Panko-Crusted Chicken with Mustard Sauce

 

 

Long before I became a dietitian, in my youthful days when I ate everything and anything without feeling guilty, I'd indulge in McDonald’s at least once a week. It was worse when I had to deal with a wave of homework, my parents left to go out for dimsum and I’d head to the golden arches (which was conveniently just below our apartment building). I always ordered the same thing: McChicken with fries. I loved the fried chicken. Skin that crisped and crackled in my mouth, like a mini fireworks party, it was the best part of my weekends as I stressed over mind-numbing calculus equations and English essays. Nowadays, I stay away from McDonald’s (except when it comes to an Oreos McFlurry) though I still eat the occasional fries (with spicy mayo!) when I dine out and try to make a conscious choice to eat less deep-fried foods.

 

But once in a while I have a hankering for fried chicken. Maybe because I forbid myself to eat it so all I can think about is eating crackly chicken skin, ripping meat off the bone, slathering some sauce, chew, chew, chew, swallow, and repeat. I wanted tender, juicy bits of chicken. I wanted to get my hands dirty. McDonald’s and KFC was out of the question, nor was I going to sacrifice vats of oil for deep frying. The solution, my friends, is panko.

Typically used in Japanese tempura, panko crumbs are light breadcrumbs. They don’t burn in the oven and retain their crispness. Here, I used them in chicken wings. I dredged them in an egg wash, coated them in panko breadcrumbs and before baking them for about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, I mixed together a mustard dipping sauce using whole grain mustard and lemon juice. It was easy peasy. The hardest part was whether to dig into my wings first or take these pictures during dinner, thankfully, I managed to do both. 

The crust is undeniably flaky, one bite into these wings and you hear multiple crackles as your teeth give way to moist strips of chicken. My mom and I ate these for dinner with mashed sweet potatoes and a brussels sprouts slaw (I always have a nice dish of veggies on the side). Now you too can relish in the carnal pleasure of eating meat without the deep-fryer. Go on, eat it double-fisted, I won't judge.

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Green Bean and Red Quinoa Salad

Like the other 50% of Torontonians that flocked to High Park to admire the cherry blossoms, I thought I'd share their beauty with you (if you haven't gotten sick of them already). I went  with my mom and cursed myself the whole time how I should have worn shorts. I didn’t believe how warm it was. It seemed implausible, an evil trickery from the weather people. The moment we parked the car, we were giddy with cherry-blossom-frenzy. Teeny buds of pink and white flowers swayed under the bright sun. I always forget how lovely it is this time of year, when we can shed our bulky jackets, throw on a bright dress and show some skin, and breathing in fresh air doesn’t hurt the lungs, but actually feels pleasant.

Mom and I walked around High Park, took more photos (I took about 259 photos that day alone) then strolled along Bloor Street West to find a good lunch spot. We were famished and sweaty and couldn’t be more happy to sit and rest our feet, we collapsed at a table at The Kennedy Public House. Getting my priorities straight, I ordered a Kronenberg, then we waited for our warm panzanella salad and chicken club sandwich (cleverly placed under the “witchcraft” category on the menu). We people-watched and again, boasted how lucky we were for the cooperative weather.

I craved something light and fresh, and the panzanella hit the spot. There were roasted tomatoes and red bell peppers, their syrupy juices seeping through the arugula and onions, softening the croutons, plus springy buffalo cheese and briny olives. I’m drooling just thinking about it. The sandwich was a delight too; moist bits of meat with mayo oozed between focaccia. Even the ceasar salad that came as a side was equally memorable; it won major brownie points for fried artichokes and homemade parmesan tuilles. I was so full I couldn’t breathe and thankful for the walk back to the car. 

The following day it was just as sunny and warm. I still wanted something crunchy and laden with vegetables. I’ve had plenty of quinoa in sitting my pantry for a while now and always promised myself to make it and feature it on my blog, but obviously, never got around to it. Maybe it was the panzanella, or the ceasar salad, but I had the urge to make something with spring greens. I made a green bean and quinoa salad inspired by Sara Forte of Sprouted Kitchen. It comes together easily and will even make you lick your plate. I know, you don’t hear of plate-lickingly good salads often, but trust me, the key is in the dressing. I made my own mustardy version for the dressing and the combination of heat, acid, and oil helps to bring the otherwise bland ingredients alive. I whizzed together garlic, lime zest, and a dollop of Kozlick’s sweet and smokey mustard.  

The green beans are blanched, then tossed with cooked quinoa, coated with the dressing and sprinkled with toasted pecans, to give you plenty of crunch in each forkful. It took less than 20 minutes to put together, I even enjoyed it on the balcony while watching the sun go down. It’s nice to see you too Spring.

