Adios, October! But first, some green chili

Was October a strange month for y'all? It sure was for me. Every time I turned around, it seemed something had gone awry. Whether it was the computer meltdown we had in Phoenix, my erasing almost 200 photos when I accidentally formatted the wrong memory card, gifts I had ordered being sent to the wrong people, important emails ending up in the junk-mail folder or just the endless games of phone tag I played with my friends, almost nothing I did this month was clear and simple.

Now some people chalked up these bizarre twists and turns in communication to Mercury being retrograde. And my being a Gemini, I was doubly doomed as this planet is my ruler. But I don’t believe in that stuff. Not really, anyway. But since Mercury is supposed to un-retrograde soon (I’m not quite sure what a planet going retrograde really means), let’s hope that the rest of the year proceeds without too many more hiccups.

As I’ve been fiddling with one mishap after another, I’d forgotten that October was National Chili Month, an occasion I’m always eager to celebrate. And now that we have proper jacket-and-scarf weather happening in New York City, spending a few hours at the stove is a welcome prospect. Heck, downright necessary as it can get quite nippy inside my apartment.

Last year I discussed the merits of Texas Red. That will always be my benchmark chili—the one to which all others will be compared. But a few years ago I got it into my head to start making green chili as well. I thought it would be festive, especially around Christmas, to have big bubbling pots of red and green chili side by side. I didn’t hail from a green chili tradition, however, so I turned to a friend from New Mexico on how to make it since that state is known for its green chili.

We were at the movies and I didn’t have a pen or paper handy, so I asked him what he put in his chili just hoping I’d remember. He told me a list of ingredients and his method, which after watching the film I promptly forgot. No matter, I didn’t use a recipe for my red so I reckoned I didn’t need one for my green.
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Tex-Mex in the Times (and more)

I apologize for the silence. I've been a bit stressed and sad as my 17-year-old cat Lily has a lemon-sized tumor on her side, and today I find out the prognosis. For a cat her age, I've been warned it's not good. I have some green pork chili I'm eager to share with you but until my mind is more settled, here are some links I've been savoring from the recent papers:

• The New York Times has a celebration of Tex-Mex written by a non-Texan, a job I would have gladly offered my services. That said, my favorite restaurant from childhood, Herrera's in Dallas, receives major kudos and the author quotes Robb Walsh, so I'll cut the Times some slack. Have you ever been to Herrera's? I have fond memories of lining up with my parents outside this Maple Avenue hole-in-the-wall back in the '70s, where after passing through the kitchen you'd find yourself at a tiny table piled high with tamales, Crazy nachos and enchiladas smothered in brown chili gravy and orange cheese. This place is a classic, and Herrera's definitely helped define my Tex-Mex palate.

• Also in the Times is a look at legendary editor Judith Jones. If you're not familiar with her, she shepherded into print classic books by authors such as Julia Child, Claudia Rosen, Edna Lewis and Marcella Hazan. She has a new memoir out this week, and if you're in New York, she'll be doing a reading and a wine tasting at Bottlerocket tonight at 6:00.

• October has been deemed official chili month, and while I've been a bit of a laggard about posting about the state dish of Texas this year (though I wrote a series of posts about Texas Red last October), you can read about the saga of Texas chili and Terlingua in today's Dallas Morning News.

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Comfort me with banana pudding

For me, last week was probably one of the worst weeks ever. Now, I’m very thankful to have my job, but when I was in Phoenix last week producing a daily newspaper for a conference, I felt like everything was conspiring against me as production bounced from one miserable headache to another.

I won’t bore you with details, but let’s just say that everything that could go wrong did. And because I was spending countless hours on the phone with New York tech support, I hardly ever stepped out of my hotel room to soak in the cacti, mountains, palm trees and piercing Arizona sun. I know, I shouldn’t complain—at least I have a job that sent me to Arizona, but still—it was frustrating fiddling with technical difficulties when God’s natural beauty beckoned to me right outside.

That said, there were some highlights to the trip. First, I finally got to experience the marvelousness that is Phoenix Ranch Market. If you ever have the opportunity to go to Phoenix, this is a must stop. Imagine a gigantic grocery store, filled with all sorts of Mexican ingredients. Everything from quesillo to cow heads. Not to mention aisle upon aisle filled with chiles, chocolates, chorizo and a host of kitchen tools such as tortilla presses, molinillos and molcajetes. But even more exciting, there’s a huge food court within the store, with a torta stand, a taco stand, people frying up gorditas, huraches, quesadillas and hot plates filled with simmering meats and lardy-refried beans. And right beside this bountiful buffet is a stream of freshly made tortillas flowing along a conveyer belt—even though it was behind glass, they were so close I was tempted to pluck one and eat it warm. But I restrained myself and instead ordered a carnitas taco, spiced with a bright and fiery tomatillo sauce that made me smile.

