FOOD ON THE FOOD

Garlicky Green Beans

Following up on my Mother's Day post, here's a recipe for garlicky green beans similar to the ones we had at Mulan. We love the basic recipe, but there are lots of variations, too. You can add 1 tablespoon of chopped scallions and/or minced fresh ginger. You can add a splash of toasted sesame oil and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Or you can heat things up with a half teaspoon of sriracha or some sliced fresh chilies. It's all good.

Garlicky Green Beans    

The kids used to hate green beans prepared this way, but now they love them. Huzzah!

1 pound green beans or Chinese long beans, trimmed, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon hoisin sauce (or honey)
1 tablespoon rice wine or white wine (or water)
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
Pinch of kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large wok or skillet over medium-high heat, and sauté the green beans, tossing occasionally, for about 7 minutes or until they blister and brown in places but are still crisp-tender, not mushy. Remove the green beans to a plate.

In a separate small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, hoisin sauce, and rice wine. Set aside. Add the garlic to the hot pan and stir-fry for about 20 seconds until fragrant but not browning. Add the beans and sauce, and stir until heated through and the sauce reduces to a thick glaze, 1 to 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and black pepper.

Parsnip Soup and Righteous Clichés

I have a milestone birthday coming up this year, like many of my friends. And as much as I'll be glad to reach it, I'm also bummed out about this whole aging thing.

You know what I'm talking about. Back in high school, everything is poised to get better. The braces will be pried off soon. The glasses can be traded in for contact lenses, maybe even the kind that turn your muddy eyes a cool shade of aquamarine like a mood ring. You're finally easing up on all the Aqua Net (step away from the can of hairspray, Tammy). The ugly duckling becomes a swan and all that crap. Meanwhile, you're making a little cash throwing together sandwiches on the weekends and you feel real smart with that diploma in your hand.

The world is yours for the taking!

In high school, you can't wait for college. In college, you look forward to getting out of college because all this studying is putting a damper on your social life. Plus, you want a fun job with a decent paycheck. You want a mode of transportation besides your own two feet. Dates at fancy restaurants. A place to live that's not a dump. Vacations. Soon you have some stuff, and you like your stuff, but you want something more. You want love. You want a family of your own. Then you get a family of your own and, for the whole first year, you can't believe what a horrible mistake you've made. No more dates at fancy restaurants. Your place becomes a dump. Vacations take on an entirely new and unwelcome meaning. Sometimes you wish you'd just stayed home.

But then you learn to stop being so selfish all the time and things gets better. Your family becomes your whole life. Does anyone else have kids as awesome as yours? NO WAY! IMPOSSIBLE! And then you realize something. Your kids are halfway through their childhood already. They're going to spend the whole second half hating you. And then they're going to leave.

They say you get better with age, but in what way specifically? Nicer? I don't think so. If anything, I'm getting more crotchety and even less charitable behind the wheel of a car. Wiser? Uh-uh. By my calculations, I'm getting stupider by the day. I've always been a wee bit forgetful, but this is ridiculous. I left my coat somewhere last week. At the library? At Walgreens? Where? How did I not notice my coat was missing? True, it felt colder, but all that ran through my head was: That's New England for you. One minute you're toasty warm in your nice winter jacket and the next minute you're shivering by the parking meters fumbling for change while the icy wind sucker punches you in the spleen and there's no logical explanation for it whatsoever. (I still haven't found it, by the way. My coat. It's puffy and gray with a big hood.)

The other night I looked in the mirror and realized that it's all downhill from here. This is as smart/healthy/attractive as I will ever be for the whole rest of my life. And, I'll be honest, the bar didn't seem very high.

Is this what a midlife crisis looks like?

Spring Parsnip Soup     

This recipe is stupefyingly simple. I don't even use stock anymore, just water. It's silky and surprisingly sweet. Snip a few chives on top and you have something tasty and healthful to warm you up on a chilly spring day when your coat is nowhere to be found.

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
3 cups water (or veggie stock)
1 pound parsnips, peeled, cored*, diced
Salt and pepper

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Sauté the chopped onion and celery for 4 to 5 minutes until soft and translucent. Don't let the vegetables brown. Add the garlic and sauté for 15 seconds until fragrant. Add the water or stock and the parsnips. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the parsnips are soft, 15 to 20 minutes. Let cool and purée in a blender or with a stick blender until perfectly smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Serves 2 or 3. The recipe can be doubled (just be sure to purée the soup in half-batches if using a blender).

*Some parsnips have a woody central core that runs from top to bottom. To remove it, I usually just slice the peeled sides right off the core, which is a slightly different color. (Then chop up the sides and discard the core.) But if you're not sure exactly where or how big the core is, you can also quarter the parsnip the long way. Then you can see it a lot better. Just trim along the interior edge of each quarter with a paring knife to remove it.

Springtime and Rhubarb Crisp

So far this spring, we've had very little in the way of April showers and lots in the way of freezing cold Arctic blasts that take your breath away. But I know you're coming, Spring. I know it because the snow piles have finally receded, exposing all the computer monitors that have been dumped in the woods behind our house, sun glinting off the screens at various times of day. I also know because the turkey vultures have returned to roost back there, as they do every year around this time, lured by rumors of carrion and free wifi.

But it's the appearance of rhubarb in the markets that truly announces warmer days ahead. Nothing says spring like weird pink vegetables. I made this ginger-laced rhubarb crisp for Easter weekend as the mercury inched past sixty degrees. The first real taste of spring!

I'm ready for more.


Rhubarb Ginger Crisp     

Bracing and bright, these two flavors were made for each other. You want fresh ginger here, not ground.

1-1/2 pounds rhubarb, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
1-1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt
4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Butter the inside of a 9-inch pie plate or 8x8-inch baking dish.

Combine the rhubarb, ginger and 1 cup of the sugar in the prepared dish. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingers (pinching the butter into smaller and smaller pieces) or using a pastry blender until the mixture resembles a coarse meal flecked with pea-sized pieces of butter (you can also do this in a food processor). Scatter the mixture over the rhubarb.

Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and the rhubarb juices are bubbly. Remove from the oven and let it cool slightly. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

Source: Adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews.

Eleven-Dollar Cauliflower

Last year, I went to a restaurant where they charged $11 for a tiny plate of cauliflower. Eleven dollars!

Now before you get all up in my grill, I'm not dissing cauliflower or any of the talented chefs that prepare it. Cauliflower is delicious, and why shouldn't it be trending right now? I know that restaurants have to factor in overhead when pricing appetizers, even inexpensive ones, but still. Eleven dollars? Next time there'd better be some caviar on that cauliflower!

If you too get so blinded by your love for cauliflower that you're tempted to pay exorbitant amounts of money for coaster-sized portions, here's a tip: make it at home. One way to prepare it is simply to roast it in a little olive oil. The secret is in the browning. No pale, waterlogged cauliflower here. Concentrating and caramelizing the sugars brings out the best flavor.

Once you learn how to make awesome cauliflower yourself, you can take those eleven dollars you just saved and spend them on something else on the menu, like a second cocktail or a fancy dessert you'd never make at home. Or a whole bushel of cauliflower at the cauliflower store!


