la petite gourmande

Onwards... to Wordpress!

2011-12-13T13:14:00.001-05:00

Broken picture links, weird headers... gah.

Onwards... to Wordpress!

2010-06-24T09:44:00.000-04:00

When Gourmet magazine went under and I was stuck with two extra years of Bon Appetit, I will admit- I was pissed. And I know I am not the only one. I liked Gourmet's vintage cocktail recipes and food politics pieces; what I do NOT need is yet another recipe for homemade granola. Seriously.

Because I am both lazy and hopeful, however, I have not cancelled my subscription. Instead, I've dutifully flipped through each issue that comes along, hoping for inspiration. More often than not, I pass everything along to my landlady, who reads the issues and then takes them to work, where they get snapped up... and I don't have to feel guilty about wasting a perfectly adequate magazine.

And then I received our weekly CSA e-mail, and what are we getting today? Tatsoi. Bok choy. Radishes. Snap peas. Scallions. For the third week in a row. Don't get me wrong- we love the seasonality of the CSA model, repeats and all, but with full-time jobs and night classes, both of us are a little short on creative cooking brainpower these days.

Last week, because I was in that kind of a mood, everything got the Italian cuisine treatment. In the midst of making our weekly menu+grocery list and not wanting repeats, L and I flipped through a stack of back issues, and what did I find in this month's Bon Appetit? Bok choy. Radishes. Snap peas. Scallions. Add the tatsoi and we'll be able to use up everything, while it's still superfresh, in just two recipes!

Way to pull through, BA! Extend this streak and I may have to reconsider how quickly I give away those issues!

New Puppy Cousin

2010-06-23T09:42:00.001-04:00

Wow- time seems to fly around here. Things have been nuts and I am apparently very good at spending most of my time neglecting this blog. Perhaps we need to play the lottery more often! In which case, L would have to wheel me down the hallway every morning and evening, because I might be traveling-and-cooking-and-baking-wild for a good long time. There's a lot of food out there to try!

In family news, the puppers is getting a new cousin! One of these handsome little boys will be ready to go home soon. He will be named Otis (I KNOW- love it!), and I think he is going to run everyone completely ragged, in addition to wrapping us all around his tiny paw. We can't wait to meet him!

All Mushrooms Are Edible- Once

2009-10-21T18:50:00.005-04:00

I picked these up on a walk with the puppers. The weather here has been crazy this fall (snow! this past Sunday! big fat flakes!), but apparently it's just right for wild mushrooms to flourish.

We eventually tossed them- I'm no mycologist, and it's not worth a hospital trip (or worse).

Still, they were beautifully tempting.

Baby, it's Cold Outside! Citrusy Roasted Beets

2009-10-15T18:42:00.012-04:00

According to the weather reporters around here, we're having one of the coldest Octobers on record.

The lovely people at the The Old Farmer's Almanac who are, incidentally, known for their amazingly accurate weather prediction skills, are telling us to expect a colder-than-average winter this year.

And I'm the only person I know who is genuinely gleeful about this- I adore harsh winters, snow shoveling and all!

I'm sure this is due, in part, to all the body-and-soul-warming cooking that can happen only when the kitchen isn't 102'F and/or dripping with the nasty, oppressive humidity that Boston likes to dump on everyone each spring and summer.

Naturally, something I really love coming back to each fall is roasting. We roast everything around here- meat and vegetables, obviously, and often fruit, too. It's such a beautifully easy technique, and best of all, roasting (in this case) gives you foolproof caramelization, which catapults humble vegetables like cauliflower, broccoli, parsnips, celery root and beets from dry and fibrous to sweet and succulent.

I can't think of a better way to discover that you like beets!

When in season, blood orange juice lends a lovely tart zip. These are particularly good added to winter salads.

Citrusy Roasted Beets
serves 4 as a side dish

1 pound beets, trimmed, peeled and quartered*
3 tablespoons orange juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon orange zest
pinch of sea salt

Preheat oven to 425'F.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat baking mat OR use a cast iron skillet large enough to hold the beets in a single layer.

Stir together orange juice and orange zest. Set aside.

Toss beets in olive oil and tip onto baking sheet/into skillet. Sprinkle with salt.

Roast, tossing occasionally, until the beets are soft when pierced with a fork, usually around 30-45 minutes depending on the size of your beets.

When done but still piping hot, toss roasted beets with orange juice + zest mixture.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

* There is some debate as to whether beets should be peeled before or after roasting. I like to peel and cut them up first because this way, you get great caramelization on the cut sides of the beets.

Williams-Sonoma / All-Clad Ultimate Chicken Roaster?!

2009-10-12T15:00:00.014-04:00

An ad for this contraption (straight out of The Jetsons?) arrived in my inbox this morning. After a long weekend of fun houseguests (S & A!), daily feasting and tipsy revelry late into the evenings, it certainly had me checking that I'd put my contact lenses in the right way.

Now, let's be clear here: I love you, Williams-Sonoma. I love you, All-Clad. I love you, fun kitchen gadgets and tools and cookware.

But honestly, how are we supposed to take this "Ultimate Chicken Roaster" seriously (especially given, according to someone who had already reviewed it, that the arm can't easily hold a heavy chicken)?

Alton Brown really is right about the unitaskers and gadgety kitchenware gone too far- 99% of the time, it's just. not. worth. it.

Buy good, humanely-farmed meat, take the time to brine, prep, season and cook it properly, and you will have fabulous roasted chicken every time. Sure, it takes a little time and effort, but it's not rocket science!

However! If they want to work on a roasting pan big enough to hold the 27+ lb CSA turkey we order each year for Thanksgiving? That is the kind of cookware design we'll get behind!

Bad Day Pizza

2009-10-09T20:02:00.004-04:00

For those who love cooking, and even for many people who don't, pizza seems like a fairly easy thing to make. Mix up some dough in your stand mixer (or buy raw dough balls from your local pizzeria or well-stocked store), let it sit overnight, toss it around, slap on some toppings, bake for 10 minutes, eat. Right?

Wrong.

Ok, maybe I should rephrase that.

When you're having a good day, the dealing-with-the-pizza-dough-bit is easy. It relaxes in your hands, stretches out and bounces back just so, forms the perfect shape for your pan with just a bit of mindful effort, and doesn't rip into long, gaping holes in the middle... and on the sides... and everywhere in between.

When you're having a bad day... well, it's all about those damn holes.

Perhaps pizza dough is some sort of cruel stress barometer. A few days ago I was a crazy ball of stress, and it culminated in the most frustrating of pizza-dough-rolling experiences that went something like this:

1. Attempt to shape pizza dough. Fail.

2. Attempt to reshape pizza dough. Harumph.

3. Attempt to reshape pizza dough. Scream.

4. Attempt to reshape pizza dough. Cry.

5. Vaguely hear L say soothingly, "honey, it's fine, don't worry about it, we'll fry it up into doughboys instead."

6. Decide that one's cooking pride is at stake and that damn *%&^4#@!!! pizza dough is NOT going to win.

7. Wash hands. Take deep breath.

8. Beat pizza dough into submission- or rather, a perfect pizza shape- with a French rolling pin (given a nice rest after all this work, the dough is chewy, tender, and not too tough).

9. Declare win: petite gourmande 1, pizza dough 0.

10. Celebrate victory with a Harpoon Oktoberfest (and wonder why you didn't think of the rolling pin earlier).

If you would like to beat your very own pizza dough into submission on a bad day (or a good one), I suggest you start with purchased raw dough or Heidi's dough recipe (homemade dough freezes really well, and we keep it on hand for nights when we're not so tired that we get takeout, but we still want to do very little labour-intensive cooking) and Heidi's baking instructions.

Top with whatever sauce or ingredients you like, of course. We go for simple tomato sauce + mozzarella, or in this case, thinly sliced red potatoes + these caramelized onions + mozzarella + feta.

And the best part? Deliciously stress-melting comfort food leads me to #11: forget to be angry with that damn pizza dough.

Goodbye, Gourmet Magazine

2009-10-06T19:02:00.014-04:00

Thank you, Gourmet, for giving us decades of wonderful reading!

I'm sorry that I was only able to enjoy 20 years of you (and so grateful that my mom started me early).

It's high time this household has a few new cocktail recipe test runs in your honour.

Salut!

Ina Garten's Pappa Al Pomidoro (Tomato and Bread Soup)

2009-10-04T19:22:00.006-04:00

Why is it that all of Ina Garten's recipes both work perfectly the very first time and taste so damn good?

That woman is some sort of cooking sorceress, in the best sense, a la my beloved Strega Nona (every new baby who comes into our circle of friends gets a copy of that book, because no one should go without her special brand of magic).

It seems that we're on a soup kick in this house, because after the Avgolemono was eaten up, Ina Garten's recipe for Pappa Al Pomidoro was simmering on the stove (aided by the consumption of a few bottles of crisp Magic Hat Wacko and malty Harpoon Oktoberfest).

Perhaps it was a subliminally-propelled last nod to summer captured in spicy basil, fragrant fennel, and sweet, zesty tomatoes.

In other words: scrumptious.

As an added bonus, tonight, 2 cups of the leftovers are going into a beef+pork meatloaf that, at this moment, is making all the stomachs in this house grumble in anticipation! Project Clean Out the Pantry and Fridge is underway in full force, and I am very pleased indeed.

Avgolemono (Greek Lemon Chicken Soup)

2009-10-03T16:16:00.009-04:00

With both of us spending the majority of each workday in academic institutions alongside germy dorm-living students, we've both been miraculously healthy at the start of this cold and flu season. So far. I'm tempting fate rather boldly by saying that, aren't I?!

However! General household exhaustion means that neither of us wants to spend much time cooking, and that we're keeping ingredients on hand for comfort-food soups (good for no-energy cooking AND colds and flus)... which leads me to one particular recipe for Avgolemono (Greek Lemon Chicken Soup) that I absolutely love and crave. With a salad it makes up a perfect quick dinner, and it's especially soothing when you're sick (sometimes, when you can't taste anything else, the lemony bite still comes through).

We especially like it with shredded poached chicken and tiny star pastina. It's funny how fun pasta shapes- stars in particular- really do add something.

I'll let Serious Eats' Blake Royer explain how this recipe came about, as I couldn't do it better. I discovered it in the epicurious comments not long after A Cook from Boston, MA posted his/her version, and we've been hooked ever since.

Liquid Black Forest

2009-09-13T16:10:00.008-04:00

A house favourite around here, especially when the weather is chilly, courtesy of the Sunset Grill & Tap's fabulous beertail menu! Is fearr de thú Guinness!

Liquid Black Forest

1 pint cold Guinness
2 shots (3 fluid ounces) cold framboise lambic (we like Lindemans)

Pour the Guinness into a pint glass.

Hold a spoon, bowl side (aka. curved part) up, directly over the surface of the Guinness. Slowly and carefully pour the lambic over the spoon so that it runs down the inside wall of the glass and into the beer. It should settle to the bottom of the glass.

Enjoy your beertail and, if applicable, your new-found bartending trick!

Ina Garten's Brioche + Savoury Bread Pudding

2009-09-10T19:30:00.003-04:00

The latest stretch of lovely, chilly, fall weather we've been enjoying has got me itching to bake!

I'm driving up to New Hampshire tomorrow to visit my parents (who are here on a very long vacation) and my grandmother (who has a sheep- for textiles only!- farm with a gorgeous mountain view). And since our freezer and fridge are overflowing with CSA goodies, I begged them to let me offload some in the form of bringing supper!

A few nights ago, over a dinner featuring, incidentally, flounder and whiting from our Cape Ann Fresh Catch fish share, I was thinking about what I'd bring tomorrow. Nothing too liquidy, as it has to travel well over MA highways and NH dirt roads; nothing too huge, as it has to fit into a cooler; nothing that I have to go grocery shopping (again) to complete; nothing that takes too long to put together or cook when I get there.

And then it came to me- a savoury bread pudding! The bread soaks up the liquid so it won't slosh all over the cooler, braising greens make it a great one-dish meal (though I usually can't manage supper without a salad, too), I can do all the prep and assembly work tonight, and it will cook in less than an hour.

One particular Epicurious recipe for Arugula, Bacon, and Gruyère Bread Pudding fit the bill perfectly, so I'm putting it together tonight.

I reeeealy didn't want to go back to the grocery store, so I went freezer-shopping and decided to use up some of our many sticks of butter on an old, easy peasy standby bread recipe that we love: Ina Garten's brioche. Instead of making rolls, you divide the dough in half, pat each piece into a 6"x8" rectangle, roll it up lengthwise, and place the pieces seam-side-down into loaf pans so they can do the final 2-hour rise. Brush with egg-water mixture, bake until golden brown and a tap on the crust produces a hollow sound, and voila! Fabulous, irresistible homemade brioche.

At the moment, the two loaves are rising. I'll bake them and then slice them into cubes, and then do a quick oven-toast because I don't have time to let them go stale naturally.

Braising greens, including arugula, will work in place of just arugula. I'll substitute parmesan for the Gruyère, too, because that's what we have. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention! With some herbed, roasted potatoes and a tomato + macerated red onion + red leafy lettuce salad, we'll have an easy, lovely cool-weather supper.

Next on my to-do-list: find a wine to go with all this food!

Christmas Cookies 2009. Already.

2009-09-09T15:53:00.006-04:00

Yes. I am already ~~thinking~~ obsessing about this year's Christmas cookies.

The problem is that I like to make lots of different ones, and I haven't found too many recipes that I really love (and that warrant the time, energy, and expense of making tin after tin of sweets).

I will absolutely make my favourite gingerbread recipe, because to me, it's not a truly proper Christmas without it. Same goes for the pecan fingers/puckle warts, though those are a much newer addition to our must-have Christmas cookie list. My mom, in particular, looooooooves them, which is reason enough to keep them on the list.

I'm pretty sure that I will make molasses crinkles again, as they're easy and always a big hit. Part of me wonders if they're too much like the gingerbread, but then again, they satisfy my craving for cookies speckled with chewy, spicy pieces of crystallized ginger in a way that the gingerbread doesn't.

I've also fooled around with mint chocolate cookies and bitter cream & orange biscuits. Both were great, they didn't meet the last-more-than-a-few-days and ships-well requirements.

I could always choose from the slew of gorgeous, delicious Czech Christmas cookies my family makes... but honestly? I get huge boxes from two households every year, and they've been making them for ages, so how can my baking compare? I'd like to make something different for us and to give to friends and family.

Since the cookie recipes passed down in family all fall into the Czech (and already being made by others) category, my first inclination is to search epicurious.com for their highest-rated offerings. Italian fig cookies? Grasshopper squares? Salty-sweet langues de chat? Pâtes de fruits (aka. have I lost my mind)?

It's enough to make me crazy (or maybe it's just me making myself crazy?!). Funny how as the colder weather moves in, visions of sugarplums swirl in my head as I try to fall asleep.

Formatting. Hrmph. A Move to WordPress?

2009-09-08T13:46:00.006-04:00

Blogger's formatting issues are making me crazy. Am contemplating a move to WordPres s, not least of all because I like the colours on one particular template. They remind me of this moscato label, actually. Hrm.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like... I'm an OCD Planner?

2009-09-08T09:57:00.016-04:00

Yesterday, I ordered our New Year's Cards... for this year AND next. I got the New Year's Card bug from my mom, who was always late with her Christmas cards until she decided to screw it and do cards for the New Year instead, since they can be sent out whenever you wish. Apparently, I also got the planning-ahead bug as backlash to my mom being late with everything. So yes, I know. I'm insane (L/mr. petite gourmande informed me of this, in case there was any question).

The problem is that I've discovered tiny*prints. And I have become completely and utterly addicted.

Rather than putting pictures of ourselves on the cards, though, I opted to use our furry little troublemaker. L and I are both camera shy, and honestly? We both agree that it's a little odd to receive holiday cards that showcase pictures of people we see regularly. We know what you look like, people! I can see why people use pictures of their kids, as they change and grow so quickly- that makes more sense to me.

To each their own, I suppose. It's just not for us.

Anyway, tiny*prints has one design that I've been drawn to for the past year, which I wrote off because I didn't have a furbaby picture that suited it. And with my luck, I know they would discontinue it before I got to use it for one year's cards. So yesterday, I bribed the pup with some tiny Trader Joe's liver treats, draped some tinsel around his collar, and fooled around with the camera until I got some (mostly crap +) a few great shots. I need to use that camera more or I forget about all the cool settings.

He wondered what the hell I was doing for about two seconds, and then decided the treats were all that mattered. We think he's part pig.

How does this OCD-ness relate to cooking? Well, I bought all the spices for my Christmas gingerbread cookies last weekend. Of course. I was so happy to find whole mace at Eastern Lahmajun (in Watertown). I have to make the cookies before the end of October, or they won't have aged properly by December!

The only thing left to think about is what I want to make out of gingerbread this year. Last year I did cookies and iced trees (why didn't I take pictures of those? stupid stupid.), and my hands ached for days afterwards- all that rolling, cutting out cookies, and then holding an icing bag steady for an entire evening. The trees were the most fun, but they don't ship well to family and friends, which is a problem. Cookies can get boring towards the end, but are certainly the easiest decision. A gorgeous iced house or two would be so much fun, but those take good planning and are really hard to share with my family across the country.

Decisions, decisions...

Maybe all this is my subconscious longing for snuggly cold weather clothing, lovely snowstorms and winter vacation?

My Mom's Alsatian Fruit Tart

2009-09-07T14:27:00.009-04:00

My mom is an amazing cook, though she doesn't believe it when we tell her that.

My family is here (where my mom grew up) for three weeks. They're visiting other family and friends during the weeks, and coming back to us each weekend. Last night, we had a dinner for friends and family, and as I'd been drawn to some odd-looking, mottled pluots and bought a kilo on a whim (we used all but 4 of the pluots for this tart), I asked my mom to show me how she makes this tart. I have the recipe, but I hadn't watched her make it in a few years, and I like cooking with her better than following a recipe anyway.

It's super gorgeous and very easy. You make a buttery pâte brisée (no blind baking the shell) and line the tart pan with it. Then you put, cut side up, as many firm plum/pluot/apricot halves as will fit in the raw crust. Put this into a 400'F oven for 30 minutes or so. While it's baking, mix up the custard ingredients (this recipe would work nicely). Carefully pour this mixture into the hot, half-baked tart and bake until the custard is set and browned.

If your fruit is very juicy, skip the flan, sprinkle sugar on top of the fruit, and just bake it until the crust is golden, the juices are bubbling, and the sugar is a bit caramelized and crunchy.

We made this with elephant pluots, which were sort of dreary looking on the outside but turned out to have beautifully vivid, sweet-tart flesh. My mom makes this tart with all sorts of firm stone fruits (damson plums and apricots being her favourites), though the original recipe is for a tarte aux pommes alsacienne (Alsatian apple tart). The original recipe is from Elle Magazine en français, ca. 1970s, which she had a subscription to because she liked the recipe cards and knitting patterns, and because she liked to keep up her French reading skills. Not that she needs the help- she's a language whiz.

I was lucky enough to grow up thinking that everyone ate desserts like this.

The Minister's Red Currant Rum

2009-02-07T07:24:00.028-05:00

In order to explain this recipe, I must admit something here: I love love love the Harry Potter books.

Complete. Total. Sucker.

A few years ago, after I'd read the actual books, L gave me the audiobooks. When I am in the mood for a comfortable, familiar voice and story, when I want to zone out, or when I want to hear something calming as I fall asleep (audiobooks are great for shutting up a racing brain at bedtime), I put on one of those recordings. I think it must drive L nuts- or maybe it's so far past that now that he can just tune it out!

Pumpkin pasties and butter beer aside, every time I hear the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge order red currant rum, I've thought about how superbly delicious that sounds. Alas, as it so often is with things you crave (nevermind the fact that I'd never actually tasted it), I could not find a recipe for red currant rum anywhere. Not in cookbooks, not online, and not in the hands of fellow cooking-obsessed friends.

So in the end- poor poor me- here was a ready-made excuse to invent and test and try and taste and play around in the kitchen! As you can imagine, I was thrilled!

I originally wanted to drink this rum neat, and I do like a little sweetness in my straight-up-booze, so I made multiple batches of the red currant rum with a few different natural sweeteners. As usual, I preferred the particular flavour and sweetness of honey, perhaps because it reminds me of mead, and certainly because it's a perfect, earthy foil for the bright, tart currants.

If you don't like honey, ~~I don’t know if I can be friends with you~~ you can use sugar, keeping in mind that honey often tastes sweeter than sugar, so measure accordingly. I generally use a 3:4 ratio of honey to sugar. Drink sweetness is such a personal thing that I suggest you play around- start with a little and add in small increments- until you find a level that you like best. This rum ages well, so experimenting in this way is easy.

And before you go all, "why are you posting this now? currants aren't in season until late summer!" on me, just consider how much time you now have to plan!

