Tag Archives: bacon

Bacon-Wapped Peaches on the Electric Smoker

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If this isn’t the easiest summertime recipe ever, I don’t know what is. Summer, of course, is stonefruit season, and peaches go together with smoke and bacon just as magnificently as Peaches goes together with Herb. Simply cut as many peaches as you care to, wrap them each in a slice of bacon, stick them with a toothpick, and splash them with a little balsamic vinegar… or not. Half an hour later, they’re done! [I used a pellet mix of hickory, maple, and cherry; lighter woods (say, other than mesquite) are recommended.]

I served them with a little conserva de pulpo (Galician tinned octopus in olive oil), which I put, in the can, on the smoker for the last 15 minutes of cooking.

UPDATE 24 August 2019: Just got a shipment of fresh peaches from Frog Hollow Farm, and it was a complete game changer. I’m talking the difference between a Toyota RAV4 hybrid and a Lexus RX 450h. Or, if you’re not a car buff, the difference between Mumm DVX and Nicolas Feuillatte Palmes d’Or. In other words, you’ll be starting off at an okay place with the basic recipe, but the upgrade is more than an order of magnitude better.

INGREDIENTS

2-3 firm yellow or white peaches, halved
4-6 strips thick cut bacon (1 per each)
1 tbsp. / 15 ml balsamic vinegar (optional)

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat smoker to 325°F / 163°C
Cut peaches in half
Wrap 1 bacon slice per peach half around fruit, secure with toothpick
Drizzle balsamic over peaches and bacon
Place peach halves directly on grill, close lid
Turn peach halves over half way through (15 minutes)
Remove at 30 minutes and let cool slightly

Summer Vegan Bean Salad I

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Bless you, Steve Sando.

Summertime, and the livin’ is… damn sticky, for the nonce, in Southern California. And there’s another heat wave coming. The last thing I want to do is to, say, sit over a pot of saffron risotto for an hour. I’d like something cool, and refreshing, and clean, and if I were able to subsist on gin and tonic or Croma Vera Albariño, well, I’d probably do that. My doctor might suggest some other course; I bet she’d be just fine with this one.

The first trick to any bean salad is — duh — great beans. I’ve long extolled the virtues of Rancho Gordo’s heirloom beans, and that’s where I started. The bride and I are particularly fond of their Royal Corona beans, which are kin to the Gigandes plaki, often spelled as yigandes, used in the great Greek meze served under an expansive canopy of tomato sauce and often accompanied by Feta cheese and bread. Rancho Gordo founder Sando is something of a bean whisperer, and cultivates heirloom beans all over the world, working with local farmers at fair prices. He is a hero, full stop.

The second trick to a good bean salad is a balance of flavours and textures. No one wants a limp bean any more than they want a wet noodle — and I mean that literally and figuratively. When I knew I would be building off a base of Royal Corona beans, I compiled a culinary dance card of prospective partners, seen below. Since this is a really adaptable bean, I knew I could go off in several directions, but not all at once. So: I decided to make it Vegan. I knew sun-dried tomatoes and marinated red bell peppers would be part of it for colour and taste and texture. Then it was a matter of filling in gaps. Celery for crunch. Capers for salt and tang. Slivered almonds for more crunch. Macerated red onion for a little assertiveness, but not too much, hence the maceration. Scallions and parsley for herbaceousness and colour. Fresh thyme for extra aromatics. There were some herbs and oil in the sun-dried tomatoes, and I decided to use them rather than rinse them off, and finish off the salad dressing as needed.

NOT “5 Livered Almonds.” The pen was malfunctioning.

This is truly a salad that can be assembled by an elementary schooler, as soon as she can be trusted with a knife (and has the upper body strength to open vacuum-packed bottles, or can inveigle someone to do it for her).

