Category Archives: honey

Weeknight Wondermeal: Ginger Honey Glazed Salmon and Scallops, with Pear, Avocado, and Walnut Salad

This dinner is dedicated to some very special friends, for whom – to protect the innocent (and to avoid prosecution by FERPA) – I shall use a delightfully Victorian convention of referring to them by initials only (in no particular order – to avoid any implication of favoritism): AC, TP, KN, MS, CG, TD, CH, AL, SC, and SV. They not only invited me into their summer homes to enjoy lovely dinners prepared by them with affection and good humor, but they inspire me daily with their grace, wit, intelligence, youthful vigor, and general wonderfulness.  However, I am also spurred by a particular comment made by two of the above listed group —  a pair of ladies who suggested that my Weeknight Wondermeals, recipes I tout as super-simple and très-cheap, were “so fancy, and way too complicated!” What the what?  Dear girls, these offerings are the most basic of basics! If you can execute a successful Western blot, or re-engineer the severed limbs of an army of axolotl, you can TOTALLY make any Weeknight Wondermeal, if you have the right stuff in the kitchen.  To wit: tonight’s delectable dinner.  A tender, succulent, juicy salmon filet encrusted with honey and ginger oil, plus a similarly prepared but-also-soy-sauced scallop, served with a super-food salad.  I dare you, young friends, to make this dinner (note to TP: 86  the walnuts!): the effort is simple, but the reward is sublime!

Ginger Honey Glazed Salmon and Scallops, with Pear, Avocado, and Walnut Salad

.75-1lb filet of salmon
2 very large scallops (these equalled .3lb)
1 cup honey
1/2 cup ginger oil (or fresh grated ginger blended with EVOO)
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 avocado
1 fresh pear
1 small white onion
fresh arugula
baby tomatoes
parmigiano reggiano
1/4 cup crushed walnuts
sea salt, fresh cracked black pepper, fresh snipped chives (for garnish)

Since I keep honey, ginger oil, and soy sauce in my pantry, my shopping list was pretty slim.  The most expensive items were these specimens of seafood: two huge, fresh sea scallops, and a lovely bright pink wedge of king salmon.  I want them to marinate a bit before I cook them, but they need to do so in separate bags.  Let me explain…

The salmon gets 3/4 cup of honey, 3 oz of ginger oil — a product I purchased at a nearby Asian supermarket, for about $2.49 — and lots of fresh cracked pepper.

I remove the adductor muscles from my scallops (here’s a pic), and then they get the rest of the honey and ginger oil, with the addition of the soy sauce – which is going to add just the right umame to the experience.  I seal both bags up nice and tightly, after removing as much air from them as I could, then I chuck ‘em in the fridge to marinate for about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, we plug in Little Red and get him all hot and bothered.  Clayton fashions a simple tray out of some foil paper, since we want to catch and cook the marinade as well as the proteins.  You’ll see what I mean a couple steps from now.

I brush a little EVOO onto the portion of the foil that will cook the scallops, but I want to skin of the salmon to stick to the foil (it will make it easier to remove the fish-flesh (and nothing but) later), so I leave that side clean.

The salmon goes on first, and I pour the marinade carefully over it’s pink yumminess to coat it.  It doesn’t matter if it spills onto the foil — in fact, it’s good for some of it to do just that.  As it cooks, the honey will thicken and brown, making a nice glaze.  Again, you’ll see what I mean soon.

The scallops go on next, but they’re doused in less of their marinade, since the soy will have already permeated the meat.  I do save both marinades, in case I want to add more a the halfway point.  For now, though, I lower the lid and walk away for 10 minutes.

My salad tonight was inspired by the similarity between the shape of a pear, and the shape of an avocado.  I surmised that if they had the same figure, perhaps they would go well together…  Yes,  yes – there are all sorts of things wrong with that supposition, but in this case it worked.  I removed the pit out of my avocado, and removed the seeds from my pear, before slicing each half into an equal number of thin wedges.

After fanning the pear slices onto my plates, then layering a fan of avocado over that, I toss some arugula with thin slices of white onion, some shavings of parmigiano reggiano, salt, pepper, and EVOO.