Roasted Cauliflower     

I find it's better to cut the cauliflower into flat slices rather than lumpy florets so you have as much surface area in contact with the hot pan as possible for maximum browning. Cut the cauliflower into half-inch-thick slabs and cut the core out of the middle slices. They will naturally separate into bite-sized pieces while cooking.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cauliflower, sliced into 1/2-inch thick slabs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400° F. Coat a sheet pan with a thin film of olive oil and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. (You might need two pans depending on the size of your cauliflower.)

Lay the cauliflower in a single layer on the pan. No crowding. You don't want the pieces to sit too closely together or they'll steam more than roast. Drizzle with additional oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast the cauliflower on the bottom rack of the oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until the bottoms turn a golden shade of brown. Flip and cook 10 to 15 minutes more until the other side browns and the vegetables are tender but not mushy. Serve hot.

Making Bagels

It never once occurred to me to make my own bagels. Not until I picked up Jennifer Reese's book, Make the Bread, Buy the Butter. In the book, she outlines her advice for which foods are worth making yourself and which ones are better left to the professionals. I was surprised to find bagels in the "make yourself" category. I flagged the recipe for later.

Later never came.

But last week, Husband brought home some bagels from the grocery store and they were god-awful: chalky with an unpleasant flavor. Even I can do better than that, I declared out loud, not sure if I really could but knowing that you have to talk tough if you're going to show your below-average bagel who's boss. I pulled out Reese's book and flipped to the bagel section with an overly dramatic flourish.

Here's what I learned. Making bagels is just like making bread except you boil the dough rings for a few minutes before baking them to a golden brown. (I had no idea you boiled bagels.) The toppings, if you want them, go on after the boiling part (duh) but before the baking (aha!). Otherwise they won't stick. I found it hard to get the dough rings perfectly round. I tried forming the dough into a ball and poking my thumbs through the center as well as rolling the dough into a thick rope and joining the ends. Results were mixed. Most of them came out charmingly misshapen, but, boy, were they delicious, especially warm right out of the oven. They're fun to make, too, all speckled with various toppings.

So, do I agree with the author that homemade bagels are worth the work? If you don't live in New York City, then yes, absolutely. If you do live in NYC, let's face it, you're going to be comparing them to your favorite hallowed bagel place the whole time and nothing will ever live up (and even if they do, you won't admit it). Don't bother. For the rest of us, though, here's your next Sunday morning project!

 

Totally Delicious Homemade Bagels      

Husband sure picked the wrong week to go back on the South Beach Diet. :(

3-1/2 cups high-gluten or bread flour (I used 4 cups all-purpose flour)
1-1/2 Tbsp. instant yeast (I used active dry and it worked fine)
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. kosher salt
1-1/2 cups water or warm whey from making yogurt or cheese
2 Tbsp. barley malt syrup or brown sugar (I used date honey)
Coarse cornmeal for sprinkling
Optional toppings: poppy seeds, sesame seeds, coarse salt, caraway seeds, dried minced onion, dried minced garlic

In the bowl of a mixer, combine the flour, yeast, sugar, and salt. Add the water or whey and beat hard with the paddle for a few minutes until it comes together into a stiff dough (add a little more flour if necessary). At this point, either switch to the dough hook at your own risk (I busted my KitchenAid this way once) or knead the dough by hand on a floured counter for 5 to 10 minutes until the dough is smooth, supple, and spankable (my words—don't blame the author for my colorful descriptors). Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a clean, damp dishtowel, and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. While the water is heating, sprinkle a rimmed baking sheet generously with cornmeal (use more than you think or the bagels will fuse to the pan). Lightly grease a second pan.

Punch down the dough with floured fists and divide it into 10 more-or-less equal pieces. Roll each piece into the neatest, roundest ball you can and then, with your thumb, poke a hole in the middle and coax the dough into a bagel shape. Alternatively, you can roll the dough into a thick rope and then join the slightly overlapping ends with a little water. Set the bagels on the lightly greased sheet to rest for 10 minutes.

When the water comes to a rolling boil, add the malt syrup (or brown sugar). Drop the bagels into the water three at a time. Let them simmer for a minute, then flip them over and simmer one minute more. Remove them with a slotted spoon, return to the oiled pan to dry a bit, and repeat with the remaining dough. Transfer all of the bagels to the cornmeal-coated pan and sprinkle on your toppings, if desired.

Bake the bagels for 25 to 35 minutes until golden brown. Store them in a paper bag at room temperature for a few days, or freeze, tightly wrapped, for longer storage. If you end up with some stale bagels, you can always make bagel chips (which are also great in salads and panzanellas).    

Source: Adapted from Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese who got it from The New Complete Book of Breads by Bernard Clayton, who adapted it from the erstwhile Jewish restaurant in Paris, Jo Goldenberg's.

Goat Cheese Ice Cream

I love the public library for many reasons, one of which is free access to a huge collection of cookbooks. I take great pleasure in parasitizing old and new releases alike, serendipitously latching onto a select few food titles and not letting go. Sometimes they're not exactly what I expected once I get them home, but other times, they're so much more.

Such was Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking. I have a soft spot for Spain, having spent a formative period of my life exploring its less famous corners. The food in this cookbook is not necessarily the food I remember. It's more the style of the food that strikes me now, so in tune it is with the seasons and the local bounty. Not everything appeals to me (Cold octopus terrine? No, thank you.), but much of it does. White beans with wild mushrooms. Shrimp fritters. Simple tomato salad. Quince pies with ricotta and honey. I ended up flagging so many pages that I finally made Husband buy it for me for Valentine's Day (nothing spells love like a list of demands).

Last week, I made the goat cheese ice cream (helado de queso de cabra). I spooned some dried cherries soaked in anisette over the smooth, rich custard. Whoa. This ain't ice cream cone material. Save it for something special. One small scoop in a fancy bowl with a spoonful of cherries is all you need. Amazing!


Goat Cheese Ice Cream with Dried Cherries and Anisette     

The original recipe called for fresh cherries, but, since they're out of season at the moment, I substituted dried tart cherries and macerated them in anisette. It's lovely, but if you're not fond of anisette's licorice flavor, feel free to substitute brandy, red wine, or water.

5 large egg yolks
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 1/2 cups heavy cream
8 oz. soft goat cheese, crumbled
3 oz. dried cherries
4 oz. anisette

In a large bowl, mix the egg yolks and sugar until combined. (Save the leftover egg whites in the freezer for macaroons or pavlovas.)

Pour the cream into a small saucepan and heat it over medium heat. As soon as it comes to a boil, remove the pan from the heat. Gradually whisk about 1/2 cup of the hot cream into the egg mixture to temper the eggs and prevent them from scrambling. Slowly whisk the egg mixture into the pot of cream. Heat the mixture over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until it thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon. Do not let it boil. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the goat cheese. Let cool completely. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Pour into a container and freeze until scoopable, 6 to 8 hours.

