I’m not crazy. There is an actually practical reason to soak your potatoes in a beer brine before they hit the grill. Potatoes are mostly water, held in by the starch. Using the water extracting powder of salt you can help remove the water and give your potatoes a crispier outside with a creamy middle while cooking.
And let’s talk about that cooking. For well over a year I’ve been taunting you with grill recipes, like grilled Beer & Buttermilk Sriracha Chicken, and Beer Marinated Steak with Porter Gorgonzola Butter, but what if you don’t have a grill? First, you should buy one, but if you can’t swing it, a grill pan is a great alternative. I went nearly two years without a grill and I used my grill pan weekly as a substitute.
Because no matter what life throws your way, there is something about grilled food and cold beer that makes it seem like all is right in the world again.
In a large bowl stir together the salt and beer. Add the potato rounds and add enough water until potatoes are fully covered.
Chill for at least 2 hours and up to 12.
Remove from the brine and allow to dry completely on a stack of paper towels.
Add the potatoes to a bowl or baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with spices, toss until well coated.
Preheat the grill (or a grill pan) to medium high.
Place the potatoes on the grill (working in batches if necessary), until grill marks appear, about 3 minutes. Flip and continue to cook until fork tender, about 3 additional minutes.
When you’re a kid, there are monsters in the closet. Monsters that terrify you, chill your blood and ice your bones. You don’t know they aren’t real, because to you they exist in a way that’s more real than death and taxes.
When we grow up the monsters don’t leave our lives, they just change shape. They come in scarier, bigger forms that exist outside our closets. Conversations that need to be had, admissions that need to see light, relationships that need to end. And what we often can’t see is that the monster is bigger when it’s in the dark, it can only control us if it stays hidden. Once we unleash the beast, and face his teeth it’s often that he’s much smaller than we would have thought. More often than not, his power isn’t what we’d imagined.
And now we have space for all those things the monster would have eaten up. I’ve faced some recently. I’ve found courage. Not without tears, not without consequence, but in a way that feels like I am finally able to figure out what I was really scared of all along.
In a bowl of a stand mixer beat the butter and sugar until well combined. While the mixer is running add the eggs, one at a time, scraping the bottom of the bowl between additions.
Add the canola oil, sour cream, and vanilla extract, beat until well combined.
In a medium bowl sift together both kinds of flour, baking powder, and salt.
In a small bowl add the beer and lemon juice.
Alternating between the dry ingredients and the beer, slowly add both to the mixer, a little at a time until all ingredients are just combined.
Add the strawberries, stir until incorporated.
Grease and flour two large (1.5 qt) loaf pans.
Divide batter evenly between pans.
Bake at 350 until golden brown and top springs back when lightly touched, about 28-32 minutes.
Remove from oven, allow to cool for about ten minutes.
In a small bowl stir together the hot water and ¼ cup sugar until the sugar has dissolved. If the sugar doesn’t dissolve, microwave for 20 seconds. Stir in the lemon juice.
Poke a dozen small holes in each loaf with a long wooden skewer. Drizzle the warm lemon simple syrup over both loafs (you can also brush on with a pastry brush).
Allow to sit in the pans until cooled, about 2 hours. Remove from pans and refrigerated.
Stir together all icing ingredients. Pour over cakes, chill until ready to serve.
I’ve decided that the grill is officially open. Regardless of the weather, regardless of the time constraints, regardless of the lack of Meats on Sticks occasions in my near future. The grill needs to be open. Maybe it’s the catastrophic levels of stress in my life right now, maybe it’s my severe vitamin D deficiency since leaving Southern California, or maybe the grill should never be closed at all.
There’s a therapeutic quality to the first grilled food of the season. That delicious char you’d almost forgotten about. Cooking in the great wide open with sun on your face, beer in one hand, ridiculously oversized tongs in the other. And the realization that winter has passed. It all adds up to one of the most satisfying meals of the year.
Although I am considering not closing the grill at all next winter, but I’ll report back to you once the snow hits.
1 ½tspsweet smoked paprikaor 1 tsp sweet and ½ tsp smoked paprika
2tbstomato paste
2tspkosher salt
1teaspoonfreshly ground black pepper
4large garlic clovesgrated with a microplane
2 1/4poundsskinless boneless chickenthighs or breast, cut into cubes
vegetable oil for the grill
2tbschopped fresh parsley
Instructions
In a large bowl stir together the yogurt, beer, red pepper, paprika, tomato paste, salt, pepper, and garlic. Add the chicken cubes, stir until fully submerged and coated. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to 24.
