Stuffed Chicken Breasts with Red Pepper Sauce

by Sheila Connolly

Happy (almost) Saint Patrick’s Day! In honor of the event, I’m presenting an Irish dish based on one from Margaret Johnson’s The New Irish Table, which highlights the best of contemporary Irish cooking (and believe me, it’s good). As of this moment I have ten stickies inserted in that book, marking recipes I want to try. 

I love the contrast of flavors in this one—a little sweet, a little tart—and the vivid color. 

 

 

You make the sauce first: 

2 red bell peppers (sweet peppers), seeded and halved

½ cup dry white wine

2 Tblsp white vinegar

1 tsp sugar

1 cup heavy cream

Dash of salt (to taste) 

Preheat your broiler.  Put the peppers in a baking pan skin-side up. Set the pan about 6” below the flame and cook until the peppers are soft and the skin is loose (about ten minutes). Remove the pan from the oven and put the peppers into a closed paper bag until cool.  The skin should rub off easily then (you hope—my peppers didn’t want to cooperate so it took a bit longer). Cut the peppers into pieces (they don’t have to be tidy—you’re going to puree the sauce anyway). 

 

A pair of peeled peppers

In a small saucepan (not aluminum), combine the peppers, wine and vinegar. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then lower the heat and simmer for 5-8 minutes, or until the liquid is reduced by half. Add the sugar and cream and cook for another 3-5 minutes, or until the sauce thickens. Transfer the mixture to a blender or food processor and process until the sauce is smooth (you can strain it if you like). Taste and add salt if needed. Set aside. (This can be done well in advance.) 

Pureed pepper sauce

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The chicken: 

1/4 cup goat cheese (room temperature) blended with 1 Tblsp light olive oil

1 Tblsp cream cheese (room temperature)

3 Tblsp minced fresh basil or chives

1 Tblsp fresh lemon juice

Salt and pepper to taste 

In a small bowl, combine the goat cheese, cream cheese, herbs, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Stir to blend.  

The original recipe says to carefully insert this tasty paste under the skin of each breast. Since all the chicken breasts in my market are gigantic, I found it easier to make a pocket in each and stuff the cheese mixture in, securing the stuffing with a toothpick or two. 

2 Tblsp melted unsalted butter

1 tsp minced or crushed garlic

1 tsp coarse salt 

Combine the melted butter, the garlic and the salt and brush over the chicken breasts. 

 

 

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Place the chicken pieces in a shallow ovenproof casserole dish. Bake until cooked through and the top is browned (this will depend on the size of the chicken pieces—mine took about 45 minutes, and were still nice and moist). 

While the chicken is cooking, reheat the pepper sauce over low heat. To serve, place a chicken breast on the center of a plate and spoon the sauce over the top.  Serve with mashed or boiled potatoes. 

 

 

It’s not green, but it sure tastes good! 

 

Lá Shona Fhéile Pádraig!

 

And if you've after some Irish reading,

might I suggest

 

 

 

 

Thai Rice Pudding

by Sheila Connolly

The English author A. A. Milne once wrote: 

What is the matter with Mary Jane?

She’s perfectly well and she hasn’t a pain

And it’s lovely rice pudding for dinner again!

What is the matter with Mary Jane?

 

Easy: she doesn’t like rice pudding. I do. (BTW, A. A. Milne—yes, the Winnie the Pooh one—also wrote a mystery called The Red House Mystery. Even though it was successful, he never wrote another.) 

I did not grow up eating rice pudding. When I was in high school, somehow my mother stumbled on a recipe—I think in a Swedish cookbook—that was about as simple as it could be (put milk, cream, sugar and rice in a casserole, stir, and cook for a few hours), so that became a sort of staple, and I still make it.  

There are less simple variations. Noted chef Marco Pierre White has a signature rice pudding that is delightful (I tried it in Dublin), but I think he sneaks some white chocolate in there. Not a bad idea. The raspberry garnish is nice too. 

 

 

On another note, I collect exotic and obscure ingredients. I may never use all those ingredients, but it gives me great comfort to know that they’re there waiting for me, should I be struck by sudden inspiration or a craving for galangal or achiote. Amongst those ingredients are at least five varieties of rice: jasmine, Arborio, brown, black (also called Forbidden Rice), and the latest addition, sweet rice, also known as sticky rice, Thai rice, sushi rice or glutinous rice. Hey, I’ll try anything once! 

So here I am with a pristine unopened package of sweet rice, on a sub-freezing March day—what shall I do? Make rice pudding! Okay, I could try the old faithful recipe but substitute sweet rice, but where’s the fun in that? So I’m taking on something new: Thai Rice Pudding. (Yes, I have coconut milk in my larder too.) 

