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Sometimes things just go a little off in your cooking.  Things happen that you did not expect, could not plan for, or had no reasonable way to ever anticipate.

Finding slivers of blue onions in your frittata was one of those things.

I HAVE BLUE ONIONS IN MY FRIDGE!!!

Have you cleaned it out since 2007?

…no…

Anyways, I was looking for a way to use up a lot of leftovers, and eggs are the best way to bind that all together.  I used to do omelets, but I’ve kind of soured on them.  Mostly because restaurants only use omelets nowadays as a vehicle to serve you everything but eggs.

(Now at IHOP, try our new Mega Works Omelet, with mushrooms, peppers, sausage, a 16 ounce strip steak, pasta marinara, General Tso’s chicken, waffle fries, and three types of cheese, wrapped in a 3 egg omelet, topped with a gallon of chili, nacho cheese sauce, and fried jalapeños!!)

Plus, with omelets, you have to worry about cooking your filling ingredients in one pan, then doing the eggs in another, then make sure you get the fillings in just at the right time, and make it all come out right because my range top has about a three second span between salmonella-laden raw eggs and ones that taste like burnt rubber.  Frittatas, all one pan, cooked in the oven where you don’t have to worry about the temperature.  Much better.

The good thing about frittatas is that, while you don’t want to overload it with massive amounts of stuff, pretty much anything is on the table as fillings/additions.

SO I CAN USE ANYTHING I HAVE LEFT AROUND?!?!

Ummm, yeah, I said that already.

LIKE CHEESE?

Yes.

PEPPERONI?

I don’t see why not.

THE DESICCATED REMAINS OF CHRIS CHRISTIE’S POLITICAL CAREER AND DIGNITY?

Ok, if you have those laying around, sure.

FILET OF HARAMBE?

Dude…too soon.

SO THERE’LL BE A TIME WHEN IT WON’T BE TOO SOON?

Probably not, but definitely not now.

OK, BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BLUE ONIONS?

Oh yeah.  So I decided to use red onions – the recipe called for leeks, but the ones I had didn’t look very healthy, and I had red onions around, so there.

And when I served it up, I didn’t even notice them, but after a couple bites I looked down at it and said, I specifically remember not putting anything blue in this, why are there blue things in my frittata?  And that’s when I realized, oops, my red onions had turned blue.  Well not totally blue, more a bluish-gray, or a gray-ish blue, depending on your perspective.

They tasted just fine, but if you’re one of those people that simply can’t eat blue things, use leeks, or a milder onion.

 

Short ribs are among the greatest things that the world has ever bestowed on us.  Right along with water, dogs, opposable thumbs, and the Foo Fighters.  They’re just these beautiful hunks of beef, held together by thin layers of fat that melt into the meat over many hours of simmering, which is usually done in the oven so you don’t have to hover over it and say WAIT IS THAT A SIMMER OR A BOIL LET ME TURN IT UP A SMIDGE OH MY GOD IT’S GOING TO BOIL OVER TURN IT DOWN WAIT IS THIS THING EVEN ON?!?!

I feel like I’ve made short ribs 8,000 times, every one of which was with red wine.  So I was intrigued by a recipe that called for dried chile peppers.  And it turned out extremely good, with a Mexican-ish taste because..well chile peppers are Mexican, so that makes all sorts of sense.

Making the marinade requires you to rehydrate the peppers, and then puree them in a blender.  This is a tricky step, because if your lid isn’t on 100% tightly…this is going to be a mess pretty quickly.  Have fun getting chile pepper stains off the walls/cabinets/ceiling.  Your grandkids will be talking about the great chile disaster of 2017.  Realtors will have to disclose this damage to anyone that ever wants to buy your house.

Usually I would sear the ribs before cooking them; this recipe did not call for that, and for some reason I think that actually works here.  Knock yourself out if you want to pre-sear them, no one will call you stupid for it.

YOU CALL ME STUPID EVERY DAY!!

That’s because you deserve it.

WHATEVER!  SO WHAT’S WITH THE FAT THING, AM I GOING TO GAIN LIKE 300 POUNDS FROM EATING THIS??

Unless you make 60 batches a day, no.

OK, I THINK I CAN KEEP MYSELF FROM DOING THAT!

As good as it is, make no mistake, this is not health food.

I’M NOT INTO HEALTH FOOD.  I AM INTO CHAMPAGNE!!

Very nicely done, I have no comeback.

(Side note: the introductory skit with the Village People, as well as Rupert Holmes’ tucked-in powder blue jacket…it’s well worth a view)

Most of the ribs you get will probably have a thick layer of fat on them.  Do not, under any circumstances, trim that off before cooking.  That’s going to help protect the meat and keep it moist.  After cooking, then trim it off, unless you’re a Neanderthal that just enjoys the taste of large globs of fat.  Like me.

