10.0 The Phoenix and the Fowl

Starring Erin, Mike, Adam, Josh & Jim
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: Your Favorite Songs about Birds

“I gave my love a chicken, it had no bone…”

Quiet now. Easy. Mustn’t make any sudden movements. They frighten easily, these little birds. Yes, YES! There it is! Right on the plate, awaiting its marinade. Yep, chicken again. I’ve been toying with changing the name of this column to “In the Sellwood Chicken.” Still, it’s chicken – you can do a lot with it. And it’s cheap. After all, I write the column pro-bono. Unlike this month’s recipe, which is “no-bono.” Boneless, that is. But more about the recipe later. Let me build up a few paragraphs with my blather.


Tonight’s Sellwood Kitchen is at SK2, Adam & Josh’s house. Tonight’s meal, in keeping with the advantages of home turf, is also Adam’s, or rather, an old family recipe. With both he and Erin at the stove, Josh, my brother Jim (newest resident of Sellwood and Knight of the Short Table), and I drool in the living room.

Meanwhile, Jack the dog is ALL OVER EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. He’s a lanky fellow. Like one of those Land Striders from “Dark Crystal.” You know what I mean? I feel like a Garthim when I walk through the door. You get that one? I wish there were a few LIVE chickens in here to keep him busy!

I try to keep these articles fairly entertaining. Our Friend Dinners are always fun for us, but I suppose reading about them can be a little dry: We drink wine, laugh, eat dinner, laugh, watch TV, laugh, and everyone goes home. Yet we are not so different from the chicken, are we? Seemingly predictable, its bland even whiteness gives no more than a content nod to our taste buds. Until, of course, the culinary skills of Our Chefs transform this simple bird into a glorious phoenix of tang! I am thus inspired to transform these words on birds from plain copy into a monozygote of literature.


You ever read Harold Pinter? (“No, have you?”) Yes, actually, I have. I started a couple of days ago by devouring a few easy pieces. So I’m an expert now. British playwright, Pinter is, known for complex dialogue, broken by dramatic pauses and silence. I’d like to present a small portion of this piece in the style of Pinter:

VOICE #1

I’m always welcome to flip through Adam & Josh’s LPs but the radio seems to provide a suitable condition. I can tell by the crackle and jazz it’s KMHD (89.1 on your FM dial!). The jazz station out of Mt. Hood Community College is the most consistently safe signal on air, but I mean safe in the sense of free from morning talk-show DJs.
(Pause)

VOICE #2

Why don’t we have any snacks?

VOICE #1

They just play jazz. When someone stops me to ask if I listened to “Mark & Brian” or “Frick & Frack”, I shout a gregarious “Yes!” and pat them on the shoulder as I continue on. Egad! Give me some music! Maybe little news, maybe little traffic and I’m fine. Tonight, however, being Valentine’s Day, the speakers poured sugar-free honey into our laps – a lot of “smooth jazz”, the neutral vanilla of popular music.
(Pause)

VOICE #2
I’m not feeling feelings anymore.

VOICE #1

So the music fades into the background, and soon into memory. The true music of the night is the laughter – a box set’s worth.
(Pause)

VOICE #3

Liverwurst is the poor man’s pate.

And…Scene! Well done. Let’s eat! This is the first time I’ve ever had Chicken Cacciatore. It’s one of those recipes you always hear about but are never served. Like succotash or a$1000 burger.

Adam plates up the first dish. The “display copy” I call it. The one we photograph for the article. Jimmy eats the display copy. It’s almost a double serving. We devour it! The noodles seem plush to Adam. “Teddy bear noodles,” says Erin. “Build-a-Bear noodles,” adds Josh. Modified for our resident gluten-intolerant friend, the meal is a triumph, pleasing to the tongue, easy on the belly. I’m happy to report that olive oil was used in place of the suggested ingredient, which was “hot fat.”

Look, there on the horizon! The reliable chicken transformed, rising in a fireball of hot fat to the heavens! The phoenix reborn! Arcing in a maelstrom of Chinese fireworks towards the brightest stars of Ursa Major, a celestial ladle full of the wine of life!