Preheat grill to medium high.
Remove chicken from marinate and thread onto metal skewers (or presoaked wood skewers), discard marinade.
Brush the grill with oil to prevent sticking.
Grill the chicken skewers on each side until cooked through, about 5 minutes per side.
Sprinkle with chopped parsley before serving, if desired.
Everyone wants to feel like they have things figured out. That they have everything in it’s designated box. You’e made decisions, said decisions help you navigate the world.
And every once in a while that comfortable social constructionists gets a bit rocked. You hate country music but you find yourself sinfully signing along to Devil Went Down to Georgia and really enjoying yourself. And you watch the entire last half of Pitch Perfect when it comes on HBO and will never admit that you YouTubed the last performance three times the next days.
Which is the same reason you barely glance at the Vegetarian section of the menu at resturants. Because you’ve decided that you like meat, and that section doesn’t apply to you. And then an ice cream comes alone and it’s better than any other chocolate ice cream you’ve had and it’s vegan. Which makes you wonder about those line dancing bars you’ve avoided and the American cars you never test drove.
Because it’s just plants and beer and it’s better than the "regular" ice cream your usually drawn to. And that makes you want to explore the other things that just aren’t you. Which may be a good thing, but they don’t always end this well.
Chocolate Stout and Toasted Coconut Ice Cream (vegan)
In a large sauce pan over medium high heat add the coconut milk, sugar, stout, and cocoa powder. Bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, about 8 minutes.
Chill for at least 2 hours or until cold to the touch.
Preheat oven to 350.
Add coconut flakes to a baking sheet. Bake for 3 minutes, stir and continue to bake until golden brown, about 3 additional minutes.
Churn in ice cream maker according to manufactures specifications until a soft serve consistency, about 15 minutes.
Add to an air tight container, stir in the coconut flakes.
Chill until firm, at least 2 hours.
*While sugar is inherently vegan, some companies use processes using animal bones. If you’re concerned about it, look for a company that produces vegan sugar, like the Whole Foods 365 brand.
Beer is similar, to make sure the stout you choose is vegan check Barnivoire to make sure.
When I was a kid I thought you grew up, picked a life and that’s were you sat. You stayed in this grown-up place, and that was it. You’d found your grown-up life and you were done.
But my grown-up life seems to go through a comprehensive metamorphosis every few years. New city, new job, new people. For a natural-born gypsy with the soul of a wanderer, this isn’t a bad thing. Experiences are satisfying and change can be cleansing.
But then there are times when it seems catastrophically difficult, even when it’s necessary. Like cleaning out road rash so the wounds of a bike crash will heal. Sometimes it’s the cleaning that hurts more than the crash. But it’s part of the process, part of the evolution, part of necessity of growth that keeps us from the stagnation that will kill our souls.
Growth, change, healing, just because it hurts doesn’t mean it isn’t the right path. Keep moving forward, keep breathing, know that it isn’t selfish to fight for your own happiness. Know that it’s hard because it’s worth it.
These are the days I bake. The days I cover fruit in sugar. The days I open a beer, grab a friend and take stock of the things I’m truly grateful for. Because no matter what is on the the hard list, the good list can always be longer.
Lime Sugared Blackberry and Coconut Pale Ale Pastry Cream Tart
Add ¾ cups of flour, salt and sugar to a food processor, pulse to combine. Add the butter and egg yolk, process until well combined and dough gathers around the blade.
Add the remaining flour and pulse 6-8 times or until all the flour has been coated.
Transfer to a bowl. Using a rubber spatula, stir in the beer until completely incorporated into the dough (don’t add the beer in the food processor or your dough will turn into a cracker). Dough will be very soft.
Lay a long sheets of plastic wrap on a flat surface.
Place the dough onto the plastic wrap, form into flat disks.
Wrap disk tightly in plastic wrap, chill for 1 hour and up to 3 days.
Preheat the oven to 350.
Roll the tart dough into an even circle on a lightly floured surface. Line a tart pan with the crust. Prick bottom of the tart with a fork several times, adding pie weights if desired.
Bake at 350 until lightly golden brown, about 15-18 minutes. Allow to cool.
In a sauce pan off heat add the milk, cream, coconut milk, vanilla, egg yolks, Saison, sugar and cornstarch, whisk until well combined. Add to medium heat, whisk until thickened, about 10 minutes.
Pour pastry cream into crust. Chill until set and cooled, about 3 hours.
Add the sugar and lime zest to a food processor, process until all the lime oils and sugars have been well combined, about 3 minutes (this can be done days or even weeks in advance, keep in an air tight container until ready to use.)
