Sunday, October 28, 2012

Chicken Baked In A Pumpkin Pot

I've never made this, but I found it interesting.  I'll have to print a copy for myself to try later.  However, it uses something the author calls "Sweet Seasons"  When you read the list of ingredients you find some of them are a not cheap!  Pomegranate powder?  $16 for 8 ounces.  Yikes!  I think I'll just go with the pumpkin spice!

Chicken Baked In A Pumpkin Pot
Ingredients
  • one medium pumpkin
  • one 2 ½ pound chicken
  • 2 cups fresh herbs to taste (rosemary, thyme, basil, scallions, sage, fennel)
  • 1 cup white wine
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon Sweet Seasons spice blend, or pumpkin pie spice
  • olive oil
Cooking Directions
  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Cut a lid in the top of the pumpkin and remove the seeds and pith.
  3. Season chicken and pumpkin with salt and pepper. Don't be afraid to be generous!
  4. Throw herbs inside pumpkin and stuff chicken cavity with herbs. For extra flavor, use two fingers to lift the skin on the chicken breasts and thighs. Stuff herbs inside chicken so that they lay directly against the meat.
  5. Place seasoned chicken inside pumpkin.
  6. Add wine, paprika, garlic powder and Sweet Seasons spice blend to chicken and pumpkin. Drizzle with olive oil and replace lid. Secure the lid by sticking the pumpkin with wooden skewers.
  7. Add ½ inch of water to a roasting pan so the bottom of the pumpkin won’t burn. Place pumpkin in roasting pan and cook in 350 degree oven for 2 hours. Juices from the chicken should run clear as an indication that it is fully cooked.
  8. Serve chicken with wedge of pumpkin and drizzle with juice from the pumpkin.
Here's the link to the Sweet Seasons...if you want to try using it instead.

UPDATE October 2013.  I finally made it.   But...I wasn't too impressed.  For one, to cook it in the pumkin takes FOREVER.  The chicken did have a lot of flavor.  But...it wasn't a great recipe.



Pumpkin Pot

This is a tradition at our family during the October/November season when pumpkins are plentiful.  The most important thing?  Make sure the pumpkin can fit in your oven!!

I first found this recipe in a magazine several decades ago.  I think Good Housekeeping.  A few years back I found it online at a website that is defunct.  It's reincarnated at the above link.  Below is the recipe in its entirety.

1 pumpkin (7 lb.)
1 1/2 lb. garlic sausage
1 c. sliced sweet pepper
1 1/2 c. chopped onion
2 apples, cored and cubed
2/3 c. dry white wine
1/3 c. water
1/3 c. raisins
1 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. dried thyme

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut top off pumpkin. Discard seeds and stringy pulp. Place pumpkin, cut side down, in a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan. Fill pan with water to a depth of 1 inch. Bake pumpkin for 1 1/2 to 2 hours until tender. After pumpkin has been baking for 1 hour, prepare filling.

Cook sausage in a large skillet over medium high heat. Remove sausage and add peppers, onions and apples and thyme to skillet. Sauté until onions are transparent. Add wine, water, raisins, sugar and simmer 20 minutes.

Take pumpkin from oven. Discard water. Replace pumpkin, cut side up, in pan. Fill pumpkin with sausage mixture, mounding at the top, if necessary. Cover top with foil. Return to oven and bake for 10 minutes or until pumpkin and filling are heated. Serve directly from the pumpkin, scooping out pumpkin flesh to accompany each serving. Serves 6.

I normally serve the dish with rice.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

You're Not in Kansas Anymore...


My wife, daughter and I had a wonderful time in Switzerland visiting the small town of Bellinzona just above the Como, Italy a little ways.  It was Fastnacht. And all the cities, large and small are filled with wonderful colorful parades.   But, the day was growing darker and it was time to go.

We boarded the Swiss train and found our seats.  It was late and we hadn't eaten anything for dinner yet so we headed to the dining car after dumping our luggage. 
 

We sat next to a window watching the trees and poles whiz by.  The dining room attendant came over to us and just stood there.  I looked at him and tried to give him our order in the best Italian I could muster...which isn't saying a lot.  After a few attemtps, the attendant looked at me and said in perfect American English "Sorry, I don't speak Italian."

With a mixture of surprise and relief I shut the menu. "Niether do I!" And then I gave him our order.  After he walked away I leaned over to my wife. "I don't think he's from around here."

A few minutes he came back with drinks.  So we talked.  "Where are you from?"

Wichita, Kansas. 
 

I said, well, fella, you took a wrong turn somewhere.  What the heck are you doing here?

He explained: I lived in Witchita and worked for Worldcomm.  When they folded I was let go.  There was nothing.  No one was hiring.  I sat in the living room with my wife, discouraged, trying to figure out what to do. 
 

Then out of the blue, my wife said "let's move to Switzerland".  She had just read some on it and it seemed like a nice place.


