No, that claw is not a scary Halloween trick. Look closer; it's actually a very tasty treat.
Because the price of lobster is so low right now -- almost half of what it was more than a year ago -- the bloggers over at REC(cession)IPES were able to add a little luxury to this simple, creamy risotto, made with arborio rice, olive oil, butter, onions, shallots and white wine. Plus, the lobster adds a much-needed burst of color to what can often be a very monochromatic dish.
Come to think of it, should you want to try this at home, there may actually be a little trick to achieving these picturesque results. As REC(cession)IPES points out, it's only live lobster that's so cheap right now. So unless you can bring yourself to butcher your own crustacean (think Julie Powell in "Julie & Julia"), you may have to settle for just feasting only your eyes on this lovely lobster risotto.
The hottest dispute at this weekend's Boudin Cookoff in Lafayette, La. may not be who makes the best boudin, but whether the signature Cajun sausage should be eaten with its casing.
"For some people, the way they eat boudin is to bite off the first bite and squeeze out the filling the rest of the way," explains event organizer Bob Carriker, who created the web site The Boudin Link to chronicle his ardor for the spicy, rice-y, pork-based snack. "And some people like to eat the casing as they go."
Carriker polled attendees at last year's cookoff, the first edition of the festival, and discovered the crowd was almost evenly split: Discarding the casing was favored by 117 voters, while 86 boudin fans claimed they liked their casing on.
"This is a raging debate in South Louisiana," Carriker says. "Health care, schmealth care."
As Carriker's lingo suggests, he's not a Louisiana native. He moved there from Washington for a job, and immediately set about acquainting himself with the state's cuisine.
Chicken bog is a seasoned chicken, rice and sausage dish that's not half as soupy as its name suggests. What chicken bog isn't -- at least according to the organizers behind the 30th annual Loris Bog-Off being held this weekend in Horry County, S.C. -- is pilau.
Samantha Norris, executive assistant to the Chamber of Commerce's board of directors, maintains that bog is distinct from the beloved African-tinged casserole served one county over, also known as pilau, perloo, pilaf and perlau.
"Some people tell me bog is wetter, some people tell me there's more chicken in bog," Norris says.
Food historians don't necessarily agree: In her book "The Carolina Rice Kitchen: The African Connection," Karen Hess posits that bog is really just pilau made on a massive scale. "It is difficult to make very large amounts of a proper pilau, so it ends up being 'boggy,'" she writes.
Risotto, the preeminent comfort dish of the Milanese, gets rich red-wine depth.
Traditionally a very simple Italian dish, when risotto is coupled with top-notch red wine and beef broth, it becomes something quite dignified. Parmesan adds a delightfully salty tang to the finished product.
Despite its reputation as a "restaurant dish," it's not difficult to make a good risotto. You do have to give it constant attention -- risotto is an act of love. When cooking for one, it's calming, even therapeutic after a long day of work, to stand over the stove and stir. And the idea of enjoying a glass of the leftover wine while tending to the risotto on a cool autumn night is a way to schedule some "me time" into a busy week.
Few of us want to make a complicated lasagna for solo dining -- by day six, you'll never want to see lasagna again! In this feature, AOL Food intern Sarah LeTrent taste-tests simple recipes suitable for those requiring a "table for one."
"What's for dinner?" Those of us flying solo find ourselves at the mercy of this painstakingly simple question every evening. The problem is finding the time, money and energy to cook something that will truly satisfy those hunger pangs.
Bibimbap is a popular Korean dish suitable for solo dining on rainy summer evenings. Its translation is literally "mixed rice." Tossed together just before serving, the dish might include carrots, mushrooms, mung bean sprouts, chili paste, sesame seeds or oil -- really anything your heart desires. This diner is fond of adding a fried egg -- the cherry on top of the sundae, as it were.
Risotto tastes more savory with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. Rice and cheese can be a rich and lusciously creamy combination. For this reason, Supplì al Telefono, fried rice balls stuffed with mozzarella, is one of my favorite Roman dishes. Its rich taste and mouthwatering texture are an intense culinary delight.
Supplì al Telefono is often made with both Parmigiano and mozzarella. I first tried it at a restaurant in Piazza del Popolo, in Rome. I was pleasantly overwhelmed with cheese and rice. I would hardly compare these balls of cheese to American mozzarella sticks. The addition of rissoto and oregano creates a totally unique aromatic milky texture. In his book Molto Italiano, Mario Batali states "These suppli' have a cult that is all their own; you will find us strutting down the streets of the Eternal City, stretching strings of mozzarella from our hands to our gluttonous mouths."