Just prior to serving, add the blackberries to a bowl, pour the sugar over the berries, toss until well well coated.
I was in a port town in Greece, waiting for a boat to take me back to Italy, when I decided to spend the last bit of money I had with me on Baklava. This was the moment I realized how important food had become to me. I had just spent my last year of college working three jobs in order to save enough money to buy a plane ticket to Europe and hope that my Europe On A Shoestring guide book would get me through the trip with enough money leftover to make my first student loan payment when I got home. Like any great obsession, there is very little choice in the matter. It either grabs you or it doesn’t, and it often isn’t until it’s too late that you see that the shark has your leg.
A side effect of this affliction is an extraordinary fixations that it creates. Sometimes it’s a dish. Sometimes it’s an ingredient. Sometimes its a cooking method.
I have in no way been saved from these fixations. It’s gnocchi, and goat cheese, and roasted chicken, and the perfect dinner rolls, and caramel, and so many more.
I started making caramel a few years ago, it’s simple. You just need a candy thermometer and the patience not to walk away, since that will always be the moment the sugar burns. Caramel has become an obsession, what I can put in it, or on it, or with it, or how many times I can make it during Christmas before people start to roll their eyes.
Don’t leave me alone with sugar and a pot. You never know what you’ll come back too, but it’ll probably be a dark amber color and taste like beer.
In the bowl of a stand mixer with a whisk attachment add the butter and brown sugar, beat on high until well combined.
Add the egg, yolk and vanilla extra, mix until well combined, light and fluffy.
Add 2 tablespoons stout, stir until combined.
Sprinkle the flour and salt over the butter mixture, stir until combined.
Spread evenly into a greased 8X8 baking pan.
Bake at 350 for 22-25 minutes or until the top is golden brown. Allow to cool completely.
In a pot over high heat add the butter, brown sugar, white sugar, corn syrup, heavy cream and ¼ cup stout. Stir until the butter has melted and the sugar has dissolved.
Allow to boil until a dark caramel color and reached 248 degrees on a candy thermometer, about 8 minutes. Allow to cool for ten minutes.
Pour over the blondies layer, chill until set, about 3 hours.
A few days ago I was given word that I’m a finalist for a Saveur award for BEST Original Recipes. Best on the entire internet and in the entire world. Out of the millions of food blogs out there and out of the 30,000 they considered, they chose The Beeroness as one of the six best.
I’d love to tell you that I feel justified, or vindicated. But really, I feel humbled. I feel honored. I even feel a little overwhelmed.
I want you to like what I’m doing. I want you to make my recipes for your family, I want them to become your recipes, for these recipes to be a great excuse to explore craft beer. But I never really needed it to be more than that, more than just me and you making some beer food and sharing it over a few pints.
And the Saveur goes and makes me want this too. I want to win it, for us, for the love of beer food.
Heat the chicken broth, water and beer in a pot over medium heat. Add the polenta and cook over a low simmer, stirring occasionally, until creamy. About 30 minutes. Stir in the butter and cheese, add salt and pepper to taste.
While the polenta is cooking, make the shrimp.
In a small bowl stir together the chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, red chili flavors, smoked paprika and salt, set aside.
Melt the 2 tablespoons of butter in a skillet over medium high heat. Add the garlic and stir until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the beer.
Add the shrimp, sprinkle with seasonings.
Cook the shrimp until pink, remove from heat.
In a small bowl stir together the crema and lime.
Plate the polenta, top with shrimp and avocado slices, drizzle with crema.
I use Bob’s Red Mill Polenta (affiliate link), it’s non-GMO, organic, very consistent and really high quality.
There is one thing I can’t stop doing every time I travel.
And not just when I get to leave the country, but even when I just leave the state. I just need to wander around a market. A locals only place, stocked with whatever people who live in the neighboring streets like to eat. Once while in Costa Rica, in a small and run down town, I found myself in a small market that had just lost all power.
"It happens," the shop owner told me, "We just stay open, hope the light from the door can reach to the back." I made a mental note not to buy any thing perishable, but did leave with 3 bags of coffee and an unidentifiably spice that I later used on roasted vegetables.
Sometimes these little adventures just bring me back to an ingredient that I forgot that I loved. My recent trip to a local market in a neighborhood heavily populated with Italian imigrants lead me to buy a bag of farro. I love this little grain, much more than rice, much more than quinoa and I can’t understand why it isn’t used more often. It doesn’t get mushy the way that rice can, it has a nice almost chewy texture, tons of those vitamins/protein/ health benefits that people seem to like, and much more flavor than other trendy grains.