 

 

For this one, first you make the rice: 

2 cups sweet rice

3-1/2 cups water

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup sugar (white or brown—your choice)

1 can coconut milk

1 tsp vanilla

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp ground cloves

 

Place the rice in a large pot and add 2 cups of water.  Let the rice soak for at least 10 minutes. Longer is fine. 

 

Rice soaking

 

Add the rest of the water plus the salt and stir well.  Place the pan over high heat and bring to a bubbling boil. Then reduce the heat to medium low. Partially cover with a lid (allow enough room for steam to escape). 

Boil gently for 15-20 minutes, or until all the water has been absorbed. Turn off the heat, place the lid on tightly, and let the rice “steam” for 5-10 minutes. There’s no need to hurry—you do want the rice grains to soften completely. 

 

Rice cooked

 

Remove the lid and add the coconut milk, stirring until it is incorporated (it won’t take long).  Turn the heat on low and add the sugar and spices.  The rice will slowly absorb the coconut milk, and the result will be very thick. (And it gets thicker the longer it sits.) 

Rice with coconut milk added

You can experiment with this rice—try different spices, or none at all. Add some shredded coconut, or maybe raisins or candied fruit. Have fun with it! If there’s any left over, you’ll probably have to dilute it to serve it—it lives up to the name “sticky”!

 

The latest County Cork Mystery--and they do serve rice in Ireland!

 

Potato Something Else

by Sheila Connolly

Have I mentioned that I'm title-challenged? My choice seldom makes it to the cover of a book. So I had no idea what to call this dish, but it tastes good anyway.

Okay, you’ve served the big meal to friends and relatives, and at the end of it all you find you have half a bowl of mashed potatoes left over. You’re too thrifty to throw them out, but there’s not enough left to stretch for another meal. If you work from home, you might just microwave them and eat them for lunch. What a thrill—not! 

 

A bonus picture--a peeler I
bought in Italy. It's a terrible
peeler, but it's so cute!

 

But! I have a recipe! You can use up your leftovers and have a tasty side dish! (Oh, all right, you can make new mashed potatoes to do this too. Or—gasp!—make them from a box.)

 

The leftover potatoes--not too exciting, eh?

 

3 cups of mashed potatoes

2 eggs

2 Tblsp melted butter

1/3 cup sour cream

1 heaping cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

2 tablespoons grated Parmesan

2 tablespoons chopped chives or parsley

Salt and black pepper, to taste  

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly grease a metal pan. 

If the potatoes have been refrigerated, let them come to room temperature. 

In a medium mixing bowl whisk the eggs, then mix in the sour cream. Stir in both cheeses (reserve a little for sprinkling over the top of the dish), the chives and/or parsley, and the melted butter. Add the mixture to the potatoes and mix well (it may end up a little lumpy, depending on the consistency of your potatoes, but it won’t affect the results—this is not a soufflé!). 

 

 

Spoon the mixture into the pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle with the reserved cheese (you can dot the top with butter if you are so inclined). Bake 25- 35 minutes until the top is golden brown.  

 

Before...and after

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remove from the oven and let the dish cool 5 minutes in the pan. Top with sour cream if you like. 

I reduced this recipe by half (hey, there are only two of us eating it!) and it worked fine. You can experiment with different cheeses as well—I’ve been eyeing my goat cheese crumbles… 

This goes well as a side dish for a simple sautéed or broiled meat, like pork chops.

Two weeks on the New York Times bestseller list!

 

 

But you may not have heard that my ebook Relatively Dead is currently on the top 100 Amazon Ebook General list and the top 100 USA Today General list!

Apple Quince Tarte

 

by Sheila Connolly

As you might have heard by now, New England, like much of the country, has been suffering through back-to-back snowstorms. Bad for driving, but good for baking, if you are so inclined (and have power).

I was happy to find fresh quince at the supermarket a couple of weeks ago. They’re odd little critters, with a long history. I have to say upfront, you can’t eat them raw.  They taste kinda like Styrofoam. But cook them, and you have an entirely different story: they become sweeter and they give a kind of silken texture to whatever you cook them with.

Quince tree at Old Sturbridge Village

Being snowbound, I had only a few fresh apples. But since I write about an apple orchard, I happen to have the last of last year’s crop from my own trees. They’ve been refrigerated since I picked them, but otherwise I haven’t done anything to them. When I pulled them out they were soft and a bit wrinkled, but not rotted, and they tasted fine. I felt like one of my ancestors, pulling out the last season’s harvest, while waiting for reluctant spring.  Bottom line, I had two new Cortlands, and three old Cortlands, plus two quince.

