Sunday December 30
Just a grilled strip steak and the whipped sweet potatoes left over from Christmas. After all the elaborate food we've been eating, a touch of simplicity is nice.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Black Bean Soup with Apple and Ham Hock
Saturday December 29
For Christmas, David gave Holt just what he needed: his own copy of The Herbfarm Cookbook by Jerry Traunfeld. Now we can finally take the library copy back, as we've had it out perilously close to the 9-week limit.
We were going to use the giant ham bone from our giant Christmas ham by cooking up our take on Moosewood's Brazilian black bean soup, with the addition of the ham. But lo, Holt's new acquisition offered the perfect recipe, including a pork product
We used the ham bone instead of bacon, of course, and pressure-cooked it and the beans. The result was very good and flavorful, though next time we'll skip the syrup, as the apples make it quite sweet enough for our tastes.
For Christmas, David gave Holt just what he needed: his own copy of The Herbfarm Cookbook by Jerry Traunfeld. Now we can finally take the library copy back, as we've had it out perilously close to the 9-week limit.
We were going to use the giant ham bone from our giant Christmas ham by cooking up our take on Moosewood's Brazilian black bean soup, with the addition of the ham. But lo, Holt's new acquisition offered the perfect recipe, including a pork product
We used the ham bone instead of bacon, of course, and pressure-cooked it and the beans. The result was very good and flavorful, though next time we'll skip the syrup, as the apples make it quite sweet enough for our tastes.
'Ahi Coconut Curry
Thursday December 27
It was time for a bit of a break from Christmas specialties. We went back to Padma Lakshmi's wonderful recipe, which we last made on May 17.
Again, we didn't have any fennel, so we used extra shallots. And we didn't have mahi mahi, so we substituted 'ahi 'ahi (tuna) steaks, with excellent results.
And this time we DID have (frozen) kaffir lime leaves, which we obtained shortly after the May bout of curry to make coconut-lime chicken with scallions. They definitely add to the piquant flavor.
The coriander garnish, by the way, was picked from the garden, despite below-freezing temperatures. I am astounded at how the little plants are holding on. The fennel, however, is but a memory.
It was time for a bit of a break from Christmas specialties. We went back to Padma Lakshmi's wonderful recipe, which we last made on May 17.
Again, we didn't have any fennel, so we used extra shallots. And we didn't have mahi mahi, so we substituted 'ahi 'ahi (tuna) steaks, with excellent results.
And this time we DID have (frozen) kaffir lime leaves, which we obtained shortly after the May bout of curry to make coconut-lime chicken with scallions. They definitely add to the piquant flavor.
The coriander garnish, by the way, was picked from the garden, despite below-freezing temperatures. I am astounded at how the little plants are holding on. The fennel, however, is but a memory.
Santa Fe Soup and Cornbread
Wednesday December 26
This was the Broughtons' day to cook, so JoLinn chopped up a skilletful of Schad's ham and made creamy scrambled eggs; Caroline said they were the best eggs she had ever had in all her nine years.
Unfortunately, everyone had to leave before dinner, as they all had a long drive home. So Holt and Barbara were left with a strangely quiet house, and two refrigerators full of leftovers.
For dinner, we had the last of some Santa Fe soup that JoDee had served for lunch on Monday, poured over a wedge of Holt's cornbread (made for post-Christmas-dinner supper, using the 15" cast iron skillet David gave him for Christmas), and dusted with cheddar cheese. Mmmmm.
Here's a recipe for Santa Fe soup, which seems to be a popular dish for campers.
But JoDee has promised she'll send us her own hints as well.
Ham with All the Trimmings
Tuesday December 25
Today was our responsibility, so we began by setting out a breakfast buffet of hot scones (some savory: heart-shaped from a mix Becky gave Holt as a birthday prezzie; the others sweet with cardamom, from a recipe by Sue Phinney, called "Holt's Birthday Scones"), butter, jams, Holtbread, lox, cream cheese, and Barbara's herbed goat cheese spread. We needed some sustenance, as opening all the presents for 17 people takes about 3 hours.
For Christmas dinner, we had decided to buy a local product, a bone-in Schad's Ham - 18.5 lbs. of it. We had to slice it into pieces so it would fit in the same oven* with:
Roasted vegetables - Yukon Gold potatoes, carrots, turnips, shallots, and red onions, tossed with kosher salt and goose fat frozen from last year's Christmas dinner.
(Did we tell everyone "Goose grease? You're soaking in it!" We did not).
We also made a couple of side dishes the day before:
Pineapple salsa with a hint of jalapeno.
Sweet Potatoes with Ginger: a dozen bright orange sweet potatoes** nuked in the microwave until tender; peeled with asbestos fingers; put through a ricer; and mixed with a large nubbin of stem ginger, minced, and about 2 Tbsps. of stem ginger syrup. Refrigerate until it's time to serve, and nuke for 3-4 mins. until hot. It is far lighter and airier than the brown-sugar-and-marshmallow stuff that people are used to (and why do we go overboard in sweetening something that's already sweet?), and those who taste it generally like it a lot.
For dessert, Holt made pecan pies with the last of the pecans Helene sent us. He was a bit nervous, since he's never liked any of his pie crusts. But New Joy's cream cheese crust (fresh from breakfast) worked a treat, as did cane syrup, a N'arlins present from Susann and Bert.*When the kitchen designers ask if you want a second oven, say yes.
** "Yams? Useless little tuber." -Mad about You, sometime in the first season.
Gnocchi with Sausage and Spinach
Monday December 24
This was a Shaffer day to cook, and Becky started it out with a hearty sausage and cheese strata, perfect for the hungry hordes.
Dinner was also a winner, inspired by a recent recipe in Real Simple. Becky just multiplied it a bazillion times.
Set 1 pound package of gnocchi to boiling. In skillet, saute 1 small onion, ca. 1 lb Italian fennel sausage, removed from casing; crumble and brown. Add a chopped clove of garlic, ca. 5 oz baby spinach, salt, and pepper, and cook until spinach wilts, ca. 3 mins. Drain gnocchi, reserving 1/4 cup water, and toss in skillet, with 3/4 cup grated parmesan and water if necessary. Serve with more parmesan at table.
Even children will eat this, though they will put the pitiful shreds of spinach to one side on their plates so that no green vegetable matter will touch their delicate palates (where, as is well known, it will explode).
Chicken Pot Pie
Sunday December 23
One of the marvelous things about Parker family gatherings is that each family takes full responsibility for cooking, serving, and cleaning up all meals for one day each; and that all of them are wonderful cooks. So for three out of the four days, we woke up to find orange juice on the table, hot coffee brewing, and a wonderful breakfast laid out; plus no necessity to even worry about meals later that day. And did I mention that everybody brought so many desserts, sweets, and other treats that there was not a speck of room available on our sideboard, and many had to be multi-stacked?
The first day was the Kelleys', so of course it began with David's unbeatable hot biscuits. He inherited his biscuit-making talents from his father Ralph, who apparently turns them out without even thinking about it. And bacon. Lots of bacon.
But our job is to report on dinner, and it was unbeatable too.
JoDee's pot pie (recipe is in mail.)
A mesclun salad, for those who felt they needed something green.
And a spectacular fresh orange Italian cream cake from Southern Living 2002.
Posole for other people, and Dinner at the Phoenix
Saturday December 22Holt made posole in advance, for the arriving multitudes. It's a good luck dish for a New Mexico New Year. We used over 6 lbs. of pork tenderloin, a bagful of fresh poblanos (roasted) as well as a giant can of green chiles, 6 or 7 cans of yellow and white hominy, and a basketful of fresh cilantro picked from the garden.
But we were taking our nieces Joanna and Laura out to the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival, to see a non-seasonal (but none the worse for that) production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
We chose to have our pre-theater dinner at the Phoenix restaurant, which is not only beautiful and friendly, but also just a block from the theater.
Our appetizers were Crabcakes with Thai Chili Mayonnaise (okay—too much cake not enough crab), and
Grilled Balsamic Prawns on a Crispy Risotto Cake on a plate decorated with Red Pepper Puree - a lovely presentation and tasty risotto cake, but underdone prawns.
For dinner, we had Tournedos of Beef Tenderloin with Chipotle Cream, Gorgonzola, and Shiitake Mushrooms, on a bed of Mashed Potatoes - very beefy and good.
Also delicious was the Rack of New Zealand Lamb, Rosemary & Grain Mustard.
And of course, the girls had to have Phoenix's classic dessert: Graeter's double chocolate chip ice cream in a dark chocolate bag. We've been dreaming about giving them this ever since we first had it. And we can't deny that we had a spoonful or two as well.
Our magical evening ended with a walk down to Fountain Square to see the tree and the ice-skaters. Thanks, Mr. Shakespeare!
Friday, December 21, 2007
Tuna Steaks en Papillote
Tuna Steaks en Papillote
Friday December 21
This is what we MEAN to do when we get home.
We last cooked this all the way back in the summer. This time we're going to use the last of Barbara's garden fennel (it's 50 degrees today, and they're still out there), so no celery or red bell pepper needed. Also, we have a little curried mayonnaise left over from last Friday's artichokes, so we may use that as an additional dip for the fish.
After that, we go into high-energy Christmas Mode, as the entire extended Parker clan (17 people, including us) will be coming to stay with us for five days. So if you don't hear from us for a while, don't be surprised - we may be a mite tired.
Friday December 21
This is what we MEAN to do when we get home.
We last cooked this all the way back in the summer. This time we're going to use the last of Barbara's garden fennel (it's 50 degrees today, and they're still out there), so no celery or red bell pepper needed. Also, we have a little curried mayonnaise left over from last Friday's artichokes, so we may use that as an additional dip for the fish.
After that, we go into high-energy Christmas Mode, as the entire extended Parker clan (17 people, including us) will be coming to stay with us for five days. So if you don't hear from us for a while, don't be surprised - we may be a mite tired.
Ravioli in Sage Butter
Thursday December 20
We boiled up 25 (i.e., half) of the frozen spinach-and-ricotta ravioli that we took home from April's "Holy Ravioli" festival at Sacred Heart Church.
http://whatholtandbarbarahadfordinner.blogspot.com/2007/04/holy-ravioli.html
About 35 minutes in the boiling water, and they're ready.
The sauce, burro e salvia, is the simplest that Italy (with the help of our garden) affords. I've searched the blog, and I can hardly believe that we haven't made it for this past year and a half. But if that's so, here are the incredibly simple directions.
Melt some butter in a saucepan. Chop up some fresh sage leaves. Put the sage in the butter. Keep the heat high. Watch it carefully and take it off the heat when the butter begins to brown, so the sage can crisp up a tiny bit. Toss the pasta with the sauce, either in the pan or on heated plates. Salt and white pepper as you like. And as Gordon Ramsay says, "done!" (I prefer that to Emeril's "bam!")
Though you can try any kind of pasta with this, its clear flavor is particularly good with richly-filled shapes like tortellini or ravioli. The Italians even use it for ravioli (g)nudi, "naked ravioli" i.e. ravioli fillings cooked like meatballs, without the pasta around them.
We boiled up 25 (i.e., half) of the frozen spinach-and-ricotta ravioli that we took home from April's "Holy Ravioli" festival at Sacred Heart Church.
http://whatholtandbarbarahadfordinner.blogspot.com/2007/04/holy-ravioli.html
About 35 minutes in the boiling water, and they're ready.
The sauce, burro e salvia, is the simplest that Italy (with the help of our garden) affords. I've searched the blog, and I can hardly believe that we haven't made it for this past year and a half. But if that's so, here are the incredibly simple directions.
Melt some butter in a saucepan. Chop up some fresh sage leaves. Put the sage in the butter. Keep the heat high. Watch it carefully and take it off the heat when the butter begins to brown, so the sage can crisp up a tiny bit. Toss the pasta with the sauce, either in the pan or on heated plates. Salt and white pepper as you like. And as Gordon Ramsay says, "done!" (I prefer that to Emeril's "bam!")
