Creamed Chipped Ham & Collards

This just proves that flavor doesn't care where it comes from.

In anticipation of boiling some collards, I simmered smoked turkey necks for a long time in a pot of water, then added a ham bone that turned up in the process of catering a client's buffet.

This mongrel broth was not so much to look at. But I was certain it would lend some big flavor to our greens. Just before cooking the greens, however, I remembered a big hunk of leftover ham in the fridge. Now, there are a lot of things you can make with leftover ham. But if you haven't made creamed ham in a while, a vision of dinner begins to form.

Instead of pouring all that mongrel broth in the pot, I set aside two cups to make a sauce for my ham. I sauteed two shallots, cut into small dice, in 3 tablespoons butter. When the shallots were soft, I added 3 tablespoons flour and cooked that gently for just a few minutes. Then I poured in my 2 cups of broth and turned it into a sauce, adding some milk and finally a bit of half-and-half for richness. As you can see in the photo, you are looking for a gravy-like consistency. Add perhaps 1/3 cup crumbled cheddar cheese and stir until it has completely melted. Finally, add your ham, cut into dice, until it begins to look like creamed chipped ham and season it with salt, pepper and a bit of freshly ground nutmeg.

I also had some leftover riced sweet potatoes, so this was lunch: that velvety creamed chipped ham poured over sweet potatoes, with collards on the side. The sound you hear is my wife moaning over the creamed ham.

Lunch

Leftovers, consisting of "Dad's meatloaf" with mashed potatoes and collard greens.

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Shopping: none

This meatloaf, a recipe we've adopted from Tyler Florence, is now our favorite. The loaf itself consists of ground beef and ground pork with eggs, bread crumbs soaked in milk and a wicked relish made of red bell pepper, onion, tomato, ketchup and Worcesterhire sauce. Some of the relish is reserved for dressing the meat on the plate.

The loaf is shaped on a baking sheet, then topped with more of that relish and strips of Black Forest bacon. It's smokey delicious.

The collards were cooked in a smoked turkey neck broth and seasoned at the table with cider vinegar. I can hardly imagine a more decadent lunch.

Everything-in-the-Fridge Pizza

Pizza is something we sometimes save up for, meaning a ball of mozzarella cheese allowed to sit in the fridge for a few days while other ingredients accumulate as leftovers.

When the mood suddenly strikes, my wife the baker launches into a frenzy of kitchen activity, making the dough, proofing the dough, assembling toppings, sometimes making a sauce. Since one of our favorite pizzas is topped with caramelized onions and blue cheese, the process also involves a long, slow simmering of onions on the stove top, filling the house with that unmistakable caramelization aroma.

Last night the pizza maker was foraging in the fridge for all kinds of leftovers to go on the pizza. The one in this picture was made with previously frozen spinach, along with the remains of a tin of roasted red peppers and a fairly ancient tomato sauce. There were also two kinds of chicken pizza--one with barbecue sauce--caramelized onion without blue cheese, and daughter's favorite, pepperoni and cheese.

We were even able to enlist a container of previously grated Parmesan cheese. Not a bad night for cleaning out the fridge.

I may have previously mentioned that my wife makes the world's best pizza crust. We like it thin, just a little chewy and more on the well-done side. If you are so inclined, here is the recipe for the dough. It will make four medium-size pizzas, plenty of room to display all your leftovers. And you'll have tomorrow's lunch as well.

Lunch

Assorted leftovers from the fridge, constituting a vegetarian feast:

Roasted parsnips and carrots, boiled potatoes, chopped spinach, sauteed mushrooms, canned baby peas. Drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil. Season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Dust with leftover grated parmesan cheese.

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Shopping: none

Lunch

Leftover lamb shoulder chop with Romesco sauce, bulgar with lemon and black olives, smothered okra with corn and diced tomatoes.

