FOOD ON THE FOOD

Cookbook Friday: Jam and Apple Butter

On the farm where my great grandmother, Ethel Shepherd, grew up (between Price and Brush Mountains in Virginia), there was fruit aplenty in the summertime.  There were wild blackberries in the pasture fields, and pear, wild plum, and cherry trees nearby.  They also had a small apple orchard.  Sometimes, they would even borrow a team of horses and wagon to go up the mountain for the day to pick huckleberries, packing sandwiches and water for lunch. 

The fruit was eaten fresh in season, and then canned, dried, or preserved to enjoy the rest of the year.  Here were her techniques for making jam and apple butter:

Jam

Preserves were made by measuring one cup of fruit to one cup of sugar, and boiling in an open pot until thick.  To judge thickness, put a spoonful on a saucer and let cool to see how it sets.  This requires twenty minutes minimum for strawberries, and more for other things depending on the ripeness of the fruit.

Apple Butter

Making apple butter presented an occasion for neighbors to get together.  Peeled apples were cut into snits (small sections).  The next day, the 40-gallon copper kettle was set up over an open fire with several gallons of cider in it.  The apples were dumped into the kettle and cooked to a mush.  Then, the sugar and spices were added and it was cooked some more.  It had to be stirred constantly.  The stir was ten to fifteen feet in length, with a crossbar on the handle.  The stirring was done by two people at a time, preferably a courtin’ couple.  If they hit the handle on the kettle with the stir, they got to kiss!

And you’re buying your apple butter at the store!

Sweet and Sour

As I mentioned before, I’m making an effort to be nicer to my husband.  To relive the early days of romance when, if he asked for a bowl of rice pudding, for example, I would immediately leap into action and return with 16 bowls of rice pudding balanced atop my head.  Instead of plopping a bag of rice down in front of him. 

(Why is new love so unreasonable?)

Last week, I made Dorie Greenspan’s lemon poppy seed muffins with dabs of jam inside.  Husband loved them despite the fact that he usually doesn’t like lemon- flavored things, which I had forgotten when I decided to make them (Strike 2).  Anyway, he liked them so much that he commanded me to make them again.  His exact words were: “I command you to make these again.”  It’s sort of a joke between us because he knows how well I respond to commands.  How the mere implication touches off an internal struggle in my brain between wanting to do the nice thing, and wanting to DENY anyone anything that is commanded of me.  (I’m the kind of woman that religious extremists dream of oppressing.  Except that nobody can oppress me better than me, so the joke’s on them!)

But, I still haven’t made the muffins, again.  Geez, Tammy, can’t you take a joke? 

Maybe not.

 

Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins

I broke my local rule so I could sneak some of my favorite jam into these muffins.  It’s Bonnie’s Black and Blue.  Blackberry and blueberry jam.  Together.  In one jar.  And it even has the local berry farmer’s name on the label: Pio Angelini.  How sweet!

2/3 cup sugar
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
¾ cup sour cream
2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 stick unsalted butter, melted cooled
2 Tbsp. poppy seeds
¼ cup blackberry jam

Preheat oven to 400°F and center rack in oven.  Butter a regular-sized muffin pan and set on cookie sheet.

In a large bowl, rub the sugar and lemon zest together with your fingers until the sugar is moist and strongly scented of lemon.  Whisk in the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  In a medium bowl, whisk the sour cream, eggs, vanilla, lemon juice, and melted butter together until well blended.  Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and, with a rubber spatula, gently but quickly stir to blend.  Stir in the poppy seeds.  Do not overmix.

Fill muffin cups with batter to the halfway mark.  With the back of a spoon, push a depression into the batter for a teaspoonful of jam.  Divide remaining batter between the cups and, using a clean spoon, push down the batter around the edges to seal in the jam.  Bake about 20 minutes or until the tops are golden.  Let cool in pan at least 5 minutes before removing them.

Source: Adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours.  And by the way, I’ve just joined the Tuesdays with Dorie baking club, so you’ll be seeing a lot more from her starting next week.  And maybe then my dad will stop complaining that we never have anything good in the house.

Cookbook Friday: Fried Apple Pies

Pearl [Price] Shepherd circa 1900 in Price’s Fork, Virginia.