The Minister's Red Currant Rum

1 cup fresh or frozen red currants
1 liter white rum
3 tablespoons honey (double or triple this if you want something more like a liqueur)

You will want to make your red currant rum in a glass (not plastic) container so that you can safely use a bain-marie, or water bath, to release those yummy currant flavours. I also believe that, in general, glass is a safer container for storing foods.

To prepare your bain-marie, heat a few liters of water in a saucepan large enough to accommodate your rum container.

If your currants are fresh and on the vine, pick them off. Wash the currants gently in cold water and let them drip dry in a colander or on a clean towel.

If your currants are frozen, just defrost them in the rum.

Drop the currants into your glass container (or pour them in, if you didn't insist on using a bottle with such a tiny mouth- argh), drizzle in the honey, and then add the rum.

At this point, carefully check your bain-marie. The water doesn't need to be boiling or just-boiled, but steam should be rising from the surface. If you're using Pyrex, you can keep the water at a simmer; if you're unsure about the quality of your glass, make sure the heat under the saucepan is turned off.

Put your rum container into the bain-marie and let it sit for 10 minutes. Then, remove the rum from the bain-marie and let it sit at room temperature until cool.

Seal/stopper/cover the rum and let it sit in a cool, dark place for at least six months and up to one year. Give the container a good shake every month or so. I like concentrated flavours, so I try to keep myself away from the rum for as long as I can!

When you're ready, strain the infused rum into a clean, sterilized container.

Enjoy your red currant rum neat, in your favourite cocktail recipe, or after aging, well-sealed, in a cool, dark place for up to a few years.

A hopeful return and thank you!

2009-02-03T19:03:00.014-05:00

Thank you! Thank you so much for all the sweet comments asking about this blog.

Alas, at the end of the semester last year, my busy life and crazy job kicked in with a vengeance and I dropped off the face of the earth... at least, where this blog is concerned. Well, actually, I think some of my friends would agree here, too, as I haven't seen them nearly as often as I'd like.

Now that I feel a little bit less like I've been holding my breath and racing along for a year, I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things here.

I will try to pull myself away from the cookbook reading that is such a nice diversion from shoveling miles and miles of snow!

Late Bloomer

2008-05-20T20:17:00.002-04:00

Or early, depending on how you see it.

This is the second time this one has bloomed, in spite of the fact that it's horribly neglected at times. Or perhaps because of it!

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble

2008-04-17T21:29:00.012-04:00

Ok. I know, I know. Rhubarb in April? That makes sense- it's just coming into season. But strawberries? In April? Not so much.

Here's the problem. Rhubarb is one of the first food plants to be ready to harvest in the Northeast, which means that rhubarb season has officially begun and the first young stalks- tender and flushed bright, coral pink- have finally appeared in my favourite grocery store.

Ok, that's not really the problem. The real issue is that, of course, the store had gorgeously bright stalks of rhubarb stacked strategically, temptingly close to pallets of strawberries. $8 for 8 pounds of berries is pretty damn cheap. But it's really not strawberry season here. Not even close- we have to wait for July for that. I don't think it's strawberry season on the West Coast either, so I am sure that these California strawberries were grown in a hothouse.

We were all set to resist them, thinking that we'd make do with just rhubarb. I was convinced that the strawberries would be, like so many hothouse grown fruits, all pretty looks with a bland, boring taste. But then, curiosity got the better of me and I leaned in to take a closer look at the ruby gems. That was when it hit me- the most fragrant summery scent I've enjoyed in months wafted up from the pallets.

Really, who can resist the idea of strawberry rhubarb crumble? Strawberry rhubarb sorbet? Strawberry rhubarb preserves? Strawberry rhubarb anything?

Not us. We came home with 8 pounds of tasty strawberries.

So, of course, the inaugural dish for the season's first rhubarb had to be a crumble. Perhaps we were blinded by the excitement of bright, summery flavours laced with a lovely refreshing note from the Cointreau- we happily devoured this plain, no ice cream needed... though I am sure a scoop or two wouldn't hurt!

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble

For the filling:
2 quarts/16 ounces strawberries, washed and sliced into 1 inch pieces
8 ounces rhubarb, washed and sliced into 1/2-inch pieces
3/4 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon Cointreau (optional)

For the topping:
1 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cold butter, cut into 1/2 inch dice
1/4 cup sliced almonds
3 tablespoons light brown sugar

Preheat oven to 400'F. Butter a 12 inch baking dish.

Toss rhubarb, strawberries, sugar and Cointreau (if using) in a bowl and set aside to macerate for 15-30 minutes.

To make the crumble topping, pour the flour and brown sugar into a small bowl. With quick movements and using the tips of your fingers, rub in the butter until it is thoroughly combined and has a texture like rough sand. Toss in the almonds.

Pour the fruit mixture into the buttered dish. Sprinkle the topping over the fruit.

Bake until topping is golden brown and fruit juices are bubbling, approximately 40-50 minutes. Serve warm.

Farm Share Redux: 2008

2008-04-06T12:16:00.015-04:00

At the beginning of January, we signed up for our 2008 CSA farm share. I'm thrilled, as always, especially since the farm shares seem to sell out faster and faster every year!

We opted into everything again this year- the June through October vegetable share, summer fruit share, and the November + December winter vegetable share. And again this year, the amazing organic produce that we pick will be cheaper and more delicious than anything we can find at our local chain grocery stores. Food is so amazingly expensive around here, and I'm always disappointed at how much you have to spend to get decent produce at places like Whole Foods.

Our meat share has been working out beautifully, too. We opted for no lamb, which drives L just a little nuts, but I just don't love the taste and I have a hard time with the idea of lamb and veal. I figure that we can buy it separately if need be. In any case, we've been enjoying amazingly fresh, flavourful meat from Chestnut Farms, and though I seem to be eating less and less meat in general these days, I feel better knowing exactly where our meat comes from.

A has even given the ground beef (a trusty Marcella Hazan cookbook and 6 lazy hours on the stove turned it into the most amazing bolognese) his stamp of approval, and that's a big deal coming from someone who grew up on a self-sufficient farm!

As you may have noticed, rising food prices and local farms/farmers are gaining momentum in the news, and most people agree that buying local whenever possible is a great solution. Buying local, and even better: local and organic produce can be difficult, if not impossible when you live in the city- especially if you don't have a car, and why would you need one in Boston anyway? At the risk of sounding cliché, I do believe that every little bit helps, so we're happy to do our part wherever we can.

My cookbook collection has slowly grown over the winter holidays, and I've been marking intriguing summer vegetable recipes left and right in cookbooks and the newest issues of Gourmet, Bon Appétit and Saveur.

L and I have eaten just about as many winter vegetables as we can manage, and even though I'm thrilled that I've got some new winter veggie recipes and techniques under my belt after the snowy, long-and-slow-cooking-friendly New England winter, I know that we are both ready for a change.

I'm craving bright colours, luscious strawberries and melons, buttery zucchini and summer squash, and sweet, juicy tomatoes; winter foods are comforting, but I'm tired of white and orange and bits of green here and there. I'm ready for the 2008 harvest season to start!

Ina Garten's Double Chocolate Pudding

2008-03-14T15:26:00.004-04:00

It seems that March is turning into Sweets Month around here! If we have a sunny day that makes photographing a bit easier, I'll extend the streak with a last call before the citrus season ends: the previously promised recipe for Italian Lemon Ice.

The cold, snowy and rainy weather (it's too early for rain!) we've been having here lately has made it difficult to take anything but dark, shadowy pictures. It's unfortunate, too, because this weather is best weathered (ha!) from the warm and cozy indoors, preferably with a mug of tea and a new recipe to try.

In this spirit of new recipes, I recently whipped up a batch of Ina Garten's Double Chocolate Pudding. Unlike custards, which can be fussy and have the potential to go very, very wrong, this recipe is wonderfully simple. Don't get me wrong- I love the delicious elegance of custards and pots de créme- but sometimes all you want is a recipe that doesn't require too much mental energy and concentration. This dark, intense chocolate pudding fits the bill perfectly.

Since I knew that pure chocolate flavour would be showcased here, I used Scharffen Berger cocoa powder and, since Ina calls for semisweet chocolate, Scharffen Berger's 62% chocolate.

Percentages, which you are probably seeing listed on chocolate more and more these days, refer to the percentage of cacao-derived ingredients in chocolate. Chocolate with a higher percentage listed has a substantial amount of cacao and less sugar, so it is often labelled bittersweet, bitter or unsweetened. Chocolate with a low %- like milk chocolate- contains less cacao and more flavourings like sugar, milk and vanilla. White chocolate contains only sugar, cocoa butter, and milk solids.

Making this pudding was, not surprisingly, a breeze. Everything went swimmingly until the end, when it took a while for the pudding to thicken over low heat. I was convinced that I'd done something wrong or left something out, and I kept re-reading the recipe while trying to whisk at the same time... but once it started to firm up, the pudding turned beautifully, custardy-thick very quickly. Phew! I know that I can always trust Ina's recipes. Don't know what was going on in my head there.

The ease of this recipe means that you have absolutely no reason not to try it, unless you don't like chocolate, in which case there is no hope for you. The pudding has a pleasingly smooth texture, fabulously rich cocoa flavour and a lovely, lingering bitter chocolate finish. It's definitely not airy in a mousse sort of way, but there is an incredible lightness to it all the same.

I'd absolutely serve it to guests in elegant little bowls, and I imagine it would make a lovely cake or pastry filling, though I believe it's most delicious when eaten straight out of the bowl, preferably with help from friends.

Maple Berry Frozen Yogurt

2008-03-07T21:09:00.010-05:00

Lately I've been really, really tired- hence my one and only February post. Pathetic, I know. I do love my day job, but during the busy months, it's absolutely exhausting. Between a big conference and related week-long work trip to New York City, fighting off the colds and flus that travelled mercilessly around my office and every other workplace in Boston, multiple snowstorms and seemingly endless show shoveling, and turning 27 (a crazy fun day that also required full energy for hours of walking, museum and cooking supply shop visits, and of course, eating), February was a tough month.

I know things are bad when I don't even have the energy to cook- the one activity that usually relaxes and energizes me! The good news is that we're already halfway through the semester, which means just a few more months of hectic madness before my job settles back into a more normal, fluid routine and I have more energy for kitchen experiments at home!

When I'm stressed, my appetite goes out the window, so I knew things were getting back to normal when I felt the urge to try out the ice cream maker again- this time, to make something other than sorbet. We didn't have nearly enough whole milk or cream in the house (why do these urges to experiment come right after we've gone to the grocery store?!) for ice cream or gelato, but we did have quite a bit of one of my favourite foods: yogurt. I have a lifelong love affair going with dairy products, and yogurt is at the very top of that list. So of course, frozen yogurt it was!

The inspiration for this frozen yogurt comes from a lovely, simple dessert that L's mom serves often during the summer: plain yogurt sweetened with a touch of maple syrup and topped with fresh berries. In both fresh and frozen versions, the clean tang of the yogurt is balanced by the bright, fresh flavours of the berries and the distinctive woodsy sweetness of the maple syrup. Salt sounds like a strange addition, but it really does bring out vibrant notes in sweets (see chocolates and caramels sprinkled with fleur de sel).

I used my favourite store-bought yogurt: Liberté 2%, and a frozen mixture of strawberries, blackberries, raspberries and blueberries. A gorgeous plummy purple flecked with vivid specks of juicy berries, easy-peasy recipe and healthier than ice cream- how can you go wrong?

Maple Berry Frozen Yogurt
makes approximately 5 cups

27 ounces/3 1/3 cups plain yogurt, thoroughly chilled
3/4 cups Grade A maple syrup, thoroughly chilled
10 ounces mixed berries, chilled if fresh or slightly thawed if frozen
pinch of salt

2+ quart capacity bowl, chilled in the refrigerator

Coarsely mash by hand the cold berries and any juice they give off, or roughly purée with just a few pulses in a food processor.

Quickly mix cold yogurt, maple syrup, berries and salt together in a cold bowl. Freeze according to your ice cream maker instructions (this batch took 30 minutes in my Cuisinart 2 quart ice cream maker).

Pack into containers and store in the freezer- the yogurt will harden considerably in the next 24 hours.

Maslenitsa and Simple Blini

2008-03-02T21:17:00.024-05:00

Ма́сленица, Maslenitsa, or "Butter Week," the Russian equivalent of Carnival or Shrovetide, is celebrated during the week leading up to orthodox Lent (March 2-8 this year). The holiday is full of merriment: Punch and Judy-style puppets shows, theatrical performances, troika sled rides, singing, bonfires, fireworks, a burning kostroma effigy to bid winter farewell and fertilize the coming crops... and nutty fun like icy-pole-climbing contests, naked "polar bear" dips in frozen rivers and lakes, and fistfights.

While I grew up celebrating Fat Tuesday, for some reason I've always preferred the blini and vodka-laden festival that is Maslenitsa.

Blini, an essential part of Maslenitsa, can be likened to Russian pancakes. They come in thin, delicate un-yeasted (like French crêpes) and thick, fluffy yeasted versions, and are always, always, always eaten in copious quantities with a variety of sweet and savoury fillings.

During his six-week high school homestay in Moscow, L was told by his host family that a real man will eat two forearm-length-tall stacks of blini, but that as an American, he would be allowed to get by on a one-forearm-length stack. Three years later, when I was a student in Moscow and L flew over from Egypt to visit, we were invited to an amazing, sumptuous dinner at the family's home, where true to her word, his former host mother cooked up the only appropriate amount for her family and the two of us: eye-high stacks of fabulously delicious blini.

A year later, my friend C and I were two of the four Russian majors in our class, and we lived in the same on-campus house that senior year of college. So naturally, we offered to host the Russian Department's yearly Maslenitsa festivities at our place. Early that morning, we rose and prepared the yeast blini batter, and I mixed up a huge batch of un-yeasted blini as well, for good measure. Early afternoon, when the guests started to arrive, arms piled high with bottles of vodka and homemade blini fillings, the fun officially began.

Out came both enormous bowls of batters. I showed our other housemates, who had happily joined in the merriment, and a few cooking-inclined Russian Studies students, how to pan-fry blini, and everyone took turns pouring batter, flipping the golden blini higher and higher, and sliding piping hot ones quickly onto plates ready for refills.

Over the course of a few hours, we made hundreds of blini for guests to pile high with the incredible array of homemade fillings: savoury sautéed wild mushrooms, ever-present and addictively-tasty marinated mushrooms, delicious баклажанная икра (bakhlazhanaya ikra, or eggplant caviar), salty home-smoked fish, thick sour cream, creamy fresh tvorog, glittering kompot, syrupy jams, sticky dark honey, rich local butter, and much more.

As bellies filled and blini consumption slowed, shots of icy-cold vodka flowed and "za druzhba! to friendship!" toasts carried through the house to the snow-covered front porch. As winter twilight descended and night fell, all around cheeks glowed pink from the blini-cooking stovetop warmth and free-flowing vodka. We celebrated for hours, and a faint, rosy morning light shone as the last guests departed, singing and laughing at the tops of their lungs.

Thankfully, most of our guests were students who lived on campus, and they left in pairs and groups to walk safely home; those who weren't students left with two designated drivers. No walking alone or driving for anyone that night!

I don't think I will be outdoing that celebration for at least a few more years! In the meantime, however, we will celebrate Maslenitsa with my favourite blini- a light, unyeasted recipe that turns out very thin pancakes with curled, crisp, lacy edges. There is some argument as to whether or not these can be called blini at all, as some people say that unyeasted pancakes are entirely different and must be called blintzes, but my Russian friends assure me that I can call them blini without reproach.

These blini are identical to many recipes for Czech palačinky- one of my childhood and current comfort foods- which is probably why I like them best. While it's not the traditional thick and fluffy version, this recipe is absolutely respectable for Maslenitsa celebrations.

This recipe lends itself well to doubling, tripling, and beyond. Don't worry if the first blin comes out looking awful, as this is just the way blini cooking works. The Russians even have a phrase for it: pervyni blin komom (the first blin is a flop)!

Simple Blini (or Palačinky)

1 cup all-purpose or whole wheat flour
1 1/3 cups milk (not skim)
1 egg
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon sugar (optional- only for sweet fillings)
Butter for pan

If possible, turn oven to very low heat and put a stack of plates inside to warm up. Alternately, you can use Alton Brown's method and warm the plates under an electrical heating pad. Cold plates will cool the blini very quickly, and they are best when piping hot.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour and salt to combine. In a separate bowl, beat the egg, then add milk (and sugar, if using) and whisk until well-mixed. Add egg and milk mixture to flour mixture and beat until smooth. You should have a fairly thin batter with few lumps.

Heat a heavy medium-sized griddle (a crêpe pan works well) on medium heat for two minutes. Add a pat of butter to the pan- if butter immediately smokes, pour off butter and turn the heat down. You want the butter to sizzle without burning.

Add 1/2 or 1/4 cup batter* to the pan and quickly swirl the pan at an angle so that the batter runs out in from the center all directions. Cook for 30 seconds and then start checking the underside- when it is golden brown, quickly flip the blin and cook for 15-30 seconds more, until golden spots appear on the pale underside and the blin moves freely on the pan.

Slide the blin onto a warm plate, top with a thin layer of filling(s), roll or fold up, and serve immediately.

* Makes 6 medium (1/2 cup batter) or 12 small (1/4 cup batter) blini.

Meat Share and Pork Chops with Mustard Sauce

2008-02-08T23:07:00.002-05:00

Our exciting food-related news of late is that we've now received two month's pickups from our new meat CSA offered (through our Waltham Fields farm share) by Chesnut Farms in Hardwick, Massachusetts. Prices are very reasonable for what you get- a fabulous variety of naturally raised, humanely handled, hormone and chemical-free meats.

If you get to the monthly pickup early enough, you can buy huge beef bones for soup and for your puppers, and for $3/dozen, you can get delicious fresh eggs- the family's young son buys the chicken feed, cares for the chickens, collects the eggs, and any profits made are his to keep. We're thrilled to support local farmers trough this great source of meat and eggs!

Lately, I've had a hard time finding the energy for perusing through and trying out new recipes (much less blogging about cooking). A normal weekday around here is starting to look like this:

Morning: Desperately try to roll out of bed. One of us walks the dog while the other tries to do 18 things at once- get lunches out, take out the trash, start the dishwasher, find mobile phones (and curse because neither are properly charged), rinse snowmelt chemicals and road salt off the dog's paws- to get us both ready for work. L drops me off close to my office, because we are usually almost late and his office, which is next door to mine, is tiny bit more flexible about these things.

Day: Hit the ground running. Work a full, exhausting day.

Evening: Relaxing walk with L and the dog. If possible, get a few chores in- laundry, dishes, vacuuming, grocery shopping, farm share pickup, taxes (which are done!), unload dishwasher, shovel snow in driveway- before either of us are too tired to do any more, which seems to be earlier and earlier these days. A few nights ago, I roasted 5 butternut squash and 3 large acorn squash from the farm. After running everything through the food mill, we ended up with 22 cups (!) of squash for the freezer. Phew.

Dinner: Must be fast and tasty.

Next order of business: fall asleep in 2 minutes maximum.

In the interest of trying out some of the farm share meat in honour of Fat Tuesday, we broiled two tasty, salt-and-pepper-seasoned strip steaks and served them with sautéed wild mushrooms and potato gratin- a simple and good meal, but for some reason, not exactly the flavours I've been craving lately.

Wednesday night, however, we discovered an amazing recipe for Pork Chops with Mustard Sauce- briefly cooked chops drizzled with a velvety, tart mustard sauce flecked with soft, flavourful shallots and spicy cracked pepper. Very quick and extremely lip-smackingly delicious, this recipe is definitely going into my weeknight make-often rotation.

Initially, I wanted to brine the chops but was worried about the chops being overly salty if we started them before we left for work, so I tossed them in a bowl of brine when we got home from work and cooked them two hours later. I don't know if the short brine really helped, but either way, the farm pork chops were incredibly juicy and flavourful. For a satisfyingly crunchy heat, I coated the chops in a healthy dose of fresh, roughly-cracked peppercorns a la steak au poivre. I made the pan sauce with equal parts Kosciusko Spicy Brown Mustard (a staple in this house) and dijon mustard, and I substituted sour cream for cream; while the sauce was a bit tart and overpowering right out of the pan, it was a perfect complement to the savoury chops.

I recommend doubling the sauce recipe- you will be licking your plate clean! I am even tempted to try the sauce on other meats! Clearly, I think everyone should give this recipe a try.

Nigella's Orange Breakfast Muffins

2008-01-26T16:07:00.003-05:00

It's funny what happens when the world outside is covered in towering, powdery-white snowdrifts and your home internet goes out for what seems like a Very Long Time: you are given the chance to really, truly focus on those things you love to do in your spare time, without obligations to e-mail, upcoming-birthday-gift-shopping, bill monitoring or anything else that can leave a person tied to the computer.