Macerating the onion in this case consists of dicing it and dropping it in a bowl with enough water to cover it, dumping in a glug — that’s a technical term — of some sort of vinegar, and about .5 cup / 170 g of sugar, then stirring it up and setting it into the fridge for an hour or so, to blunt the onion’s sharpness. It’s not quite a quick pickle, but it does temper its aggressiveness.

As for the beans, I made them in my Instant Pot®. Rinsed them, covered them with water, and set the pressure on high for 25 minutes with a natural release. You can soak them overnight if you wish, and cook them in a trad soup pot (I do this in winter, just for the atmosphere), but I was shooting for fast results. I drained the cooked beans and rinsed them with cold tap water, then dumped them in with the already macerating onion to cool them down some more. Kilotonnes of options here, feel free to follow your path.

Give it a bit to mingle flavours, and you may or may not want to top it with a vinaigrette. As it turned out for me, just a few drops of great old Balsamic vinegar and a sprinkling of black sea salt flakes (the flakes were black due to charcoal; they weren’t from the Black Sea) finished it off nicely, even on the second day.

Summer Vegan Bean Salad I
Serves 6-8 as a main course, with extras

INGREDIENTS
1 lb. / 454 g dried Rancho Gordo Royal Corona Beans, hydrated and cooked
24 oz. / 680 g (2 bottles, 12 oz./340 g each) marinated red peppers, drained
25-30 capers
3 large stalks celery, diced
1 red onion, diced and macerated (see note above)
1 bunch scallions (10-12), sliced
1 cup / 60 g chopped fresh parsley
1 tbsp / 2.4 g fresh thyme, finely minced
16 oz. / 454 g julienned sun-dried tomatoes in oil (using the oil)
.75 cup / 85 g slivered almonds

Next go, we may find room for some of those other ingredients on the dance card, plus cucumber, jicama, nopalito, or something else!

Incidentally, if you’re not wedded to the Vegan thing, bacon & bleu cheese, prosciutto & Parmesan, or even chicken & chevre could be welcome additions.

One final and sad note: As I was writing this, I learned that the Pulitzer Prize-winning food writer Jonathan Gold died. He was as much a part of this city’s cultural life as Jim Murray or Jack Smith; he was the culinary literary equivalent for this city of the likes of Mike Royko or Studs Terkel or Herb Caen. He is simply irreplaceable, and his passing at 57 is too soon by decades. I cannot begin to imagine how much our lives will be impoverished by his absence.

http://www.latimes.com/food/jonathan-gold/

Be a Star and Save the Bucks — Breakfast Egg Bites [Instant Pot® recipe]

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Mmmmm. Eggy.

Even if you don’t follow my formula, you simply have to make these. They are so simple, so satisfying, so tasty, and so (at least potentially) wholesome that they tick off every box I could hope for in a recipe.

Here’s the backstory: A little over a year ago, the bride and I were driving from Northern California to our Los Angeles-area home. It’s about a five hour ride, punctuated by the standard gas and potty breaks, and we often fit in a snack somewhere during a pit stop. Independently, we concluded that fast food, while convenient, was just plain sad, and probably not all that good for us. So we left it behind and began to pack our own road chow. On one trip, though, our planning (read MY planning) was severely deficient, and we were left to the mercy of Interstate 5’s culinary jungle. To make matters more challenging, the bride was on a gluten-free kick, which diminished our already circumscribed choices by about 87.3%. As luck would have it, Starbucks (a popular American coffee-and-snack chain, for all you international readers) offered sous vide eggs with cheese and some sort of meat (Gruyere and bacon, as I recall, though there are several variants available now) on their menu. They were — are — delicious. And while I’m not gonna hate on Starbucks for their pricing strategy, let’s just say they were a tad more expensive than a McGutbomb.

Let them eat eggs: $4.45 USD. Less than Beluga, more than filet mignon.

But I digress. I came to praise Starbucks, not to bury it.

Even without a sous vide machine, you can make a very acceptable substitute in your Instant Pot®, and it’s so easy, it’s actually more work to write this down — and probably more even to read it — than to make the recipe.

