Okay, so this diary is bait and switch, as there's not a thing in it about The Devil, aka Satan, The Prince of Darkness. There aren't even recipes for deviled eggs or ham.
::stares at floor, shuffles feet::
Um, sorry. But I just had to get the words LOS DIABLOS on the pages of dKos --- although I suppose I could claim The devil made me do it! especially given my plans to boldly announce what I want for Christmas.
Still, it's not entirely deceptive because I do want to talk about capers. No, not that kind --- sheesh! --- but this:
Photo snitched from Mediterranean Climate Gardening.
You see, several days ago, I pulled a jar of capers from my refrigerator, drained it, mixed it with pressed garlic, olive oil, lemon, oregano and ground flaxseed, scooped into portabellas and roasted for 15 minutes. And it was delicious --- light, but filling, and very tasty.
Then, I remembered one of my favorite quick treats of several years ago: piles of thinly sliced sweet red peppers, fresh basil, shitake, garlic and capers, sauteed with a bit of Annie's Sesame and Shitake Dressing (but only after I'd poured the oil off).
And before I knew it, I was off and running. I purchased a new jar of capers, a giant one, and have been slipping them into everything from my morning eggs to roasted chicken.
So what are capers anyway?
According to Purdue University, what we call capers are actually the immature flower buds of the plant Capparis spinosa, while caper berries are the mature fruit. Their zesty piquancy is derived from a mustard oil, methyl isothiocyanate. The plant itself is extremely versatile, growing in harsh conditions with little to no care, and yielding both food and medicine from its bark, roots, shoots, flowers and leaves.
So not only are they tasty, they thrive in less than desirable circumstances, shunning rich soils for poor, rocky lands, and preferring intense heat to more moderate temperatures.
And they have a fascinating history. Clifford Wright notes:
Although capers are native to the Mediterranean, it is likely they were brought to Provence from Crete by the Phocaeans, Greeks from Asia Minor, who settled near Marseilles in the sixth century B.C. The caper plant was known as tapeneï in Provençal, and the flower buds, the part of the caper used for culinary purposes, was the tapeno, which were preserved in amphora filled with olive oil since vinegar was not used at that time. The capers became mushed together in the amphoras to form a kind of pâté of crushed tapeno, the ancestor of the modern tapenade. This is why it is today known by the word for caper rather than olives, which is actually, in volume, the greater constituent ingredient. In the second century A.D., vinegar came to be used more in preserving and so too garlic, the great universal medication in the medieval period when the Greek physician Galen's medical theories were prevalent.
Even better ... [insert significant pause] ... they're good for you. The bark and leaves, and extracts made from such are used in Ayurvedic medicine for a range of disorders, including spleen, renal and hepatic complaints ... gout ... acute viral hepatitis and cirrhosis ... senile pruritis ... and anxiety neurosis. In Greece, the roots and shoots make a tea for rheumatism. Capers contain significant amounts of rutin (a bioflavonoid also found in rue and buckwheat), which has antioxidant properties, and which strengthens capillaries and amerliorates (?) the effects of LDL cholesterol.
And they reduce flatulence. Hmmm. Now there's a potentially handy piece of information.
But what do I do with them? They're ... weird!
They're not weird. Just stop it.
Capers are, in fact, a staple of Mediterranean cuisine, forming a kind of culinary triumvirate with olives and anchovies --- or garlic --- or sweet red peppers --- or ... They're found in tapenade (a spread made with olives, capers, anchovies and olive oil), the delectable eggplant dish caponata, meat and seafood dishes, and, of course, salads. They add piquancy and that certain something to all kinds of foods, livening up dog tired stews and making that boring salad simply pop.
Of course, if your preference is milk toast (which I love, actually), capers might not be for you.
For us gustatory adventurers, however, capers are yet another food of the gods.
Some people suggest rinsing or even soaking them before use, especially if they've been packed in salt. But I never have. The rationale is that it mellows the flavor and eliminates excess salt. But I don't use salt in cooking, so this isn't a problem for me. If you do, however, you might want to rinse or soak briefly before adding to any recipe.
As for which to purchase, I see no reason to break the bank on those slim jars of nonpareil capers. They're very nice, yes. But I just bought a jar of big old honkin' capers from Louisiana, and my, they're tasty. Just go to the olive section of your grocery and you should find all kinds to pick and choose from.
A Brief CaperPedia
nonpareil: A French term meaning "without equal," most often used in reference to small pickled capers from the region of Provence in France.
caper: immature flower bud from the caper plant which has been pickled in a vinegar brine or packed in salt.
caper berry: a very large caper, often used in martinis or eaten like olives.
Aside to gardening fiends
Yes, you can grow capers in the United States. They're commonly grown in California, and those of us in hot areas of the country should have no problem, although they'll need to be kept in pots and brought in during the winter. If you're in Minnesota, mmm, maybe not such a good idea.
Caper seeds are available from Italian Seed and Tool, although they're currently sold out. I haven't found anyone who sells the plants, but it might be a good little side business for someone with a green thumb.
