The Spud's Slow Cooker Spicy Tomato Chicken

 As she's been growing up watching me cook, The Spud has taken an interest in cooking. She's helped out with some of my meal preps and has even made dinner from a recipe herself once or twice. This time, she expressed a desire to come up with a recipe from scratch. She has discovered that spice can be a lot of fun and rampaged through our cabinets asking questions and pulling ingredients. She wanted spicy, but not so spicy that everyone couldn't eat and enjoy it. She picked all the ingredients and we worked together to decide how much of each to use. I'll be damned if she didn't nail it on her first try. Everybody in the house loved it, and we've made it again since. Some of the ingredients may be a little troublesome to find, but it will be worth it. Give it a try and let us know what you think! If you don't like it, I guess you can still tell us if you're OK with crushing the ego of a 10 year old. You do you. As always, notes are in blue.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs boneless chicken breasts (you could definitely use thighs here if you prefer, but The Spud likes white meat better)
• 1 quart (32 ounces) canned tomatoes, drained
• 1 pint tandoori tomato jam (this may prove tricky to find. We made ours from scratch. You could always just buy/make some tomato jam and add tandoori seasonings. Both are available separately on Amazon)
• 1 teaspoon Kashmiri chili powder (cayenne would work here, too)
• 1 teaspoon tamarind hot sauce (we used Tangy Tamarindo)
• 1/2 red onion, chopped
• 1 teaspoon dried cilantro (if you're one of those people who think it tastes like soap, use parsley, or lawn clippings)
• Salt and Pepper to taste

Directions

1. In a slow cooker (at least 3 quart size), lay the chicken in a layer at the bottom. 
2. Sprinkle salt, pepper, cilantro, and chili powder over the chicken.
3. In a bowl, mix tomatoes, tomato jam, and hot sauce. Stir the onions into the sauce.
4. Pour over chicken
5. Cook on HIGH for 4 hours. Take the lid off for the last 30 minutes to let the sauce thicken up.
6. Serve with/over rice

Good Times!

T-Bird Hot Sauce

     Every year I plant way too many hot peppers and every year I find myself desperate to find ways to use them up. I have bags and bags of peppers that I've dried, but those really start to take up space. I am always looking for new and exciting ways to use up lots of peppers in one go. This particular sauce certainly fits the bill, using five dozen peppers. It also uses up some tamarind concentrate that I mistakenly bought when I was shopping for tahini. For whatever reason, I'm always mixing tahini and tamarind up, which generally doesn't end well in a recipe. Though very spicy, this sauce has a wonderful deep and mellow flavor underneath from the tamarind and guajilo. This is a go-to sauce for chicken or pork dishes. It's thick enough to hold up on the barbecue or hot wings. As for the name? I used Thai peppers in the recipe. I know "bird" specifically refers to the dried pepper, but the name was too good to pass up. "T" for Thai or Tamarind and "Bird" for the alternate pepper name. I am so damned clever it hurts. As always, notes are in blue.

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1 Tablespoon tamarind concentrate
• 1 cup cider vinegar
• 1/3 cup water
• 60 Thai bird chili peppers, stemmed (cayenne or serrano can be substituted, but you may need to use less, as those peppers are generally larger)
• 1 dried Ancho chili
• 2 dried Guajillo chilis
• 4 tomatoes, chopped
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 carrot, chopped
• 1 rib celery, chopped

Directions

1. Add all ingredients to a food processor (make sure it is a large capacity processor, at least 7 cups. 10 would be better, unless you're a fan of leaking and caustic messes. Caustic Mess would be an outstanding punk band name). Process until smooth.
2. Transfer mixture to a nonreactive pot and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and let simmer for about 10 minutes. (If you're not planning on canning this sauce for storage, you're done. If you want to store this sauce long term, go on to the next steps)
3. Prepare a boiling water canner and submerge 4 half pint jars (or two full pint jars) to sterilize in the boiling water. (You can be doing this while the sauce is simmering)
4. Remove the jars and fill with the warm sauce. Leave 1/4" headspace in each jar.
5. Seal the jars with a 2 piece lid and process in the boiling water bath for 12 minutes (If you're doing full pints, go for about 16 minutes).
6. After 12 minutes, remove from the bath and set on a wire rack to cool. Eventually, you'll hear the satisfying "pop" that tells you the jar has sealed. If after a few hours, a jar hasn't sealed, put on a new lid and try reboiling for another 12 minutes. If it doesn't seal after that, just give up and use the sauce. It will hold for a long time in the fridge. Properly processed and sealed, the sauce is good for at least a year. As always, double check everything with the National Center for Home Food Preservation to ensure you don't poison anybody.

Good Times!