Remember that little girl in last week’s post?  Here she is all grown up.  Ain’t she purty?

In 1899, Pearl Price married Zack Shepherd, who we’ll meet next week, and they had three daughters: Willie Mae, Ethel (my great grandmother), and Claribel.  They lived on a small, half-acre farm between Price and Brush Mountains in Virginia.  The land was quite fertile and they grew potatoes, corn, beans, cabbage, beets, turnips, and sweet potatoes, among other things.  They also had a cow, some pigs, and a small orchard of fruit trees. 

As I mentioned before, a lot of my great grandmother’s early recipes aren’t too terribly detailed, including this one:

“My mother [Pearl] used dried sour apples to make fried pies.  She cooked the apples, mashed them, and added spice, cloves, and sugar.  Next, she took a ball of biscuit dough and rolled it out round.  She spread the apple mixture on one half, and folded the other half over it.  Then, she fried it to a golden brown.  Boy, were they good!”

For most of these sorts of recipes, I’m leaving you to your own devices because that's just the kind of friend I am.  Plus, these excerpts are really more about preserving the history than actually replicating the dish.  But in this particular case, since I’ve made these fritters a bunch of times and I love them, it’s really the least I can do to share what I did (which I never wrote down so I had to make them again this week, hence my tardiness with the recipe).   But don’t get used to it.  I plan to revert back to my usual lazy self next week.

 

Fried Apple Pies

Instead of dried apples, I used fresh tart apples for the filling.  The biscuit dough is an adaptation of my Great Aunt Claribel's recipe.

Filling
3 tart apples, like Granny Smiths or McIntoshes or both
¼ cup sugar
½ tsp. cinnamon
Pinch cloves

Biscuit Dough
2 cups flour
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
3 Tbsp. shortening or lard
¾ cup buttermilk (and, perhaps, a tablespoon or two more)
Oil, shortening, or lard for frying

Peel, core, and dice apples.  In a small bowl, mix together sugar and spices.  Set aside 1 teaspoon of sugar mixture to sprinkle on finished fritters.  Add the apples and remaining sugar mixture to a small pot.  Cook over medium heat, stirring, until the apples start to release their juices.  Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook until softened, stirring occasionally, about 10-12 minutes (you may need to add a bit of water during the cooking process if it gets too dry).  Let cool.

In a medium-sized bowl, sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt.  Rub shortening into dry ingredients with your hands until pieces are smaller than pea-sized.  Add buttermilk and fluff with a fork to combine.  If dough is too dry to hold together, add a bit more buttermilk.  Bring dough together with hands and knead a few times until cohesive.  Break off pieces about golf-ball-sized and roll out into circles with a rolling pin.  Place apple filling in the middle of the dough circle (a bit off-center), then fold over one side and seal, pressing edges together with your fingers and crimping with a fork. 

Heat oil, shortening, or lard until hot (375°F if you want to get technical about it).  Fry until golden brown on each side and drain on paper towels.  Sprinkle with reserved spiced sugar immediately, and eat as hot as you can manage.

Makes at least 1 dozen.

Pearl [Price] Shepherd
Price’s Fork, Virginia
1879 – 196?

*Real Southerners, feel free to correct my biscuit technique.  There’s no substitute for experience.

Next Recipe: Virginia Cured Ham

     (Previously: Intro to Appalachia)

Winter White

       

After the Great Fudge Date Rape of 2007 (no means no), I decided I needed something sweet yet restrained to cleanse my psychological palate in this newest of years.  Something to lead me staggering back to the path of the righteous.  Or thereabouts.

So, I thought, what’s the opposite of fudge?  I know.  Grapefruit pie.

One of my favorite octogenarian relatives sent me a big box of local-to-her Texas grapefruits for Christmas.  And I do so love the occasional grapefruit, despite all those pesky food-miles.  This recipe is a twist on summery key lime pie, but I think grapefruit works any time of year.  Plus, who wouldn’t love a slice of frozen pie in the dead of winter? 

 

Grapefruit Pie

You can use any kind of grapefruit: Ruby Red, pink, white.  But, I happen to like it best with the tart whites, which are increasingly hard to find these days.

