Shrimp Enchiladas with Sweet Potatoes and Salsa Verde

These enchiladas, filled with sweet potatoes, draw inspiration from other recipes on this site: sweet potato (yam) enchiladas and tacos with salsa verde. Here you get the sweet potato enchiladas, but in place of the traditional enchilada sauce, there is a halfway-homemade salsa verde. I say halfway because unlike the salsa verde with the tacos, where you roast the onions and tomatillos, here you blend some basic ingredients (like cilantro and green chiles) and add prepared salsa verde. This meal is a little different without much effort. In place of the usual chicken, there’s shrimp, and instead of cheddar, there’s feta, a little closer in texture to cotija, a cheese from Mexico. It’s something new for fall, when casserole dishes are most welcome and sweet potatoes are in heavy rotation.

 

 

 

 

 

Shrimp Enchiladas with Sweet Potatoes and Salsa Verde
Adapted from Bon Appetit

2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
½ onion, sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
½ teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon salt
1 garlic clove, peeled
2 cups coarsely chopped cilantro
1 cup chopped green onions
1 4-ounce can diced green chiles, drained
2 cups prepared salsa verde (tomatillo salsa)
¼ cup sour cream
1 pound cooked shrimp, tails removed
10 flour tortillas
6 ounces crumbled feta cheese

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil. In a large bowl, combine the sweet potato cubes, sliced onion, olive oil, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt. Toss to coat. Spread the sweet potato mixture on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 35 minutes or until the potatoes are tender (no need to stir while baking).
2. While the sweet potatoes bake, make the salsa: Finely chop the garlic in a food processor. Add cilantro, green onions, and green chiles; process until a coarse puree forms. Add the salsa verde and process until blended. Add sour cream, and process again until blended.
3. When the sweet potatoes are done, reduce oven heat to 375 degrees. Transfer the sweet potato mixture to a large bowl and add the shrimp; stir to combine and coat the shrimp in the spices.
4. Spread ½ cup of the salsa in the bottom of a large baking dish. Put some of the sweet potato/shrimp mixture in the center of a tortilla and top with about 2 tablespoons feta. Roll up the tortilla and place in the baking dish, seam side down. Repeat with remaining tortillas,  filling, and cheese (you will have leftover filling and cheese).
5. Spread remaining filling on top of folded tortillas. Follow with remaining salsa. Top with any remaining cheese. Bake the enchiladas for 20 minutes.

Winning Winter: Black Bean and Goat Cheese Quesadillas

I know that many others have said it already, but I am so over the rainy weather. Here in Seattle, we are blessed with more sunshine than people think, but this winter has lived up to the stereotype of a very rainy city. And when it’s not rainy, we have clouds.  Lots. Still want to move here, Silicon Valley techies?

Since I’m saving my money for other upcoming adventures, I have to devise strategies other than taking a vacation to a warm locale. Cooking helps, especially when I crave simple, warm meals that soothe me when I return home from another rainy walk. There’s something about delicious smells and tastes that makes snow-rain mixes a little more tolerable. Winter is a good time to take old standbys and turn them into something more luxurious, more special, to brighten up dark evenings.

That’s why adding goat cheese to these quesadillas is so brilliant. I know cheddar cheese is the standard, and for good reason, but adding creamy goat cheese to a quesadilla intrigued me. I will warn you, though, that this filling doesn’t have the appealing appearance of bright orange or yellow cheddar oozing in delicious meltiness. When you stir the goat cheese into the mashed black beans, the filling turns a light gray color that even vibrant green cilantro can’t save, looks-wise. Luckily it’s folded up inside a quesadilla, where no one will examine it too closely.

It’s worth getting past this appearance issue, because the filling tastes fantastic—it’s an appealing mix of textures, creamy with bits of bean and cilantro. You might worry, as I did (as I always do), that there isn’t enough filling. You might have thoughts of doubling it next time. But you don’t need to. You need just two, at most three tablespoons of filling per quesadilla, which you have to spread thinly so it’s easy to flip.

These quesadillas are best eaten right after they are made, when they are crisp on the outside and warm from the skillet. But it’s easy to enhance the leftovers with mashed avocado or salsa. If making food like this is how we’re going to cope with blah rainy weather, then I can be (at least a little more) patient for spring.

