Posts Tagged ‘Thanksgiving’

23
Dec

Unrecipe for Kefta

   Posted by: Ashley Moreno    in Food

Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve just finished eating a week’s worth of Thanksgiving leftovers, coupled with the fact that we’re gearing up for Christmas dinner with it’s requisite ham and the cheesey goodness of broccoli-rice casserole, but my kids and I are finding that American fare is holding little appeal for us these days.

My kids are fairly adventurous eaters. Okay, so Ethan gags if he doesn’t like a certain texture, Ramie “just isn’t a bread person,” Mason’s diet consists of maily beige and white, and Riley goes vegetarian a couple of times a year. But I’ve introduced them to a wide variety of cuisines from all over the world with surprisingly favorable results.

Last week, as we were staring at a freezer bag filled with the last of the turkey chowder, Riley, Ethan, and I looked at eachother and, as if the thought emanated from the freezer along with the cold air and wafted into our ears and then our brains, we declared in unison, “Kefta!”

Kefta are mediterranean meatballs that can be found from Morocco to Persia (okay, not actually found, as in–oh, looky there! Kefta, right behind that rock! You know what I meant). And they happen to be one of our favorite meals.036 In fact, Ethan has declared on more than one occasion that kefta is definitely his favorite meal, most recently about 2 hours ago, as we were scarfing down on a delicious lunch of kefta, couscous, flatbread, and tabouleh.

 

I always believed my version was Moroccan–I gleaned the basics from an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, which was perfect for me because there was no technical “recipe”: he basically just narrated as the cameraguy filmed an old man in Marakesh making it.  Then I met a young man from Morocco at the Moroccan pavillion at EPCOT and talk quickly turned to–you guessed it—kefta. He chided me for not using egg in my recipe. “The old Moroccan guy on tv didn’t use egg,” I told him. He shook his head at me. “You must use egg. After you let the meat sit, before you roll it, then you mix it in.” So I do…sometimes.  Truth is, I’m not crazy about the feeling of raw dead cow between my fingers—it’s a necessary evil if I want kefta—and then to add raw egg on top of it, GACK! 

Last year I met another Moroccan chef who told me that if I put mint in my kefta, then it’s not Moroccan–it’s Persian. Hold the phone—the old guy on tv used mint. The Moroccan guy at EPCOT was cool with the mint. I like mint—dare I say, I LOVE mint. So I’m not sure how authentic my recipe is, but it works for us.

So here, for your culinary delight, is my UNrecipe for kefta.  Consider it my Christmas gift to you!

KEFTA

2 lbs. ground meat—beef, lamb, or some combination of the two (I use beef. Riley once raised a lamb for an ag project. In case you’re not familiar with Ag projects, they culminate at auction, or ‘market.’ When the nursery rhyme says, “This little piggy went to market,” I don’t think she went shopping for a new pair of shoes. Riley knew from the outset that “auction” meant “pass the mint jelly,” and she insisted that she was totally okay with that…until the word “SOLD!” exited the auctioneer’s lips, at which point she commenced with the wailing. She wailed for weeks. And to this day, when we go eat mediterranean food she makes me verify with the server that there is no lamb in whatever she orders).

Oh—don’t use pork. Just don’t. I mean, it’s your kitchen and all, but if you use pork you are definitely not making Kefta. And if you DO ignore my imploration and use pork anyway, don’t invite your Moroccan (or Persian) friends to come sample the Kefta you just made (which is not really Kefta). Seriously, it would be a really, really bad idea.

Okay….meat. Check. Next:

Herbs: 1 bunch parsley, 2 bunches cilantro, 2 of the small herb clamshells of fresh mint. Chop them all up finely. If you use the food processor, you can just add the seasonings in as well.

Seasonings: garlic, cumin, coriander, paprika, cayenne pepper. That question that’s on your mind right now—the answer is, “Heck, I dunno. How much do you want to use?” I go really light on the cayenne, because E & Ra can’t handle too much spice.

Oh–salt. Don’t forget salt. Use your best judgement.

Mix it all together with the meat. Refrigerate for about an hour, a couple of hours if you have time. At this point, you have to decide whether you’re going to go with my buddy from EPCOT, or with the old guy on Anthony Bourdain. Today, I didn’t do the egg. It worked out fine. Maybe if you’re using really lean meat, you should listen to my Disney buddy and go for the egg.

SAUCE: 

2 large cans crushed tomatoes

garlic powder

coriander

cumin

salt

paprika (I like a lot. I’m not sure why, it just seems right)

cinnamon (just a sprinkle. Maybe….1/8 tsp?)

Mix sauce ingredients in a big cookpot on the stove and heat. Oh–I forgot, this is a really big batch, so you might need to divide the sauce between 1 pots, & put half the meatballs in each. Or you can just stack them. Either way.

Make meatballs, add to the pot, and simmer covered. I dunno…30ish minutes? 45? You’re probably a better judge of that than I am—I have no concept of time.

If you were a real Moroccan making these in Morocco, you’d use a Tagine, which is a conical clay thing that kind of steams stuff. I don’t have one. I really want one. If you ever happen to be in Morocco and you’re trying to decide what to bring me as a souvenir, there’s an idea for you. Just give me a heads up so I can have all the ingredients on hand when you bring it by, so I can whip up a fresh batch to thank you. ;-)

Serve with couscous. I don’t have a teriffic couscous recipe. I make the kind that comes in the box. I don’t love it. I love real couscous, the kind with raisins and some savory sweet spice that I as yet have been unable to identify. If you have a stellar couscous recipe and feel like sharing, I would totally love that.