During the past week and a half, we had great fun celebrating A's birthday with friends, learned so much more about my camera (and just how bad food pictures can turn out in oh-so-faint indoor winter light), delighted in the sheer pleasure Argos takes in chasing snowballs and jumping into said snowdrifts, watched some of the movies on The List*, read parts here and there of five different books without finishing any of them, baked a ton, and hoped for another huge snowstorm so we can spend another lazy snow day at home with the puppers.

In addition to a double batch of lemon curd- requisite for all birthdays- we spent last weekend enjoying all sorts of yummy treats with friends. On Saturday morning, I spent a few minutes wondering what in the world we were going to have for breakfast- a behaviour very unlike me, since I am usually insanely OCD and plan these things ahead. Having just gone grocery shopping, we had plenty of ingredients for something fancy in the house, but I really wanted something really fast and easy- no time spent chilling in the fridge (à la yeast breads or bread puddings), minimal preheating, no thawing frozen farm fruit from the summer.

Happily, while furiously digging through a stack of cookbooks, I thumbed right to a recipe for Orange Breakfast Muffins that I've had dog-eared ever since my copy of Nigella Bites arrived in the mail last fall. Yes, I am absolutely addicted to Amazon's cookbook section- and honestly, who wouldn't be? They have everything- absolutely everything- one needs to keep a girl happy in the kitchen.

These orange muffins come in a very close second on the happiness scale: light and moist, with a lovely, distinct orange flavour (and color!), they immediately made it to my will-make-often recipe shortlist. I want to say that they remind me of bright, sunny summer mornings, but I realize that would be silly, given that citrus season is winter. Ach. In any case, you get my point- they are the perfect thing for cold winter mornings. I didn't have the energy to grind almonds, so I substituted an overflowing handful of paper-thin, crunchy sliced almonds, which added a nice texture and subtle almond flavour. The sweet citrus scent of the muffins in the oven is enough to make anyone hungry, so I highly recommend doubling this muffin recipe. On the off chance that they don't all disappear at breakfast, however, they keep beautifully for snacks and weekday breakfasts.

* You know- that list of movies that you really, really must see at some point. The list that grows twice as fast as the crossing-off part. That one.

Blood Orange Sorbet

2008-01-12T12:59:00.003-05:00

Now that the Christmas and New Year holiday celebrations are over and life is a bit less hectic, I've had time to try out the gorgeous ice cream maker that L gave me for Christmas! I've coveted one for a quite a while, and am absolutely thrilled with this one. For a machine with such a simple mechanism it works beautifully, and we've had great success with it so far. L certainly knows that fun kitchen gadgets are the way to my heart!

As citrus season is upon us and there are so many tasty fruits just waiting to be eaten, I've been experimenting entirely with fruit sorbets. The very first thing I made was a positively addictive, intensely refreshing Italian Lemon Ice (post on that coming soon) from The Gourmet Cookbook that, for some reason, doesn't seem to be in their online recipe database. I was worried that it would be too sweet, but during our many taste tests I realised that I should have a bit more faith in Gourmet's recipes- the Lemon Ice was tart and sweet, with a fabulous icy mouth-feel and lovely hint of bitterness from the zest. We immediately made three more batches to share with family and friends at holiday dinners.

Aside from blueberries, I think blood oranges have got to be my favourite fruits, so naturally, I've been itching to make a blood orange sorbet. If you have an electric juicer and/or microplane zesting rasp, now is the time to use both. The lovely thing about sorbet is that when you base your recipes on flavours combinations you love, you really can't go terribly wrong when experimenting. Happily, we were thrilled with my first pass at blood orange sorbet- the texture is very smooth, and the intense blood orange flavour comes right through, with just the right balance of honeyed sweetness and bright citrus tang. I love the vibrant rosy colour, too!

So many sorbet recipes call for water to make the simple syrup, but I like a more intense flavour and colour, so I prefer to use only juice. I also adore the flavour of honey paired with fruits, so for citrus sorbets, I try to use honey in place of granulated sugar whenever possible. According to David Lebovitz (The Perfect Scoop), honey gives frozen desserts a smoother texture, too, due to the higher concentration of sugars.

If you made New Years resolutions to get healthier, exercise more, or at least try to eat better, then this is the perfect dessert for you. If you didn't bother with those kinds of resolutions, you can eat even more sorbet in one sitting!

Blood Orange Sorbet

3 cups (24 ounces/710 ml) freshly squeezed blood orange juice
3/4 cup (6 ounces/177 ml) cup good honey or 1 cup (8 ounces/227 g) white granulated sugar
2 tablespoons (28 grams) finely grated blood orange zest
2 tablespoons blood orange pulp (optional)
pinch of salt

Make a simple syrup by warming 1 cup of blood orange juice with honey or sugar over low heat, stirring frequently, until the honey or sugar has completely dissolved.

Remove from heat and stir in zest and salt. Stir in blood orange pulp, if using.

Pour simple syrup into a bowl with the remaining 2 cups blood orange juice and stir to combine.

Chill mixture thoroughly, then freeze according to your ice cream maker instructions. Initially, the sorbet will seem fairly soft, but it will firm up considerably in the freezer.

If you don't have an ice cream maker, don't worry- you can turn this into a granita! Pour the chilled mixture into a shallow pan and freeze, stirring with a fork every 30 minutes, until slushy- about 2 hours.

Anijsblokjes / Dutch Anise Blocks

2008-01-07T22:49:00.003-05:00

For as long as I can remember, my mom has kept at least a few long, thin tubes of Dutch anijsblokjes, or anise blocks- anise-flavoured sugar cubes used to make anijsmelk (anise milk)- in the spice cupboard. So of course, it follows that when I was a child, my mom and I often enjoyed anijsmelk in place of hot cocoa. Now that I live across the country, she sends a few tubes, which I hoard unabashedly, each year with my Christmas presents (thank you, mom!). I know that hot milk is something most people consider a children's drink, but I still love it, especially when transformed by a little something extra.

Not surprisingly, I love black licorice, pastis and ouzo, anise oil, and fennel in all forms; however, I will be the first to tell you that these sweet cubes are, strangely enough, very different. Drop one or two anijsblokjes into a mug of steaming hot milk and stir to help the wide, grainy cubes dissolve quickly. When you raise the cup to your lips, a sweet, subtle, almost floral scent swirls under your nose. Very delicately flavoured and not overbearingly sweet, anijsblokjes transform hot milk into a fragrant, soothing, perfect-for-cold-weather nightcap. Even L likes them, and he hates black licorice- and if that's not a selling point, then I don't know what is!

I've seen anijsblokjes in a few European grocery stores around the country, and a quick search turned them up in stores online as well. If you are lucky enough to spot them on a shelf near you*, be sure to give them a try. If you're feeling extremely generous, you are always welcome to send some my way, too!

* Unless you live in Holland, of course, in which case you can probably find them anywhere. I am supremely jealous.

New Year's Eve at La Morra

2008-01-03T20:28:00.001-05:00

This year (well, last year, technically), we spent a memorable New Year's Eve at La Morra in Brookline, where we enjoyed a four-course meal complete with well-chosen wine flight. The meal was fabulous, as always, and we had a fun time with the chef, waitstaff, and other diners. I don't know what it is about holidays that makes people especially warm and friendly, but I like it! Alas, I didn't take pictures- I was too busy savouring the food!

To start, Chef Josh Ziskin sent out an amuse bouche- a shot of the most incredible, elegant, light, creamy parsnip soup I have ever tasted. He topped it with celery oil and a celery leaf, and oh man, it was scrumptious. L doesn't even like parsnips (crazy, I know), and he really enjoyed it.

For the first course, I chose the the Fried Oysters (with microgreen salad)- it seems that the clams that were on the original menu weren't available, or weren't good enough to make the cut that day- and L had the Seared Foie Gras (with short rib bomboloni and mostarda di frutta), accompanied by a light, white 2006 Vietti Roero Arneis.

If you are a vegetarian, you might want to skip this paragraph. We'd recently happened upon an episode of Chef Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations (so we are now experts, of course!) that showed some of the duck feeding techniques for fois gras, and even though it makes me uncomfortable, it wasn't nearly as gruesome-looking as I'd imagined, though I do admit that people could easily abuse the process and animals on their own farms. Yes, the way fois gras is cultivated still bothers me a bit, and I don't know if I would order it regularly- I prefer to choose meat from local farms that I am 100% sure has been humanely raised and slaughtered, I will not eat veal, and I usually pass up the fois gras on principle- but I have to admit that L's dish was handled and cooked beautifully, and it really was incredibly tasty. I do see why some chefs will fight tooth and nail for the right to serve it! As for my dish, the oysters were plump and juicy, coated with a very thin, crisp tempura-like batter, fried to perfection, and served very hot atop a small, refreshing microgreen salad dressed with a foamy vinaigrette.

For the second course, we both chose the Timballo, which came with a light red 2005 J. Hofstatter Pinot Nero “Mezcan”. When I looked at the menu the day before- yes, I am that kind of food freak- I was wavering between that and the risotto with clams on the original menu, but since the clams had bowed out for the evening, it was an easy choice.

If you've never seen Big Night, you should run out and (at least) rent it this instant, and you will know why we both picked the timballo! Chef Ziskin's recipe didn't seem quite as complicated as the version in the movie, though it was clear that it took a lot of work to make. The pastry dough encasing each individual timballo, which resembled muffin-shaped, sealed meat pies, was sweet but surprisingly complementary, though it was a bit on the dry side; this could have been remedied by the addition of a bit more tasty bolognese- we found only trace amounts of the deliciously rich, fresh sauce in both timballos. Generously-sized pieces of braised meat and fabulous homemade pasta, however, were wonderfully flavoured, tender, and cooked with interesting spices that neither of us could identify. I loved the light and airy texture of the tiny, beautifully pan-fried meatballs, though L sweetly insisted that he prefers the meatballs that I make at home. They're also tiny, but unlike these, mine contain enough crushed garlic to kill a small mammal, and L swears they taste just like his Italian grandmother's meatballs.

Feeling quite full at this point, we were nevertheless served our third course with a lush red 2000 Colle Dei Venti Barolo- L had the Wood-Oven-Roasted Lamb Sirloin (with braised lamb and pecorino arroncino) and I chose the Pheasant Breast Stuffed with Fennel Sausage and Cavolo Nero (with foie gras and chestnut budino, pheasant and vin santo sugo with kumquat syrup). The lamb was impeccable, with a gorgeous, herbed, woodsmoke flavour that had me- the one person in the world who doesn't like the taste of lamb- happily accepting forkful after forkful. We both agreed that the hot pepper stuffed full of tender, succulent braised lamb was wonderfully flavoured with a great spicy zing, and L was thrilled that the lamb steak was served on the rare side of medium-rare, which is exactly what he thinks medium-rare should be. The pheasant was very juicy and flavourful, topped with its own addictively crisp, savoury skin and a delicious lashing of sweet-tart candied kumquat sauce, and stuffed with a moist, tasty mixture of greens, ground pheasant and fois gras. It was accompanied by a fluffy, custardy chestnut budino, or bread pudding- happily, some crusts were in the mix- that won us both over immediately.

For our dessert course, I wasn't up for anything more than the airy, tart, and sweet Trio di Sorbetti- prickly pear, white peach, and mixed berry sorbets served with fresh berries and a few small biscotti. Somehow, full as I was, it was so refreshing that I ended up eating the entire serving! L went the somewhat light route too, and had a luscious lightly-Baked Apple with a nice caramel sauce and toasted almonds. Desserts were served with a sweet, heady, floral '05 Moscato...

During dessert, out came the party hats, honkers and tiny streamer-firing crackers, and, of course, a dry, fizzy Prosecco for toasting! When midnight arrived, the two of us and two other couples remaining in the ground floor dining room were invited to troop upstairs to the small second floor dining room with the chef, waitstaff, and bar/kitchen crew for a loud and raucous toast (the ONLY way to toast, in my opinion) with the remaining diners, who had already begun to happily belt out all kinds of New Years songs!

After midnight, Chef Ziskin was out and about, pouring Prosecco left and right, and, when I managed to catch him to thank him for yet another fabulous meal, he was nice enough to share the recipe for the parsnip soup (score!). He probably thought I was nuts, but I guess I was feeling a bit bold after all that wine! In any case, he indulged me, which was very kind. The soup turned out to be stunningly easy, which just goes to show that simple dishes are also often the best. I wrote down the recipe as soon as I got home, so I'll be experimenting with it- hopefully I remembered everything correctly- and I'll post it once I've got the flavour and texture right. I could eat huge bowls of that soup each and every cold winter night.

Thanks to Chef Ziskin and his staff, L and I ended the night stuffed full of amazing food, excitedly gabbing about why we love La Morra so much and how we need to go back more often, and happy to start the new year on such a high note.

In fact, we enjoyed ourselves so much that we're going back on January 13th for a 5-course homemade pasta dinner! I'm definitely excited!

Happy New Year!

2008-01-01T20:05:00.001-05:00

I do think New Year's resolutions can't technically be expected to begin on New Year's Day, don't you? Since, because it's an extension of New Year's Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Year's Day isn't a good idea as you can't eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second.

-Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones's Diary

With warmest wishes for a hangover-free,
happy, healthy, plentiful and peaceful new year. Welcome 2008!

С новым годом!
C пожеланиями на замечательный 2008!

Ina Garten's Vegetable Pot Pie

2007-12-28T02:00:00.001-05:00

L, Argos and I have had a blissful week of vacation, in which we've had good, relaxing fun with friends and family, slept ridiculously late, and experimented with new dishes.

I've been itching to try recipes that are a bit more time-consuming, or at least more unusual, than our regular weekday fare, and L's mom gave me inspiration in the form of a copy of Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Parties! cookbook for Christmas. I love the Barefoot Contessa cookbooks- her recipes taste fabulous, and they always come out beautifully on the first try.

Last night, we tackled Ina's recipe for Vegetable Pot Pie. We both grew up eating very little in the way of classic American dishes, and neither of us have tried pot pie in any form, so I was really intrigued by this recipe.

My original idea was to make something meatless and chock full of nutritious vegetables, since we've been eating so much rich holiday food lately; however, I soon discovered that this pot pie contains a stunning amount of butter, so the idea that we were making something really healthy quickly went out the window. I did feel a bit better about everything when I realised that we'd added enough vegetables to at least triple the recipe- we ended up with one giant pot pie that completely filled our 6 3/4 quart Le Creuset wide dutch oven, leaving just enough room for the thick crust (eek!).

As we used only what we have on hand from our winter farm share, we omitted the asparagus and increased the amounts of all other vegetables in the original recipe to somewhere between 2-3 cups each. To that, we added approximately 2-3 cups each sliced leeks and roughly chopped celeriac, rutabagas, and parsnips. I doubled all sauce ingredients except the butter, and I also forgot to add the cream, but it worked out beautifully and was rich enough without, so I think I'll omit the cream and decrease the butter in the sauce from now on.

Since we made one large pot pie, I baked it for an hour and 20 minutes, covering the crust halfway through baking (for about 20 minutes total) with aluminum foil to prevent over-browning. A cookie sheet, placed under the oven rack to catch errant sauce drips, helped tremendously with cleanup.

While this vegetable pot pie is time consuming (especially in the vegetable prep department) and rich enough that I wouldn't make it every weekend, we were both very pleased with the results. The vegetables were tender without being mushy, and I was happy to discover that they retained their distinct textures and flavours, despite being cooked together for so long. The sauce was wonderfully thick, velvety and satisfyingly savoury without being overly floury, and the pastry crust was a beautiful golden brown on top, airy and tender underneath, and thick enough to provide a foil for the tender vegetables.

Overall, we both agreed that this was a success- a very comforting and satisfying winter dish!

Scottish Pies

2007-12-27T04:20:00.001-05:00

I love this!

Christmas Eve

2007-12-24T22:14:00.001-05:00

"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?" -Theodor Seuss Geisel (Dr. Seuss)

Today, in true Czech style, so that we might see a zlaté prasátko (golden pig), we will eat nothing and drink only tea until we enjoy a big Christmas Eve dinner. Some Czechs just avoid meat during the day, but this year we're going whole hog (har har)- or at least attempting to- in order to see what happens!

When we were younger, my sister and I swore that it was only the hunger hallucinations that produced golden pigs, and perhaps we were more correct than we knew! Despite the fact that she and I thought it all very silly at the time, I've come to appreciate just how comforting family traditions can be, especially around the holidays.

In the early evening, we will head to L's parent's home for a big family gathering and the celebratory Feast of the Seven Fishes- since they're simplifying things this year, it will be stuffed squid and homemade pizza, and, as always, an array of fabulous desserts. To me, it's not really Christmas without a big celebration on December 24th, so I am thrilled that we'll be able to take part in the Italian festivities this year.

Late tonight, we come home with the puppers to open a few presents in honour of Czech Christmas. We'll end the night very late, with the most decadent hot chocolate we can concoct and my favourite Christmas movie: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! Then, it's off to bed so that Santa has a chance to deposit the rest of the presents under the tree (I'd better set my alarm clock for early that morning so I have a chance to... erm... help Santa out)!

To my family and anyone who will celebrate Christmas tonight: Veselé Vánoce! I wish you all a very warm and merry holiday!

Baked French Toast

2007-12-23T17:52:00.001-05:00

Due to a happy set of circumstances this year, we were lucky enough to spend many of our weekends with friends. When our lives get really busy, it's easy to forget how comforting and rejuvenating it is to share long, leisurely meals with good friends; I especially love breakfasts, with everyone in cozy pajamas and robes, rumpled hair (sometimes sticking out at all angles, or in my case, long and tangled), steaming mugs of coffee and tea warming cold hands, and a satisfying meal to start the day.

When we have house guests, I like to minimize the amount of energy-intensive breakfast cooking we do in the mornings by relying on dishes that can be assembled the night before: sweet bread puddings, savoury stratas, and conventional recipes that have been tweaked to make sleepy mornings just a bit less hectic. If you've got house guests this holiday season, it's a great time to fall back on something this simple for breakfast.

One dish that has been particularly successful in our house is a recipe for Baked French Toast that I found in The Gourmet Cookbook. We love to make it with challah or brioche, and since both types of bread come most often in large, thick loaves, I increase the amount of custard by at least 50% to ensure that there is enough liquid to moisten every slice of bread. I especially love it when a few edges get a bit toasted and caramelized!

Like its pan-cooked sibling, baked french toast is fabulous served with just about anything: maple syrup, fresh berries, sugar and lemon juice, Nutella, or any kind of jam (I highly recommend Damson Plum and Sweet Crabapple Preserves). A heaping platter of bacon served alongside never hurts, either.

Winter Solstice

2007-12-22T00:54:00.001-05:00

So the shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive,
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, reveling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - Listen!!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, fest, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!!

- Susan Cooper, The Shortest Day

Menu for Hope 4

2007-12-18T11:28:00.001-05:00

I know I'm a bit late to the party, but while there's still time to donate, I wanted to throw in a quick post about the Menu for Hope 4 campaign going on over at Chez Pim.

In the interest of making this short and sweet, I'll cut and paste some basic info from the lovely Pim's site so you can learn more (see below)!

Happily, you still have time to donate to a great cause, and you'll have a chance at some of those wonderful, generous treats- you have until December 21 (this Friday) to buy tickets, and the results will be announced on Wednesday, January 9, 2008 at Chez Pim.

In this world of plentiful food for the lucky and so little- sometimes nothing at all- for so, so many more, no one should have to go hungry.

What are you waiting for?

----------------------------------------------------------
(from chezpim.com)

What is Menu for Hope?

Menu for Hope is an annual fundraising event in support of the UN World Food Programme. Five years ago, the devastating tsunami in Southeast Asia inspired me to find a way to help, and the very first Menu for Hope was born. In 2006, Menu for Hope raised US$60,925.12 to help the UN World Food Programme feed the hungry.

Each year, food bloggers from all over the world join forces to host the Menu for Hope online raffle, offering an array of delectable culinary prizes. For every US$10, the donor receive a virtual raffle ticket toward a prize of their choice. This year, the prizes include once in a lifetime experiences such as touring the elBulli laboratory with Ferran AdriÃ , dining on a historic British meal prepared by Heston Blumenthal, or joining Harold McGee on a lunch date to satisfy a lifetime's worth of cooking curiosity. You can also tag along with your favorite blogger on a tour of their favorite markets, restaurants, or even receive a care package fashioned especially for you from your favorite bloggers themselves. All you need is $10 and a bit of luck.

We may never eradicate hunger from the face of the earth, but why should that stop us from trying?

Who benefits from Menu for Hope 4?