Though you can try any kind of pasta with this, its clear flavor is particularly good with richly-filled shapes like tortellini or ravioli. The Italians even use it for ravioli (g)nudi, "naked ravioli" i.e. ravioli fillings cooked like meatballs, without the pasta around them.
Steak with Creamed Leeks and Red Cabbage Slaw
Wednesday December 19
There was a tiny portion of creamed leeks left over - would you believe it? - from last Monday, and though it was too small an amount to be considered a vegetable, when reheated with a mite more cream, it made a fine sauce for a good T-bone, which had been brushed with a little soy sauce and grilled.
The red cabbage slaw was left over from two days ago. If there are only two of you eating it, even a single small cabbage will be with you for a long, long time.
There was a tiny portion of creamed leeks left over - would you believe it? - from last Monday, and though it was too small an amount to be considered a vegetable, when reheated with a mite more cream, it made a fine sauce for a good T-bone, which had been brushed with a little soy sauce and grilled.
The red cabbage slaw was left over from two days ago. If there are only two of you eating it, even a single small cabbage will be with you for a long, long time.
Fettucine with Pork and Porcini Ragu
Tuesday December 18
The great thing about the Pork and Porcini stew we had on Saturday is the fact that you can make this out of the leftovers. Our vague model is Pappardelle sulla lepre, though none of the ingredients are the same.
Simply chop the stew leftovers into smaller pieces or shreds, and while you're boiling your pasta (the broadest long noodle you have), reheat the chopped stew with just enough liquid to get it loose and saucelike. Previously, we've used veal stock, but this time we used a dribble of red wine and a little squeeze from a tube of tomato concentrate, which worked great. It coated the pasta beautifully, which is just what you want.
The great thing about the Pork and Porcini stew we had on Saturday is the fact that you can make this out of the leftovers. Our vague model is Pappardelle sulla lepre, though none of the ingredients are the same.
Simply chop the stew leftovers into smaller pieces or shreds, and while you're boiling your pasta (the broadest long noodle you have), reheat the chopped stew with just enough liquid to get it loose and saucelike. Previously, we've used veal stock, but this time we used a dribble of red wine and a little squeeze from a tube of tomato concentrate, which worked great. It coated the pasta beautifully, which is just what you want.
Wasabi-Crusted Tilapia with Red Cabbage Slaw
Monday December 17
For the fish, we were inspired by an Epicurious recipe.
But changed it around a good bit. First, we used tilapia fillets instead of cod or halibut. We salted them with kosher salt, then smeared them with about a quarter cup of mayonnaise seasoned with wasabi as directed, but since we already had dried wasabi powder, we just moistened it up with a little water used it instead of the tube stuff in the recipe. Those who commented on the recipe said that it needed more spice, so we used about the same amount of wasabi the recipe calls for, 1 and 1/2 tsps., though we halved the recipe otherwise. Oh, and we also used white bread crumbs (from duck bread) to bread the smeared fillets rather than panko. We put the fillets in a shallow baking pan in the upper part of a 400-degree oven, baked for about 12 minutes, and then turned on the broiler to brown the top for a couple of minutes more. Results were very good, and we'll do this again. Next time, though, we're thinking of just blending the wasabi powder directly into the mayonnaise - or even substituting our usual crudité dip, mayonnaise with a little curry powder and a touch of soy sauce.
The red cabbage slaw in the original recipe sounded so raw that only a rabbit could like it. Instead, we whomped up a more traditional red cabbage slaw ahead of time, giving it a few days to relax and become more edible. Here it is:
Red (and Green) Cabbage Slaw
4 cups thin-shredded red cabbage (or some can be green, for more varied color - we actually picked one of our last cabbage sprouts from the garden for this)
2 Tbsp. minced red onion
2 Tbsp. chopped capers
2 Tbsp. chopped dill pickle (plus a dribble of the juice)
5 Tbsp. sherry vinegar
ca. 1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 tsp. sugar
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all the liquids and seasonings in a large bowl, then toss the cabbage in it and mix well. Refrigerate for at least a couple of hours; taste, correct seasoning, and serve. If you let this sit for long enough, the sauce will become pink, which is sort of festive as well as being tasty.
For the fish, we were inspired by an Epicurious recipe.
But changed it around a good bit. First, we used tilapia fillets instead of cod or halibut. We salted them with kosher salt, then smeared them with about a quarter cup of mayonnaise seasoned with wasabi as directed, but since we already had dried wasabi powder, we just moistened it up with a little water used it instead of the tube stuff in the recipe. Those who commented on the recipe said that it needed more spice, so we used about the same amount of wasabi the recipe calls for, 1 and 1/2 tsps., though we halved the recipe otherwise. Oh, and we also used white bread crumbs (from duck bread) to bread the smeared fillets rather than panko. We put the fillets in a shallow baking pan in the upper part of a 400-degree oven, baked for about 12 minutes, and then turned on the broiler to brown the top for a couple of minutes more. Results were very good, and we'll do this again. Next time, though, we're thinking of just blending the wasabi powder directly into the mayonnaise - or even substituting our usual crudité dip, mayonnaise with a little curry powder and a touch of soy sauce.
The red cabbage slaw in the original recipe sounded so raw that only a rabbit could like it. Instead, we whomped up a more traditional red cabbage slaw ahead of time, giving it a few days to relax and become more edible. Here it is:
Red (and Green) Cabbage Slaw
4 cups thin-shredded red cabbage (or some can be green, for more varied color - we actually picked one of our last cabbage sprouts from the garden for this)
2 Tbsp. minced red onion
2 Tbsp. chopped capers
2 Tbsp. chopped dill pickle (plus a dribble of the juice)
5 Tbsp. sherry vinegar
ca. 1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 tsp. sugar
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all the liquids and seasonings in a large bowl, then toss the cabbage in it and mix well. Refrigerate for at least a couple of hours; taste, correct seasoning, and serve. If you let this sit for long enough, the sauce will become pink, which is sort of festive as well as being tasty.
Penne ala Saffi
Sunday December 16
This is the sixth time we've had this, since starting the blog, putting it neck-and-neck with the Salami and Zucchini recipe below. Though the blog's search engine is a mite undependable for these counts, both of them seem to be one behind Pasta al Salmone, at seven times (the last one in October).
This is the sixth time we've had this, since starting the blog, putting it neck-and-neck with the Salami and Zucchini recipe below. Though the blog's search engine is a mite undependable for these counts, both of them seem to be one behind Pasta al Salmone, at seven times (the last one in October).
Pork and Porcini Stew
Saturday December 15
We last made it almost a year ago, and every time we make the RECIPE, we give thanks to Don, Fee, and Marcella Hazan.
This time we got crimini mushrooms from Madison's. According to the Gourmet Sleuth, they're just portobellos that haven't reached full size yet. We see no particular advantage to them, except they were cheaper this time. And any mushroom that is soaked in dried porcini broth tastes like porcini (i.e., sublime) anyway, so why fuss about types?
We last made it almost a year ago, and every time we make the RECIPE, we give thanks to Don, Fee, and Marcella Hazan.
This time we got crimini mushrooms from Madison's. According to the Gourmet Sleuth, they're just portobellos that haven't reached full size yet. We see no particular advantage to them, except they were cheaper this time. And any mushroom that is soaked in dried porcini broth tastes like porcini (i.e., sublime) anyway, so why fuss about types?
Penne with Salami and Zucchini
Friday December 14
STILL a perennial fave, since this is the sixth time we've had it since we started blogging. And even easier now that Trader Joe's sells Rosette de Lyon salami in handy chubs.
Recipe here: Penne with Salami and Zucchini.
Incidentally, Holt also uses this salami to make a sandwich that Barbara finds astounding: salami and brie on pane pugliese. She goes more with the Jewish tradition of salami (untouched by cheese!) on rye with mustard and pickles: the sort of thing Katz's Deli on the Lower East Side was considering when they hung up the sign "Send a Salami to your Boy in the Army." But of course, Rosette de Lyon, made with PORK, is anything but Hebrew National, so Holt's version is doubtless more authentic.
STILL a perennial fave, since this is the sixth time we've had it since we started blogging. And even easier now that Trader Joe's sells Rosette de Lyon salami in handy chubs.
Recipe here: Penne with Salami and Zucchini.
Incidentally, Holt also uses this salami to make a sandwich that Barbara finds astounding: salami and brie on pane pugliese. She goes more with the Jewish tradition of salami (untouched by cheese!) on rye with mustard and pickles: the sort of thing Katz's Deli on the Lower East Side was considering when they hung up the sign "Send a Salami to your Boy in the Army." But of course, Rosette de Lyon, made with PORK, is anything but Hebrew National, so Holt's version is doubtless more authentic.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Fresh Artichokes with Two Sauces
Thursday December 13
Between global warming and the global village, in mid-December we had about the same meal we had had back in August, except that this time, we had two giant fresh artichokes apiece, so didn't need any extra snacks.
The artichokes undoubtedly came from Peru or somewhere, but we patronize the Findlay Market produce retailers as well as the farmers - we want both groups to prosper and stay in business. As for the fresh herbs for the salsa verde, we were actually able to harvest a few last leaves of sorrel and (regular, not garlic) chives, as well as some hardier parsley. The capers and lemon juice were as usual, as was the other sauce: curried mayonnaise with a drop of soy sauce is not swayed by the seasons.
Between global warming and the global village, in mid-December we had about the same meal we had had back in August, except that this time, we had two giant fresh artichokes apiece, so didn't need any extra snacks.
The artichokes undoubtedly came from Peru or somewhere, but we patronize the Findlay Market produce retailers as well as the farmers - we want both groups to prosper and stay in business. As for the fresh herbs for the salsa verde, we were actually able to harvest a few last leaves of sorrel and (regular, not garlic) chives, as well as some hardier parsley. The capers and lemon juice were as usual, as was the other sauce: curried mayonnaise with a drop of soy sauce is not swayed by the seasons.
Kielbasa with Red Cabbage
Wednesday December 12
A favorite winter dish, despite the fact that it hasn't been very wintry of late. Though we last had it on January 17 of this year, we never gave the recipe - just noted that you cooked a bunch of red things and they turned purple. Well, this time, we're noting down how to do this magical transformation.
The original recipe comes from the Larousse Book of Country Cooking, where it is euphoniously entitled "kiełbasa w czerwonej kapuście." We've only messed with it a bit.
Cut up a couple of onions into long slices, and a pound or more of smoked kielbasa into slanting bite-sized slices. And while you're at the cutting board, shred up a cored half head of red cabbage, and core and slice a couple of firm apples.
Now you're set to cook. In a large skillet, sauté the onions in oil for a couple of minutes, then throw in the kielbasa for a few minutes more. Finally, add the cabbage, stirring it around and mushing it down so you can get it all in. Now, add the liquids - a half cup of dry red wine, and a quarter cup of red wine vinegar - plus a bay leaf, a dusting of caraway seeds (to your taste), and salt and pepper. Once the cabbage has b'iled down a bit, add the apples and cover them with the cabbage so they get all purple, too. Cover this and let it simmer about a half hour, until everything is tender and edible. Adjust the seasoning, and serve.
The kielbasa came from Kroger's Fine Meats at Findlay market, far superior to the usual supermarket kielbasa (now with more pig-tongues and nitrites!) on sale. And we bought Enterprise apples from a local grower, Dennis of Backyard Orchard; he said they were nice and tart, and would hold together rather than breaking down in the cooking process. Good advice, because the apples are crucial in giving this dish the proper northern European sweet-sour flavor.
A favorite winter dish, despite the fact that it hasn't been very wintry of late. Though we last had it on January 17 of this year, we never gave the recipe - just noted that you cooked a bunch of red things and they turned purple. Well, this time, we're noting down how to do this magical transformation.
The original recipe comes from the Larousse Book of Country Cooking, where it is euphoniously entitled "kiełbasa w czerwonej kapuście." We've only messed with it a bit.
Cut up a couple of onions into long slices, and a pound or more of smoked kielbasa into slanting bite-sized slices. And while you're at the cutting board, shred up a cored half head of red cabbage, and core and slice a couple of firm apples.