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Shopping: none

We do love our leftovers, although this does sound like an add combo at first blush--a sort of Mediterranean-Caribbean fusion. In fact, it all went down quite nicely. The okra, of course, is from the garden. The season will soon be over for them, but we couldn't have asked for more from our sturdy band of okra plants. We've stewed them, curried them and pickled them and still they keep coming. What a great vegetable.

Lunch: Gypsy Soup with Poached Egg

We have an abundance of local, farm-fresh eggs from our CSA box. I can't think of a better use than in the soup we made with our farmer friend Brett's sweet potatoes.

Call me a freak, but I love finding liquid yolk in my soup spoon. It adds a velvety touch to the broth.

I also added some leftover cannellini beans
from the fridge (there are garbanzo beans in the original soup).

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Shopping: none

Breakfast

Turkey tetrazzini, reheated in the microwave.

Preparation time: 3 minutes

Shopping: None

But wait! you say. Isn't that the same turkey tetrazzini I made a week ago from our locally-grown, self-butchered, Thanksgiving turkey?

Right you are. And the noodles were handmade too, by my daughter and I. There was a whole pan of it. My wife and I had it for dinner once. The daughter refused (she was really disappointed that we added the turkey and onions and peas and stuff to perfectly fine noodles that would have been delicious just plain--in fact, she had us wash some in the sink.)

Well, the only person around here who likes to eat the same thing more than one day in a row is me. So turkey tetrazzini has been my breakfast for the last week. I don't mind. If it's delicious on day one, it's delicious on days two, three and four, far as I'm concerned. I do the same thing with stews, soups, rice dishes, cooked greens, pizza, you name it.

Any of you others out there belong to this category of secret repeat eater?

Dark Days: Turkey Tetrazzini

I am embarrassed to say how long this meal has been in the planning. But our leftover turkey from Thanksgiving has bounced from the fridge to the freezer and back again. Our CSA (local farm) delivery has been on haitus and I did not want to make the noodles for the tetrazzini without our local eggs.

Do I sound desperate, or what?

What it is, I think, is just guilt over the fact that I have not been able to source all of the ingredients for our food locally. Call it lack of preparation, lack of spunk, or just a beginner's floundering around. The turkey in this dish is the dark meat from the last drumstick and wing that I have been so carefully hoarding. The pasta is made with local eggs but King Arthur flour. The salad is from our garden, dressed with a honey-mustard vinaigrette from standard pantry items. (I'd even been saving the salad greens for this occasion--the weather has been so fluky, I wasn't sure we'd have any left in the garden to pick otherwise.)

Yesterday our CSA deliveries finally resumed. So when I arrived home from teaching my "food appreciation" classes in the evening, my daughter and I set to work making the pasta. It's a two-egg affair with a 50/50 mix of all-purpose flour and white whole wheat flour. I gave the dough a quick knead on the countertop, then fed it into our pasta machine while my daughter cranked. Turns out we make a great pasta making team and it's so easy, I wonder sometimes why we bother buying prepared pasta. We rolled the dough up to the next-to-last setting, resulting in a sturdy noodle once it was cut into linguine.

The golden, almost orange hue of the pastured egg yolks give the pasta a rich depth of color, while the addition of whole wheat flour produces a very satisfying chew.

The pasta is cooked in a big pot of salted water just to the al dente stage, then quickly drained and rinsed in cold water to arrest the cooking. Meanwhile, we sauteed onion and mushrooms and mixed these with frozen peas in a veloute sauce--a roux of butter and flour blended as for a gravy with homemade turkey stock and finished with a bit of heavy cream.

Layer the pasta and sauce in a greased casserole (a small square, in this case), dust with bread crumbs and bake in a 375-degree oven until the bread crumbs are golden brown and the sauce is bubbling. Scoop onto plates with the salad and serve.

(Note: for an even richer Tetrazzini sauce, try adding a tempered egg yolk and some Marsala wine.)

Fridge Overload

It seems like we haven't been to the grocery in weeks, yet after holiday meals and holiday parties, the refrigerator is groaning with food.