This year for the 4th annual Menu for Hope, we are again supporting the UN World Food Programme. WFP is the worldâs largest food aid agency, working with over 1,000 other organizations in over 75 countries. In addition to providing food, the World Food Program helps hungry people to become self-reliant so that they escape hunger for good.

With a special permission from the WFP, the funds raised by Menu for Hope 4 will be earmarked for the school lunch program in Lesotho, Africa. We chose to support the school lunch program because providing food for the children not only keeps them alive, but helps them stay in school so that they learn the skills to feed themselves in the future.

We chose to support the program in Lesotho because it is a model program in local procurement - buying food locally to support local farmers and the local economy. Instead of shipping surplus corn across the ocean, the WFP is buying directly from local subsistent farmers who practice conservation farming methods in Lesotho to feed the children there.

We feed the kids, keep them in school, and support their parents and community farming. This sustainable approach to aid is something we believe in and strongly support.

Christmas Cookies: New England Molasses Gingerbread Cookies

2007-12-16T23:16:00.003-05:00

I absolutely despise molasses (no shoofly pie for me, thanks), but for some reason, when the strong molasses flavour is tempered by aromatic spices and the gentle heat of ginger, as it is in gingerbread, I'm in heaven.

I think this has quite a lot to do with my paternal grandmother. When I was a child, my Bohemian babička, or Czech grandmother, and her Czech friends would get together in their Chicago kitchens during the holiday season, and together they would bake and decorate amazingly delectable, incredibly gorgeous perniky, or Czech gingerbread cookies. The icing was always pure, snowy white, and if I was lucky, I'd find tiny silver nonpareils sprinkled strategically over the lines and swirls of icing.

At the end of November, the perniky would arrive at our house, carefully packed between layers of pristine white tissue paper, in a wide, flat, white pâtisserie pastry box beautifully tied up with twine. For some reason, my grandmother used only twine- never, ever scotch tape- when she wrapped gifts. I've never got the hang of that particular skill.

Once I knew the cookies had arrived, I'd beg and plead with my mother, but to no avail- I was allowed only one cookie each day leading up to Christmas Eve- the day Czechs celebrate Christmas. At the time, I thought it supremely unreasonable, but now that I've learned how much work really goes into decorated cookies, I understand her thinking. Treats this time-consuming to make should be savoured slowly and appreciatively, even by greedy five-year-olds!

For some stupid reason, I never thought to ask for the perniky recipe while my grandmother was alive- perhaps they do taste better when made with mysterious ingredients by a grandma- and I've been looking for a comparable recipe ever since she passed away. Even more frustrating is the fact that I have a book of her recipes that was discovered by my father and given to me last Christmas, but so far I haven't been able to find her gingerbread cookies amid the pages and pages of recipes written in her tiny, perfectly elegant script.

Luckily, while browsing online collections of Christmas cookie recipes in November, I came across Bon Appétit's recipe for New England Molasses Gingerbread Cookies and saw that a few reviewers likened them to traditional German Pfeffernüsse and Lebkuchen. I knew at once that this recipe would be a good place to start.

The dough was soft and a bit tricky to work with, but it was also fairly forgiving and much easier to handle when I worked in small amounts, leaving the rest to chill in the 'fridge. I used regular (not robust or blackstrap) molasses, doubled the spices, and added a few good shakes (probably about a teaspoon each) of allspice and nutmeg to the mix. I also used Dorie Greenspan's Royal Icing recipe, which immediately became my new favourite- the icing was incredibly easy to pipe smoothly, stayed pliable in the pastry bag for at least a few hours, and hardened to a gorgeously snowy white, durable, faintly citrus finish with just the right amount of sweetness.

I used a few favourite cookie cutter shapes, including the traditional lucky Czech zlaté prasátko (golden Christmas pig) in two different sizes: medium-sized 2-3 inch and tiny 1-inch diameter. Decorating them took a long time, but once you get into a rhythm, everything goes quickly and smoothly (though I did have to take breaks to stretch out my arms and hands). Having a glass of wine on hand definitely helps, too.

The day I baked them, the gingerbread cookies were crisp and tasty, with a lovely blend of spices that intensified after the first bite. I was happy with them, but admitted to myself that something was missing- they weren't quite what I remembered. As most gingerbread needs a bit of time to improve, however, I hoped that these might as well, and I was not disappointed. A few days later, they had softened considerably to a more cake-like crumb, the spices noticeably more intense and complex- a flavour, when mingled with the sweet crunch of the icing, very, very much like my grandmother's perniky. I have rediscovered my childhood addiction, and in case you can't tell, these are the Christmas cookies of which I am most proud!

I've since found Czech gingerbread recipes online that include rum, coffee, honey, and ground spices like mace, star anise, aniseed, black pepper and coriander. I'm tempted to give other combinations a try, but am thrilled that I have a solid recipe to rely on each year! I suspect they'll never be quite as perfect as they are in my memories, but isn't that always the case?

Christmas Cookies: Pecan Fingers

2007-12-13T20:51:00.002-05:00

Christmas is that time of year when we, like so many other people, pull out all the stops when it comes to sweets. Into cookies and cakes go dark, rich Valrhona and Ghirardelli chocolate bars and cocoa powder, fragrant roasted nuts, shiny glaceed fruits, sticky sweet dates and dried figs, glittering candied citrus peel, spicy crystallized ginger, syrupy-thick molasses, local wildflower honey, Madagascar Bourbon vanilla, vibrantly yellow farm eggs (so tasty that we won't buy anything else), creamy, rich bars of European-style butter, butter and more butter...

In spite of my adoration for all these luscious ingredients, we don't often eat desserts at home, save the few times throughout the year when I get the urge to bake. I certainly can bake reasonably well (i.e. I can follow instructions of well-written recipes), but I have to be in a baking mood to really enjoy it.

Our friend Ida, on the other hand, is absolutely, positively, without a doubt a baking queen. She's an amazing, intuitive baker, and I am in love with her strawberry cheesecake (best made, it turns out, with a cocktail in hand) and carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. When we're lucky, she sends us home with sweets, but alas, it's always too dark to get decent pictures, and the yummy goodness is always gone in a flash anyway.

In any case, I do get the urge to bake like mad during the Christmas season. Spicy, citrusy, chocolaty- whatever the flavour, intense sweet aromas waft through the warm house. There is something so comforting about a warm kitchen full of tempting scents. Happily, I still have the energy for some intense cookie baking, so last night, I tested my fourth Christmas cookie recipe: Pecan Fingers or Puckle Warts.

When I was forming the pecan fingers, I couldn't help but notice that they looked more like shiny, pecan-studded baby... well, I won't say it. It's a bit gross, albeit somewhat amusing. I guess I'm not that good at forming cookies into appetizing log shapes. Is that even possible? Anyone?

With all that butter, too, I wondered how the cookies would hold up to being rolled between warm hands and baked in the oven for such a long time. Is one inch of space between the cookies really enough? Would they spread out too much? I'm glad to report that they came out exactly as described in the recipe, partially due, I am sure, to the long chilling time (I chilled them overnight out of necessity) and low, low baking heat.

The Pecan Fingers turned out to be absolutely, wonderfully addictive- oh my goodness, they are that good- with a light, shortbread-like buttery texture, fabulous honey undercurrent, nutty crunch that complements the crisp dough quite nicely, and a lingering sweetness from the double dustings of light, powdery confectioner's sugar. The dough is very easy to mix up, too- especially so if you have any kind of electric mixer.

The flame-coloured Le Creuset terrine mold my mom gave me a few years ago (I got lucky here- she was given two at her 1972 wedding to my father!), lined with a bit of waxed paper and clingfilm, is a perfectly-sized storage container for a few cookies short of one full batch- a convenient excuse for some taste testing, no?

I'm thrilled with another very successful recipe, and am very glad that, once again, Epicurious reviewers came through with reliable ratings and advice!

Christmas Cookies: Mint Chocolate Cookies

2007-12-10T13:55:00.004-05:00

As you may have noticed, I often rely on recipes. Sometimes I tweak them until I feel like they've really become quite a bit more mine, if that makes sense, with grateful thanks to the person who provided the original recipe and a solid a jumping-off point. Other times, I end up adoring recipes as they are, perhaps with a few minor changes or additions, and I just want to tell everyone about this great! new! recipe! that I've found.

Not very original in the end, perhaps, but I'm finding that this blog has turned into a great way to share recipes with friends, as well as document my own experiments and newly discovered favourites for myself, too.

On that note, I discovered a few great Christmas cookie recipes this weekend. I printed out a pile of choices earlier in the week, and on Saturday morning L and I narrowed down the list to six recipes we wanted to try the most and headed out to buy extra whole wheat flour (it's always King Arthur flour in this house), molasses, confectioner's sugar and peppermint extract.

First, I made another batch of the Molasses Crinkles, since the first batch has been flying out of the cookie tin; then, I mixed up a batch of Mint Chocolate Cookies from the December 2000 volume of Bon Appétit.

The Mint Chocolate Cookies are soft and rich, and the light cocoa crumb and fabulous, clear peppermint note are reminiscent of Girl Scout cookie Thin Mints. I increased the peppermint extract to 3 teaspoons (1 tablespoon) and drizzled the cooled cookies with melted bittersweet chocolate, which took about 2 hours to cool and harden. They were a bit crumbly the day I baked them, but since then they have taken on a bit more brownie-like moisture. Some reviewers recommend cutting out 1/2 cup of the flour, and while the cookies are fabulous as is, I might give that a try with the next batch to see if they get even better!

O Christmas Tree!

2007-12-08T23:08:00.001-05:00

Every year, L and I have the same argument: he wants a short, small Christmas tree, and I want a gigantic, towering, fat one. As with all our arguments I'm in the right, of course (wink!)- after all, what's the point of having a tree if you're not going to go all out? I know there's the issue of the tree actually fitting through the front door, but in my mind, it's to-hell-with-logic! on this one.

Unfortunately for me, our apartment most decidedly isn't the same as a huge house well-suited to enormous Christmas trees, and I have to help carry the tree up the long flight of switchback stairs leading from our front door/small foyer to the rest of the apartment, so I let a little of L's common sense take over. This year, our compromise was to get a tall (8.5 foot), nicely tapered, relatively slender fir tree. I don't know why we haven't gone this route before (surely it can't be my own stubbornness!)- the best spot for the tree isn't terribly large circumference-wise, but we do have high 1920s ceilings, so this solution is a perfect fit.

We tried something new in the species realm, too, and went for a Fraser Fir (Abies fraseri) instead of our usual Balsam or Douglas Fir. The branches feel very strong, and in daylight the needles have a lovely silvery-blue sheen. We were told that the Fraser Fir isn't as fragrant as other firs, but I don't know if I believe it- this tree gives off a gorgeously clean, piney fragrance that wafts all the way to the front door.

When we graduated college and moved in together, we didn't have any Christmas ornaments to speak of, and with the vast array of choices out there, I couldn't decide which new ones I'd be sure to like both now and down the road. Both of our families have boxes of sentimental-value ornaments that have been collected over the years, too, and somehow it seemed so fake to put a whole slew of shiny new decorations, bought solely because we couldn't think of anything else to use, on our tree.

I'm not sure where I got this idea, but in the middle of this internal debate, I decided I'd decorate the tree with origami cranes-both individually strung and in garlands- and perhaps slowly start collecting other ornaments for future use, too. Well, that was four Christmases ago, and I ended up adoring the cranes so much that I haven't given a moment's thought to buying anything else!

I'm not at 1,000 cranes yet, but I'm sure I'll get there soon at this rate- I'm now addicted to the small packages of lovely origami papers we find at a local Japanese housewares shop next door to our favourite- of 11 years, no less- lunch café, where it's always gyudon for me and yakidon (spicy beef bowl) for L. Actually, that reminds me that we haven't been there in a few weeks, and I'm ready to make a few more cranes before our holiday vacation sneaks up on us! What could be better than yummy takeout and a stack of fresh, crisp origami papers?

Christmas Cookies: Molasses Crinkles

2007-12-03T23:43:00.002-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I've had a close fondness for the Czech Christmas cookies I grew up eating from the beginning of December through New Years Eve and into January. I'm sure it's partially due to the fabulous cookies themselves, and part warm and fuzzy attachment to familiar, comforting traditions.

Every year at the end of November, heavy balls of both pale and dark doughs, wrapped tightly in waxed paper, pile up in the fridge; during weekends, the sweet smells of beautiful, delicious, and always tiny cookies and confections waft through the house.

There are always many different flavours and cookie types to savour, though the yearly lineup, specific to each family and passed down through generations of Czech women, generally remains the same in each household. Of course, I've always particularly loved the sweets that appear on my family's cookie platters: confections like crumbly, cocoa-brown Bear Paws dotted with crunchy walnuts, moist Almond Baskets brimming with sticky, nutty filling, sugary Beehives piped full of fluffy pastry cream, potent rum-spiked Chocolate Balls, thin Fig Salami slices peppered with dried figs and glaceed fruits, and my absolute favourites: Linecke Kolačky, which are very much like Linzer cookies, filled with a thin, sparkling layer of raspberry jam and glistening with a shiny, egg-washed surface.

To me, Christmas is not the same without those Czech cookies. But, in the interest of expanding my own repertoire, I am always looking for outstanding additions to the usual lineup. This year, I turned to one of my favourite sources: Epicurious. I am always drawn to the collections of cookie recipes that Gourmet and Bon Appétit magazines publish each winter, even though I know, in reality, that I will never find time to test all of the recipes I drool over each November.

I do, however, manage to narrow down my long, unmanageable dream list and try a few recipes, and last night I made my first test batch of Christmas cookies: Molasses Crinkles from the December 2004 volume of Gourmet. Because I, like my mom, absolutely love ginger in all forms, I took the advice of a few reviewers: I doubled the amount of ground ginger and added 1/2 cup of chopped crystallized ginger to the dough. I also baked the cookies for 9 minutes total- at 10 minutes, the cookies wavered between chewy and very crisp, depending on how soon I was able to get to the oven after the timer beeped.

Just as I'd hoped, these treats completely satisfy my ginger cookie cravings, and L and I were both really happy with how well the recipe turned out on the first try. I'll be surprised if this batch lasts more than a week! The cookies have a chewy center and crisp edges- the effect you typically get when you add butter and vegetable shortening to cookie dough- a great spiced ginger heat, and a delicious crackly sugar surface (L loves a crunchy sprinkling of sugar on baked goods, so I knew this aspect would really appeal to him). Molasses Crinkles are definitely going in my permanent Christmas recipe collection!

Basic Tomato Sauce

2007-11-30T16:31:00.004-05:00

Making tomato sauce from scratch is almost as easy as boiling water, and we think it tastes better than anything you can buy in a jar. It's surprisingly economical, too.

Hot cocoa aside (made with Chocolate Malt Ovaltine, which I still love), this tomato sauce was the first thing I cooked entirely on my own from start to finish. I was 7 years old, or thereabouts, when I discovered the recipe in The Classic Italian Cookbook by Marcella Hazan, and my wonderfully patient, indulgent mom ate many, "I want to cook tonight!" pasta-and-sauce suppers once I learned to make it reasonably well.

I must point out here that I absolutely, positively love Marcella Hazan. When I was a child, she made me feel completely at ease in the kitchen; as an adult, I've learned to rely on her for recipes which actually work (if you've had seemingly manageable recipes fail miserably, you'll know how comforting this is) and taste fabulous each and every time.

I still make this sauce, though L has mostly taken over the process, and we've made a few small changes along the way. To make things easier, and because the quality of fresh tomatoes can vary wildly, we take Marcella's advice and rely on San Marzano canned tomatoes, which are reliably consistent in taste and texture.

If you're making the sauce for pasta, toss pasta and sauce in a warm bowl as soon as the pasta is done. If you're making this sauce for pizza, spread a thin layer over the dough and top as you like. Of course, you can also use this in any recipe that calls for tomato sauce. For a change of pace, stir in a few tablespoons of chopped basil leaves for a bright, fresh taste that's fabulous on pizza, or add 1/4 cup heavy cream for a decadent sauce that is especially good over stuffed pasta. Add these additional ingredients as soon as you take the finished sauce off the heat.

Once you've tried it, it will come as no surprise that this has always been one of my very favourite recipes.

Basic Tomato Sauce
Adapted from The Classic Italian Cookbook by Marcella Hazan

1 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes
2 medium yellow onions, sliced or chopped as you wish*
2 tablespoons unsalted butter or extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt to taste (this will depend on the saltiness of your tomatoes)
Pinch of sugar**

Pour tomatoes, onions, and sugar into a nonreactive pot. Bring the mixture to a simmer, then cover the pot and continue to simmer, stirring occasionally to prevent burning, until the onions are soft (usually 40-45 minutes).

Uncover the sauce and stir in the butter or olive oil. Taste and correct for salt, then simmer uncovered for another 10 minutes. Use as you wish.

* If you want to keep the onions in the sauce, finely dice or roughly chop them. If you prefer to discard them (per the original recipe), cut the whole onions into halves, simmer them in the sauce, and remove when the sauce is done.

** Thank you, Lesha!

Baked Brie with Caramelized Onions + Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-21T20:03:00.002-05:00

Well, it seems that my plans for posting Thanksgiving recipes were soundly thwarted by this nasty cold, which seems to be lingering far longer than winter sickness usually does. It's going away veeerrry slowly and so far is keeping me from getting a good night's rest, which means that I'm having trouble thinking coherently about cooking and parties and holiday fun.

This week, my thoughts have been more along the lines of, "why can't I sleep... I really just want to sleep... must blow nose again... owch, nose is so raw... why can't we have nicer tissues at work... how many more mugs of tea and soup can I handle before I break down and go searching for some really good French fries... milkshakes are good for sore throats, right?... urg, brain hurts, must lie down..."

The good news is that we hard our first lovely, gently swirling snowfall of the season a few days ago, which lifted my spirits considerably, despite the fact that the snowflakes didn't actually stick to anything!

I can, however, manage to post one recipe that I love to make during the holidays: baked brie with caramelized onions. It's a perfectly balanced, velvety mix of warm, creamy brie and savoury-sweet, intensely flavoured onions. Without fail, it gets rave reviews; everyone always wants the recipe, and whenever we ask what to bring to the next party, the answer always seems to be, "the baked brie!"

We'll bring the baked brie to the feast at L's parents' house, along with some fabulous olives from Provence that may or may not be made into tapenade tomorrow morning. We usually try to bring more dishes to share, but since we're both sick and brain dead, I'm glad that we made it this far, and I'm especially thankful that we both have Friday off from work!

Clearly, I didn't create this recipe, though as always I tweak it a bit. I use a little less than one 750 ml bottle of white wine, adding it in 1/2 cup increments to deglaze every 10 minutes or so. I go through this cycle a few times, at least, while the onions get darker and more fragrant. I also cook the onions at medium heat for 45 minutes to an hour, until they are soft, salty-sweet, caramel-brown and and wonderfully sticky. In any case, you can't go wrong by following the recipe to the letter, either- this will still be one of the best appetizers you'll ever eat.

Next year, barring any similarly nasty colds, I'll have more recipes to post. This year, I wish everyone happiness, good food, long walks and warm company. Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Planning

2007-11-15T13:45:00.001-05:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted anything! Work has been particularly exhausting, daylight hours are short (I need to learn more about indoor photography pronto!), and it's dark and stormy out at least once a week. On top of all that, L and I are both at home today with rain spattering hard against the windows, steaming mugs of tea (Plantation Mint for him, Twinings Prince of Wales for me), a very warm and snuggly pup, and some kind of nasty flu. Clearly, life is trying to kick my ass right now.

The good news is that quiet days like this inspire me to get ready for upcoming holidays! With that in mind, I've spent some time this month poking through a few reliable sources for Thanksgiving inspiration.

The New York Times has an entire food section devoted to Thanksgiving dining. If you haven't already, I recommend taking a minute to sign up for login privileges- it's free, the Dining and Wine section is often a good read, and they don't fill up your inbox with annoying messages. This week's Thanksgiving articles are at best insightful and inspiring (mashed potatoes aren't as complicated as some people like to think and save-the-day vegetarian entrees- see column on the right for recipes), and at worst interesting breakfast reading (As Six Turkeys Tussle for a Title, Degrees Challenge Pedigrees).

As always, the Epicurious Complete Thanksgiving Guide and the Food Network's Thanksgiving section are both great resources, especially if you have time to read recipe reviews, though I don't recommend bothering with the "I substituted grapefruit juice for the wine, collard greens for the turkey, peppermint extract for the herbs and baking soda for the shallots, and it came out awful. This recipe is terrible" type reviews. As you might imagine, they're not terribly helpful, though I'll admit that they are often highly amusing!

And of course, the usual blogging suspects have started posting holiday recipes left and right (don't vegan pumpkin whoopie pies sound good?). I'd bet good money that they've been tested and retested, tried out on friends and critiqued in comments sections by devoted readers, so you know they'll be stars at your Thanksgiving (and/or holiday) table!