For the cherry topping, simmer the dried cherries in the anisette in a small saucepan for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the cherries are soft and the liquid is reduced to a syrup. Remove from the heat and chill until cold. (I like the resulting subtle anise flavor, but for a stronger hit, add a splash of anisette off the heat.) Serve a scoop of ice cream with a tablespoon or two of cherries and syrup drizzled over the top.

Source: Adapted from Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking by Frank Camorra and Richard Cornish

Local Ingredients:
Goat cheese: Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery, Websterville, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA

Banoffee Parfaits

A few years back, I featured a recipe for banoffee pie. For those unfamiliar, banoffee pie is an amazing—and amazingly simple—combination of bananas, whipped cream, and dulce de leche (milk caramel) that everyone should try. However, I'm pretty sure nobody made the pie.

Show of hands: who made the pie?

See? Nobody.

So today, I'm offering you an even easier way to make this pie—by removing the pie aspect altogether and layering the filling components inside mason jars or wine glasses or whatever containers you happen to have at hand.

Since I got rid of the graham cracker crust, I inserted little Swedish ginger cookies between the layers (delicious!), but you could also use actual graham crackers, digestive biscuits, or Maria cookies. Break them up if you have to. You can buy dulce de leche already made in little cans in the Latin American section of the supermarket (you'll want to heat it up a little to loosen it slightly), or you can make your own by boiling the hell out of a can of condensed milk (remove the label, boil the can for 3 hours making sure the water level never falls below the top of the can, and let it cool completely before opening). If you're local, Fat Toad Farm in Vermont makes a killer cajeta (dulce de leche made from goat's milk). Russo's stocks it sometimes.

Then, slice some bananas thickly. Whip some cream (no sugar required, though a dribble of vanilla never hurts). Layer it all together and top it with chocolate shavings, a dusting of cocoa, or chopped pecans.

It's delicious and easy. Husband ate two.

Drinking to 2013

I'm due at a party in 10 minutes, but I wanted to leave you with a cocktail to ring in the new year. I first tried the Left Bank Martini at Abigail's, and I've been making it at home ever since. It's slightly floral from the elderflower liqueur, but it's not too sweet and never weak. I like it.

Keep this in your pocket for a special day in 2013, whenever that may strike.

Happy New Year!


Left Bank Martini

I like an extra splash of wine in mine.

1.5 parts gin
1 part St Germain (elderflower liqueur)
1 part Sauvignon Blanc

Shake with ice and serve in chilled glasses.

Magic

What was I up to this week besides being sad? Stuffing myself senseless with magic bars, that's what. I did a little Christmas shopping, too, in between binges (plenty of time for resolutions later). But what I didn't do were my Christmas cards. At this point, they'll never arrive on time even if Rudolph himself delivers them, so if you're wondering where yours is, that's where.

I'm rerunning this recipe for magic bars because I'm still not in a writing sort of mood, plus I've adjusted the recipe slightly since my original post five years ago. More people know these as magic bars, but I will always call them seven-layer cookies because that's what Nonni called them when she made them for Christmas every year. Whatever you call them, they continue to be a favorite, and who couldn't use a little more magic in their lives.

Magic Bars (or Seven-Layer Cookies) (print-friendly version)

This is probably the easiest cookie recipe there is, perfect for bake sales and gifts.

1-1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (or 14 whole graham crackers crushed)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
12-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips
12-ounce package butterscotch chips
2 cups walnut halves
2 cups shredded sweetened coconut
14-ounce can condensed milk

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 9x13-inch pan.

Mix the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter and press onto the bottom of the pan. Pour the chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and walnuts on top, distributing evenly. Sprinkle the coconut over the top. Drizzle the condensed milk evenly over everything.

Bake about 20 minutes, until some of the coconut develops toasty tips and the condensed milk along the edges starts to caramelize. Cut the hot cookies into squares no bigger than an inch and a half (they're very sweet), which will allow for easier cutting later. Let cool completely and refrigerate until ready to serve. Recut along the lines.

Simple Roast Chicken

I tell you, one of the best parts of eating from local farms is the chicken. The chicken is amazing. It's pricey, to be sure—all that grassy real estate is going to cost you—but worth every penny with its amazing flavor, incredible moistness, and crispy skin.

Roasting is the easiest thing to do with chicken, so I do it often, especially in the fall. And, what do you know, fall is here. What a coincidence! Here's what I do and it works every time.

Simple Roast Chicken (print-friendly version)

Five minutes of work, one hour in the oven, and you're done. You can easily roast root vegetables alongside the bird so they baste in the delicious chicken fat. Yum. Just cut them into 1-inch chunks and stir them around a few times during cooking. Be sure to save the chicken carcass to make stock or the best chicken noodle soup you've ever had in your life. Wrapped up tight, you can freeze chicken bones for up to a year.

1 3- to 4-pound chicken, giblets removed, rinsed, patted dry
1 lemon, washed, dried, quartered
3 to 4 garlic cloves, peeled or unpeeled
Several sprigs of fresh thyme or rosemary
Olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C).

Rinse the chicken and pat it dry very well. Set it in a large roasting pan. Salt the cavity and stuff it with the lemon quarters, garlic cloves, and herbs. Rub the skin with olive oil and season generously with coarse salt and pepper. Truss the bird with kitchen string so it retains its shape while cooking. This doesn't have to be anything fancy, you just want the wings tucked close to the body so they don't dry out and the legs bundled together over the breast. For my way of trussing, see below.

Roast the chicken in the upper part of the oven for about an hour. You want the breast fairly close to the top of the oven (within 3 or 4 inches) so the radiant heat helps the skin achieve maximum crispiness. Cook until the juices run clear when you pierce the thigh with a knife, or when a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh (without touching the bone) registers 170°F (77°C). Depending on your oven and your chicken, it could take as little as 45 minutes or as long as an hour and 15 minutes. Pay attention to your bird, not the clock.

Let the chicken rest 10 to 15 minutes if you can. This will help keep the juices inside the meat instead of running all over the cutting board. It will also help keep you from burning all the skin off your fingers as you try to section a burning hot chicken with your bare hands. As you can tell from my vivid descriptions, I rarely let the bird rest long enough. Meanwhile, pour the pan drippings into a measuring cup or jam jar and let them sit undisturbed for a few minutes. Then you can easily spoon the fatty top layer off the drippings and discard. What remains is a light but flavorful jus I like to serve at the table. I actually prefer this over gravy. See below for how to carve a chicken, and then serve it up!

[To truss: This is how I do it, which is not the "proper" way, but I care not. It works for me. I cut two arms' length of kitchen string (my arms are short, you may need less). Find the center of the string and place it under the back of the chicken behind the wings. Bring each side of the string up and around the first joint of the wing to encircle it. Pull the string taut as you bring it southward along the creases between the legs and the breasts. The wings should be laying flat against the breasts. Now cross the strings underneath the chicken under what looks like the tail. You should now have the opposite ends of the strings in your hands. Wrap them around the ends of the drumsticks and then tie them together tightly. Knot the string and trim the excess.]

