At Last

Summer has officially arrived.  At long last.  And according to conventional Pac NW wisdom, it turned up a day early, on the actual 4th of July.  What a pleasant surprise, after all that dreary rain.

With the lovely, hot days, we spend most of our time outdoors: playing, working, cooking, and (the best bit) eating.  Out comes the grill, the uber-simple meals, the ice-cold bevvies....good things are happening in the summer, no doubt about it.

Recently, I was visiting Jennifer Casa's lovely blog, J Casa *handmade, and was inspired by her post of a Martha Stewart recipe, for Mojo Pork Kebabs.  A quick-to-prepare, marinated dish of pork and veggies, that can be prepped early in the day and forgotten about, until hungry bellies grumble, and the heat has died down just enough to light the grill. 

I did alter things, just a wee bit.  The original recipe calls for cucumbers on the skewers, and I am not a fan.  I think it goes back to college days, when for a short time, I had a very odd, rather lurk-y roommate, who cooked cucumbers.  (I don't know which was more unsettling:  the creepy moments when you'd feel as if you were being watched, and looking up, there she was, just lurking quietly, for who knows how long...or the weird, cooked cucumbers.  Shivers.)  So.  No cucumbers for me, thanks.  Instead, we threw some onions and sweet peppers into the marinade.

I also added a pinch of ground cumin to the marinade.  Because why not?  Citrus, pork, garlic...it sort of wanted cumin for a friend, I do believe.

Here you go:

Mojo Pork Kebabs - adapted from Martha Stewart, via JCasa *handmade
-serves four to six

Ingredients
pork tenderloin, about 2 pounds, cut into 1 1/2 inch cubes
two large peppers, cut into large chunks
1/2 large onion, cut into large chunks
1/3 cup olive oil
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 Tbs freshly squeezed lime juice, from 2 limes
1/4 cup orange juice, from 2 oranges
1 tsp ground cumin
pinch red chili flakes
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Prepare the marinade.  Whisk together olive oil, lime and orange juices, cumin, chili flakes, salt and pepper.  Pour half the marinade over the pork, and refrigerate in a large ziploc bag, or covered bowl, for a minimum of half an hour, up to overnight.  I made mine in the morning, and grilled that evening.  Reserve the other half of marinade for veggies, and brushing on the pork while grilling.

Before skewering, toss the vegetables in the reserved marinade.  Again, reserve this marinade for brushing.

If using skewers, thread the pork and veggies onto them, just before grilling.  Or, if your skewers are packed away in boxes, as ours are, use a grill pan over the coals, to cook.

Preheat your grill, or barbecue.  When hot, grill everything until done, brushing from time to time with marinade.  Pork needs to be cooked to 165 deg F.

Serve up your Mojo Pork with some fresh, crusty bread, pita, or tortillas.

A perfect meal, for perfect summer weather.  At last.

Better with a Crowd

Why, hello again.  I've just returned from a lovely, sunshine-filled visit with my rather prolific family...the kiddos, my mom, aunt, uncle, cousins, and all their many (awesome) children.  It appears that I have (at long last) returned to summer weather here in the ole' Pacific Northwest.  Just in time for school to start back up.  Hm.  I guess I'll take what I can get, and be thankful that life is, if nothing else, very green here.

We all had a great time, chock full of swimming, cooking, eating, and good deal of reminiscing over when we (the cousins and I) were the kids, and the now-grandparents were the sometimes harried, always busy parents.  Who may, or may not, have resorted to the occasional drastic measure in order to cope with a riotous posse of littlies.  These drastic measures may, or may not, have included such classics as:

...a very public, very frigid, very naked hose-down after four little boys decided to bathe in the mud...

...ditching seven children (while keeping us in their sight, of course) at the shore of Lake Gogebic, while paddling off in a canoe and waving THE secret chocolate stash over their heads and cackling maniacally...

...advising (and teaching) a disconsolate four year old to punch a bully, and rewarding him hugely when he did...

I could go on with the flashbacks...but I think that'll do for today.  Suffice it to say, our mother's and aunt's ever-loving, but occasionally off-the-cuff parenting techniques offer a bit of inspiration to those of us cuzzies who are herding around our own flocks today, as well as consolation for when we catch ourselves pulling a less-than-kosher parenting move.  Hey, being a mother is all about working with what you've got, staying in the moment, and generally flying by the seat of your pants a bit.  And usually, hopefully, you get a funny story at the end of the day.  A story for which our kids won't seek therapy.