Now you're set to cook. In a large skillet, sauté the onions in oil for a couple of minutes, then throw in the kielbasa for a few minutes more. Finally, add the cabbage, stirring it around and mushing it down so you can get it all in. Now, add the liquids - a half cup of dry red wine, and a quarter cup of red wine vinegar - plus a bay leaf, a dusting of caraway seeds (to your taste), and salt and pepper. Once the cabbage has b'iled down a bit, add the apples and cover them with the cabbage so they get all purple, too. Cover this and let it simmer about a half hour, until everything is tender and edible. Adjust the seasoning, and serve.
The kielbasa came from Kroger's Fine Meats at Findlay market, far superior to the usual supermarket kielbasa (now with more pig-tongues and nitrites!) on sale. And we bought Enterprise apples from a local grower, Dennis of Backyard Orchard; he said they were nice and tart, and would hold together rather than breaking down in the cooking process. Good advice, because the apples are crucial in giving this dish the proper northern European sweet-sour flavor.
Latkes (finally)
Tuesday December 11
We didn't get around to having latkes until the last night of Chanukah, when Julie came over to celebrate with us. She brought a bottle of White Knight Viognier, very smoky and interesting, which we drank around the kitchen peninsula while Holt fried the latkes.
He made them according to the classic Claudia Roden recipe, as we've done before, but once again, those damn Wisconsin russet potatoes we bought at IGA were undependable. This time they gave up so much water that even after pressing them in the ricer, Holt had to hand-squeeze the patties dry again before frying them. Thanks to his care, and to the goose schmaltz they so unauthentically fried in, they came out crisp and brown outside, tender inside. We topped them with the usual drained yogurt, but also with black caviar (okay, lumpfish) as a special touch.
The second course was, believe it or not, a salad from the garden: the tiny mesclun lettuces and arugula are still hanging on despite a couple of frosty nights, and they REALLY enjoyed today, which was about 60 degrees. Barbara picked the leaves and put them under water just before dinner. Then she went through her collection of bag-ripened garden tomatoes, diced up the best parts of a couple of good ones, and doused them (plus some non-home-grown diced zucchini and red onions) with some of her own basil oil. Once the latka course was done, she spun-dried the lettuce, tossed it with the marinated vegetables, and dosed the salad with a bit of balsamic vinegar. So hey, even if the latkes didn't fry in oil, at least the salad had olive oil in it. Though I doubt the Maccabees flavored theirs with basil.
Dessert was chocolate Chanukah gelt (of course) and some lovely lemon biscotti brought by Julie, accompanied by wine and/or port. So a very happy Chanukah was had by all.
We didn't get around to having latkes until the last night of Chanukah, when Julie came over to celebrate with us. She brought a bottle of White Knight Viognier, very smoky and interesting, which we drank around the kitchen peninsula while Holt fried the latkes.
He made them according to the classic Claudia Roden recipe, as we've done before, but once again, those damn Wisconsin russet potatoes we bought at IGA were undependable. This time they gave up so much water that even after pressing them in the ricer, Holt had to hand-squeeze the patties dry again before frying them. Thanks to his care, and to the goose schmaltz they so unauthentically fried in, they came out crisp and brown outside, tender inside. We topped them with the usual drained yogurt, but also with black caviar (okay, lumpfish) as a special touch.
The second course was, believe it or not, a salad from the garden: the tiny mesclun lettuces and arugula are still hanging on despite a couple of frosty nights, and they REALLY enjoyed today, which was about 60 degrees. Barbara picked the leaves and put them under water just before dinner. Then she went through her collection of bag-ripened garden tomatoes, diced up the best parts of a couple of good ones, and doused them (plus some non-home-grown diced zucchini and red onions) with some of her own basil oil. Once the latka course was done, she spun-dried the lettuce, tossed it with the marinated vegetables, and dosed the salad with a bit of balsamic vinegar. So hey, even if the latkes didn't fry in oil, at least the salad had olive oil in it. Though I doubt the Maccabees flavored theirs with basil.
Dessert was chocolate Chanukah gelt (of course) and some lovely lemon biscotti brought by Julie, accompanied by wine and/or port. So a very happy Chanukah was had by all.
Chicken Breasts with Creamed Leeks
Monday December 10
Haven't had this for a year or so - can't imagine why. But we got some splendid long white leeks from Findlay Market, and they were perfect for this.
The procedure was basically the same as before using chicken stock for the braise, and patting the chicken breasts with fresh thyme as well as tarragon. The leeks were meltingly tender, and go very well with the mild chicken.
Haven't had this for a year or so - can't imagine why. But we got some splendid long white leeks from Findlay Market, and they were perfect for this.
The procedure was basically the same as before using chicken stock for the braise, and patting the chicken breasts with fresh thyme as well as tarragon. The leeks were meltingly tender, and go very well with the mild chicken.
Duck Soup
Sunday December 9
Not the Marx Bros., but the third meal of the duck, i.e. the broth we made when we boiled the carcass, and the meat picked off it. Once the broth boiled, we threw in some Trader Joe's tricolor tortellini (stuffed with cheese) and mezzalune (stuffed with squash); when the pasta was tender, we put in the duck meat, heated and served. Now that's a soothing soup.
Not the Marx Bros., but the third meal of the duck, i.e. the broth we made when we boiled the carcass, and the meat picked off it. Once the broth boiled, we threw in some Trader Joe's tricolor tortellini (stuffed with cheese) and mezzalune (stuffed with squash); when the pasta was tender, we put in the duck meat, heated and served. Now that's a soothing soup.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Cauliflower Curry
Saturday December 8
Holt has always made a damn good cauliflower curry, using coconut and orange juice. Problem is, when we had the cauliflower and were ready to go, he couldn't remember where he got the recipe, or what else was in it. So he consulted a bunch of cookbooks (Moosewood, New Joy, Veggie Epi, Madhur Jaffrey) and came up with something totally off the cuff, and what's more, still delicious. Here's how it went.
We chopped up three small onions and separated the cauliflower into small florets. We then ground about 4 TBSP of cumin seed with about 3 TBSP of coriander seeds. Added 1/2 tsp. cayenne and all the turmeric* we had left in the house, maybe 2 tsp., all attractively spread out on a plate, so we could admire their colors.
A glaze of oil went into the big skillet, and he browned the onion in these spices, then added the cauliflower. After everything was well-mixed, he spooned in the top half of a can of coconut milk and sautéed everything in that (à la Thai cooking) and then added the rest of the coconut milk. He covered and simmered the dish until the cauliflower was tender. With a slotted spoon, he removed the cauliflower, piled it on plates, and boiled down the sauce for a few minutes, until it was thick. It was then poured back over the cauliflower.
That's all she wrote.
*Note to self: Buy more turmeric.
Stuffed Duck Legs and Turnips
Friday December 7
Holt's new knife was a big help in boning the thighbones out of some duck legs a couple of days ago, and that made stuffed duck legs an obvious option. After consulting many recipes, though, he decided to make up one of his own. It's a fall-type meal, using flavors that go well with duck: bacon, apple, and turnip.
For the stuffing, chop up a small onion and three or four rashers of bacon. Fry them up in the ovenproof skillet you're going to use for the duck. When the onion is translucent and the bacon almost crisp, add a small chopped apple. Let it sizzle for a few minutes, deglaze with a little port, and then remove the stuffing and let it cool. When you can handle it, stuff it gently into the duck legs, where the thighbones had been, and secure with a toothpick.
In the same skillet, brown the duck legs with the open stuffing side on top. Add a little duck stock and nestle in some sliced turnips. Cover, and let cook for 30 minutes or so, till the duck is at 160º degrees and the turnips are tender. Serve just as it is.
Fettucine Sausage Alfredo
Thursday December 6
This is what you do when you're tired (in this case, after trying to ride herd on one of your students' PhD defense), hungry, and there's a half-pound of bulk sausage (left over from the stuffed squash you made two days ago) in the fridge. Holt first had this back in grad. stud. days, as prepared by Anita B.*, and, yes, we know that you can now get "sausage alfredo" at Olive Garden** but that don't mean it isn't good, if done nicely.
We last had this over a year ago, in about the same situation. It's still damn good.
* Ex-Sam Nunn Professor of Law at Emory, ex-Wallace Stevens Professor of Law (a much cooler title) at New York Law School , and now the Anita (how appropriate) and Stuart Subotnick Professor of Law at Brooklyn Law School. No points for guessing.
** "When you're here, you're a grotesque ethnic stereotype."
This is what you do when you're tired (in this case, after trying to ride herd on one of your students' PhD defense), hungry, and there's a half-pound of bulk sausage (left over from the stuffed squash you made two days ago) in the fridge. Holt first had this back in grad. stud. days, as prepared by Anita B.*, and, yes, we know that you can now get "sausage alfredo" at Olive Garden** but that don't mean it isn't good, if done nicely.
We last had this over a year ago, in about the same situation. It's still damn good.
* Ex-Sam Nunn Professor of Law at Emory, ex-Wallace Stevens Professor of Law (a much cooler title) at New York Law School , and now the Anita (how appropriate) and Stuart Subotnick Professor of Law at Brooklyn Law School. No points for guessing.
** "When you're here, you're a grotesque ethnic stereotype."
Duck Breasts with Fig and Ginger Sauce
Wednesday December 5We bought a whole duck at Luken's on Saturday. Holt's take on duck is that, like most fowls, it has parts (the breast) that get cooked much more quickly than other parts (the legs). So instead of roasting it whole, he takes the breast off for the first meal, bones out the legs for a second one, and puts the rest of the carcass in the soup pot for a third. Lucky that Barbara got him a neat new 3.5 inch paring knife for Chanukah (to avoid the evil omen of giving a knife, he paid her in Chanukah gelt). He zipped through the boning with ease and grace - if you can be graceful when adorned with duck fat.
He wanted to use his birthday gift from Barbara too, a cute little Emirilware saucier (saucier than what, you may ask? Saucier than Emiril, I hope). In browsing through Epicurious, he had found a recipe for duck breasts with wild mushrooms in a fig and ginger sauce, but as it happened, his sister Becky had just given him a jar of fig and ginger preserves for his birthday. So all the birthday gifts came together, and made the recipe into even more of a snap.The duck breasts were dusted with salt and fried (skin side first, then not-skin side) in butter, assisted by their own renderings. When they were just medium rare, they were set aside to rest.
In the saucier, a few Tablespoons of fig and ginger preserve were melted down in a bit of the duck fat and brown bits , then loosened up with a little Port (we're using Jonesy currently - we're not Port snobs, and the Australian stuff often tastes great), and reduced till nice and thick.
For the requisite vedge, in another pan, the last of Barbara's garden fennel was sautéed in our usual fashion.
We plated out the fennel, sliced the duck breasts, and adorned with the sweet fruity sauce. Results looked stunning and tasted even better.
Stuffed Butternut Squash
Tuesday December 4
The recipe is one of our favorite fall dishes, adapted from the (well-used and well-stained) 1961 edition of The New York Times Cook Book by Craig Claiborne, as originally cooked by Brian Carter. In fact, it's now so adapted that it bears no relation to the originals. So here is what we do now.
Halve a hard winter squash; this one was a butternut, but acorn works as well (if not better, since there's a bigger hole for the stuff). Scoop out and throw away the seeds, put both halves cut-side-up in a baking dish, and fill their hollows with a pat of butter and a few Tablespoons of bourbon (taste first to make sure bourbon is still fresh!) apiece. Pierce the inner squash flesh with a fork to allow the butter & bourbon to penetrate. Bake at the People's Temperature for 45 minutes or so, or until it's tender enough to pierce easily with a fork.
In the meantime, brown and crumble a half pound of bulk sausage in a skillet, along with a small chopped onion. If it's not already sage sausage, season as you like with sage, chopped fresh or dried, plus salt and pepper; if the sausage is mild, you can also add a kick with a pinch of cayenne or a sprinkle of crushed Italian red pepper. Throw in about a half cup of diced-up stale bread or croutons, and moisten with a little chicken broth and/or white wine, until it's the consistency of stuffing that you'd use for a turkey.