Slow Cooker Pork Loin and Hominy

     The school year is in full swing, which means the slow-cooker has been brought out for heavy use. Generally we throw together a few things in our cookers on Sunday and eat on them for lunches and dinners during the work week. I started this week with an idea that had been knocking around in my head for a couple of days. Pork and hominy seemed like a good mix, so I decided to use those as key ingredients and give it a generally Southwest feel. I used my own home-canned chili tomatoes. Any canned chili tomato will do. The recipe below is written assuming you're using plain old canned tomatoes. If you find pre-seasoned chili tomatoes, omit the chili powder, cumin and paprika. If you drain the liquid, this makes a decent taco filling. It's also good over rice. It doesn't have a ton of heat, so you can fine tune it as you need.

Slow Cooker Pork Loin with Hominy

Ingredients

• Pork loin, about 3 pounds
• 1 can white or yellow hominy, drained
• 1 can black eye peas or bean of your choice
• 1 quart canned tomatoes, undrained.
• 1 tablespoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 3 cayenne peppers
• 2 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
• 1 medium onion, roughly chopped
• 1 can cream of celery soup

Directions

1. Heat some oil in a large pan. Cook loin about 3 minutes on each side, until just starting to brown.
2. Pour tomatoes and spices into slow cooker. Lay the loin, fat side up, on top of the tomatoes. 
3. Spread remaining ingredients over top of loin.
4. Cook 4-5 hours on HIGH or until meat breaks apart easily with a fork.

UPDATE: I have added a YouTube video of the actual cooking process! How exciting! Or not. Depends on how low you set the bar.

Good times!

An Observation On My Parents' Cooking

     I was lucky enough to grow up in a house where both parents cooked. Granted, they did not cook every night. Both of my parents worked full time jobs. Mom usually wasn't home until about 5 PM and Dad an hour or so later. They wouldn't cook every night. Usually they'd cook a few big meals that we could eat on the rest of the week.
    On its own, this isn't anything special. Lots of parents do this. What stands out in my memory is that I don't recall them ever consulting a recipe when they cooked. I can't remember many of my recipes, no matter how often I cook them. I'm completely incapable of making my meatballs without the recipe handy. My parents either had fantastic memories, or were tremendous freestyle cooks.
     Generally my Mom came up with the core recipes. Dad would often just riff on her recipes. My Dad's chili that I've spoken of before is actually based on my Mom's recipe. She had some solid recipes. She did a chicken, veggie and rice dish that she could throw together in minutes. I swear by her meatloaf recipe. Even my wife, who normally doesn't like meatloaf, likes this meatloaf. She had a London Broil with garlic potatoes that was astounding. And as a Jewish Mother, she could deal out the chicken soup and matzoh balls like no body's business. Some day I shall speak to you of her sausage and neck bones in tomato sauce.
     Dad had his standards as well. He did a fantastic linguine in white clam sauce. He was the master of all things grilled. Nobody could make an omelet as good as him. His chili was the stuff of legend. He made a wonderful fried matzoh for breakfast. He eventually would take over Thanksgiving cooking duties from my Mom and did a wonderful job of it.
     I owe a good deal of my passion for cooking to my parents. Without ever trying, they showed me that, with very little effort, you could put good, home-made food on the table. There's a little of my Mom and Dad in everything I cook.

Oh, stop it.

Good times!

Thoughts on Chili

     I cook chili because of my father. He imparted a great deal of wisdom upon me during his time on Earth. One of his finest nuggets was that if someone did something particularly bad, that person did it "like a man with a paper rectum."

RECTUM? Damn near killed 'em!

     He went to his grave never having adequately explained what that meant. He also told me that being able to make good chili was a very important skill. That was clearly defined for me. The base of his recipe was a simple 1:1 ratio for meat, tomato sauce and beans. 1 pound of meat, 1 28oz can tomato sauce, 1 can kidney beans. He'd normally drag out his cauldron and drop in five pounds of ground beef.  Then he'd work the magic. Onions, green peppers, and the seasonings. My lord, the seasonings. Nothing was off limits. At the very least, a tin of regular chili powder and a tin of hot chili powder were going in. Possibly two of each. I never really got a handle on what all he was throwing in there. It was just enough to watch him go. His favorite thing to add was something called "Desert Dust." It was nothing more than powdered jalapeno.

     When he threw in enough of whatever he wanted to throw in, he'd set it to simmer for a couple hours. Then we'd have a bowl. No cheese. No sour cream. He felt those things were for the weak. He would always serve a loaf of garlic bread on the side. The chili had heat and flavor. It was wonderful. "It's better the next day," he would tell us. He was right. A night in the fridge would take it to another level entirely. We'd eat on that pot of chili for days on end without getting tired of it. He never had a solid recipe for chili. He just had that base and sort of winged it. It was a little different each time, but it never varied too far from the base flavor.  Certain things were off limits in chili for my dad. Cinnamon and chocolate were two things he would never put in chili. If it was served over anything, it was elbow macaroni.

If you don't love chili, you're probably a Communist.

      I love making chili. Over the years my recipe has drifted away from my father's. I add chorizo, take out the pepper, use cumin and liquid smoke.  I play with a lot more seasoning than my father did.  I make it hotter or more mild depending on my audience. I've made it so hot it's caused migraines and one unconfirmed death. I make it because it is a comfort food. Mostly I make it because it reminds me of my dad.

Good times!