It's pretty powerful stuff watching our little people create friendships with each other, on their yearly visits, just as we cuzzies did at their age.

In amidst the laughter, sunshine, and swimming:

...we, of course, had to eat!

Poolside Pizza.  Thirteen pizzas, to be precise.  That tells you that not only do we love some pizza, and that there is a fairly large crew to feed...but that this is an easy peasy recipe.  Simple as pie, you might say.

Since pizza (and family) is all about throwing together what you've got on hand, I'm not giving you a topping recipe.  Just do what you like.  It's virtually impossible to make a bad pizza, if you've got good dough.

We barbecued our pizza, which is my favorite way of preparing it.  I have a super handy barbecue pizza pan, which you can pick up at most good cooking stores, or online.  If you choose to bake it in the oven, go with 450 deg F, until the top is bubbly, and the crust is golden brown.

Poolside Pizza - adapted from Simple Italian Snacks
- makes 3, ten-inch, thin crust pizzas (my preference), or 2 thick crust pizzas

Ingredients
2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast
2 cups lukewarm water
1 Tbs fine sea salt
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

*Note*  I made all of the dough in the bread machine, but the original recipe uses a stand mixer.  I can only vouch for the bread machine method, but I'm including both directions.

Bread Machine Directions
To the bread machine pan, add the water, olive oil, salt, and yeast, give it a quick mix, and leave to stand for 5 minutes.

Add the flour, set the bread machine to the Dough setting, and go hang out by the pool.

Standing Mixer Directions
Add the water, olive oil, salt and yeast to the bowl of your stand mixer, stir to combine, and leave to stand for 5 minutes.

Using the paddle attachment, slowly add half the flour to the yeast mixture.  When well combined, add the remaining flour.  Set the mixer to medium, and refit with a dough hook, then continue mixing until the dough comes together in a smooth ball.  Mix for 2 more minutes, until soft and pliable.  Turn onto a lightly floured board, and knead gently for a few minutes.

Shape the dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl.  Cover the bowl with plastic or a damp tea towel, and leave to rise for 30-40 minutes.

Go hang out by the pool.

Rolling and Barbecuing
Preheat the barbecue to 450 deg F, if you have a temperature gauge, about medium high.  When it reaches temperature, turn one side down to low, and keep one at medium to medium high, while maintaining the 450 degrees.

When risen, divide the dough into two or three balls, then roll or stretch into desired size.  Place the prepared dough on your pizza pan, top with sauce and toppings, and place on the hotter side of the barbecue.  Cook, checking often, until the bottom crust begins to turn golden brown, and is baked and sturdy enough to be removed from the pizza pan, but not cooked all the way through.  This usually takes about 5 to 10 minutes.

Keep an eye on those topping thieves!

Now slide the half-cooked pizza onto the cooler side of the barbecue, and use the pizza pan to start another pizza!  Continue on until the troops are satiated.

Now go hang by the pool.  And have a margarita, and a laugh with friends or family, while you're at it.  Life, like pizza, is always better with a crowd.

A Movable Feast

I have a soft spot for that title, above, there.  A Movable Feast.  My love for the phrase is partly due to the fact that I love Hemingway, and reading that book is like getting to tag along with a couple of highly dysfunctional, boozy maniacs, as they shift the party from city to city, around Europe.  Without the raging hangover, of course.

I also adore the phrase because, hey, let's be honest:  Feast.  Which pretty much guarantees there's going to be good food aplenty, drinks in abundance, and a whole lot of fun to be had.  We had our own movable feast yesterday evening, a tribute to our days in Portugal.  Uma sardinhada, to be precise.

When we heard that fresh sardines were in at the nearest fishmongers (read:  30-odd miles away), I hopped in the car, and headed down, excited to pay homage to not only our Festa days in Portugal, but also to that humble, homely fish, the sardine.