HOW TO CACCIATORE A CHICKEN

6 servings Boneless Chicken Breasts and/or thighs
1 Cup of Cooking Sherry
2 Cloves Garlic Chopped
Rice Flour
Salt & pepper
Olive Oil
2 Cups Onion finely chopped
1 ½ Cup of Green Pepper finely chopped
1 Tsp Salt
1 Tsp Parsley chopped
1 ½ Tsp Curry Powder
2/3 Tsp White Pepper
1 ½ Tsp Thyme
Approx 30 Oz Canned Tomatoes
6 Oz Can Tomato Paste

Marinate chicken in mixture of sherry and 1 clove chopped garlic for 2 hours in refrigerator. Remove chicken from sherry. Save marinade. Season with salt & pepper and roll in flour. Fry in oil until golden brown. Re-serve in warm oven. Combine onions, peppers and remaining garlic. Sauté in oil from chicken until tender, stirring constantly. Stir in 1 tsp salt, pepper, curry powder and thyme. Add tomatoes, paste and parsley. Stir in sherry marinade. Heat. Pour sauce over chicken, cover and bake at 350 degrees for approximately 50 minutes. Serve over rice or spaghetti (we went for brown rice spaghetti! It’s a GLUTEN-FREE meal).

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: sellwoodkitchen@gmail.com

9.0 The Lorange

Starring Erin, Mike, Adam & Josh
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: “Zoom” by Robert Pollard

“Brought you your snack…”

The first “In the Sellwood Kitchen” of the year! Sure there was the January issue, but I think I wrote that in November… So, 2008, you hungry?

Well, it was a cold January night when our guests arrived. Their wool gloves and caps further confirmed an evening plunging towards absolute zero. We shut the door quickly to prevent the heat’s exit, where it no doubt would have burst into steam, solidified, and fallen like a frozen chicken to the garden below.

Adam and Josh brought three bottles of wine. Wait, was it three bottles? White, red and red. That’s a lot of wine! They’re good friends and also fed our cats while we were away. (As I write, one of those cats is staring at my glass of milk with an intensity matched only by my own staring at the meal Erin was about to prepare.) What an awkward sentence! Let’s wash the taste of poor syntax out of our mouths with this month’s repast!

I began with French bread, dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and slices of cheddar and gruyere, whose flavor is distinctive yet not overpowering, with a glass of organic Syrah. I purchased the Syrah both for its organic origin and for its label which depicted a crude rendering of Don Quixote, because my favorite musical is “Man of La Mancha.” The CD resissue sits in my collection sandwiched between the “Lenny” and “The Royal Tenenbaums” soundtracks.

Whilst Josh and I hovered over the appetizers in the foyer, Adam assisted Our Chef Erin in the kitchen. Earlier she had prepared the marvelous mixture designed for stuffing into the chicken breasts. I love music and it’s all I think about (except for Erin and ribald cartoons). I relate everything to it. I usually spout a lyric to complement any random comment one might issue. So when I considered the four ingredients in the ambrosial fill, legendary quartets sprung to mind: the Beatles, the Replacements, the Martyrs, We Five, the Kingston Trio…

Erin chopped and combined fresh basil, sundried tomatoes, feta cheese and garlic. The latter was prepared with a gadget called a “garlic zoom”. Maybe that’s a brand name and should be capitalized. Regardless, one inserts the cloves into the “moon roof” of the two-wheeled, internally-bladed device and ZOOM! Instant chopped garlic! Fun to roll, but a bugger to clean.

In a small white bowl, the ingredients become one. But, says Erin, “This is not schmear stuffing; this is not a spread.” Suddenly she speaks Yiddish! What she means is the filling is better scooped into the folded breasts. Next, said chicken is pounded flat. Simultaneously, Josh and I pound back another glass of wine. (But don’t confuse our “friends’ dinners” with frat boy keggers; I exaggerate the drinking for literary pop.)

