Goodbye, Oprah: Comfort Food You Wouldn't Approve Of

I won't lie: I'm not an Oprah fan. I don't mean that as in I don't like her, I mean very simply that I am not part of her fan club, and I don't regularly watch her show. Nevertheless, I understand the momentousness of the fact that Oprah will not be a television staple anymore: whether you want to or not, you have to admit that she is a media icon that has not only shaped popular culture but has made some lucky artists, writers and everyday people incredibly famous.
So even though I am not part of the Oprah fan club, this blog post is dedicated to all my friends and acquaintances whose lives became a less awesome because Oprah is retiring. Instead of telling you to buck up, I'm going to do something very un-Oprah-esque: recommend super carb-heavy, creamy comfort food.
Last week I said that the pork tenderloin is my favorite recipe in Savoring Chelan, but it is very closely followed by Fire Pasta.
The Fire Pasta recipe came to me from Campbell's Resort in Chelan, but its fame did not start there. The Fire Pasta sauce was originally found on Breasts of Fire, a chicken breast dish served a Gucci's, a well-loved but now defunct restaurant and bar in Chelan. In all of its incarnations, it is a local Chelan favorite, and was once made for me on a second date as a way to sway my affections. (It worked).
Fire Pasta is not for the weak of tongue: the main sauce ingredients are Frank's hot sauce and >>swoon<< whipping cream. (Perhaps you will best appreciate this meal if you are also a little angry that Oprah is abandoning you...I'm not a therapist, but perhaps the fiery heat could help you release your inner cranky abandoned child). It is very good if you saute some of your favorite vegetables, but the beauty of the Fire Pasta is that it is incredibly good with no other accompaniment than some bread to soak it up with and possibly a glass or two of your favorite wine. So goodbye, Oprah. Best of luck in all your future endeavors, and I hope you don't hold this comfort against me.

Photo by Richard Uhlhorn

Fire Pasta
Recipe contributed to Savoring Chelan by Troy Nesvacil, chef at Campbell’s Resort.

Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 15 minutes
Serves 4

One 12 oz. package pasta, preferably fettuccini or linguini
1/4 cup olive oil
3 cups chicken (1 pound), cut into 2-inch strips
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons pepper
3/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
1-1/4 cups Frank’s hot sauce
3 cups heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon red chili flakes

Hotel butter: whip the following ingredients until doubled in volume
2 tablespoons softened butter
1/4 teaspoon lemon juice
1 clove fresh minced garlic
Pinch salt and pepper

Garnish
Parmesan
Parsley

Prepare pasta according to package directions. While it’s cooking, sauté olive oil, chicken, salt and pepper in a pan until the chicken is browned on both sides. Remove the chicken from the pan; set aside. To deglaze, add the Worcestershire and hot sauce to the pan with the leftover oil; mix all ingredients until hot and blended. Add in the whipping cream and red chili flakes and add the chicken to finish cooking. Simmer the mixture until it is reduced into a thick sauce; adding 2 tablespoons of Parmesan will quicken the process. Drain the cooked pasta and toss with hotel butter first, then add in the sauce. Garnish with Parmesan and parsley.

My Last Meal: Caribbean Pork Tenderloin, Amongst 8 Other Courses

The news has been overtaken the last couple days with The Rapture: the idea that the world is going to end at 6 p.m. EST on today, May 21. According to the theory, the estimate is based on calculations from the Bible, and it will start with a series of earthquakes that will systematically destroy the earth. Believers will be whisked away to heaven, but non-believers will be left behind for an additional five months of torturous living before the world implodes on October 21. Or so they say.
Someone asked me what I would do differently if it WERE the last day of my existence, and honestly there's not much I would change...except what I eat.
My last meal would be so huge, I would be in a food coma by the time the first earthquakes hit. Since I love food and wine, this should not surprise you. The more I thought about it, though, the more food I realized I want to eat again if the end is nigh.
It's a long list and includes many courses. I'd start out with chipotle butternut squash soup -- a new concoction of mine I came up with last year -- followed by about 4 main courses. My mom's prime rib is definitely on the top of the list (it's smothered in kosher salt and baked until the outside is a fatty, crusty goodness that makes your mouth water and your hands swell from the sodium content) and Kaspressknödel, a fried German potato pancake-type delicacy with three different types of cheese in it. Creme brulee would also be on my list, plus some good tequila and a Piña Colada.
But since I also have room for additional main courses -- it's my last day on earth, why not? -- I have to admit I would also want some Caribbean Pork Tenderloin.
It's hard to say, but here I go: it's my favorite recipe in Savoring Chelan. There's something about the stacks of marinated pork tenderloin topped with apple and sweet potato sauteed in butter and cinnamon that makes my mouth water every time I think about it.
That's not to say I would include a couple more of the recipes from the book if I had a last week to survive before the stores were looted, (can you say Fire Pasta and Chocolate Truffles?) but since I'm coming onto the rapture party a little late in the day, this is the one that makes the cut.

Caribbean Pork Tenderloin

Contributed by Ray Sandidge, winemaker for C.R. Sandidge Wines.

