Oct 21, 2010

Jamaican Jerk Beef Kebabs

I'll never forget the first time I tried Jamaican food. I was on a date. A very awkward first date.

It remember that Tuesday afternoon like it was yesterday. My date and I were making nervous small talk as we drove through town, both staring straight ahead, only glancing at each other for brief moments at a time. Still, I noticed his over-gelled spiky hair and I'm sure he noticed my overly done up face.

We arrived at Coconut Grove, a brand new Jamaican restaurant that stood out like a soar thumb amidst the frat boy bars and grease traps that lined the vicinity of our college campus. Maybe that's why we were the only customers in the place. Or maybe I was just too nervous to notice anyone else.

We sat down in a tiny two-seater booth and began the unconscious game of avoiding direct eye contact while fiddling with straw wrappers. Thankfully, being the only customers meant our chipper waiter checked on us often and was soon rattling off daily specials. I scanned the menu, full of weird fruit chutneys and foreign pork dishes until I found something that my uncultured taste buds could hopefully choke down, a jerk chicken sandwich.

While we waited for our food, the date went something like this: He’d tell a joke. I’d laugh. Then we’d both take sips of our sodas and pretend to read the table toppers to avoid an inevitable awkward silence. Silence wasn't something we wanted. Silence meant we might have to acknowledge the one thing we’d been avoiding since he picked me up that afternoon. The subject of the night before.


Less than 24 hours earlier, we’d put on a fundraiser for our school's ad club. Did I mention that we were classmates? Buddies? We were, in fact, two people who normally would've joked the night away in a circle of friends, complete with arm jabbing and teasing. 

But this fundraiser had free beer. And for those of you who don’t know, free beer has been known to come along with an overdose of confidence. And that’s why I kissed him.

Alas, after several beers and a few fruity blue-colored shots, two good friends had their first kiss, surrounded by all their confused classmates. From there, the night was a whirlwind of confessions. “I’ve liked you for so long." "Me, too." And we both assured each other this was the beginning of something perfect. And that the best relationships start out as friendships. And that things wouldn't, just couldn't, be weird the next day. No, we would surely dodge the curse of most friends-turned-something-more. So we planned a lunch date to prove it to ourselves.


So there we were. On our lunch date. It felt surreal that the same man who used to make me laugh was now was making me nervous, and I knew things would forever be different. We’d kissed, and there was no changing that. I'd just have to try and get over the weirdness of it all.

The arrival of our food, usually a comfort on awkward dates, added only more weirdness. The spicy sweet jerk flavor was all too new to my taste buds, which at that point in my life were loyal only to chicken fingers and the occasional quesadilla, 86 the onions. Yes, at a time in my life I didn’t like onions, which I now eat straight out of the pan when I’m carmelizing them. So you can’t blame me for not jumping for joy over the exotic sandwich staring back at me. But in all honestly, I couldn’t taste much anyway because my brain was too focused on the man across the table to allow my gustatory system full function.

Needless to say, I accidentally left my leftovers on the table when we left.


After lunch, we decided to skip class and watch Fight Club back at my apartment, which really meant we sat there over thinking what to do and how to sit, wondering if we looked ok and had anything in our teeth, all the while making sure we still reacted to the important parts of the movie to maintain our cover that we were actually watching it.

Then, finally, in another act of boldness, we kissed again. Sober. And we knew it was real. All our nerves were put at ease and the world made perfect sense. I could date my friend. I really could. 

In fact, in just a few days, we’ll be celebrating our two-year wedding anniversary. 


So now that I'm married to the jerk-loving man, I thought I'd give Jamaican flavors a second chance. Thankfully, my tongue has come along way since my college years, because these fragrant kabobs are to die for. Just blend up the quick sauce and throw them on the grill or cook them under the broiler.
 

The sauce, a sweet-spicy mix of Christmas and the Caribbean, pairs perfectly with the juicy beef, red pepper and plantains, which get nice and crunchy on the grill. We ate our meal with toasted pita, black beans and rice and a few slices of grilled pineapple, which I totally recommend. It's absolutely delicious. And this time, there were no leftovers to leave behind.


Jamaican Jerk Beef Kebabs
Cooking Light, August 2001
Yield: 6 servings (serving size: 1 kebab)

Note: Jerk is a Jamaican seasoning blend used on beef, pork, chicken, lamb, and fish. Traditionally, jerk is a dry rub, but you can mix it with liquid to form a paste or marinade. Choose yellow plantains with black spots to ensure that they're ripe.