Black Bean and Goat Cheese Quesadillas
Adapted from Amy’s

1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
5 ounces goat cheese
1/3 cup chopped cilantro leaves
8 tortillas
Olive oil, for the pan
1 avocado
A little lime juice, to stir in with the mashed avocado

1. In a large bowl, mash the black beans until a chunky puree forms. Mash in the goat cheese until well combined. Stir in the cilantro leaves.
2. Spread 2-3 tablespoons of filling on one half of a tortilla (you should spread it thinly). Fold the side with no filling over and press gently to make sure the tortilla sticks to the filling and stays in place. Set on a plate. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling.
3. Heat a little olive oil in a skillet or grill pan over medium-low heat. Place as many quesadillas as you can fit in the skillet or pan and cook until browned on the underside, then flip and cook the other side. Repeat with remaining quesadillas, adding a little more oil between batches.
4. While the quesadillas cook, peel and mash the avocado in a small bowl. Add lime juice to taste (taste test as needed). Serve the quesadillas with the mashed avocado for spreading on top or dipping.

For Love of Cheese: Enchilada Casserole

This casserole almost didn’t get made simply because the recipe header gave me a small freakout. It began like this: “Your typical vegetarian enchiladas are mostly cheese.” Mmm, yes. Cheese. Then: “That’s not the case with this version.” What?!  Luckily, once I caught my breath, I checked the ingredients list and found that there was still a cup of grated cheese in the recipe. The writer just wanted to emphasize all the good vegetables in the dish, which I guess is cool too.

Calling this meal enchiladas, though, is misleading; casserole is more accurate. Unlike conventional enchiladas—tortillas filled with cheese, vegetables, and/or meat and covered in enchilada sauce—the tortillas here are cut into quarters and layered between the cheese, beans, vegetables, and sauce. This method emphasizes the vegetables, and also lets the tortillas be more than just vehicles for tasty fillings; they’re a nice bit of carb among all those veggies (and cheese, which I doubled from the original recipe, just to be safe).

I’m a big fan of meals that, after just a little prep work, let you put the dish in the oven and forget about it for a half hour or more. During that time the apartment fills with wonderful smells, and yet I don’t have to do anything but wait. It’s not like cooking something on the stove, where you have to stir and pay attention as it simmers. This casserole has you sauté some onion, spinach, and corn before layering the ingredients in a baking dish and baking it for 30 minutes. Aside from cutting the tortillas and grating the cheese, that’s basically it.

Casseroles sometimes get a bad rap (understandable, with things like tuna noodle and cream of mushroom casseroles still haunting us), but trust me on this, casseroles made from scratch with a focus on good flavors are what we need. For weeknights, for parties, for leftovers during busy weeks. This is why casseroles are so essential. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with one, you can start experimenting, adding and subbing different vegetables depending on price, season, and taste. These are forgiving and accommodating meals.

One of the best things about casseroles is they are easy to share, and sharing what you have with others is always admirable, especially now. Build a longer table, not a higher wall, as they say. Also, enjoy the cheese.

Enchilada Casserole
Adapted from Sunset

1 tablespoon vegetable or olive oil
½ of an onion, diced
1 pound spinach leaves
1 cup frozen corn kernels
1 19-ounce can enchilada sauce
10 corn tortillas, each sliced into quarters
1 16-ounce can refried beans
1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
2 cups grated Colby jack cheese

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes or until softened. Add the spinach and cook until wilted, stirring occasionally (you might have to add the spinach leaves in batches, adding more as they wilt down). Stir in the corn and cook for a couple of minutes, then remove pan from heat.
2. Spread 2/3 cup of the enchilada sauce in the bottom of a 9×13-inch (or similar size) baking dish. Top with about 12 of the tortilla triangles, followed by the refried beans, black beans, and 2/3 cup of the grated cheese. Top with another 12 tortilla triangles, followed by the spinach mixture. Finish with the remaining tortillas, followed by the remaining sauce and cheese.
3. Bake the casserole for 30 minutes or until the cheese is melted and bubbling a bit and the edges of any visible tortillas are lightly browned.