Wow!  Talk about random. But if you have nothing, what do you do?  I can see him rubbing his chin saying "You know that idea sounds so crazy, it might just work."

And it did.

The American and his wife had lived there now for eight years.  I asked him how is German was.  "Excellent." he said.  Well, I guess after eight years, it had better be.  I recall him saying they had one, maybe two children now.

So, I said.  Eight years.  Is there anything you miss about the US?

He smiled and said 24 hour grocery stores.  24 hour drug stores.  24 hour anything!

Yes, we knew how he felt.  We had been living overseas several times by now.  We missed those as well.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Focaccia


I stood there in the Whole Foods on Waugh St with my mouth hanging open.  The "baker" was giving me every reason in the world why she could not and would not make focaccia.  Here I was a customer trying to explain to her no one in Houston that I knew of had real focaccia bread.  After imparting a few choice words to her, I stormed away. 


In Milan, Italy, school would let out at about 2:30pm at the school located at Felice Casati.  There was a large internal court yard where the crowd of parents would wait at for the children to be brought out.  As the children are united with us parents, we would all slowly make our way out the back, round the corner to the left or right.  We would head left.  The crowd would disperse but a number of us would stop at a local bakery for freshly made focaccia bread.

The children would line up, squishing their faces against the glass, smacking their lips for what is only....bread.  If you have never had real focaccia, this all is very strange and weird.  A baked good with no sugar other than that to feed the yeast and help the focaccia to rise.  And kids can't get enough of it.

Did you ever in your life see children lining up to eat Wonder Bread?

So why would children and their parents want....bread?  This
 bread?

Because focaccia is delicious.

Tre, per favore.
  I would say in the little Italian I knew.  One for me, my wife and our daughter.  You'd have to eat it using the little paper sack as a holder due to the enormous amount of olive oil that it is cooked in, then painted on the surface.  The bread is baked on large cookie sheets (Not the correct term.  I forget what the term is for the large shallow tray) baked to a spongy crispness.  It is anywhere from half of an inch to a whole inch thick.  The thicker focaccia bread could be sliced in half and used to make the most delicious sandwiches in the world.

Imagine my dismay at coming back to Houston and not finding it anywhere.  Oh, there are restaurants and bakeries that sell what they call focaccia.  But it's all fake.  None of it is real.

The Central Market on Westheimer where bakers wear the tallest hats in Houston sell focaccia.  Or so they think.  But all I can do is shake my head.

Panera Bread has a sandwich made with "focaccia" bread.  But again, it's not real focaccia bread.

Stop looking for it.  All you do is get angry and disappointed.  My wife would say.  I guess she's right.

I haven't checked out all the restaurants - which is an impossibility - so hope springs eternal that I will find a place in Houston that had decided to be honest with us and do it right.


I've decided I'll have to make some and shove into the Whole Food store manager's pie hole to make them sell the real stuff.

Gedeckzweimann


The first time I lived in Dresden in 2005 and 2006 I visited the Cafe and Konditorei on Zwinglistrasse just beside the tram Haltestelle there.  "Guten Morgen!" I would say and the server would always reply in kind.   I would hang my hat and coat on the wall that bore a sign that roughly translated "you do this at your own risk".

I was the
 Gedeckzweimann.  I always ordered the same thing. Gedeck Zwei was two Brötchen with Butter and Marmelade and a Kännchen of coffee.  I would pull out my PDA and read the RSS of various websites.  I kept an eye out the window on the marquee that gave the estimated time for each tram.  When the number 1 or 2 tram was within 5 minutes, I would pay my four euros, say "Tschuss!" and leave for work.  I was spoiled.

The second time I lived in Germany, I started out living in Freiberg which is located about a 40 minute train ride outside of Dresden.  Freiberg still is filled with buildings that predate the fall of the Iron Curtain.  But much of it is modernized.  It's a small town that one can easily traverse on foot to most parts.

My colleague and I would eat at a very small bakery just up the street from the
 Pension we were staying.  The same lady worked there practically everyday.  As our German got better we could make small talk with her.  My colleague's German was much better than mine.  My breakfast consisted of something similar to the Gedeck Zwei I used to order at the Konditorei on Zwinglistrasse.  Two Brötchen and a cup of coffee.  It all cost about 3 euros.

Later, I moved to Dresden after my family joined me.  I would make my way to the Hauptbahnhof and buy a 
Wurstcroissant or Schinken und Käsecroissant with a small cup of coffee at the oddly named Crobag pastrey shop.  Most times I would eat it on the train while I read.  The commuter train was smooth and quiet. Many times I would fall asleep going to and from Freiberg.  Upon arriving in Freiberg, I would walk down to the bakery and my colleague, who stayed there in the small town, would be there waiting on me. We'd chat for a few minutes, then leave for work.

It goes without saying...I was spoiled.