Wednesday, February 8, 2012

365 Days of Low-Carb Living - 1

The lovely stuff that makes Outrageous Snapper outrageous. Just make sure your snapper is FRESH!
Starting from the bottom left: Greek olives,  garlic, cilantro, fresh lemon, sliced bell peppers, diced sun-dried tomatoes.

Outrageous!
That's how I described the red snapper in a dinner I cooked in January 2005, the year I kept track of everything I ate. That's right. Nearly 365 days of methodically recording breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. I stopped a couple weeks short of a year, which may be testament to my sanity. Am I really that boring? Sheesh.

However, I was then, and am now, a carb-conscious gal, and that's basically what this one-year food diary was all about. I also reported highlights of daily life, random thoughts etc., as well as recipes. (Kinda like my blog, huh?)

Nobody else was privy to my observations then, however, and I was not shy in rating the snapper meal a multi-cultural melange, a totally accidental gourmet dinner, and super good! Outrageous!

I've recently revisited these odd notebooks and am amazed and puzzled at what I wrote. I've decided to try to re-create some of the dishes I described with superlatives, such as the outrageous snapper,  and also to revisit a few of my thoughts. One never knows whether one's thoughts are worthy until revisiting them. Even then, it's dicey, which is a also good cooking word.

Ok, so one recent evening, because of wanting to recreate some of the 2005 recipes, I was really groovin' in the kitchen. Tunes were pulsating on our new sound system, my notebook was opened like a  cookbook next to the stove, and I was chopping and sauteing and dancing around. I think it was the Subdudes. Or maybe Ghostland Observatory.

Passing through the kitchen,  PK noted my excitement. What was so I doing? he asked.
I am trying to recreate THIS! I said. And I pressed into his hands the notebook turned to the page with the Outrageous snapper. Super Good! recipe.

He read the two pages and solemnly put the notebook on the kitchen counter.
Then he said, Can I tell you something? You're not going to like it. 
This is PK's way of being subtle and preparing me for a bomb.


Ok, say it! I got ready. Bristling just a little.


Ok. I will. You shouldn't be praising your own cooking!

I love this. PK would never praise anything he did,  except maybe that he fathered and helped raise two unbelievably great young men. (There I go again with my superlatives! Totally deserved, of course.) So for me to praise my own cooking in my private food diary was offensive. That's just how he is.

I love him anyway. I remember when he grew the best apples I have ever tasted, no exaggeration, and when people came to buy them, he said things like, Oh, don't take that one. It's probably got water core. Or,  Oh, the apples picked last week were a lot better.  Or,  You'd do better just to go to over to the supermarket and buy your apples. 
As a salesman, PK fails.

And so it embarrasses him that I would comment even to myself about the virtues of something I've cooked or created. I admire his humility, a trait he passed along to our aforementioned utterly amazing
two sons. I don't think of myself as a braggart, but I can't imagine suggesting a recipe (or a whole way of eating) that I didn't think was at least good, at best, great.

What I'm going to do is try to ignore him and tell you how to re-create some successful low-carb cooking experiences. To be honest, the outrageous snapper I made recently did not rate the superlatives I gave it seven years ago. But! I believe that has totally to do with the fact that I did not use fresh fish as specified by the recipe.

The weak link in my recent snapper dinner—the snapper!
It looks good, but not fresh and unworthy of the rest of the ingredients.

BTW, I had NO recollection of cooking this meal, so I was forced to follow my own directions. I commiserate, therefore, with those who have requested further direction on certain other recipes. I defend my position that altering recipes here and there matters little. You don't run to the store if you're lacking an ingredient. (Unless you're baking,which low-carbers do very little of)

However, when a recipe calls for fresh fish, use fresh fish! Not previously frozen and kinda grey looking—and the only snapper left in the case—as I did the second time around. Grrr. I should know better.

Here are recipes for the snapper and the cabbage.
An unlikely, but delicious, accompaniment: curried caramelized cabbage.
I'm not taking credit for either. The Indian curried cabbage came from Fran McCullough's book, the Low-Carb Cookbook, a great resource. The snapper may be credited to another low-carb author, Dana Carpender, as I have relied on her books a lot through the years. Or maybe I snagged it from the Internet. I'm pretty sure I wasn't smart enough to come up with combining the salty Greek olives with sweet dried tomatoes.

Outrageous Red Snapper
1 - 2 T olive oil, halved
3 fillets of fresh (!!!) snapper
1/3 cup chopped sundried tomatoes
1 medium green bell pepper, sliced into strips
1/2 large lemon
1-2 T minced garlic
1/2 cup coarsely chopped pitted Greek olives
1/2 bunch of cilantro
salt and pepper to taste

Directions
Lightly saute garlic and peppers in half the oil, two minutes max
Add tomatoes and olives and squeeze in half a lemon
Heat the mixture through and remove from pan. Set aside.
Add remaining oil (if you need it) and fry the fish in the same pan. You want the fish to be just barely cooked through. Squeeze remaining lemon on and season fish with salt and pepper.
Return the veggie/olive mix to the pan and gently settle around the fish. Heat through and serve with curried cabbage. If you don't care about carbs, serve with brown rice.

