This blog also helped. I'm enjoying this guy immensely.
I've got a new nickname for that husband o' mine, but you'll have to come back for a future post for that. I'm not quite ready to spill the beans on what will surely elicit smirks and chuckles from several friends. Not to mention sheer terror for those who watch him grill. Here's a clue - it has to do with a fascination with fire, how to start one quickly and play in the flames.
Wednesday our kids went to some extracurricular lessons after school. Blessed is the day when your firstborn obtains her drivers license and you are no longer responsible for schlepping. Especially when Spring weather cooperates and the mercury rises above 50 degrees. It's a tropical heatwave, people!
We planned ahead. I bought some hefty rib eyes earlier in the day for some Bobby Flay Perfection.
We ditched our no no alcohol rule for Monday - Thursday. The first sunny day of the year calls for all kinds of delinquency. And I simply had to recreate last week's apéritif from Catalina Island. Boy oh boy I like this one. It's firmly set in the rotation. I'm calling it the Minty Cucumber Mojito. It's pretty simple to make, and even easier to slug down in 53 seconds. To make it, gather:
Quarter the lime, juice it into a muddler and add 5-6 mint sprigs and 4-5 thin slices of cucumber. Muddle away, trying to break down the cucumber while releasing the oils in the mint.
Speaking of babies, Miller is like a pig in shit these days. Spring is good for everyone, canines included. He loves hanging outside begging for food instead of inside begging for food.
He's in desperate need of some summertime cabin swimming to return to his boyish physique.
I always associate this recipe with my Aunt Doll. Growing up I remember seeing this in Delia's scrawl on a 3x5 index card in my mom's recipe box. And while I haven't made it very often (WHY?? BUTTER AND GARLIC AND ALCOHOL AND BREAD, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!) I always think of her when I do.
But the other night, too lazy to search in my own recipe mess for her version, I looked up the dish online and savored my cocktail while learning a bit of history. Surprisingly, this decadent dish originated in Chicago, dating back to the 1892 Columbian Exposition (World's Fair). Belgian immigrant brothers - Henri, Pierre and Charles de Jonghe - and their sisters arrived in the Stinky Onion a year earlier to make their fortune in America. They seized the opportunity the fair promised to enterprising individuals and opened a restaurant nearby on the south side. After a successful run, they opened a hotel and moved the restaurant to 12 E. Monroe. Sadly though, they were shut down after the head waiter sold an undercover prohibition agent three pints of whiskey for $10 each in 1923.
$10 a pint? Please tell me who drinks an entire pint of whiskey? Let alone three? Assuming it was uncut, why didn't that goofy waiter just offer to sell him an entire bottle? But I can't judge. If alcohol were labeled unlawful in today's day and age, I'd fork over $100 for a glass of whiskey if I could get my hands on one.
Henri de Jonghe and his head chef, Emile Zehr, are credited for the dish. According to this article in the Tribune, the original recipe went to the grave with Henri in 1961 when he died at the age of 98. I mixed it up the other night and bucked tradition, subbing white wine for the sherry.
Here's how I made ours.
Grilled Shrimp de Jonghe for Two
10 large prawns, shelled and deveined
Several splashes of Chardonnay
4 T butter, softened (microwave for a tic if necessary)
Chopped fresh Italian Parsley - about a Tablespoon or two
Microplaned Garlic (one clove) and Onion (enough to taste)
Salt and Pepper
Squeeze of 1/2 lemon
Fresh focaccia bread, sliced and toasted
Throw the shrimp into a grill proof pan. Splash it with some Chardonnay, probably 4-5 Tablespoons. In a small dish mix the softened butter with the parsley, garlic, onion, salt, pepper and a dash of paprika.
Funny sidebar - when I went to dash my paprika on the butter, I opened the wrong side and about 1/4 cup went spilling into the butter. Don't be like me. My dish is way more orange than yours will be, despite my efforts to dump the excess into the sink.
Break or slice the toasted bread into thimble-sized crumbs, and toss all over the shrimp. Dot the pan with pieces of the jacked up butter and squeeze the juice of 1/2 lemon all over. It's all going to melt together into a gooey yummy mess, so don't stress about how it looks. Throw it on the grill and flip the shrimp a couple of times. It'll cook in less than five minutes. As soon as the shrimp are opaque in the middle, pull it off and dig in. We used extra pieces of toasted bread to soak up the buttery, garlicky goodness.
Enjoy! This is a fabulous way to enjoy Springtime.