'Clam' Chowder, or, A Disaster Story

In the interest of making all the recipes in the box, I often stumble across dumb ones that were culled from magazines, newspapers, or ads. This is one of those recipes-- it's really just 'make a can of soup, and serve with a pat of butter.' But clam chowder is hard-ish to find here in Scotland, and I've always wanted to try making it myself.

So I figured one night for dinner last week that we'd give it a try. I once watched my mother-in-law made clam chowder and it seemed pretty easy, so I thought Judson and I could surely handle it, with the help of some internet resources for inspiration.

Here is something I didn't count on: the fishmonger, when I dropped by to buy fresh clams, told me he had no clams because, and I quote, 'the water around Scotland doesn't get cold enough for clams.'

I wish I had an image of the deadpan face I gave him when he said that because I really thought he was joking and if you don't understand why, you've clearly never been to a Scottish beach (where the water never gets above 50F/10C). But evidently it's true, and the balmy waters of Scotland are not home to many clams. Armed with this knowledge, I headed to Tesco where I planned to buy jarred clams, which I assumed would work just as well. But when I got to Tesco, I could only find jarred cockles. 'That's fine,' I thought to myself. 'We'll just have cockle chowder! I'll invent this new dish and before you know it, people the world over will be ordering it in restaurants near and far! How different could a cockle possibly taste from a clam?'

Very is the answer to that question... if the cockles happen to be pickled.

To redeem myself for the horrors of this recipe, here's a picture of the new hand-carved white pine spoon I bought to scoop salt with.

I assumed naively that the cockles would be brined in saltwater, but it turned out they were pickled in some kind of vinegar (the internet recommends making pickled cockles in malt vinegar, so maybe that's what it was?). Not only did they taste exclusively of pickle, but they definitively did not match the creamy potato chowder I had prepared for them.

Don't get me wrong, we proceeded anyway (partly because we had no other dinner food in the house; partly because I felt that I couldn't give up). I hoped some of the pickle flavour would soak out in the soup and be absorbed by the potatoes, but it did not. As an additional slap in the face, it turns out that cockles are just a type of saltwater clam (not the coquinas I thought they were). We still haven't determined what pickled cockles are supposed to be used for, and so far all of my Googling has produced only recipes for making your own pickled cockles, no recipes for things to put them into.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. Might I go ahead and recommend that you don't make this soup? However, if you're so inclined, next time you make an actual clam chowder, top each serving with a wee pat of butter. It makes the soup extra creamy and flavourful and even more perfect for sopping up the last drops with a crusty baguette.

The recipe:

Pickled Cockle Chowder

the directions:

Rinse the cockles well in cold water.
Prepare the clam chowder as directed, except swap pickled cockles for clams.
Serve with a pat of butter on each bowl, and don't expect anyone to finish ask for seconds.

the ingredients:

Your favourite clam chowder recipe
2 jars of pickled cockles

Baked Noodles Romanoff

Eleanor, as we've discussed, was Polish by heritage, if not by birth. As a first-generation American, though, I'm sure her childhood meals were mostly comprised of Polish-type foods. I'm especially sure of this, because even my childhood meals often included slightly Polish foods: I was the only person in my first-grade class to have ever even heard of a pierogi, and I remember eating potato pancakes fairly frequently as a kid, too.* And every year until she died, Eleanor and her friends made sauerbraten and potato dumpling, curing the meat for days before inviting all of their friends over for a massive feast.

So when I found the recipe for Baked Noodles Romanoff in the box, I wasn't surprised-- it sounds like a Polish dish (creamy noodles with bread crumbs? Duh.) and even the name sounds pretty Eastern European (although I assumed it was based on the Russian Romanovs-- of Anastasia fame-- which is most decidedly is not). In fact, for awhile I even thought it was just going to be a savoury kugel (a Jewish dish made with egg noodles, a custard-y base, and garnished as you like), but then I realised that kugels containing cottage cheese are probably pretty rare.