Tomatillo Treasure: Tacos with Salsa Verde

In the spirit of expanding my horizons and whatnot, I’ve lately experimented with ingredients I don’t use often. One of these was mascarpone cheese. Another was tomatillos, which resemble a green tomato and are wrapped in a papery husk oozing sticky sap. If you got past “sticky sap” and are still reading, congrats, because this unusual vegetable transforms into an excellent sauce.

Tomatillos are members of the nightshade family, and are a longtime feature of Mexican cuisine (a really long time—they were favored by the Mayans and Aztecs, or so Wikipedia tells me). I’d only used them once before, and it was to make these tacos in college. I didn’t use tomatillos again until just recently, and that’s a shame, because salsa verde—the most common use for tomatillos—deserves a place on tacos, burritos, nachos, chicken, and anything else you can think of that works.

I began by broiling the tomatillos, onion, bell pepper, and garlic. Broiling for more than a minute or two makes me nervous. When I think about it I picture a grilled cheese sandwich emerging from the oven blackened after an attempt to broil it. That image has come to represent all my broiling anxieties, which I had to set aside in order to make this meal. The promise of something delicious often wins over worries (not unfounded, mind you) about burning the food. Luckily, it all turned out fabulous: the tomatillos were pleasantly charred, the thin crescents of onion cooked to perfection.

From there, the recipe was less stress-inducing. I blended the tomatillos with a generous bunch of cilantro leaves, which weave their distinctive flavor throughout the sauce. It’s vibrant, as bright and pleasant as new spring leaves. Served on top of beans, cheese, and roasted pepper and onion, the sauce elevates this meal to something beyond—and better than—a regular weeknight taco. (Full disclosure: I added more cheese to my tacos after taking these pictures.)

Tomatillos may not look like much, tucked away in the produce section (well, that’s how it is at our local grocery), covered in muted green husks that belie their ability to transform into a versatile sauce. Once you discover them, I think you’ll see why they have such staying power.

Tacos with Salsa Verde

Olive oil for greasing the baking sheet
¾ pound tomatillos (about 6), husks removed
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 onion, sliced into crescent strips
1 bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 cup chopped cilantro leaves
1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
Corn tortillas
1 avocado, sliced
1 cup (or more) grated white cheddar cheese

1. Heat oven broiler. Lightly grease a baking sheet with olive oil. Spread whole tomatillos and garlic cloves and sliced onion and bell pepper on the baking sheet. Broil for 6 minutes. Remove from oven, stir vegetables, and return to oven to broil 6 minutes more. The tomatillos should be charred in places and the onion and pepper should be soft and browned in some places.
2. Place cilantro leaves and roasted tomatillos and garlic in a food processor and pulse until a smooth sauce forms.
3. In a small saucepan, heat the beans over low heat. Heat the corn tortillas in the microwave or in the oven on low heat.
4. To assemble the tacos, place a couple small spoonfuls of black beans on a corn tortilla. Top with a couple bell pepper strips and onion slices. Top with a tablespoon or so of the salsa verde, avocado slices, and cheese. Repeat until the fillings and sauce are used up.

A Cookie With Many Names: Wedding Cookies

These cookies go by many names: Russian tea cakes, Mexican wedding cookies and, in this recipe from Saveur, Southern-style wedding cookies. Chopped pecans make them Southern, and the magazine says they are often served at Southern weddings.

Of course, you don’t need to be a Southerner or going to a wedding to have a reason to make these. (But, the wedding season is upon us, so if you need a gift for a couple, these might do the trick.) I first made them on a Wednesday evening in May for a Cinco de Mayo-themed work potluck; my search for “Mexican wedding cookies” led me here. I used a food processor to chop the pecans, but if you don’t have such a tool, you can chop the pecans into quarters; they don’t need to be extra small.

The dough, however, is a lot less flexible than you would expect it to be, especially since it’s mostly butter. More accurately, the dough is soft to the touch, but quickly gums up the hand mixer. I recommend beating the flour and butter with a mixer, stopping a few times to scrape the dough from the beaters back in to the bowl, but stirring in the chopped pecans and vanilla extract with a large spoon. No need for unnecessary frustrations.

After the cookies bake and cool enough to hold, you roll them in powdered sugar. I prefer just a dusting of powdered sugar rather than a thick coating, to keep the sweetness in check and make them easier to eat. I wasn’t sure how well the sugar would stick to the cookies, but it adhered beautifully. When you bite into these cookies, they crunch just a bit before dissolving into buttery goodness. It’s amazing how such a small, simple cookie feels so luxurious.

