Pastel de Requesón… and Sideways Lasagna

The Hearth for Friday, January 3, 2025

WHEN RECIPES GO SIDEWAYS

It feels a little bit like a train crash when it happens. You’ve bought all your ingredients, you’ve done your prep, you’re marinated, you’re mise-en-placed, and then you have the realization: this thing isn’t going to work. The only question is whether you’ll be able to retrieve some edible leftovers from the wreckage, or if you’ll be battling a kitchen fire and considering a new line of work.

I was drawn to a recipe for deep-fried Cornish game hens because it seemed like a festive and goofy way to tap into a holiday ingredient. But upon hitting the market it became clear that Cornish game hens are sort of a pre-Christmas thing (forcing me to buy a considerably bigger whole chicken) and that the recipe, as written, was a much clumsier and less promising version of the buttermilk fried chicken recipe I’ve executed a hundred times at least and can basically do in my sleep. 

The ingredients were awkward (lots of pre-batched spice mixes, which I don’t generally like), the quantities were absurd (three quarts of buttermilk is enough to feed an army), and the method was absurd (marinating a chicken or Cornish game hen in buttermilk with chopped onions and lots of spices was going to lead to the spices doing nearly nothing and the chopped onions doing absolutely nothing.)

But all of these realizations stacked up on me slowly, as I worked, as I measured, as I prepped. And then: I was strapped in. The oil was ready, the chicken had marinated. There was nothing left to do but roll the whole chicken in seasoned flour (seasoned, at this point, pretty much completely seat-of-the-pants for lack of any faith in the recipe as written), drop it into hot oil, and hope that I eyeballed the quantities correctly.

“After all,” I thought, “what’s the worst thing that can happen if I plunge a huge, buttermilk-soaked bird into an insufficiently large container of hot oil?”

Pretty quickly the “This is fine” dog leapt into my mind’s eye, and I put the chicken down. Right. Time for Plan B: a quick spatchcock and chicken disassembly. Ugly, poorly accomplished, but ultimately successful. Now I had about 12 pieces of chicken (three hearty but manageable batches) to fry up, something I did in about half an hour.

James Norton / Heavy Table

What did I accomplish? I made a mediocre homemade dinner for my family. I discovered that I really disliked a particular recipe. (I won’t link out to it, because I don’t think I did it justice with the chicken for game hen substitution… and also because I don’t like the recipe.) And I learned that even though I read, cook, and write about cooking for a living, I am definitely a human being capable of hubris and error. 

I probably should have already known that. – James Norton

A SHORT NOTE ON CO-OP OWNERSHIP

I’ve been a coop owner for more years than I’ve been a dad (more than a decade at this point… eep!) It was one of the first things I did that tethered me to Minneapolis after moving here in the aughts, and it was a commitment to one of the things that makes this part of the world so freakin’ special: they’re a lively, thriving, interconnected world of local food markets that are owned by and answerable to their own owner-customers, purveyors, and communities.  

If you haven’t joined a coop yet, there are plenty to choose from and the new year is a great time to take the plunge. If you live in Northeast Minneapolis or get up to the neighborhood with any regularity, consider Eastside Food Co-op. We can vouch for it being a hell of a store, and their support has helped Heavy Table sustain its commitment to maintain and grow our special brand of locavore culinary journalism. – James Norton

Eastside is your cooperatively owned grocery store in the heart of Northeast since 2003. We specialize in fresh, local, and organic foods sourced from farmers and producers who care about the health of people and our planet. Eastside Food Co-op is here for good!

… AND WHEN LASAGNA GOES SIDEWAYS
Homemade pasta and a different angle on Florentine lasagna
By Brenda Johnson

Brenda Johnson / Heavy Table

Growing up, it was a tradition to make pasta with my parents on New Year's Day. I have memories of noodles hanging and resting on every surface in our kitchen and dining room. When I started my own family, this tradition was put by the wayside since my son was born with a gluten allergy. I’ve cooked very little pasta in my own kitchen over the last 20 years but kids grow and move away, which has allowed me to revisit making pasta from scratch. My family recipe is simply whatever flour you have in the house, eggs and salt … with a little water as needed.

3 cups flour
3 large eggs + 2 egg yolks
1 tsp table salt (less if using sea salt)
Water as needed

Brenda Johnson / Heavy Table

Make a well in the flour on your working surface, add the eggs and salt to the well. Scramble eggs well before gradually mixing in the flour. Use a scraper to get the bits off your hands and your work surface if needed. Knead until the gluten is activated and the dough is springy. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and let rest for about 30 minutes. 

During the pandemic I read a lot of magazines and remember reading an article about preparing/serving lasagna vertically. I have no idea which foodie publication … but I’m a food photographer and the images accompanying the article are branded in my mind. The photo of the plated dish was lovely. The following is a recipe based on what I remember reading/seeing in my mind … it’s hard to screw up lasagne, right?

Brenda Johnson / Heavy Table

We started with making the pasta sheets. Since this “sideways” lasagna is formed in a 9" x 5" loaf pan, we needed 2 noodle sheets, approximately 5" x 30". My partner is an engineer … he did the math.