Plus it cooks up really well with beer. Which means it wins.
Servings 4entre sized portions, 8 side dish portions
Ingredients
For the Risotto:
2cups15 wt oz faro
6cupslow sodium chickenor vegetable broth
3tbsolive oil
½white onionchopped
3clovesgarlicminced
3tbsunsalted butterdivided
1cupplus ¼ cup brown ale, divided
¼cupheavy cream
2wt ozabout ¾ cup fresh grated parmesan cheese
For the Mushrooms:
8wt oz assorted wild mushrooms
3tbsolive oil
½tspsea salt
1/2tsppepper
Instructions
Add farro to a large bowl. Cover with luke warm water, let stand for 30 minutes to 1 hour. Drain well.
Preheat oven to 425. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Add the mushrooms, drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper. Toss until well coated. Roast for 15 minutes, stir and roast for an additional ten minutes. Drain the liquid off the mushrooms, set mushrooms aside.
Place the chicken broth in a saucepan and bring to a low simmer, keeping to warm, but not boiling.
In a separate pot, heat the 3 tbs olive oil over medium heat. Add the onions and cook until softened, but don’t allow to brown. Add the garlic and cook until you can smell it, about 20 seconds
Stir in the faro and 3 tablespoons butter, cooking until the farro is completely coated with butter and it smells slightly nutty, don’t allow to brown. About 2 minutes.
Add 1 cup of the brown ale and cook until the pan begins to dry, stirring frequently. About 6 minutes.
Add about ½ cup of broth into the farro. Stir frequently until the farro is almost dry, and then add another ½ cup and repeat until the farro is cooked. This process should take about 30 minutes. Don’t leave the risotto while it’s cooking, the farro on the bottom of the pan burns easily. (if you run out of broth, just use hot water the same way you would broth)
Once your risotto is cooked through (taste it to verify that the farro is cooked and not crunchy), turn heat to low and add the cheese, cream, remaining 3 tablespoons butter and ¼ cup brown ale and salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the roasted mushrooms just prior to serving.
A few years ago I’d had this unfortunate idea that a red eye from LAX to JFK was a great plan. I boarded a plane around 10pm in Los Angeles, alongside a 747 full of business travelers headed for jittery East Coast morning meetings.
It wasn’t so much that I irrationally figured that I could sleep on the plane, but I illogically decided that if I don’t really sleep well anyway, I might was well be not sleeping well on an airplane. When I arrived in New York 6 hours plus time change later, I hadn’t slept for a second. Although the decision to watch The Lovely Bones just after take off probably contributed to my lack of drowsiness.
By the time a subway ride and then a cab deposited me in Chelsea I was tired to catastrophic levels. Which, in the land of most girls means borderline weepy and slightly irrational. Finding out my hotel wasn’t ready for check in and realizing that my only option for sleep was cuddling up with the homeless man near the stairwell, I decided coffee was a necessity. And by necessity I quite literally mean as a route to avoid either crying hysterically or falling asleep on top of a man who smells like hot dogs and old cheese.
I stumbled into a coffee shop and begged for coffee. "Anything else?" The husky Brooklyn dweller spat at me from behind the counter.
"Umm, I…need…uh…the…" I did manage to point at a crumb cake.
"You want duh cake? Fuh breakfast?" Thank god it was just judgmental an rhetorical, he didn’t expect and answer and I couldn’t have given an intelligible one. He thrust it towards me with the coffee. I sat down at the counter, my bag still over my shoulder and started to devour it all. He smiled, one hand on his apron covered hip, "Not bad, huh?"
Stir together 1 ¼ cups flour, granulated sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg, beer, vanilla and vegetable oil. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, batter will be thick.
Add batter to muffin tins, about ½ way full.
Combine the remaining 1 ¼ cups flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a bowl. Drizzle with melted butter, stir together until crumbs form.
Add the crumbs onto the top of the muffin batter until cups are slightly mounded.
Bake at 325 for 32-36 minutes or until the top crumbs have just started to turn golden brown. Allow to cool to room temperature, chill until ready to serve. Dust with confectioners sugar prior to serving.
When you write a cookbook, you fall in love with some of the recipe. You don’t love them all the same, you don’t even remember them all the same. Recipes aren’t like children, you’re completely allowed to have favorites.
When I wrote The Craft Beer Cookbook(affiliate link), there were a few recipes I immediately feel love with, like Hefeweizen Brioche Pull Apart Bread (page 82), and the Porter Osso Buco (page129), and Amber Ale Carrot Cake with Mascarpone & Beer Spiked Cream Cheese Frosting (page 179) and a few I added because I was already in love with them, like the Beer Pecan Cinnamon Rolls (SO GOOD! page 26) and this soup.
