What do you get when you cross a Fortunella margarita with a Citrus aurantifolia?

A limequat. If nothing else, it’s a ton of fun to say the word limequat.

I’ve played with kumquats (Fortunella margarita) before and I adore the small Mexican limes (Citrus aurantifolia), but I’d never even seen a limequat until my friend (and Edible Phoenix editor) handed me a bag of them a few weeks ago.

She grows them in her backyard, and apparently they’re prolific little suckers because she was handing them out like candy to goblins on Halloween.

Because the whole fruit is edible (but please save yourself the excruciating, mouth-twisting experience of eating one raw), limequats are perfectly suited to jams, chutneys and pies.

I’m not much of a jammer, and we have one of best kumquat marmalade makers at one of our local farmers’ markets (Carol’s Delectable’s from Snowflake, AZ), so I decided to preserve these gift orbs, like Moroccan-style preserved lemons.

I gave them a bath, sliced them in half and juiced them. I had about two pounds, and needed all of the juice to cover half the rinds.

Turns out, that while I don’t make jam, apparently I do make compote (I cooked the remaining rinds with some sugar and spices and voilà! a compote).

Now, if I had taken the time and trouble to put the compote into sterilized jars and sealed them in a water bath, I could honestly say that I am a jammer. But I did not — because I’m not a jammer. Certainly not like Mrs. Wheelbarrow.

I used the compote immediately as a garnish to grilled halibut, and thought to myself, this would be great with chicken, too, or even in a wild rice dish. Maybe even in a smoothie (yeah, I’m crazy that way.)

I divided the rest up into disposable containers and handed them out to my neighbors, like Halloween candy, with a note that said to use it up within a week or two.

Back to the preserved limequats. With half the rinds (yes, you have to pick out all the little seeds, what a pain in the…) and all of the juice from two pounds of limequats, I added a generous tablespoon of salt.

I could have added some spices had I been thinking clearly, like a bay leaf, maybe some peppercorns and/or cinnamon stick and whole cloves.

But I wasn’t, so I didn’t. C’est la vie.

I did add another half cup of Key lime juice so that the limequats were completely covered in juice, and sprinkled another tablespoon of salt on top.

I stuck the jar in the fridge and let it sit for a couple of weeks, shaking the container every now and then.

Every few days, I plucked a half limequat out of the salted juice broth and tasted it.

The texture really didn’t change much until the second week. It was already fairly soft, but after two weeks, it was noticeably softer than the first day.

So I have a jar of preserved limequats ready for anything.

Now what? Got any ideas?

Tags: Edible Phoenix, how to preserve limequats, limquats, preserved limequats
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 4 Comments »

Farmers’ market parsnips are a great find — that is, if you can find them. Depending upon where you live, you’re more likely to see them at a grocery store.

Grocery store parsnips are bagged just like carrots and they even look like pale, cream-colored carrots. They taste far sweeter than carrots — so sweet that some people serve them at breakfast.

This fall/winter root vegetable is best after a frost, when the starch is converted into sugar. Low in calories and zero fat, parsnips provide a good dose of fiber and Vitamin C.

Parsnips can be boiled, baked, fried, steamed or sautéed. About the only way they aren’t served is raw.

My favorite way to prepare parsnips is to steam them and then puree in a blender for an ultra smooth texture.

Many recipes for pureed parsnips call for potato in addition to the parsnips to cut the sweetness, but I like the sweetness of pure parsnip puree. I’ll use toppings to counterbalance the sweetness, or pair them with bitter winter greens like collard greens or mustard greens.

Count on 1-1/2 to 2 pounds of parsnips to serve 4 to 6 people. First peel the parsnips and then cut them into rounds.

Place them in a steam basket and steam over salted water until tender, about 20 to 25 minutes. Save the steaming water.

Place 1/2 cup of the reserved steaming water in the bottom of a blender. (You could use cream or even buttermilk, which will temper the sweet taste of the parsnips).

You can also puree the parsnips in a food processor or run them through a food mill. Or, mash the steamed parsnips by hand or with a hand mixer.

I’ve found using a blender results in the creamiest texture, although it requires a bit more work.

You may need to add more water and stop the blender several times to scrape down the sides.

Add a pinch of salt and freshly ground white pepper and blend again. A dash of nutmeg wouldn’t hurt either, and helps bring the naturally nutty taste of parsnips to the forefront.

