Smoky Chipotle Chili Corn Chowder Recipe

Sweet corn has already arrived in California supermarkets. Despite its good looks -- plump, creamy white kernels -- it needs a bit more time to develop its characteristic sweetness. It's ideal, however, for soups like this Smoky Chipotle Chili Corn Chowder, which I have already made twice in the last eight days.

This is a deliciously simple recipe: Within minutes, you'll be enjoying a bowl of rich, buttery corn chowder spiked with fiery chipotle chilis and bits of salty, smoky ham. It pairs particularly well with warm spiced tortillas or a thick slab of cornbread. For a vegetarian option, simply omit the ham, but keep the tortillas.


Smoky Chipotle Corn Chowder
Makes 4 servings.
Print recipe only here.

Chowder:
1 tablespoon butter
3 green onions, thinly sliced, plus extra for garnish
2 cups red bliss potatoes, peeled and chopped
2 cups vegetable broth
2 cups fresh corn kernels (2 medium ears) (or canned or frozen)
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons chipotle chilis in adobo sauce
2 cups milk (whole or low-fat)
1/4 cup Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped, plus extra for garnish
1/3 cup diced cooked ham (about 3 ounces)


In a deep pot over medium-high heat, melt butter. Saute green onions for 5 minutes, or until lightly browned. Add potatoes and broth, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low; add corn kernels, salt, and chipotle chilis, and stir well. Cook until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes. Add the milk, Monterey Jack cheese, and cilantro. Turn off heat and allow chowder to cool for 5-10 minutes.

Puree soup in two batches until smooth, and return to the pot over medium-low heat. Stir in cooked ham and warm until thoroughly heated. Taste it; adjust seasonings accordingly. Garnish each serving with some finely chopped cilantro and green onions.

Note: This soup tastes even better the next day. So it's a good meal to make over the weekend for a quick and easy mid-week dinner.

**Chipotle chilis in adobe sauce are available at Mexican specialty markets as well as in the Mexican section of most major supermarkets. If you can't find them, then substitute 2 tablespoons of chipotle chili powder and 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper. Taste and adjust accordingly.

You might also like:

New England Clam Chowder





African Sweet Potato and Peanut Soup





Sauteed Corn with Mint, Butter, and Lemon





More recipes for corn chowder:
Corn Chowder at One For the Table
Red Bell Corn Chowder at Rookie Cookie
Chicken Corn Chowder at melecotte

Football, Fish Tacos, and Clam Chowder: It's New England versus San Diego

Whaddle' it be?
New England?

Or San Diego?

OK ladies, read closely. This post will not only provide you with some good football grub, but it could also improve your relationship with your football-lovin' guy.

This Sunday the New England Patriots play the San Diego Chargers. You know I love football. You also know that since I'm from New England, I'm genetically programmed to be a Patriots fan. Having grown up a Pats fan and now living in San Diego, I couldn't resist writing this post.

Here is what you need to do, girls. Even if you hate football, watch the game this weekend, and focus on #12, the Patriots' quarterback, Tom "Terrific" Brady. If you know who Tom Brady is, then you understand. If you don't, read on. (Ugh! Jeff hacked my post and changed my Tom Brady link to his website!)

Tom Brady is a three time Superbowl Champion quarterback who works hard, doesn't talk trash, dates Gisele (the Victoria's Secret Brazilian supermodel) and has an adorable dimple in his chin. Oh, and was named best dressed man in the world.

He's the George Clooney of athletes. In fact, after Matt Damon was named "Sexiest Man Alive" by People magazine, he joked that it should have been Tom Brady. Sorry Matt, I agree with you.

Now, if you don't normally watch football, you gotta play it cool with your guy. If you tell him you're watching the game because you want to see Tom Brady, he'll get all defensive and start asking ridiculous things like: "What's so great about Tom Brady?"

So instead, memorize something like:
"I wanted to watch the game to see if the Chargers' banged up secondary can keep New England from airing it out to their wideouts and tight end."

Or:

"I wanted to watch the game to see if the Chargers can get the ground game going with an injured LT against the Patriots' outside linebackers."

It doesn't matter if you don't understand it. Your guy won't either, but he'll have to agree with you so that he doesn't look stupid.

Now that he is duped, get ready to feast your eyes on #12.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot the food. Here's some representative regional cuisine. Is there anything more quintessentially New England than New England Clam Chowdah? (Yes, that's how you should pronounce it.)

It's been years since I made or tasted clam chowder, and one mouthful brought me right back to blustery, grey winter days. (Rocky Point anyone?)


It never gets "blustery" in San Diego, so we'll have fish tacos here instead. Fish tacos are like Happy Meals for adults -- hot, crispy, salty, and spicy. They're ideal football food because you eat 'em with your hands and they're perfect with cold beer.

Now, won't that make your guy happy?

I've actually written an article about fish tacos for NPR's Kitchen Window. There, you'll find three fish taco recipes to choose from: traditional Baja-Style Fish Tacos, baked fish tacos with fresh green tomato salsa, and shrimp tacos with chipotle cream and charred poblano peppers.