One thing you’ll likely want is a silicone tray variously described as an egg bites mold or a baby food storage tray or some such. I purchased this pair of molds at Amazon, both because I wasn’t sure what would fit my cooker and because I wasn’t sure how big the finished eggs should be. In retrospect, given that I have an 8-qt. Instant Pot®, I probably should have gotten a pair of the larger trays. Live and learn. There’s nothing wrong in theory with mini-bites, even if I haven’t made them yet. While some folks recommend making these in tiny Mason jars, I think it’s a huge pain in the patootie, cleanup-wise. Egg just loves to weld itself to glass.

Here’s a down-and-dirty roadmap for the eggs I generally prepare for the bride to take to work. It’s super easy, endlessly modifiable, and produces a taste treat which, while not vegan, slides under the ovo-lacto vegetarian bar with ease. If that’s not a dealbreaker for you, the sky’s the limit. Anything you could put in an omelet you can put in these, from oysters to tortilla strips, so let your fancy run amok a bit. Pulled pork with BBQ sauce? Hot dog bites with Dijon mustard? Water chestnuts, scallions, and ginger? Why not? It probably goes without saying (except that I’m saying it now) that if you are concerned about cholesterol, you can modify this “recipe” by substituting egg whites for whole eggs.


Starbucks-style Egg Bites
Makes 7 egg-ish size servings

Cheese and cilantro and tomatoes, oh my.

INGREDIENTS
4 eggs
2 tbsp. / 30 g sour cream (or crema Mexicana, Salvadoreña, Hondureña, or Centroamericana)
1 cup / 125 g grated cheese (I used Monterey Jack) (and remember, this is not a packed cup)
3/4 cup / 40 g sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
3/4 cup / 25 g fresh cilantro, chopped
1 teaspoon / 2 g pimentón de la Vera
pinch salt
olive oil or canola oil spray to coat the molds
2 cups / 500 ml tap water for the Instant Pot®
aluminum foil

Covered egg tray ready for the steam bath.

DIRECTIONS
Oil egg bite tray and set aside. Chop tomatoes and cilantro, grate cheese, and set aside. In a medium size bowl, whisk the eggs, sour cream, pimentón de la Vera, and salt together until smooth. Fold in the cilantro, tomatoes, and cheese. Spoon mixture evenly into oiled cups in the egg tray. Add the water to the Instant Pot® container. Cover the egg tray loosely with aluminum foil, place it on the Instant Pot® steaming trivet, and lower it into the Instant Pot®. Set to “Steam” for 8 minutes at high pressure, making sure that the vent is set to “Sealing” rather than “Venting.”

Looks like this? You did it right.

When the timer beeps, you can either let the pressure release naturally or carefully move the vent from “Sealing” to “Venting,” making sure to keep your hands clear of the steam. Allow the bites to cool for a few minutes before eating, or put them in the fridge for future use.

Reheat one or two at a time in the microwave for 30 seconds on high and serve.

Incidentally, if you want to make multiple trays at a time, just stack them slightly offset to one another and go for it. I’m guessing you could fit a three-tray stack in the 8-qt. Instant Pot®, which would use up a dozen eggs. Because the bride and I are a duprass, we don’t really have much use for 21 egg bites at one go. Your mileage may vary.

Pro tip: My chef pal Stefhan Gordon turned me on to Vital Farms eggs, which are ethically raised. Of all the horror stories that my anti-omnivore friends trot out, few can compare with the way most commercial/industrial chickens are treated. To make matters worse, egg producers employ a dazzling variety of unregulated terms designed to fool consumers into thinking chickens are being treated better than they actually are. In Southern California, Vital Farms eggs are widely available at supermarkets, and they conform to the highest standards. Yeah, they are maybe a couple bucks more per dozen. But I’m willing — no, make that happy — to spend a quarter per egg to inject a little humanity into my breakfast. Do yourself and your avian friends a good deed, and have a care about sourcing your eggs.