If you're interested in learning about how Thanksgiving celebrations have evolved, I recommend reading Giving Thanks by Kathleen Curtin and Sandra L. Oliver. Kathleen Curtin is the resident food historian at Plimoth Plantation in Plymouth, Massachusetts (what a cool job, eh?!) , and the book profiles the recipes and history of Thanksgiving from the first celebration to present day traditions.

I'll be narrowing down my list of recipes and making grocery lists soon, and I'm sure that at least some of you will be doing the same. I'll try to post some of my own recipe suggestions and reviews soon!

Peanut Butter Dog Cookies

2007-11-05T18:44:00.002-05:00

Some of you, or perhaps many of you, will remember the pet food scare the US experienced over the summer. The Science Diet and Evo foods that we give our pup Argos never appeared on the recall list, for which we were grateful and relieved. Even though our household was lucky enough to make it through the summer without incident, since then we've been extra careful about everything we give him.

I've made special-occasion meals for Argos before*, but for some reason, I'd never made everyday treats for him until last Sunday evening. We'd run out of his usual Science Diet biscuits without realizing it, and neither of us had the energy to run out for more. We had a jar of peanut butter in the pantry, which is odd, because L and I generally loathe peanut butter (our friend I's peanut butter cookies being the delicious exception). In any case, I realised that homemade dog treats would be a good way to simultaneously please us by using up the peanut butter, and thrill Argos by giving it all to him!

I found a few recipes online, but didn't love the sound of anything in particular, so I experimented with a few different recipes until I hit on a combination that satisfied all three of us. Yep, for the sake of learning something about experimental baking, L and I suffered through enough peanut butter to taste each batch between tweakings! Since our dog will eat, literally, just about anything- large chunks of wasabi and ice cubes included- I wanted to be sure that we turned out something more than a dry, faintly-flavoured cracker.

If you can turn on your oven, you can make these. I'm not always great with doughs that require a rolling pin, though for the first time in my life I seem to be improving on that front, which is why I haven't yet gotten around to buying cookie cutters. However, if I can make these, so can you. I used a small cordial glass to cut these out, and it worked beautifully; if you have a larger dog, you can certainly use a bigger glass or cookie cutter.

L's mom makes dog biscuits for Argos all the time, and he absolutely loves them. I don't know why we didn't try this earlier- they're very easy to make, surprisingly economical, dogs love peanut butter, and it's comforting that I can control exactly what goes into the pup's treats. These cookies have a fairly moist crumb, too, so if you have a small dog, you can easily break them apart for training purposes.

Argos' Peanut Butter Cookies
makes appx. 150 (1-inch) treats

2 cups whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 cup natural chunky peanut butter
2 large eggs
1/2 cup skim milk or chicken broth

1 large egg, beaten well (for egg wash)

Preheat your oven to 375'F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

In a standing mixer or large bowl, beat two eggs and peanut butter until well mixed. Add milk or broth and beat for 30 seconds.

In another bowl, sift together flour and baking powder. With mixer running or while stirring, add flour and baking powder mixture to wet ingredients in 1/2 cup increments until well incorporated.

On floured surface, turn out the dough. Roll out to 1/4" thick. Cut out using cookie cutters or a sturdy drinking glass. Place on baking sheets and brush with egg wash.

Bake for 20-25 minutes or until lightly browned. Place on racks to cool, then store in airtight containers.

These can spoil quickly, so it's a good idea to keep most of them in the freezer, taking out handfuls (or bowlfuls) to thaw as you need them.

* Since proper dog nutrition is a tricky business, I would not recommend switching your dog to a fully-homemade diet until you've consulted a canine nutritionist and/or other trusted sources.

Clothilde Dusoulier's Carbonades Flamandes/Flemish Carbonades

2007-11-01T23:17:00.001-04:00

When you have invited company over for a meal, the weather is crisp and cool, and you don't want to be running around like a crazy person the day of the party, repeat after me: braises are your friends.

Braises, which tenderize meat through slow, gentle cooking in liquid, call for inexpensive and flavourful cuts of meat, are really hard to screw up (no fiddly timing or techniques), provide vegetables, protein and luscious sauce all in one pot, improve overnight, and please everyone at the table.

An earlier date in October marked L's parents' 35th wedding anniversary, so of course we invited them over for a celebratory dinner. Deciding what to make for a dinner like this inevitably leads me to internal struggle... do I go with something safe and perhaps a bit ordinary, or gamble on something new and both potentially fabulous and potentially a disastrous failure?

Thankfully, I found a solution. After flipping through a few cookbooks, I settled on Clotilde Dusoulier's recipe for Carbonades Flamandes/Flemish Carbonades for the main course (you can read an interesting history of carbonades at her blog, Chocolate & Zucchini). We all love its southern cousin, boeuf bourguignon, and braises are very easy to tweak and equally tough to ruin, so I thought that this, with cups and cups of caramelized onions and Belgian amber ale, was a perfect fall version of sorts.

When we bought the stew beef, we purchased chuck blade steaks and asked the butcher to cut them into stewing cubes, to make sure that the meat we would be eating had stayed as fresh as possible for as long as possible. Since I very firmly believe that braises taste even better the day after they're made, I made the carbonades the night before, and I'm surprised that we didn't devour the entire contents of the pot that evening! For three hours, divine smells swirled through the house, the dog sniffed hopefully with his nose high in the air*, and every few minutes I found myself wanting yet another taste- strictly for testing purposes, of course.

Carbonades is traditionally served with pommes frites, so to save time and sanity, I served it with crispy oven-roasted potatoes, which turned out to be an equally delicious complement. Alongside roasted root vegetables (can you tell I was in a roasting mood?!), an arugula, walnut and blue cheese salad, an assortment of Belgian ales and raspberry lambic to drink, and a caramel apple cake for dessert, we had a fabulous, satisfying autumn meal.

One of the best aspects of this party was that we were able to do the vegetable prep, carbonades cooking and cake baking the day before, giving me the chance to spend time with everyone and actually enjoy the day of the meal!

The carbonades itself turned out spectacular- the meat was so tender that we hardly needed knives, the sauce was unctuous and velvety, and everyone had seconds. A few of us even had thirds! I'm always thrilled to find recipes that turn out so scrumptious on the first try- thank you, Clothilde!

* For the record, the pup really, really liked this dish... not that we gave him a small bowlful or anything.

Hallowe'en Night

2007-10-31T21:00:00.001-04:00

A perfect night for a dark n' stormy!

Red Sox!

2007-10-29T00:10:00.000-04:00

Go Sox!!!

Crispy Oven-roasted Potatoes

2007-10-25T21:43:00.001-04:00

"What I say is that, if a fellow really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow." A. A. Milne (1882-1956)

Everyone has a few odd food preferences, myself included. My mom introduced me to the joys of bread with chocolate, something that usually gets me funny looks in the States, though I don't know anyone who would turn down a buttery chocolate croissant. We always keep plain yogurt in the 'fridge, so that I can snack on yogurt swirled with a dollop or two of preserves... or grape jelly. This revelation always gets me a skeptical expression, but really, both are fabulous combinations!

I also love potatoes in every possible form (I wonder if this is my Slavic heritage coming through), which means that I absolutely and completely adore- and yes, I freely admit this- tater tots. I've been known to keep a five-pound bag of them at all times in the freezer. They have to be super crispy, though, so I bake them a bit longer than directed. Fellow potato lovers understand this, but it's another thing that, without fail, draws funny looks from people who might not share my adoration for the Solanum tuberosum. L used to make fun of me for this, but then he actually tried a tater tot, and lately he's been known to sneak a few off my plate.

The potato has a fascinating history. The Incas cultivated them for sustenance and medicinal purposes, which included placing slices of potato on injuries such as broken bones to assist the healing process. Until much later, Europeans considered potatoes poisonous to humans and suitable only for hog feed, when instead, like many other members of the Solanaceae/Nightshade family, it's the the leaves and stems that are deadly. The sly, ingenious antics of Antoine-Augustin Parmentier successfully introduced the potato to the French, and eventually ensured that not all of France starved to death during multiple country-wide famines. On the other hand, his fellow Frenchmen Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin and Denis Diderot both wrote that the potato had only one purpose- as a safeguard against famine in desperate times.

In any case, tater tots aren't exactly something that I serve to company, so I also rely on an easy, satisfying recipe that my mom makes often: crispy roasted potatoes. I've read recipes that have you parboil the potatoes or go through some other extra, fiddly step(s), but I don't find that any of those things are necessary. Just make sure that potato quarters are similarly-sized and keep an eye on them during cooking to prevent burning, and you will end up with a fabulous combination of tender potato and crispy outer crust.

These are particularly lovely as part of a brunch spread, as well as with saucy meat dishes like braises and stews... or if you're like me, you don't need a reason to make them!

Crispy Oven-roasted Potatoes
serves 4-6 as a side dish

If you are lucky enough to have a few tablespoons of duck or goose fat, gently warm until it melts into a liquid, substitute that for the olive oil, and these will turn out even better.

3 pounds small potatoes, cut into quarters
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons minced fresh herb of your choosing (rosemary, thyme, oregano, tarragon)
1-2 teaspoons kosher or sea salt

Preheat oven to 425'F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat baking mat.

Toss potatoes with olive oil and tip onto baking sheet. Sprinkle with minced herb and salt. Bake, tossing occasionally, until exteriors are crispy and interiors are soft when pierced with a fork, about 45 minutes.

Taste and correct for salt while piping hot. Serve immediately.

Decorated Holiday Treats: Inspiration

2007-10-22T22:35:00.001-04:00

While on a recent hunt for polenta recipes, I stumbled across a lovely food blog I hadn't seen before: KUIDAORE.

Even though it's only October, I couldn't resist posting a link to Joycelyn's gorgeously decorated holiday treats. I hope she posts some recipes, and if we're really lucky, instructions for a few decorating techniques... it's enough to make me want to start testing icing recipes and practising my piping skills!

Lazy Weeknight Dinner

2007-10-20T21:27:00.002-04:00

Though I love to spend lots of time cooking, our weeknight dinners are often very simple. Those days when we just can't agree on what to eat, or when we're too tired to cook anything at all, the idea of a treat is enough to garner energy for a quick trip to Russo's or Whole Foods, or on special days, Formaggio Kitchen.

The shopping list invariably includes a bottle or two of wine, a few loaves of crusty bread from Iggy's and Pain D'Avignon, a selection of interesting cheeses- some familiar, some new, perhaps some charcuterie, and a bar or two of good, dark chocolate.

When I was very young, my mom introduced me to the deliciousness of chocolate with bread, and it's always been one of my favorite treats; this particular dinner tradition wouldn't be the same without it.

A few glasses of wine, bread with cheese, and then chocolate with bread make up the perfect lazy weeknight dinner.

Pictured are two very unusual cheeses that we both recently enjoyed. I didn't particularly like the Brillat Savarin avec Moutarde (Brillat Savarin with Mustard) at first, but once I'd gotten the hang of balancing more of the subtle creamy cheese with less of the bold, grainy mustard coating, I found it luscious and addictive, with a pleasantly tangy, savoury kick.

I had the same experience with the the New York State Chèvre with Blueberry Compote: the flavours were a perfect complement, once I'd managed to balance the tangy, salty, crumbly cheese with the intense, sweet blueberry compote.

Banana Bread

2007-10-16T17:13:00.002-04:00

Something about autumn makes me want to bake and bake, and then bake a bit more, as though we didn't have enough baked treats around already. During the hot summer months, it's hard to justify heating up the entire house for a loaf of bread or a cake that you're too hot to really want in the first place. During the fall, however, I adore the warmth radiating from the stovetop and the tantalizing baking aromas that waft through the house.

My post last week on spiced pumpkin bread got me thinking about, and of course craving, my mom's banana bread. I absolutely love it, but for some reason I've never gotten around to asking her for the recipe. We had a bunch of very, very ripe bananas on our counter for the past few days, which meant that there was only one thing to do! One weekend night at around midnight, when it was way too late to call and beg for the recipe, I realised that tweaking the pumpkin bread recipe might just do the trick.

Instead of pumpkin, I used four medium-sized, very ripe mashed bananas, along with 1/2 cup of roasted, mashed acorn squash that I found languishing in the 'fridge. This particular squash had such a subtle taste that I hoped it would add substance and texture without overpowering the banana flavour. I also omitted the heaping teaspoons of spices, opting instead for 1 teaspoon of allspice and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract. And, as I usually do, I omitted the walnuts.

The bread came out golden and moist, with a pronounced, pleasant banana flavour. It tasted almost exactly like my mom's version. The recipe makes two large loaves, so once it had cooled, one loaf went right into the freezer. It will probably be eaten next week for weekday breakfasts.

Of course, there's nothing quite like a recipe that you grew up adoring, but I'm thrilled that this is pretty darn close!

Fluffy Buttermilk Pancakes

2007-10-12T13:43:00.003-04:00

I've known L for years, but until very recently, I didn't know that he could make pancakes, and he didn't know how much I love them. After the surprise wore off and he'd made them a few weekend mornings in a row (at my insistence that he make up for all the pancakes I've missed out on), I realized that this is my favourite of all the batter recipes I've tried.

L's family makes these with regular milk and a mix of all-purpose and whole wheat flour, and they are always very good. I grew up eating buttermilk pancakes, and I ever-so-slightly prefer the tang that buttermilk lends. I eat them drizzled with grade A maple syrup, while L prefers grade B syrup; the neverending debate in this house is, of course, which grade is better. When we're really lucky, we have on hand a quart of New Hampshire maple syrup from the maple trees on my grandmother's farm.

In our house, L makes the batter and I cook them-they don't quite taste the same if one person does all the work.

Fluffy Buttermilk Pancakes
serves 2-3

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons baking powder
pinch of salt

2 cups buttermilk
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 large egg yolks, separated (yolks and whites reserved)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Dry ingredients: Pour the flour, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl. Gently mix and set aside.

Wet ingredients: In another bowl, whisk the egg yolks for about 30 seconds. Add the milk and vegetable oil and whisk until well mixed.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and whisk until you have a fairly smooth batter. Some small lumps are fine. Set aside.

Whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Gently fold the egg whites into the batter.

Heat a heavy skillet over medium heat. Ladle the batter in 1/2 cup portions on to the skillet, making sure you have enough room in between the pancakes to flip each one. Flip when the underside is golden and the pancake is firm enough to be flipped. The pancakes are done when both sides are golden, and the insides are fully cooked and fluffy.

Serve immediately, or keep the pancakes warm on a piece of tinfoil in a 300'F oven. They might lose a teeny bit of fluffiness in the oven, but it's a good solution if you want everyone to eat together.

Spiced Pumpkin Bread + Roasted Squash

2007-10-08T20:06:00.001-04:00

I'm not a big fan of nutty, dry, light banana/zucchini/pumpkin-and-nut breads, but I do love their dark, moist, dense counterparts. I'm sure that this preference can be traced directly to my mom, who makes a flavourful, impossibly moist banana bread that I absolutely adore.

Last fall, during one of my frequent, late-night sudden urges to bake, I stumbled upon a Bon Appetit recipe for spiced pumpkin bread. I was in love at first bite, when I realised that this is the perfect fall version of my mom's banana bread.

Just a few notes from personal experience:

* I cut the sugar down to 2 cups, and I use 1 cup white, 1 cup brown sugar.

* To make up for the lost sugar, I add one extra egg; in the baking world, sugar is considered a liquid, so the egg is a successful substitution here.

* I omit the walnuts, as I prefer this bread sans nuts.

* I add a teaspoon of ground ginger for a hint of spicy heat.

* While I love the flavour of pumpkin, I've found that this recipe works really well with other roasted squash, too.

I highly recommend roasting your own pumpkin or squash for this bread. It's not difficult at all, and it tastes so much better than anything you can buy in a can.

You can also eat this squash- cubed or mashed- alongside a chicken or other roasted meats. Either way, you might just find yourself buying more Halloween pumpkins just for the leftovers!

This is the easiest way, that I know of, to both cook hard winter squash and remove the skin.

Roasted Squash

any amount winter squash*, stem ends sliced off, cut into manageable pieces**, seeds scooped out, skin left on

small amount olive oil or neutral vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 425'F. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper.

Set squash pieces, skin side down, onto the parchment paper. Brush cut sides with oil. Roast in the middle of your oven until a fork easily pierces the flesh (start checking at 30 minutes). Remove from oven and allow to cool.

When the squash is cool enough to handle, peel off the skin and cut into chunks, or process using a food mill.

* Butternut, acorn, delicata, spaghetti, pumpkin, etc.
** Cut large squash (over 1 lb) into quarters or eighths, lengthwise; smaller squash (less than 1 lb) can be cut into halves, lengthwise

Apples + Spiced Plum Applesauce

2007-10-04T14:35:00.002-04:00

As part of our yearly CSA membership, we purchase a fruit share that comes directly from a local partner farm. This amounts to a 1/2 peck of fruit every week- mostly apples, sometimes plums, peaches and pears, and occasionally a bunch or two of concord grapes.

Apples are unfailingly abundant in the fruit share, and we can always count on seeing a different mix of cultivars each week. Some are familiar, others are entirely unknown, and it's fun to sample the strikingly different flavours and textures.

Our favourite is the Macoun apple, a good eating and cooking apple, and a cross between the Arkansas black and McIntosh cultivars. Macouns are usually small and flushed vivid pink or red, with icy-white, sweet-tart juicy flesh. Sadly, they only comes into season for a few short weeks somewhere between September and November, which for us means a flurry of apple dishes and at least 2 apples eaten out-of-hand each day until, in a flash, they're out of season until next autumn.

This week, we brought home a bag of Macouns, Cox's Orange Pippins and Gala apples. We ate as many as we could, and I turned the rest into my favourite breakfast, dessert and snack: applesauce!

You can make this applesauce with one type or a mixed variety of apples, and you can leave small strips of peel on the apples if you like an extra bit of texture. If you use a food mill to process the finished applesauce, you can skip the peeling step altogether- when you run the applesauce through the mill, any of the smaller plates will force the flesh through, leaving most of the skins behind.

If you want applesauce straight up, omit the plums; if you want something a bit different, substitute 1 pint of berries for the plums. I love this mixed with an equal amount of roasted, mashed butternut squash or pumpkin.

Spiced Plum Applesauce
Makes about 6 cups

3 pounds apples, peeled, cored and cut into large chunks
1 pint damson plums, pitted
2 cups water
1/3 cup light brown sugar, plus more to taste
juice of 1 lemon
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled (optional)
1 cinnamon stick
1 star anise pod
1 cardamom pod
dash of nutmeg

Put all ingredients except the lemon juice into a nonreactive* saucepan. Turn burner to low heat and cook at a steady simmer, covered and stirring occasionally. When the apples are soft- after about 45 minutes- turn off the heat and stir in the lemon juice.

Remove from heat and allow to cool. When the applesauce has cooled to room temperature, remove the ginger, cinnamon stick, star anise and cardamom pod. Taste and correct for sugar.

At this point, you have multiple mashing options:

Use a potato masher or fork for a chunky texture
Use a food mill fitted with the largest-holed disc for a medium texture
Use a food mill fitted with a small-holed disc for a fine texture
Use a food processor for a fine texture- go easy and pulse sparingly here
Divide the applesauce and use more than one method for a mix of textures

*nonreactive = enamel or stainless steel; not aluminum or cast-iron

All Good Things Must Come to an End

2007-10-01T18:51:00.001-04:00

Our yearly CSA farm share comes to an end the last week of October. It seems like not too long ago (5 months, almost exactly) that I was so excited about the first pickup of the season. We'll go back to buying most of our groceries at my favourite store, which isn't a bad thing- the produce is fresh, the selection unusual and varied, and they carry local items whenever possible.

But of course, it's not quite the same as bringing home crisp radishes still dusted with good black earth, lime-green tomatillos bursting out of their husks, firm-skinned baby zucchini, and flavourful tomatoes still warm from the sun.

As is the risk with any CSA, there were some hardships this year. Hungry woodchucks severely damaged the summer squash, cucumbers, watermelons and fennel, though the farm staff did their best to dissuade them with portable fences to physically keep them out, and low-strung flash tape interspersed with tiny pinwheels to scare them away.

Boston had the second driest August in 130 years, forcing daily irrigation, with special attention paid to the cover crops (oats, peas, winter rye and hairy vetch) that make the soil fertile again for next year's crops. Unlike the productive year before, we brought home just one small watermelon and no strawberries- the berry plants were completely destroyed by a late frost.

On the other hand, we made new friends and delighted in seeing familiar faces at our weekly pickups. The farm produced enough food to support families of shareholders and hunger relief programs alike. We were able to try some neat new heirloom varieties, and we've discovered new ways to prepare vegetables (never a bad thing). The apples and plums are thriving, and our fruit share has given us enough to make quarts of preserves; I've learned a lot about the basics of preserving fruits and vegetables. And this year we were offered winter CSA shares, which means that we'll bring home potatoes, garlic, winter squash, onions, and greens once in November, and once in December.

