Archives for December 2014

the ham of Christmas past…

December 26, 2014 by Convivial Boar Leave a Comment

Black bean and ham soup garnished with avocado, parmesan, and truffle oil

Ahh, the days after Christmas, a time marked with the peace of a well-celebrated holiday, reflections of a year nearly spent, visions of a year about-to-be —and ham aplenty (if such is possible).

Here are a couple of ideas for enjoying the leftover holiday ham.

Back bean and ham soup

Don’t throw away that bone! Or if you did already, go steal your neighbor’s. No matter how meticulous you are, meat is left on the ham bone every Christmas. This soup makes use of the ham-bone and saves you from spending more time picking at the bone —or worse wasting good ham! –and don’t forget the sacrifice that a certain convivial creature made to provide that ham!

ham-bone in pot

Ingredients:
Left-over meaty ham-bone (mine this year was a peppered ham)
Black beans (I used a one pound package. The beans need to either soak overnight or follow instructions for fast-soaking)
Olive oil (enough to coat bottom of pot)
One onion (I used yellow, diced)
Garlic (I used about five cloves, diced)
One red bell pepper (diced)
Tomato paste (I used about three tablespoons)
One dark beer (I used a winter lager)
Bay leaves (I used two, and discarded before serving)
Dark chocolate (I used four 70% cocoa morsels)

Coat the bottom of a large, heavy-duty pot (I used the insert from my slow cooker) with olive oil and heat the pot on medium-high. Saute the onion, garlic and red bell pepper until soft (ten to fifteen minutes). Add the tomato paste and stir to incorporate with vegetables —allow the vegetables and tomato paste to brown for another five to ten minutes.

Deglaze the pot with the bottle of dark beer allowing it to come to a boil and cook off the alcohol. This takes five to ten minutes –and presents an excellent opportunity to season yourself with a nice winter lager).

Add the pre-soaked beans to the pot and enough water to cover. Add the bay leaves. Allow beans to come to a boil. Next add the ham-bone to the pot (you may have to trim for it to fit). If needed adjust water level.

Cover the pot and cook for at least four hours (I actually cooked mine for more than twenty hours on low in my slow cooker). When the beans are tender, remove the ham-bone.

Bring the beans back to a boil uncovered (note if using slow cooker, place insert on stove top for this step). Allow the liquid to reduce until it is thick and dark (I allowed mine to reduce for about 30 minutes). Add dark chocolate and allow to simmer a few minutes more to incorporate the chocolate.

diced ham ready for soup

Meanwhile pull all of the meat from the bone (most all of it falls off after that long cooking). Dice the meat into very small pieces.

Once the liquid is reduced to your liking, remove the bay leaves and add the diced ham back to the pot.

Allow to simmer on low for at least another 30 minutes (I let mine sit for a spell longer, presenting another self-seasoning opportunity).

Just before serving, I garnished the soup with grated parmesan cheese, avocado and black truffle oil.

ham, artichoke and cranberry salad on water crackers

Ham, artichoke and cranberry salad

Ingredients:

Ham (diced, I had about six cups)
Red onion (diced, I used one medium sized)
Red bell pepper (diced)
Celery (diced, two stalks)
Marinated artichoke hearts (diced, I used approximately fifteen hearts)
Dried cranberries (diced, I added about a cup)
Zest of an orange
Dijon mustard (about two tablespoons)
Juice from an orange
Honey
Oil (I used a french walnut oil but a good olive oil will also work)

To assemble the salad mix the ham and vegetables together. Whisk the Dijon mustard, orange zest, orange juice, honey and oil together –tasting until you like the flavor (my goal was for a light citrus note followed by the sweetness of the honey). Pour the dressing over the ham and vegetables. Mix everything together well, and then gently fold the dried cranberries into the salad (I’ve found that adding them earlier causes their color to run all over everything else).

Serve the ham salad as sandwiches, with crackers, or as part of a green salad.

Enjoy the peace (and the ham), my friend.

The lore of the Christmas goose…

December 22, 2014 by Convivial Boar Leave a Comment

Boar’s garnished Christmas Eve Goose with roasted vegetables

Sometimes lore alone can sustain a tradition. Such was the case for me and the Christmas goose. All of my life, I have associated goose with Christmas, yet my first taste of this salty-fleshed fowl was on the eve of Christmas —just four years ago (and every Christmas Eve since).

How is it that the lore made it to South Arkansas, but the goose did not? Hmmm, let’s explore that a bit.