Elvis Bread Lives!

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done-baking

It all started when I bought a few too many overripe bananas. At 99 cents for six, how can one not buy a dozen?

For years, I’d read about Elvis Presley’s love for a grilled sandwich containing bananas, peanut butter, and bacon. While actually making and consuming same seemed a bridge too far (I hadn’t yet lost all respect for my oft-abused arteries), I reasoned that the essence of The King’s bestest sammie could well be condensed into a single, less punishing, loaf.

Riffing off a basic banana bread recipe, I set out on the road to culinary Graceland. The first pass yielded a version that, while tasty, didn’t quite hit the sweet spot of a bread fit for a you-know-what (too peanut butter-y). A friend suggested that I could micro-manage the outcome by having bacon, peanut butter, and mashed bananas on hand to course-correct on a slice-by-slice basis, but that seemed to me like cheating. By the second go, I was TCB; peanut butter ratcheted back, bacon pumped up, and for good measure, I slipped in some bacon drippings for shortening.

I think the latter was my -ahem- good luck charm. Nailed it.

INGREDIENTS

1 pound (1/2 kg) bacon, cooked crispy
2 cups (250 gm) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon (5 gm) baking soda
½ teaspoon (3 gm) salt
4 overripe bananas
½ cup + 2 tbsp. (145 gm) crunchy peanut butter (I used Kroger Crunchy Peanut Butter with Honey)
1 cup (250 gm) turbinado sugar
⅓ cup (80 ml) buttermilk
⅓ cup (80 ml) bacon drippings
2 eggs, room temperature
1 tbsp. (15 ml) vanilla extract

chop-the-bacon

DIRECTIONS

1. Fry bacon until crispy; crumble or chop and set aside.
2. Preheat oven to 350°F/ 175°C. Grease and flour an 8″ x 4″ loaf pan.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and baking soda; set aside.
4. In a separate large bowl, combine the banana, chopped bacon, peanut butter, sugar, buttermilk, bacon drippings, eggs, and vanilla extract with electric mixer until completely mixed.
5. Pour the wet ingredients into the flour mixture and fold together with a rubber spatula or wooden spoon until completely combined; be sure to moisten all the flour, but don’t overmix — or overthink.
6. Transfer the batter to the prepared loaf pan, smoothing the top into an even layer. Bake until the loaf is golden brown and a toothpick or thin knife inserted into the center comes out almost perfectly clean, about 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes.
7. Let the bread cool in the pan for about 10 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack to finish cooling. Wrap the cooled loaf tightly in plastic wrap; it can be stored at room temp for up to 5 days. [Good luck keeping it around that long.]

elvis-bread-at-thanksgiving

Should you require a soundtrack in the background while you bake your Elvis bread, I might modestly advance an odd little ditty that a record label I once worked for released nearly thirty years ago.

 

Maple. Bacon. Muffin. Yum.

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Maple bacon munchable.

Maple bacon munchable.

Maple and bacon go together like… well, maple and bacon. Just saying those two words together conjures up pastoral images of a smokehouse out in the woods of rural Vermont (or Québec, if you happen to be a Canadian like me), nestled among a stand of sap-producing trees, each with its own bucket. Heck, people even cure bacon with maple. So naturally, I was curious about how to make a portable (and edible) vehicle for conveying these two great tastes that taste great together.

I started with Maple Bacon Cookies, but try as I might (several batches), I couldn’t quite get the balance right. I tried making them with maple sugar (very expensive), with maple bacon liqueur, with enough maple syrup to turn the cookie dough into something resembling cake batter. In every case, the maple flavour seemed to get swallowed up like an extra in a Tarzan movie, disappearing irrevocably into the quicksand of the dough.

So I abandoned the project temporarily. And yet, the problem nagged.

