Marry Me Food
Will you commit?
This week is my 36th wedding anniversary. A long time to live with someone & cook for, or with, them. We’ve always had the double whammy of our celebration, preceded by Valentine’s Day—our date chosen quite independently of the larger day of love. But they are irrevocably tied together (along with President’s Day).
In the continuing spirit of love, I thought I’d mention noticing over the past few years recipes tagged with the moniker “marry me food.” The first time I saw reference to Marry Me chicken…then Marry Me chicken noodle soup & Marry Me ramen, I laughed. My mom always said my dad married her because of her pot roast. There appears to be a theme for Marry Me food—it has the soft halo of comfort, nothing fancy, reminders of grandma cooking (if your grandma cooked). Though comfort is defined by what is familiar to you—chef José Andrés says his wife’s gazpacho was why he proposed.
I know my cooking for wannabe loves was influenced by my mother’s picnics in the 1970s. Ever the acolyte of food fashion, we hauled coolers into the woods of the Pacific Northwest and mountains of southern Arizona, filled with roast game hens and chilled cucumber soup. She loved those small birds, considered a bit exotic even though they are just a variety of broiler chicken bred to be served young (what the French call poussin.) Cold game hens scented with sage & pulled apart with our fingers, were just as wonderful as fried chicken. Sipping cucumber soup from thermos cups was pretty good too.
Inspired (and admiring of) the ease of those picnics, I adopted game hens as the center of my date night menus for new boyfriends. But not before experimenting till I hit on the right formula. Cooking for the ones I didn’t marry included an artichoke soufflé (straight out of Gourmet magazine, for a college professor I shouldn’t have been dating), a steamed whole trout with sizzling ginger & slivered scallions (for a guy who worked for the Bureau of Land Management in Colorado), and those vegetarian meze I’ve mentioned before for that vegan boyfriend I still thank for instilling my love for Middle Eastern food.
In the end, those roast game hens made the final cut. I think because it’s sort of ice breaker food—feeling comfortable enough with someone to eat in an uninhibited, casual way. My recollection is also making a baked rice casserole (which could cook in the oven with the birds) and probably a salad (I can’t clearly recall this part of the trinity meal, maybe because it changed to suit my guest) rounded out the menu. The way I roast game hens changes—sometimes it’s just a buttery bath with herbs or a tangy-sweet glaze (orange marmalade or apricot jam seem to join the party a lot). Now I always make a wild rice pilaf because my final love (and I) really like it. So here’s a recipe you can try out, squeezing that citrus that’s most likely in your fruit bowl. Last night I also roasted some pears with the birds—really great with the glaze & can partner with baby kale or chopped curly endive for a warm salad. Don’t forget lots of napkins for eating the birds with your fingers! Oh, and I’ve added a barley-wild rice casserole that you could easily manage if you make game hens for a dinner party.
MAPLE TANGERINE GLAZED GAME HENS
Makes 2 to 4 servings
I always struggle with knowing who can eat a whole game hen (they’re usually about 1-1/2 lbs. each—with lots of bones). So I just count on one bird per person, with the thought there might be leftovers. I’m calling for my favorite tangerines to anchor a glaze, but blood oranges or Cara Cara oranges would be just as delicious. I sometimes put a wedge or two of citrus inside the game hens before roasting—and often will quarter a couple of Bosc pears, along with red onion wedges, and pop them in the oven (pour a little glaze over them with some good olive oil) with the birds. A salad of bitter winter greens would contrast well with the sweet citrus.
INGREDIENTS
2 to 3 (24 oz. each) game hens
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons crushed dried rosemary or poultry seasoning
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
1 cup fresh tangerine juice (3 to 4 tangerines)
1/2 cup real maple syrup
2 teaspoons whole-grain mustard
2 teaspoons grated tangerine zest
Fresh sage or rosemary sprigs, if you can get some
DIRECTIONS
1. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a large roasting pan with foil. Tie game hen legs together and tuck the wings under. Arrange the hens in the pan; lightly rub with 2 tablespoons oil and season with rosemary or poultry seasoning, salt, and pepper.
2. Place hens in the oven; roast 45 minutes. Meanwhile, heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onions; cook and stir 6 to 8 minutes or until golden and tender, season with a little salt and pepper.
3. Stir in the juice, maple syrup, mustard, and zest. Bring to a boil; cook uncovered about 10 minutes or until slightly thickened. Pour half of the glaze into a small bowl for serving; set the remainder aside to brush on the birds as they roast.
4. Roast hens for about 50 minutes, brushing with glaze during the last 20 minutes of roasting (every 5 to 10 minutes), until chicken reaches an internal temperature of 165°F in thighs and juices run clear. Serve with the reserved glaze, garnished with fresh herbs.
FOREST FEAST HOT DISH with FRIZZLED ONIONS
Serves 8
This recipe is from a book I co-authored a few years ago, Untamed Mushrooms: From Field to Table. All about foraging & cooking wild mushrooms in the Midwest, I developed recipes that were seasonal and featured local ingredients. Barley is a highly underrated grain but is important in immigrant cuisines that often pair it up with mushrooms. And wild rice? I’ve always thought of it as the closest thing to a standard bearer for an iconic upper Midwestern food. I’ve carried it abroad as a regional gift to loads of friends—and found an enthusiastic audience for it in other rice-loving places like northern Italy and Japan. It’s actually a wild grass, traditionally hand-harvested and wood fire-parched by Native Americans. It’s now farmed in Minnesota & California, but if you can get your hands on the hand harvested stuff it’s worth the high price.
INGREDIENTS
1 cup uncooked pearl barley
1 cup uncooked wild rice, hand harvested if you can get some
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
8 slices thick-sliced hickory smoked bacon, chopped
2 large leeks, halved lengthwise, rinsed well, and sliced crosswise
1-1/4 lbs. mixture of chicken of the woods, hen of the woods, king bolete and/or chanterelle mushrooms, trimmed and sliced or torn
1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage leaves
2 teaspoons lightly chopped fresh thyme leaves
1-1/2 cups (6 ounces) shredded fontina or smoked gouda cheese
Sprigs of fresh sage and thyme, for a pretty finish
DIRECTIONS
1. Mix the barley and wild rice in a large saucepan; cover with water and add a good teaspoon of salt. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and partially cover. Cook for about 45 minutes or until tender; drain any excess water. Spoon into a large bowl.
2. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion; sauté, stirring frequently, until golden and crisp. Remove to a paper towel-lined plate; set aside.
3. Heat the oven to 375˚F. Lightly grease a 3-quart ceramic baking dish. Cook the bacon over medium-high heat until crisp; remove the bacon with a slotted spoon, leaving the fat in the skillet. Add the bacon pieces to the cooked grains.
4. Add the leeks and mushrooms to the bacon fat; sauté for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring frequently, until tender. Scrape into the bowl with the grain mixture. Stir in the fresh herbs and cheese. Season with a little more salt and lots of ground pepper.
5. Spoon into the prepared baking dish; cover with foil. Place in the oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until hot and the cheese is melted. Serve topped with the frizzled onions and sprigs of sage and thyme.
I so get that--sometimes the busy-ness of life just sucks the pleasure out of slowing down and enjoying chopping onions (my personal check out time at the end of a long day.) Trying out new recipes is a luxury that can revive the enthusiasm around feeding ourselves well. Especially right now, when creating our own comfort is important!
Fantastic--I think you'll like it. You're fortunate to live in a more temperate climate, so you can get foraged wild mushrooms much earlier than I will. Happy cooking!