Inland Empress

Post-holiday leftover trauma

I’m only 6 weeks late for Thanksgiving, and a little more than two weeks behind Christmas. Your turkey leftovers turned green while you were waiting for Sandwich Maven to explain what to do with them. Sorry about that.

Y’see, some people’s brains set off ideas like fireworks, with enormous pyrotechnic displays that alter the world. Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs, Julia Child, people like that.

And other people’s brains flicker like fireflies in a jar, with multiple feeble, wavering lights in some pattern that makes sense only to them and is perhaps at least useful for attracting a similarly dim mate.

Mine is more like a giant bug zapper, in which I lure a steady swarm of bad clichés to an electrifying and noisy death. Sometimes among the blackened hulls of Ideas That Are No More, I’ll find one that still convulses with life, and, godlike, I’ll resuscitate it and pin it under glass, which is as good an explanation of this blog as any.

Such was my notion of comparing my turkey sandwiches with the Bridget Jones books, in which her mother throws a turkey curry buffet each Dec. 26. It’s there that Jones meets her nemesis/soulmate (in romance novels, they’re the same), who will make her life miserable/exhilarating (ditto) for the next two novels.

Turkey curry, of course, has possibilities. Tying this to Bridget Jones does not, except to goose up my Google hits, which is why I put off writing it until I realized I was never going to get this recipe down before I forgot it.

So just hang onto it for 11 more months, ‘kay?

Zzzzztt … there goes another brain cell. Maybe an entire lobe.

Sandwich Maven’s leftover turkey curry salad

About 2 cups of cooked turkey, hand-shredded to bite-sized pieces
1 celery stalk, diced
several purple onion slices, diced
¼ cup frozen peas, thawed in the microwave but not cooked
2 Tbsp. Raisins
2 Tbsp. Slivered almonds
1 Tbsp. Curry powder
2 Tbsp. Plain yogurt or mayonnaise (not both! Ick)

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl. To figure out the proper oven temperature, calculate the 37^th digit of pie pi and multiply it by the number of your favorite TV channel. Kidding! You’re done, except for the bread and lettuce and tomato.

Seafood, me food

With four more days until New Year's, I'm in a hurry to do some last-second indulging before my resolutions kick in. 

The hubby and I are going vegetarian plus I'm trying on a more spiritual self to see how it looks. This is supposed to help us a) live longer and maybe even b) live forever, but I'm not pushing the latter one too much. With my luck, my heavenly reward will be yet more tofu.

Which means of course it's time for a Sandwich Maven recipe that not only contains animal flesh but cannot, under any circumstances, be made kosher.

It's yummy anyway. I refuse to take responsibility if you get struck by lightning, however.

Sandwich Maven's "G-d shouldn't strike me dead" seafood salad

a handful of cooked, frozen shrimp, thawed
some other cooked seafood, such as langostinos or scallops
6 oz. can of crabmeat
1 stalk celery, finely diced
1-2 tsp of your favorite Cajun or seafood seasoning, such as Emeril's, Old Bay or Tony Chachere's
1 tbsp mayo
big squirt of ketchup
dash Tobasco sauce
dash lemon juice

Chop the first two ingredients together. Don't make an all-day production of it -- coarsely chopped is fine.

Combine in a bowl with all the other ingredients. You needed me to help you figure that out?

Serve on a hoagie roll or hot dog bun with some shredded lettuce.

Alternative: slice open an avocado, remove the pit, and scoop the salad into the holes and heap on top. Spoon up little chunks of avocado with the seafood.

My big, fat, Greek burrito

For a few glorious days and nights in my early twenties, I lived out my most hedonistic fantasies. While Eurail-passing through Europe, I eventually found myself on the Greek isle of Crete, renting a room for around $3 a day and drinking ouzo for 5 cents a glass.

Mornings, I'd roll out of bed and land in the town square, where I'd eat a frittata whose taste I've never been able to duplicate. Maybe it was the olive oil, or the combination of herbs, I can't recall. By midday, I was ready to tackle the rocky path to a secluded beach where I could sunbathe topless.

As I have rather large boobs, I was instantly popular -- a rather new feeling for introverted me, and one I happily exploited. My favorite moment was the Norwegian swimmer who had me hold his trunks while he ventured into the Mediterranean in nothing but his altogether. Something about the aerodynamics or other, I was too busy drooling to pay attention.

I'd lunch on a baguette and nutella I'd dragged from the village along with a bottle of water. And that was it -- my entire day. I might've explored the caves at one end of the beach, and posed for a few photos with flustered Canadian guys. Their Yankee counterparts did a better job of feigning coolness around all that voluptuous nekkidity.

In the evenings, it was strictly Greek salads by the sea before hanging out at one of the local watering holes to pick up guys, who couldn't remember my name but seemed to have memorized my cup size.