Once the parsnips are pureed, you have several options. You can serve them plain, or you can top with a variety of other ingredients.

Grated Parmesan cheese or cooked, chopped bacon add a salty counterpoint to the sweet parsnips. I’ve topped them with horseradish, too, for a sharp bite. Or, top with toasted, buttered bread crumbs for a crunchy element.

Pureed parsnips will keep for a few days, covered in the refrigerator, if you want to make them ahead of time. Just gently reheat in a pan over low heat, or in the microwave.

Tags: how to cook parsnips, parsnip puree, parsnips, steaming
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 2 Comments »

Do not adjust the color on your monitor. That cauliflower is indeed, that yellow. It’s called a “cheddar cauliflower.”

You’d think I wouldn’t care for cauliflower since it’s in the same family as Brussels sprouts. But so is kale, and I love kale.

I must like cauliflower. I keep writing about it.

I especially like this orangey-yellow cheddar cauliflower. Not because it tastes dramatically different than white cauliflower — it doesn’t. I like it because it’s colorful.

I decided to steam it, puree it, and pair it with sun-dried tomatoes and Parmesan. Cauliflower is bland by itself, so it needs strong flavors to perk it up.

I prefer steaming over boiling when making vegetable purees. Why?

The resulting puree is less watery. Boiled vegetables take on a lot more water than what’s naturally present in the vegetable. Steamed vegetables don’t.

A food processor won’t puree the mixture as smooth as a blender, but you’d need a lot more liquid than what I’m using here to get a blender (even a Vita-Mix) to puree this mixture.

If this was The French Laundry, we’d be pressing this puree through a tamis for an ultra-smooth puree.

Fortunately, it’s just Chef Gwen’s kitchen, and we’re not going to that much trouble. The food processor will do a good enough job.

Minced sun-dried tomatoes with fresh parsley and put a dollop on top. You could mix it right in, but it looks prettier as a garnish. Just because we’re not a top restaurant doesn’t mean we don’t want our food to look good, right?

Either way, it tastes way better than plain old steamed cauliflower. In fact, it tastes just like a fancy-schmancy restaurant side dish.

Pureed Cauliflower with Sun-Dried Tomatoes & Parmesan

Serves 4

Ingredients
1 head cauliflower
1/4 cup chicken or vegetable stock
1/4 cup grated Parmesan
2 or 3 tablespoons heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, drained and minced
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

Method
1. Cut the cauliflower into florets. Steam until tender, about 15-20 minutes.

2. Place florets in a food processor. Pour in stock and puree. Scrape down sides.

3. Sprinkle with Parmesan, drizzle with cream and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Puree again until smooth, stopping to scrape down the sides of the bowl once or twice.

4. Return puree to a pan and gently reheat over low heat until hot.

5. Taste and add more salt or pepper if desired. Portion onto four plates and garnish with sun-dried tomatoes and parsley.

Tags: cauliflower, cauliflower puree, cheddar cauliflower, side dish, sun-dried tomatoes, yellow cauliflower
Posted in How To..., Recipes, Side Dishes, Tips & Tutorials | 1 Comment »

I am a sucker for anything gourmet. Unusual ingredients are a particular weakness (see bamboo rice.)

It all started with a tweet from a Seattle chef I admire and follow on Twitter, @ChefReinvented (Becky Selengut). She was catering a party for 60 and tweeted her menu, including this little gem:

Seared wild U.S. prawns with tangerine dust, New Mexico chiles and smoked paprika aioli.

Tangerine dust? All of a sudden, I’m fixated on getting my hands on some tangerine dust.

A quick glance around the kitchen and I spot a 5-pound box of  Cuties®. So they’re not tangerines, but I thought, why not?

For the record, tangerine is much sexier sounding than cutie.

The Cutie is a type of mandarin orange — a Californian clementine — as is the tangerine, the satsuma and the Dancy.

Cutie Dust just doesn’t have the same ring as Clementine Dust. Or Tangerine Dust for that matter.

The clementines need to be sliced whisper-thin, but after a few, painfully slow slices with my knife, I quickly figured out I had better things to do with my Sunday. I dug out the mandolin.

Technically it’s a Japanese Benriner, the only one I’ve found (sorry France and Germany) that slices food so thin you can see through it.