The farm managers decided to try something new, and if enough shareholders sign up, we will be able to purchase a monthly meat CSA share from Chestnut Farms when the new year begins. My excitement about this might sound strange to people who know me: I'm just not a big meat eater. Unlike L, I don't crave meat, though we both have reservations about the way many meat animals are raised and slaughtered. To tell you the truth, I could happily live without meat. L, on the other hand, would be miserable.

Planning and cooking separate meals is just not something that either of us have the energy for, so we compromise by purchasing organic meat that we are certain is raised and processed humanely; since this can get expensive really quickly, we simply eat less of it. The meat CSA is a great chance for us to support local farmers and buy meat that we feel good about.

All in all, I'd say it's been a really great year for the farm, and I can't wait for the 2008 harvest to start again next May!

Gourmet Weekly + Slow-roasted Tomatoes

2007-09-26T12:16:00.002-04:00

I'm a sucker for cooking magazines, but I'm not usually a fan of e-newsletters. I love the convenience of the internet, but in the whirlwind of our technology-savvy (and perhaps somewhat addicted?) culture, there is something soothing about settling on the couch with a blanket, mug of tea, a bright, glossy magazine in your lap, and a quiet hour to read.

In my mind, however, there is one exception to the monotony of most e-newsletters. Gourmet Weekly provides just enough information to get you thinking (and learning) about fun new gadgets and ingredients, in addition to showcasing seasonal recipes you might otherwise have missed. And best of all, it's free!

Last week they provided links to a few fabulous tomato recipes, including Provencal Oven-roasted Tomato Sauce and Slow-roasted Tomatoes. I've already raved about the tomato sauce; this week, we discovered the salty-sweet, intense, sunny flavour of the oven-dried, slow-roasted tomatoes. They're positively addictive, and I'm amazed that we didn't eat them all the moment they were cool enough to handle!

For the most part, I'm not a huge fan of sun-dried tomatoes, but these are very different, and oh-so-much better. I used the small, sweet Orange Banana plum and the tiny yellow pear tomatoes from the farm, and I made a few batches with garlic and a few without.

One batch had the misfortune of turning into tomato-scented charcoal; I learned quickly that not all tomatoes will need the full 8 hours in the oven. I recommend starting with 4 hours and adding one-hour increments- tasting as you go- as you need them.

A few epicurious reviewers have had success freezing them, so I packed the chewy, moist slices between layers of waxed paper, sealed up the packets with sheets of freeze-tite, and into the freezer they went! I have a feeling that this will be a great way to transform the unremarkable hothouse tomatoes you find in most New England grocery stores during the winter.

Our friend A has gotten everyone hooked on the combination of sun dried tomatoes and smoked gouda, and I think these will be a perfect stand-in for the tomatoes at a winter celebration- New Years Eve, perhaps?

Autumnal Equinox

2007-09-23T00:28:00.001-04:00

No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
- John Donne

Welcome fall!

Miso Dressing

2007-09-20T19:33:00.001-04:00

During my senior year of college, I was introduced to the joys of homemade miso soup by a Japanese roommate. She would add a cup of just-boiled water or dashi to a heaping tablespoon of moist, soft miso, and voila! you have a fast, tasty soup. If you've got either on hand, a bit of cubed tofu and small slices of kombu are nice additions. Either way, it tastes just like the miso soup you'd get at a Japanese restaurant.

While I love simple oil-and-vinegar salad dressings, most bottled dressings are too sweet for me. When I discovered this dressing and played with the recipe a bit, I hit upon the perfect balance of flavours, and L and I were hooked. The salty acidity is a perfect foil for salad vegetables, which are often sweet enough on their own.

We keep a container of miso and a jar of this dressing in our fridge at all times. Dinner guests seem to love it, and it encourages impromptu snacking on salads (rather than my beloved potatoes, which apparently aren't nearly as healthy as other vegetables). We've found that it goes particularly well with tomatoes and roughly grated carrots.

Miso Dressing

1 heaping tablespoon red miso (akamiso) or white miso (shiromiso)
1-2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 one-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled
pinch of sugar
2/3 cup rice vinegar
2/3 cup safflower oil (or any other neutral oil)

Put the miso, garlic, ginger and sugar into a food processor. Pulse a few times, until the garlic and ginger are finely chopped. Add the rice vinegar all at once and pulse until you have a well-mixed slurry. Turn on the processor and, with the processor running, add the safflower oil in a slow, steady stream until you have a thick emulsion.

If you don't have a food processor, you can mince the garlic, grate the ginger, and mix both with the miso and sugar in a medium-sized bowl. Add the rice vinegar and whisk to combine. Whisking like mad, add the safflower oil in a slow, steady stream until you have a thick emulsion.

Miso dressing can be stored in the refrigerator for at least a week.

Provençal Oven-roasted Tomato Sauce

2007-09-16T12:25:00.002-04:00

Daylight hours are getting shorter, temperatures are dropping, and summer-green trees are now speckled with the first copper and scarlet leaves of fall. Autumn is fast approaching, but the tomato plants at the farm are still producing like mad. Every week we take home heavy bags of them- seven pounds one week, nine pounds the next, and always a mixture of hefty, meaty sauce tomatoes and tiny, intensely-flavoured cherry and pear varieties.

I love tomatoes raw in just about anything, but I've also been looking for ways to store some of summer's bounty for the dark winter months ahead.

As usual, Gourmet came to the rescue with a freezer-friendly recipe for Provencal oven-roasted tomato sauce. I used a combination of red and yellow tomatoes (and one tiny green-striped tomato) and roasted them, with dried herbs from our porch garden, on parchment paper, for exactly 35 minutes total (how often do recipes work out that precisely?!). I wanted to strain out the tomato skins and seeds, so I didn't skip the food mill processing.

Usually, making homemade tomato sauce requires equipment-hogging and time-consuming processes: blanching, peeling, seeding, and chopping the fresh tomatoes. This method is fabulously, infinitely easier.

Roasting gives the tomatoes and garlic an unusually intense, yet mellow flavour; herbs and orange juice add a lively brightness. When we tasted the first batch, I was worried that we'd eat the whole jar before it went into the freezer. This is fabulous as a warm soup, and I can't wait to try it on homemade pizza and fresh ravioli!

Damson Plum and Sweet Crabapple Preserves

2007-09-13T13:51:00.001-04:00

Our big box of plums and crabapples from Maine presented the perfect opportunity to try something new. So, as part of my current efforts to improve my preserving skills, I recently cooked up my very first jar of properly-canned preserves!

Before I started, I read through a slew of recipes and settled on a combination of the easiest basic techniques. I also made sure that at least one of my chosen fruits- the crabapples, in this case- has naturally high pectin levels, since pectin gives preserves their characteristic thick, gelled consistency.

This was my first solo attempt at this form of preserving, so I was aiming for a small, manageable batch... and I was ready to change my expectations (sauce for ice cream, anyone?) if anything went wrong. Happily, the preserves turned out beautifully thick, with a nicely balanced sweet-tart flavour.

Since we ended up with a little over a pint, I've been able to try the extra ladlefuls a few different ways without opening our one sealed jar.

I'm saving this jar of preserves for the dead of winter, when we're craving something a bit different. A welcome change from our usual grape jelly (L) and sweet orange marmalade (me), this is fabulous spread on toast or stirred into plain yogurt. I bet it would make a lovely layered cake filling, too.

Damson Plum and Sweet Crabapple Preserves
makes approximately 1 pint

1 1/2 pounds sweet crabapples*, cored and roughly chopped
1 pound damson plums, pitted
2 cups water
1 cup sugar
juice of 1 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)

Put the crabapples, plums and water into a heavy, nonreactive pot. Turn heat to low and simmer, uncovered and stirring often (check the bottom of the pot for sticking and/or burning), until the fruit is very soft and the mixture is thick and pulpy (approximately 2 hours).

Remove fruit mixture from heat and process, into a medium-sized bowl, with a food mill set with the smallest-holed plate. Process until you have a small amount of fairly dry solids remaining in the food mill (this should be mostly fruit peels). Discard these solids.

Put the fruit pulp back into the pot. Add lemon juice and sugar. Taste and correct for sugar, until preserves are as tart or sweet as you like.

Bring to a boil and let boil for 2 minutes. Pack into container(s), refrigerate, and consume within one week, or freeze and consume within one year.

If you wish to keep the preserves in your pantry, fill dry, sterilized jars (they should still be hot from the sterilization process) with the preserves and seal with sterilized caps. Process using a boiling water canner or pressure canner. Most guides say that properly canned preserves can be stored in a dark, cool place for up to a year.**

* You can use regular tart crabapples as well- just increase the sugar, to taste.

**NOTE: Canned foods can harbor toxic bacteria, mold and yeast. Please be sure that you follow safe canning practices (click here for a good start).

Frozen Pears + Freezer Preserving

2007-09-08T19:54:00.002-04:00

In addition to all of the just-picked vegetables we brought home from Maine last weekend, we were given a large box of gorgeous crabapples, plums, and pears from the orchard.

Because the bounty from our CSA can sometimes be too much for two people to finish in a week (a double-edged sword), I've been learning to preserve produce. This is a very good thing, because there is no way we could finish all of this fruit while it's still ripe!

Canning is definitely fun. I love fruit preserved in any form, and there is a certain proud satisfaction to be had in the delicious results of a day spent with family or friends (or both, if you're lucky), settling on interesting recipes (I've got my eye on a particular Ginger Pear Jam), prepping and cooking, and packing finished preserves into sparkling-clean Mason jars. And if I'm being honest, I'll admit that I have a limited amount of energy for busy days spent over a hot stove and making a sticky, cluttered mess of the kitchen.

Luckily, the smart folks at the National Center for Home Food Preservation understand this dilemma. They have compiled an extensive set of instructions for freezing all kinds of foods, from avocados, loquats, oysters and pomegranates to applesauce and pumpkin puree.

In addition, Ball (the company that used to make those familiarly-shaped glass canning jars) has a new website where you can find a growing collection of recipes for freezer preserves, which don't require sterilized jars or a final boiling-water-canning or pressure-canning step. How easy is that?!

Not only is freezing easier and safer, but some studies suggest that the process of freezing produce destroys fewer vitamins and minerals than traditional hot-canning methods.

I've had limited experience freezing produce, so I'm hoping that it really does turn out to be a good alternative to canning. I'm certainly putting our half-sized, newly acquired upright freezer* (craigslist, how I love thee!) to good use! If the four pounds of pears frozen in syrup- my first experiment beyond freezing pesto- turn out well, I think a celebratory winter pear clafoutis will be in order.

* An extra special thank you L, S and A for retrieving it and carrying it up all those stairs!

Trip to Maine

2007-09-04T18:17:00.001-04:00

On Wednesday of last week, A and I's family called to see if they wanted to come up that weekend (to their farm in Maine) for the yearly lamb slaughter and Mexican lamb feast.

We were invited along and were thrilled to go- it's always a treat to visit! It's hard not to take a million pictures, and I'm not sure if I can narrow it down to a manageable amount... but who wants just a few pictures, anyway?

When we arrived, we parked across the road at the little house (now used as a guest house). The first things you see there are the ornamental crabapple trees that flank the little house:

To get to the main house, you walk past the orchards:

and the vegetable garden:

and the flower hedge bordering the vegetable garden:

If you can pull yourself away from the beautiful flowers:

and the stunning view:

you will be greeted at the main house...

by three of the sweetest mastiffs you will ever meet!

If you can catch them, you will also find at least a handful of darling kittens:

C has a reputation for being able to find loads of wild mushrooms, and there are usually baskets of them all around the kitchen.

When the lamb roasting was done, everyone feasted; as usual, the food was incredible, and everyone happily ate way too much. I was too busy eating to catch pictures of the platters of roasted lamb, stew, chowder, chimichangas, enchiladas, homemade tortillas, salads, and bowls of refreshing, fiery salsas and sauces. A made quarts of his fabulous mojitos, and there was enough beer to satisfy an army!

When we felt like we could move again, and sunset was starting to creep in...

L, A, L, I, A, (what a funny set of initials!) and I took a walk past the beehives:

to the vegetable garden, where C and W gave all of us loads of gorgeous vegetables to take home!

Then, we moved on to the orchards, where we harvested tiny kiwis (you eat them whole!):

pears:

damson plums and sweet crabapples, to add to our already overflowing boxes of produce.

When we couldn't carry any more, the mosquitos were driving us mad, and night was fast approaching, we went back to the house to try a beautiful spread of delicious desserts.

I can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday!

Breville Two-Speed Juice Fountain + Watermelon Juice

2007-09-01T18:15:00.002-04:00

Ours is a juice-lovin' household. L talked about getting a juicer ever since our daily trips to the juice bars that dot the streets of Cairo, and I've always liked the idea of being able to make juice at home.

When L's birthday rolled around this year, I knew just what to get him. After doing a bit of research, I settled on the very well-reviewed Breville Two-Speed Juice Fountain (I'm not quite sure why they had to call it a juice "fountain"). We've tried lots of different combinations with great results, and I'm blown away by the amount of juice that this powerful machine can squeeze out of whatever we throw at it. Added bonus: most of the parts are dishwasher safe!

Not only do we get more fruits and vegetables into our diet (I sound like a doctor and a salesman, I know), but the juicer is a fabulous vehicle for using up desperately-need-to-be-eaten fruits and vegetables, too. We do our best, but I inevitably discover a few carrots or one lonely peach at the back of the refrigerator crisper. I hate throwing out food, so I'm happy that I have a way to use up whatever juice-friendly* produce we might have on hand.

A few weeks ago, we bought a huge watermelon. I insisted, as I sometimes misguidedly do, that I was going to eat the whole thing before it went bad. After I'd gotten about 1/4 of the way through, I had to admit defeat. There was no way I was going to finish it on my own. Of course, there was only one thing to do! One weekend morning, I juiced one small lime with half of the watermelon flesh, seeds included, and it made enough to fill five lowball glasses with vibrant, coral-pink juice. A had spent the second half of the weekend with us, and the three of us agreed that the juice was fabulous.

If you're in the market for a juicer, I highly recommend Breville. If you already have a juicer, give watermelon juice a try. Next stop- watermelon cocktails!

* There are a few things, like spinach and garlic, that I just can't bring myself to juice. Blech.

Tomatillo and Husk Cherry Salsa

2007-08-28T14:38:00.003-04:00

Over the past few weeks, we've been harvesting pints of tomatillos as part of our farm share. We had a fast-growing bowl of them sitting in our 'fridge, because I'm annoyingly picky and have been looking everywhere for the perfect tomatillo salsa recipe.

When S and A visit (they're with us for the week), we usually eat obscene amounts of salsa, especially when everyone gets peckish around mid-afternoon. I like tomato-based salsas, but I've been itching to try something different, and I really wanted to use up the tomatillos!

My first attempt at tomatillo salsa (two years ago)- an experiment without guidance from a recipe- failed miserably. The salsa was lip-puckeringly tart, with no real flavour other than an overwhelming sourness. Not wanting to waste these tomatillos on further wild experimentation, I decided to look to the experts. As luck would have it, the September issue of Gourmet magazine arrived just before we left for the camping weekend, and the back-page column (aptly called The Last Touch) happened to include a recipe for tomatillo salsa! What perfect timing!

We had two pounds of tomatillos and I dislike cilantro, so I doubled the recipe and substituted parsley. We also have a small bowl of husk cherries that desperately need to be eaten; as they're related to tomatillos, I figured it couldn't hurt to add a handful (about 15, peeled and coarsely chopped) about 10 minutes into the simmering process.

Happily, the salsa came out fantastic! The husk cherries add an intruiguing fruity note, the lime juice and parsley are refreshing additions, and the secret to muting the characteristic tomatillo tartness seems to lie in the brief simmering. This is a nice departure from our usual salsa choices.

Summer Vacation!

2007-08-24T22:43:00.001-04:00

Sugar Baby watermelon

Gasp... shock... we are actually taking a vacation this summer! This afternoon we head north for a weekend of camping with friends, followed by a lazy week with everyone at our house.

We've all known each other for a lo-oo-ng time and we've done things like this together before, so I can say with certainty that it will be a crazy vacation, albeit the absolute best kind of crazy.

The dishwasher (my BFF*) will be called into service every night. The water will run cold for the last person to shower each morning. We'll stay up obscenely late and wake even later. Suitcases will be piled in the guest room. The 'fridge will be stuffed. We'll drink more mojitos and margaritas than I should state publicly (!). We'll cook up a storm and eat way too much.

Out in the wilderness, the spastic New England weather and hungry mosquitoes will hopefully cooperate. If it rains, as the weatherman predicts it will, one of the three tents will certainly leak.

It will be especially funny if this is someone else's tent.

I can't wait! See you after Labor Day!

* Best Friend Forever. I love it that much.

Husk Cherries

2007-08-22T21:36:00.001-04:00

Our newest discovery at the farm is the husk cherry, also known as the ground cherry or cape gooseberry. Last week's share included a handful of them, and I'm hoping that as they flourish, we might be allowed a pint or two.

Husk cherries belong to the deadly nightshade family and look like tiny tomatillos (no surprise- they're related). They grow low to the ground on strong, wild-looking runner plants, and their delicate, papery husks turn yellow when they're ready to be harvested. When you peel back the husks, the glossy-skinned, raspberry-sized globes roll out freely.

The flavour is definitely unusual. The first bite releases a pleasing tart acidity, followed by an intensely fruity, somewhat sweet, almost floral taste. L described them as a cross between a tomato and a grape; the wikipedia entry lists both tomato/pineapple and tomato/strawberry flavours. I agree with all three assessments- the sweet aspect is intriguing and difficult to identify.

A few weeks ago, The New York Times profiled the husk cherry as a fabulous addition to salads. I think we'll stick with that route, though I'm tempted to try preserving them (perhaps with some late-season strawberries?), if we ever do get that full pint!

Beekeeping, Honey and City Bees

2007-08-19T12:29:00.001-04:00

During the past year, I've developed a nearly (lucky for L) irresistible itch to start keeping bees. We know two families who have beehives, and we've been lucky enough to sample divine raw honey from both (I posted about one of these lovely families back in June).

Beekeeping requires a tremendous amount of energy, knowledge and skill, and I suspect that most landlords aren't too thrilled with the idea of their tenants setting up beehives in the backyard. I have none of the above requirements, but I do find the world of beekeeping intriguing, so for now I will have to be content with books and a few favourite websites.

It's probably a good idea to leave it at that and honey-eating, for now... I'd like to think that I can brush off a few injuries along the way, but I'm sure I'd feel differently after picking bee stingers out of my hands and feet. Worse still, if all the bees decide to take a daytrip out of the hive, the beekeeper is expected to retrieve the swarm from the neighbor's property. I'd probably get the overwhelming urge to run in the other direction or employ similarly drastic measures!*

When someone patents a reliable bee-training method, I'll certainly be ready:
Bees... sit! Bees... stay! Good bees!

* "What bees? Those bees? Oh, yes, you've definitely got a bee problem. They can't be mine- those aren't even my hives! They just appeared in my backyard. No sirree, I don't know anything about those bees."

Pasta with Fresh Tomatoes, Basil and Provolone

2007-08-17T12:22:00.001-04:00

clockwise from top: Japanese Black Trifele, Moskvich, Taxi, Juliet
middle: Sun Gold, Baby Girl

Yet again, the farm staff's careful planning has paid off: the tomatoes and basil came into season together a few weeks ago, and both are growing at lightning speed. The garlic and shallots aren't too far behind, and we saw our first array of soft, barely-dried bulbs this week.

The tomato rows are things of beauty- tall, healthy and producing profusely. The farm staff planted no less than 22 tomato varieties this year! This week, we took home 5 pounds of mixed larger varieties, 3 pints of plum and 2 pints of cherry tomatoes. Within each group, you get to pick your mix, so you're able to try a bit of everything each week. I'd like to say that I have a favourite; though I gravitate towards the unusual colours (i.e. not red), and the Sun Gold cherry tomatoes are a big hit with friends, I couldn't possibly choose one over another.

I'd been seriously considering documenting each tomato variety by looks and taste, so I could later remember what we've been able to try, but it seems that the farm staff read my mind! Someone beat me to it, and the list was featured prominently in this week's newsletter. I don't think they'll mind if I reproduce it here.

We hope this handy guide will help you identify what you're eating and what you'd like to try.We buy tomato seeds from five companies: J means Johnny's Selected Seeds and F means Fedco Seeds, both in Maine, T is Totally Tomatoes, S is Seed Savers Exchange, and B is Baker Creek Seeds. Quotes are from their catalogs.

