: Two folks at our table ordered lemon icebox pie, which I had carefully considered. I love the tartness of creamy lemon filling with sweet crunchy graham cracker crust. (I don't know that they fared any better; their pie appeared to have been on a plate, uncovered, in the back of the refrigerator for a long, long time.) The allure of warm white chocolate bread pudding was strong. I've had stellar bread pudding and I've had mediocre bread pudding. I don't know that I've ever had bad bread pudding before. But I have now!
It was served in a cup brimming with the white chocolate sauce (take note of the restraint I displayed there, what with the lack of sarcastic quotation marks). I detected little - or no - white chocolate flavor, artificial or genuine, in the sauce. You know the plastic container of icing that comes with the refrigerated cinnamon rolls? I think that's what it was. There was a ring of yellow goo collected on the sides of the dish that I suspect was margarine/oleo swirled into the icing before they heated it in the microwave.
My Diet Coke was good, though.
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