RECIPE: Rickey's Tasty Tamil Tenders

In Rickey's latest recipe, he figured he’d share something a tad more exotic than your run of the mill stew this time around. For those of you already fretting about the possible complexity of this dish, have no fear: cooking Indian food doesn’t need to be difficult or even remotely challenging. In fact, other than setting off the smoke alarm while making this dish, Rickey was for the most part, calm as a Hindu cow while whipping up this dish. Got a broiler and about $20 in your wallet? Well then you’re in business skippy. You see, Rickey loves cooking, but being an incredibly lazy man, he prefers preparing succulent dishes with the minimal possible effort. So behold! This wondrous recipe only calls for three major ingredients:

1) Tandoori mix from your local Indian Grocery store (find yours, pronto). Here’s a link to the particular mix Rickey likes to use.

2) Large container of Greek yogurt—preferably Fage. Don’t get cute and opt for plane jane yogurt as this recipe requires the tanginess that only swarthy Mediterranean cows can provide.

3) Boneless chicken breasts. You can splurge on organic ones if you’re feeling frisky, but frankly, Rickey has never been able to discern between free range chicken and that of the Perdue variety.

What's better than a recipe requiring a scant three ingredients? How about a recipe featuring a scant three steps?

1) Mix together the yogurt and the tandoori paste. There are measurements to follow on the back of the tandoori packet, but Rickey says damn the torpedoes and just add enough tandoori paste to the yogurt until the sauce is a dark yellowish/brownish color. The more paste you add, the spicier the sauce will be. Those in search of something less gastronomically provocative can always add less. Do what you want: you’re the hero of this story, not us.

2) Cut the chicken breasts into bite sized pieces, and marinate them in the sauce in the refrigerator for three hours. For the record, Rickey loves marinating things. Is there a better feeling than being free to play Guitar Hero III with the blessed assurance that seriously good shit is transpiring in your fridge? We think not.

3) Thread the chicken on skewers, brush the pieces with melted butter (or ghee, which is Indian clarified butter and yields a better taste). Broil or grill the skewers for 4 to 5 minutes per side, turning once and brushing again. Here’s what the end result should look like:


Is it authentic Indian food? Not particularly, no. But then again, neither are other westernized Indian dishes like Chicken Tikka Masala, and you think they’re pretty damned tasty, don’t you? If we can use an analogy, Rickey's recipe is to authentic Indian cuisine as the Epcot version of Paris is to the real thing. But for faux Indian food, it's not half bad, and besides, you don't really feel like grinding cumin seeds in a mortar and pestle, do you?

And no, broiling probably won’t yield the same results as a proper tandoori oven, but unless you’ve got LTTE members constructing a large clay furnace in your back yard, the broiling method will have to do for now. Also, most Indian grocery stores sell coriander chutney which is very good for dipping the chicken pieces in. Add some basmati rice to the chicken pieces and voila, you’ve got yourself a no fuss Indian meal.

Best of luck (and try not to set the smoke alarm off like Rickey did).

RECIPE: Rickey's Irish Stew

Being a northeasterner by trade, Rickey rather enjoys the wintery months and has come to expect a seasonal chill in the air from November through March. Therefore, when the jet stream goes all wonky and it’s suddenly 60 degrees in January, Rickey gets very confused and angry and decides that corrective action must be taken. And what is that corrective action, you might ask? Why cooking a hearty winter stew of course (what? You though Rickey would try to reduce his carbon footprint? Nah, that shtick is for suckers). Housewives and hobbits everywhere agree—a flavorful stew is an essential part of winter cuisine. Who cares if you were wearing shorts yesterday? It’s 32 freaking degrees again and you’re going to cook appropriately godamnit.

We like cooking up a dish that requires slow simmering on low heat for several hours—thereby filling one’s abode with earthy aromas. More importantly, we also love the stew because, in general, Rickey enjoys preparing food that requires very little attention beyond some initial chopping and pan frying. Think of a good stew as sort of a “fire and forget” weapon in your arsenal of cooking abilities. (In other words, they’re pretty hard to fuck up).