[To carve: Remove the kitchen string. Separate the wings by grabbing the base where they meet the breast and bending at a sharp angle until the joint pops. Then slice through the skin. For the legs, slice down into the crease between the legs and the breast. The light and dark meat are naturally separated here. Bend back the leg in a somewhat unnatural angle until the thigh joint pops, then slice through the remaining meat and skin. The leg can now be cut through the joint where the drumstick and thigh meet (fancy restaurants like to keep them together). For the breast, slice straight down the middle along the vertical breastbone and then follow the angle of the rib cage. It's a guessing game the first time you do this, but then you learn the contours. Be sure to save the carcass for chicken soup. It's soooo good.]

Local Ingredients:
Chicken: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread

If your Thanksgiving menu is not yet firm, and even if it is, here's something else to consider for the dessert table: moist, spicy gingerbread cake with a sticky layer of cranberries on the bottom.

Sound tempting? It's from Melissa Clark's newest book, Cook This Now. I thought the title of her book was a little presumptuous at first. Now, Melissa? Right now?? I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas, and I need to go to the store! But I'm very glad I didn't wait. I loved every bite. The bourbon-spiked whipped cream didn't hurt, either.

Here's my advice: stock up on in-season cranberries right now while they're at their peak, and store the bags in the freezer. Then you can make sticky cranberry gingerbread anytime during the holidays, not to mention delicious pancakes and muffins all winter long!


Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread (print-friendly version)

The recipe calls for golden syrup, which is a sugar-processing byproduct similar to molasses, but lighter. It's more of a British thing. I didn't have any golden syrup handy (and neither did my local grocers), so I planned to sub in honey or sugar, come what may. That is, until I remembered the jar of date syrup my friend brought me back from Israel (also called date honey). I used that instead and it was wonderful! You won't be able to find that, either, probably, but I see no reason why regular honey or just sugar wouldn't work. Follow your own instincts.

2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries (8 ounces)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup golden syrup (or date syrup, honey, or sugar)
1-1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon grated fresh gingerroot

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an 8x8- or 9x9-inch square baking pan generously. Line the bottom with parchment paper.

In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, stir together the cranberries, granulated sugar, and water. Stir the slushy mixture over medium heat until the sugar is completely dissolved and the cranberries form a sauce that is syrupy and bubbling thickly, 8 to 10 minutes. Aim to have about half of the cranberries broken down, with the remainder more or less whole. Remove from the heat and set aside.

In a separate small saucepan, combine the butter, brown sugar, milk, molasses, and golden syrup over medium heat. Stir until the butter has melted and the mixture comes to a bare simmer, and then remove it from the heat. Don't let it boil or the mixture could curdle.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, ground ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and black pepper. Beat in the butter-molasses mixture, and then beat in the eggs. Stir in the grated gingerroot.

Pour the batter into the pan. Drop fat dollops of cranberry sauce onto the surface of the batter. Drag a long, slender knife through the batter in a swirly design, as if you are marbling a cake. Transfer the cake to the oven and bake until the top is firm and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 50 to 55 minutes. Let cool completely on a wire rack before serving.

Source: Adapted minimally from Cook This Now by Melissa Clark.

Local Ingredients:
Cranberries: Willows Cranberries, Wareham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Milk: Stonyfield Farms, Londonderry, NH

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust

The temperature is dropping, my fridge is full of root vegetables, my counters piled high with squash: it's about time I shared with you my new favorite fall dish!

I'm calling it a cobbler, because I'm still in dessert mode, but it's basically a vegetarian pot pie or savory casserole. Tender chunks of autumn vegetables scented with tomato, garlic, and marjoram are topped with a cheddar biscuit crust. I used carrots, celery root, and acorn squash, but you could sub in a parsnip or two for some of the carrots, and use any other kind of winter squash you like. This recipe is based on one from Bistro Cooking at Home, a book written by Boston's own Gordon Hamersley. I had many a fine meal at Hamersley's Bistro back in the day when I wrote the food column for the South End News. Since then, this book has allowed me to engage in a little fine dining without having to pay for a babysitter or try to remember where the hell to park (reminder to self: NOT on Washington Street).

Anyway, this dish isn't fussy, but it does require a fair amount of cooking time to get those veggies to be so meltingly tender. Plan accordingly. I've had several requests for the recipe at a recent dinner party, so here it is.

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust (print-friendly version)

Don't be alarmed by the amount of liquid you add to the vegetables. It looks like too much, but it's not. Trust me, it will absorb and thicken into a lovely gravy-like sauce. I think fresh marjoram is absolutely perfect here, but you could also use fresh thyme or a teaspoon or so of dried marjoram, thyme, or oregano. 

Filling
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 red onion, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch rounds
1 medium celery root, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 acorn squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 cups water (or veggie or chicken stock)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Topping
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 to 1-1/3 cups heavy cream
1-1/2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic
Pinch of coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 cup grated sharp Cheddar cheese (not shredded--you want small flecks)

Heat the oven to 400°F. In a large sauté pan, heat half of the oil and half of the butter over medium-high heat. Add the onions, carrots, and celery root, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are browned, about 7 minutes. Transfer the cooked vegetables to a 13x9-inch casserole dish or roasting pan. Melt the rest of the oil and butter in the hot skillet. Add the acorn squash and sauté until lightly browned, about 7 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for another couple of minutes, then add to the casserole dish.

Increase the heat to high and add the white wine, tomato paste, and water (or stock) to the sauté pan. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan, lower the heat, and simmer for about 3 minutes. Add this liquid to the casserole, sprinkle with marjoram, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover with aluminum foil and bake until the vegetables are just tender, about 30 minutes.

While the vegetables are baking, make the topping. In a food processor, whiz together the flour, salt, and baking powder until combined. Add the butter cubes and pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal (20 to 30 pulses). Empty the contents into a bowl and stir in 1 cup of cream, garlic, and pepper. If the mixture is too dry, add more cream. Mix in the grated cheese just until it holds together. Let rest. (You can also make the biscuits by hand, cutting in the butter with two knives or a pastry cutter.)

Remove the veggies from the oven and take off the foil. Using a large spoon, dot the surface of the vegetables with Ping-Pong ball-sized dollops of biscuit dough. The topping should be lumpy and bumpy. Return the casserole to the upper third of the oven and bake, uncovered, until the topping is cooked and browned, about 25 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before serving.

Source: Adapted from Bistro Cooking at Home by Gordon Hamersley and Joanne McAllister Smart.

Local Ingredients:
Onion, carrots, celery root, squash, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter, cheddar: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Marjoram: My plant that I somehow managed not to kill this year

Pumpkin Cupcakes for Halloween

I guess there's some kind of storm coming, so I've been advised to get my Halloween post up before the power goes out and/or any one of these dead trees falls on my house. I don't know what the big deal is. As long as the winds don't go much above 20 mph, it should be fine. No problemo.

Here's a recipe for pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that you may decorate in whatever ghoulish fashion you might envision. I'm sure one of you is good at making jack o'lantern faces out of icing or what have you, but I am not. Bad things happen when I try to be creative. You'll just have to use your imagination. Keep me out of it!