One afternoon, I thought I might try my hand at a maple bacon muffin, rather than a cookie, and I came across an interesting recipe on littleleopardbook.com. This author’s version called for a streusel topping, which I knew I didn’t want, but I was curious to try the muffin itself. Not bad, but it suffered from the same problem I’d had with the cookies; not enough maple. Another blogger suggested using maple extract, but the local grocery had only imitation maple flavouring — that was right out — and online bakers reviewing the various extracts available through Amazon frequently experienced The Case of the Disappearing Maple Flavour. One product in particular looked interesting, but it had only three reviews, and at $4 per oz. (it was $9.89 + $6.60 shipping for a 118 ml bottle), I decided to go a different route for the time being.

If the maple flavour was being swallowed up on the inside, why not put it on the outside? So for the next pass, I added the requisite amount of maple syrup to the batter, but I also fixed upon a post-bake maple glaze to ramp up the taste.

I also opted to use the grease left over from the cooked bacon as part of the shortening for the recipe. Instead of the 1/2 cup of oil that the original had called for, I substituted approximately 1/4 cup of rendered bacon grease (all I had from cooking 1 lb. of applewood smoked bacon) and topped off the measuring cup with canola oil.

Those two little tweaks turbocharged the flavour, and turned my “grrrrr” into “grrrrreat.”

One last tip: If you have access to it, No. 2 or Grade B maple syrup is — perhaps somewhat counterintuitively — preferable to what is commonly sold as Grade A. It’s darker and has a more pronounced flavour. Vermont’s maple syrup producers, in a typical case of grade inflation, have recently decided to reclassify all commercially available maple syrup produced in the state as Grade A, with descriptors on the label to distinguish the varying colours. What was Grade B is in the process of being rebranded as “Grade A Dark With Robust Taste.” New York state has opted in on this scheme as well, and it seems like most other maple syrup producing regions will be on board by the end of 2015. Or maybe not.

Incidentally, many websites and blogs will imply — or even declare! — that Vermont maple syrup is the ne plus ultra of sap-derived products, but I will humbly (and with some degree of national pride) suggest that while Vermont’s state flag sports a pine tree, the Canadian national flag displays the maple leaf. Caveat emptor. But no matter where your maple syrup came from, by all means use real maple syrup and not that imitation chemical Frankensyrup. That abomination’s only legitimate application is as a weak adhesive, suitable for sticking papers together. You might save a few cents, or even a couple of bucks, but life is short, and some corners were meant not to be cut.

Batter up.

Batter up.

MAPLE BACON MUFFINS [Gluten-Free Version] (makes 12 muffins)
Ingredients
1 lb./.45 kg crispy cooked bacon, crumbled
2 cups/250 g flour (I used gluten-free Cup4Cup)
3 tsp/12 g baking powder
1/2 tsp/4 g salt
1/2 cup/120 ml milk
1/2 cup/120 ml mix of bacon grease and vegetable oil
1 egg
2/3 cup/160 ml pure No. 2/Grade B/Grade A Dark With Robust Taste maple syrup
1/3 cup/75 g dark brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C. In a small bowl, combine dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, salt) and whisk together. In a larger bowl, whisk together the milk, oil/bacon grease, and egg, then add the syrup and sugar and whisk until the sugar is pretty well dissolved. Gradually add the dry ingredients, stirring as you add. No need to get super fussy about getting every little flour lump out, just give it a good quick mix and make sure that all the flour is coated with the liquid. Stir in crumbled bacon. Pour into paper cupcake liners or directly into a pre-greased and floured cupcake pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove from cupcake pan onto cooling rack and allow to cool for 15-20 minutes before dipping in Maple Glaze (see recipe below).

Fit to be dipped.

Fit to be dipped.

MAPLE GLAZE
Ingredients
1/4 cup/60 g unsalted butter
1/2 cup/120 ml pure No. 2/Grade B/Grade A Dark With Robust Taste maple syrup
1 cup/112 g sifted confectioners’ sugar

You may not need this much glaze, so the important thing to remember is the butter-syrup-sugar ratio: 1-2-4. And if you want a “glazier” glaze, up the maple syrup just a bit. It’s less opaque and even more chock full of maple goodness.