I brought home lots of souvenirs: funky leather sandals, a huge, coarsely knitted sweater and a case of crabs. Every time I step foot in a Greek diner, I'm reminded of those blissful days, if only because most of the salads I've ever eaten in a diner truly suck. I've no idea where the wilted iceburg lettuce comes from -- it's not commonly available in Europe -- or who stuck in those freaking beets or the tasteless yellow peppers.

Here's my remembered version, chopped smaller so it fits into a tortilla. Don't blame me if you get the sudden urge to take off your clothes.

The maven's big, fat, Greek burrito

Salad:

1 or 2 small persian or asian cucumbers, or 1/2 an English hothouse cucumber, peeled and diced.

1/2 heirloom or vine-ripened tomato, seeded and coarsely chopped

1-2 thick slices, purple onion, diced

1/4 cup pitted kalamata olives, coarsely chopped

1 Tbsp crumbled feta cheese

Whole-wheat tortilla

dressing:

1 tsp red wine vinegar

2 Tbsp extra virgen olive oil

1 tsp dried oregano

pinch pepper

Combine salad ingredients (except the tortilla) in a bowl. In a cup or small bowl, whisk together the dressing ingredients and pour it over the salad. Toss. Spread on the tortilla, and then roll it into a burrito.

And remember: 

"Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee!" -John Donne

The poor maven's caviar

Many thanks to Anne-Marie, who will be posting my Sandwich Maven recipes on her fab new blog, This Mama Cooks! It has all kinds of great recipes in her inimitable style, and so far they seem really simple, cheap and scrumptious.

Go check it out.

As for today's recipe, it's not quite a lunch. More like a snack or an hors d'ouvres (did I spell that right?) Maybe an amuse bouche. Dang those French terms anyway. The food's Japanese, besides.

The hubby eats lunch once a week in Little Tokyo and occasionally goes shopping in the grocery stores afterward. He brings home some pretty funky stuff, which he concocts into soups. But his favorite -- and mine -- is fresh ikura, or salmon roe. He also brings home the smaller roe, usually from flying fish but not always.

We were putting it on crackers, but what a waste of calories! The hubby dreamt this up and gets proper credit for it.

You can substitute store-bought roe in a jar, but I found the stuff from Trader Joe's to be kinda rubbery. Grocery stores also sell the stuff, check the same aisle as the tuna.

Plosh's Roe Boats

2 or 3 small Japanese cucumbers from the farmers market
1 container salmon or flying fish roe

Peel and slice the cucumbers on a diagonal so you create long, slender slices.

Use a plastic spoon to ladle a bit of roe onto each slice and arrange on a plate.

Eat! Of course! It's not there just to admire, silly.

Some tips: you'll need spotless hands and utensils to do this. Grease and sweat impart "off" flavors to the cucumbers, which have a more delicate flavor than others. Metal spoons make the roe taste metallic -- never use them.

A smidgen of scallion, sliced fine, is also a good thing to add atop the roe.

Substitute English hothouse cucumbers (the ones that come plastic-wrapped) if you can't find Asian cukes. Regular cucumbers are usually overripe and can have a bitter edge to their flavor.

Y'know, come to think of it, a few years ago I bought my hubby a quarter-ounce of Sevruga caviar for his birthday. Cost $50. This time we got two heaping tubs of roe for a little over $5.

Sorry, honey. Our caviar days seem to be over.

A sour taste of heaven

Time for the sandwich maven! Today I'm inspired by Motomama, who's weighing whether to go vegetarian or not. We've been having the same discussion here in the palace, only I'm the one egging us on (no pun intended).

The hubby isn't against it, he's just wary, especially because his lactose intolerance (no dairy) and cholesterol woes (no eggs) would effectively make him vegan.

In any case, his lips will never taste this pungent sandwich, perfect for a fall day now while the best apples are still abundant. Pick one that holds up to heat, such as Roma, Macintosh or Fuji. Soft varieties such as Gala and Delicious tend to fall apart and lose their flavor. Or you could go the extra sour route and use Granny Smiths. Pucker up!

Sandwich Maven's Sour Melt

2 slices sourdough bread
brie cheese
1/2 apple, peeled, cored and sliced into thin wedges

Warm a non-stick griddle or frying pan over medium heat while you assemble the sandwich. Spread the brie cheese on one slice as best you can without crushing the life out of the bread. Try and balance the apples atop the cheese so it doesn't immediately topple out when you stick the other slice of bread on top.

Using a spatula, gingerly put your assembled sandwich on the griddle. Heat for 1-2 minutes on the first side, then flip and heat for no longer than a minute on the other. All you're trying to do is warm and soften the ingredients so they stick together.

