Cooking adventures

The one and only time I ever tried to fry chicken, I set fire to the pan and the stove. I was nineteen. I haven't tried to fry food since. We eat the hell out of baked chicken, chicken cooked on the charcoal pit and chicken cooked in my black iron skillet. We do not fry a damn thing here. Which sucks because when I lived in DC I had a friend who used to have me over and make homemade taquitos with me and I crave them on the regular, but you have to fry them, and I. do. not. fry.

I did not learn to cook from my mother, who is an excellent cook. The woman does not possess any ability to stick to a recipe - she always has to doctor something and then she cannot tell you how she doctored it so that we, her daughters, can copy the taste in our own kitchens. Or if it's something she's been cooking for her whole entire life without a recipe, she cannot tell you the measurements you need to use to copy the taste in your own kitchens. If you like something she makes, you better go on to Jena and have her make it for you. What we did learn from her was all about flavors - what flavors are good together, how much of sweet or spice you can get away with - and I must confess that this means I doctor recipes also.

My favorite way to eat a steak is from a skillet. It has to be a good cut of meat and you will fill your house with a dense layer of smoke that will take two hours to dissipate. If you are possessed with the urge to cook steaks this way in below-freezing outdoor temperatures, people in your family may complain when you have to open doors and windows and turn on fans to air out your house. You need mild weather and great kitchen ventilation. I considered neither of these conditions when I decided my family needed to eat Steakhouse Steaks last night.

Cartoon courtesy of Natalie Dee

Sometimes I go blind with a severe need to do something. I forget that I will always regret the pursuit of that thing later, like when cleaning the kitchen and noticing the $48 price tag on the package the four filet mignons came in before throwing it away. Or scrubbing burned rubber off the ceramic stovetop. Or throwing away the crockpot. Or listening to my children cough as they descend the stairs to come eat their dinner.

All of these are residual effects of my passion to eat Steakhouse Steaks and potato soup for dinner last night.

Potato, Cheddar and Chive Soup, With or Without Bacon

4 large potatoes, peeled and sliced (I used baking potatoes)

4 cups chicken STOCK

2 large garlic cloves

1 cup shredded cheese (I used 1 and 1/2 cups, a mix of Gouda and Sharp Cheddar)

1/4 cups chopped fresh chives

1/8 tsp cayenne

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 tsp onion powder

1 cup heavy whipping cream

 

Cook the potatoes in two cups of stock in the crock pot. Cook on high for 2 hours, or until potatoes slide off a fork. Transfer 2/3 of the potatoes and ALL of the cooking liquid in a blender. (I had to do this in two batches.) Add garlic to puree. Return the potato and garlic puree to the slow cooker. Add shredded cheese, chives, seasonings, and 1 cup of the remaining stock. (Use the rest of the stock if the soup needs to be thinned later.) Cook on low for 45 minutes. Stir in the cream and cook on low for 15 more minutes. Sprinkle with more shredded cheese and some bacon and serve.

 

Steakhouse Steaks

 

I bought 4 filets, about 8-10 oz each and pretty thick, about 2 inches. I used a brush to coat the top, bottom and sides with olive oil, then sprinkled all surfaces with sea salt and coarse ground black pepper and left out to get room temp.

Photo courtesy of my Blackberry.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. (Here you will need to turn on your vent, your ceiling fans and open your kitchen windows.) Put a cast iron skillet on HIGH heat for five to seven minutes, so it gets VERY hot. Sear evenly on all sides - top, bottom, sides - for 1.5 to 2 minutes on each side. When all sides of all steaks are seared, place them all in the skillet and put a pat of butter on top of each one. Put in the oven for 8-12 minutes. I used a little thermometer and took my steaks out at 130 degrees, which is medium. The butter will crust on top AND melt down and let the steaks sizzle in their own juices. Remove from the oven and cover for 10 minutes with foil before eating.

 

Corey tried to tell me I could never make these steaks again, even though they are divine. Craving Ruth's Chris but can't spent $150 on dinner for two? Make these! I think I'm going to reserve a repeat of Steakhouse Steaks for the rare cool and breezy weather that rolls through Baton Rouge, when throwing your doors and windows open is pleasant and not painful. At least the kids were warm, in the clean-aired second-floor bedroom.

 

Oh, I almost forgot the part of the story where I set the stove on fire. See, what happened was that when the steaks went into the oven, I needed some counterspace, so I put the crock pot, which was finishing the soup, on the stove. I did not put it ON the burner I had just turned off, but I apparently put it TOO NEAR that burner, because there was a POP! and then smoke and then I picked the crock pot up off the stove and there was FIRE on the stove. I yelled "COREY! FIRE!" and then blew the fire out. Cydney complimented Corey on his quick reflexes. It would seem the the stovetop melted the feet and the cord on the crock pot, and the cord caught fire. I had to throw the crock pot away.

 

A lot of kitchen equipment was hurt in the making of Steakhouse Steaks and Potato Soup, but I stand by my decision to make both 150%. It's that good. Please don't let these unfortunate events deter you from making this. I trust you to use better judgment than I did. You know, the judgment I'll use next time I try to make this. In March.

 

Completely unrelated to cooking but totally fun, Corey was eating a snack bag of chips thirty seconds ago and is now sound asleep in his recliner with his headphones on and his computer in his lap. The boys went to Beaumont last night before the weather got bad, so they're having grandparents' weekend this weekend and we're going to sleep late and not wear pants. Call before you come over.

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