But the cupcakes themselves are very, very tasty. Suffice it to say that a power outage is the only way I won't be making these again in the next 48 hours.


Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting (print-friendly version)

This is my neighbor's pumpkin bread recipe paired with the cream cheese frosting I normally reserve for carrot cake. This recipe makes about 16 cupcakes or one 9-inch cake (double the recipe for a stacked cake).

Batter
1-2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
2 large eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree (fresh or canned)
2 tablespoons water

Frosting
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature (not light or whipped)
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2-1/4 cups confectioner’s sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a standard muffin tin with wrappers.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. In another medium bowl, mix the sugar, canola oil, eggs, pumpkin puree, and water until well combined. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir well. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins until about 2/3 full. Bake about 20 minutes, or until the middles rise and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool to room temperature.

To make the frosting, whip together the softened butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer. Sift the confectioner’s sugar into a medium bowl (sifting is very important to prevent lumps). Add half of the confectioner’s sugar and mix until smooth, starting at low speed so that the sugar doesn’t fly everywhere and then gradually increasing speed. Mix in the rest of the confectioner’s sugar. Frost the cooled cupcakes, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Note: Bring on the fresh pumpkin if you have it (sugar pumpkins or long pumpkins are best). Cut in half, scoop out the seeds, and bake at 375°F cut-side-down on a rimmed baking sheet for 45 minutes to an hour. Scoop the tender flesh out of its skin and puree in a food processor for about a minute. Set the pulp in a fine-mesh strainer to drain for an hour before using. (You can substitute squash, too!)

Coleslaw: Deconstructing My Pulled Pork Sandwich

Now that you have my recipe for pulled pork, let's sliiiide that bun over and talk about the coleslaw. Because you're probably getting lots of cabbage in your CSA shares right about now. You know you are!

Husband loves coleslaw, specifically my coleslaw. It's one of the reasons he keeps me around. For my part, I put up with him because of his tremendous dishwashing skills and the fact that he eats my coleslaw. That's not something every guy likes, you know? Coleslaw and piles of dirty dishes? My prince!

Coleslaw (print-friendly version)

In reality, I eyeball all the measurements, and it comes out slightly differently each time but always good.

1 pound cabbage, red or green, cored, shredded
1 carrot, peeled, grated
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup mayo
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
Kosher salt
Lots and lots of freshly ground black pepper

Set the shredded cabbage in a colander set over a plate, and sprinkle it all over with about 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. Let it sit for an hour or two to wilt. The cabbage will become increasingly wet as it releases its liquid. I like to gently squeeze it dry a bit with a towel as I transfer it to a bowl, fistful by fistful. Having the veggies not be sopping wet helps the dressing cling better instead of sliding off into the bottom of the bowl. Squeeze the shredded carrot over the sink and then add to the cabbage.

In a small bowl, whisk the mayo with the vinegar. Add lots of black pepper, but hold off on the salt for now. You may not need much or any. Toss the vegetables with the dressing. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary. Let chill in the refrigerator. Stir again just before serving.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Labor Day Pulled Pork

Okay, people, I've been wanting to share this recipe with you for years, and I can't wait any longer! I had hoped to get better at barbecuing first. I've been waiting and waiting until I could competently maintain low, smoldering coals for six hours at a time without letting the fire go out. But it always goes out. Then I overcompensate by building a flaming inferno that rages on seemingly forever, until I grow bored and start doing something else, and then the fire goes out again. It would seem I don't have enough stamina for the slow-burning fire marathon that is southern barbecue. I can get the coals really, really hot or really, really cold. There is no in-between.

Cue crockpot!

I was skeptical the first time I made pulled pork in a slow cooker. Wouldn't it be a shadow of its barbecued self? But you know what? It's great! It's fantastic! On a scale of 1 to 100, awesome minus 2 is still awesome! Yes, it's not as wood-smoky as it otherwise would be. I added a little smoked paprika to the spice rub to help out with that. Yes, it still takes a looong time to cook, but you don't have to DO anything. No coals to tend, nothing. It cooks all day while the cook's away/at play/on the bidet.

This time, I cooked up two pork roasts at the same time. I knew we'd eat it all and we did. The 9YO is over the moon for this stuff, and ate three big piles of pulled pork after deciding the roll was interfering with the full meat experience. Then he threatened to sneak downstairs at midnight and eat some more. He won't get too far, though, because my money's on Husband to beat him there, hiding in a dark corner of the dark kitchen, hissing, eyes aglow like a startled raccoon. Me, I won't try to compete. I can eat all the pulled pork I want in my dreams and never have to leave the bed!

So, it's up to you this Labor Day if you want to cue up the BBQ and do some actual labor or cue up the crockpot and labor ironically. Either way, you're in for some good eating!

Cheater's North Carolina-Style Pulled Pork (print-friendly version)

Start the night before by applying the dry rub and shaking together the barbecue sauce for best results. However, I've thrown it all together that morning and it still comes out great. I'm partial to the vinegar-based barbecue sauce for which North Carolina is known, but if you have your own favorite sauce, feel free to sub it in. Serve on a roll with coleslaw!

Sauce
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup white vinegar
2 teaspoons light brown sugar
1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Rub
1 tablespoon paprika (I like to go half and half with sweet and smoked paprika)
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1/2 tablespoon black pepper
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne
3- to 5-pound pork shoulder or Boston butt, bone in or out
1 tablespoon vegetable oil (optional)

Shake together all the sauce ingredients in a mason jar until the salt dissolves. Refrigerate.

Mix all the spices together in a small bowl. Dry off the meat with paper towels and rub the spice mixture all over. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. If you don't have that kind of time, proceed to the next step.

In a large Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pan, heat the oil until hot. Brown the meat on all sides to get a tasty outer crust. Again, if you're in a hurry, you can skip this step. (It does make it better, though.)

Transfer the meat to a slow cooker. Pour about 1/2 cup of the barbecue sauce over the meat. Cover and cook 4 to 6 hours on high or 8 to 10 hours on low. The meat should be very tender when poked. Remove it to a cutting board. Pour the liquid in the slow-cooker into a measuring cup and let it sit undisturbed. Shred the meat with a fork, pulling it apart and place it in a large bowl. Pour off the fat from the top of the liquid in the measuring cup, and reserve the dark sauce below. Pour a few tablespoons of the dark sauce over the meat and toss (not too much, as it can be salty from the rub).

Make sandwiches by piling pulled pork onto bulky rolls, dressing with the remaining barbecue sauce or more of the brown pan drippings, and topping with homemade coleslaw.

The Barbecue Method

If you want to try your hand with the barbecue, here are my notes. This should work, theoretically, if you're diligent about adding enough coals every hour. It does take some practice, but if the fire does go out, just throw it in the slow cooker on high and call it a day!