This was a soup that I’d been making for years, with and without beer. Gleefully sprinkling the bowls with two of my culinary guilty pelasures: goat cheese and pomegranate seeds. Adding in the hop bitterness of an Irish red ale gave a great balance to the creamy decadence.
Now that we are around the corner from Saint Patricks day, I’m sharing this recipe with you. It’s a new way to celebrate the Irish, and a vegetarian friendly one at that (if that’s your thing). After all, corned beef isn’t even a tradition in Ireland. But beer always is.
Irish Red Ale Butternut Squash Soup with Goat Cheese and Pomegranate
Cut the squash down the middle lengthwise, scoop out and discard the seeds. Place cut side up on a baking sheet, drizzle with 2 tbs olive oil.
Rub most of the white papery skin off the garlic head. Cut the tip off the head of garlic, exposing the cloves. Place garlic on a small square of aluminum foil. Drizzle with 1 tbs olive oil, fold aluminum foil up over the garlic to form a tight packet. Place garlic on baking sheet with the squash.
Place baking sheet in the oven for 30 minutes. Remove the garlic and allow to cool. Continue to roast the squash until fork tender, about an addition 20-30 minutes (total of about 1 hour). Remove from oven and allow to cool enough to handle. Gently scoop out the flesh (should be between 4 and 4 1/2 cups).
In a pot over medium heat, add the remaining 3 tbs olive oil and the shallots. Allow to cook, stirring occasionally, until the shallots have caramelized, about 15 to 20 minutes (do not cook at too high heat or the shallots will burn). Add the broth and the beer and bring to a gentle simmer. Add the roasted squash, add the soft garlic cloves (discard the rest of the head) and stir until well combined.
Use an immersion blender to puree until smooth (you can also work in batches to puree in a food processor or blender). Add the salt, pepper, turmeric, cayenne and cream, allow to simmer for 10 minutes.
Ladle into serving bowls, garnish with goat cheese and pomegranate.
I told you last year that I wouldn’t further assault you with tales of my trip to Ireland for Saint Patrick’s day, until it was close to Saint Patrick’s Day.
But here we are, just a week away. So I’ll force another story of Ireland down your throat. But I made you some beer marshmallows so I hope we can call it even.
The night after I arrived in Dublin, still jet-lagged and a bit shaky, I found myself at a table in the back of an old Irish pub with a couple of Irish farmers in their early twenties. A scrawny, fair-haired, Irish boy, who admitted that he’d never left the mossy soil of Mother Ireland, asked me about life in the famed Los Angeles. "So…you’ve, like, met famous people. Like movie stars? and people in bands?"
I said that I had. Just part of living in LA and having friends who work in music. It wasn’t a big deal. His eyes widened, he bought the next round and pressed me for details, "WHO HAVE YOU MET?!"
I was felt slightly pushed back and delved into the database of my past celebrity meetings. I wasn’t sure who he’d like to hear about so I started to go with my favorites, "Ummm. I met James Brown once. He told me I was pretty and did a spin for me."
He was confused. "Who’s that? Who else have you met? Do you know Madonna"
"No. But I did go to Elton Johns birthday party. It was small, only a handful of people but I was too nervous to talk to him. But I did spend the night talking with-"
"Let me cut to the chase." He turned serious, he wanted to get right to the information he was looking for, "I want to know if you’ve met THE GUY."
I was blank. Who was the GUY? Which guy?
"You know!" The dozen Guinnesses he’d had since he’d left the sheep farm were starting to settle into his demeanor.
"I really don’t know. Who’s THE GUY in Hollywood?" I was more curious than confused.
Exasperated he finally spit it out, "EDDIE MURPHY!"
"Oh. No." If I’d had one million guesses I wouldn’t have pulled that name, "I haven’t met him."
"That’s too bad. But you know, he lives in LA. So, you might. Right? At some point, like at Starbucks or something?"
"Ummm, yeah. I guess there’s still hope."
But, sadly I did leave LA never having met Eddie Murphy. So unless he’s a Seahawks fan, we may never meet. But I do suspect that if he’s a beer drinker, he might like beer marshmallows. With stout chocolate sauce. And if he doesn’t, then it’s probably a good thing we never met.
Grease a 9x13 baking pan, sprinkle with powdered sugar until well coated, set aside.