Red Varieties

New Girl J: Smaller early red tomatoes with a pointed bottom.

Moskvich J: "Fruits are early, deep red, and cold tolerant. Rich taste."

Red Sun J: "A flavorful Celebrity type with larger, prettier, deep red fruit and more crack resistance." This one does very well on our farm.

Rutgers F: Red tomato with "that great old-time flavor."

Paragon J: Large main crop variety with heavy fruit set.

Yellow Varieties

Taxi J: "Concentrated early set." This is the only early yellow tomato we grow. We only planted 2 rows. Can you tell how productive it is?

Golden Sunray S: "Golden-yellow fruits, full tomato flavor."

Other Varieties

Rose J: "Deep pink and smoother than Brandywine, Rose is every bit as large, meaty, and flavorful."

Rose de Berne F: "This French emigré is a superior medium-sized pink tomato that delivers the robust flavor of the bigger types. It has a rich sweetness the others can't match." One of our favorites.

Paul Robeson B : "This famous tomato has almost a cult following among tomato connoisseurs, who cannot get enough of this variety's amazing flavor that is so distinctive, rich and smoky.

Japanese Black Trifele B : "The flavor is absolutely sublime, having all the richness of fine chocolate." You decide.

Nebraska Wedding S: Meaty orange fruits with "well-balanced flavor."

Jubilee F: "The best medium-sized open-pollinated orange tomato, Jubilee ripens smooth-textured sweet mild meaty 8 oz. globes."

Green Zebra F: "A most unusual beast in the tomato menagerie, this zebra starts out green with dark green stripes, softening and blushing yellow when it ripens."

Tigerella T: Red, orange and yellow striped, medium-sized tomato.

Ruby Gold F: As aesthetically appealing as it is delicious, Ruby boasts prolific beautiful huge red-streaked yellow fruits with marbled interior flesh.

Cherry

Sun Gold F: "To quote one of our customers, 'Without these little babies, there's no summer.' The best cherry tomato ever developed, a perfect combination of deep sweetness with a hint of acid tartness. Splits readily after rain."

Sweet Baby Girl: Standard red cherry.

Plum

Juliet J : "Delicious, rich tomato taste for salads, great salsa, and fresh pasta sauce."

Blue Beech F: "This Roma type has been acclimated in Vermont for the last 50 years so it is much more adaptable to cold climates than Roma. It usually makes a richly textured sweet sauce that's just brimming with flavor."

Orange Banana F: "The proof is in the eating and Orange Banana has several times been the clear winner of our annual autumn paste taste. Comments from this year's tasters include, 'the best flavor and sweetness yet, wow!' and 'gourmet candlelight.' No wonder Banana has become a staple of famous tomato sauces. Its amazing sprightly sweet flavor, reminiscent of Sungold but with more depth and diverse tones, makes an ambrosial sauce by itself and adds a vivid fruity complexity to any sauce with other tomato varieties."

Striped Roman F: "Near the top in our 2005 sauce test for its rich tomatoey sweetness and good texture. An underground favorite of many seed savers, Roman is just beginning to find its way into commerce."

When we'd finally got our extremely dirty selves* home and had sorted the tomatoes into three big bowls, it was hard to resist eating the lot- there are few things better than tomatoes still warm from the sun. I've planned out a few different tomato dishes for the rest of the week, so we'll have plenty of yummy tomato enjoyment until our next pickup.

As most people do during the hot New England August and September months, we rely on fast dishes that require little to no heat. This is a variation on a pasta dish that L's mom makes- it's definitely a household favourite.

Pasta with Fresh Tomatoes, Basil and Provolone
serves 4 as a main course

2 pints mixed variety tomatoes, cut up any way you like
2 shallots, peeled and sliced into thin rings
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
1 large handful basil leaves, chopped
1/4 pound provolone cheese, grated
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 pinches of salt
1 pound of pasta, any type

Bring a large pot of salted (just a pinch) water to a boil, but don't add the pasta yet. Cover and keep at a simmer.

Find the serving bowl you plan to use and position it nearby.

In a medium-sized heavy pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat until hot. Add the shallots and saute until soft, stirring frequently to prevent burning. Add the garlic and saute for 1-2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the garlic starts to turn a pale gold. Add the tomatoes and a pinch of salt (this will encourage them to release some of their liquid) and saute for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened but not mushy. Add the basil and saute for 30 seconds. Remove from heat and immediately pour into the serving bowl.

Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until al dente. When the pasta is done, drain and toss immediately with the tomato sauce. Toss in the grated provolone and serve immediately.

* The dog was ecstatic at being so filthy- all that dirt masks his doggie fragrance, so that his enemies (the vacuum cleaner) can't detect him.

Basil Pesto

2007-08-12T13:31:00.002-04:00

I have a long-standing love affair with pesto, and I'm sure that I am not alone. I first encountered the recipe- something a kid can easily make on her own- in my mother's copy of the Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan. It's a great solution you're looking for something delicious and quick that requires very little heat-up-the-kitchen-cooking.

I've changed the quantities of the original recipe quite a bit, as I usually do (you may have noticed that habit!). I prefer a thicker paste with less oil to sink to the bottom of the bowl, a stronger cheese and garlic tang, and whole pine nuts for a bit of crunch. Marcella adds butter to hers, and while I like the flavour, I can happily do without (in my pesto, at least).

L and I eat a lot of pesto during the summer months, especially July and August, when basil is at its peak and you see piles of it at farm stands and grocery shops. When I'm making a batch for dinner, I often make an extra batch or two to freeze for later use. The bright, sunny flavour is a welcome respite during our long New England winters.

Basil Pesto

2 cups firmly packed basil leaves, rinsed in a bowl of water and gently dried
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts for grinding
1/4 cup pine nuts to add whole
2 cloves garlic
1/2 teaspoon coarse kosher or sea salt, plus more to taste (use a little less if you use fine salt)

1/2 cup freshly grated parmegiano-reggiano cheese
4 tablespoons freshly grated romano cheese

Put the basil, olive oil, 1/4 cup pine nuts, garlic and salt into a food processor and pulse a few times until you have a paste dotted with small, recognizable pieces of basil, but not so long that you reduce the mixture to a fine paste. You can also use a mortar and pestle (grind to a paste), or by hand with a sharp knife or mezzaluna (finely mince).

If you're making a batch for the freezer, stir in the remaining 1/4 cup pine nuts and stop here. Fill a freezer-safe container with the pesto and toss into the freezer; add the cheeses later, when the pesto has thawed. Containers of frozen pesto can be thawed in the refrigerator or in a bowl of warm water.

If you are using a food processor or knife, stir in the cheeses and remaining pine nuts by hand. Do not be tempted to add the cheeses using the food processor- the resulting texture will not be the same. If you are using a mortar and pestle, add the cheeses and grind until well incorporated.

When you're ready to use the pesto, taste and correct for salt. Toss with hot pasta and serve immediately.

Peacock Orchids

2007-08-10T18:15:00.001-04:00

The peacock orchid, or Acidanthera bicolor, is actually not an orchid at all. It's a close relative of the gladiolus, native to Ethiopia, and it takes a very, very long time to flower. I planted these in early May, and the first few have finally started to bloom!

Plant them under a window, so that their sweet fragrance wafts through when the wind blows.

Ina Garten's Summer Fruit Crostata

2007-08-07T20:41:00.002-04:00

Tonight, all of a sudden and without warning, I had the irresistible urge to bake. I'm not one of those people who loves to bake all kinds of adventurous treats in my spare time. I can bake certain things, but if I'm putzing around in the kitchen, I usually prefer to be cooking.

We had a huge platter of quickly-ripening peaches in the dining room (I read that you're supposed to ripen them stem-side-down in a cool room, and our kitchen isn't air conditioned), and I really wanted to bake something I'd never made before. In a flash of inspiration, I remembered seeing a crostata recipe in Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa at Home cookbook. Crostatas sound so tempting in a romantic, rustic sort of way (just what the cookbook editors want, I am sure), so I decided to give the recipe a try.

So, now I have a confession to make. I have an irrational fear of dough, crusts, and anything else that requires that sort of baking precision. I've had tart shells turn out beautifully (by accident), and I've had them fail miserably (more often than not). I haven't yet got a technique down, nor do I have a favourite, perfect, never-fails recipe. My mother has both, and she sets a high standard- I grew up eating her beautiful, flaky, tender tart shells. I would love to be able to make them, too.

It's now 8 pm, I've made the dough, and it's been resting in the fridge for exactly an hour. I'm an impatient baker, so I'm off to roll it out, fill it, and pop it in the oven.

The good news is that L is napping, so if the crostata dough comes out truly awful, I can rescue the fruit, share it with the dog, and L will never know. Bonus: after that, the dog will definitely love me more than he loves L.

Wish me luck!
........................

Oh, frabjous day! The crostata is beautiful! Beautifully messy, that is, and very tasty.

The filling was piled dangerously high, but it cooked down to a manageable amount. The crust is wonderfully flaky, though I'm afraid I was overzealous and I rolled it out a bit more than I meant to. It doesn't seem to have suffered much, so hopefully this really is one of those perfect, consistently-good dough recipes that I keep hearing about.

I'm not going to reproduce the recipe here, because I think that counts as copyright infringement or something equally bad. I can, however, tell you that it's very similar to Ina Garten's apple crostata recipe. Instead of the apple and spice filling, I used 1 1/2 pounds of unpeeled, sliced peaches and 1/2 pint blueberries. As directed in the cookbook (summer fruit) version, I tossed the sliced fruit in 1 tablespoon sugar, 2 tablespoons orange juice, and the orange zest also called for in the apple crostata recipe. I then used the fruit mixture as you would the spiced apple filling.

It was a hard sacrifice as far as blueberries are concerned, since I have an awful tendency to hoard them all for myself, but it was definitely worth it! We have some strawberries in the fridge, and the dough recipe makes enough for two crostatas; I suspect I'll get the itch to make another fruit crostata before the week is out! All in the name of valuable and important baking practise, of course...

2007 Restaurant Week- Summer Edition

2007-08-05T00:30:00.001-04:00

Summer Restaurant Week starts today!

If you live in the Boston area and you haven't heard of Restaurant Week, I encourage you to check out the official website and the unofficial guide.

From Sunday, August 5 - Friday, August 10 and Sunday, August 12 - Friday, August 17, you can enjoy a 3-course prix fixe lunch or dinner for $20.07 or $33.07, respectively, at participating restaurants in the Boston metro area. Some restaurants offer wine pairings for a small additional charge.

I've made reservations for L and myself at a restaurant we first (and last) visited during Restaurant Week 2005: La Morra in Brookline. The food was memorable, the wine reasonably priced and well-paired, and parking was surprisingly easy (no small consideration in Boston, and Brookline in particular). We still talk about the addictive fried green olives, and I could eat the desserts three times a day. Their menu for this go round can be found here. I can already guess which dishes L and I will choose!

We are limiting ourselves to two reservations this summer, and I'm having a tough time deciding on the second. I'm hoping we can agree on something soon, as Restaurant Week reservations go quickly!

What are you waiting for?

UPDATE: We weren't able to get reservations at lumière (I waited too long), so our second reservation is at Sel de la Terre. I've heard rave reviews, and we've been wanting to go for a while. Their menu isn't posted, so this one will be a surprise. I can't wait!

Garlic Scapes

2007-08-04T12:34:00.001-04:00

A relative newcomer to the American produce world, the garlic scape is a strange and striking thing indeed. When hardneck garlic* starts to grow, thin shoots make their way out of the garlic bulb. These shoots- the garlic scapes- are edible while tender and still-curled.

If allowed to grow and straighten out, they will harden, turn garlic-skin-white, flower, and slow the growth of the garlic plant. Farmers would snap them off, to direct the garlic's energy back to the bulb, and toss them straight on to the compost pile. Luckily for us, someone discovered that they're not just edible, but delicious, too!

This year, we encountered garlic scapes as part of our farm share, and I learned that you can use them as you would chives, spring onions, or garlic cloves. Chopped or minced, raw or briefly cooked, they add a nice texture and subtle, green, garlic undercurrent without overpowering other flavours.

Birthday Lemon Curd

2007-07-31T19:12:00.004-04:00

L has never liked cakes. He does, however, love lemon curd above almost all other desserts. So, for his birthday a few weeks ago, in place of a birthday cake, I made a big bowl of lemon curd with surprisingly juicy lemons and eggs with vibrant yellow yolks from the Farmers' Market at Harvard.

Lemon curd is slow-cooked and eggy, much like a custard, with a bright, tangy citrus bite. Thick and prone to setting, it's perfect as a filling in tarts and cakes; it's easily spread with a knife, too, and is fabulous on scones and toast.

The summer we lived in Egypt (more on that later), I made two lemon curd tarts for L's surprise birthday dinner with friends. The lemon curd itself couldn't be a total surprise, though, because I needed help juicing the 80 or so tiny, dry, green limons (the closest thing to lemons we could find) it took to make two full batches.

Making the tart shells was an interesting process, to say the least. To make the pate brisee, I had to cut huge blocks of butter into what I hoped were American- sized sticks. I didn't have a rolling pin, so I used a Fayrouz malt soda can to roll out the dough. I realize now that I should have used a press-into-pan dough recipe! Blind baking the tart shells was trickier, as our small oven had a solid metal door and three heat settings: low flame, medium flame, and high flame. I decided to use the medium flame setting, and I was so nervous about the whole operation that I opened the oven every few minutes to make sure the shells weren't about to burn. For reasons entirely unrelated to skill, the tart shells came out beautifully flaky and tender.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the same beginner's luck with the lemon curd. Everything seemed fine at first, but after I'd poured it into the cooled shells and left the tarts on the counter to set, the lemon curd separated into a weepy, curdled mess. The culprit? I suspect it was a combination of the 115'F Egyptian summer heat and my fear of putting the loose tarts into the fridge before they'd had time to set. I carefully scooped the lemon curd back into the saucepan, cooked it a bit longer, poured it back into the tart shells, cleaned up the edges as best I could, and put the tarts directly into the fridge. Thankfully, they set beautifully the second time.

This recipe comes directly from L's mom, who makes gorgeous, highly-addictive lemon curd tarts. She has infinite patience and great skill when it comes to baking, and she loves making tiny desserts, so she often makes hundreds of bite-sized, delicate tartlets. In order to make this batch of lemon curd last a bit longer, and to preserve my sanity, I poured the lemon curd into a bowl and we ate it, spread thick, on crusty baguettes and sweet, eggy challah. We didn't miss the birthday cake at all.

Lemon Curd
Enough for one medium-sized tart

5 large egg yolks, beaten
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup lemon juice, squeezed from room temperature lemons
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 tablespoons grated lemon rind

Strain the beaten egg yolks through a sieve into a small (1-2 quarts) heavy saucepan. Add the sugar and lemon juice, stir to combine, and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, for about 10-12 minutes. The mixture will start to thicken a bit after about 8 minutes.

Stir in the butter, a piece at a time (let each piece melt before you add the next), until fully incorporated. Stir in the rind. Let cool completely. Pour into a baked tart shell, or cover the surface with plastic wrap, store in the fridge, and use as a spread for toast.

Note: If your eggs tend to scramble, you can make this in a double boiler set over barely simmering water.

National Milk Chocolate Day

2007-07-28T00:00:00.001-04:00

Today is National Milk Chocolate Day!

A bit of history, courtesy of the Online Etymology Dictionary:
chocolate: 1604, from Nahuatl xocolatl, from xococ "bitter" + atl "water." Brought to Spain for first time 1520. John Hannon (financed by Dr. James Baker) started the first chocolate factory in the U.S. in Dorchester, 1780; Baker later founded Baker's Chocolate. Chocolate chip is from 1940.
"To a Coffee-house, to drink jocolatte, very good" [Pepys, "Diary," Nov. 24, 1664].

How will you celebrate?

Clothilde Dusoulier's Oven-Roasted Ratatouille

2007-07-26T21:39:00.001-04:00

In June, I wrote about Pixar's delightful new summer movie: Ratatouille. I loved it, and I am happy to see that I am not the only one!

Of course, while leaving the movie theatre, I realized that I was going to crave ratatouille until I could get my hands on some zucchini. Lucky for me, Pixar timed the movie's release perfectly: midsummer marks the beginning of zucchini season in New England, and without fail, gardens and farmers' markets are flooded with the shiny, delicately flavoured fruits (yep- biologically speaking, they're both squash and fruit). The farm (as we call it) is fabulous when it comes to strategic planting, and last week the eggplant, zucchini and summer squash made their first appearances together at the weekly pickup tables. The lily-white summer onions are coming out in full force, so we took home a huge bunch of them as well.

I knew just what to do.

Last summer, after an uncomfortable evening spent making a very traditional version on a hot stovetop, I stumbled across an easy recipe that immediately became the only ratatouille recipe I will ever use: Clothilde Dusoulier's Ratatouille Confite au Four (Oven-Roasted Ratatouille).

I omit the green peppers, substitute a mix of regular and cherry tomatoes, double the onions, and add summer squash.

Just as Clothilde* says, roasting with a bit of salt gives everything a gorgeous savoury-sweet flavour, with a good texture and no trace of mushiness. And she's absolutely right- the flavour of this ratatouille improves the next day, and the day after that, which means it's a perfect make-ahead dish when you're having lunch or dinner guests. If you have an overabundance of zucchini, or even if you don't, I recommend trying her recipe. You just might find yourself eating it all summer long!

* I don't know her personally, but I feel a bit silly calling her "Ms. Dusoulier"! I hope she doesn't mind...

Super Chilis + Coconut Chicken Curry

2007-07-23T18:13:00.002-04:00

This year, we decided to indulge in a few small pots of hot peppers for the container garden. I went for a varied collection and ended up with Habañero, Hot Portugal, Thai Dragon, and these:

The peppers took weeks to grow tiny blossoms...

... and then, in the blink of an eye, we had plump little peppers everywhere! The weather here has vascillated wildly between searing heat and cooling thunderstorms, and it seems that the peppers have enjoyed it far more than we have.

We have been trying to use up these little pods of fiery goodness as fast as we can, since they can be eaten at any stage. If you let them grow long enough they turn yellowish-green, then bright rusty orange, and finally a sizzling shade of red.

These chilis work especially well in one of our favourite curries (original recipe courtesy of Gourmet). This is the first curry I ever made, and my paper copy is now smudged and well-worn. Because I can't leave recipes alone, I offer my own tweaked version here. If you have the time or a willing friend/sous-chef and can make two curries, this goes very well alongside a tomato-based jhalfrazi or a creamy yogurt-based korma.

Coconut Chicken Curry
Serves 6

3 medium-sized yellow onions, diced
6 shallots, peeled
6 large garlic cloves, peeled
one 2-inch piece fresh gingerroot, peeled
3 tablespoons curry powder or curry paste
one 14-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons safflower or other high-heat-tolerant oil
one fresh chili , chopped (optional)
1 cinnamon stick
2 whole cloves
1 star anise
1-2 teaspoons salt + more to taste if needed

3 pounds boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1 inch pieces

In a food processor or with a knife, mince shallots, garlic, and ginger.

Pat chicken dry with paper towels and season with salt just before browning. In a large, heavy skillet, heat oil over medium heat until hot and brown chicken, transferring to a large plate when done. You may need to do this in a few batches.

When the chicken is done, add onions to the pan and saute until translucent and golden, stirring frequently. Add shallot paste and curry powder and and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add chicken (with any juices that have accumulated on the plate) and remaining ingredients, and turn the heat to low. Simmer covered, stirring occasionally, until cooked through, 15-20 minutes. Taste and correct for salt.

Discard cinnamon stick, clove, and star anise. Serve over rice.

Black Bread

2007-07-19T19:46:00.002-04:00

During my 3rd year of college and the summer afterwards, I was lucky enough to conduct my theatre and Russian studies at a somewhat-famous theatre school in Moscow, Russia.

My wonderfully crazy Polish roommate* and I lived with 30 Russian students in a tiny dorm right smack in the centre of Moscow. As with most cities, the centre was the ultimate in prime real estate- we were a 15-20 minute walk to school, which just happened to be the next street over from the Kremlin and Red Square.

The dorm was modest and cozy, and I made some of my closest friends there. We had small kitchens on each floor that got the job done, though the ovens were notoriously unreliable and cooking became an engaging, and often hilarious, group activity, since you were able to fit approximately one and a half, or two very slender, people in each kitchen at a time.

As ten-hour days of classes, held six days a week, often left us too tired to cook anything for breakfast, most of us ate черный хлеб, or black bread, with various toppings in the morning. Black bread is incredibly dark, of course, and the flavour is a hard-to-describe combination of malty sweetness** and rye tang. I think its closest relative must be European pumpernickel.

I have two favourite black bread toppings, the first being butter and Hero sweet orange marmalade, and the second being creamy Laughing Cow cheese wedges (the kind that come individually wrapped in very thin tinfoil) and a few slices of tomato.