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Speculoos Ice Cream

I realized the other day I’m constantly surrounded by food. At work, I help feed seniors in nursing homes, giving recommendations to help them stay healthier, sometimes I revise their menus too. On the commute home, I usually have one hand on the wheel, the other hand dusting off the cracker bits on my lap from my afternoon snack. Even after dinner I snuggle on the couch flipping through cookbooks while watching Chopped or Top Chef. Before bedtime, I nibble on chocolate or a little fruit (depending how healthy I want to be). I just really like food.

Sometimes my mind gets obsessed with a particular food that it begins to evade my dreams. I had a craving for donuts recently and during one restful sleep, a giant fried cruller appeared, taunting me with its cinnamon-crusted sugar and juicy apple flavor. I blame Donut Showdown, the furious rush to create outrageous, over-the-top donuts with unpredictable flavor combinations are bound to seep into my bedtime consciousness. I kept planning to go to Tim Horton’s for a chocolate-glazed donut but refrained. Finally, I walked into a grocery store and a thick waft of fried dough hit me, a kiosk that made sizzling hot donuts was set up strategically at the store entrance. That did it for me. I bought a small box of plain donuts dusted with only icing sugar, splitting the loot with my friend. It was awesome. Melt-in-your mouth awesome. Donuts stay out of my dreams now. 

A dessert I’ve been brainstorming for months now involves my all time love, Speculoos. I’ve tried to remake them in cookie and cake form, and thought it was time to up the ante and use it in ice cream. If I could use adjectives to describe it, I’d use profanity, specifically a four letter word starting with F. Not only is the flavor well preserved, its texture is irresistibly silky. It's hard to find anything wrong with it.

I used a basic peanut butter ice cream recipe and substituted the peanut butter with Speculoos. The technique couldn’t be easier, you just cream the spread with sugar, slowly add cream and then more cream. Chill it till it’s cold enough and pour it into an ice cream machine. I’ve long been a fan of cookies and cream ice cream, and applied that same idea in this ice cream, adding plenty of crushed Speculoos cookies. The result isn't cloying sweet, the flavours of cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves are pronounced. I helped myself to a generous bowl after taking these photos and proceeded with a second serving, I don't regret it.

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Leek and Bacon Tart

My mom and I have a deal. Once a week, I make dinner. Usually it’s Sunday when I have the time to ponder over what I want to eat. It usually begins with what my tastebuds are craving, or sometimes I zero-in on a single ingredient and the meal gets planned around that. In this case, I had the sudden urge for leeks. I don’t usually cook with them, but I’m a sucker for their silky texture when they get caramelized.

I always have a mental idea what to make, though it’s usually not concrete till I get to the grocery store and see what options I have. This week it was pretty easy, I knew I wanted something handheld and crispy and a tart seemed like a good choice. As most of my recipe searching goes, I Google recipe ideas and keep clicking till I find something that hinges between simple and interesting. This tart seemed only a natural pairing and the best part, it calls for only a handful of ingredients and is easily customized to whatever you like. 

I cooked down the leeks with bacon, infusing the green and white ribbons with salty meat, layered it over puff pastry, sprinkled it with cheese and added more bacon so that it would crisp and curl in the oven. I’d add fresh thyme if I had any on hand too.  My oh my, was it deliiiicious.

This past weekend, Milos, a good friend of mine from Montreal was visiting and what better way to welcome someone than with a lovely dinner? I made a different version of this tart using caramelized onions, cheddar cheese and cherry tomatoes, serving it with roasted zucchini and mustard salmon. Everything disappeared quickly, a testament to how tasty it was, even though the tomatoes made the tart soggy. Next time I’d roast them first, releasing their juices before adding them to the tart. My mom preferred the leek and bacon version, but continued to tear off just the edges of the tomato tart despite my encouragement to take the whole slice.

Milos was eager to recreate the tomato-based tart with his girlfriend back home, and asked what other ingredients he could use. I haven’t tried it before, but I’d suggest spreading the pastry with pesto, sundried tomato paste, tapenade, or goat cheese, and topping it with sautéed vegetables (as long as they’re not too soggy) would be equally wonderful. If you find someone who dislikes crispy, cheesy, vegetable-y eat-with-your-hands food, let me know and I’ll gladly have their portion.

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Bubble-Top Brioches

Brioche for some reason has always intimidated me. I’ve baked bread and rolls before, but something about it has often made me push it back on my very informal Must Bake list. Perhaps it’s the waiting game: the first rise, deflating the poofy dough, then the gentle kneading followed by the second rise, more thumb-twiddling before it finally goes into the oven. And when they’re done, showing off its golden glory, I wonder why I don’t make bread more often.

What threw me off about this brioche was its scent of milky sweetness. It was unlike anything else I’ve made at home. Of all things, it reminded me of a Chinese bakery; even when I toasted them for breakfast the rest of the week, its distinct waft made me weak in the knees.