Rather than rely on my memory for Rocky Point clam chowder, here is a recipe from last November's Cooking Light. The only change I made was substituting pancetta for bacon and stirring in 1 Tbsp of butter at the end.

You might also like this football friendly fare:
Patriots' Potato Pizza (yes, those Patriots)
Spinach, Nutmeg, and Ricotta Calzones
Turkey, Proscuitto, and Gorgonzola Sandwich

Elise also has a great football food post. Check out her chili round-up.

Who do you want to win? Chargers or Patriots?

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Red Lentil Soup and Rainy Days (Rainy Minutes Anyway)

One day last week I woke up with a dull ache in my knee. I turned to Jeff and said, “It’s going to rain today.” "Susan, it hasn’t rained here in like 235 days. It's not gonna rain today,” he replied. “My knee is aching," I said. "It’s gonna rain today."

I know almost every time it's going to rain. It's not superstition; it's knee surgery. Believe me when I tell you, my knee is as accurate in predicting rain as the Doppler 5000.

Later that morning we got into the car to go the the gym, and it happened. Rain.

I excitedly flipped on the windshield wipers -- I had purchased new ones the day before Easter and hadn't used them yet. Like two little kids, we were entranced by the blades slapping away the rain in efficient strokes. It was a satisfying a moment, really. Not five minutes later we were rudely interrupted by the vibrating, whooping sound of new wipers dragging across a dry windshield.

It’s hard to fathom how a place as lush with flora and vegetation as Southern California could be so dry. Incredibly, the average rainfall in San Diegois just 7 inches -- we used to get 7 inches on any given weekend in North Carolina.

While life without rain has its distinct advantages, sometimes I just long for a rainy day. We had some Ballykissangel to watch, some magazines to catch up on, and, of course, some soup to make. Because what’s a chilly, rainy day without a good bowl of steaming hot soup? The all too brief interlude of rain didn't deter us. We savored a few episodes of Ballykissangel, made it through at least a third of our magazine pile, and enjoyed some wholesome red lentil mulligatawny with apple-celery salsa.

The recipe is adapted from an original in Cooking Light. The zesty, crunchy apple-celery salsa contrasts pleasingly with the smooth, creamy lentils. I adjusted the soup by sauteing the onions for added depth and mixing in some extra seasonings--the cinnamon in particular lends a lovely sweet, aromatic touch. Made with creamy coconut milk, this is a warming, savory soup perfect for a rainy day. Or a chilly day. Or a windy day. Or a sunny day.


Red Lentil Mulligatawny with Apple-Celery Salsa
Print this recipe here.
Makes 2 bowls or 4 cups

Salsa:
½ cup finely chopped Granny Smith apple
¼ cup finely chopped celery
½ Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
½ Tbsp fresh lime juice

Soup:
2 tsp olive oil
¾ c chopped onion
1 ½ c water
¾ c red lentils
¾ cup light coconut milk
1 tsp fresh grated ginger
½ tsp ground cumin
¼ tsp turmeric
¼ tsp coriander
¼ tsp cayenne pepper
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp fresh lime juice
Salt, to taste

For salsa: Combine all ingredients; set aside.

For soup: Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onion; sauté until golden, about 3-5 minutes. Add lentils and water; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer 12-15 minutes or until lentils are tender. Pour half of the lentil mixture in a blender; let stand for 5 minutes (so the soup will cool and not cause the cover to pop off!) Pour pureed lentil mixture into a bowl, and repeat process with the remaining half of lentil mixture. Once the soup is blended, return to the pan; add coconut milk, ginger, cumin, turmeric, coriander, cayenne, and cinnamon; stir well. Cover and simmer for about 5-10 minutes or until thoroughly heated through. Remove from heat; stir in the lime juice and season with salt. Ladle soup into bowls and garnish with some salsa.

Here are some other rainy day foods you might like:

Italian Pignoli Cookies and Spiced Coffee
Nan’s Italian Lentil Soup
Butternut Squash Risotto with Toasted Walnuts and Blue Cheese

And here are a few more tasty dishes featuring red lentils:
Daily Unadventures in Cooking's Red Lentil and Yam Curry
Group Recipes' Everyday Red Lentil Dal
Habeas Brulee's Pasta with Red Lentils, Ginger, and Spinach

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Waffles, Coffee, and Lentil Soup

At 5' tall, my grandmother was a giant of a woman. She was a dominating figure in my life and my mother's life. We have loved her, and we have feared her. Throughout our lives, her cooking sustained us; and from her little kitchen with four pots, a couple of frying pans, and some wooden spoons, her food was always remarkably delicious.

Nan is 98 years old now and lives in the Alzheimer’s unit at Scalabrini nursing home in Rhode Island. She doesn’t remember much any more. She doesn’t remember me. She usually forgets my mother, who visits her every day. When I saw Nan last month for Christmas, I tried to prompt her. “Nan, remember me? Your granddaughter? Susan?” Nothing.