This cookie’s various names speak to what a crowd-pleasing dessert it is. Whatever you call these, they’re delicious.

Wedding Cookies
Adapted from Saveur
Makes approximately 30 cookies

16 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
6 tablespoons plus 1 cup confectioner’s sugar
1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups coarsely chopped pecans (about ½ pound whole pecans; chop in a food processor to save time and energy)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Heat oven to 275 degrees. If the butter was not softened beforehand, place the sticks of butter in a bowl and put them in the oven to soften a bit.
2. Using an electric hand mixer, beat together the softened butter and 6 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar until well blended. Add the flour ½ cup at a time, blending with the hand mixer after each addition. The dough will get tough to blend, but keep going. One thing that helps is pausing every now and then to scrape the dough from the beaters back into the bowl. If blending becomes particularly difficult, switch to a sturdy spoon to stir in the flour.
3. Using a large spoon, stir in the chopped pecans and vanilla extract.
4. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or grease them with butter. Roll the dough into 1-inch diameter balls, placing them on the prepared baking sheets.
5. Bake the cookies for 15 minutes. Switch the baking sheets so the sheet on the top rack is on the bottom, and vice versa. Bake for an additional 15 minutes. Remove cookies from the oven and carefully transfer them to plates to cool.
6. Pour 1 cup confectioner’s sugar into a bowl. When the cookies are cool enough to hold, roll each cookie in the sugar, gently shaking to dust off excess sugar.

Favorite Things: Egg, Cheese, and Bean Tostadas

Every time I think about these tostadas, I wish I could eat them right away. They take a combination of a few of my favorite ingredients—cheese, black beans, avocados, fresh cilantro—and top it all with a fried egg.

Yes, I’m a tad obsessed with eggs—just look at the facts. I eat frittatas for dinner. I put eggs on pizza. I scramble them with ricotta or put them in stir-fries. No, the egg companies aren’t paying me to say this; I’m crazy about eggs all on my own. I also love Mexican food. Even though people actually in Mexico and Southern California probably think Mexican food in Seattle is a sorry approximation at best, I still enjoy the local Mexican restaurants and making the dishes at home.

So it’s really no surprise that I landed on this recipe from Cooking Light. It has nearly everything I want from a meal, ingredient-wise, and making it is simple enough to qualify for weeknight fare. You begin by broiling the tortillas, flipping them, topping them with beans and cheese, and broiling them again. I’m anxious about broiling—so many burned food memories—but 2 minutes on one side and 1 minute on the other was exactly enough to get the tortillas crisped and browned but not burned.

While the tortillas broil, you fry the eggs. There’s a whole bunch of blog posts and articles out there about the best way to fry eggs; here’s my contribution. I oil a large skillet (with about 1 tablespoon of oil), heat the oil over medium heat, and crack in two eggs. I let the eggs cook in the oil, flipping them once the side touching the pan is lightly browned, and repeat on the other side. I like the yolks slightly runny, but you should cook yours over a lower heat for longer if you want the yolks fully cooked.

In the magazine, these tostadas are billed as heuvos rancheros tacos, but as I see it, they are an improvement on tacos because you’re not restricted by having to fold it in half after you’ve piled all of your favorite ingredients on. Just thinking about it, I wish I could eat them right away.

Egg, Cheese, and Bean Tostadas
Adapted from Cooking Light

8 6-inch corn tortillas
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for tortillas
½ cup grated orange cheddar
½ cup grated sharp white cheddar
1 15-ounce can black beans, rinsed and drained
8 eggs
Pico de gallo or other salsa, to taste
Sour cream, to taste
1 avocado, peeled, seed removed, and mashed
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro

1. Heat oven broiler. Arrange 4 tortillas each on 2 baking sheets. Spread a little olive oil on each tortilla. When the broiler is ready, put one of the baking sheets in the oven and broil the tortillas for 2 minutes. Repeat with second sheet of tortillas.
2. Turn the tortillas over and top each one with cheese and beans. Broil one sheet of tortillas at a time for 1 minute each.
3. While the tortillas broil, cook the eggs. In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Crack 2 eggs into the pan. Cook until both eggs are lightly browned on the bottom, then flip the eggs and cook the other side until lightly browned. Repeat with remaining eggs, adding another tablespoon of oil after you’ve cooked 4 of the eggs.
4. To assemble the tostadas: Top each tortilla with a fried egg. Dollop a little pico de gallo, sour cream, and mashed avocado on top. Finish with a sprinkling of cilantro.