At a certain point, it's hard to tell what's in there. I set up a folding table in the kitchen and began to unload, sort through, rearrange, throw out (gasp...we hate to throw out food), and generally conduct some reconnaissance on the situation.

Here are the contents of the top two shelves where leftovers seem to accumulate most. I'll skip the commentary and just list them for you:

Several old pieces of lemon and limes
A 2-cup container of lemon and lime wedges
Some mouldy black beans
Cooked greens past their prime
A carry-out container of Chinese green beans, another of white rice
A very ripe persimmon
Two cups of cooked steel-cut outs
A Ziploc bag of fresh salad greens
Two cups of braised green cabbage
A 2-cup container of turkey hash
A 1-cup container of cooked brown Basmati rice
A 1-cup container of mouldering cooked sweet potatoes
A 1-cup container, half full, of Thanksgiving gravy
A half-full container of Egg Beater
A 4-cup container, half full, of braised red cabbage
A 2-cup container of pesto sauce
A 1-cup container, half full, of unidentified brown sauce
A small amount of sage mayonnaise
Two cups of bread pudding custard mix
A 4-cup container, half full, of cooked cranberry beans
A quart container, mostly empty, of apple cider
A trace amount of heavy cream (which I emptied into another container of half-and-half)
A small baggie of cooked carrots
A quart container, partially filled, of pomegranate juice
An 8-cup container, about one-third full, of chicken broth
An 8-cup container of turkey broth
Another 8-cup container, about two-thirds full, of another turkey broth
Two containers of lard
A 1-cup container of peanut butter butter cream
A 4-cup container of cooked Brussels sprouts
A trace amount of Chesapeake tartar sauce for crab cakes
A 2-cup container, about half full, of maple mustard
A 2-cup container of cooked slices of acorn squash
A 2-cup container of cooked purple potatoes
A 2-cup container, partially used, of low-fat cottage cheese
A 4-cup container, about half full, of cranberry relish
A large Ziploc bag containing a small amount of fresh bread crumbs
Two cups of cooked pasta noodles
A 4-cup container of radishes in water
A large Ziploc bag of white turkey meat
A large Ziploc bag of dark turkey meat
A large Ziploc bag of roasted ham
An 8-cup container, about half full, of chicken stew
One bunch of dill, wrapped in a moist paper towel inside a large Ziploc bag
A bottle of homemade ketchup, partially used
On open jar of roasted red peppers
One partially eaten/licked candy cane, half-wrapped in its original plastic
A very small slice of vegetable lasagna

We proceeded to eat for dinner the cooked squash, some of the red cabbage, the purple potatoes, some of the Chinese green beans and a handful of white rice. However, when we tried to serve out 8-year-old daughter a few of the carrots, she threw a fit and shut herself into a room upstairs to cry inconsolably, saying we (I) knew she didn't like carrots and why were we serving them for dinner.

Ah, parenthood.

Turkey Hash

You thought we were done with turkey?

We are coming to the end. But it turns out a 31-pound bird such as the one we butchered and served for Thanksgiving produces lots of meat, enough for several meals. I had frozen one of the wings and a drumstick together and recently defrosted them and spent a leisurely half-hour at the kitchen table picking off all the tender morsels.

The result is this hash, which started with some diced onion and a number of the crudite vegetables we displayed at a cocktail party last night, especially the baby purple potatoes and Brussels sprouts. After sauteeing the onion, I tossed in the other vegetables, cut into small pieces, and tossed over high heat with extra-virgin olive oil to achieve a little browning. Finally, I added the turkey, seasoned with salt and pepper and finished with some chopped parsley out of the garden.

To top it off, I poached an egg--a very fresh farm egg is best--and garnished with some grated Parmesan. This would make a fine meal anytime, breakfast lunch or dinner.

Breakfast

Spinach and mushroom lasagna.

