My winter obsession with cooking dishes that have some heat to them continues with this post of a Chipotle Chicken Pasta Casserole courtesy of Pati Jinich. A short while ago I tweeted Ms. Jinich for any ideas on what to make with chipotles in adobo sauce and she came up with a trio of dishes – for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The Senor Breakfast sandwich was an instant success (and I’ve made it a few times since then). Her recommendation for lunch was this Chipotle Chicken Pasta Casserole, recipe here. 

It’s a little more involved than I’m accustomed to making, but Ms. Jinich makes it doable and user-friendly enough even for someone like me. It begins with tomatoes and onion, which get cooked and blended with chipotles and adobo sauce to form a pungent sauce. Chicken thighs get browned in oil, then the dry pasta itself gets fried – an interesting twist that lends color and flavor and a delicious toasty smell to the proceedings. 

Once fried, the pasta then cooks in the sauce and some additional chicken broth, at the end of which it becomes a perfectly-rendered consistency and firmness. The chicken gets nestled back into the casserole dish, your choice of cheeses is added to the top, and it goes into the oven to slightly solidify. 

After it’s cooled for a bit, the all-important garnishes come into play – in this case some avocado slices, sour cream, and cilantro leaves for color. This casserole is so full of flavor, however, you need not indulge in anything other than the basic ingredients – they come together that beautifully. 

Many thanks to Ms. Jinich for pointing me in the direction of all these chipotle recipes. If I’m feeling especially brave, I may have to give her dinner recommendation a whirl: Honey Chipotle Ribs. 

As for this casserole, it’s perfect for a cold winter day, hearty and scrumptious and rich. Confession: I ate it for lunch, then dinner, and then again for breakfast the next morning. It’s that good. 

When I was a kid, our family always went to the Ko’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and everyone would come to our house for New Year’s Day. It was an odd holiday – sort of a throwaway day that fell at the end of Christmas break – but my family hosted it religiously, and my Mom’s side always attended no matter how rough the weather. At those New Year’s gatherings, at least in the first few years that I remember, there was always some sort of sterno or fondue dish that required heating to keep it warm. We’d eat whatever good thing was in it using cocktail toothpicks, assembling a little collection of goodies on small paper plates and square cocktail napkins, the kind that didn’t absorb anything and were just thin paper underneath it all. While the food was good, it was the precious serving process that appealed to me, and that retro throwback of the chafing dish.

In recent years, I’ve started a new tradition around New Year’s involving fondue. It’s returned in some fashionable circles, and when done properly it’s a delicious hoot – perfect for small parties when you want something to do prior to dinner. Suzie and her family joined us for fondue the other day; we’d recently returned their fondue pot (a wedding gift that Suzie had loaned to us and never bothered picking up again) since Andy got me an electric one for Christmas. It worked like a charm, heating up almost instantly, then keeping things at the proper temperature throughout the evening.

I made a simple cheese fondue – lots of gruyere and swiss cheese – both freshly grated by my own hands, thank you very much – along with a Pinot Grigio. Any good dry white will work – though I was warned to stay away from Chardonnay as that overpowers the cheese. I rubbed the inside of the fondue pot with a clove of garlic, added a few teaspoons of corn starch to the cheese, and once the wine was bubbling slowly stirred it all together. It coalesced beautifully, and in quick fashion. I added a couple tablespoons of kirsch and it was complete.

The kids wanted it to be chocolate, but we’re not there yet. Baby steps.

The less said about this cold snap, the better. 

The less said about this wind, the better.

The less said about the early days of this winter, the better.

Instead, I’ll focus on what we do when the world turns too cold to enter. In my case, it was a day of cooking and lounging, with quick excursions just to pick up some fresh mint and bread. One of the best meals I’ve found for a cold day is the shakshuka you see being assembled here. I’ve already extolled its virtues here, so I won’t repeat what a treat it is, but I’ll reiterate what a simple but powerful dish this is. The smoky spices lend an added heat to the proceedings, which is perfect for such a frigid day. 

To counterbalance this, and the early staleness of a winter that’s only just begun, there is a plentiful heaping of fresh herbs, including that aforementioned mint. Coupled with cilantro and parsley, it’s a bold bit of green freshness that proves itself more important than just a pretty topping. That’s something I’ve only learned in the last year or two. I used to think of fresh herbs and dollops of sour cream as rather precious and ultimately unnecessary accoutrements; in fact, they are integral to most dishes. Forget that sprig of parsley that we were raised on in American restaurants. This is so much more. 

So much of cooking is in the details, and I’m just beginning to learn that. Luckily, it’s never too late to get better at something, and to better yourself. So I chop up my herbs, I sprinkle my salt flowers, and I toast the bread, brush it with olive oil, and toast it slightly again. There’s nothing precious about it when the results taste so good. On a winter day, there’s a beauty to all of that. 

Outside, the wind raged. The snow drifted in cruel and vicious fashion. Inside, the oven glowed. When the eggs were finished I left the oven door open to seep into the rest of the house. It was a cozy day.