Comfort Food for a Restful Break

Ahhhhhhhhh. Allow me to catch you up. After I submitted grades, I went to bed. I slept in without waking up at 2, 3 or 4 AM in a cold sweat, without even waking up when my cat meowed in my ear all morning. I logged into my email and didn't see 50 pleas or beggings for forgiveness, I drove to my office and didn't encounter a single student. It looked like a ghost town, and my blood pressure never rose once. Is it? Could it be? BREAK??!!

Yes, oh yes, it is break. I watched a line of cars the length of a football field head out of town from my little valley, and with their vacancy came the loud proclamation from the depths of my soul:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

It isn't that I dislike the presence of students. I just relish the quiet. Pullman is a tiny town, and without the student population the whole town slows down. No rush, no bustle, just silent calm.

To commemorate my final winter break in Pullman, I decided on comfort food. Comfort food is stick-to-your-ribs delicious, but it doesn't have to stick to your waistline. Pork chops are lean enough that a simple pan sauce can be downright satisfying, and even though mashed potatoes have been given a bad reputation in recent years, without adding a pound of butter, the potato is one of the most nutritious vegetables around (they possess the highest amount of protein that any vegetable has to offer). Rounding out the meal with a big ol' pile of steamed broccoli and a salad, my version of "comfort food" was every bit as comforting as a steak and loaded baked potato dinner. Take that, end of semester!

Pork Chops with Sage Apple Sauce
(Adapted from Eating Well's Pork Chops with Apples & Thyme recipe)

3/4 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth, divided
2 teaspoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons canola oil
4 4-ounce boneless pork chops, 1/2 inch thick, trimmed of fat
1 small onion, sliced
1 Fuji apple, peeled and sliced
1/4 cup apple cider, or apple juice
2 teaspoons whole grain Dijon mustard
1 tsp. crushed sage

Directions
1. Mix 2 tablespoons broth and cornstarch in a small bowl.
2. Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over high heat. Add chops and cook until browned, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate.
3. Reduce heat to medium-high and add onion to the pan. Cook, stirring often, until it starts to soften and brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Add apple and cook, stirring often, until tender, 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in the remaining broth, cider (or juice), mustard, sage and the cornstarch mixture. Bring to a boil, stirring, until thickened and glossy, about 1 minute. Return the chops to the pan and heat through. Serve immediately with mashed potatoes.

Beeler's Natural Pork, Fontina and Mizuna Panini and Arugula Salad with Grilled Peaches

It may be quite pricey, but this past Sunday shopping trip, Ian and I couldn't resist buying half a ham of Beeler's All Natural Pork from the Moscow Co-Op. They don't have a deli slicer in the meat area, so we used Ian's trusty work slicer to slice up some of the best deli meat I've had in a long time. Sometimes I forget that deli meat actually tastes like meat, and without all the preservatives that make deli slices slimy (shudder) I couldn't resist taking tiny bits from the fridge all night.


The Co-Op also sells a wonderful salted French bread that I just knew would be perfect for panini. With the help of a little Fontina, some of the very fresh mizuna I picked up the farmer's market, caramelized local Walla Walla sweet onions, a dab of Veganase and stone ground mustard, I had a serious monster of a sandwich on my hands.


I also picked up some very juicy local peaches at the farmer's market and decided to grill them up and serve them on a bed of arugula, along with chopped fresh almonds, cherry tomatoes, and a mixture of balsamic vinegar, honey and olive oil (which I basted the peaches with after grilling).


This was one fantastic, almost entirely local meal on a beautiful summer day!

Pork and Chinese Chive Wonton Bites

When I was in college, I was a potsticker junkie. I used to buy those giant, bulky bags of pork dumplings and fry them up while pulling all-nighters, and at times I still get nostalgic for them. Even though I generally don't eat a lot of fried food (or sweet food for that matter--notice that I don't blog about cakes or cookies very often?) every now and then a little indulgence can't be a sin, now can it? Quiet, cardiologists in the corner.


So what do you do when the time comes to indulge a little?


First, make your husband fry up 3/4 lb. of natural pork. Make sure he makes the cutest silly faces whilst in the process. Once it's almost cooked through, make husband add about 1/2 a head of finely diced bok choy, 1/4 cup finely chopped Chinese chives, 2 tsp. grated ginger, 3 tbsp. finely minced onion, and 2 finely minced garlic cloves.








Next, instruct husband to remove the pork mixture from heat and let cool.


Once cool, make your husband assist you in placing about a tsp. (no more than 1 1/2 tsp.) of filling in the middle of each wonton wrapper.






When closing the wrappers, take the opposite corners of the square and squeeze together so the wonton is sealed, and then do the same with the opposite corners. This is just how I do it; if you want alternative wrapping methods or photo tutorials, I would recommend this site. I'm not too good at the wrapping technique, but go ahead and hone your chops.


If you won't be pan frying these babies for awhile, place a damp paper towel over them so they won't dry out.


Next, heat about 4 tbsp. vegetable oil in a large skillet. If you're like me, you'll use grapeseed oil instead because you like its high smoke point and because you just plain felt like it. Once good and hot, add your wontons in batches (or, go ahead and crowd the pan. I did, and I won't tell if you don't) and let cook until the bottoms of the wontons appear golden. Flip them on their sides if you like to continue cooking, or simply add about a 1/2 inch of water so the wontons steam for a few minutes. Remove from heat and enter college nostalgic moment.




Serve with a mixture of soy sauce, sesame oil and chopped green onions for dipping.


Then, eat!!

At Long Last: Ma Po Tofu

I've been in love with Ma Po Tofu for years, ever since I first tasted it at a friend's house. Her mother was a fantastic cook, and as much as I loved my own mom's cooking, I happily spoiled my dinner many times anyway. Unfortunately I never once tasted a comparable version of this dish. Nothing could replicate the slightly sweet taste of the pork and its fat juices mingled with the texture of the tofu and the delightfully potent chili garlic sauce. For years I only ever thought of tofu in relation to Ma Po Tofu.

Until now.


A serious tip of the hat goes to Foodmayhem for posting this recipe, as I had almost completely given up on ever tasting Ma Po Tofu again without almost instantaneous disappointment. Ian was over the moon for it as well, and I've already made it three times in a month.


The only alteration I made was to increase the water from 1/2 cup to a full cup considering I actually used more pork than was called for. I also happened to look up the history of the dish. Food history is one of my hobbies, and some of the tastiest dishes have interesting origins. According to legend, Ma Po Tofu (from what I gathered, originally "mapo doufu" but there seems to be a dispute over the transliteration) originated in the Chinese city of Chengdu, concocted by an old woman disfigured by pockmarks. Unfortunately for her she had years before been banished to the outer skirts of Chengdu yet her cooking was discovered by a man and his son. The old woman lived in relative obscurity for much of her life, but luckily her dish lives on in a multitude of variations, although the first dish of legend only specifies tofu, pork and Sichuan peppercorns.


Of course, I have no idea if this story is true. I enlisted a friend fluent in Chinese to help me with a Chinese online encyclopedia entry that claims Ma Po Tofu was created by a woman whose husband was a restaurant chef sometime during the Qing Dynasty. The word "Ma" seems also to be in contention, and since I'm not an expert, I defer to my ignorance. Frankly, I'm not sure I mind not knowing the truth of a food history. It seems to me that often the popular legend came to be through a sequence of composition that is way sexier than the accidental/mundane food stories (see Chicken Tikka Masala or "stone soup").

If you'd like to see a picture of Mapo Doufu from a restaurant in Chengdu (reportedly straight from the legendary source), see here.