After 10 minutes, my seafood is halfway done, and – as you can see – the honey in the marinade has started to caramelize.  Using a basting brush, I get as much of that honey off the foil and onto the exposed flesh of my fish – top and sides.  It’s slickery — meaning it doesn’t stick to the fish very well unless you sort of scoop it onto the brush and dab it onto the pink.  Be patient, and get as much honey to stick to the fish as you can — it will be SO worth it.

Instead of basting the scallops, I rub them into the marinade darkening on the foil before flipping them.  It’s just like basting, but this time I’m going bottom up instead of top down.

See?  Even through the foil, the scallops are taking on lovely grill marks.  I close the lid for 10 more minutes, and watch the sun sink lower on the horizon over this hot summer day.

When I lift the lid again, my scallops are done (so I remove them to a warm plate to hold), and the honey/ginger marinade for the fish has turned a deep, dark brown.  Never fear!  This is what we wanted!  Using my basting brush one more time, I transfer as much of that black honey to the fish as I can.

Like so!  I lower the lid for another 5 minutes, go indoors, plate my salad, then come back out to fetch supper.  The good thing about using the foil is I only have to pick that up and bring the whole thing inside – no muss, no fuss!  Using a long, narrow spatula, I divide the filet into two equal portions, lifting the fish right off the skin which is stuck to the foil paper.  The flesh slides right off.

After finishing my salad with a couple home-grown cherry tomatoes and a sprinkle of crushed walnuts (for crunch), and garnishing the seafood with snipped chives, we’re ready to dig in.  The whole dinner has taken about 30 minutes of activity, and it cost only about $20 (plus pantry items, like the honey, soy, and ginger oil).  But what deliciosity!

The salmon is sweetly encrusted, with tender, moist flesh and a wee snap from the black pepper; the scallops are succulent and sweet, with the additional amped up savor of rich soy; and the salad is inspired: the fragrant, firm pear is perfectly complimented by the soft, nutty avocado, and the peppery arugula, salty cheese, and crunchy nuts fill the palate with delectable complexity, richness, and freshness.  Each bite was sheer enjoyment!

As the sun sets over Hamilton Street, setting the sky on salmon fire, Clayton and I dig into our salmon dinners with gusto.  So, dear friends — and you know who you are — are you up for trying this yourselves? I promise you’ll enjoy it!

Sweet ‘N Soy Seared Tuna with Broiled Cana de Cabra and Ginger Dressed Greens

It has been some couple of weeks – as in, chock full o’ unfamiliar happenings.  Since Clayton and I are nothing if not creatures of habit, said happenings have really thrown us into disarray.  But my arm has healed and is fully functional again, the particular challenges of study card week (my Harvard peeps feel me)  are over, and Clayton is home from his knee surgery – convalescing on the couch, but home, and happy, and hungry for my cooking.  A proper shout out to the folks at New England Baptist Hospital is due: thanks for taking such excellent care of my man!  He has done nothing but rave about your care, your kindness, and your customer service, and he’s an easier patient now as a result.  Danke, dear friends, danke…

But while Clayton is strapped to the sofa and drugged up on dilaudid, my dinners are going to need to be lighter to compensate for his inactivity and loss of appetite.  So it’s salads or soups, one bowl meals or single skillet suppers, tinier portions and fatter-freer flavors.  Hence tonight’s supper: tiles of tender tuna steeped in classic Asian flavors like soy, ginger, garlic, and sesame, all sweetened with honey and reduced to a rich glaze, atop a bed of gingered greens, and accompanied with a seared slice of gamey goat cheese.  Punchy and piquant; the perfect balance of raw and roasted; a harmony of salad and sea and cream.

Sweet ‘N Soy Seared Tuna with Broiled Cana de Cabra and Ginger Dressed Greens

3/4 fresh yellowfin tuna, at least 1″ thick
soy sauce
honey
sesame oil
water
1 1″ knob ginger, peeled and grated – about 2 tbs
2 gloves garlic, peeled and grated – about 2 tbs
1 stalk lemongrass, tenderized and chopped finely – about 1 tbs
5-6 leaves fresh mint
1 small bunch scallions, chopped
1 Meyer lemon, juiced
fresh spring lettuce mix
1 bunch radishes
2 1″ thick slices of cana de cabra
sea salt, cracked black pepper, EVOO, white vinegar

I start with my marinade, which has equal amounts honey, sesame oil, soy sauce, and water, along with 1/2 of each of my grated ginger and garlic.

