LASAGNA--VIA ITALY, MINNESOTA AND CHEF G's AMAZING MIND

Hi folks, Chef G. here and, boy oh boy, do I have a recipe for you today?  That was a statement--not a question--so I really should remove the question mark.  I'm in a good mood though, so I'm going to let it stand.

Perhaps you noticed the halo over my head in the photo at the top of this page.  I assure you, however, I am not Jesus.  I'm just a humble, world famous, celebrity chef.  Sure, cooking excellence has helped me achieve a certain degree of holiness, but I'm not sure I deserve a halo.  On the other hand, who am I to argue with the culinary gods?

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Sometimes I wonder if my braggery and boastfulocity schtick is wearing thin.  Sometimes, I think my blog should take on more of an aura of sophistication.  Sometimes I think that if I took this business more seriously, I could get paid billions of dollars instead of the hundreds of millions I currently make.

Then, I come to my senses.  I'm not going to sell my soul to the devil that is conformity.  I must be true to myself.  Cooking and bragging about it on a blog are ARTS, not popularity contests.  I say, "look elsewhere if you want seriousness, sophistication, and fancy recipes." 

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I'll be making lasagna today.  It's a food that is not pronounced the way it's spelled.  Think "la-zahn-ya"--not la-sag-na."  I don't know much more about the Italian language than that.  

This isn't my first foray into Italiano chefery though.  Several of you might remember when I made an extraordinary pizza here on the Chef G. Cooking Channel.  I made my own pizza sauce, mixed my own sausage, tossed my own crust, and cut up my own toppings.  Good times!  I recall making another pasta dish on another occasion, but I can't remember what it was.

Now I'm back to teach you how to make the best lasagna you've ever eaten.  At least, that's how I HOPE my lasagna comes out today.  Read on to see how I did it.

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The deliciousness starts by browning a pound and a half of lean hamburger and 1/2 pound of mild Italian sausage, along with a cup of chopped onion and two cloves of garlic.

  

Then you add a 28-ounce can of petite diced tomatoes (with all the juices), 12-oz. of tomato paste, and, ya know, like, a tablespoon each of salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning.  Cover the pan and simmer for an hour or so. 

While the sauce simmers, whip up this delicious blend of cottage cheese (24-oz.), Parmesan cheese (1/2 cup), Mozzarella cheese (1/2 pound), parsely (2 tbsps), and two whisked eggs.

Of course, you've got to cook up the lasagna noodles too.  Be sure to make them al dente.  (I don't mean to be condescending but, al dente means "not too soft.")

Now it's time to smear butter around a 13" X 9" baking dish.  For added non-stick protection, I like to add a dollop of olive oil.

Here comes the fun part.  Like clothing for cold weather survival, lasagna is all about layering.  In this case the layering begins with scooping out some of that fine red sauce you've been simmering and splattering it onto the bottom of the baking dish.

It almost looks good enough to eat already, but don't do it.

The next layer will be strips of al dente lasagna pasta.

The third layer will involve spreading the 3-cheese mixture over the pasta.

Did you have fun with the layering?  If so, you're in for a treat.  You get to do it again.  Three more layers in the exact same order.

But there's MORE!  Another layer of noodles, topped by another half-pound of delicious Mozzarella cheese.

If it doesn't cause a heart attack, you are going to love this.

Hopefully, you've pre-heated your chef's oven to 375-degrees (F).  Sometimes I get so carried away that I forget to provide instructions in the proper order.  Not to worry--you can do this step now.  When the oven reaches the 375-degree mark, you can watch Chef G.'s instructions on how to put the lasagna into the oven.

After about 45 minutes in the oven, check on your creation.  If the cheese hasn't melted, let it bake a little longer.  If the cheese is melted and golden brown, it's ready to be taken out.  If the cheese has burned into a hideous black, crusty mess, well, that's not good.  That was probably your fault, not mine. 

 

In this case, I've achieved perfection.  True, there is a little blackness on the edges, but that provides a nice bit of crunchiness.  Now all you have to do is cut it up into 3-4" squares, scoop them onto plates, and chow down.

In accordance with the rules of "truth in food blogging," I must reveal I made a smaller batch of lasagna than the recipe indicates.  Mrs. Chef G. is visiting her family in Spokane, WA, so I reduced the recipe by about one-third.  Even so, it was way too much for me to eat by myself.  So, I brought about half of it over to my next-door neighbors, and I still have at least one more meal for myself.

 

 

FRIED RICE IS NOT JUST A SIDE DISH

 

Hi folks, I'm really on a roll here--two episodes in two weeks.  I think I've been motivated by the record number of views The Chef G Cooking Channel has received over the last month.  I'd like to think I've gone viral and I've become a major Blogspot influencer.  I'm especially a big hit in Singapore.  More than 90% of my readership has come from that southeast Asian city-state.

I'd also like to think Singaporeans appreciate my wit and charm and sophisticated cooking techniques, but I think what's really going on is that Singapore is a major hub for what internet geeks call "bots."

I don't care.  Bots, humans, animals, alien beings from outer space--they're all welcome here.

