Hot chicken salad (p. 106)

I made some chicken stock for my mom and hoped to find a recipe to use the poached chicken. Hot chicken salad (p. 106) looked perfect! I really love chicken salad--I make a terrific curried chicken salad--but I'd never had a hot version.

I mixed cream of chicken soup with a few tablespoons of milk:



I combined that with cooked chicken, celery, mayonnaise, lemon juice, chives, tarragon, and salt:



And it got popped in the oven for fifteen minutes:



The dish came out looking essentially the same as it looked going in. It was surprisingly good! The crunch of the celery contrasted nicely with the creaminess of the rest of the dish and it was good both spread on bread and on crackers. It was also super easy and used leftover chicken, which is always nice. I think this would be a terrific dish for football party or any sort of appetizer party.

On that note, I've been noticing that I mention often that certain dishes would be good for certain parties. Would anyone be interested if I put together a few menus? Like a menu for a Superbowl party or for a Mad Men party? Let me know!

Chicken or turkey divan (p. 113) and Seafood divan (p. 113)

Divans are one of those really retro (some would say "dated") casserole style American foods. They would totally be appropriate at that "Mad Men" party you are planning to throw. But they aren't anything that your average person even considers making on an average day. That being said, a divan is a pretty easy way to liven up leftover chicken and uses ingredients that you probably have on hand.

I decided to make both Chicken or turkey divan (p. 113) and Seafood divan (p. 113) because it took about the same amount of effort to make both that it was going to take to make one.

I didn't take pictures of the process for this one. Sorry!

I took slices of hot buttered toast and layered them with sliced cooked turkey breast. I spooned cooked broccoli on the top, sprinkled with a little salt, and layered Mornay sauce over the top. It was only after making batch one of the Mornay sauce that I realized the TJOC recipe only produces one cup at a time and I needed more than that. Fortunately, Mornay sauce is easy to scale up and I can make it super, super fast now, so it wasn't a problem. I sprinkled Parmesan over the top of the divan.




For the seafood divan I replaced the turkey with tuna (one with canned, the other two with pouch) and replaced the broccoli with asparagus. Seafood divan would be a great choice for Catholics during lent, who are getting sick of their McDonald's Filet O Fish.



Finished seafood divan:



Finished turkey divan:



So how where they? Josh said that the seafood divan using canned tuna was a bit soggy, so you are better off using pouch tuna or shrimp. I thought the turkey divan was quite good, it was almost good enough to sway me from my hatred of hot sandwiches. The lasting lesson from these two dishes is that Mornay sauce makes anything better. The Mornay sauce mixed with the vegetables was by far the best part of the dish.

Slow-cooker vegetarian chili (p. 101)

Ah, Slow-cooker vegetarian chili (p. 101). I was not looking forward to this recipe. Josh hates beans and I hate bell peppers, plus we both like meat in our chili, so this was not going to be a winner by anyone's count.

Backing up a little, a month ago I joined a co-working space, in hopes that having an office again would motivate me to finish my dissertation and keep my blog updated (both of which are actually occurring, so it was a good choice). While on my free day pass to see if coworking would work for me, everybody was discussing a chili cook-off. Not only did I instantly know a chili cook-off would be the perfect place to pass off the vegetarian chili, I also knew that Cohere would be the perfect match for me.

The chili was easy and would have been even easier if I didn't have the irrational fear that the slow cooker wants to burn my house down (yes, I assign it intent).

I soaked pinto beans overnight:



They didn't seem tender at all. Josh had just told me that he had recently listened to some program on NPR that said beans need to be soaked longer, so, with that in mind but no extra time, I used the quick-soak method on them, too (I'm pretty sure that sentence has an extra comma in it, I apologize to the grammar police in advance).

Finally, the beans were muddy and soaked thoroughly:



While that was happening, I cooked an onion, a green pepper, a red pepper, celery, carrots, jalapenos, and garlic in some olive oil. Since I knew I was serving this to a judging panel I took care in my vegetable cutting for once:



I added chili powder:



I added water and tomato paste and brought it to a boil:



The vegetable mixture, the beans, salt, and more water went in to the slow cooker:



And it cooked for hours. About a half an hour before it was finished I added corn:



It then had to ride with me across town and I had to carry it up a flight of stairs. A slow-cooker full of chili is surprisingly heavy and unwieldy.

So how was it?

I am going to have to steal what one of the judges, Kristin from Feasting Fort Collins, wrote about my chili on the her blog post about the event:

Jessica’s “Hopefully Not Spectacularly Boring” vegetarian chili was a sweet, sweet reprieve. It was spotted with colorful chunky vegetables swimming in a healing mellow broth. It was runny like soup, and in fact, a bit on the boring side, but you can’t blame her for The Joy Of Cookings’ recipe and their neglect to using spices.