Now, I'm not about to romanticize the sardine.  There is nothing romantic about this guy.  In fact, the sardine and I have a rather tumultuous history.  A definite love/hate relationship.  The love comes from my tendency to wax nostalgic about our memories of certain places we've traveled and lived.  Although it is, truly, a tasty fish.  The hate?  Well, here's a little story:

Back in the day, we lived in a sweet, little cottage, with a view of the sea, Numero 4.  It was a lovely wee place, I was pregnant with Tyler, the sun shined bright and hot all summer long.  Life was good.  Mostly.  For you see, our next door neighbors were two ancient crone sisters, bruxas, we called them.  Witches.  All day long they shouted at each other, and from our limited grasp of the Portuguese language, especially the rough, speedy dialect in which they hurled insults back and forth, it sounded for all the world as if they were cursing and casting spells.  Constantly.  Morning, noon, and night.  And they were surrounded, overrun, by a pack of feral cats.  Why cats, you ask?  (Aside from the obvious witch/cat thing.)  Those cursed sardines, of course.

Every day for lunch, our bruxas, along with many Algarvian residents, would fire up the grill and throw on the sardines.  A healthy lunch, a tradition with roots that extend deep into the past.  And a very, very intense smell.  Especially if you're pregnant.  Like I was.  Thus, the hatred part of the deal.

However, I also have very fond memories of sardinhadas, like the one at our friends, Craig and Ilda's.  A post-work party, people of all ages and several nationalities digging in to solidly humble, soulful food, abundant wine, and a few good laughs at their jumping dog.  (Seriously, this dog was hilarious.  He bounced straight up and down, nearly 6 feet off the ground.  Especially funny after a few jugs of vinho verde.)

Anyway, we felt a tribute to fond memories of great friends and good food was long overdue, so re-enacted our own sardinhada, last night.

Requirements for a successful sardinhada must include:

Entrada...olives, the brinier and oilier, the better.  Preferably also a good, rustic cheese, and some bread to hold folks over while the sardines cook.

Decent sized, fresh sardines, to be grilled.  These were on the large side, about 2 to 3 fish per pound.  We decided last night that a bit smaller is preferable, because you pick the meat out of the fish with your fingers, and there are a lot of tiny bones.  In this size fish, the bones are too big to be ignored, but in smaller ones, chomping down a few here and there is no big deal.  It's a messy process, regardless.  But fun.

Crusty bread, on which to serve the sardines.  The bread acts as a sort of trencher, and soaks up all the lovely fish juices, and afterward, best part:  you get to eat it.  Yum.

To complete the prato principal, or main course, a simple salad, dressed in olive oil, vinegar, and sea salt.  Boiled potatoes, dressed in olive oil.  (I cheated though, and tossed them in butter and herbs.)


A large selection of bebidas, drinks.  We always laughed at how many drinks were on the table by the end of a meal...but let me say, the more the merrier, just like friends.  A jug of sangria, or a few cold beers to start.  A well-chilled Vinho Verde, and a bottle of still or fizzy water, to share during the meal.  And do not forget uma bica e o porto, espresso and port, to round it all off. And to settle the probably quite stuffed stomach, before dessert.

Last, but not least, of course...good friends to share it all with.  Muito bem.

We had a super fresh, simple dessert of figs, with lavendar and lemon-infused honey, and a bit of whipped cream.  I found a recipe on yummly.com, and adapted it a wee bit, hope you like it!

Caramelized Figs with Lavendar and Lemon-Infused Honey

For the honey:

1/3 cup honey
2 tsp dried lavender blossoms
1 tsp lemon zest
Juice of half a lemon

Combine all ingredients, except lemon juice, in a small saucepan, and bring to a gentle simmer, for 3 minutes.  Remove from the heat, let cool 10 minutes, and add lemon juice.

For the cream:

1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
1 Tbs confectioner's sugar
1/4 tsp pure vanilla extract

Beat cream with sugar and vanilla, stopping well before peaks form, for a soft, whipped cream.

For the caramelized figs:

1 - 2 figs per serving, halved
Turbinado sugar

Sprinkle a small amount of turbinado sugar atop the halved figs, and either put them under the broiler until the top caramelizes slightly (watch constantly, it only takes a minute or so), or go crazy with the blow torch, as the Mister did.

To serve, place a few tablespoons of whipped cream in a small serving dish, top with the caramlized figs, drizzle with the honey, and garnish with a sprig or two of mint.

Espetacular!