A Bellingham inspiration: Yam enchiladas

Nostalgia is a funny thing. Out of the blue, I was dreaming of Boundary Bay’s yam enchiladas (AleChiladas, to be exact), which are acclaimed in many circles, including on this blog. Since a trip up to Bellingham was not in the works, I decided to make my own version of yam enchiladas.

The first try was a total flop (and is not pictured). It wasn’t all my fault; the tortillas we used were stale, and cracked when we rolled them. The filling was just plain yams, and while yams taste wonderful, they needed something else. Plus there wasn’t enough sauce. The meal wasn’t inedible, and we ate it all, but I knew it wasn’t worthy of this blog. So I started searching. I dove into my collection of cooking magazines because, even though there are gazillions of enchilada recipes on the internet, I never turn down an excuse to flip through my collection.

This recipe is from Cooking Light, which is just the place I would expect to find such a simple classic (people try to make enchiladas fancy and highbrow, but I know I love the messy, minimal version). It called for chicken, but I replaced the chicken with mashed yams. I began by baking the yams until they were ultra-soft and slightly browned. Then I scooped the yams out of their skins and into a bowl for mashing. Meanwhile, the sauce, a mixture of onion, broth, tomato sauce, black beans, and various spices, including chili powder and cayenne, simmered on the stove.

I distributed some of the sauce among the tortillas, so they were filled with more than just yams. I poured the rest (and there was plenty) on top of the rolled-up tortillas in the baking dish. The finishing touch: plenty of shredded cheddar and chopped canned tomatoes (I’ll use fresh in the summer). Next, you might expect that I baked it, but no: I broiled the enchiladas, a much speedier process by far. Thank goodness for Cooking Light.

This enchilada recipe, as Thomas said, is “a keeper.” I agree. It’s not quite the yam enchiladas at Boundary Bay, but it’s something special of its own. Hopefully I’ll look back on these times with a smile, as I do now when I think of gathering with friends at Boundary Bay and many times spent enjoying the meals there.

Yam Enchiladas
Adapted from Cooking Light (and inspired by Boundary Bay Brewery)

2 large yams, each cut in half lengthwise
1 cup diced white onion
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 ½ tablespoons chili powder
2 teaspoons ground cumin
¾ teaspoon garlic powder
½ teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1 15-ounce can tomato sauce (not red sauce for pasta, but a smooth puree)
1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
10 6-inch white flour or whole wheat tortillas
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 15-ounce can diced tomatoes, drained well

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Place the yams cut side down on a lightly oiled baking sheet. Bake for 60 minutes, or until each yam is easily pierced with a fork. Allow the yams to cool enough to hold, then use a spoon to scoop the yams away from the skins, into a bowl. Using a potato masher, mash the yams until they are smooth.
2. In a deep skillet or saucepan, whisk together the onion, broth, flour, chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, cayenne, and tomato sauce. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Let simmer for 2 minutes, stirring often (the sauce will thicken a bit during this time). Stir in beans; let cook for 2 minutes.
3. Preheat oven broiler. Heat the tortillas in the microwave for 2 minutes (or more, if needed). Lightly oil a large, deep baking dish. Spread a hefty spoonful of mashed yams on a tortilla; top with a small spoonful of the onion/bean mixture. Roll up the tortilla as tight as you can, and place in prepared baking dish, seam side down. Repeat with remaining tortillas and mashed yams (there will be lots of sauce left over).
4. Pour the remaining sauce evenly over the rolled-up tortillas in the dish. Top with grated cheddar and diced tomatoes.
5. Broil enchiladas for 3 minutes, or until the cheese is lightly browned and bubbling.

Warming up October, with tacos and spice

Tacos epitomize summer, recalling boardwalks and food trucks, fresh corn and tomatoes, and handheld snacks perfect for a picnic at the beach. It’s a food that embodies a do-it-yourself principle, something that appeals to everyone at those summer potlucks.