3.5 oz. sleeve Goya plain Maria cookies (In the Latin American section of the supermarket.  They kind of taste like animal crackers, which you could also use.  Or graham crackers, of course.)
4 Tbsp. butter
14-oz. can sweetened condensed milk
¼ cup grapefruit juice (from ½ grapefruit)
2 grapefruits worth of zest (Yes, you’ll be left with some bald grapefruits.  Just have them for breakfast the next day)
½ cup heavy cream
1/3 cup sour cream
3 oz. cream cheese

In a blender or food processor, whiz the cookies into crumbs.  Dump into a bowl and, with your fingers, work the butter into the crumbs until it’s uniformly incorporated.  Knead until you end up with something dough-like.  Press evenly into the bottom of a 9-inch pie plate.  I don’t bother bringing it up the sides because you never know how high the filling is going to come up, and it just ends up looking stupid.

Using a mixer with a whisk attachment, blend the rest of the ingredients in a large bowl until the lumps are gone.  It can take a while.  Okay, you can get away with a few lumps.  Pour into crust, cover with a plate, and freeze until set, I’m guessing at least 6 hours.  I stopped paying attention by this point.  I like it best before it gets to Popsicle consistency, though.  Slice it right before you intend to serve it, otherwise a few sexy drips will turn into a significantly less attractive puddle.

Apple Pie for Preschoolers

The Preschooler has developed a fascination with the Swedish Chef.  I don’t know how that could have happened.  From another room, I’ll hear him launch into the song and a second later, something crashes.  Stern words are issued, but deep down, I know it’s all my fault.

In an attempt to channel some of his “enthusiasm,” I asked if he wanted to make some Swedish apple pie.  But no smashing, I reminded him.  The Swedish Chef spends most of his days in time-out. 

My friend, Erin, had forwarded me this recipe that she said the kids could practically make themselves.  So, I tied on his apron, grabbed my coat, and left for an afternoon of unencumbered shopping.  “I want it warm when I get back,” I shouted as the door slammed behind me. 

It really is a cinch, though.  No bottom crust.  No rolling out.  Just dump a bunch of things into a pie plate, and magical deliciousness happens.  Okay, so you might want to help slice the apples.  Maybe handle the butter-melting process.  Escort the pie in and out of the hot box.  But, other than that, just let the kid go.

It was somewhere between the brown sugar and the flour that I heard it: “Mmmm.  It really is sweet-ish,” he said, licking the spoon.

Awww.  And here I was worrying about spreading baseless stereotypes. 

Sweet-ish Apple Pie

This has a cookie dough-ish crust that’s just as tasty as rolled-out pastry, but it’s quicker and even easier than, well…pie.

5-6 medium apples (we used a hodge-podge)
1 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
¾ cup butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1 egg
¼ cup chopped walnuts
Pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350°F.  Peel and slice the apples into thin wedges and arrange them in a 10-inch pie plate.  Sprinkle brown sugar and cinnamon evenly on top (no need to mix it up unless it all lands in one big mound, which isn't inconceivable).  In a medium bowl, add melted butter, sugar, flour, egg, nuts, and salt, and mix until combined.  Pour over apples, spreading batter to the edges.  Bake 45-55 minutes, until crust is golden-brown.  Serve with vanilla ice cream.

A Happy Case of the Blues

I have to jump on the blueberry cobbler bandwagon this week because, well, I made blueberry cobbler.  (Yeah, it’s not really much more complicated than that.)

And why should cobbler be complicated, anyway?  Some sweetened fruit, some flaky dough, and vanilla (bean) ice cream melting all over the place.  So, here’s my favorite recipe, an adaptation of something that came out of the Cook’s Illustrated test kitchen many years ago.  Did I mention I worked there once?

I learned a great many things in those hallowed halls, including the best way to peel garlic (with the back of a knife and a mighty thwack) and how to mince it finely (with a little salt and your knife at an acute angle making a sort of rhythmic mashing motion).  I also learned that sometimes I like things better when they’ve only been tested, say, 7 times, as opposed to 57.  So, I started making this recipe at home before the head recipe-tester was even done, yet.  Good enough for me, I thought.  (This attitude might have something to do with why I no longer work there.)