In the bowl of a stand mixer add ½ cup cold flat beer. Sprinkle with gelatin. Allow to stand while the sugar is being prepared.
In a large saucepan (mixture will bubble up considerably) over medium heat, add the remaining ½ cup beer, sugar and corn syrup. Stir until the sugar has dissolved.
Raise heat to high and allow to boil until the mixture reads 240F on a candy thermometer (about 6-8 minutes).
Once the temperature has been reached, turn off heat.
Turn the mixer on low and slowly pour the hot sugar mixture into the gelatin. Once all the sugar has been added turn the mixer on high until light and fluffy and tripled in volume, about 6 minutes.
While the mixer is running, prepare the egg whites. Add the egg whites to a bowl with the salt. Beat on high with a hand mixer until stiff peaks form.
Gently fold the egg whites and vanilla extract into the stand mixer ingredients until just combined.
Pour the marshmallows into the prepared pan. Sprinkle with powdered sugar. Allow to set at room temperature until set, about 2 hours. Remove from pan, cut into squares.
To make the chocolate sauce, add all chocolate sauce ingredients to a microwave safe bowl. Microwave on high for 30 seconds, stir and repeat until melted.
Dip the marshmallows into the chocolate, remove with a fork, set on wax paper until set. Or just pour it on in a ridiculous but photogenic stream to make a delicious mess.
Notes
*The beer in these marshmallows can be very present. Pick a beer you like. Try to avoid really high hop beers, they can get really bitter. If you want a low beer flavor, pick a pilsner, pale lager, or wheat beer. You can also use a malty belgian or a brown ale. If you LOVE hops, you can use an IPA but take note that the beer bitterness will be very present.
No matter how often you move, there are things that you forget. Every time. You forget that you won’t know which drawer to put Sharpie markers and batteries in (they always end up in the same drawer), you’ll turn to grab the knife from where is "used to be," you won’t know where the Target is, or where to take your dry cleaning, or where to buy the best prosciutto and you can forget about that guy who offered to sharpen your knives for free if you bring him cookies THAT guy doesn’t exist in your new land.
I have a gypsy soul, I’ve never missed my own bed, I don’t have the home sick gene, I’m never nervous about new roads or new words or new food. I look forward to building a new database of people and place. But there is a learning curve with a new place. Things I didn’t know that I didn’t know. I’ve had to adapt to a new climate, one that was not 80 degrees on Christmas, and involves a near wardrobe change when I need to run out to the car to grab the beer I left in the back.
But the upside is that beer would have been overly warm in my old land, in this place, it was the perfect 43 degrees and ready to drink.
Now I just need to find a guy to trade knife sharpening for baked goods and I’ll be half way there.
Molasses Stout Glazed Salmon with Herb IPA Mashed Potatoes
Add the potatoes to a pot of lightly salted boiling water. Allow to boil until fork tender. Drain and return to pot.
Add the remaining potato ingredients, stir and mash with a potato masher until well combined.
To Make The Salmon:
Preheat oven broiler.
Add the oil to a pot over medium high heat until hot but not smoking.
Add the shallots, cook until softened and slightly browned, about 3 minutes.
Add the soy, stout, molasses, smoked paprika,onion powder and chili powder. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally until slightly thickened, about 6 minutes.
Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Spray lightly with cooking spray (or drizzle with vegetable oil.
Place salmon on the foil, skin side down.
Brush liberally with glaze.
Broil for 3 minutes, re-brush with glaze, and place under the broiler for 3 more minutes. Repeat (re-brushing and broiling) until the salmon is cooked through and flakes easily with a fork.
From LA to Seattle, up Highway 1. Past fat lazy seals, miles of winding coastlines, epic Redwoods, and into an unusually sunny Seattle. Although the sun has now given way to the typical rain, it’s somehow comforting.
Although figuring out how to wield a camera in low light has been a bit challenging.
But the food isn’t. This part of the word has gorgeous produce, fantastic seafood, incredible beer. I’m starting to get familiar with the Northwest breweries and the beautiful beer that I’m now so close to. If you know of a local brewery I should go to, please, I’m all ears.
As I unpack the boxes, rely heavily on my navigation to get around, figure out what local stations to set my car radio to, and try to amend my ill-equipped wardrobe (warm socks?? I need new socks?), I’m excited to be here. My Gypsy Soul gets to wander a new city.