As for the prep, you can heat the butter and syrup in a pot on the stove, or just pop them in a microwave-safe container to melt the butter (about 60-90 seconds on high should do the trick). Whisk in the powdered sugar and set it in the fridge to cool. When the surface has hardened (15-20 minutes), it’s ready for dipping.

Redeeming the world’s least favourite veggie — the Brussels sprout

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They don't have to be your gastronomic enemy. (image courtesy foodrepublic.com)

They don’t have to be your gastronomic enemy. (image courtesy foodrepublic.com)

A quick spin around the Web the other day proved to me that I was not alone in my longtime antipathy to what has been called “cabbage’s evil cousin.” According to a 2008 survey conducted by Heinz, Brussels sprouts are the most hated vegetable in America (and Britain as well). This conclusion was supported by a casual tour of several relevant websites, including ones here and here and here.

For most of my life, I weighed in with the majority opinion. But thanks to a small restaurant in Manhattan Beach, California, my point of view was irrevocably swayed. And while I can’t promise you absolutely that yours will be as well, this may be the best bet to nudge you (and yours) toward a sprout-supporting stature.

First off, part of the reason that you probably hate Brussels sprouts is that, well, they stink. Literally. Brussels sprouts contain chemical compounds called glucosinolates, which have health benefits, but also exhibit the unfortunate tendency to release lots of sulfur the longer they’re cooked. And if you — like me — grew up during a time when vegetables were boiled until grey, you no doubt have been served at least one plate of sprouts that smelled like a skunk with gas. Bad prep = bad rep.

If, however, you roast the little green gems, they caramelize (actually, technically, they undergo a Maillard reaction), and become sort of sweeter and nuttier, free of the sulfur stink, and actually quite palatable.

Here’s how to do it.

Straight from the stalk.

Straight from the stalk.

TIN ROOF BISTRO BRUSSELS SPROUTS

Ingredients

1 lb./.5 kg Brussels sprouts
3 tablespoons/45 g butter (or, if you’re dairy-challenged, Earth Balance vegan sticks)
1 teaspoon/5 g minced garlic
1 teaspoon/5 g minced anchovy (optional) — you can substitute cooked bacon, if you prefer
1 tablespoons/15 ml lemon juice
1 teaspoon/5 g capers
1 teaspoon/1 g chopped parsley
Salt and pepper to taste
2 slices of ciabatta bread (optional)
3 tablespoons/15 ml extra virgin olive oil

Sprouts going in.

Sprouts going in.

Directions

Preheat over to 350ºF/175ºC.

Remove ends and rough outer leaves from Brussels sprouts. Cut in half lengthwise. Put in bowl and add 2 tablespoons / 15 ml olive oil. Toss sprouts in oil and then lay out on sheet pan. Roast for 30-40 minutes until lightly “caramelized.” Brown is good.

Sprouts coming out.

Sprouts coming out.

Brush ciabatta with remaining tablespoon / 7.5 ml olive oil. Grill or toast ciabatta.

When Brussels sprouts are roasted/caramelized, heat up small sauté pan. Melt butter (or margarine/non-dairy spread) and add garlic and anchovy (or bacon). Cook for several minutes until garlic turns a golden color. Add lemon juice, capers, parsley, and salt & pepper. Toss sprouts in sauce until thoroughly coated.

Oh, you saucy little devil, you.

Oh, you saucy little devil, you.

Place grilled ciabatta in bottom of bowl. Pour Brussels sprouts over bread, or serve without bread; they’re good either way.

There’s no way of knowing how many sprouts haters there were at Thanksgiving dinner this year, but we made a double batch (as a side dish for 12), and there were no leftovers. That kinda smells like success to me.