Prep time: 20 minutes
Marinade time: 1-2 hours
Cook time: 10 minutes
Serves 4

Two whole pork tenderloins

Marinade
1/2 white onion, chopped
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
2 teaspoons ginger powder
1-1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons lemon juice
3 tablespoons soy sauce
6 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons Balsamic vinegar

Sauté items
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons brown sugar
2 whole apples, cored and cut into rounds (4 rounds per serving)
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut into rounds (4 rounds per serving)

Garnish
Fresh chopped cilantro
Chopped pecans
Olive oil
Chopped green onion

Mix marinade items in a large glass or stainless steel mixing bowl. Cut pork tenderloins into 1 to 1-1/2 inch medallions and toss pork in the marinade until well coated. Refrigerate, covered, for 1 to 2 hours.
Remove pork medallions from marinade and grill 8 to 10 minutes, turning once. Sauté the apple and sweet potato slices in the butter with the brown sugar until lightly browned and softened.
Alternating sweet potato, pork, apple, sweet potato, pork and apple, make two stacks on the plate; you may need toothpicks. Garnish with cilantro, pecans, olive oil, green onion and serve with salad greens. Serve hot.

Savoring Life in Oaxaca

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a love affair with Mexico. It has a lot to do with where I grew up: the Chelan Valley in Central Washington State has a large Mexican population, so I was exposed to Mexican food and culture very early on.
My first friend in Manson was Edith Valdovinos, who lived next door with her family. Her mother used to cook tortillas on the burner of their stove, without a pan. I still think of that image when I flip tortillas with my hands and think about how long it took to burn the feeling out of my finger pads.

I wasn’t very old the first time I saw a live goat outside my neighbor’s house, and although I knew it was related to the stew I ate later, I tried not to think about it. The same neighbors first introduced me to ceviche, an amazing blend of cabbage, tomatoes, lime juice and shrimp -- at that point I picked out the jalapeños. I wasn’t always as good with spicy foods as I am now, but I still ate chips with just the very tip dipped in salsa.

In college I studied in Spain, but while I was there I realized how much I missed Mexican food. (The one time I thought I had found a Mexican restaurant in Mallorca with my family, they served us barbecue sauce when we asked for salsa and my hopes were dashed). The Spanish eat very few spicy foods, and I never realized how important even the option of spicy was to me until it was taken away. As soon as I got back, I went on a spice-tolerance rampage that has left me where I am today: I don’t even taste spiciness in what most people consider to be a hot dish.

I ended college with a semester-long internship in Guadalajara, Mexico. I hated the internship, but loved the street tacos and the humble tables under makeshift awnings where you could get the most delicious and inexpensive tortas and tamales, served on plastic plates covered in plastic bags that could be quickly torn off and replaced for the next customer. I discovered the stringy, fast-melting quesillo -- absolutely perfect for quesadillas -- and somewhere in there, I tried mole for the first time.

Holy mole, how you make my heart and my taste buds sing! A kitchen-sink sauce, mole comes in many flavors and colors, all depending on who’s cooking and what part of Mexico you’re in.

They’re most famous for mole in Oaxaca (Wa HA Ka), one of the best-known Mexican states for culinary delights. Each time I am in Oaxaca I am amazed and entranced by all the food I find here.

Even the smallest things they eat in Mexico amaze me. El Cafecito, a café with two locations in Puerto Escondido on the Oaxacan coast, serves fresh rolls with butter and salsa while you’re waiting for your meal. This may sound strange, but think about it again: a freshly baked roll – they have their own bakery – smothered with real butter and freshly-made salsa. Why wouldn’t it be good?

Oaxacan hot chocolate is another one of my favorite simple pleasures. It is a mixture of cocoa, sugar, cinnamon and sometimes almonds, all ground together and formed into discs or bars to be used for baking, in mole, or for hot chocolate. The secret of the Oaxacan hot chocolate is the whipping. They use a special kitchen tool called a molinillo to whip their hot chocolate: you hold the molinillo between your hands and rub your hands back and forth as if you were going to start a fire with it, and the loose wood pieces on the end whip the chocolate into a light, frothy frenzy. At Cafecito they serve it in a bowl with a spoon – it’s a meal to savor all in itself.

The fruit in Oaxaca -- mango, pineapple, papaya -- is incredibly flavorful all on its own. One of my favorite things to eat here, however, does improve with a little bit of doctoring: plantains.

Fried Plantains

In Mexico, plantains are called macho bananas (plátano macho). They’re huge and meaty, like a regular banana on steroids. They’re starchier than a regular banana, hold together better, and they aren’t as sweet. All of this makes them perfect for frying.

1-1/2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 plantain

Melt the butter in a frying pan on medium heat. Mix 1 teaspoon of sugar into the melted butter. Slice the plantain into 1/4-inch pieces and place them gently in the butter. Fry until golden brown – about 5 minutes – and sprinkle with the remaining sugar before flipping. Continue to fry until the other side is golden brown, remove to a plate and sprinkle lightly with salt. Serve hot.

Warning: as much as you may want to remove the excess butter, placing the plantains on a paper towel will just ensure that they stick to it – the butter/sugar mixture fuses well with paper towels.


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-Morgan