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Today's meal is going to be Fried Rice.  I'm a big fan of Asian food, and this is the third Asian dish I've featured on my blog.  True, fried rice isn't generally considered a meal.  It's more like something you'd order to go along with your main course of Szechuan shrimp or Mongolian Beef.  But when you add some meat to fried rice, it becomes a well-rounded meal of vegetables, starch, carbohydrates, protein, and chili peppers.

I'm wasting time.  Let's get down to the cooking.

a

Eggs are prominent in Asian cuisine.  I start with one whole egg and an egg white separated from the yolk.  I hear egg whites have less colesterol, but I don't worry about that health stuff too much.  

Whisk the whole egg and egg white with all the energy you can muster.

Then you just make a batch of scrambled eggs and set them aside.

Cook up a couple cups of rice, cut some chicken into small pieces, chop up some onions and carrots, and pour 1/4 cup of frozen peas from a bag.

More pouring.  In this case, pour some olive oil into a heavy wok.

Stir fry the chicken on high heat for a couple minutes.  Set the meat aside.
 

Add more olive oil to the wok and saute the onions.  Oh man, that smells delicious.

Add the carrots and chicken.  Stir frequently for a couple minutes.  Then add the scrambled eggs and peas just before serving. 

OH YEAH!

I forgot to mention that at the end, I added soy sauce, red pepper flakes, and an amazingly delicious Japanese stir fry sauce I recently discovered. 

Dig in, dudes and chicks.

Two Classic Summer Sandwiches

 

Hi folks, Chef G. here.  As you may have noticed, I've been on a long hiatus from my famous cooking blog.  But just because I've been gone for what seems like ages, don't start thinking that I'm a no-good lazy bum of a chef.  Ohhhh no!  No, no, no!  Quite the contrary, actually.  I bought an expensive new chef's hat, I've been busy researching high quality food products, I've been working on my chefological skills, and I've been creating delicious dishes like a madman.  I hope you'll agree that there is no madman like Chef G. on a cooking mission.  Anyway, I'm happier than heck to be back so that I can fulfill all of your foodie dreams.

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Here's the deal about today's episode: It's all about sandwiches.  Nice, cool, summery sandwiches.  Classic sandwiches done Chef G. style.  I'm just in time too.  There is still a glimmer of summer left before the snow and ice of autumn return to frigid Minnesota.  If you live in areas further north than Minnesota and winter has already arrived, you can save these fine recipes for next year.  And if you are one of my five or six fans in the southern hemisphere, summer is just around the corner and you'll be basking in warm sunshine & cool sandwiches in no time. 

PART ONE:  The LTB

Perhaps you've heard of a "BLT."  I don't like that name.  It brings images of a belt, or a bullet, or a blot.  Who would want to eat one of those things?  Not me.  That's why I refer to my sandwich as an "LTB." By rearranging the first letters of the ingredients--lettuce, tomatoes and bacon--I miraculously invented an all-new classic sandwich.  Pretty clever on my part, I must say.

Here is how you can make an LTB of your own:

It all starts with good bacon--thick-cut bacon that has at least as much meat as fat.  (It's nice if you have a next-door neighbor who buys half a pig at a time from a reputable butcher and shares some of it with you.)

Broil the bacon until it's crispy, but not TOO crispy.  The goal should be a nice mix of chewy and crispy.  (Frying the bacon in a cast iron pan is even better, but Mrs. Chef G. doesn't like me to do that because she claims I don't do a good enough job cleaning up the bacon grease that splatters all over the stove and countertops.)

 

While broiling your bacon to chewy/crispy excellence, cut a fresh garden tomato into thin slices.
Again, it helps to have a neighbor across the street who invites you to pick as many of her tomatoes as you can. 

The advantages of leafy green lettuce from the local food co-op cannot be overestimated.

Pretty much any good bread will do, but I like sourdough from the bakery.

After the bacon is removed from the oven, let the grease drain onto paper towels.

At this point, put a couple pieces of sourdough bread in the toaster, take a break, and relax with a nice IPA.  (That will help you resist scarfing down all the bacon before lunch time.)  Then you can start assembling the LTB in the following order:

Smear some mayonnaise onto the toasted bread.

Next comes a big chunk of green-leaf lettuce . . .

 . . . followed by a few strips of the meaty bacon . . .

. . . followed by a couple slices of sweet, garden-fresh tomatoes . . .

. . . then another big leaf of lettuce.  Slap the other slice of toasted sourdough bread on top of it all and chow down.  It doesn't get much better than that on a hot summer day.

Mmmmm

Part Two:  The Chicken Salad Sandwich

In case you've forgotten, I have featured sandwiches here on the Chef G. Cooking Channel before.  But they've always been hot sandwiches like a grilled cheese, a reuben, a burger, a bratwurst, a hotdog, etc.  I'm here to tell you that cold sandwiches like the LTB can be equally delicious.  Here comes another one!

Most people call it a Chicken Salad Sandwich.  I do too, though I was tempted to change the name to "Chef G's Celery-Onion-Mayo-Salt-Pepper-Mustard-Sandwich-With Heaps of Chicken."