When the squash is done, spoon most of the bourbon from each half into the stuffing mixture, which you then stuff into (and on top of, if there's enough) each squash half. Top with a sort of streusel made by mixing about 2 Tablespoons of light brown sugar with a half teaspoon of dry mustard and a pinch of salt. Return to the oven and continue baking until the streusel is browned (about 10-15 minutes). Serve each half on a plate to each eager eater, and that's all you need.
There's nothing like trafe for the first night of Chanukah. Dessert was, appropriately, Graeter's chocolate chanukah gelt and more bourbon.
The recipe is one of our favorite fall dishes, adapted from the (well-used and well-stained) 1961 edition of The New York Times Cook Book by Craig Claiborne, as originally cooked by Brian Carter. In fact, it's now so adapted that it bears no relation to the originals. So here is what we do now.
Halve a hard winter squash; this one was a butternut, but acorn works as well (if not better, since there's a bigger hole for the stuff). Scoop out and throw away the seeds, put both halves cut-side-up in a baking dish, and fill their hollows with a pat of butter and a few Tablespoons of bourbon (taste first to make sure bourbon is still fresh!) apiece. Pierce the inner squash flesh with a fork to allow the butter & bourbon to penetrate. Bake at the People's Temperature for 45 minutes or so, or until it's tender enough to pierce easily with a fork.
In the meantime, brown and crumble a half pound of bulk sausage in a skillet, along with a small chopped onion. If it's not already sage sausage, season as you like with sage, chopped fresh or dried, plus salt and pepper; if the sausage is mild, you can also add a kick with a pinch of cayenne or a sprinkle of crushed Italian red pepper. Throw in about a half cup of diced-up stale bread or croutons, and moisten with a little chicken broth and/or white wine, until it's the consistency of stuffing that you'd use for a turkey.
When the squash is done, spoon most of the bourbon from each half into the stuffing mixture, which you then stuff into (and on top of, if there's enough) each squash half. Top with a sort of streusel made by mixing about 2 Tablespoons of light brown sugar with a half teaspoon of dry mustard and a pinch of salt. Return to the oven and continue baking until the streusel is browned (about 10-15 minutes). Serve each half on a plate to each eager eater, and that's all you need.
There's nothing like trafe for the first night of Chanukah. Dessert was, appropriately, Graeter's chocolate chanukah gelt and more bourbon.
Fettuccine With Red Onion, Blue Cheese And Thyme
Monday December 3
This was yet another recipe we found while paging through the Herbfarm Cookbook. Barbara is a great fan of blue cheeses, we happened to have all the major ingredients called for (they're in the name!), and it was easy and quick to make.
The recipe is among those printed here.
Other than halving the amounts to serve just us two, we reproduced it pretty exactly.
The verdict: it was pretty good. The sweet snap of red onions went pretty well with the Gorgonzola we used, though the flavor of the fresh thyme was pretty much drowned out. Still, this recipe doesn't come anywhere near the pure satisfaction of the classic Italian Gorgonzola sauce. We've served it on gnocchi the last time we had it, but it's appropriate for just about any pasta. And making it is simplicity itself.
To be explicit: you melt a Tablespoon or two of butter in a wide pan. Sprinkle in three or four ounces (to your taste) of Gorgonzola - picante, not dolce - and mush it around a bit to start it melting. Add around a half cup of cream, and stir while it boils and thickens. Taste, add a grind of white pepper and some salt if it needs it, and perhaps take the edge off it with a quarter cup or so of grated romano cheese. When your pasta is done, you dump it in the pan and toss it with the cheese sauce. It couldn't be better.
This was yet another recipe we found while paging through the Herbfarm Cookbook. Barbara is a great fan of blue cheeses, we happened to have all the major ingredients called for (they're in the name!), and it was easy and quick to make.
The recipe is among those printed here.
Other than halving the amounts to serve just us two, we reproduced it pretty exactly.
The verdict: it was pretty good. The sweet snap of red onions went pretty well with the Gorgonzola we used, though the flavor of the fresh thyme was pretty much drowned out. Still, this recipe doesn't come anywhere near the pure satisfaction of the classic Italian Gorgonzola sauce. We've served it on gnocchi the last time we had it, but it's appropriate for just about any pasta. And making it is simplicity itself.
To be explicit: you melt a Tablespoon or two of butter in a wide pan. Sprinkle in three or four ounces (to your taste) of Gorgonzola - picante, not dolce - and mush it around a bit to start it melting. Add around a half cup of cream, and stir while it boils and thickens. Taste, add a grind of white pepper and some salt if it needs it, and perhaps take the edge off it with a quarter cup or so of grated romano cheese. When your pasta is done, you dump it in the pan and toss it with the cheese sauce. It couldn't be better.
Hog and Quiche
Sunday December 2
This was one of those (thankfully, rare) occasions when we had dinner apart. Holt had to go to the departmental "holiday party," and Barbara took the opportunity to eat one of the few things that Holt can't abide but she (sometimes) likes.
So Barbara had the hog: Braunschweiger. Yes, my sister Andi and I, though we were raised in a kosher home, both get the occasional yen for German wurst made with genuine pork liver. For some reason (growing up in Queens?), we like it in a sandwich slathered with mayonnaise. The Braunschweiger came from Krause's, but unfortunately was packed by their ditziest server: she tried to slice it like bologna, with the rubbery casing still left around each slice. It is more properly cut in a chunk, and spread on firm bread. In this case, I used one of Holt's herb-baked rolls, which was almost too fine a flavor. The sandwich was accompanied by fine deli salads (potato, macaroni, cole slaw) from Mike's Meats, also at Findlay Market. I ate my semi-disgusting meal in front of the television, off a tray: the ultimate solo-dining indulgence.
Holt had the catered quiche (which was o.k.) and Jean's bûche de Noël (which was superb).
This was one of those (thankfully, rare) occasions when we had dinner apart. Holt had to go to the departmental "holiday party," and Barbara took the opportunity to eat one of the few things that Holt can't abide but she (sometimes) likes.
So Barbara had the hog: Braunschweiger. Yes, my sister Andi and I, though we were raised in a kosher home, both get the occasional yen for German wurst made with genuine pork liver. For some reason (growing up in Queens?), we like it in a sandwich slathered with mayonnaise. The Braunschweiger came from Krause's, but unfortunately was packed by their ditziest server: she tried to slice it like bologna, with the rubbery casing still left around each slice. It is more properly cut in a chunk, and spread on firm bread. In this case, I used one of Holt's herb-baked rolls, which was almost too fine a flavor. The sandwich was accompanied by fine deli salads (potato, macaroni, cole slaw) from Mike's Meats, also at Findlay Market. I ate my semi-disgusting meal in front of the television, off a tray: the ultimate solo-dining indulgence.
Holt had the catered quiche (which was o.k.) and Jean's bûche de Noël (which was superb).
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Whole Roast Bluefish with Garden Fennel
Saturday December 1
It is a truly frabjous day when we can get fresh bluefish here in Cincinnati, either from Luken's or Jungle Jim's. We don't know how they manage to make a living off a fish that is so perishable, so East Coast, and so foreign to Midwest "can't-I-have-something-boneless-and-bland?" tastes. Especially at $2.99 a pound, which is cheap for fresh fish - though Holt remembers days of yore in New Haven, when a bluefish was what they threw in as lagniappe when you bought something better.
Once again, we used the classic method of oven-roasting.
In this case, we even had some freshly-made basil oil, the last fruits of this year's crop. When drizzled over the hot fish, it is sublime.
As an accompaniment, Barbara sacrificed two of her amazing garden creatures, the Florentine fennel plants that have been growing like multi-limbed mutants. It's a good thing that none of the neighbors understood her cries of "Eh! Finocchio!" as she cut them off their roots. Some of their ferny fronds went into the fish to be roasted, while the bulby parts were chopped, gently simmered in white wine and a mite of butter until tender, and topped with grated parmesan cheese and a grind or two of white pepper. The garden stuff turned out to be much more fresh-flavored than your usual supermarket or even organic-foods big-bulb fennel, so we consider this experiment to be worth the $2.50 it cost for the packet of seeds.
Tilapia with Dill Sauce and Green Risotto Cakes
Friday November 30
Holt had made the full recipe of Green Risotto on Wednesday, which meant that about a third of it was left over (we find that a cup of dry Arborio rice makes the perfect amount of risotto as a main dish for both of us; that recipe called for a cup and half). But we LOVE having leftover risotto, because that means we can make risotto cakes.
We also wanted to use some of the fresh garden dill before it all freezes. Dill and fish are natural buddies, but almost every recipe you see pairs a dilled sour cream sauce with cold poached salmon. Nothing wrong with that, but sort of boring, and too summery for this season.
Instead, we got out our old standby, Trader Joe's frozen tilapia (defrosted, of course). We coated the fillets with fine breadcrumbs (same sort we were using for the risotto cakes, made from finely-ground-up Holtbread) and shallow-fried them up crisp. Then we held them in a warm oven while we deglazed the pan with a bit of white wine, showered it with chopped fresh dill, added a some cream, reduced the sauce and added a final swirl of butter. A warm and herby alternative.
Holt had made the full recipe of Green Risotto on Wednesday, which meant that about a third of it was left over (we find that a cup of dry Arborio rice makes the perfect amount of risotto as a main dish for both of us; that recipe called for a cup and half). But we LOVE having leftover risotto, because that means we can make risotto cakes.
We also wanted to use some of the fresh garden dill before it all freezes. Dill and fish are natural buddies, but almost every recipe you see pairs a dilled sour cream sauce with cold poached salmon. Nothing wrong with that, but sort of boring, and too summery for this season.
Instead, we got out our old standby, Trader Joe's frozen tilapia (defrosted, of course). We coated the fillets with fine breadcrumbs (same sort we were using for the risotto cakes, made from finely-ground-up Holtbread) and shallow-fried them up crisp. Then we held them in a warm oven while we deglazed the pan with a bit of white wine, showered it with chopped fresh dill, added a some cream, reduced the sauce and added a final swirl of butter. A warm and herby alternative.
Pulled Pork and Mash
Thursday November 29
This was just the meat and sauce left over from Tuesday's Big Ol' Butt, ladled over a heap of mashed potatoes (again the russets, but they seem to make an acceptable mash, so long as they're whipped with enough butter and cream).
This is the ideal meal after a hard, cold day, when all you want to do is have something warm and satisfying about 20 minutes after you walk in the door. A glass of red wine doesn't hurt, either.
This was just the meat and sauce left over from Tuesday's Big Ol' Butt, ladled over a heap of mashed potatoes (again the russets, but they seem to make an acceptable mash, so long as they're whipped with enough butter and cream).
This is the ideal meal after a hard, cold day, when all you want to do is have something warm and satisfying about 20 minutes after you walk in the door. A glass of red wine doesn't hurt, either.
Green Risotto
Wednesday November 28
Despite its being the end of November, we still have an amazing range of greens in our garden, presumably due to global warming (thanks, George W. Bush!). So we are using them as much as we can, as long as we can. Again, the Herbfarm Cookbook provided an interesting and unusual recipe, a risotto using exactly what we had most of: sorrel, arugula, parsley and chives.
Here's the recipe. It also offers lots of ideas on other herbs to substitute.
Holt is the risotto master around here, and though he follows almost none of the rules (has used non-Arborio rice, added cold or even frozen broth, and finds risotto to take far longer than they ever say it does), his results are always great. In this case, he calculated that adding the herbs at the very last minute, as the recipe states, would give you more of a risotto salad than a true risotto, especially since we were also using some tiny but tougher turnip greens, and had no basil (though we could have thrown in a cube or two of our own pesto). We left it out instead, and did it Holt's way, adding the chopped turnip greens just after the sautéed green onion, and the other herbs later but still while adding the broth (in this case, our own duck broth, which is what we had in the freezer). The result was lovably tender, and probably no less tasty than the original.
Despite its being the end of November, we still have an amazing range of greens in our garden, presumably due to global warming (thanks, George W. Bush!). So we are using them as much as we can, as long as we can. Again, the Herbfarm Cookbook provided an interesting and unusual recipe, a risotto using exactly what we had most of: sorrel, arugula, parsley and chives.