So, you ask: if it's not a kugel, then what is it? In short, Noodles Romanoff is basically a cross between a kugel and a meatless stroganoff. It's insanely easy, super comforting on a rainy autumn night, and, though it was delicious on the night we made it, it was even better tonight, topped with a soft-boiled egg and a ton of red pepper. It's sort of like a fancy man's 'refrigerator pasta,' where you just use up whatever is in your fridge about to go bad and mix up a bowl of pasta to go with it, but it's way more delicious. It may not be healthy, but with a sauce made of cottage cheese, it's still not as bad as a cream-based pasta dish could be.

I looked it up to see if this was a common dish in Poland or otherwise, and I was surprised to learn that it was a pretty popular meal in the mid-20th century. So popular, in fact, that almost the only reference to it that I can find on the internet is a reference to Betty Crocker's boxed Noodles Romanoff mix. (This is all news to me; I just assumed that, much like Pollo Alla Verona, this recipe was just kind of a made-up one). So if you remember days of eating Noodles Romanoff from a box, or even if you don't, try this dish. It's easy, it's delicious, and you get to mix up a bunch of spices like a mad scientist, so you know it's gonna be fun.

Smooth cottage cheese is strange and pretty.

*I kind of forgot about pierogis, until we moved to Edinburgh, where there's a strangely high proportion of Polish grocery stores that sell the best pickles I've ever tasted and all the possible types of pierogis you can imagine. Also, Judson's Polish hairdressed introduced him to Polish vodka shortly after we moved here, and our lives (not to mention our Moscow Mules) haven't been the same since.

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. This was really good, but the leftovers kind of required the egg to make it moist enough to enjoy for a second time. However, it's one of those 'set it and forget it' meals, where you can put it in the oven, wash all the dishes you dirtied, and finish just in time to eat it in your sparkling clean kitchen. It's definitely worth making, and who knows-- your version might even beat out Betty Crocker's!

The recipe:

Baked Noodles Romanoff

The directions:

Cook noodles according to directions on package.
Meanwhile, preheat oven to 176C/350F and grease a casserole dish or deep-dish pie pan.
Mix together bread crumbs, spices, and parsley, then set aside.
Drain noodles and combine with cottage cheese, sour cream, and parmesan.
Pour mixture into prepared casserole and top with prepared bread crumbs.
Bake 20-25 minutes, until golden brown and delicious.

the ingredients:

8 oz. egg noodles
8 oz cottage cheese, beaten or whizzed in the food processor until smooth
8 oz sour cream
½ c parmesan, grated
½ c bread crumbs
1 tsp parsley
Spices of your choice

Spices I used:

Oregano
Marjoram
Dill
Smoked Salt
Pepper
Smoked Paprika
Onion Powder
Garlic Powder
You don't need all of them, just whatever you want to use!

Venison Stew

The first time I ever had venison was when a German friend of my mom's made roast venison and gave a huge portion to my mom... who then lied to me and told me it was roast beef to convince me to eat it. I always thought it was hilarious that she felt the need to lie about it, because it didn't even faze me: that deer was delicious. But then I went another decade without having venison again until I moved to Scotland, where it's as ubiquitous on most restaurant menus as pork. Here in Scotland, venison is everywhere: in pies, soups, casseroles, and served by itself. But despite the fact that I have eaten it a few times a year ever since moving here, I had still never cooked it until I stumbled upon this recipe (which can easily be made with beef, if you're wondering). Although I can't imagine Eleanor making this recipe with venison (where would you get venison in Central Florida?), I could totally see her making it with beef. It's got a great old-fashioned sounding list of ingredients, with mostly traditional herbs and spices and a few odd ones thrown in (looking at you, paprika and cranberries), and it totally seems like the kind of thing you'd expect your grandparents to serve you when you come over for a visit.

You didn't believe me about the ron swanson thing, did you?

I've been excited about making this recipe ever since I first spotted it in the box. It's a recipe from a 1977 issue of Better Homes & Gardens, and, as an avid soup lover, I was stoked. I saved it for the first day of fall, so I could post it in honour of the changing of the seasons and the fact that soup weather is finally on the way!