Adjusting the mandolin to cut as thin as possible, each clementine produced 10 or 12 slices, not counting the first couple of slices or the last little bit, as I stopped before I sliced my finger tips off.

Funny thing, this particular mandolin has the words “watch your fingers” printed in English and Japanese.

I’m guessing that the Japanese words say the same thing. They could say something entirely different, like “we only printed the English words ‘watch your fingers’ for the careless English-speaking people, but we know you, our slice-savvy Japanese customers, know when to stop.”

Or something like that.

I laid the slices in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet and stuck them in a 200ºF. oven for about 3 hours.

If you don’t slice them as thin as I did, it might take a little longer. They should be brittle when they come out of the oven, but don’t let them get too brown or they’ll taste burnt.

At this point, they make a nice little potpourri garnish. Throw in a couple cinnamon sticks and call it a day.

But I was after the culinary profit of dust, so I crushed a handful and put them in a spice blender with a big pinch of sugar and small pinch of kosher salt.

Chef Becky had warned me that they might be bitter without cutting with a little something. This is especially true if using thicker skinned tangerines instead of thin-skinned clementines.

Several grinds later, a pretty powder:  clementine dust.

It looks like ground ginger, only brighter. The taste? Intense. Like an orange to the 10th degree. Exquisite.

Four clementines yielded 1/4 cup of powder, er, dust.

I’m thinking about making some more, stashing them into little spice tins to give to friends for Christmas and Hanukkah.

Dusting scallops with this angelic powder just before searing sounds like a fabulous idea. So does mixing it into a dry rub for ribs or maybe adding a teaspoon to a vinaigrette to punch up the flavor.

What do you think about adding a teaspoon or two to a pound cake or muffin batter? Or maybe sprinkling on top of ice cream, or folding a teaspoon into whipped cream?

The possibilities are endless…and flavorful and fragrant.

Tags: Clementine oranges, Cuties, dehydrating oranges, Japanese Benriner, Mandarin oranges, mandolin, orange dust
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 36 Comments »

Two reasons why you shouldn’t buy pre-ground cardamom:

1) It’s expensive

2) It has a shelf life shorter than Bruce Willis’s singing career

Granted, it’s a pain to grind your own, but the payoff is in the taste — and the aroma.

Grind only as much as you need for your recipe. A tablespoon of pods should yield two teaspoons of ground cardamom, give or take.

I know what you’re thinking, and no, you can’t just grind the whole pod. Unless, of course, you’re the type that doesn’t peel ginger before grating either.

But really, who am I to judge? I grew up eating Frito Pie.

Toast the cardamom pods in a dry skillet over medium heat for 2 or 3 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally, if you really want to intensify the flavor.

Place the cardamom pods in a mortar (or just put them on a cutting board) and smash with a pestle to crack open the pods.

Spread the cracked pods out, so you can pick out the shells and discard. Don’t drive yourself to drinking by trying to get every last little shard of shell. This is good enough.

The seeds are rock hard, so instead of putting them back into the mortar, I put them in my spice grinder (just an old Krups coffee grinder I retired from coffee grinding and use only to grind spices now).

Whirl the seeds in the grinder for 30 seconds or so, just until you have a fine powder.

Remove the lid of the grinder and watch everyone within 20 feet swoon with ecstasy. Fresh ground cardamom is the most fragrant spice ever, and it has been known to make me weep with joy.

Please don’t skip over recipes that call for cardamom, thinking it’s too expensive. I bought a 3-1/2 ounce bag of green cardamom pods at an Indian grocery for $2.29. The pods will last for at least a year, maybe longer.

As tempting as it might be to grind a bunch at once — don’t. That defeats the purpose.

Besides, don’t you want to watch everyone fall to the floor when you lift the lid off the spice grinder? That only happens when you grind your cardamon seeds fresh from the pod.

More information about Cardamom:

cardamomspice.com

Some recipes sites that feature Cardamom:

cdkitchen

simplyrecipes

savorysweetlife

If you have a recipe that calls for cardamom, please share — just leave a link in the comments.

Tags: cardamom, green cardamom, how to grind cardamom, spice grinder, spices
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 16 Comments »

Pomegranates are much tougher to spell than to peel and seed.