Calabaza Rellena con Todo lo Bueno — or — Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good

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Four years ago almost to the day, I was listening to National Public Radio (on KPCC in Pasadena, one of the two NPR stations to which I donate). I heard a woman hitherto unknown to me named Dorie Greenspan wax poetic about a French recipe that seemed to be the most delightful non-dessert pumpkin dish imaginable; she simply called it Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good. Intrigued by the concept, I purchased her most excellent cookbook (Around My French Table: More Than 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours), and I’ve made it a number of times, with great success. [Her version is simpler than this one, because there’s no pre-cooking involved; you just slice and dice and stuff and cook. Or, as the French, say, “Voila!” But hang with me here, and you’ll see where I was going.]

As I walked into the market this past Thursday, a cart piled high with gorgeous sugar pie pumpkins greeted me, and I was inspired to take a shot at reinventing the dish with a Southwest/Mexican flair. This is a fine way to introduce pumpkin into a Thanksgiving meal in some form other than pie, and it’s a remarkably flexible recipe. In many ways, this “recipe” sort of resembles a road map, with a thousand thousand routes that will all lead you from your point of departure (the kitchen) to your destination (the table).

You’ll want to note that all measures are approximate, because the pumpkin sizes will vary widely, but if you have leftover stuffing, you can always wrap it in tin foil (or, if you’re trying for a little more Southwest authenticity, a banana leaf or two), and cook it alongside the pumpkin. Arranging and wrapping the banana leaves in a way that will keep the liquid from seeping out may be something of a challenge, but it’s manageable.

This version is gluten-free; it can easily be “veganized” by substituting your favourite vegan cheeses, and full-fat coconut milk for the cream (the reason I suggest the full-fat coconut milk as opposed to soy-, rice-, or almond milk is that the coconut milk better replicates the creamy mouthfeel).

CALABAZA RELLENA CON TODO LO BUENO
(PUMPKIN STUFFED WITH EVERYTHING GOOD, SOUTHWEST STYLE)
Ingredients:

1 pumpkin (approximately 3 lbs/1.5 kg)
1 can (15.25 oz/432 g) corn, drained
4-6 slices of stale bread, cubed (I used Whole Foods’ Sun-Dried Tomato and Roasted Garlic Gluten-Free Bread)
12 oz/345 g Monterey Pepper Jack cheese, shredded (you could also use Cheddar or Gouda or Manchego)
3 Hatch chile peppers (or Anaheim chile peppers), seeded and diced (or a 4 oz/113 g can of diced green chiles)
6-8 shallots, chopped
6-8 stems fresh cilantro leaf (also known as coriander leaf or Chinese parsley), chopped
2-3 cloves garlic (to taste), peeled, germ removed and coarsely chopped
1 tsp/1.8 g dried oregano
4-6 sliced of crisp bacon, crumbled
2 links chorizo (about 1/2 lb/0.25 kg)* [see note on chorizo below]
1 plantain, diced (optional)
1 small or 1/2 large brown onion, diced
salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cup/80 ml heavy cream (or half and half, if you prefer)
2 tbsp/12 g Cotija cheese, crumbled or grated, for garnish (optional)
Fresh cilantro leaves, chopped, for garnish (optional)
3-4 banana leaves, optional (available at most Latino grocery stores)

Directions:

Center a rack in the oven and preheat it to 350°F/175°C. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, parchment, or a silicone baking mat so that if the pumpkin innards boil over (which they sometimes do, a bit), they don’t soil the inside of your oven.

This pumpkin needs a cleaning out.

This pumpkin needs a cleaning out.

Using a sharp and sturdy knife, carefully cut a cap out of the pumpkin’s top the way you would if making a Jack-o’-lantern. [Ms. Greenspan’s suggestion is to cut at a 45-degree angle. But be careful; the pumpkin rind is tough. I find that a stabbing motion, a la Psycho, is emotionally satisfying, but it’s your call.] The opening should be large enough for you to work inside the pumpkin. Clean the strings and seeds from the cap, and set it aside (we’ll be using it later). Scoop out the loose guts (again, strings and seeds) from the pumpkin’s interior. [The seeds can be cleaned, salted, and roasted later, should you desire, or you can toss them.] Season the inside of the pumpkin with salt and pepper, and place it on the baking sheet.