Leave it to me to make tacos on a chilly October night, when the sun had been down for hours and no one in their right mind would think of going to the beach.

But in my search for food with family appeal (my family, specifically) that didn’t take hours out of my midweek evening, I landed on this taco recipe, from the Vegetarian Times. At first, I felt a tinge of out-of-season guilt at the thought of using corn at a time of year when it’s all but gone. Then I noticed that the recipe called for frozen corn, which somehow made me feel better. Freezing is a bit like preserving, and that’s all the rage these days! Guilt assuaged, I went through my usual routine of substitutions, replacing spinach with lettuce (for Kyle), jarred bell peppers with fresh (better texture and flavor), and feta with Monterey Jack (easier to find at Bainbridge’s Safeway, where our groceries come from). Finally, because the fresh cilantro miraculously goes unused too often, I opted for dried. This turned out to be a good choice, as it blended well with the other spices mixed with the corn.

As I assembled the ingredients, I ran into a roadblock right away: no black beans in the pantry. I  shuffled through various oils, pastas, and sauces before finding a can of white kidney beans. They would have to suffice. I blended them with salsa, cumin, and garlic, then mashed them after a few minutes of cooking. Sometimes, not all beans are interchangeable, but this time, it seemed that all beans are beans.

Next came the corn, from a can in this iteration. It went into the skillet with pepper, chili powder (not cayenne, and better for it, I think), and more cumin. I cooked the corn on medium-high for 5 minutes, then reduced the heat to medium-low for the remaining 5; otherwise, it would have burned. The corn achieved a crisp sweetness, accented by smoky cumin and chili. As it cooked, I stirred in the dried cilantro, and the kitchen was perfumed with the spices.

Somehow, everything fit into those small corn tortillas: the smooth, mashed beans with the sweetness and spice of tomato salsa; the corn, crunchy yet tender, with a mix of smoky spices; the crunch and snap of lettuce and fresh bell pepper alongside tender green onions; and the cheese, a glorious topping, as usual. Perhaps so many flavors and textures could be overwhelming, but here they blended well, with the beans and corn bonded by cumin, the garnishes adding contrast and mixing with the fillings without a problem.

Something I hadn’t expected, but which was a welcome surprise, was that the tacos, with their smokiness and spiciness, were warming on a chilly fall evening. Here was a dish that, by evoking summer, provided a respite from the cold. Perfect for October.

Tacos with Beans and Corn
Adapted from The Vegetarian Times

1 15-ounce can white beans, drained and rinsed
½ cup salsa
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 ½ teaspoons cumin
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 15-ounce can corn, drained (or 15 ounces frozen corn)
1 teaspoon chili powder
Dried cilantro, to taste
1 red bell pepper, sliced into thin strips
2 green onions, chopped
6-inch tortillas (flour or corn)
Spinach or lettuce leaves
Grated Jack cheese

1. Combine beans, salsa, garlic, and 1 teaspoon cumin in a large skillet. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce heat and let cook for 5 minutes. Keep bean mixture warm on low heat.
2. In a second large skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Combine corn, chili powder, and dried cilantro in the skillet. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring often. Add bell pepper strips and chopped green onion. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring often.
3. Heat tortillas in the microwave or oven. Layer the beans, corn mixture, spinach, and cheese inside the tortillas.

Taking a page from the past: Unexpected soup

This past weekend, I found a stack of old journals spanning third grade to middle school. Most of it wasn’t worth reading—embarrassingly bad poetry, over-the-top teen angst. But my journal from third grade, devoid of whining and self-pity, was a good read. A blossoming foodie, I faithfully recorded what we ate for dinner every night. I wrote about making paper mache globes and growing plants in the classroom, and running around the neighborhood with friends. Tragedy was limited to my backyard: “My heart is breaking,” I wrote as the nearby field was torn apart to make way for houses.

In a way, I feel most connected to my third grade self, who liked to  play in the woods (grownups call this “hiking”) and spend hours at the beach. Still, I doubt my third grade self would have found this shrimp soup palatable. I was still years away from really appreciating avocados and myriad vegetables. Nine-year-old Shawna may have just eaten the shrimp. Fourteen years later, there wasn’t anything in this soup I wouldn’t eat.