Ingredients:
1/2  cup  chopped green onions
1  tablespoon  ground allspice
2  tablespoons  red wine vinegar
1  teaspoon  salt
1  teaspoon  chopped fresh or 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
2  teaspoons  low-sodium soy sauce
1/2  teaspoon  ground cinnamon
1/8  teaspoon  ground nutmeg
2  habanero or serrano peppers, seeded
1 1/2  pounds  boneless sirloin, trimmed and cut into 30 cubes
1  red bell pepper, cut into 18 pieces
2  black-ripe plantains, peeled, and each cut into 9 pieces
Cooking spray
Diagonally cut green onions (optional)
Lime wedges (optional)

Preparation:
Prepare grill.

Combine first 9 ingredients in a food processor or blender; process until smooth. Place onion mixture, beef, and bell pepper pieces in a large zip-top plastic bag; seal. Marinate in refrigerator 20 minutes.

Remove beef and bell pepper pieces from bag; discard marinade. Place beef, bell pepper pieces, and plantain pieces in a large bowl; toss well to coat. Thread 5 beef cubes, 3 red pepper pieces, and 3 plantain pieces alternately onto each of 6 (12-inch) skewers. Lightly coat kebabs with cooking spray. Place kebabs on grill rack coated with cooking spray. Cook 4 minutes on each side for medium-rare or until desired degree of doneness. Garnish with green onion pieces and serve with lime wedges, if desired.

Nutritional Information: Calories: 260 (25% from fat), Fat: 7.1g (sat 2.7g,mono 2.9g,poly 0.3g), Protein: 26.9g Carbohydrate: 21.3g, Fiber: 2.4g, Cholesterol: 76mg, Iron: 3.4mg, Sodium: 358mg, Calcium: 20mg. 
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Sep 24, 2010

Chocolate Almond Cherry Crisps


Sometimes, you just want chocolate. But you don’t want to turn on the oven. You don’t want to crack eggs. You don’t want to sift flour...and cocoa...and sugar. And you certainly don't want to tie on an apron and waste away the afternoon in a hot, sweaty kitchen, only to be left with a mountain of batter-dripping dishes and endless minutes of painstaking waiting. You just. Want. Chocolate. 


And the days you really need chocolate are most likely the days you lack the ambition to decorate 24 darling little cupcakes, perfectly frost a three-tiered masterpiece or do anything with a knife other than take out your aggregation.

But with cooking and baking out the door, there really aren't many options, unless you're willing to settle for an over priced, preservative-packed candy bar (guilty) or a handful of chocolate chips straight from the bag (guilty).

Ahh...but have we forgotten about the microwave and its magical powers to, in just minutes, turn ordinary chocolate chips into hot, swirly bowls of melty chocolate that can be quickly molded into just about anything our cocoa-craving hearts desire? It's true!

These surprisingly low-cal, delicious little candies are basically a grown-up version of chocolate-covered Rice Krispies treats. (And by grown-up, I really just mean more chocolate and less cereal.) Or maybe more like a crunch bar on steroids. Either way, sweet-tart dried cherries, slivered almonds and vanilla pair perfectly with white and dark chocolate and the airy crunch of Rice Krispies. Delicious!


For your own little candy bars at a moment's notice, just melt a little chocolate, stir in the rest of the ingredients, shape, and throw into the fridge to chill...for an hour.  

Seems there is a little waiting in this recipe. But well worth it, I assure you. And hey, there's always that chocolate-covered bowl and spoon to "clean up" while you wait. After all, sometimes, you just. Want. Chocolate.



Chocolate Almond Cherry Crisps
Laura Zapalowski, Cooking Light, DECEMBER 2007
Yield: 36 servings (serving size: 1 crisp)

Note: Prepare up to two days in advance, and store in the refrigerator in an airtight container. You can also experiment with different types of chocolate, nuts and dried fruit.

Ingredients:
1  cup  semisweet chocolate chips
3/4  cup  white chocolate chips
1 1/2  cups  oven-toasted rice cereal (such as Rice Krispies)
3/4  cup  dried cherries
1/3  cup  slivered almonds
1/2  teaspoon  vanilla

Preparation:
Cover a large baking sheet with wax paper.