On the last day that Jeff and I lived in Rhode Island before moving to North Carolina, we slept over Nan's house, with a full U-haul truck parked in the driveway. When we awoke, it was raining as hard as I can ever remember. It was January 1997. My grandmother, a notorious late sleeper, got up at 4:00 am that bitter cold morning and made us breakfast. We woke to the warm, sweet smell of waffles from her vintage waffle iron and to the gurgling sound of her electric coffee percolator. They were the best tasting waffles I had ever had and have had since that day.

I provoked her again: “Remember me Nan? I’m your granddaughter, Susan. I’m married to Jeff" (she loves Jeff). Still nothing. “Remember when you made us waffles?” “Waffles?” she answered. “Yeah, that rainy morning.” Her eyes lit up. “Oooh, yeah,” she said. “I made you waffles.” Tears were welling up in my eyes. “Waffles and coffee, huh?” she added. “Yeah, Nan, waffles and coffee,” I repeated. “I was a good cook, huh?” she asked me. Tears were just flowing now. “Yeah Nan, you were a good cook.”

I made Nan's lentil soup last night because we were missing her, our families, and Rhode Island. Whenever we feel this way, we try to make some type of Italian comfort food that our mothers and grandmothers used to make for us. Somehow, it always transports us, albeit briefly, back home.

I don’t know if this recipe is exactly like Nan’s, but she probably wouldn’t either. That’s because she never used a recipe. Ever. I have inherited that from her; I often don’t measure, and I rarely follow a recipe exactly (which is why you never want to come over my house for souffle).

Nan's Italian Lentil Soup
Makes 4 servings.
Print recipe only here.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, diced
2 celery stalks, diced
2 carrots, diced
1/2 cup lentils, brown or black*
2 bay leaves
4-5 cups water (depending on your desired soupiness)
1 8-oz can tomato sauce or diced tomatoes with juice
A good shake of red pepper flakes
Salt, to taste
About 2 Tbsp of chopped fresh basil
About 2 Tbsp of chopped fresh parsley
Some good Reggiano-Parmigiano and quality extra virgin olive oil

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion; sauté until golden. Add celery and carrots; cook 3-5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add lentils, bay leaves, and water; bring to a slow rolling boil for 15-20 minutes or until lentils are tender. If the lentils are absorbing too much of the liquid, then simply add more water. Once they are just about done, lower the heat to a simmer, and stir in the tomato sauce, red pepper flakes, and salt.

Remove the pan from the heat. And remove the bay leaves before serving! Add the fresh herbs now so they will retain their bright green color and fresh flavor. Top with lots of good grated cheese, and drizzle some quality extra virgin olive oil on top.

*TIP: I love Trader Joe’s black lentils. They have an earthier flavor and don’t break down as easily as brown lentils. They also create a thicker soup perfect for clinging to a nice piece of crusty Italian bread. Mmm.

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Snowflakes in Southern California

Jeff and I go to the gym early every morning. Since it’s still dark out when we leave, it’s been pretty chilly lately. This morning when I turned the key in the ignition, the dashboard starting flashing. It also began to beep—a subtle bing, like the musical “fasten your seatbelt” bing that you hear on airplanes. “Great,” I sighed, “something else is broken.” Jeff, never one to presume the worst, leaned over, looked intently at the dashboard, and said matter-of-factly, “Nothing’s broken.” “It’s not?” “No. It’s just a snowflake,” he said. “What’s just a snowflake?” I asked. “On the dashboard. Look at the temperature,” he said. It read 39 degrees. And there it was—a cute little snowflake. Apparently Volkswagen was thoughtful enough to alert its drivers when it’s cold outside. Having driven the car only in Southern California, we had never seen it before. If this keeps up, I’m gonna have to ask my mom to let me borrow some of those gloves and scarves I gave to her when we moved here.

Speaking of my mom, when I was growing up, I don’t think I went a week during the winter without eating a hot, delicious bowl of her escarole and beans. It was a classic Friday night quick dinner typically served with crusty Italian bread. No matter how often I ate it, I never, ever tired of it. It’s one of the dishes that Jeff and I crave when we’re feeling blue for home or feeling chilled, like we do today. When you eat it, it makes you feel warm and comfortable.

I have absolutely no proof that Progresso cannelini beans will make this dish taste better, but my mom used them, so I use them, and so should you. They really are extra creamy and tasty. Plus, I like the picture of the can. I usually make a big batch of this; it’s one of the few foods I love as a leftover.

Mom's Italian Escarole and Bean Soup
Print recipe only here.

2 Tbsp olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 large head of escarole, chopped (about 10-12 cups)
1 15-ounce can of cannelini beans (rinsed)
1 15-ounce can of crushed tomatoes (or more if you’d like it soupier)
Lots of crushed red pepper flakes
Salt, to taste
Lots of good grated Reggiano Parmigiano cheese (preferably from Dad)

Heat oil in a large skillet. Add garlic and sauté 1-2 minutes. Add chopped escarole, and toss occasionally, about 4-5 minutes, until it wilts. Add beans, crushed tomatoes, red pepper flakes, and salt. Heat through for 2-3 minutes more. Remove from heat; (this will help the escarole stay bright green).

Top with grated cheese before serving.