So after the chicken is stuffed and slid in the oven, a spinach salad is prepared. A lemon is requested, so I produced the one I’d purchased earlier at New Seasons. Erin said get a “biggish” lemon. So that’s what I got, though something nagged me about its coloring. In the light of the kitchen, Adam asked, “Is that an orange?” for indeed, it was much more orange in color than I had suspected. But it was lemon-shaped, with nippled rinds on both ends. Yet when they cut in open, it still looked like an orange. However, the taste was unmistakably lemony. With a hint of orange.

“It’s a ‘lorange’” declared Adam. We all laughed; I found the term “Seussical”: “I am the Lorange. I speak for the cross-pollinated.”

As the oven became a bathysphere of succulence, we continued nibbling at cheese and bread, chatting, and quoting Saturday Night Live bits. You know, the usual. Soon enough, dinner was ready. Plated with painstaking finesse by Adam (“Sorry the meat’s cold,” joked Erin, “it took too long to make it look pretty!”), the meal begged our indulgence. We sat around the living room coffee table (floor seating for four comfortably), and sliced into the stuffed chicken, saliva pouring from our chops in time with the flood of exaltations! “Holy cats, that’s good!” A cross-section revealed what can only be described as “the marrow of God”. Served with Erin’s special spicy sweet potato oven fries and a tangy spinach salad ("Anyone who doesn't like spinach is my emeny." – Popeye), we dined contentedly, satisfied from the first bite.

The wine and a perpetually nagging nostalgia led Erin and Josh to an inevitable discussion of Disneyland, and the desire to return. (I quickly surmised this would be the conversation of the night.) We’d been there for our honeymoon and Erin’s been numerous other times, as has Josh. But Adam and I are freshlings to the Kingdom of Magic. Out came the guide books, the brochures, the 10-minute slideshow Erin had put together. Stuffing our maws with stuffed chicken, she suggested we all go to there, perhaps with Josh and Adam on their honeymoon someday. We decided we’d travel well together. Quite a mouse-ear wearing quartet!

It’s a long drive – I’d better make a cooler of “lorangade!”

FAB FOUR STUFFED CHICKEN

4 Chicken breasts
1/2 cup Feta cheese
2/3 cup Sundried tomatoes
2/3 cup Fresh basil
3 Cloves Garlic
1 tsp. dried basil
Olive oil
1/2 cup cheap white wine
1 tbsp lemon juice
Zest of lemon (or lorange!)

Mix well sundried tomatoes, feta cheese crumbles, chopped garlic and fresh basil in small bowl. Season to taste with salt & pepper. Pound out four chicken breasts to 1/4 inch. Spoon equal amounts of stuffing onto center of each breast. Fold over and secure with toothpick. Place stuffed breasts in oiled baking dish. Season chicken with salt & pepper, dried basil, zest of lemon, lemon juice and a 1/2 cup of cheap white wine (if you can pry it away from your guest). Bake at 400 degrees. Serve with rice pilaf. (Again, we went for the sweet potato oven fries, but that’s just because we’re hooked on them…)

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: sellwoodkitchen@gmail.com

8.0 The Sellwood Kitchen Anti-Massacree Friendsgiving

Starring Erin, Mike, Jessica, Trent and Eleven Other Good Friends & Family
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: “We had the record player going all day…”

“Take this brother, may it serve you well…”

I remember how it began, but only because I wrote it all down. It was the day after Thanksgiving. What we call “Friendsgiving.” At least – since we developed this tradition last year. On Friendsgiving, we invite a bunch of friends over to our place, for a sequel of sorts to Thanksgiving. Full turkey dinner – stuffing, potatoes, cranberry, the works! I gained 45 pounds, though most of it was gravy weight.

Friendsgiving’s historical roots lay in the celluloid landscape of “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” You know, when Peppermint Patty phones Charlie Brown (she calls him Chuck) and invites herself over for Thanksgiving dinner. Then she invites Marcy. And then she invites Franklin. And pretty soon Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty, Marcy, Franklin, Linus, Sally, and that dog are sitting around a ping-pong table, eating popcorn and toast. (I only realized this similarity ex post facto.) So that’s what we do. Except we do the inviting. And instead of popcorn, there’s a Crockpot full of Li’l Smokies…

Once again, Erin and Trent did the cooking. Unlike last year, this Friendsgiving benefited from weeks of meticulous preparation. Lists were compiled. Invitations were mailed. Fridges were stocked.