This is basically a tarte Tatin, which I first encountered in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art etc. a long time ago. But the dish scared me, because serving it for guests (which helps justify the effort that goes into making it) is risky because of that heart-stopping moment when you have to invert the tarte from its cooking pan onto a serving dish. It is fraught with peril: will the tarte emerge intact? Or will you be serving your guests an apple cobbler disguised with ice cream? (Hey, it tastes good either way.)

This one worked! And the result had a wonderful, rich flavor—the combination of caramel, apples and quince is delightful.

Apple Quince Tarte 

For a 9” tart

One 10” circle of pastry (use whatever you like—puff pastry, home-made, or straight from the supermarket freezer))

2 Tblsp unsalted butter

6 Tblsp sugar

1-2/3 – 2 lbs apples (soft to middling)

2-3 quinces, poached in vanilla syrup

To poach the quinces:

Make a syrup of 1 cup water, ½ cup sugar, and a vanilla bean, in a non-corroding saucepan (not aluminum).

Quarter and core the quinces, and slice 1/2 inch thick. Add the slices to the syrup, bring to a simmer, cover and let cook, barely simmering, for about 2-1/2 hours, until the slices are a warm pinkish-tan color and soft.  Do not stir: if the slices float to the top, push gently down again.  Let the slices cool in their poaching liquid.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Quarter, core and peel the apples, then slice them lengthwise.

Just starting--once it starts to caramelize,
you don't have time to take pictures!

In a 9-inch cast-iron skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat then immediately add the sugar and stir constantly.  Cook until the sugar is a golden caramel color, stirring steadily. Remove from the heat (the sugar will continue to cook from the heat of the pan for a bit). (Note: this will harden on its own, so move fairly quickly to add the next ingredients.)

Make a ring of apples over the caramel in the pan, around the edge, then make another ring in the center.  Press the slices of poached quince between the apple slices. (Another note: when liquid, the caramel is hot, so don’t burn your fingers!)

Set the pastry on top of the fruit, and when soft enough (if chilled), press in down over the filling at the sides of the pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for 30-35 minutes, or until the apples are soft and the pastry is browned. (Test the apples with a sharp knife.)  Remove the pan from the oven and let rest for a minute or two. Set a serving plate upside down on top of the pan. Lifting the two together (three asbestos hands would be helpful about now!), flip them both over so that the tart drops onto the plate (hopefully intact!) If a few bits of fruit stick to the pan, you can rearrange the tart.

It worked!

Serve warm with crème fraiche or vanilla ice cream. (If you have to wait, leave it in the pan, then return it to the oven for 5-10 minutes to soften the caramel again (shake the pan to make sure it’s dislodged).

A New York Times bestseller!

And this one is a Nook
bestseller this week!

My Mother's Chocolate Sauce

by Sheila Connolly

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'll give you a yummy (and quick and easy) chocolate recipe in a minute, but first...

SCANDAL IN SKIBBEREEN IS #11 ON THE NEW YORK TIMES PAPERBACK BESTSELLER LIST!

(Okay, I'll stop shouting now)

 

You can’t have too many chocolate recipes, right? Especially not at this time of year, when after shoveling the last batch of snow you want something warm and comforting.

My mother’s Sunday Dinner with the Relatives menu seldom varied. These occurred every three weeks on average—my grandmother lived in Manhattan and in the years when we lived in New Jersey (which coincided with the years when I learned to cook) she enjoyed getting out of the city into the “country.” After a while the step-grands (the Swedish ones) were added to the mix, but the menu didn’t change.

It went like this: standing rib roast (two ribs), cooked rare. (Would you believe I’ve never tried to cook one? Of course, now it would take a third mortgage to afford one.) Potatoes. Something green (beans or broccoli). And for dessert, vanilla ice cream with home-made chocolate sauce.

Part of the charm of this dessert was the bowls, which I inherited (you’ll see them later). But I remember the suspense when my mother made the sauce at the last minute (must be served hot!), because there was always the risk that it would crystalize and be ruined. Or turn into sticky candy. I think this instilled a long-standing fear of cooking with chocolate in me, at least until microwaves came along and it became much easier to melt the stuff. And back then, there was Baker’s Chocolate, period. Milk or dark, but no fancy gourmet brands.

The recipe originated in the trusty battered (ooh, a food pun!) Fanny Farmer cookbook that was my mother’s first (I inherited it). You can see from the page that it has seen much wear—and also that she amended the recipe.

But then, amongst the recipe cards from about the same era, in her own hand, is yet another variation of the recipe ingredients! Is that the ultimate version?