Soak 4 cups of wood chips in water for 30 minutes (I use hickory). Preheat the grill (I use a chimney starter filled 3/4 of the way up with charcoal, bottom stuffed with newspaper, and lit from underneath with a match). Once the coals are ashy (about 20 minutes), dump them onto the bottom grate on one side of the grill. Place the cover on the grill, poke a thermometer through one of the holes in the vent, and close the vent a bit to get the temperature down to 300°F. Once there, add some soaked wood chips to the coals and replace the top grate.

Add the meat to the grill on the opposite side as the coals. Try to maintain a grill temperature between 200° and 225°F. Don't let the fire go out (haha, have fun with that!). To get the temperature higher, open the vent more. To get the temperature lower, close the vent more. Every hour, add 10 or so more coals and another handful of wood chips (grill grates often have hinges that allow you to lift up one side to add more coals/chips). Baste the meat with barbecue sauce and replace the cover immediately. Smoke 5 to 6 hours. When the meat is tender and nearly falling apart (an internal temperature of 190° to 195°F), remove the meat from the grill. Let rest. Shred the pork.

Local Ingredients:
Pork: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA

Chocolate-Covered Strawberry Ice Cream

Do you guys remember that chocolate sauce you pour over ice cream that hardens into a crisp, chocolatey shell? Did your parents let you have that when you were kids? Yeah, me neither. But guess what? I just made some! My lost youth has been resurrected!

I was flipping through Bon Appetít at our friend's lake house in New York two weeks ago, and there was a recipe for just such a topping. It's very simple: just melted chocolate and coconut oil. When the sauce hits the ice cream, the cold temperature causes all of the saturated fats to solidify into a chocolate shell. Yay, saturated fats!

I had a pint of ratty-looking strawberries in the fridge, so I made some strawberry ice cream to go along with it. Who doesn't like chocolate-covered strawberries, right? Well, in ice cream cone form, it makes for some messy eating so be warned. The shell slips around as you try to crack it with your teeth, and meanwhile the ice cream melts underneath it creating a drippy mess. Best to send the kids outside and hose them down afterwards. For myself, I preferred to scoop some ice cream into a dish, drizzle the sauce on top, and, once hardened, crack it with a spoon.

Because one must always use spoons when reliving one's youth. Spoons and napkins!


Strawberry Ice Cream (print-friendly version)

If you don't like raw eggs in your ice cream, just leave them out. Swear to god.

1 pint fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/3 cup granulated sugar, plus 3/4 cup
Juice of 1/2 lemon
2 large eggs
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk

Combine the strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour. Pulse the mixture briefly in a blender until it forms a chunky puree.

Whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar, a little at a time, then whisk 1 minute more. Pour in the cream, milk, and strawberry puree. Whisk 1 to 2 minutes until the sugar is dissolved. Pour into an ice cream machine and follow the manufacturer's instructions, usually spin for 25 minutes. Transfer to a container and freeze until scoopable.

Source: Adapted from Ben and Jerry's Homemade Ice Cream & Dessert Book by Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield


Magic Chocolate Shell (print-friendly version)

I used cold-pressed, unrefined coconut oil, which lent a subtle coconut flavor to the shell. However, if you want your chocolate untainted by coconut essence, try organic refined coconut oil, which has a more neutral flavor. This makes enough for 4 to 6 servings.

6 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (chopped or chips)
3 tablespoons coconut oil

Combine the chocolate and coconut oil in a medium metal bowl. Set over a medium saucepan of simmering water. Stir until the chocolate is almost melted. Remove from heat and continue stirring until the mixture is completely smooth. Let cool 10 to 15 minutes so it doesn't melt your ice cream.

Drizzle chocolate over bowls of ice cream. Or quickly dip ice cream cones into the mixture, sprinkle with chopped nuts if desired, set upright in a glass, and freeze 10 minutes until hard.

Source: Adapted from Bon Appetít and Jeni Britton Bauer of Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams in Columbus, Ohio

Indian Cauliflower and Potatoes

Here's another Indian vegetable recipe we make a lot, and one of my faaaavorite ways to eat cauliflower. I posted about this six years ago, but there was no photo and little in the way of a charming introduction. At least now there's a photo!


Indian Cauliflower and Potatoes (Aloo Gobi) (print-friendly version)

Again, use your discretion with the cayenne. Add more if you like things spicy, or scale it back to a pinch if you're scared.

2 to 3 medium potatoes
1 medium cauliflower
3 Tbsp. canola oil
1 onion, chopped
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne
1 tsp. salt
Black pepper

Boil the potatoes in their jackets until tender when pierced with a knife. Cut the cauliflower into florets about 1½-inches wide. Soak them in a bowl of water for 30 minutes.  Drain.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into ¾-inch dice. In a large, non-stick frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat. Fry the onion until translucent, stirring occasionally, 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the cumin seeds and sauté for about a minute. Add the cauliflower and stir until it starts to brown in spots, about 5 minutes. Cover, turn the heat to low, and simmer until cauliflower is almost done, but still has a bit of crispness (8 to 12 minutes). Add the diced potatoes and the rest of the spices, and gently stir. Cook uncovered over low heat until potatoes are heated through, about 5 minutes more.

Source: Adapted from Illustrated Indian Cookery by Madhur Jaffrey

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage

When I went through and categorized all of the recipes on this site a few months ago, I was shocked—shocked, I say—to discover that the Indian category was so empty. I mean, we're not having Indian food every night, but there are definitely a few dishes that come up over and over in the rotation (if you can call my whim-based menu-planning a rotation). Vikram Vij's goat curry is one I want to post about in the cooler months because it is completely unbelievable, as well as a variation on Madhur Jaffrey's lamb korma, another personal favorite.

But today we're talking about cabbage. Because sometimes I get sick of coleslaw. Sometimes I just want something different, and the only way to make any serious headway through the piles and piles of shredded cabbage is to cook it down quickly with garlic and Indian spices until it's so fricking delicious, you just eat it like candy. And I haven't even gotten to the health benefits, which include, but are not limited to, cancer prevention and inflammation reduction. But that's not really why I eat it. I eat it because it's delicious. The rest is a perk.

This dish only takes 5 minutes on the range so it won't heat up the house too much. Serve it with chana masala (chick pea curry) with brown or basmati rice, and you've got yourself a meal!

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage (print-friendly version)

Adjust the cayenne to your liking. The original recipe called for something like 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne, but that's too much for me, never mind the kids. But do put in at least a pinch.

2 Tbsp. canola oil
1/2 tsp. mustard seeds
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 lb. green cabbage, thinly sliced (about 1/2 head)
2 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed with the side of a knife
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne

Heat the oil in a large frying pan or wok over high heat. When super-hot, add the mustard seeds and cover with a splatter screen or lid to keep the seeds from flying out. When the seeds stop sputtering, add the turmeric, cabbage, garlic, salt, and cayenne. Toss well. Stir-fry until the cabbage is crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes.