Here's the recipe. It also offers lots of ideas on other herbs to substitute.
Holt is the risotto master around here, and though he follows almost none of the rules (has used non-Arborio rice, added cold or even frozen broth, and finds risotto to take far longer than they ever say it does), his results are always great. In this case, he calculated that adding the herbs at the very last minute, as the recipe states, would give you more of a risotto salad than a true risotto, especially since we were also using some tiny but tougher turnip greens, and had no basil (though we could have thrown in a cube or two of our own pesto). We left it out instead, and did it Holt's way, adding the chopped turnip greens just after the sautéed green onion, and the other herbs later but still while adding the broth (in this case, our own duck broth, which is what we had in the freezer). The result was lovably tender, and probably no less tasty than the original.
Pulled Pork Stew
Tuesday November 27
This is a polite way of referring to what we usually call Barbara's Big Ol' Butt. I don't know why, but I feel unusually polite today.
We prepared the Butt yesterday, searing it while the potatoes roasted, leaving it in a slow oven all evening long, and then leaving it overnight in its covered dutch oven in the fridge. So when we got home from work, all we had to do was get it out of the refrigerator, reheat it on the stovetop while the oven hotted up, add sliced carrots, turnips, and onions, and let it stew in the oven for almost an hour more. At the end, you could not only remove the single pig-bone with one tug, but you could pull the tender meat apart with two regular dinner forks. Which we then used to fork up the savory mess.
Hamburgers
Monday November 26
Over the weekend, Holt baked his week's worth of bread, a lovely batch of herb-crusted rolls, using a recipe from the Herbfarm Cookbook. They looked like perfect hamburger buns, so what else could we do but make hamburgers?
The best accompaniment to hamburgers (besides, of course, Heinz ketchup and Parker's prize-winning Perfect Pickles) is some sort of fried potatoes. Once again, we turned to the Herbfarm Cookbook and decided to make their herb-roasted potatoes. As we reported yesterday, the russets we have on hand are not very trustworthy, and once again they proved it: they boiled up way too soft, and only gradually gained a little resilience during the second stage of the recipe, when they were oven-roasted. We find the Herbfarm's double-cooked method to be a bit odd, but we won't be able to say for sure how it works until we try it with a more dependable potato.
Roast Beef Hash
Sunday November 25
Surprisingly enough, though many good sandwiches had come off it, there was still a knuckle of beef left over from last Saturday's roast. So we made a hash of it - no, this time, we REALLY did.
Though we followed our traditional theory of hash, this time the potatoes WOULD NOT get tender, despite being sautéed and steamed even more than usual. They were russets we got on sale at the IGA, and as soon as we've gotten rid of them, we will go back to using either Yukon golds or Kennebecs, both excellent potatoes for boiling/steaming.
So despite our other, better choices (fresh parsley and thyme in the mix, veal stock and HP sauce as the liquid), the hash was edible, but not on the level of hash-heaven we usually aspire to.
Surprisingly enough, though many good sandwiches had come off it, there was still a knuckle of beef left over from last Saturday's roast. So we made a hash of it - no, this time, we REALLY did.
Though we followed our traditional theory of hash, this time the potatoes WOULD NOT get tender, despite being sautéed and steamed even more than usual. They were russets we got on sale at the IGA, and as soon as we've gotten rid of them, we will go back to using either Yukon golds or Kennebecs, both excellent potatoes for boiling/steaming.
So despite our other, better choices (fresh parsley and thyme in the mix, veal stock and HP sauce as the liquid), the hash was edible, but not on the level of hash-heaven we usually aspire to.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Ratatouille
Saturday November 24
On Thanksgiving, after we had cooked all day and eaten all afternoon, everyone sat down to watch the animated film Ratatouille. We were charmed by the clever drawings and script, though while all the publicity for the movie concentrated on how the artists studied the movements and actions of real chefs, we were struck by how much they had studied the movements and actions of real rats.
The climax, of course, is the desperate moment when Remy the rat comes up with an elegant version of ratatouille to serve to the restaurant critic Anton Ego. The recipe was adapted from one by Thomas Keller, who also served as advisor to the film, and can be found on the World on a Plate blog.
We certainly didn't make such an elaborate, benriner-intensive recipe when we got home to our clean but cold house after a 350-mile drive from Illinois. Instead, we did the simplest version (no tomato-skinning, no pepper-roasting) of the peasant dish, cleaning out our vegetable bins for the various ingredients, and gradually shedding our coats in the grateful warmth of steam from the stew, while the furnace slowly brought the house's temperature up to the low 60s.
So heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a big non-reactive pot (avoid aluminum, unless you want your eggplant to resemble your rapidly decreasing gray-matter) and sauté a two large chopped onions and two minced cloves of garlic until transparent. Cube up two large eggplants (skinned, if necessary), add them to the pot with a dollop more oil, and keep cooking, adding more oil if they begin to stick or burn. When the eggplant cubes are dark and tender, throw in about a cup of chopped green pepper; we used our garden poblanos of course, but bell peppers of any color are fine. Cook a bit more, then add two cups of finely-chopped or puréed fresh tomatoes - again, these were from our garden, but good canned tomatoes are fine too. At the same time, sprinkle in about 2 Tbsps. of chopped fresh oregano, the same amount of fresh thyme leaves, and if you're not using poblanos, a dash of red pepper flakes. Let it all stew for 30 minutes more, until the flavors are melded and all the vedge is tender. Taste, and add salt as needed; if it needs a bigger shot of tomato flavor, squeeze in some tomato paste from a tube. Serve in big bowls with grated parmesan or romano cheese on top.
If you have leftovers (and we didn't), just wait - this tastes even better the second day.
On Thanksgiving, after we had cooked all day and eaten all afternoon, everyone sat down to watch the animated film Ratatouille. We were charmed by the clever drawings and script, though while all the publicity for the movie concentrated on how the artists studied the movements and actions of real chefs, we were struck by how much they had studied the movements and actions of real rats.
The climax, of course, is the desperate moment when Remy the rat comes up with an elegant version of ratatouille to serve to the restaurant critic Anton Ego. The recipe was adapted from one by Thomas Keller, who also served as advisor to the film, and can be found on the World on a Plate blog.
We certainly didn't make such an elaborate, benriner-intensive recipe when we got home to our clean but cold house after a 350-mile drive from Illinois. Instead, we did the simplest version (no tomato-skinning, no pepper-roasting) of the peasant dish, cleaning out our vegetable bins for the various ingredients, and gradually shedding our coats in the grateful warmth of steam from the stew, while the furnace slowly brought the house's temperature up to the low 60s.
So heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a big non-reactive pot (avoid aluminum, unless you want your eggplant to resemble your rapidly decreasing gray-matter) and sauté a two large chopped onions and two minced cloves of garlic until transparent. Cube up two large eggplants (skinned, if necessary), add them to the pot with a dollop more oil, and keep cooking, adding more oil if they begin to stick or burn. When the eggplant cubes are dark and tender, throw in about a cup of chopped green pepper; we used our garden poblanos of course, but bell peppers of any color are fine. Cook a bit more, then add two cups of finely-chopped or puréed fresh tomatoes - again, these were from our garden, but good canned tomatoes are fine too. At the same time, sprinkle in about 2 Tbsps. of chopped fresh oregano, the same amount of fresh thyme leaves, and if you're not using poblanos, a dash of red pepper flakes. Let it all stew for 30 minutes more, until the flavors are melded and all the vedge is tender. Taste, and add salt as needed; if it needs a bigger shot of tomato flavor, squeeze in some tomato paste from a tube. Serve in big bowls with grated parmesan or romano cheese on top.
If you have leftovers (and we didn't), just wait - this tastes even better the second day.
Day-After-Thanksgiving-Leftovers
Friday November 23
After slaving over various hot appliances all day yesterday, nobody wanted to cook at all, especially when there were so many tasty leftovers in the house. So all of them got re-hotted, the extra turkey breast was sliced, and Martha made some more cranberry relish (throwing in a few of Helene's pecans this time).
For dessert, JoDee sent a cheesecake, and along with it we managed to polish off the last of Jacob's pumpkin pie and Joanna's birthday carrot cake. It's a good thing we went for a long walk today, or we'd all look like Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons.
After slaving over various hot appliances all day yesterday, nobody wanted to cook at all, especially when there were so many tasty leftovers in the house. So all of them got re-hotted, the extra turkey breast was sliced, and Martha made some more cranberry relish (throwing in a few of Helene's pecans this time).
For dessert, JoDee sent a cheesecake, and along with it we managed to polish off the last of Jacob's pumpkin pie and Joanna's birthday carrot cake. It's a good thing we went for a long walk today, or we'd all look like Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons.
A Traditional Thanksgiving Feast
Thursday November 22
It was not just Thanksgiving, but our niece Joanna's eighteenth birthday as well. So at an interval in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (at a time when Barbara could be forcibly wedged out from in front of the TV), we celebrated with a hearty sausage strata and a carrot cake (made by Becky) cleverly decorated with carrots and "18"s in a checkerboard across the traditional creamy icing.
The feast was scheduled for 2 PM, so preparations began soon after the birthday breakfast got cleared away. Everybody pitched in, and to keep their strength up, Joanna made cream cheese-stuffed mushrooms, while we provided some of Helene's salted giant pecans and Barbara's smoked bluefish pâté. The latter was made the night before we left, according to this recipe, but this time it benefited from a squeeze of lemon juice in the process.
We were to be fourteen at dinner: Becky and her husband Steve; their children Melanie, Joanna, Madeline, Jacob, and Caroline; his parents Chuck and Martha; her and Holt's father Harold; friends Kelly and Genevieve; and of course Holt and Barbara. The meal combined a multitude of family traditions in a most satisfactory way, and no vital element was missed.
The main feature, of course, was the enormous turkey. This (plus an extra turkey breast) was barded with bacon by Martha, and roasted unstuffed.
Dressing in the southwestern tradition was made of crumbled cornbread and sausage, masterminded (along with everything else) by Becky.
The requisite sweet-potato casserole was dotted with brown sugar and toasted in the oven; Melanie increased the usual topping-to-sweet-potato ratio by cleverly undermining her second portion.
Joanna accompanied that with regular mashed potatoes (thus strengthening her biceps), as a canvas on which to display Martha's giblet gravy.
Holt roasted asparagus, while juggling the rolls that were also warming in the oven to do so.
And to please every palate, there were three kinds of cranberry sauce: Martha's raw cranberry and orange relish; Barbara's cranberry chutney; that jellied stuff from the can that the children adore.
The sweet finale was a picture-perfect pair of pumpkin pies, baked by Jacob.
What an accomplished - and full - family!
Taco Pizza
Wednesday November 21
Today we drove over to Carbondale, Illinois, to spend Thanksgiving with Holt's sister Becky and her family. Our niece Melanie was coming home from college that same day, so to welcome her, Becky made her favorite, taco pizza, pretty much as she had this time last year. Not to mention Cool Ranch Doritos and salsa. So I won't mention them. Nor shall I mention praeteritio.
Instead of a green salad, Holt cooked up some extra grated carrots left over from the carrot cake (see above) with ginger and lemon juice; very tasty, and surprisingly popular even with the vegetable-reluctant among the children.
For dessert, Becky made crèmes brûlées to celebrate Holt's birthday, and we licked every little cup clean.
Today we drove over to Carbondale, Illinois, to spend Thanksgiving with Holt's sister Becky and her family. Our niece Melanie was coming home from college that same day, so to welcome her, Becky made her favorite, taco pizza, pretty much as she had this time last year. Not to mention Cool Ranch Doritos and salsa. So I won't mention them. Nor shall I mention praeteritio.
Instead of a green salad, Holt cooked up some extra grated carrots left over from the carrot cake (see above) with ginger and lemon juice; very tasty, and surprisingly popular even with the vegetable-reluctant among the children.
For dessert, Becky made crèmes brûlées to celebrate Holt's birthday, and we licked every little cup clean.