Anyway, here goes:

HOT CHOCOLATE SAUCE

2 squares (2 oz.) unsweetened chocolate (use whatever brand you prefer)
2 Tblsp butter
1/2 cup boiling water
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cup light Karo syrup
1/2 tsp vanilla
Pinch of salt

My heirloom double boiler

In the top of a double boiler (okay, how many of you have a double boiler? Raise your hand! I’m using my grandmother’s) over hot (not boiling) water, melt the chocolate.

Chocolate, melted

 
Add the butter and stir until melted, then add the boiling water gradually, stirring continuously.

Butter and water added

 Raise the heat, then add the sugar and the corn syrup.  Cook at high heat (as high as a double boiler will go, anyway) for about five minutes—make sure the sugar is dissolved.

All in!

Cool slightly, then add vanilla and salt.

My mother used to make this right before we sat down at the dining table for the main course, and leave it in the double-boiler over low heat until it was time for dessert.  She would serve it over vanilla ice cream—and here’s where the dishes come into play.  You will notice there’s a nice deep well in the bottom, so the scoops of ice cream sat over it, and when you poured the sauce on top, you had a handy little reservoir of warm sauce waiting for you on the bottom.

 

The chocolate bonus

It tastes just the way I remember it. I hope my mother is pleased!

Ah yes, there's this book that came out last week--yup, that one, the BEST SELLER. No chocolate that I can recall, but surely there would have been some at tea in the manor house?

Irish Chicken and Cabbage

by Sheila Connolly

In honor of the twin events of Saint Bridget’s Day (February 1^st) and the release of my second County Cork Mystery, Scandal in Skibbereen (February 4^th) this past week, I went hunting for an Irish recipe.

I know what you’re thinking: potatoes and cabbage, boiled, with maybe some butter thrown in. But there’s so much more! Irish cooking has improved immeasurably in the past decade, from country pub to Dublin white tablecloth venues, and now it’s much more interesting.

I found one promising possibility in Margaret M. Johnson’s delightful Irish Pub Cookbook. But of course I had to tinker with it. You know, I hated it when my mother departed from a recipe—I used to whine, “why can’t you just make it like the book says, the first time?” Of course, her idea of tinkering was adding a dash of vermouth. So why do I find myself doing it now? Yup, changing things. No vermouth, though.

The first thing that struck me in reading the recipe was that it called for 5- to 6- ounce bone-in chicken breasts. I do prefer the bone-in type, especially if the dish cooks for a bit, because they’re more flavorful. What stopped me cold was the “5 to 6 ounce” measure.  We buy chicken at our local supermarket and hunt for the smallest breasts possible. I weighed one when I made this dish and it turned out to be 13 ounces. More twice the Irish size. That’s ridiculous. Why can’t we find reasonable-size chickens here?

Anyway, this is a tasty, healthy dish with an Irish flavor.  It’s not quick, but the slow cooking give you a tender and juicy piece of chicken.

Irish Chicken and Cabbage

1/2 cup flour
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 bone-in chicken breast halves, with skin on
1/4 cup olive oil
3 cloves garlic, peeled
2 carrots, peeled and thickly sliced
1 medium onion, thickly sliced
2 bay leaves
1 Tblsp parsley, minced
1 Tblsp fresh rosemary
2 cups shredded cabbage
1-1/2 cups chicken stock (homemade/canned/from a bouillon cube)
And my own little twist—a tablespoon or two of Irish whiskey

Huge, aren't they?

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Mix the flour, salt and pepper in a shallow bowl or pie pan and dredge the chicken pieces in it, shaking off the excess.

In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the chicken pieces and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes per side, until lightly browned. Transfer the chicken to a large baking dish or casserole.

Tuck the garlic cloves, carrots, onions and bay leaves around and between the chicken pieces.  Sprinkle with the parsley and rosemary. Lay the cabbage in an even layer on top and season with salt and pepper.

Hmm, the bottle seems
to be empty

Mix the whiskey into the broth and pour the liquid over the chicken and vegetables. Cover the contents of the casserole with foil (press it against the contents to make a fairly close seal), then place the casserole in the oven and cook for 75 to 90 minutes (remember, the heat is low). You can peek once or twice and baste the top with the pan juices if you need to.

To serve, place a piece of chicken on the plate and spoon the vegetables and sauce over it.

And raise a glass to Saint Bridget! (Oh, all right, Saint Patrick if you must, but he’ll get his turn later.)

Tá sé mo leabhar nua.

That means, "this is my new book" in Irish. It's great reading for a miserable winter day--the crumbling manor house, a lost painting, old family secrets, and the final reveal in the drawing room over tea.
Oh, and visit my redesigned website at www.sheilaconnolly.com
 And! There are pictures of places that appear in the book here on Pinterest.