To start, the Boar is a fan of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Like a well-brewed winter lager, Ebenezer Scrooge seasons the holidays with just the right amount of bitterness. But not everyone appreciates the need for bitter during the Christmas season —take the wife-of-the-Boar for example, she proclaims that she prefers her holiday sans bitter. And when I grumble about Christmas lights, shopping, and other non-feasting aspects of the holiday, she calls me “Ebbie” —of course, by inviting me along for these outings what she is really saying is that she would like her serving of bitter on the side. But I digress, back to Dickens and the Christmas goose…

No doubt, Dickens is responsible for much of the lore about the Christmas goose, for he writes of its succulence in describing the pitiable plight of the Cratchit family and remarks how rare even that most affordable of birds is at their table. Interestingly, at the time of Dickens, goose was a very economical food-source, and turkeys were thought as extravagant, that’s why when Scrooge embraces the spirit and seeks to make an amends with the Cratchit family he sends for the big turkey —not goose. I bet the miserly Scrooge would “hum-bug” a few times at the price of a goose today…and my, my, what would he think of our hormone induced, beach-ball sized turkeys?

But the intertwining of goose with Christmas began well before Dickens dipped his quill in ink. In 1588 Queen Elizabeth I ordered all of England to eat goose for Christmas dinner in celebration of England’s victory over the Armada because it was the first meal she enjoyed after the Navy defeated Spain’s ships. So, the people of England were force-fed goose for Christmas —a bit ironic given that we now force feed geese to produce foie gras.

In ancient Egypt, goose was the symbol of the creator-god named “Amen.” Some believed that the universe itself was hatched from a “cosmic egg” produced by this deity —perhaps the inspiration for the fabled Goose that Laid the Golden Egg. As you might guess, a feast of goose in this time was a feast of symbolic and religious importance.

So, from the pen of Dickens, by decree of Queen Elizabeth, and through deification of ancient Egyptians, the lore of the Christmas goose has been propelled through the ages and across the globe —even to my cozy hamlet in South Arkansas. Now, let’s put it in the oven…

unadorned roasted goose

Geese hatch in the spring and are right for eating at eight or nine months old—making them perfect for Christmas. Geese are smaller than turkeys and the meat is much darker and richer. Unlike a turkey, the fat content of a goose makes it very unlikely that the meat will dry out during roasting.

Before cooking the goose, as with all fowl, you need to wash it thoroughly. The skin needs to be pricked several times to allow the fat to cook out during roasting. (I use a wooden skewer for this purpose).

Note that if you want to prepare a stuffing to be cooked with the goose, you will need to coordinate those preparations with the roasting of the goose. Sometimes I stuff and sometimes, I do not. This post focuses only on the goose.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

I like to season the goose with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper including inside the cavity. Next I stuff the cavity with citrus (lemon, orange, or tangerine) and herbs (sage, rosemary, thyme).

Place the goose (breast side up) on the rack of a large roasting pan. Add enough water (or other liquid) to the bottom of the pan so that when the fat cooks out of the goose it will not burn.

Roast the goose with oven at 450 degrees for thirty minutes (this helps darken and crisp the skin). Carefully baste the goose with the fat and liquid from the pan. Reduce the temperature to 350 degrees and continue roasting for about twenty minutes per pound. I like to check on (and baste) the goose about every forty-five minutes. The goose is done when the juices run clear at the joints when punctured with a skewer.

Let the goose rest for at least fifteen minutes before carving.

Once the pan cools, be sure to retain the goose fat (liquid gold). The goose is good, but the fat is the prize. You can find many uses for the goose fat. My preference is to use it to roast potatoes and other vegetables for my Christmas Day Brunch. I also hear it is great for pancakes…

You can serve the goose dressed in elaborate garnishment, stuffed or unstuffed, or simply as unadorned lore of the season.

Devour the lore this Christmas, my friend.

Piglet’s loaf…

December 14, 2014 by Convivial Boar 1 Comment

Sirloin Meatloaf, Cheesy Mashed Potatoes, and Roasted Kale

Holiday feasts are all the rage this time of year. As you might imagine, the Convivial Boar partakes liberally… But in the midst of lavish holiday feasting fare, it’s good to take a break and feast on the more, shall we say, ordinary. And nobody prizes a feast-of-the-ordinary more than the Nearly-Convivial Piglet shown below.

Piglet displaying his feast

Meatloaf and mashed-taters are high among his favorites. So, not surprisingly, as he began his feast-making journey this is where he wanted to start.

Despite meatloaf’s popularity throughout history (the origins of meatloaf can be traced back to Ancient Rome), many feasters are less than enthusiastic about the dish. Often the mere utterance of the word “meatloaf” repulses feasters as they are confronted with visions of ketchup-laden images of their youth. And who can forget Arthur (played by Dudley Moore) slurring the blessing, “I’m thankful I got the smallest piece of meatloaf.”