Oh–and flatbread. You have to have flatbread to sop up all the glorious sauce. Toufan makes a decent flatbread that you can probably find near the pitabread in your store. Technically, it is pita—not the dried out “pocket bread” pita that you stuff with tuna and sprouts. If your grocery store doesn’t carry it, find a Greek restaurant (or mediterranean if you’re so lucky as to have one nearby) and ask them if they’ll sell you a couple of packages. My local Greek restaurant sells them to me for about $4 a package.

Merry Christmas! Enjoy your Kefta!

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1
Dec

…and called it macaroni….

   Posted by: Ashley Moreno    in Parenting, random funny stuff

 

Black Friday.

Nothing about that sounds good.

I’ve managed thus far in my adult life to avoid Black Friday like…well, like the Black Plague. As much fun as waking up at 3 a.m. with a tryptophan-hangover after spending three days cleaning and cooking to fight for parking and risk ending up in the middle of a soccer-mom-smackdown over this year’s version of Tickle Me Elmo sounds, it just isn’t happening for me.  

See, I’m just not a stuff person. Which is sorta hard to believe if you’ve ever been in my house, because my house is full of stuff (RIP, George Carlin). But that’s another post for another day. When it comes to the allocation of resources, I’ll take making a memory over amassing merchandise every time. I guess I’m really more of an experience person. And the experience I covet the morning after Thanksgiving involves an ancient Texas Longhorns blanket and a hubby whom the 6 year-old has trained to make her eggs just the way she likes them.

My cousin is one of those crazy people economy-minded individuals for whom Thanksgiving day is merely the fuel-up for the main event. I’ve asked her if the deals are really worth it. She swears they are. So this year, especially with all the talk of how the economy is prompting retailers to make more drastic price cuts than ever, I decided to take a look at a few flyers and maybe—just maybe—consider braving the fray in the name of frugality.

Turns out, if I needed a big screen, flat screen, HD plasma TV, the deals are astounding. Same thing if I needed a fancy phone that thinks it’s a computer, or a computer capable of running the space station. Top of the line appliances are a steal. And I could save a bundle on a 3-carat diamond tennis bracelet with matching earrings.

Now, something occurred to me as I flipped through the ad: unless the rest of consumer-America is a whole lot more generous this time of year than I am, for the most part the deals everybody is rejoicing in aren’t gifts—people are buying this stuff for themselves.

I could probably use a new tv. A sweet friend gave me her old one to replace the ancient one in my living room that requires a 2-minute warm up period before turning on the receiver. I have 2 tvs in my bedroom–a little one that works, and a big one that doesn’t work, but that we haven’t gotten rid of because we fully intend to get it fixed instead of spending the money to buy a new one.

My cell phone elicits silent pity from at least two of my brothers-in-law. It’s just a phone. It used to aspire to be a camera, and tried on many occasions to impress me with its photographic talents as I tried in vain to convince it to please just be a phone. That is, until I unwittingly (or maybe half-wittedly) erased the camera function while trying to program the alarm clock function. I think it was motivated by revenge on the phone’s part. But I figure if my $30-bottom-of-the-barrel-just-a-cell-phone outsmarted me, I have no business working my way up the cellvolutionary ladder.

Another woman might take advantage of the savings to replace the dishwasher that sprung a new leak the day the original leak was fixed—the same dishwasher that decided Thanksgiving day would be a great time for the latch to break. Did you know that dishwashers are equipped with a safety cutoff that prevents them from working when the latch breaks? Did you further know that there’s just about nothing that can’t be fixed—at least temporarily—with duct tape?

A new food processor would be nice, considering the fact that my old one balks at having to process canned corn. Dang thing’s only 17 years old, for cryin’ in a bucket—I’m fairly certain I can get another couple of years out of it as long as I have a wooden spoon long enough to reach down and give the blade a little help getting started. The extra fiber would be a bonus.

Which brings us to jewelry. I like a nice piece of bling as much as the next gal,  but lucky for The Hubby I’m fairly low-maintenance in that department. I’m just as happy with a cheap piece of costume jewelry–even happier, because the thought of wearing a bauble that cost more than my August electric bill frankly makes me a little queasy.

My most prized article of jewelry was absolutely free. 010It was a gift from Riley when she was five years old, and it has the added value of being the only piece of my wardrobe that Mason could eat without causing problems with all his food intolerances. Pasta. A beautiful pasta necklace in autumnal shades of orange, blue, and green. I’ve worn it every Thanksgiving season for the past 10 years. I wouldn’t trade it for all the pearls in China. 

 

 

I’d just about convinced myself that Black Friday held no promise for a non-stuff person like me, which meant that once again the only thing Black I’d be seeing on Friday would be the inside of my eyelids. And then I saw it—the top item on Riley’s Christmas list, marked down from $99 to $66. Pretty attractive deal, but was the savings worth the trouble?  Whether or not I thought so, plenty of other crazies shoppers were bound to. What if I waited, and they sold out? I looked at the ad. Riley really, really wanted it. I looked at the clock: 2am already. No way could I get up at the crack of dawn as tired as I was.

My fingers found their way up to my neck, to the macaroni necklace she made me….

SCORE!!! The LAST one in the warehouse, bay-bee, and it’s MINE! Oh yeah, I’m a rock star, I got my rock moves—–

Alas, I was done in by macaroni. I have to admit, there was an awesome feeling of satisfaction as the store employee emerged from the double doors with “the item” in hand. The small, waiting crowd of other hopeful shoppers wilted a little in disappointment when they heard they were out of luck. I tried to look truly sorry as I consoled them, my kill loaded securely in my cart like an 8-point buck in the back of a Chevy Silverado. But don’t count me as a convert just yet. Next year, I’m totally sleeping in….

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