How do you get from this gorgeous, tough skinned orb with a trumpet shaped stem to a plate of sparkling rubies that burst sweet tart juice in the most meager of drops?

First slice off a 1/4 inch from the top and bottom.

(This sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It’s not too different from supreming an orange, up to this point, which is why I wrote that post first. Or that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

Next, score the pomegranate five or six times, from the top to the bottom. I score in between the seed clusters. To score, you slice just through the skin — no further, from top to bottom.

Peel back the skin, and break the pomegranate into sections.

It’s not a bad idea to have a couple paper towels handy to wipe up the magenta juice that splatters here and there.

Drop the sections into a large bowl of cold water, and gently start massaging them between your fingers. The seeds will fall to the bottom of the bowl, while the pithy membranes float to the top.

Scoop off the floating pith. Might want to swish your hands around a few times in the seeds, just to coax a few more clinging pith skins to give it up and float to the surface.

Finally, strain the seeds in a colander. Now they’re ready to use anyway you see fit — and they will keep in the refrigerator for a week or two.

Garnish salads, desserts (lovely on bread pudding or pumpkin cheesecake) or even on guacamole.

Pomegranates are in season between late October and early February, but peak season is now.

I picked one up for $2 at a local grocery store, and saw a package of fresh peeled seeds for — gulp — $6, which is one reason why I seed them myself.

The other reason is purely nonsensical. I just like the way they feel in my hands.

Tags: how to seed a pomegranate, pomegranate
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 11 Comments »

Those silly Frenchmen. They come up with the fanciest names for the some of the most pedestrian techniques. A “supreme” is nothing more than a section. Here’s how you do it.

Cut off the top so that the orange flesh is visible. It might be 1/2 an inch, or slightly more if the pith is especially thick.

Now cut off the same amount from the bottom so that the orange sits flat.

Now cut from top to bottom curving the knife to the shape of the orange. Repeat all the way around until all you have left is a bright orange, fleshy ball.

Next, cut in between the white sections, placing your knife as close to the white membrane as possible, and slicing to the core. If you follow the membrane, you’ll see that you’re cutting out wedges.

And there you have it: Orange Supremes.

Why would you want orange supremes? Because they’re purdy. Oh, I guess I should say joli.

Tags: how to section an orange, how to supreme an orange, orange, section, supreme
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 11 Comments »

I could have titled this post simply: “How to Cook Beans” because, with a few exceptions, there isn’t much difference from one dried bean to the next in terms of cooking.

You soak (or not — hence the exceptions), simmer, and voila! Cooked beans.

What else is simmered along with the beans is up to you…and the bean.

Calypso beans are either black and white, or red and white. Don’t get too attached to the striking contrast, because it fades dramatically with cooking.

Calypso beans hold their shape if you don’t cook them to death. That said, I’ve found they need about two hours, even though I’ve see cooking instructions calling for as little as an hour. It probably depends on how fresh they are (dried beans have a “freshness” but it’s difficult to gauge, because there isn’t a “freshness” date on the package.)

They taste similar to the Italian white cannellini bean, only a little nutty, if a bean can be nutty.

(Technically a bean can be nutty. Take the peanut, for example. The peanut isn’t really a nut at all, it’s a bean — or legume if we want to get fancy with our nomenclature.)

Regardless of what we call it, the dried beans can be soaked overnight, or softened with the quick soak method:

• Cover beans with 1-inch of water
• Bring to a boil, then turn the heat off
• Cover and soak 1-hour
• Rinse in cool water, drain, and proceed with recipe

While the beans are soaking, prep all your other ingredients. I’m using an onion and garlic, and of course, I need some kind of fat to saute those aromatics in — bacon fat — which hopefully doesn’t come as a big shock to anyone.

It’s a well documented fact that bacon and beans are the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers of the culinary world (you think I just make this stuff up, don’t you?)

I chop the bacon (or in this case,  thin-sliced, cured and smoked pork loin — Irish Bacon (Rashers) — from a local pork producer) and slowly render out the fat over medium heat.

You can reserve the fried bits to sprinkle on top of your finished dish, if you don’t eat them all waiting for the beans to cook — not that you would do that.

Since these Calypso beans taste like cannellini beans, I add Italian Herb Mix from Penzey’s Spice Co.

A quick two hours later, the beans are tender and ready for salt and pepper.