Another bright spot in the trip was getting to see Al Gore speak at the conference on Saturday, the day after he was named the winner of the Noble Peace Prize. Now this was a conference for marketers, and Gore was there in the guise of salesman not statesman, so sadly he uttered nary a word about his recent honor. (Though he wasn’t above poking fun at his participation in a "recovering-politician"10-step program. He conceded that he’s on step number nine.) Instead he touted the benefits of Current TV, his cable network comprised of much viewer-created content, including some of the ads. The speech felt a bit odd in light of recent events, and he looked tired, but nevertheless it was a thrill getting to see and listen to him in a small venue.
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Purple sage and colorful cauliflower

I’ve been leery of cauliflower for most of my life. Despite my early penchant for devouring white foods, there was just something about cauliflower that seemed a bit wrong. To me, it looked like albino broccoli and no matter how much cheese you added to a steaming plate of it (because growing up that was the only way it was served—smothered in cheddar cheese), it felt like an imposter, a genetic mistake that no amount of dairy could improve.

Then a few years ago, I dated a guy who was on a low-carb diet. And if you’ve ever spent time preparing low-carb menus you know that mashed cauliflower is a highly recommend substitute for the off-limit potatoes. I’d puree them with roasted garlic, fresh rosemary and a bit of butter, and if I closed my eyes I could pretend that they were almost as good as the real deal. But I always felt this seemed unfair to the cauliflower—making it work as something it wasn’t. Surely there had to be a way to eat this vegetable where its essential cauliflower-ness was retained and yet would still be satisfying.

Enter pan-roasted cauliflower. After tossing a couple of chopped heads with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper, and cooking it at a high heat in the oven for about half an hour, the cauliflower came out tender but with a bit of a snap, nicely caramelized in spots which added a sweet depth to the flavor. I was hooked. But I was still a bit put off by the color.

So imagine my surprise last Wednesday when I went to the farmers’ market and they had purple and orange cauliflower on display along with the usual white heads. I was struck by their beauty, but was even more impressed by the name for the orange: Cheddar cauliflower. A vegetable named after cheese? Now that’s something I can support! The farmer said they wouldn’t be in season very long, probably for just a few more weeks, so I grabbed one of each, brought them home, threw them in the fridge and then forgot about them.

Such is my life that from Wednesday onward, I’m working late hours at the office and too tired to come home and cook. But Sunday after having a marathon baking session (I was trying to find a perfect cookie recipe for my homemade banana pudding) I was in sugar shock. I needed something fresh, flavorful and healthy, yet a dish that would be a cinch to prepare as well. I peeked into my fridge and there in the back of the crisper drawer sat my two colorful cauliflower heads, forlorn and forgotten and quickly going bad. I then knew what I would have for dinner.
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King Ranch Chicken Casserole

Casseroles are an ancient dish, found all over the world. Yet for some reason, whenever I hear the word, I don’t think of France (the origin of the name), I think of church suppers, potlucks and home.

We Texans, like most Americans, love our casseroles. Though what usually sets a Texan casserole apart from its neighbors is the spices used. Not shy with the peppers, most Texan casseroles have a bit of a kick. And one of the most popular casseroles we make is King Ranch Chicken Casserole, a soft, slightly spicy, cheesy mixture of tomatoes, corn tortillas, chicken, cream and peppers. It goes down easy and is the ultimate comfort food.

Casseroles today have a sort of retro appeal, yet I find they’re a terrific dish to prepare in the cooler months. Not only can you make them ahead of time, they can also feed many, freeze well and taste terrific as leftovers.

The rise of the casserole’s popularity occurred in the mid-part of the last century, an advent that coincided with the introduction in 1934 of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup—that ubiquitous ingredient found in almost every casserole recipe. It was the rare pantry that didn’t have a few cans of these on the shelf when I was young. And I know people that still swear by it as a secret ingredient, such as my Cajun friend who throws it into his etouffee in place of using a roux.

Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup used to get me in trouble as a kid. Why? Because I was the rare person (maybe the only person) who actually enjoyed eating it as it was intended—as a soup. I liked to alternate eating cans of it with Graham crackers topped with melted chocolate chips as my after-school snack. So when my mom needed a can for a casserole, sometimes she’d find her supply depleted because I’d had the urge to whip up a pot of liquid, mushroomy joy. It was not a pretty scene.
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