I have to admit, I didn't try it. I really hate bell peppers. But I will say that although it was underseasoned it was popular with the vegetarians and almost-vegetarians in the crowd and I got a number of compliments on it.

The coworking space has also been invaluable as a place to unload all the baked goods I need to make for TJOTJOC.

So, instead of random facts, I'm going to close this post with a haiku:

In my opinion
Vegetarian chili
Could really use meat

Chicken or turkey pot pie (p. 103) , Poached chicken or turkey (p. 423), Creamed chicken or turkey I (p. 445),& Deluxe butter pie or pastry dough (665

I've been in a cooking rut lately and wanted to do something new. So I stole Carol Porter's idea and I let my readers pick what I should make out of three categories with five choices each. Chicken or turkey pot pie (p. 103) won the savory category. I'm rather glad because it allowed a lot of other recipes to be knocked out. I will admit right now that I'm no pot pie aficionado and most of my pot pie experience comes from the cheap frozen ones that cost a dollar.

I started by making Poached chicken or turkey (p. 423). I put my chicken parts (I cut up a whole chicken--much cheaper that way), carrots, celery, chicken stock, an onion, and bouquet garni into a stockpot and covered it with water. I simmered it all until the chicken was tender:



The chicken peeled right off the bone:



The poached chicken was deliciously tender. I poach chicken constantly when I make stock and it's great in recipes because it's tender and moist. The recipe was certainly easy and I used the broth for stock but I think I will stick with my chicken stock recipe which yields the same results.

I needed the poached chicken for Creamed chicken or turkey I (p. 445). I melted butter in a saucepan and then added flour, whisking until smooth.



I removed the pan from the heat and whisked in two cups of the cooking broth from the poached chicken:



When that was smooth, I added half-and-half and whisked some more:



I whisked and whisked. The cream mixture got thick:



I must have been tired of taking pictures at this point! I heated butter, added onion, carrots, and celery, and cooked. I then added peas and parsley, along with the cooked chicken.

I realized that TJOC wanted the pot pie to go in to a 9x13 pan. Wait a minute--a 9x13 pan???? I thought they went in pie dishes? That is going to make a TON of pot pie! I only have one 9x13 pan and it was still in use by the strata so I had to divide and conquer. The pies went in to two smaller pans:



I've actually never tried my hand at a pie crust before. This is particularly strange because I come from a family that is full of amazing pie bakers. I've watched crusts get made tons of times but I've never made a crust that had to be rolled out, likely due to my fear of recipes that require me to use a rolling pin. I decided to start with the Deluxe butter pie or pastry dough (pate brisee) (p. 665). I sifted together flour and salt:



I added butter and vegetable shortening:



I started working it over with my pastry blender:



I eventually incorporated ice water and kept pastry blending it.

But when I tried to roll it out, it did not work! The dough stuck to everything, it wouldn't stay in one piece, it was a disaster. I'm sure there is a simple explanation for this.



I tried Frankensteining my crust on the top of the pot pie. Isn't it the most pathetic thing?



I brushed an egg on the top:



And baked my pot pies:



Absolutely shockingly, my pot pie was delicious! The crust was flaky (although I'm sure it would have been flakier had I made it correctly) and the center was creamy and full of tender chicken and perfectly cooked vegetables. I loved it. Unfortunately, it made a massive, massive amount. The recipe says 6-8 servings. Are they kidding? For who? Growing teens? Yes, maybe it would feed 6-8 kids on their high school basketball team. We ended up having to throw quite a bit away because it was a neverending amount! I'm sure I will make this recipe again because I have to make another type of creamed chicken and I have no idea what to do with creamed chicken except make pot pie.

I always thought pot pies had a crust on each side. Is that not true?

Random facts:

• Because this crust doesn't include any leavening agents, it doesn't puff up.
• While reading Wikipedia, I figured out that I don't think I blended my crust enough, so my flour and fat didn't get properly incorporated. I will have to work on that.

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Ham cakes with pineapple and sweet potatoes (p. 106)

Ham cakes with pineapple and sweet potatoes (p. 106) was a recipe that seemed very exciting to me but probably seems disgusting to most of the general population. I will have to check my old TJOCs because this seems like a holdover from old editions.