My preference with short ribs is always to cook everything over two days.  Not straight through, but I cook everything on day one, separate the ribs from the sauce, refrigerate them, and warm them up the next day.  Why, you ask?  Because overnight, the fat will rise to the top of the sauce and solidify, and it will be the largest hunk of fat that you have ever seen.  Like, at least 1/4 inch thick.  And you will be in shock at the amount of fat in front of your eyes.  And you will remove it from the top of the sauce, and take heart in the fact that your entire family would have died of a heart attack had you not undertaken this courageous act, and instead will enjoy a hearty, delicious, and merely somewhat unhealthy meal.

Now, once you remove the gargantuan layer of fat from it, you’ll notice that the sauce has a very jello-like consistency.  And you’ll say, I made sauce, not fucking beef jello, what the hell??  Don’t worry, you’ve done everything just right.  The gelatin texture comes from the collagen in the bones, which is a good thing.  Why is it a good thing?  Fuck, what am I made of, Googles?  Anyways, when you reheat it, the sauce will return to liquid, so all will be well.

 

WHAT’RE WE MAKING TODAY??

Three cup chicken!

WAIT, YOU’RE EXPECTING ME TO EAT THREE CUPS OF CHICKEN?  THAT’S A LOT, EVEN FOR A MANLY MAN LIKE ME, MUCH LESS YOU, YOU LITTLE WUSSY!!

Dude, chill out, I’m not asking you to go on a pale protein binge.  It’s an old Chinese dish.

OOH, LOOK AT YOU, BEING ALL HISTORICAL!  I’LL BET YOU’RE GOING TO TEACH ME A HISTORY LESSON, AREN’T YOU, PROFESSOR SUTHERLAND VON SCHTUPPENSCHTEIN??!!  PLEASE, REGAL ME WITH YOUR KNOWLEDGE!

First of all, it’s Dr. Von Schtuppenschtein, jackass.

Second, three cup chicken is an ancient dish that originated in the Heilongjiang province of China, back in the 16th century.  The governor, Chen Dao Huang, had a chicken dish that he ordered his soldiers to eat before every battle with invading Mongols.  The dish was served in three separate cups: one to represent the responsibility to defend the decisions of past generations, one to represent the duty to serve the present generation and preserve their way of life, and one to represent the vision of building a better civilization for future generations.

OK, THAT’S PRETTY DEEP, YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION!

…

…

WELL???

Nah, I’m just fucking with you, it’s a recipe I got from the New York Times, it’s not even Chinese, it’s Taiwanese.

I HATE YOU.

The feeling is mutual.

Setting aside the fake history, this is a pretty solid, straight-forward Asian chicken dish.  Even the most inexperienced of cooks can make this one.

SWEET, I MIGHT TAKE A SHOT AT MAKING IT THEN!

Have they reconnected the gas in your house after you almost burnt it down boiling water?

NEVER MIND, I’LL JUST READ THE REST AND EAT SOME WHEAT THINS.

Good call.

A couple quick notes on the recipe.  It calls for rice wine and dried peppers.  Rice wine isn’t easy to find; if you can, great.  If not, mirin works just fine, and is a lot easier to find.  Dried red peppers, it’s hard to find a bag with less than 19,000 peppers, all of which will weigh 0.8 ounces.  Get the bag, if you keep them in a Ziploc bag, they will keep forever.

Second, if you have a wok, fantastic, great for you.  If you do, once you’re done sautéing the aromatics, you can push them up to the side before you start cooking the chicken.  If you don’t, just use a sauté pan, and move them to a side plate before you cook the chicken.

I had everything planned out for a chill evening, and making a pretty basic soup and sandwich dinner that my lady and I could have during the national championship game.  And I wanted to make Greek Lemon Chicken Soup, which was one that we both loved that the restaurant in our old work building used to make.

(we also used to love this restaurant because their specials board had some…interesting…ways to name their soups and specials)

(trust me, this was about the 37th worst spelling offense they committed)

Game time was 7:15.  Here’s the timeline of how the next few hours went:

4:00 – “Ok, take the dog out for a walk, then come back and start making the soup.  No problem.”

4:15 (while on walk) – “Crap, forgot to pick up my prescription at Walgreen’s, ok go get it now, still plenty of time to make the soup.”

4:30 – “Of course the 3 mile-long train decides that now would be a good time to run through the middle of Houston.”

4:45 – “What do you mean my insurance card has expired?!?!”

5:00 (home) – “Ok, no big deal, still plenty of time to make the soup, just dump everything in the pot and let’s get started.”

5:15 (grabbing Thermapen and taking the temperature of the broth) – “When the fuck is this thing going to start boiling??”

5:30 – “About fucking time!!”

Now that it’s finally reached a boiling point, I reduce it to a simmer for an hour, which is basically me turning the temperature down to a where the soup barely simmers, then turning the knob 1/300ths of an inch higher and then watching the water nearly boil over, then turning it back said 1/300ths of an inch, and repeating the process for the next 60 minutes.

6:30 (removing chicken and vegetables from the pot) – “Excellent, now I just reduce the broth by half, which will only take half an hour, because that’s what the recipe says and the recipe is NEVER EVER EVER WRONG!!”

I go off and relax for a bit, because I know that in 30 minutes the broth will be reduced by half and will be completely perfect.