Source: Adapted from 5 Spices, 50 Dishes by Ruta Kahate.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Bulgur Salad with Chard and Olives

I cannot get enough of this salad! Basically, it's tabbouli, the Middle Eastern grain salad with fresh herbs and tomatoes, but with other stuff subbed in for the tomatoes, like Swiss chard and olives. Lots of parsley and cilantro combined with a generous shot of lemon keep the flavors bright. It's good for picnics, barbecues, or hasty lunches out of a Tupperware container at work. Next week, consider switching out the chard and olives for grilled zucchini, pattypan squash, and dare I hope for eggplant? Too soon? Only the hot July sun knows for sure. Then, in August and September, it's tomato time. Wait your turn, tomatoes. You're not the only game in town!


Bulgur Salad with Chard and Olives (print-friendly version)

This recipe makes a lot, at least 8 servings, so I hope you're hungry!

1 1/2 cups medium bulgur wheat
Kosher salt
1 bunch Swiss chard, stems removed, sliced into thick strips
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1 to 2 lemons)
2 medium cloves garlic, minced and mashed to a paste with a pinch of salt
1 large shallot or small onion, finely diced
1/2 cup mixed country olives, pitted, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro
1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine the bulgur wheat and 1 teaspoon of salt in a large bowl. Bring 2 1/4 cups of water to a boil and then pour over the wheat. Cover the bowl with a large plate and let set until the water has been absorbed and the bulgur is tender, about 1 hour.

Wash the chard and place it wet into the pot. Cover and steam over medium heat until wilted and tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain the chard, run it under cold water, and squeeze it dry.

Combine the lemon juice, garlic, and shallot, and let sit for at least 15 minutes.

Gently fold the olives, cilantro, parsley, oil, Swiss chard, and lemon mixture into the bulgur. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Refrigerate until cold.

Source: Adapted from Fine Cooking and Tasha DeSerio.

Local Ingredients:
Bulgur Wheat: Baer's Best, Lover's Brook Farm, South Berwick, ME via Russo's, Watertown, MA
Swiss chard, cilantro, parsley: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Waffles –or– Overcoming Fear of Electricity

Sometimes you have to eat waffles for breakfast AND dinner. Like yesterday!

Husband's vintage waffle iron has been sitting unused for more than a decade. Why? Because I didn't have a decent waffle recipe. And because I'm really afraid of his vintage waffle iron. I don't like that the electrical wiring is visible and situated so close to non-removable parts that require washing. Water is an excellent conductor of electricity, as you know. I am aware that "technically" I won't be electrocuted while washing the waffle iron as long as it's not plugged in, and I know it's not plugged in because I checked it 50 times, and there isn't even an electrical outlet near the sink. BUT STILL, my mental danger bells keep ringing so loudly, over and over again, that I don't even feel like making homemade waffles anymore I have such a headache.

But all that changed thanks to one recipe. And it came from a book that I think you should know about, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila. I'll be raffling off a copy this week, so stay tuned. I made the waffles for breakfast on Sunday morning, slathered them with butter, moistened them with just a bit of maple syrup, then piled strawberries and blueberries that we picked at Carver Hill Orchard on top along with some fresh whipped cream. Holy crap were they ever good. So good, in fact, that when we got back from the Red Sox game and I didn't want to make dinner, we just reheated the leftovers and had them AGAIN.

Take that, Danger Bells, it's double waffle time!!!

Waffles (print-friendly version)

Feel free to sub in half whole wheat flour if you like.

2 large eggs, separated
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup buttermilk, warmed
1 cup whole milk, warmed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 200°F.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, melted butter, buttermilk, milk, and vanilla. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In another medium bowl, whip the egg whites several minutes with an electric mixer until they hold soft peaks that droop slightly when the beaters are lifted.

Stir the milk mixture into the flour mixture until combined. Stir in a big spoonful of beaten egg whites until incorporated. Then, with a flexible spatula, gently fold in the remaining egg whites.

Grease the waffle iron either with cooking spray or brush with oil. Scoop 1/2 to 2/3 cup of batter into the hot iron. Cook according to the manufacturer's instructions or until golden and crispy on the outside. Keep warm in a single layer on a sheet pan in the oven until ready to serve. Top with butter and maple syrup, or whatever fresh fruit is in season. Jam is also acceptable. Whipped cream doesn't hurt, either.

Source: Adapted from The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila

Local Ingredients:
Eggs: Eric's Eggs, Starksboro, VT
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Buttermilk: Kate's Homemade Butter, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Milk, cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Berries: Carver Hill Orchard, Stow, MA

Cream of Broccoli Soup

I love soup in the springtime. I tend to be a little chilly in these transitional months, even as the temperature warms. Maybe it's the moist spring air, or because I'm exiting my layers a little too enthusiastically. Or, perhaps, it's true what Husband says: that I don't possess a functioning metabolism. Regardless of the reason, I'm in a perpetual state of goose bumps from October through May.

Lately, my cravings have been running increasingly green, just like the landscape. A few weeks ago, I had a pot of asparagus and fiddlehead soup to warm me. Now, it's cream of broccoli. The following recipe was inspired by Twelve Months of Monastery Soups by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette. Even though it was published 15 years ago, the book keeps coming up in conversations with various unconnected people. By the third mention, I knew I had to get a copy of the book. I'm glad I did. French monks really know their soups!

But there's another reason why I love this book. It's because of the image I've cultivated in my mind about the author, which I should note is entirely fictional. I imagine Brother Victor-Antoine alone in the kitchen of his stone monastery in the picturesque Hudson Valley cooking up cauldrons of bubbling soup. Meanwhile, two monks, one quite young and another significantly grayer, are walking silently down the arched, stone colonnade, their dark robes cinched at the waist with rope belts. Suddenly, as they approach the kitchen, their ears are assaulted by a tirade of the filthiest, most abominable swear words ever conceived in French, English, and Latin, as well as some that haven't been invented, yet. The obscenities, amplified by the cold stone, echo across the courtyard.

The young, sheltered monk stops in his tracks with a look of horror. The older one doesn't even break stride. "The soup must be especially good today," he notes. Observing that the young monk is still having trouble recovering, he adds, "Have you met Brother Victor, yet? He has an unholy way in the kitchen, but the soup? The soup is an act of God."

(This is what happens when my new favorite cookbook is written by a monk named Tourrette!)

Cream of Broccoli Soup  (print-friendly version)

I love this &*$#@^ soup! May I suggest a light grating of the sharpest cheddar cheese you have on hand? I used Cabot Seriously Sharp.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 onions, chopped
1 lb. fresh broccoli, cut into florets
3 medium potatoes, peeled, cubed
8 cups veggie stock, chicken stock, or water
1 cup heavy cream
Pinch of cayenne
Salt and black pepper to taste

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium-low heat. Add the onions and sauté until translucent, 4-5 minutes. Add the broccoli and potatoes, and stir to coat. Add the stock or water, increase heat, and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat, maintaining a simmer, and cook for 1 hour, until vegetables are tender. (Note: The original recipe calls for you to add all of the veggies to the pot with the water/stock right away, forgoing the oil. You can do it that way, if you prefer.)

If you have a stick blender, you can puree the soup right in the pot. If you're using a regular blender, let it cool until no longer hot and steamy, and puree in several batches, never filling the blender more than half full. Add the cream, cayenne, and salt and pepper. Reheat. Serve with grated sharp cheddar cheese.