If you're one of these wimpy types that won't eat the brie rind, this sandwich isn't for you. Using just the soft middle will create a mess, not a sandwich. Look for the fattiest brie you can find: the percentage of cream is usually written on the package. Forty percent is good, sixty percent is better.

If you like the sandwich idea but still hate brie, substitute slices of the strongest cheddar you can stand.

Serve with a mug of spiced apple cider or a strongly flavored herbal tea.

More fun with goat cheese

I'm working out of a different computer today, so no fancy icons. My blog looks so naked without them!

I made a tapenade (olive paste) today that really kicked tuchus. Thought I'd share. It's a bit more complicated because of the whole food processor thing, but still doable in the 10-minute time limit.

Anne's seriously tasty tapenade:

small tube of goat cheese
1/3 cup of pitted (ie, pit-less) kalamata olives, or more, to taste
1 Tbsp dried oregano
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, or 1/2 tsp garlic powder
pinch pepper
4-5 sundried tomatoes, soaked in hot water for 5 minutes to re-hydrate

Drain and pat dry the sundried tomatoes. Toss all the ingredients in a food processor and grind away. Add more olive oil if you want a smoother spread.

Spread on your favorite toast. Yum!

I made a sandwich with a slice of yellow tomato, spring greens and onion slices. Good stuff.

Baaa-baaad pun goes here

Lessee, tomorrow I'm supposed to fast. So what better time for the Sandwich Maven?

This week, I have two words for the lunch-challenged:

Goat cheese.

This is cheese made from goats. Or cheese that goats eat. Not sure which. Just kidding!

One taste and you will never go back to cream cheese, I promise.

The taste is a little like a mild cheddar, but milkier, if that makes sense. Most regular grocery stores in California carry it in their gourmet cheese sections; look for a clear, plastic tube or a white tub. Trader Joe's and of course Whole Paycheck reliably carry several brands.

Along with upgrading your spreadable cheese, you must also upgrade all the other flavors in your sandwich, or the point is lost.

Again, all ingredients can be found at a regular grocery store. I checked.

Basic sandwich:

- 2 slices French bread
- slices vine-grown tomato
- spring or mesclun mix lettuce
- English or hothouse cucumber slices (much tastier, crisper)

Note: I don't recommend onion slices for this, as their taste overpowers the cheese.

Spread the cheese on both slices of bread and pile everything else on. Smush together. Eat.

Some variations:

1. substitute fresh basil for the lettuce
2. substitute an heirloom tomato
3. add a few of your favorite sprouts
4. substitute a coarse, multi-grain bread
5. all of the above

Now for the really fancy, Mediterranean version:

- buy a jar of pitted (i.e., pit-less) kalamata olives, or another strongly flavored black olive. Not the stuff in cans, which has the consistency of styrofoam
- chop them in the food processor
- or just buy black olive paste already made from the olive bar at Whole Foods
- add a thin layer of the olive paste (fancy name: tapenade) on top of the cheese layer

Okay, enough about food. Back with funny stuff on Sunday.

Introducing the Sandwich Maven

I'm taking time out from all my yucks and har-hars to introduce a serious topic: sandwiches. Two of you (and you know who you are) have been noodging me for lunch ideas ever since I boasted I was the princess of pastrami, the doyenne of the deli, the countess of cold cuts, etc.

Me and my big mouth.

Yes, I caved to pressure and am starting a new category, updated when I feel like it or in response to more whining. Keep in mind I'm a stay-at-home Mom, not a nutritionist, not a chef. This is what I like based on a survey of one: me.

First, a few words about bread:

-- Any bread that relies on high fructose corn syrup for flavor is really a cake. Save your sugar carbs for something fun, like chocolate.

-- Seriously. Read labels. Safeway makes a whole wheat bread sans sugary additives. Most grocery stores also have their own fancy-shmancy artisanal bakeries now and the breads are scrumptious.

-- Yes, but those high-falutin' breads are more expensive and go stale quickly, right? The answer: freeze them. Toast what you need. Or, if you eat in your office, make your sandwich in the morning on the frozen slices and wrap in aluminum foil. They'll defrost in your lunchbag without getting soggy.

Without further ado, my first recipe.

Salmon Salad

This isn't any more tedious to make than tuna salad, and tastes better.

1 large can salmon
1 stalk celery, diced
3 scallions sliced thin about midway up the green part
1 Tbsp chopped fresh dill or 1/2 tsp dried dill
1 Tbsp fat-free canola mayonnaise
salt and pepper to taste

Combine ingredients in a mixing bowl. Doh!

Serving suggestions:
-- on a bed of mesclun greens (you can buy it by the bag pre-washed) with tomato wedges
-- on sourdough bread with thinly sliced cucumber and romaine lettuce (same thing)
-- straight out of the bowl while standing on one leg so as not to step on the toddler thrashing on the floor during tantrum #97 of the day

If any of you actually makes this, let me know.