I don’t season my beans until the end. Most chefs don’t, but I read somewhere that salting the beans in the beginning won’t make the beans tough. Old habits die hard, so I still wait until the end to season the beans.

Taste the beans after 1-1/2 hours. That might be all they need. If some are soft but some are still too toothy, cook another half hour. Now you can season your beans with salt and pepper. You can also throw in some fresh herbs, if you’re so inclined.

And that’s it.

But now what do you do? You can serve a bowl of beans for dinner, maybe with a slice of hot buttered cornbread, or served them as a side.

You can cool them and use in salads. These beans go particularly well with canned tuna.

If you save the cooking liquid, you can even turn them into a soup by pureeing the beans with just enough of the cooking liquid to get the consistency of a creamy soup (but without the cream, of course, unless you’re so inclined.)

We have no hard and fast rules around here.

Calypso Beans

Serves 6

Ingredients
1 pound dried red or black Calypso beans
2 tablespoons bacon fat
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 teaspoons minced garlic (about 2 medium)
7 cups cold water
2 teaspoons dried Italian herb mix
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (optional)

Method
1. Soak the beans overnight, or use the quick soak method outlined above.

2. Drain the beans and rinse with cool water. Set aside.

3. Heat the bacon fat* in a large sauce pat or small stock pot over medium heat. Stir in the onions and garlic and stir, cooking just until the onions and garlic are fragrant, about 2 minutes.

4. Add the beans to the pan, plus 7 cups of cold water. Turn the heat to high and bring the beans to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer.

5. Stir in dried herbs. Simmer, uncovered, until beans are tender, but not mushy, about 1-1/2 to 2 hours.

6. Remove from heat and season with salt and pepper. (Don’t be stingy with the salt unless your doctor told you to, in which case, ignore me.) Stir in fresh thyme if using.

*If you don’t have a jar of bacon grease stashed in the fridge, take 2 or 3 slices of bacon and chop into very small pieces. Cook the bacon, slowly, over medium heat until crispy. Spoon out the bacon bits and you should have enough fat to saute the onions and garlic.

Tags: Calypso beans, how to cook beans, Penzeys, side dish
Posted in How To..., Recipes, Side Dishes, Tips & Tutorials | 1 Comment »

By now you’ve heard/read/absorbed-by-osmosis that the miniature sugar pumpkin, not the behemoth “jack-o-lantern” pumpkin, is the pumpkin to use for making pie…that is, if you’re not opening a can of pumpkin puree.

These dinky “pie” pumpkins are about the size of a small cantaloupe (only more squat) and weigh roughly two pounds, give or take a few ounces.

My “demo” sugar pumpkin is 2-1/4 pounds. Approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes later (and a little elbow grease), I have almost 2 cups of roasted, pureed pulp…not to mention almost 3/4 cup of raw pumpkin seeds. For comparison, it’s about the same amount of puree in a 15-ounce can. Except, alas, with canned pumpkin, there are no bonus pumpkin seeds.

The skin of a sugar pumpkin is extremely hard, which is why some people tend to forgo cutting it altogether and roast it whole.

I cut them because I want to harvest the seeds to toast later for a snack. And, I have nightmares that the darn thing will explode in the oven, forcing me to spend the rest of the evening cleaning up the mess while my sister puts on glass slippers and flits off with my Prince Charming.

It takes careful knife work to cut one of these babies in half. It’s much easier to carve a pumpkin for Halloween.

I use a sturdy chef’s knife (one with a pointy end, not a santuko) and I don’t get in a hurry. First I cut the stem off. Then I stick the pointy end of the knife in the top and push down, repeating several times to make a larger and larger slit. With some brute force, the knife eventually works through the flesh, perhaps even causing the pumpkin to crack, making it easier to rock the knife back and forth.

[FINE PRINT: For goodness sakes, be careful if you decide to cut up your pie pumpkin. The knife could slip and hurt somebody -- proceed at your own risk.]

If you have any reservations at all, have your Prince Charming do the cutting part.

Once I’ve cut the pumpkin in half, I cut each half in two. It’s much easier to scrape out the seeds from quarters.

Later, while the pumpkin is roasting, I put the harvested seeds in a large bowl of water and start squishing the pulp to release the seeds. The pulp will sink to the bottom and the seeds will float.