Holt's Birthday Dinner
Tuesday November 20
Since we were going to drive to a big family Thanksgiving in just two days, Holt decided to have a quiet birthday celebration at home this year. Not that it wasn't going to be fancy. Here is the menu:
Beef tenderloins: Holt cleverly cut two choice inch-and-a half-thick slices off the ends of the tenderloin we served to Jeff and Caroline this past summer, and froze them for just such an occasion. They were crusted with thyme and kosher salt, seared in a hot pan, flipped every two minutes, and then set in the oven until they reached 120 degrees, just barely medium rare.Chanterelles sauce: to enrobe (good word, huh?) the meat, we got fresh chanterelle mushrooms from Madison's and made the sauce that La Côte Basque used to serve with veal medallions, saving one or two chanterelles to top each tenderloin, as directed. Holt also had a lot of fun flaming the cognac.
Turnip gratin: we've had this very recently, but loved it so much we had to have it again, only this time we used goose fat. Its spicy creaminess went very well with the strong woodsy flavors of beef and mushrooms.With the meal, we served a nice little bottle of red…Château de Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape 1989. We bought a case of this wine in 1991, when it was named Wine Spectator's Wine of the Year. We thought we were splashing out then, when it was $35 a bottle, but now it's up to $200-300. Aging has made it lighter but more complex, and its rating is higher now than it was in 1991; but as we've said before, it throws a sediment like a raisin pie, and has to be strained and decanted.
Every birthday demands cake; Holt's demands chocolate cake. So he decided to bake our nephew's chocolate soufflé cupcakes. They're delectably intense, and intensely delectable, so here's the recipe.
Mike Sosin's Chocolate Soufflé Cupcakes
(makes 12 cupcakes)
8 oz. bittersweet chocolate
1 stick butter, plus extra for greasing a muffin pan
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup sugar
1 Tbsp. natural process cocoa powder, plus extra for dusting
4 Tbsps. flour
pinch salt
4 large eggs
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Melt the chocolate with the butter and vanilla, either in a double boiler or the microwave. In another bowl, thoroughly mix the sugar, cocoa powder, flour, and salt.
With your mixer starting at low and gradually working its way up to high, beat an egg at a time gradually into the chocolate mixture. Blend in the dry ingredients a little at a time, so there are no lumps. Beat at high for 5 minutes, and then refrigerate for 5-10 minutes.
Abundantly butter a 12-cup muffin pan, and dust a little cocoa powder into each one. Fill each cup with the cooled batter, about 2/3 full. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until puffed up; serve at once.
You can serve these with a dollop of whipped cream or ice cream on top, with a fruit sauce lapping the bottom, or both. But as Mike says, they are good all alone.
Sorrel Vichyssoise
Monday November 19
Another main dish from Epicurious designed to get the last lovely taste of our garden greens.
We pulled up some of the precious few leeks that came up this year, and our still-abundant sorrel and chives. The soup was scrumptious hot as well as cold, and the potatoes gave it enough body to make it an entire meal.
Sorrel has two faces. As one of the reviewers complained, the half-pound required by this recipe cost about $20 where s/he lives. Also, the book-minded remember only the elegant dinner from Brideshead Revisited when they hear of sorrel soup. But another reviewer (like Barbara), was reminded of his Polish grandmother's recipe, and yet another pointed out that s/he was growing sorrel in a pot in a Manhattan apartment, and it grew like a weed - as indeed it is.
It's hard to grow sorrel from seed, but a healthy plant will spread to the point of being invasive, and little runners come off it in late summer and can be transplanted. The flavor is light and lemony, unless you overcook it (as my grandmother did), when it becomes sour. She thought it cleared the blood; modern health-mavens would say it contains antioxidants, or lutein, or something. Have we mentioned that we don't care? It is delicious.
Another main dish from Epicurious designed to get the last lovely taste of our garden greens.
We pulled up some of the precious few leeks that came up this year, and our still-abundant sorrel and chives. The soup was scrumptious hot as well as cold, and the potatoes gave it enough body to make it an entire meal.
Sorrel has two faces. As one of the reviewers complained, the half-pound required by this recipe cost about $20 where s/he lives. Also, the book-minded remember only the elegant dinner from Brideshead Revisited when they hear of sorrel soup. But another reviewer (like Barbara), was reminded of his Polish grandmother's recipe, and yet another pointed out that s/he was growing sorrel in a pot in a Manhattan apartment, and it grew like a weed - as indeed it is.
It's hard to grow sorrel from seed, but a healthy plant will spread to the point of being invasive, and little runners come off it in late summer and can be transplanted. The flavor is light and lemony, unless you overcook it (as my grandmother did), when it becomes sour. She thought it cleared the blood; modern health-mavens would say it contains antioxidants, or lutein, or something. Have we mentioned that we don't care? It is delicious.
Swiss Chard with Poblanos and Hominy
Sunday November 18Swiss chard and poblano peppers were among the last survivors in our garden, so this recipe sang out to us from the pages of this December's issue of Food & Wine.
It's billed as one of "7 amazing sides" (a word we dislike), but it's hearty enough to be a vegetarian entrée, sort of a posole without pork. One hint, though: the recipe as written contains no added liquid, but it really needs some. We reserved the liquid from the can of hominy, and added it as needed after the chard stems had gone in. The result was still stewy rather than souplike, and very tasty. Not to mention the antioxidants and other healthful stuff you get from all these vegetables, which we won't, because as you may have noticed, we don't care. We eat good food because it's good.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Thanksgiving Bonus: Cranberry Chutney
Barbara won a second prize (and she wuz robbed!) for this chutney at the Hamilton County Fair last August.
It's not only delicious, with a complex but not-too-demanding flavor that makes it perfect for other roasted meats as well as turkey, but it's all done in the microwave, and can be presented on the table the next day in the same dish, so long as you have a good-looking 2.5 quart microwave-safe covered casserole.
Start this at least a day before you want to serve it, with:
1 12-oz. bag fresh (or frozen) cranberries, rinsed and picked over
1 orange, skin intact, chopped into quarter-inch cubes (discard any seeds)
juice from a half lemon (about 2 Tbsp.)
2 Tbsp. shallots, minced (or you can use sweet red onion)
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. yellow mustard seeds, lightly crushed
1 tsp. dry ginger powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/3 tsp. cayenne pepper
2/3 cup raisins
1/3 cup shelled unsalted (preferably raw) pistachio nuts, whole or coarsely chopped
Combine all the ingredients except the raisins and pistachios in your casserole. Cook covered at 100% power for 4 minutes. Uncover, stir, and continue cooking for 5 minutes more, or until the liquid is bubbling and the cranberries start to burst open.
Remove from the oven, and stir in the pistachios and raisins. Cover and set aside to cool and let the flavors ripen, preferably for an entire day. After that, refrigerate, and serve whenever you're ready.
Any leftovers can be put in a covered jar in the refrigerator. It will keep for months.
Happy Thanksgiving!
It's not only delicious, with a complex but not-too-demanding flavor that makes it perfect for other roasted meats as well as turkey, but it's all done in the microwave, and can be presented on the table the next day in the same dish, so long as you have a good-looking 2.5 quart microwave-safe covered casserole.
Start this at least a day before you want to serve it, with:
1 12-oz. bag fresh (or frozen) cranberries, rinsed and picked over
1 orange, skin intact, chopped into quarter-inch cubes (discard any seeds)
juice from a half lemon (about 2 Tbsp.)
2 Tbsp. shallots, minced (or you can use sweet red onion)
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. yellow mustard seeds, lightly crushed
1 tsp. dry ginger powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/3 tsp. cayenne pepper
2/3 cup raisins
1/3 cup shelled unsalted (preferably raw) pistachio nuts, whole or coarsely chopped
Combine all the ingredients except the raisins and pistachios in your casserole. Cook covered at 100% power for 4 minutes. Uncover, stir, and continue cooking for 5 minutes more, or until the liquid is bubbling and the cranberries start to burst open.
Remove from the oven, and stir in the pistachios and raisins. Cover and set aside to cool and let the flavors ripen, preferably for an entire day. After that, refrigerate, and serve whenever you're ready.
Any leftovers can be put in a covered jar in the refrigerator. It will keep for months.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Roast Beef with Roasted Vegetables
Saturday November 17
Bottom round roasts were on sale at the IGA, and when cold weather is coming on, there's nothing better or simpler than a classic roast beast.
We didn’t' even bother with the red wine deglaze, but followed the directions of the Department of Redundancy Department (they're back again) and had au-jus gravy.
Back in spring, we steamed vegetables, but in fall it's better (and easier, and creates fewer dishes to wash) to roast your rude root vegetables in the same pan as the roast beast. We did shallots and chopped carrots and parsnips for the last hour in the low oven, and they came out brown and tasty.
Bottom round roasts were on sale at the IGA, and when cold weather is coming on, there's nothing better or simpler than a classic roast beast.
We didn’t' even bother with the red wine deglaze, but followed the directions of the Department of Redundancy Department (they're back again) and had au-jus gravy.
Back in spring, we steamed vegetables, but in fall it's better (and easier, and creates fewer dishes to wash) to roast your rude root vegetables in the same pan as the roast beast. We did shallots and chopped carrots and parsnips for the last hour in the low oven, and they came out brown and tasty.
Pork with Napa Cabbage
Friday November 16
Can you believe that we still had half a Napa cabbage, the other half of which had gone into last Friday's blue-cheese slaw? We decided to treat it as a Chinese stir-fry, so we defrosted a half-pound package of scrappy pork ends.
Barbara cut the pork into thin bite-size slices, and marinated it in:
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 Tbsp. Shao Xing wine
1/4 tsp. sugar, and
a grind of white pepper.
Holt cored the Napa cabbage and cut it into half-inch-wide slices, about the same size as the pork. He cleverly kept the thicker bottom slices on one end of the chopping board, and the thinner top leaves at the other.
He also minced about a Tbsp. of fresh ginger
and a couple of garlic cloves.
The whites of 3 or 4 scallions got chopped into inch lengths, while the greens were chopped more finely and kept separate.
We put out vegetable oil,
salt,
rice vinegar, and
hoisin sauce;
and that completed our mise-en-place.
Barbara heated the oil in the wok over medium heat, and stir-fried the Napa cabbage, thicker slices first, adding the ginger, a little salt, and extra oil if needed as it cooked. When she got to the thinner parts of the Napa, she added the scallion whites, and finally, when the whole thing was crisp-tender, the scallion greens for a few last stirs. She turned this out into a covered platter, to keep warm.
She reheated the wok, this time to high, and stir-fried the pork with the garlic. When the meat was just browned on all sides, she put the vegetables back in, lowered the flame a bit, and stirred in about a Tbsp. of vinegar and about a Tbsp. of hoisin sauce, tasting often; the idea was to get a barbecue-y yet sweet-and-sour taste. Once we got that, the dish was done, served, and chopsticked up.
Can you believe that we still had half a Napa cabbage, the other half of which had gone into last Friday's blue-cheese slaw? We decided to treat it as a Chinese stir-fry, so we defrosted a half-pound package of scrappy pork ends.
Barbara cut the pork into thin bite-size slices, and marinated it in:
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 Tbsp. Shao Xing wine
1/4 tsp. sugar, and
a grind of white pepper.
Holt cored the Napa cabbage and cut it into half-inch-wide slices, about the same size as the pork. He cleverly kept the thicker bottom slices on one end of the chopping board, and the thinner top leaves at the other.
He also minced about a Tbsp. of fresh ginger
and a couple of garlic cloves.
The whites of 3 or 4 scallions got chopped into inch lengths, while the greens were chopped more finely and kept separate.
We put out vegetable oil,
salt,
rice vinegar, and
hoisin sauce;
and that completed our mise-en-place.
Barbara heated the oil in the wok over medium heat, and stir-fried the Napa cabbage, thicker slices first, adding the ginger, a little salt, and extra oil if needed as it cooked. When she got to the thinner parts of the Napa, she added the scallion whites, and finally, when the whole thing was crisp-tender, the scallion greens for a few last stirs. She turned this out into a covered platter, to keep warm.