This I whisk together, making sure all the honey is dissolved.

I should really work with lemongrass more often – it’s yummy.   But its tough fibers and woody stalks are a little intimidating, until I beat the crap out of it with the flat edge of my chef’s knife to separate the sweet pith from the spitting pffflat! A quick, vigorous chop up the length of the spine and the gentle flavor of this hard grass is deposited on the surface of my board like the shorn shreddings of an already short beard.

I’ve trimmed my lovely loin of tuna into one perfect rectangle, and one sort of weird shaped piece.  The first I’ll use for my main presentation – since presentation is half the enjoyment – the scrap for filler. I place my fishes into my marinade, spoon the deliciousness over every surface, then toss everything in 1/2 of my lemongrass before setting the bowl aside so it can all soak in.  I let this stew for 15-20 minutes, while I prepare everything else.

I love radishes.  Clayton didn’t like them when we first met, but when I first prepared this perfect simple radish salad for him, he was converted.  I slice them very very thinly, using my mandoline, then toss them in 1/2 EVOO, 1/2 super-cold water, 1 tsp white vinegar, a *very*generous* serving of sea salt and a hearty pinch or two of cracked black pepper. As this marinates – the radishes will soften and mellow, while the dressing absorbs the sharp from the radish, and the salt peppers it all up right.  8-10 minutes sitting in the fridge and this sliced beautiful is ready to enjoy.

At this point, I also chop up my scallions, throwing a bunch into my radishes, a bunch into my fish bowl (which I toss again, for good measure), reserving a few tablespoons for garnish.

In a large bowl, I toss my spring greens with a handful of washed, rinsed, and roughly torn mint leaves.  With the rest of my soy sauce, sesame oil, honey, ginger, garlic, and lemongrass  - plus a few splashes of water and the juice from 1/2 my lemon, I whisk together the salad dressing, which I then toss with my greans.

This nubbin’ of lovin’ is cana de cabra, a goat (“cabra”) milk cheese log (“cana”) with a striated bloomy ring ripening inwards through two more textures of cream.  It’s all the best of a chevre, a double creme brie, and a weird cheese wafer, in one cylindrical package.

Lolita’s crappy oven doesn’t have a bottom broiler, so getting what I want to sear close enough to the top coils to truly broil requires some jerry-rigging.  I’ve learned that turning over a typical Pyrex loaf pan (or any other 2″ deep pan) allows me to raise my cook surface high enough off my top rack to transform it into the salamander I want it to be.  I line my pan with foil, which I sort of fold upwards around the edge to make a bit of a catch pan (since my cheese might melt and slump), and set it with my oven, set to broil.

At the same moment, I throw my fish into my pre-superheated non-stick pan.  I sear it for about 1 minute…

… on each side, including the narrow edges — all the way ’round.  I want a cold, raw center, but perfectly seared edges cooked to at least 1/4 way in.  The marinade on the tuna caramelizes and crisps — this is good.  It’s flavah, baby!

After my tuna is cooked to my whims and desires (about 8 minutes all together), I remove it to my cutting board to settle for a few minutes, while I add the marinade to my hot pan to reduce.  With a swirl every every few moments, it does so quite nicely, making the perfect glaze to finish my plate.

Oh, and after about 6-8 minutes, my cheese is SO READY to be plated.  Look at how perfectly caramelized it is!


A full-flavored nest of ginger-soy dressed tender greens, a tight mound of mellowed radish, red-bellied, totally tanned savory seared tuna, and a creamy, melty, goaty puck of cheese, drizzled with a rich glaze.  Light–fresh–sweet–nutty–milky–and straight from the sea.  With his leg outstretched on the couch, and his plate on his lap, Clayton dove into this delight with more gusto than a man 72 hours after surgery should have – which makes me happy.  Now he’s happy inside, and healing outside, and I got to enjoy a damn delicious dinner, too!  Lolita’s lighter side is gets to enjoy the sun for a few weeks.  While my husband gets better, so shall I.