Suffice it to say, meatloaf is not every feaster’s favorite. Indeed, many feasters seem to fear the loaf. But, why? Could it be how it is presented…does this description conjure any memories?

“The Chef is proud to offer his special meatloaf tonight. The ingredients of the loaf feature an array of secret, chef-choice items —only he knows what they are. The overall composition of the loaf is delightfully soggy while the meat retains a slight rubbery-chew texture. Scattered throughout the loaf are rough-chopped and undercooked vegetables providing a sporadic unidentified crunchiness. And the meatloaf will be presented this evening as a free-form blob glistening with a cold, masking, layer of ketchup.”

Sounds delicious, doesn’t it my friend? Stop trembling, here are some suggestions from a recent meatloaf prepared by the Nearly-Convivial Piglet—or, “Piglet” for short.

Part of the fun of meatloaf is that it can use as many or as few ingredients as you desire, but the feast-maker should be proud of what goes into the loaf and be ready to wax eloquently to feasters about the specially selected ingredients. The most fearful of feasters can be coaxed into relaxing a bit by an enthusiastic and knowledgeable feast-maker. Piglet practically assaulted his feasters with information about what went into his loaf —I will leave it to others to say whether he was eloquent or not.

Express your creativity through the loaf —rigidity is one of the few unwelcome ingredients. While nearly every meatloaf involves ground meat, it does not have to be simply ground chuck —any ground meat (or combination of ground meats) can be used. Some of our favorites are venison, buffalo, and sirloin (note: we prefer to use lean meats because less fat cooks out helping reduce the sogginess of the loaf). For the loaf pictured above, Piglet opted for ground sirloin.

Fillers are needed to keep the loaf from becoming too dense. These can include cracker crumbs, breadcrumbs, Panko breadcrumbs, rice or even oatmeal. Piglet used gluten-free Panko breadcrumbs.

Vegetables add flavor and texture to the loaf. For his loaf, Piglet added onion, red bell pepper and celery. The key is to dice them very finely to ensure proper cooking (or if you want them bigger, sauté them before adding to the loaf). Piglet is a precision dicer.

Notice: No Piglet Fingers Were Harmed In The Making Of This Feast

Piglet also likes to add garlic and herbs (typically, rosemary and thyme), and for seasoning he keeps it simple with kosher salt, fresh ground black pepper and chili powder. He also added a few splashes of worcestershire sauce and eggs to bind it all together —one of Piglet’s favorite parts is jumping in with both hands and mixing it.

After all the ingredients are fully incorporated (including Piglet’s hands, sleeves, pants, and surprisingly, face), Piglet placed the mixture on a large foil-covered rimmed baking sheet. It is important to use a baking sheet larger than the loaf so the moisture and fat can cook out of the loaf —again, reducing the sogginess factor by some degree. Piglet formed his loaf by hand-patting the mixture down and then using his hands to square up the sides until it formed a flat-topped rectangular shape about two inches tall —note the loaf should be fairly uniform shape so that all parts will cook evenly.

Piglet cooked his loaf at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes. The cooking time will vary depending on the meat used and the thickness of the loaf. You want it cooked all the way through but not overcooked as that leads to the rubbery-chew texture —so don’t put it in the oven and forget it. We check ours for proper doneness by using either a meat-thermometer or just slicing the loaf in the middle and inspecting (that was Piglet’s approach).

Lastly, a loaf can be served naked or with a topping-sauce —Convivial Boar Rule #7: when in doubt, get saucy!

This is where Piglet and I part ways a bit. He prefers the ketchup topping, and I prefer to create a sauce du jour. One of my favorite toppings for meatloaf is a black pepper sauce: I sauté onions until nearly brown in olive oil, dust them with flour —then cook the flour a bit, deglaze the pan with dark beer, bourbon, or scotch, add beef broth and lots of fresh ground black pepper (maybe even add the juices from the meatloaf pan —who am I kidding, always add them).

But, alas, this was Piglet’s loaf so we employed the much-reviled technique of point the bottle and squeeze (I looked away during this part). I did talk him into putting the loaf back in the oven for about ten minutes to let the ketchup brown a bit —it needed to settle, and I needed, well you know what I needed…

Piglet’s meatloaf feast was spectacular, but the best part was seeing his smile and knowing that he felt pride in the creation of the feast!

Exalt the ordinary, my friend.

Archives for December 2014

Back bean and ham soup

Ham, artichoke and cranberry salad

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