It will take a couple changes of water to get the seeds completely clean. They’re slippery little suckers.

(By the way, Jess Thompson, a poignant food writer, has a lovely post about harvesting the seeds with a recipe for spiced pumpkin seeds.)

Place the cleaned pumpkin quarters on a lined baking sheet. I brush them with a little olive oil so they don’t dry out too much, but if you’re oil-adverse, skip it and just brush them with some water.

Place the baking sheet in a preheated 400º F. oven and roast until tender, about 35-40 minutes.

Once the pumpkin is fork tender, remove and cool. Then scrap out the pulp.

It will look a little stringy. (Hey, even Cinderella needed a fairy godmother.)

The last step is to puree the pumpkin in a food processor. This, too, will take a little effort. Lots of starting and stopping, and in between, lots of plunging the pumpkin back down into the blades.

You know, Thomas Edison said “There is no substitute for hard work.”

Um, yes there is. It’s called canned pumpkin.

Roasted Pumpkin Puree

Makes 3-1/2 to 4 cups puree

2 sugar pumpkins (4-1/2 to 5 pounds total)
2 tablespoons olive oil (optional)

1. Heat oven to 400º F.

2. Cut the pumpkins in half and cut each half in two, for a total of four wedges.

3. Scrape out the seeds (save and clean for toasting later).

4. Place the pumpkin quarters on a lined baking sheet. Brush with olive oil (or water).

5. Place in the oven and roast until fork tender, about 35-40 minutes. Remove and cool slightly.

6. Scrape flesh into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse, stopping frequently to scrape down the sides of the bowl, until the pumpkin flesh is mostly smooth.

NOTE: Pumpkin puree will keep for 4 days, covered and refrigerated, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Tags: homemade pumpkin puree, how to roast pumpkin, pie pumpkin, pumpkin, sugar pumpkin
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 14 Comments »

Before we get to the nitty gritty of pan-roasting corn, let’s just say that I was hoping to have a soup recipe for you, but “my best people” thought it was a girly soup.

You know, the kind that ladies-who-lunch sip on, cooing how delicious it is? Well, it is delicious, and if I’m honest, it is a bit frou-frou.

So while I lick my wounds and contemplate whether or not it’s worth your time, I thought I hold a class on how to pan-roast corn — which is probably a heckofva lot more useful than some sissy soup.

Why would you want to pan-roast corn? Because it’s easy to make, it’s versatile and it tastes phenomenally better than boiled corn, thanks to the caramelization of corn’s natural sugar content.

Here’s how you do it. Set a skillet over medium-high heat while you shuck the corn. You can use any skillet, but I prefer a cast-iron skillet because it really sears the corn.

Wash and pat dry the corn. Hold the ear, pointy end down inside of a large bowl, which will catch the kernels instead of sending them flying all over the counter. Use a chef’s knife (or a serrated knife if you prefer) and slice down one side of the corn.

Turn the corn a quarter turn and slice again. Repeat two more times, for a total of 4 cuts. The cob will resemble a squared-off rectangle when you’re finished.

The skillet should be nice at hot by now and you can throw the corn in — that’s right: no oil, no butter, no nothing. It’s a dry skillet (which is another reason I like to use cast iron because it can take the punishing heat without any fat.)

DON’T STIR. Sorry to shout, but this is important. You want the corn to spend some time browning, and stirring just spoils the fun. After a couple minutes, you can stir, gently, once, wait a couple minutes and then stir one last time.

It will take about 5 minutes total, to roast the corn, and it should look like the corn in the picture above.

If you cook much longer than 5 minutes, the corn will be overcooked. Remove the corn from the skillet once it’s done, and use immediately, or store in the fridge for a couple of days.

How can you use pan-roasted corn? Let me give you a few ideas to get your mind rolling on the infinite possibilities:

1. Top a girly soup (actually,you can add to any soup, girly or not)

2. Sprinkle on top of a fresh garden salad

3. Fold into an omelet

4. Serve as a side dish for barbecue chicken

5. Use as a filling for savory crepes, along with cooked shrimp or lump crab

Got any other ideas? Leave a comment and share.

Tags: cooking technique, corn, kitchen tip, pan roasting
Posted in How To..., Tips & Tutorials | 16 Comments »

The Great Ranch Cookbook

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