Archive for May 2015
The award winning Sierra Vista Junior High Choir in concert! Their Spring Concert took place at Golden Valley High School on 5/28/15. MrsMowry, conducting.
- 1 oz morel mushrooms
- 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
- kosher salt
- freshly ground black pepper
- plain flour for dredging
- 1/4 cup clarified butter
- 1/3 cup chopped shallot, about 2 large
- 1 Tbsp minced garlic, about 3 cloves
- 1 cup Madeira wine
- 1 cup (8 oz) creme fraiche of sour cream
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 2 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
- Soak dried morels for 30 minutes in 3 cups very hot water. If you are fortunate enough to have fresh morels, wash 3 or 4 of them and cut them in half.
- Preheat the oven to 375*.
- Lift the morels carefully from the hot water in order to leave any grit behind in the liquid. Rinse a few times to be sure all the grittiness is gone. Discard the liquid and dry the morels lightly with paper towels. Set aside.
- Sprinkle the chicken breasts with salt and pepper. Dredge them in flour and shake off the excess.
- Heat half the clarified butter in a large saute pan and cook the chicken in two batches over medium-low heat until browned on both sides, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove to an ovenproof casserole.
- Add the rest of the clarified butter to the pan along with the shallots, drained morels and garlic. Saute over medium heat for 2 minutes, tossing and stirring constantly.
- Pour the Madeira into the pan and reduce the liquid by half over high heat, 2 to 4 minutes.
- Add the creme fraiche, cream, lemon juice, 1 teaspoon salt and 3/4 teaspoon pepper. Boil until the mixture starts to thicken, 5 to 10 minutes.
- Pour the sauce over the chicken and bake for 12 minutes, or until the chicken is heated through. To make ahead, refrigerate the chicken and sauce in the casserole and reheat slowly on top of the stove.
Source: The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
I’ve shouted from the rooftops about the quality of Velda’s cooking. She is a fabulous cook.
There’s a dark side.
Here’s a dialogue over our holiday weekend lunch, faithfully recorded for posterity. And you.
He said: The soup is, uh….
She said: I wish I could taste anything. I’m tired of this gunge. I haven’t been able to taste anything for 4 weeks.
He: Is this the last of this soup?
She: What do you mean? It was frozen.
He: It doesn’t have much texture. It’s like it was reheated.
She: No, it was frozen.
He: Oh. I’m happy for the onions that give it some crunch.
She: It has no meat in it. Do you have any ham?
He: I think so. But the pieces are really, really small.
She: I have no ham.
He: There’s a little piece. And there’s a little one.
She: No ham. But … here’s some chicken skin. How did that get in here?
He: Some what?
She: Chicken skin. See?
He: What are we eating? This isn’t some dog food or something that you froze and forgot about, is it?
She: No, this is ham and beans. I probably started it with some chicken stock.
He: Is it OK to eat?
He: How did you know what it was? Was it labeled?
She: It was labeled “French Bread Crumbs.”
She: That’s what the bag said. But it’s ham and beans.
He: Are you sure it’s OK to eat?
She: Of course.
He: So, there was a package labeled “French Bread Crumbs,” but it had ham and bean soup in it, but that soup had chicken skin in it. Is it safe to eat?
She: Sure. Maybe I used chicken stock.
She: Maybe I should label things better.
He: Ya think?
The lunch was filling, and the conversation was lively. That’s all I’ll commit to at this point.