She reheated the wok, this time to high, and stir-fried the pork with the garlic. When the meat was just browned on all sides, she put the vegetables back in, lowered the flame a bit, and stirred in about a Tbsp. of vinegar and about a Tbsp. of hoisin sauce, tasting often; the idea was to get a barbecue-y yet sweet-and-sour taste. Once we got that, the dish was done, served, and chopsticked up.
Cow Pie
Thursday November 15
If Shepherd's Pie is made from sheep (usually "lamb"), but we cook it with ground beef, it must be called Cowherd's Pie, right? Well, maybe.
We were inspired to cook this, oddly enough, by Gordon Ramsay's "Kitchen Nightmares." On this show, he remade the truly horrific-looking shepherd's pie served at a place in Westhampton called Finn McCool's into something good to eat.
His own amazing foreshortened version is HERE,
and his abbreviated version is also visible on YouTube.
Done!
He uses lamb, of course, so we adapted - thus the "Cow Pie." Also, into the finished ground beef mix, we threw some chopped vegetables (mainly potatoes, carrots, and parsnips) left over from the pot roast. Oh, and we made the potato topping with cream rather than egg yolks. Still delicious, though.
If Shepherd's Pie is made from sheep (usually "lamb"), but we cook it with ground beef, it must be called Cowherd's Pie, right? Well, maybe.
We were inspired to cook this, oddly enough, by Gordon Ramsay's "Kitchen Nightmares." On this show, he remade the truly horrific-looking shepherd's pie served at a place in Westhampton called Finn McCool's into something good to eat.
His own amazing foreshortened version is HERE,
and his abbreviated version is also visible on YouTube.
Done!
He uses lamb, of course, so we adapted - thus the "Cow Pie." Also, into the finished ground beef mix, we threw some chopped vegetables (mainly potatoes, carrots, and parsnips) left over from the pot roast. Oh, and we made the potato topping with cream rather than egg yolks. Still delicious, though.
Minestrone (ancora) with Mediterranean Tuna Salad
Wednesday November 14
As we mentioned below, there was enough leftover minestrone from a couple of days ago for two more bowls. That's a very light dinner, however, so we fleshed it out with a salad.
There's still a profusion of lovely young lettuces in the garden (!), and some saved and sill-ripened garden tomatoes (even a Purple Cherokee or two). That and some slices of red onion, marinated artichoke hearts, a few black olives, and a can of oil-packed tuna, when tossed with good oil and sherry vinegar, produces the kind of tuna salad I first encountered as a light lunch in Spain. With soup, it's a dinner.
As we mentioned below, there was enough leftover minestrone from a couple of days ago for two more bowls. That's a very light dinner, however, so we fleshed it out with a salad.
There's still a profusion of lovely young lettuces in the garden (!), and some saved and sill-ripened garden tomatoes (even a Purple Cherokee or two). That and some slices of red onion, marinated artichoke hearts, a few black olives, and a can of oil-packed tuna, when tossed with good oil and sherry vinegar, produces the kind of tuna salad I first encountered as a light lunch in Spain. With soup, it's a dinner.
Turnip Gratin with leftover Pot Roast
Tuesday November 13
As soon as we saw this recipe in last month's Gourmet, we knew we had to try it, as we love turnips, cream, and cheesy bakes. It came out great, even though our cast-iron skillet was a bit big for the halved recipe we made, so the result was sort of a gratin/galette. Keep the heat low; you want to brown the bottom layer of neaps, but since you can't really tell how they're doing, go by sense of smell.
For protein, we sliced up the leftover pot roast from Saturday and just nuked it in its own juices. The combination was comfort food heaven.
As soon as we saw this recipe in last month's Gourmet, we knew we had to try it, as we love turnips, cream, and cheesy bakes. It came out great, even though our cast-iron skillet was a bit big for the halved recipe we made, so the result was sort of a gratin/galette. Keep the heat low; you want to brown the bottom layer of neaps, but since you can't really tell how they're doing, go by sense of smell.
For protein, we sliced up the leftover pot roast from Saturday and just nuked it in its own juices. The combination was comfort food heaven.
Minestrone
Monday November 12
Or, as the Department of Redundancy Department wanted us to say, "a big minestrone soup" (they've been so full of themselves since that Napas with Napa and Napa thing).
The soup was inspired by a basket of fresh cranberry beans we bought from the same farmer at Findlay Market who had sold them to us in the spring. The pods were a little crispier, but the beans inside were nice and tender.
We also wanted to use some of the moth-chomped but otherwise perfectly good cabbage sprouts and just-on-the-edge tomatoes we still had in the garden. The perfect recipe, then, was a minestrone. This one is based on Marcella Hazan's Minestrone di Romagna, though we simmered the vegetables according to their tenderness, not all at the beginning and then boiled for three hours, the way she does it. I have no idea what zucchini that had been sautéed and then boiled for three hours might look like - probably nothing.
So, in a large soup pot cook the following on low heat in a combination of butter and oil, for about 2-3 minutes each while chopping the next ingredient:
2 sliced onions
2 chopped carrots
a chopped stick of celery.
Then add a cup or more of chicken broth and enough water to bring things to a good level, so that everything is covered and can float a bit.
Add a cup or so of cranberry beans and however much shredded cabbage you have.
Cook these until close to tender
Add 4 or so boiling potatoes in small cubes
Throw in a cup or more of finely-chopped or puréed tomatoes
The whole thing simmers for three hours or so. All you need to do is stir occasionally.
In the last half-hour, add a chopped zucchino
and salt and pepper to taste.
Serve topped with grated parmesan or romano cheese.
There were two bowls for each of us, and a couple of bowls left over for later - minestrone is one of those things that's even better as a leftover.
Or, as the Department of Redundancy Department wanted us to say, "a big minestrone soup" (they've been so full of themselves since that Napas with Napa and Napa thing).
The soup was inspired by a basket of fresh cranberry beans we bought from the same farmer at Findlay Market who had sold them to us in the spring. The pods were a little crispier, but the beans inside were nice and tender.
We also wanted to use some of the moth-chomped but otherwise perfectly good cabbage sprouts and just-on-the-edge tomatoes we still had in the garden. The perfect recipe, then, was a minestrone. This one is based on Marcella Hazan's Minestrone di Romagna, though we simmered the vegetables according to their tenderness, not all at the beginning and then boiled for three hours, the way she does it. I have no idea what zucchini that had been sautéed and then boiled for three hours might look like - probably nothing.
So, in a large soup pot cook the following on low heat in a combination of butter and oil, for about 2-3 minutes each while chopping the next ingredient:
2 sliced onions
2 chopped carrots
a chopped stick of celery.
Then add a cup or more of chicken broth and enough water to bring things to a good level, so that everything is covered and can float a bit.
Add a cup or so of cranberry beans and however much shredded cabbage you have.
Cook these until close to tender
Add 4 or so boiling potatoes in small cubes
Throw in a cup or more of finely-chopped or puréed tomatoes
The whole thing simmers for three hours or so. All you need to do is stir occasionally.
In the last half-hour, add a chopped zucchino
and salt and pepper to taste.
Serve topped with grated parmesan or romano cheese.
There were two bowls for each of us, and a couple of bowls left over for later - minestrone is one of those things that's even better as a leftover.
Napas with Napa and Napa
Sunday November 11
Yes, friends, the Department of Redundancy Department has taken over this blog.
It started when Holt bought some Napa sausages (our favorite type, made with pork and bell peppers) from Kroeger & Sons at Findlay Market.
We fried them up with some onions and a few tiny (hot) poblanos from the garden.
We also had some of the wonderful Napa cabbage slaw left over from two days ago.
It was while we were eating our Napas with Napa that we discovered that the wine we were drinking (Charles Shaw "Three-Buck Chuck" Chardonnay from Trader Joe's) came from the Napa Valley.
Completely unplanned, but there it is.
Yes, friends, the Department of Redundancy Department has taken over this blog.
It started when Holt bought some Napa sausages (our favorite type, made with pork and bell peppers) from Kroeger & Sons at Findlay Market.
We fried them up with some onions and a few tiny (hot) poblanos from the garden.
We also had some of the wonderful Napa cabbage slaw left over from two days ago.
It was while we were eating our Napas with Napa that we discovered that the wine we were drinking (Charles Shaw "Three-Buck Chuck" Chardonnay from Trader Joe's) came from the Napa Valley.
Completely unplanned, but there it is.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Pot Roast
Saturday November 10
Our basic guide to pot roast is a simplification of Julia Child's classic smothered brisket recipe from The Way to Cook. It requires no pre-browning and sits happily in the oven for 4 hours with only an occasional baste. I can't believe we haven't had it for a year or more - at least, I can't find it when I search the blog, though it may be hiding under another name.
3-4 lb. beef brisket - though we use any braising cut of beef we can get at the IGA, following the wisdom of Alton Brown: top, not tip.
2 large cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. dried thyme (plus some fresh, if you've got it)
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper
1/4 cup oil
2-3 onions, sliced (not too thin)
1-2 cups diced tomatoes, canned or fresh
3-4 potatoes, ideally a boiling type like Yukon Golds, redskins, or Kennebecs
2-3 carrots
any other vegetable you'd like - parsnips, turnips, cauliflower, you name it.
Get your covered pyrex casserole or Dutch oven out - make sure it has enough room for both the roast and the later vegetables.
Mash the garlic up with the dried thyme, salt, and pepper, until it's a paste. Whip the oil into it, and rub the result all over the beef. You can let it marinate like this in the fridge, or proceed directly to roasting. If the latter, plop the beef in the center of your casserole, and pile first the onions, then the tomatoes (mixed with any fresh thyme you happen to have), on top of it. Cover tightly, and place in the center of a 300-degree oven.
Leave it there for 4 hours total. You should baste it once after 45 minutes, when the vedge and beef start to give forth their juices, and sort of irregularly thereafter, whenever you happen to wander by. The cover and the vedge on the top keep the whole thing moist, and there will be plenty of liquid in the casserole.
About an hour before you want to eat, cut up the potatoes, carrots, and/or any other vegetable you like that takes about that time, and throw them in the casserole, basting and submerging them in the liquid. Tenderer vegetables can go in later in the process and simmer for however long they take. Once the vedge is almost cooked, you can take off the lid and let some of the liquid evaporate. But we like it with plenty of sauce.
At the end, the beef is so tender you can pull it apart, or just take it out and slice it across the grain. Serve with the vedge alongside, and douse both with the abundant beefy juices. We love this reheated as leftovers as well.
Our basic guide to pot roast is a simplification of Julia Child's classic smothered brisket recipe from The Way to Cook. It requires no pre-browning and sits happily in the oven for 4 hours with only an occasional baste. I can't believe we haven't had it for a year or more - at least, I can't find it when I search the blog, though it may be hiding under another name.
3-4 lb. beef brisket - though we use any braising cut of beef we can get at the IGA, following the wisdom of Alton Brown: top, not tip.
2 large cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. dried thyme (plus some fresh, if you've got it)
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper
1/4 cup oil
2-3 onions, sliced (not too thin)
1-2 cups diced tomatoes, canned or fresh
3-4 potatoes, ideally a boiling type like Yukon Golds, redskins, or Kennebecs
2-3 carrots
any other vegetable you'd like - parsnips, turnips, cauliflower, you name it.
Get your covered pyrex casserole or Dutch oven out - make sure it has enough room for both the roast and the later vegetables.
Mash the garlic up with the dried thyme, salt, and pepper, until it's a paste. Whip the oil into it, and rub the result all over the beef. You can let it marinate like this in the fridge, or proceed directly to roasting. If the latter, plop the beef in the center of your casserole, and pile first the onions, then the tomatoes (mixed with any fresh thyme you happen to have), on top of it. Cover tightly, and place in the center of a 300-degree oven.
Leave it there for 4 hours total. You should baste it once after 45 minutes, when the vedge and beef start to give forth their juices, and sort of irregularly thereafter, whenever you happen to wander by. The cover and the vedge on the top keep the whole thing moist, and there will be plenty of liquid in the casserole.