At 10 am, I dropped the needle on Paul Mauriat’s “Love is Blue” (between 1959-1964, Mauriat recorded under pseudonyms Nico Papadopoulus and Willy Twist). His easy pop instrumentals beg the listener to sip a decaf and O’Mara’s Irish Cream. Your wish, Monsieur Mauriat, is our command!

Soon, delicate yet bold aromas drifted into the living room where I sat reading a Greil Marcus meditation on “Like a Rolling Stone.” Mmm…Trent’s Pumpkin Curry Soup roils under the lid. Lil Smokies (overheard from the couch, “The Velveeta of Meats”) are swallowed by a vortex of swampy barbecue sauce. Oops, I just drooled on “Works Cited”.

So far, it’s just the four of us; Erin & Trent in the kitchen, Jessica and I not in the kitchen. Eleven more guests will squeeze into our apartment before the day ends (which would be 12 hours later…).

Jess, even more pregnant than in our last article, was craving root beer (I can’t stand the stuff – it falls somewhere between soda and beer without the benefits of either). She also needed her book from home. Anyway, while there, Trent called her to bring back the smoked salmon. This led to what will be remembered as Jessica’s Polar Excursion for Smoked Salmon. I’m not sure why we needed the smoked salmon – there was already enough food to overextend King Kong’s belly; I guess we were playing it safe in case he brought his son.

Anyway, in a scenario one would assume had already been played out in an outrageous Japanese game show, Jess spent the next 30 minutes shoulder-deep in every fridge and freezer in their home, locating said fish only moments before the black tips of frostbite stained her fingers. Returning to the Sellwood Kitchen, Jess plunged her numb paws in the roaster, displacing some gravy onto the festive plastic tablecloth. I leapt from the couch to sop up the spill with an Eggo (it was still early and we were out of English muffins).

Meanwhile, the potatoes were whipped (overheard from the couch, “I’m planning on eating that whole vat of potatoes myself”), and the bird was prepared. Jessica’s Corn-Flake Potato Casserole rested, ready for the oven. Dinner was scheduled for 3 pm – and the chefs had everything prepared! So they got cocky. On a whim, they made caramel apples! And with the extra melted caramel, they make whiskey caramel candies. With Bushmills whiskey – la de da! Wait! That’s MY Bushmills!

So we relaxed and waited for the flood of guests. The music played: Roberta Flack, Ray Charles, Bob Dylan’s “Empire Burlesque”. I got up and tasted the gravy. The gravy is great! Not only the taste, but the texture – bursting like a yolk in my mouth! I wish I still had a Krazy Straw!

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Everyone! With MORE food! Thank heavens! Because I hoped to top out at 250 lbs before the weekend! In through the door burst Nicole & Ella, Adam & Josh, Alyssa & Michael, and Kella & Brian, all with dishes in hands! We packed into the living room.

Then my brothers and sister-in-law arrived. And they all packed into the listening room (we O’Shaughnessys like to separate ourselves from the pack – might be one of the reasons we escaped from New York). Then the bacchanal began!

The rest is a blur. A cacophony of chewing. (A few decibels under the ravenous din of chomping maws, one could hear the avant-garde clatter of the Beatles “Revolution #9,” my personal maneuver of auditory guerrilla warfare, a strike against the best-of collections of Earth, Wind & Fire and the Doobies.)

I ate for twelve hours straight that day.

And that was “The Sellwood Kitchen Anti-Massacree Friendsgiving!” Keeping the spirit of friendship and gluttony alive until Thanksgiving rolls around again!


FRIENDSGIVING

Two Cooks
Their Spouses
Eleven Friends
Music
Appetizers
Beverages
Main Course
Desserts
Games
Lots of laughs

Fill one small apartment with ingredients. Mix. Mingle. Mangia! Repeat next year.

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: sellwoodkitchen@gmail.com