So give Rickey’s Irish Stew recipe a shot, it’s got everything you need: protein, carbohydrates, vegetables, a plethora of seasonings, and most importantly, two different varieties of booze. It’s perfect for a frostbitten Sunday afternoon. We dunno…. when the Giants are playing the Packers on the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field perhaps? Once you’re done with the stew, don’t forget a loaf of crusty bread to sop up the stew. Forget utensils: you owe it to yourself to savor this dish like an indentured peasant from days of yore. Alright, we know, enough foreplay Rickey, here’s the recipe:

1/4 cup olive oil (not Bertolini’s, the good stuff)
2 pounds stew beef, cut into 1-inch pieces (or lamb, if you’re feeling gamey)
6 large garlic cloves, minced (good for the heart and guaranteed to keep loved ones and vampires away)
6 cups beef stock or canned beef broth
1 cup of Guinness Draught (or more)
1 cup of fine red wine (again, or more)
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 bay leaves
1/4 stick butter
3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 7 cups)
1 large onion, chopped up
2 cups cut peeled carrots
Salt and Pepper
Chopped fresh parsley

Heat the olive oil in a heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Coat the beef in flour and sauté it until it’s brown on all sides. Add the garlic and sauté it for another minute or so. Add the beef stock, Guinness, red wine, tomato paste, sugar, thyme, Worcestershire sauce and bay leaves. Stir it all together then bring mixture to boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low, then cover it and simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile in another part of the kitchen, melt the butter in another large pot over medium heat. Add the potatoes, onion and carrots. Sauté the vegetables until they’re golden brown, (about 20 minutes). Set ‘em aside until the beef stew mixture has simmered for one hour.

Once it has, add the vegetables to the beef stew. Put the lid back on and simmer until vegetables and beef are very tender. This could take anywhere from an hour to two hours--just test the meat every now and then for tenderness. Add salt and pepper to your liking, remove the bay leaves, and serve the stew sprinkled with chopped parsley on top.

RECIPE: Chicken Saltimbocca for the Rest of Us (and Haley’s first foray into food styling…

When I was living the grad student lifestyle up in Boston, my favorite little Italian restaurant was Antonia’s in Davis Square, Somerville. They made a chicken saltimbocca that was obscenely good…up until they got a new chef who made his own version of the dish – a tasty but much heavier version, not the lemony, sagey light offering I craved.

So I decided to recreate my favorite dish, and make it a bit more everyday, normal person, left-over friendly. Rather than wrapping the chicken breasts in prosciutto, I cut up the chicken and slice the prosciutto into thin strips so as to stretch it (that's some expensive ham, yo). I have made this many, many times, and it is consistently a crowd pleaser. Plus, it’s pretty easy…

I guess I should admit that I am not someone who believes in recipes. Trying to quantify the bits and pieces that go into this dish was a bit tricky, but let’s just remember that this ain’t rocket science, folks. Nor is it baking (much harder than rocket science). So, take these amounts as a loose guideline and adjust as you see fit.

2 large chicken breasts
16 ounces white button mushrooms
4-5 thin slices of prosciutto
1 cup chicken stock
1 cup white wine
Handful of sage leaves
Handful of Italian flat leaf parsley
1 Lemon
1 cup flour
Salt and pepper
Butter
Olive Oil
Pasta of your choice to serve over (penne works well)

Cut your chicken into bite-sized pieces and dredge them in flour seasoned with salt and pepper (if you have dried sage, throw a teaspoon or so in as well). Sauté the chicken in a Tablespoon of butter and a glug (yes, a glug) of olive oil. Remove chicken from pan and set aside (you don’t have to cook the chicken all the way through at this point – just get the pieces nice and golden brown).

Next, throw some mushrooms in the pan. Now, if you are cooking for your boss, your mother, or someone you are lusting after, I suggest you sauté the mushrooms one small handful at a time. That way they get nicely brown and crispy on the edges and look and taste amazing.

However, if it’s a Tuesday night and you’re hungry and you’ve already drank half the bottle of white wine that you bought to make this dish, just dump ‘em in. They won’t be miraculous, but they’ll still be good.

Once the mushrooms are browned, add the chicken back in along with the prosciutto and the sage leaves, both of which you have expertly cut into fine strips (but leave out a tablespoon of the sage to thrown in at the very end). Follow with the chicken stock, white wine, and the juice of half a lemon. Let it simmer while you put on a pot of water to cook your pasta, and enjoy the ingredient that just keeps on giving.

Side note: If you don’t have a vacuum wine-sealer thingamajig, go out and get one now. Go. Really, we’ll wait for you to come back. And don’t bother with that expensive rabbit thing – unnecessary. The cheap-o, white plastic thing with the rubber stoppers I bought years ago is still one of my most frequently used kitchen items, and works like gangbusters. Sure, I only have one of the six stoppers left, but I make do.

Once the sauce has simmered down to a nice spoon-coating consistency and your kitchen smells like Heaven (if Heaven is a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint) turn off the heat, sprinkle with your chopped up parsley, remaining sage, and the juice of the other half of your lemon. Serve over penne, with a glass of our aforementioned favorite ingredient alongside, and I promise that your mom will forget that you don’t call her as much as you should, your boss will give you the promotion that you thought would go to that ass-kissing Joan person, and the object of your affection will strip in your kitchen.

It’s really that good.