Preparation time: 3 minutes

Shopping: none

Months ago we made a pan of lasagna to take to client dinners just in case someone requested a vegetarian entree. I cut the lasagna into large slices and stashed them in the freezer. Up they popped during my recent freezer clean-out. I figured they were too old to pass as client food anymore.

I moved them to the fridge to defrost. Now they serve admirably as a quick breakfast after a couple of minutes in the microwave. It was a very simple lasagna with no particular recipe: sauteed mushrooms, frozen spinach, ricotta and mozzarella cheeses, a bechamel sauce and nutmeg.

Quite delicious, even months later.

Turkey Mash

The last few days have been a race against time to get a houseful of leftovers into a form that can be easily eaten or easily stored away in the freezer.

In case you haven't noticed, we hate to waste food.

At the top of the list has been the remains of that 31-pound pastured turkey we cooked for Thanksgiving. A goodly portion of it went into the freezer last month, but I removed it to make room for all the soups I've been making lately. So there I had a freezer bag full of breast meat, and in the crisper drawer a second bag full of cooked fingerling potatoes.

Hence, turkey a la king over mashed potatoes--leftovers squared.

The way I make a big batch of turkey a la king is thus: In a large cast-iron skillet, saute about four cups sliced cremini mushrooms. They'll need plenty of extra-virgin olive oil and about a teaspoon of salt for seasoning. When those are done, saute a yellow onion cut into medium dice. Again, season with salt to draw the juices out and cook until the onions are just soft, about 8 minutes.

Meanwhile, put four tablespoons butter in a heavy pot to melt over moderate heat, then add four tablespoons flour, stir to make a roux and cook about five minutes. Do not brown. Since I had so much turkey stock made already, I heated three cups of that and when the roux was ready began pouring the stock into the roux--about a cup at a time--bringing it to a boil to thicken. When the stock has been incorporated and thickened, add about 1/2 cup heavy cream. The sauce should easily coat a spoon, not too thick. Season with salt and white pepper.

(For a richer sauce, you can also add an egg yolk. First temper the yolk with some of the sauce (stirring a few spoonfuls of hot sauce with the yolk in a small bowl), then add the yolk and cook another minute or two.)

Cut the turkey meat into bite-size pieces and add that plus the sauteed mushrooms and onions to the sauce. Add 1 cup frozen peas and for a final flourish, stir in 1 tablespoon Madeira or Marsala wine.

Traditionally, turkey a la king is served over puff pastry. But we aren't so fussy. Leftover potatoes seem like a perfect match to me. They can be reheated in the microwave and mashed roughly right on the plate. Or perhaps you already have some mashed potatoes poised for some action in the fridge. Simply ladle the finished turkey a la king over the potatoes, garnish with some chopped parsley and serve hot.

To me, this seems like a perfectly fine way to heat up the kitchen on a cold winter's night.

Lunch = Leftovers

Turkey breast in whole-wheat pita pocket, sage-infused mayo, cranberry relish, arugula from the CSA box.

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Shopping: none

Leftover Madness

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us, it's time to dig out from all the leftover food.

There were a couple of big pots of turkey stock in the cold room that needed to be broken down into smaller containers, labeled and frozen. One down, one to go.

On Sunday, friends agreed to help out by actually eating some of the leftovers in the form of dinner--open-faced turkey sandwiches with cranberry relish and gravy on sweet potato bread. (More about that later).

Part of my reward for helping our friend Mike butcher his turkeys was a stewing hen he had in his freezer. I originally thought I'd make it the center of a coq au vin, but then used the dark meat in our paella. Yesterday I turned the rest of the bird into soup and, at daughter's request, that was last night's dinner, with carrots, peas and linguine noodles.

Most of the weekend was spent making client meals. The leftover meat from our 31-pound turkey was begging to be included. Presto-changeo, turkey-a-la-king. The sauce was especially delicious with the addition of our very potent turkey stock. Whole Foods had run out of puff pastry (I can't even count the number of times that happened), so along with a 4-cup container of turkey-a-la-king, I sent the client two thick slices of toasted country bread. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention.