While you can find this Roman gastronomic treat at several Italian restaurants, it's easy enough to make on your own. And, you can make several different variations. Gourmet has a recipe that uses mushroom risotto. Mario Batali's recipe calls for porcini mushrooms, prosciutto, and San Marzano tomatoes. Supplì al Telefono are the perfect appetizer when entertaining. Next time, you're thinking of eating a melted cheese dish, take out your leftover risotto and concoct these stuffed rice balls.
Inspired by fellow Slashfoodie Monika Bartyzel's recent post on using ingredients we already have, I decided to cook up a few of the many grains I've hoarded over the past few months...okay, more than just a few months. There's no other kind of food I buy more compulsively. Stone-ground grits, hard red wheat flour, orzo, coarse polenta, pasta in a variety of shapes, fregola sarda - shall I go on?
The starch closest to my heart, though, may be jasmine brown rice. I first learned of this lovely product during a charmed encounter at Bangkok Center Grocery, a jewel box of Thai ingredients in Manhattan's Chinatown. Another customer, a Thai lady, had taken an interest in me because she saw that I was buying ingredients to make my own curry paste and, after I had paid, she, along with her equally winsome Chinese friend, urged me to buy a shrinkwrapped bag of jasmine brown rice imported from Thailand. The price of the rice alone did not meet the credit card minimum, and I had no cash, but the store owner saw my distress at turning down the ladies' recommendation, and he let me take the rice on credit.
"Pay next time," he said. In Manhattan. And I a first-time customer. I thought that only happened to valued clients in tiny towns.
I gave away most of my foodstuffs when I moved from Atlanta to New York, but I did transport a half-empty bag of jasmine brown rice (pictured). Like regular jasmine rice, it cooks up to be fragrant and fluffy, nutty and chewy - perhaps even nuttier and chewier due to its being brown. The method for and a picture of my pilaf - not very Thai at all, mind you - follows the jump.
I typically use recipes in one of two ways. In the best case scenario, I consult a recipe before I shop so that even if I choose to tweak things a bit, I'm at least starting with all the appropriate raw materials. But then there are those evenings when it's chilly outside or I'm just feeling too lazy to shop, and I need a recipe that makes use of whatever's in the fridge, freezer, and pantry.
Last night was the second scenario. I had a pack of chicken thighs thawing but no plan for them. At first I printed out a recipe for chicken divan, knowing full well that I would have to substitute 2-percent milk for the cream and whole milk. Then I realized that I'd accidentally bought bone-in thighs. The thought of carving up chicken thighs to make a casserole sounded like a major pain. I remembered a recent charmed encounter with lamb biryani takeout, so I looked up some recipes for a chicken version online.
Most had a laundry list of ingredients, but then I found a very simple preparation on Mark Bittman's blog, Bitten. I still didn't have everything on the list: no fresh ginger, no saffron, no basmati. His recipe calls for a whole cut-up chicken; I figured the thighs would substitute nicely.
I added some curry powder in place of the missing spices, and threw in a pinch of fragrant dried spearmint leaves. I think whole cardamom pods are probably pretty integral to biryani (though I think the ten he calls for is a few too many), but then again, saffron and basmati probably are, too. The point is that you can work with the spices, and the kind of rice, and the cuts of chicken you have, and this ambrosial casserole will warm you right up.
As much as I adore my job, I tend to get the Sunday evening blues and have found as of late that labor-intensive cooking projects prove to be wonderfully soothing. It might be a bread knead, a painstakingly crimped lard crust pie, or, as it's manifested for the second week in a row, a unexpectedly soul-stirring risotto. Emphasis is on the "stirring" part, I assure you, as two times now, I've darned near sprained a forearm muscle with the non-stop drag of the wooden spoon through the ever-thickening starch. It's worth it, though -- the constant, meditative motion -- when it suddenly, palpably, audibly even, transforms the individual rice grains into a sumptuous, silken mass. It's the sort of culinary alchemy that transforms me from a solitary kitchen wretch into someone who suddenly wants to feed everyone she's ever met.