My recipe says it all, but I'll show some pictures anyway.

The ingredients for a scrumptious summer sandwich.  The chicken is what sets my recipe apart from other chicken salad sandwich recipes.  I grilled chicken thighs yesterday and chopped up the leftovers today.  The smoky flavor from the grill adds a lot of special specialness.

Pour them all together in a bowl and stir.

Then it will look like this.

Smear some of the mixture onto a slice of toasted sourdough bread.  (Yup, sourdough is my favorite for summer sandwiches.) Eat like there is no tomorrow.

Thank you for tuning in to the Chef G. Channel and enduring my shenanigans once again.  See you next time?

PHO FOR Y'ALL

Hi folks,

Chef G. is back.  I haven't produced a new episode in several months, and I bet you thought I'd never have the gall to show my face here again.  Well, you're wrong.  I have no shame when it comes to posting ridiculous food articles on The Chef G. Cooking Channel.  In fact, the idiocy that results from my lack of shame is what makes this blog famous all over the world.

Anyway, the dish I have in store for you today will absolutely blow your mind--assuming everything goes according to plan.  It's a Vietnamese soup called "Pho."  Perhaps you've heard of it?

My first experience with Pho occurred in the city of Seattle about 15 years ago.  That's when I still thought it was pronounced "foe."  Thank goodness the menu informed me the correct pronunciation is "fuh" before I embarrassed myself by ordering a bowl of "foe" when the restaurant owner took my order.   

That batch of Pho was unbelievably delicious, and, in my opinion, it was all about the broth.  I'm no rookie when it comes to soup broth, I might add.  I've slurped homemade soups all across the country.  Heck, I've even had canned Campbell's and Progresso soups.  None of those fine products were any match for the authentic Vietnamese Pho broth I had on that day in Seattle.

I've had Pho several times since then, and EVERY SINGLE TIME I've been amazed by the flavor of the broth.  It was imperative that I try to make it on my own one day.

That day has come.

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Every year, I like to prepare something special on Super Bowl Sunday.  I don't know why, but American football's biggest day goes hand-in-hand with food.  I also don't know why I thought of going with Pho this year, but it probably had something to do with some kind of psychedelic broth flashback.

Look, I've made homemade broth before.  All you have to do is throw a bunch of bones, meat fat, onions, celery and carrots in water, and boil it together for a few hours.  It's easy.

Yesterday, I looked up some Pho recipes on-line, expecting them to be similarly simple.  Um, NO!  Not even close.  It might be the most complicated thing I've ever made, and there were a ton of ingredients.  Some of them were things I have never heard of before.  WTF is a star anise, for example?  Or a daikon radish? 

I came up with a composite of all the recipes I found and created my own personal recipe.  Then I went out to buy the most essential ingredients . . . even cloves, which I hate.  I sure hope this experiment works out.  Usually I test out my recipes before I put my reputation on the line.  Not this time.  I'm venturing blindly into the Vietnamese culinary night, hoping for the best Pho ever.  Good luck to ME!

It starts with 5 pounds of beef shanks and neck bones added to 3 quarts of water.

The second step is to char a large, sliced onion and a fresh, halved ginger root under the broiler.  The charring releases the sugars contained within.

Next, toast peppercorns, cloves, 6 smooshed cloves of garlic, and 4 star anise pods on a skillet. 

  

The star anise not only LOOKS cool, but it also produces a strong scent of black licorice.

Then there is the daikon.  It's like no other radish I've ever known.  It looks weird and it's kind of rubbery.  That's okay, I'm adventurous and I'm not gonna question Pho genius-ness. 

Three chunks of skinned Daikon, cinnamon sticks, shallots

So, you'll want to throw all of the stuff in the previous pictures into the pot with the meat bones and water.  Boil it all for AT LEAST three hours.  Longer than that is even better.  In my case, I could only take five hours of that incredible aroma wafting through my house before I gave in.

It looks almost as good as it smells.

Then I poured the brown liquid through a fine meshed strainer into another soup pot.  The strained broth was clear, aromatic and beautiful.  I brought it back to a hard boil.

In the meantime, I prepared some toppings for the soup:  sliced green onion, cilantro leaves, bean sprouts, and limes.

And I filled the bowls with thinly-sliced top sirloin steak, thinly sliced yellow onion, and ramen noodles.  (Rice noodles are the preferred noodles for Pho, but I went with ramen because, to me, they taste a hell of a lot better.)

Perhaps the coolest thing about Pho is how you cook the raw steak, onions and noodles by pouring the boiling broth over them and let the concoction rest for a minute or two.  Incredibly, they cook to perfection.

Then I sprinkled the bean sprouts, green onions, cilantro and lime juice over the whole shebang.

The finished product.

My soup was delicious, but very expensive to buy all the ingredients myself.  Honestly, I think it's more cost effective, and just as tasty, to buy your Pho from a Vietnamese restaurant.

Your favorite chef with a bowl of hot soup on a chilly Minnesota Superbowl Sunday.  Bon Apetit!