Curried cabbage
Melt a couple T of butter in a large non-stick skillet and stir in a little curry powder.
Thinly slice half of a large head of cabbage and mix into the butter and curry. Cover and cook on medium heat until wilted, stirring occasionally. Uncover and cook, stirring frequently, for about a half hour or until cabbage begins to caramelize. Add more curry and/or butter to taste, and salt and pepper.

3 comments:

  1. Sounds really good and I will try it but probably with halibut as I have more access to that. (I trade boarding a big ol' red retriever for fresh fish from her fisherman human.)

    Is Paul Canadian??? They all think I'm a horrible braggart if I even think of mentioning something I did that they see as positive or above average. (This is especially true if they happen to know I'm an American because, of course, all Americans are egotistical assholes.) I don't get it. To me, I'm stating a fact and don't think about editing for possible misinterpretation as boastful content. Conversely, false modestly rubs me the wrong way.

    I say "OWN those extraordinary apples, Paul."

    Of course, blowhard obnoxious braggarts are another matter.

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  2. grace! thank you so much for commenting on so many posts! i just now discovered this.
    i can't even tell you how much i, and other writers, appreciate knowing that somebody reads their, uh, stuff. (i could say drivel, crap, sophomoric musings, pure shit etc.) i did write a post once called "crisis of confidence" and despite how many years i've been offering opinions and observations in print (i wrote a personal column in the grants pass newspaper for a decade or so) i never quite get used to the idea of exposing myself for ridicule and derision. yet i do it again and again.

    anyway, it really is great to be re connected and to discover our common dietary path. i still haven't looked at wheat belly, but will do so soon.

    here are a couple things i remember about you....lessons.
    you put fish heads into the corn row. those were the days, huh? salmon to burn - or help out with the crops. i have been known to freeze fish parts to put into the garden. last summer, though, something came thru and ate some really rank stuff i'd buried out there.
    you stir fried some kind of oriental meal. you cut up the veggies and separated them, cooking them in the appropriate order for tender/crisp. i have done that ever since. i now saute the meat first and remove from the pan. i'm sure you did that too.

    i also recall that you took great time, pleasure, and pride in your pies! i haven't made a pie for years (except a couple low-carb cheesecakes with almond or hazelnut crust.) but i never could get that lattice thing down.

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    1. Entirely Inappropriate and Unlady-Like Bragging Alert:

      Oh, Mary, I became such a baker! I have two tales of just how lofty were my accomplishments. At one point, whilst working at the second establishment in Portland where I plied my trade as a pastry chef/baker, I was dating the owner of the place, Del Pearl. He and former wife, Stephanie, had started wonderful Excelsior in Eugene and were were Big Name people in the food scene of the PNW. I often took care of their two daughters, Leah and Katya and the girls liked me, which rubbed Stephanie the wrong way, even though she and Del had long been divorced and both had had other relationships. Stephanie went to school at the Sorbonne and lived in Paris, poor child. So, one day after I'd finished doing my baking shift for Sunday brunch, I was changing out of my apron in the hallway outside the office where Stephanie was talking with someone. I heard her say that the croissant and brioche she'd had that morning were the best she had ever eaten. She didn't know I could hear her.
      The other story also involves Del and that same restaurant, Delevan's. I no longer remember the name of the winery but we were hosting a tasting for a man, a minor Italian royal of some ilk, who was traveling in the US, promoting his vineyards. He had lunch at Delevan's, which included my bread and desserts and possibly hand-made sausages. After lunch he asked Del to tell me that he wished to offer me the position of baker at his country estate in Tuscany. Of course, Del didn't tell me until the man was safely out of the country.
      I used to make a batch of about 100-150 croissants at one go. I did it by hand with a gigantic rolling pin (which I still have) and a lump of dough that covered a 3'X6' stainless steel table. My fellow baker, Mary Donnelly (A Sagittarius), and I would carry it in and out of the walk-in cooler together like a stretcher. God, I loved baking. We produced a wonderful baguette and supplied 6 different desserts for the restaurant every day-3 full time bakers. I started out as the apprentice and became the head pastry chef. It was a wild time. Before that I did all the baking for a chi chi deli in Portland called The Elephant Delicatessen. I worked alone from midnight to 9 AM in a big bakery with a mixer we called Mr. Hobbart. He had a hydraulic lift because the bowl was too heavy to move by hand. I always used to have these fantasies of someone coming in to work in the morning, finding me mangled and all mixed in with the dough. I was 28-30 then. My training chef was an amazing woman, probably the best all-around cook I've ever met and one of the most lauded chefs in both Portland and Seattle, Susan Vanderbeek (A Sagittarius). I hope these stories don't sound too boastful. At this stage of my life, remembering and telling about them is akin to describing someone else's life, a movie I saw or a book I once read.

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