Sunday, June 19, 2011
Resurrection
Leftovers are a drag.
To some, this is an inflammatory statement. Akin to saying, "I can't stand Glee." (btw- I can't stand Glee).
So, before I'm verbally smacked in the face with an open-faced meatloaf sandwich (or accosted my a rabid army of Gleeks), let's break this down:
1) Eating the same thing in sequence is very boring. This is why I'm not in the military, avoid prison, and run through failed diets like a pack of smokes at an Al-Anon meeting.
2) Many foods, though delicious initially, lose a whole lot of luster when refrigerated and reconstituted.
Eating leftovers- ones not meant to improve overnight like a pot roast or a soup- is like fighting a gustatory battle against the evil forces of hunger with a decimated officer Alex James Murphy, pre-Robocop enhancements.
But, even when dealing with the most-ravaged of leftovers, a little culinary surgery can turn the most lifeless Steve Austin into the Six Million Dollar Man.
Take, for example, the low country boil (or "frogmore stew", "shrimp boil", or any number of regional names). This southern, coastal delight is a mash-up of shrimp, corn, potatoes, and sausage, boiled together in seasoned water (most traditionally, in straight-up seawater). Generally made for a large crowd, the one-pot feast is dumped onto a table covered with newspaper, and devoured by famished, often-tipsy, party or tailgate guests.
When the crowd has been eating all day, the chance of leftovers is more palpable. What's left? A fridge full of Murphys and Austins:
Cold, greasy sausage, enveloped in a film of congealed pork fat. Wrinkled corn. Potato mush. And, of course, shrimp that have already been cooked once. And overcooked shellfish is an abject disaster.
Alas, at times, fiscal responsibility outweighs the desire to discard. With a few ingredients and some basic know-how, you can rebuild it. You have the technology.
Six Million Dollar Pasta (or Robocop Pasta, if you prefer)
1 Tbsp unsalted butter or olive oil, or a combo of both
1/2 lb. smoked kielbasa (about the equivalent of 1 link), cut into 1/4" half-rounds
4 scallions, chopped (greens and whites)
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
2-3 heads of garlic, minced
1 red pepper, seeded and cut into strips
1 Tbsp cajun seasoning
1 Tbsp all-purpose flour
1 Cup whole milk or half-and-half
1/2 lb. cooked large (30-35 per pound) shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 lb. (1/2 box) dry pasta (in this case, linguine)
Salt & Pepper to taste
1) Melt butter, or oil, or combo of both (I like that one) in a pan. Add the kielbasa sausage and sauté on medium heat until the sausage has given up some fat.
2) Add the scallions, celery, garlic, peppers, and cajun seasoning. Sauté until veggies are a little soft (3 minutes)
4) Add the flour and mix into the goodness. Once the flour is incorporated and has absorbed the fat, add the milk. Put the spurs to it and crank the range to high (the flour will thicken the milk into a sauce, but only once the liquid boils (don't ask me the science on this). If the sauce gets too thick, add more milk, a bit at a time. Bing bang boom.
5) Add pasta to boiling water after the milk goes in.
6) Once the cream sauce is how you like it, add the shrimp, basically just to heat them up. Salt and pepper to taste.
7) When the pasta is ready, strain it and dump into the sauce (I also like to add a small ladle of the pasta water to the sauce).
8) Garnish, or don't garnish. I don't care. And who am I to influence your garnishing decisions?
I know your first instinct is to drink a tall glass of whole milk with this. However, since there's already a bunch of whole milk in the recipe, do something wacky and drink wine. In the case of this dish, containing both a seafood element and some sausage, I figured there may be opportunity to go either way- red or white- with the wine. Fortunately, PR pal Constance had slung me some sample New Zealand beauties recently (okay, it was a long time ago. PR folks: I'm a really terrible person to send wine to). In any case, they fit the bill: A Sauvignon Blanc and a Pinot Noir. White and Red. It was meant to happen this way.
The wines of New Zealand always tend to be great with food, especially from the Marlborough region (on the South Island). The significant distance from the equator and the maritime influences 'round those parts make for bottlings that aren't too heavy, are crisp and clean, and bonzer with chow (though I think "bonzer" is an Aussie saying, and now I've lost my entire Kiwi readership). Although many other wine grapes are grown in New Zealand, Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir are definitely the ambassadors for white and red, respectively, and neither of these offerings disappointed.
In the end, the acidity of the Sauvignon Blanc balanced the rich pasta dish, with pronounced grapefruit goodness to tame it's fiery cajun soul. The Pinot Noir, although tasty on it's own, didn't jive with my lofty aspirations of a colorblind meal...
...but it was bionic; resurrected from a refrigerated tomb to bring hope to generations of leftovers.
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