Place semisweet and white chocolate chips in a medium glass bowl; microwave at HIGH 45 seconds. Stir, and microwave an additional 45 seconds or until almost melted. Stir until smooth. Add cereal and remaining ingredients; stir quickly to combine. Drop mixture by tablespoonfuls onto prepared baking sheet; chill 1 hour or until firm.

Nutritional Information: Calories: 68 (44% from fat), Fat: 3.3g (sat 2g,mono 0.8g,poly 0.2g), Protein: 0.6g, Carbohydrate: 9.7g, Fiber: 0.7g, Cholesterol: 0.0mg, Iron: 0.3mg, Sodium: 6mg, Calcium: 7mg
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Sep 17, 2010

Hot Crab Dip


If my husband ever had a reason to be jealous, it wouldn't be because of another man. But dip, now there's something to worry about. See, at some point in my life, I gave my heart to hummus, spinach artichoke dip, and anything else that plays well with pita. And now, nothing can be done to stop this love affair.

There’s just something so irresistible about the combination of crunchy, salty chips and creamy dip. One bite throws me into a trance, with glazed over eyes and zombie-like arm-to-mouth movements that do not...will not...subside until every last bit is gobbled up, scraped and licked clean. That's when I look up from my empty plate and realize that the last fifteen minutes of meaningful conversation with my husband had been one-sided. On his side. And jealousy ensues, without a doubt.
 

One of the most addictive dips I've ever had, fittingly called "crack dip," is sadly something I just have to restrict from my kitchen because the recipe comes with a death sentence. Cream cheese, ranch dressing, blue cheese, hot sauce, canned chicken and cheddar. Yes, that is the recipe. Not a list of every condiment in my fridge.

But I've been craving it. A lot. So I riffled through recipes and finally turned to this hot, cheesy crab dip instead. With a few lightened ingredients, but plenty of zesty, creamy goodness, it seemed to fit the bill without the added ridiculousness.


It really did hit the spot. Creamy, cheesy, crabby. Perfect with melba toast. And a little extra hot sauce adds just the right amount of kick. In fact, I’m sure I could sit for hours, a bowl of this dip in my lap, armed with only a bag of melba toasts and a remote control and be quite happy with life. Just don't tell the hubby. He's already begun to give our jar of salsa the evil eye.


Hot Crab dip
Laura Martin, Cooking Light, November 2006
Yield: 20 servings (serving size: about 3 tablespoons)

Ingredients:
1  cup  fat-free cottage cheese
1/2  teaspoon  grated lemon rind
2  tablespoons  lemon juice
1  tablespoon  Dijon mustard
1 1/2  teaspoons  Worcestershire sauce
1  teaspoon  hot sauce (or more if you like more zest.)
1/2  teaspoon  salt
1/8  teaspoon  freshly ground black pepper
1  garlic clove, minced
1  (8-ounce) block 1/3-less-fat cream cheese, softened
2  tablespoons  chopped green onion
1  pound  lump crabmeat, shell pieces removed
Cooking spray
2  tablespoons  grated fresh Parmesan cheese
1/4  cup  dry breadcrumbs

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 375°.

Combine first 9 ingredients in a food processor; process until smooth.

Combine cottage cheese mixture, cream cheese, and onion in a large bowl; gently fold in crab.

Place crab mixture in an 11 x 7-inch baking dish coated with cooking spray. Bake at 375° for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with Parmesan and breadcrumbs. Bake at 375° for 15 minutes or until lightly golden. Serve warm with melba toast or pita chips.

Nutritional Information: Calories: 63 (53% from fat), Fat: 3.1g (sat 1.8g,mono 0.1g,poly 0.0g), Protein: 6.8g, Carbohydrate: 1.9g, Fiber: 0.1g, Cholesterol: 30mg, Iron: 0.3mg, Sodium: 264mg, Calcium: 29mg.
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Sep 10, 2010

Fresh Fruit Salad with Honey, Ginger & Lime Sauce


Feel that? That crisp, chilly breeze that’s been swirling around us lately, filling our heads with the hope of golden-leafed, sweater-clad, apple-cinnamon-infused autumn days? Seems everyone is getting antsy for cooler weather and festive décor, but as we relish in this first taste of fall, stop for a minute and realize what is really happening here... Summer as we know it is slipping through our fingertips. And we don’t even care!