Stout Soaked Mushrooms and Herbed Goat Cheese Crostinis
1wt oz1 ½ cups assorted dried mushrooms (I used Porcini, Shiitake & Chanterelle)
12ouncesstout beer
1tbsolive oil
2tbsunsalted butter
¼cupchopped shallots
½tspkosher or sea salt
½tspblack pepper
1baguettesourdough or French
4ounceschevre goat cheesesoftened
1tspchopped fresh thyme
1tspchopped fresh sage
1tspchopped fresh rosemary
Instructions
Put the mushrooms in a small bowl or jar. Cover with the stout beer. Leave at room temperature for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours or until the mushrooms are soft and have reconstituted.
Drain the mushrooms and rinse well to remove any residual grit.
Slice the mushrooms into thin slices (unless mushrooms were pre sliced).
In a pan over medium high heat melt the butter with the olive oil.
Add the shallots and cook until softened and starting to brown, about 5 minutes.
Add the mushrooms to the pan, sprinkle with salt and pepper, cook until most of the oil and butter has been absorbed, about 5 minutes.
Preheat the boiler on the oven.
Slice the baguette into 18-24 slices.
Place the slices on a baking sheet. Place until the broiler until golden brown, about 2 minutes, flip over and place under the broiler until golden brown the opposite side.
In a small bowl stir together the goat cheese, thyme, sage and rosemary.
Spread each slice with goat cheese, top with mushrooms.
I started this adventure masked as a blog just over two years ago. I decided when I first hit publish that this wasn’t a "let’s see how this goes" endeavor. This is was a full force, every piece of my life, both feet, all chips on the table undertaking. I was all in.
My stack of "I Need To Figure This Stuff Out" was much larger than my "I’ve Got This" pile and the more I fought towards the goals I set, the larger that first stack got. Lucky for me, my reaction to "You can’t do that" has always been, "You watch me." And somewhere along the road I stop hearing people say "no" to me and started to hear them say "Someday I’ll wish I’d said yes to you."
I guess it’s working, and I have a few gold stars to show for it. The first printing of my book, The Craft Beer Cookbook(affiliate link), sold out in less than three months, I’m a regular beer expert on a radio show, I have people from all over the world share photos of the dishes they have made from my site with me over Facebook and Twitter (I LOVE this, keep doing it, highlight of my day), and in the past year I’ve been interviewed by dozens of magazines all over the world. I’m humbled by this in an enormous way, that what I’ve worked nights, weekends, poured so much time and money into is being realized. That I’m able to do this, share this love with you, and find a place in craft beer.
A few days ago an interview I did with the print magazine Imbibe hit newsstands. I stood in Barnes & Noble, trying really hard not grab the guy perusing motorcycle magazine standing next to me and yell, "THAT’S ME!" and shove page 21 in his face. I refrained.
So I’m doing it to you instead, I’m shoving page 21 in your face and yelling. But to you, I’m yelling "Thank you."
Tomato Herb and Beer Poached Cod with Caramelized Fennel
Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the fennel slices and cook until caramelized on each side, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic, stir for about 30 seconds. Add the white ale, scraping to deglaze the pot.
Add the crushed tomatoes, red peppers, paprika, basil. tarragon and salt, bring to a low simmer.
Add the cod fillets, pushing gently to submerge.
Simmer until cod is cooked through and flakes easily with a fork, about 8 minutes (Note: do not boil or fish will become tough, keep tomato sauce at a low simmer).
Using a slotted spoon, remove cod from the pot, add to a serving platter.
Bring the tomato mixture to a strong simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened and reduced about 10 minutes.
Pancakes are my first food memory. I’m one of 8 kids (all girls, wrap your head around that) and one of about 27 cousins (I don’t even know the actual number) which made alone time with my grandparents really special.
I was a lifeguard for three years in college. Mostly at summer camps, poorly run water slide parks and a bad summer on floating dock in the middle of a dirty lake.
Late one night at a summer camp in Western Canada the guys who ran the camp decided to let the pre-teen campers, hopped up on Sysco ice cream and fudge sauce, jump into the pool. For about two hours I watched as they seemed to instinctively go from one side of the pool to the other, cheering, waving their hands, jumping up and down. When that got boring, they just did it all on the other side of the pool.
The following week, after Ice Cream Social Night, the pool was opened again, and the same thing happened again with a completely different group of adolescents doped up on saccharine. Every week after was the same routine. "WE LOVE THIS SIDE OF THE POOL!" they all seemed to be cheering, and a few minutes later, "NO THIS SIDE OF THE POOL IS THE BEST!"