Chorizo and onions and plantains, oh my!

Chorizo and onions and plantains, oh my!

Heat a frying pan and cook the bacon until crispy, then let it drain on a paper towel. Peel the plantain and dice it into quarter-inch cubes. Remove the chorizo from its casing and put it, the chopped plantain, and the chopped onion into the still-warm frying pan (which should still have bacon grease in it, so no need for oil), being careful not to splatter hot grease. Cook for about 8-10 minutes, breaking up the lumps of chorizo, and stirring occasionally. Remove plantain, onion, and chorizo from pan with a slotted spoon (or drain in colander over a ceramic or Pyrex bowl, as you don’t want that grease going down your sink) and place in a large bowl. Add the bacon, bread, peppers, cheeses, scallions, garlic, cilantro, and oregano, then toss. Season with a bit of freshly-ground black pepper, and pack the pumpkin with the mix, leaving enough room for the cap to fit back on. [We’ll come back to what to do with any extra filling a little later.] Pour the cream into the pumpkin, and use your judgement to decide whether you need to use all of it; it’s for moistening the ingredients, not immersing them.

All stuffed up...

All stuffed up…

...and capped for cooking.

…and capped for cooking.

Replace the cap and bake the pumpkin for about 2 hours — check it after 90 minutes — or until the pumpkin filling is bubbling and its flesh is tender enough to be pierced easily with the tip of a knife. You may want to remove the cap for the last 20-30 minutes of cooking to brown the top and evaporate some of the liquid.

Note the colour change on the pumpkin. Gorgeous.

Note the colour change on the pumpkin. Gorgeous.

IF YOU HAVE LEFTOVER PUMPKIN STUFFING…
You can moisten it with a little cream (not too much!) and wrap it in a banana leaf, seal it in tin foil, or even put it in a small covered casserole dish, and roast it alongside the pumpkin on the baking sheet. It can come out after 60-75 minutes (after all, it wasn’t insulated by all that pumpkin flesh), but even if you forget, it should still be plenty moist. Alternatively (as this recipe yielded just about enough for TWO small pumpkins), you can freeze the remainder, making the next pumpkin-stuffing party all that much quicker.

Serving:

When the pumpkin is ready, allow it to rest on the baking sheet for about 5 minutes or so before trying to move it. Then, carefully transfer it to a platter and bring it to table. Remember, it’s hot, and the cooking will have reduced the pumpkin’s structural integrity, so take your time. It can either be cut into wedges with the filling spooned over, or you can scoop out pumpkin flesh and filling together. Garnish with the chopped cilantro leaves and/or Cotija cheese. Depending on the size of the pumpkin, the size of your guest list, and the size of your appetite, it can serve as either a main course, or the perfect accompaniment to a turkey or some other fowl.

A little Cotija, and now the stuffed pumpkin is ready to return the favour and stuff you.

A little Cotija, and now the stuffed pumpkin is ready to return the favour and stuff you.

*A NOTE ABOUT CHORIZO: Depending on where you live, the sausage known as chorizo may come in one of two forms. Typically, in Southern California (where I live), it comes in a loose, uncooked state, sometimes packed in a typical intestinal sausage casing (or a plastic one), but it is also sometimes sold without a casing, much like any spiced ground meat. In many other places, including my homeland of Canada, chorizo is generally sold fully cured and has a texture not unlike a dry salame. Either one of these will work, but it’s entirely unnecessary to fry the dried version of chorizo; it can merely be diced (about 1/4 inch is good), and added to the pumpkin stuffing mix just like any of the other ingredients. [You should, however, peel off the casing before dicing it.]