In a matter of weeks, we’ll all be welcoming spiced candles, wax leaf wreathes and warm hues into our homes with wide, goofy grins. We’ll happily pack up our sandals and swimsuits and replace them with the scarves and boots we’ve been waiting all year to don. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, we’ll start each brisk morning with silky, frizz-free hair and Starbucks pumpkin lattés and we’ll go for rosy-cheeked walks around our neighborhoods. And we’ll be happy.

But before long, brisk will turn into downright cold. The snow will fall. The ice will creep over our windshields. The heaters will eat away at our shopping funds. Our husbands will stab us with icy toes and our parched knuckles and lips will chap until they crack. There we’ll be, scuffing across frigid kitchen floors on three pairs of wool socks with afghan-draped shoulders to fumble through canned peaches and peas, in hopes of a decent dinner that doesn’t involve braving a blizzard.

And just as we're tempted to take a bite of our holiday beaded faux fruit, we’ll realize how precious those last few days of summer really were and how wistfully we wasted them. Those days when fresh, vibrant fruit filled our bowls and dinner meant something sizzling on the grill instead of caked in a casserole dish.

So hold on to summer, people! It will be long gone soon enough. Then we can buy our pumpkins and gourds and embrace fall with open arms. But for now, I’m not yet done with zucchinis and watermelons and pots of fragrant herbs. And I am certainly not done with my dear farmer’s market.


Where else can you find yourself riffling through baskets of fresh plucked peaches one minute, and the next, a bin of vintage scarves? Detroit's Eastern Market, to be exact, is the lovely place I finally discovered this summer. I went for peaches and blueberries and came back with four armfuls of goodies, some of which I wasn't sure what to do with (zucchini), some I wasn't sure if I even liked (radishes), and some bought out of pure guilty nostalgia (orange blossom honey, which I bought from the sweetest old beekeeper who reminded me of my grandpa, even though the stand two feet away sold the stuff for less. I'm a sucker).








And what to do with four armfuls of fruits and veggies? Become vegetarian, of course, at least for a while. That weekend, I was enslaved to the kitchen, making avocado-radish salad (turns out I do love radishes), grilled corn with lime butter, wild mushroom quesadillas, homemade hummus and salsa, two huge fruit salads and fried, golden zucchini.

Orange blossom honey, by the way, was perfect combined with lime and fresh ginger for this amazing hold-on-to-what-you-got summer fruit salad. Sweet and tangy with a little kick, the sauce really takes juicy peaches, plump blueberries and sliced green grapes to a whole new level of deliciousness. For the perfect summer afternoon, I have an inkling this salad would be awesome served up with a nice grilled pork chop and a glass of sangria.


So, don't jump into fall prematurely, folks. Soak up every last drop of summer. Keep the lemonade flowing. Keep the grill grilling. Take advantage of every fruit and vegetable before it goes out of season.

Although, I must admit...all this talk about fall is making me want to bust out just one glittery pumpkin for the bookshelf. And just a little candy corn isn't going to spoil summer all that bad. And what's so wrong with burning a few cinnamon candles and wearing a few scarves and breaking in my brown suede boots and all my fuzzy sweaters and...

...so it begins.




Fresh Fruit Salad with Honey Ginger Lime Sauce
Marie Meyer, Greensboro, NC, Cooking Light, JUNE 2006
Yield: 8 servings (serving size: 1/2 cup)

Ingredients:
1  tablespoon  fresh lime juice
1 1/2  tablespoons  honey
1/4  teaspoon  minced peeled fresh ginger
2  cups  sliced peeled peaches (about 2)
1  cup  blueberries
1  cup  seedless green grapes, halved

Preparation: Combine first 3 ingredients in a small bowl; stir with a whisk. Combine peaches, blueberries, and grapes in a bowl. Drizzle juice mixture over fruit mixture; toss gently to coat. Chill at least 1 hour.

Nutritional Information: Calories: 53 (3% from fat) Fat: 0.2g (sat 0.0g,mono 0.0g,poly 0.1g), Protein: 0.7g, Carbohydrate: 13.8g, Fiber: 1.3g, Cholesterol: 0.0mg, Iron: 0.3mg, Sodium: 1mg, Calcium: 6mg.
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