The Cooking Critic

There are some recipes that you will glance at and consider every time you thumb through a cookbook, yet they will never make it to your kitchen table. Honestly, I thought that would be the fate of Hearts of Palm Salad. It was interesting, but didn’t seem interesting enough to purchase ingredients I normally don’t. While I like to try new foods, I’m also keenly aware that I don’t know what I’m doing when I work with them, nor do I really know what to expect.

Then came a five-day stint with my family in Mississippi where a kind neighbor with a poultry farm (yes, I know someone who owns a poultry farm) treated us to chicken ‘n dumpling, chicken Tetrazzini and chicken salad sandwiches. I loved indulging in the heavy Southern foods, but by the time I came back to California, I was ready for something light and leafy. Once more, Hearts of Palm Salad caught my eye. Since I bore easily when it comes to salads, the idea of adding of an unusual ingredient like hearts of palm was actually appealing, and really only more so because I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Strangely, it is what it says it is, which is the heart of cabbage palm tree—its edible core that looks not unlike a bamboo shoot. They come canned since fresh is nearly impossible to find, and since they’re soft and perfectly straight, it’s hard not to feel like a pro when chopping them up.

The flavor of hearts of palm is much like an artichoke. In fact, if you can’t find or don’t want to pay for the sometimes pricey hearts of palm, a marinated artichoke makes a good substitute. Still, I prefer the palm’s heart because it’s not as pungent. It’s got the tang without the overkill, and the texture is nice and soft with no worries about chewiness that the marinated artichoke sometimes troubles me with. Not to say the artichoke is generally troublesome. Normally I find him quite sophisticated and charming. But you don’t have to work as hard with hearts of palm who’s always laid back and never fussy. You get all the class but none of the stress of feeling like you’re socializing outside of your bracket.

Adjustments: The recipe calls for “salad herbs,” and I’m not sure if this was a vague suggestion to use whatever herbs you feel go with a salad or if there were a specific set of herbs designated for salads or maybe even a product, like jarred fines herbes. A quick Internet search provided no conclusive evidence, so I used fresh dill, which tasted good.

Assessment: This is a flavorful, spunky salad that’s not substantial enough to be a main dish but is a great accompaniment to just about anything because of both its taste and the ease in assembling it.

If you take a look at my last few posts, you’ll see I’ve been subsisting on cheese, brunch foods and dessert. I suspect my recent eating habits don’t make for a well-balanced diet. As much as I wish brunch foods and desserts had their own little slot on the food pyramid, it’s probably best they don’t. I blame my food intake for my feelings of sluggishness and general ickiness and determined it was high time I ate a salad.

Evidently the universe thought I should eat a salad too because the cosmos aligned so that I rediscovered a Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad recipe and happened to have all the ingredients already in my kitchen, surprisingly since shrimp, green beans and fresh dill are not normally staples for me. Therefore, I declare Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad a small miracle.

I went about chopping green onions and squeezing lemon with high hopes for this salad. I suspected it would be exactly what I needed to combat the ill effects of my recent sugar overdose and taste fabulous. But immediately after thinking this, I determined I just jinxed my salad. There was no way it could live up to my unreasonable expectations since I do, in fact, have a habit of anticipating far more amazing things than is really fair for the object of my expectations. (Movies and boys are routine disappointments because of this.) But, I needn’t have worried–my expectations were met. The shrimp makes this salad substantial, the green beans add just the right crunch (had I not slightly overcooked them), the lemony dressing is zippy but balanced by the fresh dill. In short, happiness is a Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad.

Adjustments: I used cooked, frozen shrimp instead of cooking raw shrimp. So basically, I didn’t broil the shrimp for Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad. But this cuts the work you have to do in half (especially nice when your throwing this together for lunch, as I did.) It also means your eating a cold salad instead of a warm one, but that’s fine by me. Also, I added more lemon juice to the dressing.

Assessment: I am completely charmed by this salad and plan on having it again for lunch tomorrow. I wish I hadn’t halved the dressing recipe because I will want this salad again later in the week and will have to make the dressing again. Not that it was any trouble at all. The whole dish was easy, elegant and wonderful. If only life were like Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad.

There are few things in life more satisfying than a good dumpling. Actually, there are few things in life more satisfying than a mediocre dumpling for that matter. I make my dumplings with Bisquick, and I’m not afraid to admit it. They puff up nice and fluffy as you please, and I toss in a little parsley to throw people off the Bisquick scent. In fact, I bet you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my Bisquick dumplings and somebody else’s homemade dumplings. Actually, I’m sure some people could tell the difference, but I suspect those people aren’t reading my blog. Not now anyways. Someday they will. Some day THE WHOLE WORLD will be reading my blog. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! And I will hold them in thrall with my ruminations on dumplings. (You are getting very sleepy. You like dumplings. Dumplings are your friend.)