Weeknight Wondermeal: Pork Chops with Grilled Apricot n’ Raspberry Compote


Here’s what makes a “weeknight wondermeal” in Lolita’s vernacular: very few, very fresh, but easily accessible ingredients; quick prep and cook time; and low cost.  Here’s what made tonight’s meal: several items from the farmer’s market, 2 items from Whole Foods, and a handful of things from the pantry; 20 minutes; $20.  I’m talking meals I whip together without really thinking about it — dinner decided on a dime and in the moment — quick prep to plate time, so I can enjoy the lounging on the couch and the drinking of the post-work beer.  Tonight there was much lounging, and several beers, and then a quick whip through the kitchen and a short visit with Little Red, and goshdurnit if we didn’t have a damn good, snappy savory sweet buttery sugary satisfying supper.  Spiced pork chops covered with grilled apricots muddled with sweet-tart honeyed raspberries fresh from the farm, and super sweet corn rolled in buttered bread and truffled salt: both homey and elegant, rich and tart, bright and balanced.  And it goes well with beer.

Pork Chops with Grilled Apricot n’ Raspberry Compote

2 bone-in thick cut pork chops
1 pint farm fresh raspberries
3-4 fresh apricots
2 ears farm fresh corn
Japanese mystery spice
honey
sesame oil
sea salt and black pepper
lemon juice
2 slices white bread
2 pats butter black truffle salt (optional)
scallions for garnish

These lovely raspberries are from Kimball’s Fruit Farm, located in Pepperell, MA, the best producers of heirloom tomatoes in the state, IMHO.  The  apricots are organic, from South Carolina, purchased at Whole Foods.  The corn was purchased at the Busa Farm Stand located in front of the historic Carty Barn just off Lexington Road (Rt. 2A) just outside of Concord.  It’s called “Supersweet” – and I can totally see why: it tasted like a Kellogg’s breakfast cereal (without the guilt).

And these are my lovely pork chops.  I asked my cool dude butcher to root around for two that each had both the rich, dark tenderloin and the leaner, lighter loin.  NICE.

My mystery spice: a gift from my dearest friend, who brought it home to me from a visit to Japan, in which there is a cacophony of flavors – salty, green, dare I say fishy?, sharp, spicy.  I will continue to snap pictures of its labels, in the hopes one of you, dear readers, will translate for me, and tell me what I’m eating.

Here’s the lid.  Whatever does it mean?

My pork has been liberally sprinkled with mystery spice, my apricots have been halved and pitted, and my corn has been stripped to just it’s innermost husks.  Everything goes out on Little Red, and the lid is lowered for 10 minutes.

After which time, my corn is ready to be turned (see the grill marks and browned kernels?)…

 … my chops to be flipped (see the lovely sear?), …

 … and my apricots to be pulled. I close the lid, and leave my corn and pork to cook for another 10 minutes, while I ready my quick compote.

My warm, grilled apricots are cubed and tossed with a handful of sweet, fresh raspberries, some salt and pepper, about 3 tablespoons of honey, a dash of sesame oil, and a squeeze of lemon juice.  This I very thoroughly roughly mix — a.k.a. “muddle” — which slightly crushes the berries and spreads the warmth of the pit fruit throughout the whole bowl.

A simple piece of white bread with a healthy pat of butter makes the perfect base for my incredibly sweet cob of fresh grilled corn.  The bread holds the butter in place, allowing me to roll my corn with its golden melting goodness all over.  A sprinkle of black truffle infused sea salt takes it up a notch.

 

My tender spiced pork chops are topped with the sweetartsavorywarm fruit sauce quick mixed from grilled apricots and red raspberries, thickened with honey, but nutty from sesame.  My sugar corn is buttery and umame, burstingly saccharin and blisteringly steamy.  The skies outside might be heavy with pending rain, but the sensation in my mouth is light, fresh, fruity, and delicious.