And finally ... Recipes
Stuffed Mushrooms
I first drug out the capers because I was trying to figure out what to cook for Thanksgiving (you know --- the *Special Needs* Thanksgiving) and had decided portabellas might be the way to go. I found the following recipe in Craig Claiborne's New York Times Cookbook, and it's pretty darned good. I had to doodle with it a bit because I'm celiac, so the bread crumbs were out, but I simply substituted ground flaxseed and it worked out fine.
In addition, I tried it with and without the anchovies, and it's great both ways. Adding goat cheese, however? Mmmm, didn't work. I'm not sure why, but it wasn't bad - it just wasn't great.
The recipe itself calls for regular mushrooms. I used portabellas and found the amounts worked for about two and a half large ones. YMMV.
I also snuck some oregano in it and tried it with fresh thyme. Both work.
And finally, no, the recipe doesn't mention capers. Yes, I used them anyway.
Stuffed Mushrooms
24 medium to large mushrooms
1/4 cup olive oil
1 2 oz can flat anchovy filets
1 garlic clove (recipe calls for minced, I pressed)
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/4 cup soft fresh bread crumbs (or ground flaxseed)
1/4 cup chopped parsley
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 350. Remove stems from mushrooms. Chop and saute in 3 tablespoons of the oil. Chop the anchovies with the garlic (I chopped the capers in with them, as well). Add lemon juice. bread crumbs (or ground flaxseed), parsley and sauteed stems. Mix and season with pepper. Fill the caps with the mixture, drizzle remaining oil over them and bake for 15 minutes.
Roast Chicken
Easy easy easy easy easy!
Get a nice whole chicken --- not too big, not too small. Something that will fit on that standing rack thing.
Preheat oven to ~ 325, maybe 350. (350 is too hot in my oven, but YMMV).
Take lots of garlic cloves and slice somewhat thinly --- not too thin, but somewhat. Slip slices beneath the skin over all of the chicken.
Then, slip capers beneath the skin. You can be as sparing or as extravagant as you want --- it's up to you.
Truss wings so they don't hang down. Squeeze lemon all over the skin and into the body cavity. Rub inside and out with either oregano or fresh thyme.
Put chicken on that standing rack thingie, and place in pan large enough to catch all the fat. Put into oven and loosely drape foil over, so skin doesn't cook too quickly. Remove foil after about 45 minutes, so skin can brown.
Total cooking time for me was around 1 1/2 hours. But my oven runs hot.
This was just yummy and yielded some great leftovers. The day after, I served slices of the breast cold with a faux curry sauce made by mixing some Madras curry paste and Brown Cow low fat yogurt. Now, for the life of me, I can't find this paste online, but I purchased it from a local international grocery, and just love it. It's very heavy on the tumeric, chile and cloves, and makes a nicely spicy, but not sweet, curry.
Then, yesterday, I made a broth with the carcass and remaining meat. I'm soaking some dried shitake mushrooms in it as we speak for a dish I want to make in the next day or so --- you know, the one with sauteed sweet red peppers, basil, garlic, capers, etc. and a dash of Annie's Sesame and Shitake Dressing (with oil drained off). I'm going to try and figure out how to make the Annie's dressing myself --- it doesn't look hard, but we'll see.
Bonus Recipe: On Next Week's Menu - Olive Salad
It's been a looooong time since I had an olive salad, and this one is making my mouth water. I'll likely make some adjustments, adding equal parts green and Kalamata olives, and probably chopping them just a bit. I might also add sweet red pepper, and will definitely toss the celery --- I love celery seed, but the ribs bug me. And I'll add some fresh parsley. Otherwise, I have the feeling this is going to be a very good recipe.
From Epicurious:
Sicilian Olive Salad
This recipe can be prepared in 45 minutes or less but requires addtional resting time.
2 1/2 cups large green olives (about 1 pound)
3 celery ribs
1 carrot
1 small red onion
1 garlic clove
1/2 cup drained caperberries
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano leaves or 1 1/2 teaspoons crumbled dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
In a large sieve rinse olives and drain well. Thinly slice celery, carrot, onion, and garlic and in a bowl stir together with remaining ingredients. Marinate salad, covered and chilled, at least 1 day and up to 3 days. Bring salad to room temperature before serving.
Serves 6 to 8 as an antipasto.
Addendum: What I want for Christmas
Very simple: a solar food dehydrator. Not one of those silly white hanging things, but something durable.
And, no, I don't want the plans for making my own solar dehydrator. If you knew how obsessed I get with the details, you'd understand why --- it would take me three years to make it.
And I want it by next summer.
And nothing with electricity.
There. I've said it.
Oh and, by the way ...
The diet's going great! The next time I'm up, I'll talk about it. I really fell off the wagon over Thanksgiving and definitely put a few pounds back on, but I'm back at it. More details in a future WFD?.
And don't forget the birds!
Please put some suet out for them if you're in a cold climate. But if you have cats, put it somewhere the cats can't watch it and hunt the birdies.
Your host next week: the always illuminating tvb.
Soooo ... what are you having for dinner tonight? Any smashing food successes this week? Disasters? Let's dish!