So while the Better Homes New Cookbook provided the base for this Chicken Stew with Dumplings (they even recommended I use Bisquick, more or less), Cooking Light provided some ideas for additional flavor, so I’m citing them here. Cite your sources, people! Don’t plagiarize like my students like to do sometimes. Boo, plagiarism!

Adjustments: I sautéed fresh celery and onions and garlic instead of using frozen onions, frozen vegetables and garlic powder. Dill was my fresh herb of choice for this dish since I had some around. And add 2 tablespoons of sherry at the end for additional flavor.

Assessment: Not the most amazing Chicken ’n Dumplings I’ve ever made but good, and I felt very, very comforted. I make this dish differently every time, but I think my most successful rendition (and also the most time-consuming) took heavily from Emeril’s TV Dinners, which uses heavy cream, made-from-scratch dumplings and fresh jalapeños, among other ingredients—I hear he likes to kick things up a notch.

Patti Dixon, friend of my mother’s and all-round great lady, first introduced me to Tomato-Dill Soup. Tomato-Dill and I (as I call him now for short) hit it off right away. In fact, I was so intrigued by Tomato-Dill, that I nearly risked not meeting all the other delicious characters that were a part of this particular progressive dinner. I went back for thirds of this soup—no joke—and this was during the appetizer segment of the evening, so there was still a lot of food to go. Luckily, the servings were small, and I didn’t spoil my dinner. But at that moment I didn’t care. I was willing to throw out the window everything my mother ever told me about spoiling my appetite to be with Tomato-Dill. I felt that strongly.

A couple years later, Tomato-Dill and I are still on speaking terms but have never been able to recreate that same magic that was there on our first encounter. I blame myself. I’m easily distracted by other soups; I didn’t make an honest attempt to nurture my relationship with Tomato-Dill; and when I created the soup from scratch myself, it just didn’t taste as good as Patti’s, quite frankly.

I’m not sure what Patti does to her soups, but I suspect it involves witchcraft. My mother claims it involves sweet onions instead of brown or white. This could be the case too.

Adjustments: Since I had fresh thyme around, I used a tablespoon of it instead of the teaspoon of dried it called for. (I assume it’s calling for dried. When a recipe doesn’t specify, that’s usually the case, right?) But that’s the standard conversion: 1 tablespoon of fresh herbs equals 1 teaspoon of its dried counterpart. Also, I put in way more than 1 tsp of sugar. Forgot how much, but just do it to taste.

Assessment: This makes a lot of soup, and it’s a bisque, by the way. I thought about giving some to Adam, vegetarian and neighbor, but then it started raining, and I wasn’t about to walk down the street in the rain. Then I got sick and this led to the natural conclusion that I should hoard all the soup to myself and eat it for every meal, which I did. It might not have tasted as sublime as when Patti made it, but it still tasted good and felt excellent on a sore throat. Reunited at last!

Dill Dip isn’t the most memorable food. People eat it with their veggies, enjoy it, but it’s not as if a few days later they’re telling someone, “I had the most amazing Dill Dip the other day.” Dill Dip is doomed to live a life in the shadow of the preferred Ranch Dressing. Such a shame, because Dill Dip is infinitely more interesting and complex than Ranch Dressing. Ranch Dressing may be the head cheerleader and Homecoming Queen of the dip world, but Dill Dip will end up going much further in life.

Assessment: So easy, so good. Besides serving with vegetables, you can smear this on a BLT, or create a tuna salad sandwich with it.

Tim McKeon asked me the other day what my favorite meal was. I replied that was like asking which is your favorite child. He seemed to think both were legitimate questions. So I told him, I’m really into making Cream of Celery Soup these days. He nodded, said nothing, then turned around and started speaking to someone else. I think he was disappointed with my answer.

This recipe was made only because of the extra celery in my refrigerator one day, and I tell you, celery will never go bad in my house again. I want to jump up and down with joy when I realize I have enough celery left over to make this soup. No. Really.

Adjustments: I got this Cream of Celery Soup recipe online (hit the link and scroll down till you spot it), and the fellow who posted this version credits Joy of Cooking for the inspiration. The recipe doesn’t say to heat the soup up after adding the milk, cornstarch and cream, but you need to, so it will thicken and be warm. I assume everyone wants their soup warm. Also, a healthy dose of salt makes it taste good.

Assessment: I love it. And so do Mom and Dad. It’s easy too. But I’m afraid my picture won’t help enliven Cream of Celery Soup’s undeserved boring reputation, but I’m posting the pic anyways.