Anyway, the “best” recipe is always a matter of opinion.  For me, though, it doesn’t get any better than this.

 

Maybe the Best Blueberry Cobbler (print-friendly version)

6 cups blueberries
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
½ cup sugar, plus 1 Tbsp.
Pinch ground cinnamon
Juice from ½ lemon
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
12 Tbsp. cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
½ cup milk, plus 1 Tbsp.

Preheat oven to 400°F.

In a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate, combine blueberries, cornstarch, ½ cup sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice.  Stir well and cover with foil.  Place pie dish on rimmed baking sheet and bake until berries start to release their liquid, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, add flour, baking powder, and salt to the work bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine.  Add butter and pulse until the mixture forms a coarse meal, about 15 seconds.  Dump mixture into bowl and add ½ cup milk.  Combine with fork until a scrappy dough ball forms.  Turn onto counter and knead briefly.  Press into a disk about ½-inch thick.  With a biscuit cutter, cut into a dozen or so shapes, enough to cover the cobbler (recombine the scraps to make extra biscuits).

After 15 minutes, remove blueberries from oven, uncover, and stir.  Arrange biscuits on top, brush with 1 Tbsp. milk, and sprinkle with remaining 1 Tbsp. sugar.  Bake uncovered until biscuits are golden brown, 25-30 minutes more.  Cool 10 minutes before serving.  Don’t forget the ice cream.  Vanilla.  Bean.

Source: Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated (specifically, Kay Rentschler).

My Kind of Salad

This is just me trying to make my salad look as much like dessert as possible.  And, you know, it worked.  I ate almost the entire head of lettuce myself. 

Only one more head to go.

 

Salad with Cherries and Queso Fresco

1 head Boston lettuce, washed, dried, leaves torn
10 cherries, pitted, halved
2 Tbsp. sliced almonds
4 oz. Salvadoran fresh cheese (or whatever), crumbled
1½ tsp. balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Toast almonds in a dry frying pan over medium heat for a few minutes until fragrant, but not burnt fragrant.  Toss lettuce, cherries, almonds, and cheese in salad bowl.  Pour balsamic vinegar into a small bowl and whisk in olive oil until emulsified (meaning mixed up real good).  Add dressing to salad and toss with salt and a healthy grind of black pepper.

The Mother of All Popsicles

When my Mother’s Day present finally arrived (which was an unsplattered, perfectly uncreased copy of The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz), I sat down with my kids and talked to them about ice cream. 

They already knew about ice cream, of course.  There had been some “experimentation” in recent years.  They’d heard their friends talk about it.  They know that the ice cream man shows up at the park at exactly quarter-of- dinnertime and they’re the only ones who aren’t getting any. 

But what they didn’t know is that Mommy has an ice cream maker.  And that if all went well, they’d be getting homemade Creamsicles that very night.  They just stared at me blankly, so I dumbed it down.  Orange popsicles, kids.  They’re popsicles.  (Cue yays and clapping.)

I pulled out the book and we went through it page by page.  I told my preschooler about all the different kinds of ice creams there were and the toppings (oh, the toppings) that the ice cream man doesn’t know how to make.  I showed my toddler all the pictures, which he then proceeded to lick.  Okay, that was me.  But, I emphasized that this was a secret book.  And only good boys who eat their dinner get to learn the secrets of secret ice cream. 

Then came the question I was dreading.  About balls.  Malted milk balls, and the ice cream that can be made with them.  I slammed the book shut and said that was for Mommy.  No one else but Mommy.  No more questions.

 

Orange Popsicle Ice Cream
This is even better than the Creamsicles I remember because it tastes like actual oranges.  The preschooler declared it to be “the best popsicle ever.”

2/3 cup sugar
Grated zest of 3 oranges
1¼ cups freshly squeezed orange juice (from 3-5 oranges)
1 cup sour cream
½ cup half-and-half
2 tsp. Grand Marnier

In a blender, pulverize the sugar and orange zest until the zest is very fine.  Add the orange juice, sour cream, half-and-half, and Grand Marnier, and blend until the sugar is completely dissolved.  Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.  (If desired, pour into ice cream bar molds, insert popsicle sticks, and freeze.)

Source: From The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz.  Used with permission.