Black bread is something that I've had a very hard time finding in the states. When I came back from Russia, I went a few years without tasting it at all. A few weeks ago, however, I found one familiar-looking loaf at my favourite grocery store, hidden amidst the baguettes, foccacias, challah, brioche and country breads. I couldn't believe it at first- would it taste the same as the bread I'd eaten Russia, or would it be just different enough to be frustratingly disappointing?

I took the plunge, apprehensive as I was, and I am thrilled to report that it's exactly the same as my beloved Russian bread. The good news is that L prefers other breads, so we can pick one up each week and I will have the entire loaf to myself! If you have a European bakery or international grocery store near you, keep an eye out for black bread. It makes fantastic toast and delicious sandwiches.

* The crazy roommate quickly became one of my dearest friends. She once came very close to marrying a charming Italian man who built her a bicycle out of an odd assortment of stolen bicycle parts. Romantically bohemian, non? In the interest of witness protection, I am not at liberty to say where he procured the bicycle parts.

** This sweetness is the result of our friend, the Maillard reaction

Roasted Summer Vegetables

2007-07-16T20:40:00.005-04:00

golden beets

Until recently, I thought that I would never, ever like beets. There was something about their earthiness that was too much like actual dirt, and I don't mean the moist, luxurious, rich, fragrant black-earth type of dirt.

Then, we went to dinner at The Elephant Walk, a fabulous Cambodian and French restaurant in Cambridge. I decided to give beets another try and ordered an extraordinary warm goat cheese and roasted beet salad. The salty tang of the goat cheese perfectly showcased the delicate, earthy sweetness of the tender beets, and it was the first time that I was able to really, truly enjoy them (happiness of the, "I'd definitely order these again!" variety). I started to think that I might secretly like beets after all! I'm always grateful when someone proves me wrong about these things.

Last week, we brought home bunches of tiny beets from the farm, and I wanted to recreate the flavours of that salad. I know it seems absurd to roast anything at the height of summer, but it really does bring out the best flavours of these vegetables. And best of all, this is the time when beets, onions and carrots are tiny, tender and at their summer peaks. Try these on one of those rare cool summer nights when you can bear to turn on the oven.

Red beets stain anything and everything; unless you don't mind violet-stained hands and clothing, be sure to wear an apron.

These vegetables are particularly good alongside roast chicken or as part of an antipasto platter. I love them as finger food- no forks needed, and on top of toasted, goat-cheese-smeared baguette slices, if they last that long!

Roasted Summer Vegetables
serves 4 as a side course

6-8 small red beets, peeled* and quartered
6-8 small golden beets, peeled* and quartered
2 small yellow onions, peeled and quartered
2 small red onions, peeled and quartered
6-8 small carrots, peeled and cut in half widthwise
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon orange juice (optional)
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
3 sprigs fresh rosemary

Preheat oven to 400’F.

Toss the beets, onions, carrots, olive oil, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and rosemary sprigs in a roasting pan until everything is evenly coated.

Roast for 35-45 minutes, tossing once or twice, until the vegetables are tender when pierced with a fork. Remove from the oven and toss with the orange juice, if you wish.

Taste and correct for salt. Serve hot or at room temperature.

*To peel the beets, use a sharp vegetable peeler. If you have rubber or latex gloves handy, wear those while you peel and slice. If you don't have gloves, you can hold the beet firmly, while you peel it, in the palm of your hand with a folded paper towel between your palm and the beet. Otherwise, just hang onto them barehanded and enjoy the gorgeous red stains on your fingers!

Chimichurri

2007-07-13T23:40:00.004-04:00

Chimichurri is an Argentinian marinade and sauce that, traditionally speaking, accompanies grilled beef. I first tasted it at Tango, a fabulous Argentinian restaurant in Arlington. They have bottles of it on each table, and you are encouraged to pour it liberally on the vast array of beautifully grilled meats on their menu (if you go to Tango, try the flank steak- it's fabulously juicy and flavourful).

From what I've read, this will sound blasphemous to purists, but I'm going to say it anyway: chimichurri is good- really, really good- on just about anything!

We recently hot-smoked a pork loin for a dinner with friends, and I decided that chimichurri would be a fabulous complement to the smoky, tender meat. I naïvely thought it would be easy to find a good, straightforward recipe. It turns out that finding chimichurri recipes is easy... but deciding which one to use is not so simple!

As with many recipes, it seems, there are numerous debates as to what makes up the authentic version. Cilantro? Hot pepper? Tomatoes? Bell peppers? Carrots? The debates are numerous, and I quickly found myself lost in a sea of recipes. In the end, I decided that I should be more adventurous, and that I really didn't want carrots in my chimichurri.

I started with the basic common-thread ingredients: olive oil, vinegar, parsley, oregano, garlic and salt. Because L and I both love strong, spicy flavours, I added a few things I saw in the simplest versions: onion, lemon juice and spicy pepper. I pulsed everything briefly in the food processor, asked our friends to taste and review, adjusted a few things, pulsed again, and pretty soon ended up with a mixture that everyone liked. It turned out great the first day, but the leftovers were even better the second day.

Add this to your make-ahead list, or keep a jar of it in the fridge (if you're as addicted as we are), and you'll have one less thing to worry about at meal time.

Chimichurri
makes approximately 2 cups

1 large bunch flat leaf parsley
2 large or 4 small stalks oregano, leaves reserved and stems discarded
5-8 cloves garlic (start with 5)
1/2 of one medium red onion
2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
2-3 tablespoons red wine vinegar (start with 2)
juice of 1 lemon, plus more to taste
1-2 teaspoons sea salt (start with 1), plus more to taste
1 small spicy pepper, stem removed (optional)

Put all ingredients in a food processor and pulse until you have a thick paste. If you don't have a food processor, mince the herbs, onion, garlic and spicy pepper as finely as you can, then stir in the liquid ingredients. Taste and correct for vinegar, lemon juice, garlic, and salt- you're aiming for a bold, savoury flavour here, but don't forget that chimichurri will intensify as it sits.

If possible, let the chimichurri sit for at least one hour before serving.

UPDATE: I recently experimented a bit and made this with:

lime juice instead of lemon
thyme instead of oregano
small, newly harvested summer onions instead of red onion

It was just as good! We also discovered that, like pesto, chimichurri freezes really well.

Oriental Lilies

2007-07-11T12:14:00.001-04:00

The first oriental lilies have bloomed, vivid pink and sweetly fragrant. It looks as though we will see many more blossoms this week!

Stovetop Smoker + Herb-Rubbed Smoked Pork Loin

2007-07-10T16:20:00.003-04:00

Last Christmas, in the spirit of his love of meat and charcuterie in particular, I gave L a stovetop smoker. The idea, for now anyway, is that we'd try out basic hot-smoking, and if he really enjoyed it, later on down the road (i.e. when we have $400 to spend and a lot more space), we could look into getting a nice big multi-tiered smoker. If we win the lottery tomorrow we can get one immediately, of course.

I was a bit wary of the stovetop smoker, so I read a lot of reviews before I bought it. It seemed impossible that someone could engineer a gadget that works well but doesn't fill your house with smoke or spontaneously combust (don't ask me where I got that idea). The people who reviewed it made no mention of house fires; in fact, they really seemed to like it. I decided to go for it.

It's important to note that with the smoker comes an assortment of wood chips and, thankfully, a helpful instruction booklet. Since I had no idea what to do with the thing beyond setting it up, I bought L a cookbook specifically written for stovetop smokers, too. If you're in the market for a smoker like this one, I highly recommend this cookbook- it has some good straightforward recipes and helpful wood-to-food matching and timing tips for those who want to strike out on their own.

Another great feature of this smoker, and something that sealed the deal for me, is that the entire ensemble is dishwasher-safe, so if you have a dishwasher, you can stick the smoker right in the after you're done.

We got started late and have used it only twice so far, both times to smoke a pork loin. The first time, L brined one 1-pound pork loin for two hours, rubbed it with garlic-rosemary paste, then smoked it for 30 minutes with hickory chips. The pork loin was small enough that it was cooked all the way through by the hot smoke, and we didn't have to finish it in the oven.

The second time, I brined two 1-pound pork loins for 7 hours, rubbed them with the same garlic-rosemary paste, smoked them for 30 minutes with applewood chips, then put the entire smoker into a preheated 400'F oven for 20 minutes. Both versions were wonderfully smoky and juicy, though we both preferred the mellowness of the applewood to the barbecue sauce aroma of the hickory.

For those of you who happen to have a smoker, here's the recipe we used. If you don't have a smoker, don't worry- you can roast the pork in a 400'F oven (20-30 minutes per pound) with tasty results.

Herb-Rubbed Smoked Pork Loin
Adapted from Smokin': Recipes for Smoking Ribs, Salmon, Chicken, Mozzarella, and More with Your Stovetop Smoker

for the brine:
3 sprigs fresh rosemary
3/4 cup kosher salt
1 tablespoon sugar

for the herb paste:
1/3 cup fresh rosemary leaves
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
10 cloves of garlic, peeled and halved (it seems like a lot, but the flavour will be mellow)

two 1-pound boneless loin of pork pieces

To make the brine: Heat 3 quarts water, 3 sprigs fresh rosemary, salt and sugar to simmer in a large pot. Stir until the sugar and salt are dissolved. Remove the pot from heat and cool to room temperature.

Submerge the pork in the brine and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to 12 hours.

To smoke the pork: When the brining is done, put the garlic cloves, 1/3 cup rosemary leaves, olive oil and pepper in a food processor and process until everything is finely chopped (or just finely chop everything and mix to combine).

Set up the smoker with 4-5 tablespoons of applewood chips spooned right into the middle of the pan.

Drain the brined pork and pat it dry. Rub the herb paste all over the pork. Put the pork on the metal smoker rack and fit the cover on tightly (you can bend it a little to do this), making sure that it does not touch the sides of the smoker, if possible. Put the smoker on the stovetop and center it so that the burner flame is directly underneath the wood chips. Turn the burner to medium heat, set a timer for 20 minutes, and the let smoking begin! After the pork has smoked for 20 minutes, turn the oven to 400'F and place a rack in the middle. Smoke the pork on the stovetop for another 10 minutes, transfer the entire smoker ensemble to the oven to finish cooking.

When the pork is cooked all the way through (until the center registers 155-160'F on an instant read thermometer- about 10-15 minutes in the oven), remove it from the smoker and cover with foil for 15 minutes to let the meat rest.

Carve against the grain of the meat fibers, to avoid chewiness, and serve.

Caldo Verde / Portuguese Kale Soup

2007-07-08T17:09:00.002-04:00

We've been taking home enormous bunches of kale from the farm, and in the interest of putting it to good use, I've been planning to make a huge pot of caldo verde, or Portuguese kale soup.

Caldo verde, literally "green soup," is said to have originated in the northern region of Portugal. It's eaten all over the country, and is considered by many to be the Portuguese national dish.

It doesn't look like the most beautiful soup, but don't be fooled by its humble appearance. Wonderfully comforting and surprisingly filling, it is thick with creamy potato and thin ribbons of jade-green kale. It's also a great way to incorporate healthy greens into your diet: kale is naturally high in antioxidants, calcium, and vitamin B. If you're feeling under the weather, this is the perfect antidote (bonus: if you choose spicy over mild chouriço (pork sausage), it will clear your sinuses, too!).

If you're vegetarian, omit the chouriço, substitute vegetable broth for the chicken broth, and add a cup or two of cooked white beans for protein.

You can eat caldo verde as a first course, or on its own as a one-dish dinner. Try it in June and July, when kale is at its peak.

Caldo Verde - Portuguese Kale Soup
serves 4 as a main course

1 large bunch of kale, cut into as fine chiffonade as you can manage*
3 pounds small Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
3 cloves garlic, minced
one handful scallions, sliced into thick rounds
8 ounces mild or spicy chouriço, sliced into thin rounds
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more to taste (this will depend on the saltiness of your chouriço and broth)
64 ounces (8 cups) chicken broth

Toss the chouriço rounds into a large heavy pot (3+ quarts, preferably enamel) and turn burner heat to medium. Cook for 3-5 minutes, until they release a fair amount of their paprika-laced oil, but before they get really browned. Turn off the heat, remove the chouriço to a plate and pour off all but a tablespoon of the oil.

Return the burner heat to medium. Pour 2 tablespoons of olive oil into the pot with the chouriço oil and let it heat up for about 30 seconds. Add garlic and scallions and saute for 2 minutes, stirring often, until the garlic is slightly coloured. Do not let the garlic get too brown, or it will turn bitter. Add potatoes cubes and broth, and turn the heat to high. Cover and bring to a boil. As soon as it boils, turn the soup back to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, for 15-20 minutes, until the potatoes are tender. When the potatoes are done, use a potato masher (carefully, as the soup is still hot) to coarsely mash the potato cubes. This will give you a lovely thickened broth with a satisfying chunky texture. Add the kale ribbons and gently simmer the soup for another few minutes, until the kale has softened slightly.

I like to let it rest, covered and off the heat, for 15 minutes, to let the flavours soften and meld. Serve with thick slices of good, crusty bread.

* To chiffonade kale, break off the stems where they start to produce leaves. Pile 6-8 leaves on top of each other and roll them up lengthwise, tightly, like a cigar. Starting at the top of the roll, use a very sharp knife to cut the thinnest slices you can manage (if you're like me, you'll end up with some thick ones- this isok !). Continue slicing down the cigar until you reach the bottom end of the kale. You should have a pile of very thin kale ribbons.

A Fungus Among Us + Natural Cleaning Solutions

2007-07-05T21:48:00.002-04:00

What do mushrooms and insulation have in common? More than you might think!

Now that I've got you thinking green, I want to put in a quick plug for natural cleaning products. We've been using natural, cruelty-free products like shampoo, lotion, and toothpaste for a while now, and we have made sustainable/local food and energy-conserving choices whenever possible. I've been happy with our efforts (and the products we've found) so far, but I'm always thinking that we could do more.

So, last year we made the switch to natural cleaning solutions. I'd heard good things about Seventh Generation- a Burlington, Vermont-based company- and it turns out that (around here, at least) their prices are not a penny above our old products.

Fueled by great reviews, good prices and some sobering statistics, I took the plunge and bought their dishwasher powder, liquid dish soap, laundry detergent, and bathroom tissue. Initially, I was a little doubtful about the idea of natural cleaning products, since the brands we used to buy clean so darn well. How could anything without chemicals do the same job?

Now that I've used a bit of everything in the past few months, I am wondering why we didn't switch sooner. Our dishes, pots, pans, sheets, towels, clothing and more are sparkling clean... without the added pollution!

This month, I am making the switch to Method kitchen and bathroom cleaners. After a month or two, I'll let you know how they compare to our regular (soon to be old) products!

(Wondering about the title? Goofy, I know. But how could I resist?!)

UPDATE: I'm definitely a fan of the Method cleaning solutions! They clean up grease and dirt easily, and I'm not stuck scrubbing until my arm wants to fall off. I think I'd prefer a fainter scent, but I'm happy that they don't smell like chemicals.

National Ice Cream Month

2007-07-04T16:04:00.003-04:00

sticky toffee pudding ice cream

Since 1984, the US has celebrated National Ice Cream Month each July and National Ice Cream Day on the third Sunday of the month (July 15, 2007).

It seems that everyone around here goes a little crazy for ice cream during the summer months. Epicurious named their top ten favourite ice cream parlours in the US; I was happy to see that Toscanini's, a well-known Cambridge institution among ice cream lovers, made the cut for their fabulous flavours like Grape Nuts, cake batter, prune and armagnac, cardamom, and burnt caramel. In fact, the New York Times has named Toscanini's ice cream "the best ice cream in the world." If you can't get to a cone or pint of Toscanini's, see if a shop near you made the Epicurious list!

If you, like me, are interested in random culinary facts, you might like to know that, according to the International Dairy Foods Association, the most popular ice cream flavours in the US are: vanilla, chocolate, neapolitan, strawberry, and cookies and cream. I don't have an absolute 100% favourite flavour, but if I had to choose, I might pick the sweet cream ice cream that L's parents magically procure each summer from a small ice cream shop in Maine. It's delicious, and I have no idea where they get it. I wonder if it isn't better that way?!

our ice cream scoop (c. 1930 and still going strong!)

When then-President Ronald Reagan proclaimed the US ice cream holidays in 1984, he asked people to "observe these events with appropriate ceremonies and activities." Another excuse to eat ice cream? I can do that!

If ice cream is not your thing (but how could you?!), July is also National Baked Bean Month*, National Hot Dog Month, and perhaps my favourite, National July Belongs to Blueberries Month. Can you find a better excuse to eat up?

* I'd like to know why something like baked beans, which in my mind means long heat-up-your-kitchen cooking, has been relegated to July. Why?!

Snapdragons

2007-07-01T13:13:00.002-04:00

When I said (yesterday) that our snapdragons were going to bloom soon, I had no idea that we would have 12 blossoms this morning!

I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so there's not much cooking going on around here at the moment. Perhaps L and I will be up for making something later today. Given the cool weather and my icky state, I'm thinking that some comforting soup might be in order.

Freesia and Asters

2007-06-30T12:19:00.003-04:00

Freesia

The humid heatwave we experienced last week (ugh!) seems to have encouraged all the plants on the porch to grow exponentially (hooray!). We somehow managed to keep up our watering schedule, even though it was so hot that we found ourselves watering the thirstiest plants twice a day. I was, naturally, most worried about the spicy peppers, but they seem to have pulled through just fine.

Thankfully, the weather has cooled down a bit for the weekend, and we can turn off the air conditioners and open the windows again.

The freesia- a favourite in bouquets (and high school prom corsages) because of its heady fragrance and long cut-flower life- produced its first blossoms this morning. A mix of hot orange, bright red and wine colours, they're already attracting the neighborhood bees and butterflies!

Freesia

The Matsumoto Asters have started to bloom, too, and it looks as though the snapdragons aren't too far behind. The gladiolus and oriental lilies still have a few weeks to go.

Matsumoto Aster

Kohlrabi, Tomato and Sugar Snap Pea Salad

2007-06-29T21:17:00.003-04:00

We've been eating a lot of salads these days; this particular combination was an attempt to use up an odd assortment of vegetables before they lost their crunch. I'd never tasted kohlrabi before, but I knew that it can be eaten raw. Turns out that it tastes something like a cross between a cabbage heart and a radish, with a thick skin and crunchy, peppery flesh.

I was pleasantly surprised by how well these vegetables work together! However, I do realize that you might not have all of these things on hand. Substitute whatever seasonal vegetables you might have, but don't omit the macerated onions and lemon juice, as they make up the dressing.

Kohlrabi, Tomato, Sugar Snap Pea Salad
serves 4 as a side course

1 large head red or green leaf lettuce, chopped with a very sharp knife
1 cup mizuna greens or arugula, chopped
1 medium kohlrabi, cut into short, thin slices
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes, quartered
1/2 cup sugar snap peas, halved
1/4 cup macerated red onions with liquid
juice of 1/2 large lemon
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon sea or kosher salt

Toss tomatoes with the sugar and salt in a bowl. Let this mixture sit at room temperature for 10-15 minutes.

Toss the rest of the vegetables together in a large salad bowl. Add the tomatoes and any juice that has accumulated in the bottom of the bowl. Add the lemon juice and toss well to coat.

Poppies

2007-06-25T11:51:00.005-04:00

I am feeling refreshed after a blissfully lazy weekend. We didn't do much of anything, and though we didn't make it to the Greek Festival held yearly at a nearby church, we did get takeout from my favourite Greek restaurant. I do love to cook, but taking breaks and enjoying the unusually cool air in our kitchen are welcome treats.

The poppies on the porch are blooming like mad. Their vivid colours remind me of summer fruit, and perhaps they will inspire me in the kitchen!

Summer's First Strawberries

2007-06-23T20:01:00.002-04:00

Strawberries- tiny, ruby-red, and bursting with flavour- have arrived! We took home our first few pints, straight from the pick-your-own farm and still warm from the sun. My relationship with berries of all kinds is fairly straightforward and absolutely gluttonous: give me a half hour alone with them, and I will eat every single one.

When it comes to the first summer strawberries, I don't do much in the way of heat-centric cooking. We eat them whole and unadorned when impatient, with plain yogurt and a drizzle of maple syrup (L) or honey (me) for dessert, and on top of sweet cream ice cream for special occasions.

If you want a classic technique, sprinkle sugar over sliced strawberries and allow them to sit- they will release juices to make their own sweet syrup. If you're looking for an unusual and refreshing treat, especially one that will surprise your dining mate or dinner guests, drizzle a small amount of good-quality (preferably aged) balsamic vinegar over whole or sliced berries.

Check your local newspaper or town/city/state website for information on pick-your-own farms near you. If you live in Massachusetts, I can give you a head start.