Last week's Acorn Squash Risotto from Mario Batali's Molto Italiano cookbook was a rousing success with my husband, as evidenced by this habitual leftover-snubber's willingness to dig back in on subsequent weeknights. This week's pulled pork variation, made on a whim, was a hearty treat tonight, and I've got a sneaking suspicion the flavors will meld well over the next few days.
Try for yourself. My Pulled Pork Risotto recipe is after the jump, and if you've got any soothing cooking rituals you'd like to share, I'd be more than grateful to hear about 'em.
Got the late January blues? In my opinion, nothing chases away the shadows like a big, hot, tropical-flavored meal. That's why I'm making nasi lemak this Saturday night, as part of a Malaysian-themed dinner party (pineapple tarts will also be on the menu).
One of the staple dishes of Malaysian cuisine, nasi lemak is rice steamed with coconut milk and served (usually) with hard-boiled eggs, tiny anchovies, sambal (chili paste), sliced cucumbers and (occasionally) fried chicken. It's often served for breakfast at Malaysian street stalls, or sold cold and wrapped up in banana leaves as a quick on-the-go lunch. Nasi lemak is eaten with your fingers, as is traditional in Malaysia - most restaurants have a tea pot full of cold water and a bucket for pre- and post-meal washing.
The rice is soft and moist and rich with coconut milk, the sambal pungeant with chili and prawn paste. Cucumbers add coolness, peanuts and tiny anchovies (called ikan bilis) add crunch. Check out this recipe, at Rasa Malaysia.
For your lunchtime pleasure, I'm presenting a series of my favorite bento boxes. Bento are Japanese home-prepared meals served in special boxes, usually eaten for lunch at work or school. These days, bento enthusiasts from all over the world share their creations on Flickr.
Another great example of the Japanese obsession with kawaii (cuteness), this dangerously adorable Pokemon-themed bento from Kotaku features two onigiri decorated with Pikachu-stamped nori and a fish cake with an embedded Pikachu image.
For your lunchtime pleasure, I'm presenting a series of my favorite bento boxes. Bento are Japanese home-prepared meals served in special boxes, usually eaten for lunch at work or school. These days, bento enthusiasts from all over the world share their creations on Flickr.
Today's bento makes the most of food coloring, with yellow, blue, pink and purple letter mini-onigiri stuffed with tuna and shaped like letter blocks. Letter details are cheese. The teddy is stuffed with tuna, wasabi and mayo, with nori and cheese details. The box is filled out with broccoli and shumai dumplings.
For your lunchtime pleasure, I'm presenting a series of my favorite bento boxes. Bento are Japanese home-prepared meals served in special boxes, usually eaten for lunch at work or school. These days, bento enthusiasts from all over the world share their creations on Flickr.
Here's another great kiddie bento, from Bento Corner. The little girl is made of tomatoes, kamaboko (fish cake), and quail egg with nori details. The rabbit is kamaboko with nori details. Both lay on a bed of rice. On the side is lotus root, shiitake mushrooms, carrots, yam cake and burdock root.
For your lunchtime pleasure, I'm presenting a series of my favorite bento boxes. Bento are Japanese home-prepared meals served in special boxes, usually eaten for lunch at work or school. These days, bento enthusiasts from all over the world share their creations on Flickr.
This bento, from I Love Egg, is called "fun with the nori cutter." It features beet flowers, a rice star, celery, frozen cherries, fried pork, mashed parsnip dyed pink with beet juice in a geometric mold, all adorned with little nori curlicues cut with a craft store paper cutter.
For your lunchtime pleasure, I'm presenting a series of my favorite bento boxes. Bento are Japanese home-prepared meals served in special boxes, usually eaten for lunch at work or school. These days, bento enthusiasts from all over the world share their creations on Flickr.
This very cool ghost bento comes from the nifty Zakka Life blog. The two happy onigiri ghosts sit atop a (pork or beef slice?) cliff as nori bats flap their wings across a lemon moon. The tiny bottle of skull-and-bones "soy poison" is my favorite touch.
Inspired by fellow Slashfoodie 
I typically use recipes in one of two ways. In the best case scenario, I consult a recipe before I shop so that even if I choose to tweak things a bit, I'm at least starting with all the appropriate raw materials. But then there are those evenings when it's chilly outside or I'm just feeling too lazy to shop, and I need a recipe that makes use of whatever's in the fridge, freezer, and pantry. 
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