So I go to check on the broth at 7:00, and it has barely reduced, and is practically mocking me and saying “Oh reeeeally, would you like me to reduce for you on command?  What am I, your little song and dance man, that exists merely to entertain you at your whim?  I DON’T THINK SO!!!”

(It’s after I typed that last quotation mark that I realized that I really do need my meds.)

7:15 -kickoff time, and the soup is still mocking me.

7:30 –

My lady: “Yeah, I think I’m just going to make a sandwich.”

Me (trying to distract from the soup inadequacy): “Hey, I was going to make a panini, would you like me to make you one, it’s far superior to a regular sandwich?!”

ML: “No, I’m good, I’m just hungry.”

7:45 – starting to get a little movement.

8:00 – “I hope the soup gets done soon so you can watch this game with me.”

8:15 – “Finally!”

By the time everything was finally done, I only missed the entire first quarter of the game. So, lesson learned: never make something new on game day.

You’re going to need a really big stock pot to make this, I would say at least 8 quarts.  You can probably go smaller if you can find a 3 pound chicken, as the recipe suggests, but good luck finding a non-broth injected non-steroid loaded 5 pound megabird.

Also, never salt your broth until it’s finished cooking.  Since it reduces down and concentrates in 30 minutes or 3 hours or whatever, a broth that is perfectly seasoned at the beginning is going to be way too salty when it’s finished.  Just chill out and let it go, and season everything at the end, and everyone will be happy…

…except for you, because you just spent half your day screaming at the pot to say COME ON ALREADY FINISH UP I GOT OTHER THINGS TO DO!!!

 

I had plans to do baking Wednesday morning.  Chief among the plans was a banana bread, because banana bread is delicious, and it makes you feel like a kid again and reminds you of your childhood.  But only the good parts, not the times like when you got put in as a goalie in 1st grade and the coach forgot to tell you that you can use your hands and you let in 11 goals before they understood that they knew nothing about soccer beyond what was in the coaching instruction book and screaming “Pele!  Pele!” meant nothing to you.

Not that that ever happened to me.  But if it did, this bread would not evoke those feelings.

So, even though it was supposed to cook for 60 minutes, I set the time for 45 minutes, because I had other stuff going, and I knew that I would just remember, oh yeah, get to the bread 15 minutes after the timer went off.

And then, 10 minutes before it was supposed to be done, I got a call from my soon-to-be employer that they were going to make me an offer.  And I got all giddy, in the way that someone that has gone 1,000 too many emails that are showing me the “75 new jobs in my area that you haven’t seen, even though 74 of these were in the last email we sent you, but Uber needs a driver so that’s totally up your alley” would be.

So I spent 10 or so minutes talking with them, getting the offer together, saying yes, next steps, all that happy crap.  And then I spent the next couple minutes doing a happy dance, not only because I have a job, but I can spend the new two weeks watching soccer and Netflix and 80’s wrestling on Youtube guilt free.

And then I remembered the bread.  And then I remembered that our oven runs hot.

And then…

Crap.

So I spent the next 15 minutes letting it sit, hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad on the sides or bottom.

They weren’t great either.

Cutting it in half, hoping there’s something salvageable…

That’s not bad!  Actually, it’s quite good!  Aside from the crunchy exterior, this is a pretty moist and tasty bread.

I have cooked this before and the crust has come out well and the insides have been every bit as good.  And I would prove it by baking a second one, but, again, guilt-free laziness for the next two weeks.

For this recipe, the bananas need to be super ripe.  Like they need to be just on their last day of being good, and they’re looking at you and begging with their last breath to not let their lives go for nothing.  Beyond that, it’s pretty forgiving, so long as you start checking it around 45-50 minutes you’ll be fine.

Also, the original recipe calls for walnuts to be added.  I didn’t add them, but feel free to add 1/2 cup if you’d like, or get creative with it.  Chocolate chips?  Sure!  Peanut butter chips?  Even better!  Crispy bacon bits? Why not?!  Wasabi peas?  Ummm, no judging, but I’m judging you as having shitty taste.

 

WHOA THERE, FANCY BOY!!  DON’T GO THROWING ALL THOSE FRENCH WORDS AT US!  WHAT’S THIS BRAISED THING??

It’s just a cooking techn…

IS THAT FRENCH FOR POOP??  YOU’RE COOKING POOP AGAIN!!!

Good lord, there is no poop involved!

Braising is just cooking meat in liquid that only partially covers it.

OH!  SO LIKE BUGS BUNNY IN THE HOT TUB??

Ummm…sure, exactly.

You usually do this with big fatty hunks of beef – and we will do that at some point, because it is fucking amazing.  And while fish doesn’t have the same amount of fat in it, braising it is still…

This is not a long braise, like you would do with a brisket, so you do need to stay on top of it and not stray too far.  I cooked it with cod fillets, but you could do it with salmon, or any other firm fleshed fish.

Also, the recipe calls for you to strain the braising liquid.  The dish will not be ruined if you decide not to – I didn’t because I am lazy, and it tasted perfectly good, and the vegetables don’t get cooked enough to get seriously mushy.