I made the ham mixture from ham loaf but instead of pressing it in to a loaf pan I formed little balls (teehee!):



I sauteed pineapple rings in vegetable oil until they were lightly browned:



This was about as brown as they got:



It was the ham cakes turn to get browned:



I am so intrigued by these ham cakes, it's amazing. I want to eat them instead of hamburgers!



I placed my cakes in the baking dish:



I heated up vegetable oil and cooked two cans worth of sweet potatoes (indication number 100 that this is a 1950's recipe--recipes from the 50's are typically jammed with canned foods), brown sugar, and ground cloves:



I cooked it for a few minutes, then layered the potatoes on and around my ham cakes:



The whole thing was cooked for about a half hour:



I loved these ham cakes. I thought they were absolutely delicious. All the sweetness from the pineapple and the sweet potatoes complimented the ham perfectly. They heated up amazingly. I LOVED the ham cakes and I want to eat them instead of hamburgers. I would make these again in a heartbeat. I WILL make them again.

Josh found them absolutely repulsive in everything from taste to looks. I was happy about that, I mean, more for me! But I think most people would fall on one side or the other. They were definitely different.

I'm thinking ham cakes are from a different era, when people made ham loaves and such. My father says that in his town, hamballs (meatballs made from ham) are a big deal, so I'm thinking that those are from the same time.

So what do you think? Would you eat these ham cakes or does the idea gross you out?

In other news, I'm thinking of putting together a set of menus for different themed parties. Is anyone interested in this idea? I'm definitely doing a Mad Men themed menu.

Ham and vegetable strata (p. 98)

I knew what to expect, sort of, from Ham and vegetable strata (p. 98). For example, from the sausage and mushroom strata, I know it would make a TON of food. I asked Josh if he would rather have asparagus or broccoli in the strata and he chose asparagus. Frozen asparagus is not easy to find. Out of the 300 types of frozen vegetables there was only one (comparatively expensive) choice for frozen asparagus.

I sauteed chopped onions in vegetable oil. I added chopped ham and asparagus and browned it all:



I cut a loaf of French bread into cubes and layered half of the bread cubes in the casserole dish:



Doesn't seem like enough, right? I then covered the bread with the ham mixture:



Sprinkled cheese over the whole thing:



I topped it with the remaining bread and the rest of the cheese.

I mixed milk, eggs, salt, and pepper:



The egg mixture was poured over the top:



The whole thing was baked (no picture, use your imagination, make it beautiful).

Josh loved it, I thought it was disgusting. I finally figured out my problem with stratas. First off, I believe bread pudding should be sweet, not savory. Secondly, I hate hot sandwiches (excluding grilled cheese and French dips). Something about the heated meat grosses me out. And a strata is just a giant hot sandwich. I'm guessing most people would like this (although I didn't) and it certainly made a lot at a relatively low price. I'm just glad I don't have to make any more stratas.

Pineapple glaze (p. 583) and Fish loaf (p. 106)

I had (yet another) ham, which meant (yet another) glaze. I thought Pineapple glaze (p. 583) looked promising.

Glazes are always easy. I mixed chopped pineapple, brown sugar, and ginger together:



And slopped it on the ham:



As you can see, a lot of the pineapple fell off, which probably insinuates that I did not chop it finely enough. This wasn't my favorite glaze, although I did like its sweetness. It was okay but nothing special and it wasn't as good as some of the other TJOC glazes. There also didn't seem to be enough of it--if I made it again, I would use a double batch.

There are very few foods I absolutely will not eat. In fact, I can only think of one--canned tuna. I hate tuna. I hate the taste, I hate the smell, I hate everything about it. Fresh tuna at a sushi restaurant? Delicious. In a can? Nope. So when I saw Fish loaf (p. 106) I knew I was going to have to make it for somebody else.

Like ham loaf, this is another super retro recipe. I've never even heard of anyone making a fish loaf. Even so, I would stick with the ham loaf for your Mad Men party because this might gross people out. Even the idea is strange.

I tore up a few slices of white bread, threw them in the food processor, and pulsed it so crumbs were produced:



I added an onion and celery and mixed:



I then added butter and an egg. At this point I started to worry that the food processor may be too small.



I added in several cans of tuna, lemon juice, oregano, red pepper sauce, salt, and pepper. I packed it all in to a buttered loaf pan:



And baked it:



I certainly didn't try it. Josh said it was strangely soft. He wasn't a big fan. I think the bread made it sort of mushy. It looked much better the next day after sitting (far improved texture) and Josh said it was okay on bread with mayonnaise. I think tartar sauce also would have improved it. A fish meatloaf just seems bizarre to me.

Has anyone ever made a fish loaf before? Would you eat a slice of this one?