Still, I have several pound of turkey meat to deal with. Into the freezer, perhaps? Or will inspiration strike somewhere where we least expect it?

Yesterday I was finally able to turn my attention to the bowl of green tomatoes I'd picked during the big garden cleanup a week ago. I'd stashed them in the cold room, but some were not so green anymore. The morning started with the assemblage of a big pot of the green tomato and apple chutney I wrote about earlier. A very heady aroma fills the kitchen when all those tomatoes and apples, brown sugar and cider vinegar, ginger and cinnamon, get to boiling on the stove top.

While the chutney bubbled away and reduced down to its delicious chunkiness, a client dinner for Wednesday demanded that I shop for and prepare a Jewish pot roast, or chollent. (I'll write about that tomorrow). So the chutney, one day later, is still in its pot on the stove, waiting to be reheated and canned. And let me count the other chores awaiting: A pot of turkey stock to freeze, pounds of turkey meat to dispose of, sundry leftover sidedishes that haven't even been completely inventoried yet...

Will it ever end?

Fridge Scrounge for Breakfast

Brown basmati rice with local greens, cannellini beans, red pepper flakes and pecorino cheese.

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Shopping: none

Notes: Heat in microwave, season with extra-virgin olive oil, coarse salt, freshly ground black pepper.

I am big on cleaning out the fridge for breakfast. Does anyone else serve beans right out of the can? Next best thing to soaking dried beans. The greens were a mixed lot that came in our CSA package. I typically cook them down in boiling salted water, chop them up, then use them as an ingredient--breakfast, soup, bruschetta, frittatas. Whatever opportunity presents itself.

A Humble Lunch

I've been dreading the top shelf of my refrigerator. It's been haunting me like a creature out of an Edgar Allen Poe story.

Bags and bags of greens: the budding tops of tat soi, arugula blossoms, kale, collards, napini, cress--basically, all the stuff from our weekly farm subscription that's been piling up in there.

I didn't want to face it. I averted my eyes. I shirked the job I knew would have to be mine sooner or later. But today I decided to bite the bullet, pull all those Ziploc bags out of there and see if anything was still salvageable.

Well, it was. Pretty much. I hate to waste food. So I put a pot of water to boil on the stove and looked back in the fridge to congratulate myself on finally confronting my fears. With the extra bit of daylight, certain objects in the refrigerator now poked into view. A container of mashed turnips and potatoes, some seared Brussels sprouts. Another container of well-congealed cooking juices from braised lamb shanks.

It dawned on me that I was looking at the leftovers from Easter dinner that my wife had packed away and that had gone untouched in the intervening week. It was noon. I was hungry. Here, I thought with a bit of gladness, was my lunch.

I scooped the mashed turnips and potatoes into a bowl, made a depression in the middle, and plopped some of the jellied braising juices into the crater. The bowl went into the microwave. Three minutes later, voila! A piping bowl of taters with the world's richest gravy.

This humble meal needed just one more touch. So I grated some Parmesan cheese over the whole thing. I dipped the spoon, brought it to my lips, and suddenly I was reliving the whole Easter dinner experience. Visions of a melt-in-your mouth lamb shank danced in my head. All I needed was a glass of that fabulous Margaux wine...

I don't know what happened to the tradition of leftovers. Everyone is so busy trying to make up something new, something exotic (an asparagus chowder, perhaps?), when some of the best food is sitting right under our noses--or behind a bag of arugula.

My father used to designate Saturdays as leftover days. He'd haul everything out of the fridge, spread it out on the kitchen counter, then make great, groaning platefuls of food that brought back to mind every meal we'd had that week. The spaghetti, the fried pork chop, the mashed potatoes, the green beans...

Does mealtime always have to be an adventure? Do we really have to engage in an act of creation every time we put food in our mouths?

Sometimes I think simplicity is a surer path to sustenance. Maybe we should stop trying so hard to make things different and just eat leftovers.