We don’t grow out of that by the way, we just find more adult ways of shifting from one side of the pool to the other, "WE LIKE MINI SKIRTS!" no, wait, "WE LOVE MAXI SKIRTS!" And as cool as we think we are in the beer community, we do it too. "WE LOVE HOPS A LOT!" but, wait, "MALTY BELGIANS ARE THE BEST EVER!" While hops and malt, opposing forces that could never live without each other, will always be held in equal regard when it comes to importance in the beer making process, the "in beer" seems to favor one or the other. We have made a bit of a shift in the past year, from the Hop The Crap Out Of This Quadruple IPA to the Malty Sweetness Deep And Roasty Belgian ales. To celebrate this shift, I used a red ale that has tons of malt but didn’t forget the hops. A common ground in the middle of that Hops vs Malt pool.
I’m up for either, as long as you don’t trash talk the other side of the pool, you know you’re going to be back there in a few minutes.
Add the cream cheese, goat cheese, Asiago cheese, parmesan cheese, beer, and garlic powder to the food processor, process until well combined. Add the chives and pulse until just combined.
Place on a sheet of plastic wrap, form into a ball, wrapping with plastic wrap. Refrigerate until firm, about 3 hours and up to 24 (flavors develop overnight, don’t be afraid to make this a day ahead of time).
Remove from the plastic wrap, gently roll in chopped walnuts until coated.
Let’s pretend for a second that you’ve never had biscuits and gravy.
Like you’ve never sat in good company at a crappy diner in a small town eating sub par biscuits and gravy washing it down with shitty coffee like it’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had. Like you’ve never had someones grandma make them for you so early in the morning you could hardly keep your eyes open. Like you’ve never delayed the start of day two of a road trip just so that you could have a plate of southern comfort food from that place your friend once told you about.
But we can’t do that. Because there is something about that combination of simple ingredients, done just right, that stays with us forever. The way the perfect song pouring out your car windows as you drive down a softly worn country road on a summer afternoon makes you feel like everything’s right in the world.
The food that stays with us, that comforts us, reminds us of home, is almost always simple food. It’s these dishes that are worth making, and remaking, over and over, making small adjustments that no one but us really notices, because dishes like this stay with us.
In a processor add flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugar, and rosemary.
Pulse to combine. Add the cold butter, process until well combined. Add to a large bowl.
Add the buttermilk and beer. Mix with a fork until just combined.
Add to a well-floured flat surface, pat into a rectangle. Using a cold rolling pin (preferably marble) gently roll into a large rectangle, about 1 inch in thickness, using as few strokes as possible.
Fold the dough into thirds as you would a letter about to go into an envelope. Roll lightly, once in each direction to about 1 inch thickness, fold in thirds again. Gently roll into about 1 1/2 inch thickness (this will give you the flakey layers).
Using a biscuit cutter cut out 6 to 8 biscuits. Place in a baking pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray.
Brush biscuits with melted butter, sprinkle salt.
Bake at 400 for 12 to 15 minutes or until the tops are golden brown.
To make the gravy add the sausage to a pan over medium high heat. Cook, breaking up with a wooden spoon, until browned. Add the onions and butter, stirring and cooking until onions are browned, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle with flour. Whisk until flour is well combined. Cook until flour has browned. Add the milk, stout, Worcestershire, salt, pepper and cayenne pepper. Cook until thickened, about 8 minutes.
Top the biscuits with gravy and fried eggs, if desired.
A HUGE Thank You to my Facebook Fans who suggested I work on a Beer Biscuits and Gravy recipe. You guys are always an inspiration.
Leave it to me to take a perfectly healthy and delicious side dish, like roasted broccoli, and pour a bunch of cheese and beer all over it, effectively negating most of the health benefits.
But really, it’s for your own good. There’s a good chance you’re sitting there planning a menu, a Turkey centric, end it with pie, If I don’t eat too much I’m doing it wrong, type of late November meal. Me too.
We’ve got the main dish down, and potatoes are all set, lots of pies (probably too many), but then those wily vegetable side dishes always come last. Is green bean casserole really enough green stuff? Should I have more?
Yes. You should have some roasted broccoli, serve it with a side of cheese sauce to match the excessive gluttony level of the rest of the table.
Sprinkle with flour and cornstarch, whisk until thickened. Cook, whisking continually for three minutes. Slowly whisk in the milk and the beer, stirring to make sure no lumps remain.
About ¼ cup at a time, add the cheese, whisking between addition until the cheese has completely melted. Make sure to adjust heat to make sure it does not boil.
Preheat oven to 400.
Add the broccoli to a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with garlic and salt. Toss to coat.
Roast at 400 for 10-15 minutes until fork tender and edges have started to crisp.
Serve with cheese sauce on the side or drizzled on top.