About an hour before you want to eat, cut up the potatoes, carrots, and/or any other vegetable you like that takes about that time, and throw them in the casserole, basting and submerging them in the liquid. Tenderer vegetables can go in later in the process and simmer for however long they take. Once the vedge is almost cooked, you can take off the lid and let some of the liquid evaporate. But we like it with plenty of sauce.
At the end, the beef is so tender you can pull it apart, or just take it out and slice it across the grain. Serve with the vedge alongside, and douse both with the abundant beefy juices. We love this reheated as leftovers as well.
Pork Piccata and Napa Cabbage Slaw
Friday November 9
When giant boneless pork tenderloins go on sale, we buy a whole one (a long narrow thing, ca. 5-6 lbs.), cut it up into proper dinner-sized portions, and freeze most of it. Slightly stringy lengths are cut into thin pieces for Chinese barbecue (char siu); nice round bits are sliced either into half-inch-thick medallions or paper-thin scallopine; and there should always be at least one 2-pound length left whole, for a pork roast.
The thinnest slices are suitable for any scaloppine-type recipe that usually uses veal or chicken breast. We chose the classic piccata, which uses Barbara's favorite flavor, lemon, and is as quick as a very quick thing.
Lay out 4-6 paper-thin slices of pork, salt them a tiny bit, and pat them with the leaves from 4-6 sprigs of fresh lemon thyme.
In butter and oil, brown the pork scaloppine on each side, about 4-5 minutes total. Set aside in a warming oven.
Deglaze the pan with 2-3 Tbsps. lemon juice. Stir to thicken it over high heat, and throw in a Tbsp. or so of capers.
Get the pork out, and pour any juices off it into the pan, where they can thicken a bit more. If the pork needs rewarming, you can toss the slices in the pan, but if it's still toasty, just lay them out on plates, pour the hot sauce over, and serve.
Here's the directions for the tasty blue-cheese slaw we had alongside, originally Nice Kathy's recipe.
This is the recipe we think of first whenever we get a napa cabbage.
When giant boneless pork tenderloins go on sale, we buy a whole one (a long narrow thing, ca. 5-6 lbs.), cut it up into proper dinner-sized portions, and freeze most of it. Slightly stringy lengths are cut into thin pieces for Chinese barbecue (char siu); nice round bits are sliced either into half-inch-thick medallions or paper-thin scallopine; and there should always be at least one 2-pound length left whole, for a pork roast.
The thinnest slices are suitable for any scaloppine-type recipe that usually uses veal or chicken breast. We chose the classic piccata, which uses Barbara's favorite flavor, lemon, and is as quick as a very quick thing.
Lay out 4-6 paper-thin slices of pork, salt them a tiny bit, and pat them with the leaves from 4-6 sprigs of fresh lemon thyme.
In butter and oil, brown the pork scaloppine on each side, about 4-5 minutes total. Set aside in a warming oven.
Deglaze the pan with 2-3 Tbsps. lemon juice. Stir to thicken it over high heat, and throw in a Tbsp. or so of capers.
Get the pork out, and pour any juices off it into the pan, where they can thicken a bit more. If the pork needs rewarming, you can toss the slices in the pan, but if it's still toasty, just lay them out on plates, pour the hot sauce over, and serve.
Here's the directions for the tasty blue-cheese slaw we had alongside, originally Nice Kathy's recipe.
This is the recipe we think of first whenever we get a napa cabbage.
Southwestern Stuffed Chicken Breasts and Fresh Artichokes
Thursday November 8
Don't tell anybody, but the stuffing for this was mainly leftover cheese and roasted poblanos from our Halloween chiles rellenos. We often find ourselves making something just because it uses up leftovers from something else. That don't mean it ain't good, though.
So finely chopped up the poblanos (prob. 1/2 cup or so), a huge handful of cilantro (and Holt has huge hands—elegant, though), and the leftover swiss-goat-(Swiss goat?)-ground coriander-ground cumin mix, and stuffed it under the chicken bosom skin. Baked in the oven at 350º for 25 minutes. Needed some more salt next to the flesh, however.
As for the artichokes that were our second course, Holt prepared them in the ordinary way, but he rubs them with lots of lemon juice, and throws the juiced-out lemon halves into the water when he boils (actually, pressure-cooks) them. The pressure-cooking takes around 20 minutes.
You need a dip with fresh artichokes, and we made the very simplest one (possibly because we were herbed-out?): mayonnaise flavored with curry powder and just a drop or two of soy sauce, until it gets to be a light golden beige. You have to let it sit for a couple of minutes to let the curry flavor develop, but it is excellent with any type of vegetable crudités as well as with artichokes.
Don't tell anybody, but the stuffing for this was mainly leftover cheese and roasted poblanos from our Halloween chiles rellenos. We often find ourselves making something just because it uses up leftovers from something else. That don't mean it ain't good, though.
So finely chopped up the poblanos (prob. 1/2 cup or so), a huge handful of cilantro (and Holt has huge hands—elegant, though), and the leftover swiss-goat-(Swiss goat?)-ground coriander-ground cumin mix, and stuffed it under the chicken bosom skin. Baked in the oven at 350º for 25 minutes. Needed some more salt next to the flesh, however.
As for the artichokes that were our second course, Holt prepared them in the ordinary way, but he rubs them with lots of lemon juice, and throws the juiced-out lemon halves into the water when he boils (actually, pressure-cooks) them. The pressure-cooking takes around 20 minutes.
You need a dip with fresh artichokes, and we made the very simplest one (possibly because we were herbed-out?): mayonnaise flavored with curry powder and just a drop or two of soy sauce, until it gets to be a light golden beige. You have to let it sit for a couple of minutes to let the curry flavor develop, but it is excellent with any type of vegetable crudités as well as with artichokes.
Penne with Salami and Zucchini
Wednesday November 7
We had the British version of this just over a month ago:
But the basic American recipe is still HERE
and still good.
We had the British version of this just over a month ago:
But the basic American recipe is still HERE
and still good.
Herbfarm Crab and Lemon Thyme Soufflé
Tuesday November 6And yet a third recipe from the Herbfarm Cookbook - we are really on a roll here.
Holt somehow did what Elizabeth had done and forgot to preheat the oven, probably because he was waiting for Barbara to get in from the garden with the lemon thyme. The soufflé was thus a touch more sloppy than it would have been otherwise, but damn tasty nonetheless.
original recipe for
6 FIRST-COURSE OR 4 MAIN-COURSE SERVINGS
Fine dry bread crumbs, for the ramekins
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
Salt
3 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons minced lemon thyme
1/2 pound fresh crabmeat, picked over to remove cartilage
Freshly ground pepper
6 large egg whites, at room temperature
Butter six 6-ounce or four 8-ounce ramekins and coat with bread crumbs, tapping out any excess. Set the prepared ramekins in a large shallow roasting pan.
Melt the butter in a medium sauce-pan. Add the flour and whisk over moderate heat until bubbling, about 1 minute. Add the milk and 1/4 teaspoon of salt and whisk until the mixture boils and thickens. Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the egg yolks, then whisk vigorously over moderate heat until the mixture boils again. Whisk in the lemon thyme. Transfer the soufflé base to a large bowl, press a piece of plastic wrap directly on the surface and let cool.
Preheat the oven to 375°. Whisk the soufflé base until smooth, then fold in the crabmeat. Season with salt and pepper.
Beat the egg whites until they hold firm peaks. Stir one-third of the beaten whites into the base to lighten it, then fold in the remaining whites. Spoon the batter into the ramekins, filling them to within 1/2 inch of the rims. Wipe the rims clean.
Pour enough hot water into the roasting pan to reach halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Bake the soufflés for 30 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve immediately.
What we did instead was make our standard big ass soufflé (which we haven't had since March!) using swiss cheese and lotsa crab. The main inspiration from the Herbfarm is the lemon thyme and no onion/shallot in the soufflé base. Very crabby, very good!
(Yes, I know I've already put up a picture of the egg yolk just like this one, but the Euclidean perfection never fails to amaze me. The vedge is here just 'cuz it's pretty.)
Salmon with Sage-Roasted Asparagus
Monday November 5
Another recipe from the Herbfarm Cookbook.
Original recipe:
Roasted Asparagus with Sage and Lemon Butter
SERVES: 6
ingredients
2 pounds thin asparagus, ends trimmed
2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
30 sage leaves
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Shredded zest of 1/2 lemon
Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for shaving
directions
Preheat the oven to 450°. Toss the asparagus with the olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Spread on a baking sheet and roast in the oven for about 5 minutes, or until the spears are just tender when pierced with a knife.
In a small skillet, melt the butter over moderately low heat. Add the sage leaves and cook, stirring often, until the butter is lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice and 1/4 teaspoon of salt.
Transfer the asparagus to a warmed platter and spoon the sage-lemon butter on top. Garnish with the lemon zest, top with shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and serve.
We cut this down for two people but a full l(u)b. of asparagus. When the gooses were just about finished, we shoved them over and plopped down 2 salmon steaks. Done in 5-7 minutes with a flip in the middle. No cheese.
They also have a variant where the sage leaves are fried and the asparagus is dressed with lemon juice and olive oil for a salad.
Another recipe from the Herbfarm Cookbook.
Original recipe:
Roasted Asparagus with Sage and Lemon Butter
SERVES: 6
ingredients
2 pounds thin asparagus, ends trimmed
2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
30 sage leaves
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Shredded zest of 1/2 lemon
Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for shaving
directions
Preheat the oven to 450°. Toss the asparagus with the olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Spread on a baking sheet and roast in the oven for about 5 minutes, or until the spears are just tender when pierced with a knife.
In a small skillet, melt the butter over moderately low heat. Add the sage leaves and cook, stirring often, until the butter is lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice and 1/4 teaspoon of salt.
Transfer the asparagus to a warmed platter and spoon the sage-lemon butter on top. Garnish with the lemon zest, top with shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and serve.
We cut this down for two people but a full l(u)b. of asparagus. When the gooses were just about finished, we shoved them over and plopped down 2 salmon steaks. Done in 5-7 minutes with a flip in the middle. No cheese.
They also have a variant where the sage leaves are fried and the asparagus is dressed with lemon juice and olive oil for a salad.
Herbfarm Eggs Benedict with Sorrel Sauce
Sunday November 4Today we got The Herbfarm Cookbook by Jerry Traunfeld out of the library, and we both fell in love with it: Holt because it gives a whole new take on some classic recipes, me because it integrates the herbs I'm already growing into an entire range of dishes. Take this eggs benedict: its sauce uses the giant bush of fall sorrel that has been calling out to us from the garden; and using sorrel means that you don't have to thicken the sauce with egg yolk and then thin it with lemon to get both citrusy flavor and richness.
Ingredients
1 Tablespoon butter
a half of a small shallot, minced (just over a Tablespoon)
4 ounces sorrel, stems removed, leaves coarsely chopped
1/8 cup heavy cream
pinch salt
fresh ground white pepper
2 English muffins, split; we used Holt's fresh-baked buns (click for a picture of Holt's cute buns).
4 large or extra-large eggs
4 generous slices smoked salmon or nova lox (enough to cover the four half-buns), at room temperature
snipped chives, or snipped chive blossoms if there are any.
For sauce, melt the butter in a pan over medium heat. Add the shallot and cook until softened, less than a minute. Add half the sorrel, stir until it's wilted, then add the rest of the sorrel and continue to cook until it melts into a purée, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in the cream, taste, and season as you like with salt and pepper. Leave it on a low simmer, stirring occasionally.
Get the muffins or crumpets toasted in the toaster oven; leave them there in the warm.
Do the egg-poaching however you usually do it. We have little metal egg-poachers that we set in a covered pan of gently-boiling water until the whites are set and the yolks still soft but warm.
When the eggs are almost ready, arrange two of the toasted bun-halves on each of two warmed plates. Smear each bun with a little of the sauce, and top that with a slice of salmon to cover. Gingerly lift the eggs out of their poacher, and put one on each bun-half. Top those with the rest of warm sorrel sauce, and sprinkle each with chives or chive blossoms, for that touch of class that will make you feel more elegant as you grab your plate, snarf it all down, and maybe even lick the plate afterward.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)