I was ecstatic when these were done. They sat on a wire rack to cool while my mom nudged me to eat one despite my best intentions to avoid burning my tongue. A few more nudges later, I gave in and we split one, eating it plain with our bare hands, the second one disappeared quickly too. I totally get it now, I get why brioche is really that good. The springy, tender grain is so soft I could use it as a pillow. The browned top is just crispy enough to get that striking contrast to the feather light buns. They even taste good the next day, lightly toasted with a smear of blackberry jam. Oh Bubble-top Brioche, you amaze me.

I had a serious debate in my head of which brioche recipe to use. The contenders were: Nick Malgieri’s recipe from his cookbook Bake! or Dorie Greenspan’s recipe from Bon Appetit. I’ve read each recipe a thousand times just to make sure I wouldn’t screw up. Finally I went with Nick’s method since it seemed the easiest and followed Dorie’s instructions for forming the brioche, hence, their cute names. Making bread isn’t difficult, though it takes a ton of patience and some technical know-how to get it right, the recipe I’ve included is epic long, but believe me when I say it is worth every bit. 

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Chocolate-Covered Caramelized Matzo Crackers

I always give away my baked goods lest I eat them all to myself, self-control is not my forte. For more than half the year, many of the goodies I’ve featured on my blog have also been shared with my boyfriend (save for one week when I forgot to pack some granola and he sarcastically bemoaned, “This is not acceptable behavior”). I’ve long understood the love that comes from cooking or baking for someone you care about, there’s nothing that makes me as elated as when my friends bring me dessert or when my mom buys me an egg tart from the Chinese bakery, so fresh it steams the plastic baggy it came in.

My boyfriend now has his own Tupperware that I put his baked treats in. When I hand over his edible gifts, he roars with excitement as if he just won the lottery, tears open the box and takes a big bite before reluctantly saving the rest for later. I think one of the top reasons I bake every week is getting to watch the way he eats followed by the giddy look on his face.

These crackers are no exception and generate the same welcome to everyone I shared it with. I’ve never eaten matzo crackers before and normally wouldn’t since they’re too bland, but covered in an irresistible combination of chocolate, toffee and nuts, you can’t go wrong. Not only is this recipe easy peasy, the result is dangerously addictive. It makes me think of peanut butter brittle minus the stone hard crunch.

I love recipes that allow you to customize it to suit your preferences or whatever you have on hand. Instead of almonds, you can sprinkle some chopped pistachios, or toasted coconut if that’s what you’re into, maybe even cocoa nibs if you’re fancy like that. I like adding flaky sea salt when I can’t decide if I’m craving for sweet or salty. No matter what you add, these crackers are transformed from bland paper-like crisps to crack-like treats. I’m warning you, these are dangerous.

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Gougère au Za'atar

These cheese puffs are very dear to me and this version is probably my best attempt at fusion. I often made a batch of these when I was in university, packaging them in a tin box and traveling them halfway across Montreal to a dinner party, where they were always popular and the first thing to disappear from the food table. They quickly became a common appearance at many potlucks I attended. Sometimes, I took a few minutes to write: Cheese Puffs on a small index card in case someone asked me what they were, I minimized the risk of embarrassing my already laughable French. 



I love making these with Gruyère cheese, its strong, nutty flavor lends well in these puffy treats. As recommended by the recipe author, Clotilde of Chocolate and Zucchini (who I've met!), I’ve used cumin to season them with consistently good results. This time however, I used a za’taar to change it up a little. A combination of sumac, salt, dried thyme, and sesame seeds, za’taar is typically used in Middle Eastern food. I've frequently seen it sprinkled on pita bread brushed with olive oil and then warmed in the oven, releasing a mesmerizing  heady and sweet flavours. Added in these gougeres, the spice makes them even more exotic.  

The preparation is easy if you have all your ingredients prepped and ready to go. Basically you simmer the butter and salt together, add the flour, mix vigorously to form the basic dough, then add the eggs one by one, and fold in the grated cheese along with the za’taar. The only challenging part of the recipe is waiting for the dough to chill, to prevent the puffs from spreading too much in the oven. The best part though, is the smell these sneaky devils give off as they turn crispy and golden, kind of like a big ball of Swiss cheese exploded, if you liken explosions to good and tasty things.



Clotilde suggests enjoying these with a glass of wine, though I’m partial to a cold glass of beer. I could eat a plateful of these with a citrusy light ale, something along the lines of a Rickard’s White. I’d also prefer to eat these with my legs propped up on a picnic bench and a mild spring breeze whipping through my hair, though I don’t really see that happening at the moment, since it still feels like winter out there. But I suppose a girl can dream, and soon enough, I will be eating a plateful of these gougères with a cold pint of beer in hopefully a few weeks time (toes and fingers crossed).

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