I mean, Better Homes & Gardens vets their recipes, right?

And this one is from a NASA chef who planned the meals that went into space, so you'd really think he knew what he was doing, right?*

And said chef looks just like Ron Swanson, which has to be a good thing when it comes to meat, right?

And the recipe is based on a 'colonial kitchen' classic in honour of the American Bicentennial, so... really, you'd think it would be good, right?

RIGHT??

I had high hopes for this: I love the way soup makes the whole house smell great, I love having easily-frozen leftovers that can be re-heated on cold autumn nights. But here is the thing about writing a cooking blog: it throws a lot of curveballs your way, and this recipe was one of them.

First of all, the quantity of water listed in the recipe was drastically incorrect. The liquid, which you're supposed to be able to use to make a venison broth, boiled off completely in less than half of the time it was supposed to simmer, so the meat burned to a char and nearly caught our kitchen on fire. As it was, the kitchen reeked for a full three days after we made this.

But, having no choice but to continue, I removed the charred pieces from the meat and continued with the recipe.

Enter disaster number 2: the cranberries.** In the image that accompanied this recipe in BH&G, there are clearly cranberries floating in the bowl of soup. But as soon as my cranberries heated up, they burst and then completely dissolved. Which would have been fine, except have you ever tasted a cranberry? They're hella bitter, and the 2 tbsp of sugar that the recipe calls for was nowhere near enough to overcome this. I ended up doubling the sugar and easily could have doubled it again to try to cover up the bitterness that ran through every drop of the soup because of how the cranberries dissolved.

Oh yeah, the original also called for 'julienned matchstick celery.' So there's that.

But hear me out: these two things are fixable. And in the recipe below, I've fixed them. So the soup, made according to the below, is delicious, and totally worth it. So the next time an autumn rainstorm blows into town and you just want to snuggle up with a blanket and a bowl of soup, consider this one. It's hearty and filling without leaving you feeling like a bag of wet cement (like potato soup always does), and, if you make it as per the below, your house will smell awesome. Plus, if you have a loved one who is anything like mine, this soup is a sure way to their heart.

*This recipe is also from a regular BH&G feature from the 1970s called 'He Cooks,' which featured only 'masculine' recipes that 'men like to cook.'

**The most heartbreaking part of the cranberries going awry is that I used cranberries from my stash to make this! Cranberries are pretty hard to find here in Scotland, so every winter I buy as many bags as I can convince Judson to allow me and freeze them for year-round baking. And I wasted a whole cup of my stash on what turned out to be a veritable disaster.

The verdict:

2 spoons as written in BH&G. But as noted below, 4 spoons. Make this soup and enjoy autumn!

The recipe:

Venison Stew

the directions:

Combine 4 ½ c water and venison, salt, and pepper in a large pot.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer.
Cover and cook for 30 minutes or slightly longer if venison is not yet cooked through.
Stir in wine, carrots, potato, cranberries (and sugar, if using fresh ones), onion, celery, garlic, worcestershire, paprika, juniper berries, cloves, and bay leaf.
Cover and let simmer for 30 minutes, then check to see if vegetables are tender.
If not, continue to cook for another 15 minutes, checking frequently.
Once vegetables are done, stir remaining ½ c water into the flour briskly until no lumps remain.
Pour this mixture into the soup to help thicken it.
Place a heaping spoonful of rice in the bottom of each soup bowl and top with the soup.

Yields approximately 4 servings, best enjoyed with a very cold beer.

the ingredients:

1 lb boneless venison or beef, cut into bite-sized cubes
5 c water, divided
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp pepper, ground coarsely
½ c red wine (a sweetish one, like Shiraz)
4 medium carrots, chunked
1 large potato, peeled and cubed
EITHER ½ c fresh cranberries and 4 tbsp brown sugar OR ½ c sweetened dried cranberries (like Craisins)
½ c onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp worcestershire sauce
1 ½ tsp paprika
3 juniper berries
2 whole cloves
1 bay leaf
½ c rye flour (I couldn't find this so I used whole wheat and it was fine)
Cooked wild rice