I hadn’t even intended to make soup. Inspired by tabbouleh in Cooking Light, I wanted to make a Southwestern salad with cod. The salad would have a rice base, tons of veggies, and lots of spices. Then I opened up the freezer and couldn’t find the cod. There’s a point when digging through the freezer is a lost cause. How about when a box of frozen food slides out and nearly lands on your toe? Yes, I think that’s a good time to stop. So I grabbed shrimp instead, which was right up front.

At this point, my meal was still on its way to being a salad. Then came the tomatoes. Fresh tomatoes were nowhere to be found in the fridge, so I grabbed canned tomatoes from the pantry and poured them in the pot. I had briefly considered draining them, but then, with the recklessness of a scientist gone mad with experimentation, I poured it all in.

Ingredients went in the pot as soon as they were ready, first sautéing, then simmering, until everything but the avocados was in the mix. Those went in right before serving, adding stunning bright green against a deep red backdrop. “What part of the world would I be eating this in?” my brother asked as we sat down for dinner. I took a sip. The broth tasted of tomatoes, chili powder, and lime. The rice and red broth made it look like jambalaya, but the taste was closer to tortilla soup. “Mexico,” I replied.

In the end, it seemed, I still had my Southwestern dish full of veggies and rice, just in another format than I expected. My appreciation for this soup, something I may have been hesitant to try as a third grader, is the result of years of changing tastes. That’s what I realized this weekend about those journals: I was practically a different person in each one. I may identify with my third grade self’s preference for the outdoors, but of course I can never be that person again. And I’m glad, because life needs to be about more than just what is in your backyard.

Unexpected Soup
Adapted from Cooking Light

1 ½ cups cooked rice
1 tablespoon olive oil
½ red onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 bundle green onions, diced
1 zucchini, diced
1 bell pepper, diced
1 28 oz. can tomatoes
1 lb cooked shrimp
1 teaspoon oregano
½ teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon chili powder
¼ teaspoon paprika
Black pepper, to taste
1 cup chopped cilantro leaves
1 teaspoon lime juice
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 avocado, diced

1. In a large pot, heat olive oil over medium low. Add onions and garlic and sauté five minutes, stirring often.
2. Add green onions and zucchini; sauté five minutes.
3. Add bell pepper and tomatoes. Let simmer five minutes.
4. Add shrimp, rice, spices, cilantro, and  juices, and let simmer until shrimp and soup are heated through, about 10 minutes.
5. Stir in avocado just before serving.

The house of what’s up

I know I just wrote about burritos, but the truth is, I love them. So you’ll probably hear a lot about one of my favorite dishes, and my near-constant search for different fillings and varieties. My trip to Casa Que Pasa, a little restaurant in Bellingham, began with that search.

When we worked at the AS Review, Allison and I wrote a column called “Cooking on a College Budget.” And that, essentially, was exactly what we did. Every week we tried out recipes that fit the time and financial constraints of most college students. We promoted the benefits of eating fresh, healthy, home-cooked meals. But while tracking down the recipes wasn’t a problem, we thought there might be another way to serve college student’s cooking needs: why not go to local restaurants, pick out a popular dish and explain how to make it at home?

So that’s why, one Sunday evening, we sat at a table in Casa Que Pasa and ordered the famous (in Bellingham) potato burrito. I’d heard about this burrito practically from the moment I moved into town. It was delicious, like nothing else, an experience not soon forgotten. Or so people said.

The burrito looked promising from the moment it arrived at our table. First, it was huge. Second, it was bursting with great ingredients: refried beans, sour cream and Cheddar (though not enough, in my opinion). And, of course, potatoes. This is where things got complicated. The potatoes were crunchy, but not in a pleasant way; in fact, they tasted burned. Only one tiny piece of potato, almost lost in the center of the burrito, had been spared from being overcooked. Had we gotten a bad batch of potatoes? Or were they always this way?

I conferred with a fellow burrito eater, and he said that the potatoes are always that way, which led Allison and I to recommend microwaving the potato wedges so they remain soft (or bake them, for some crispiness, if you have time).  Other than that, making this burrito requires a simple method of fill ‘n roll. Refried beans, black beans, cheese, potatoes, chili powder and anything else you can stuff into the largest tortilla you can find–a delicious way to cook, even when you’ve left college far behind.