Source: Adapted from Twelve Months of Monastery Soups by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette. He probably doesn't actually swear (too much!).

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

We've finally gotten some rain around here, and you know what that means: fiddleheads, ramps, and perhaps morels! I've seen fiddleheads and ramps at the market already. As for the mushrooms, I'm still waiting...

Fiddleheads are the coiled-up fronds of certain edible ferns. They taste like a cross between asparagus and green beans. You can use just asparagus for the soup, however, if immature fern fronds aren't your thing. For the aromatics, you have your choice of onions, leeks, or ramps. Ramps are foraged wild onions with a certain level of pungency that I enjoy. However, they were $17.98 a pound last week at Russo's, and so I will be using the 98-cents-a-pound spring onions until the price comes way down.

This soup tastes just like spring. Like a damp meadow without the mud and mosquitoes. Served warm, it takes the edge off of cooler days, and provides a sample of the warmth and greenery still to come.

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

Always parboil fiddleheads before adding them to your dish to get rid of any bitter toxins.

1/4 lb. fiddleheads, soaked in two changes of cold water, drained
2 Tbsp. butter
2 medium leeks or 1 small bunch ramps or spring onions (white and light green part only), chopped
1 1/2 lb. asparagus, tough ends snapped off, remaining stalks cut into thirds
1 medium potato, peeled, cubed
5 cups veggie stock or water
1 tsp. kosher salt
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh dill
Black pepper to taste

In a medium pot of boiling water, parboil the fiddleheads for 3 minutes. Drain and set aside.

In the same pot, melt the butter over medium low heat. Gently cook the leeks/ramps/onions, stirring frequently, until they soften but don't take on any color, about 4 minutes. Add the asparagus, fiddleheads, potatoes, stock/water, and salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, then lower heat and simmer until veggies are soft, 10-15 minutes. Set aside some fiddleheads and asparagus tips for garnish. Puree the rest right in pot with a stick blender, or let it cool and pour soup into a regular blender in two batches (never process steamy liquids in a blender unless you want soup all over your kitchen walls—make sure it cools first).

Reheat soup in pot with lemon juice, dill, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with a dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche, a few fiddleheads or asparagus tips, and chopped dill.

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

It occurred to me that in just a handful of years, my oldest son will be a teenager. A teenager!! This doesn't seem possible, and yet I would be lying if I said it felt like only yesterday when there was a 10-pound butterball turkey in my belly (well, 9 lbs. 12 oz. once he peed all over the OR staff). It doesn't feel like yesterday at all. But certainly not double-digit years before yesterday. Already he eats more than me and has the same size feet. I'm a little bit scared about the amount of food he's going to require once he doubles his weight and towers over me like his dad—and his little brother isn't far behind. I'll be cooking morning, noon, and night!

Nevertheless, my oldest is a joy to cook for because he likes so many of the same things I like, doesn't mind a little spice, and will eat any kind of seafood you throw at him. He particularly loves the Rhode Island-style calamari at the Chateau in Waltham. "Rhode Island-style" means the crispy fried rings and tentacles are tossed with thin loops of pickled hot peppers. The combination is utterly addictive. I knew it couldn't be that hard to make at home, and I planned to wing it using a jar of pepperoncini and some cherry-red peppadew peppers I had in the fridge. Then I found a Jasper White recipe from The Summer Shack Cookbook that tossed the whole shebang with garlic butter, and I couldn't find a single thing wrong with that.

According to White, Rhode Island has the largest squid-fishing fleet on the East Coast. You'll start to see local squid from Rhode Island in the spring, throughout the summer, and into the fall. I request half bodies and half tentacles because I love the fried tentacles best (more surface area for the crispy batter!). Banana peppers are traditional, but use whatever pickled hot peppers you desire. This was a hit with the whole family. Sure, the little one picked out the hot peppers—more for us. At this rate, the kids won't be getting any smaller, but I guess that's the whole idea behind this parenting thing.

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

The real trick is not to cook them too long or they will turn out as rubbery as a bicycle tire. A minute or less is all I needed. Cook a few and test for tenderness before proceeding with the rest. The original recipe doubled the garlic butter (which you may feel free to revert to), but I think it's plenty flavorful with half.

1 lb. cleaned medium squid (bodies and tentacles)
3/4 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne pepper (or 1 tsp. paprika)
Canola or peanut oil for deep-frying (about 6 cups)
1 cup buttermilk
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/2 cup sliced pickled peppers (like banana peppers, pepperoncini, or peppadew), drained

Cut the squid bodies into rings. Leave the tentacles whole unless they look ridiculously large. In a medium shallow bowl, combine the cornstarch, flour, cornmeal, salt, pepper, and cayenne/paprika. Pour buttermilk into another bowl. Line a rimmed sheet pan with paper towels.

Heat a heavy, medium, high-sided saucepan with 3 inches of oil until it reaches 375°F on a candy thermometer. Meanwhile, soak a few rings and tentacles in the buttermilk. With a slotted spoon, transfer to flour mixture and toss to coat. Scoop back up with the slotted spoon, shake off excess batter, and drop gently into hot oil. Cook 30 seconds to 1 minute until batter is golden but calamari is still tender. Transfer to paper towels to drain and sprinkle with salt while still hot. Repeat with remaining calamari in 4-5 batches. If the oil drops below 350°F, let it heat up again between batches. Transfer fried squid to serving platter.

In a small frying pan, melt the butter. Add the chopped garlic and sauté just until golden, 1-2 minutes. Add the sliced hot peppers and toss to coat. Drizzle calamari with garlic butter and peppers. Serve immediately with marinara sauce on the side if you like.

Source: Adapted from The Summer Shack Cookbook by Jasper White.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I need to sneak this recipe in before it gets too nice outside. Who wants chili in 70-degree weather? But I think we can expect a few more cold, rainy days in our future if I know Spring, and, when they come, keep this black bean and sweet potato chili in mind. Yes, it's vegetarian, but it's quick to make and boldly spiced as chili should be, making it very satisfying, especially when sprinkled with queso fresco or any other cheese you might have left over from the huevos rancheros. I'm always biased towards meat, so if I like a vegetarian recipe, that's a good sign!

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I cut back a little on the chipotle powder to keep things accessible for the kids. The flavors were still quite prominent. If you don't have chipotle powder, you can chop up one or two canned chipotles in adobo, or use a pinch of cayenne instead, or substitute some smoked paprika for a milder but smokier flavor.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground chipotle
2 1/2 cups water
2 15-oz. cans black beans, rinsed
1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Queso fresco (optional)

Heat oil is a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion and sweet potato, and cook stirring often, until the onion is soft, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, chili powder, cumin, chipotle, and salt to taste, stirring constantly until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add water, bring to a simmer, cover, reduce heat to medium-low to maintain a simmer, and cook until the sweet potato is tender, 10-12 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes, and lime juice. Return to a simmer and cook until slightly reduced, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in cilantro and more salt if needed. Crumble queso fresco on top. Serve with cornbread or cheddar quesadillas.

Source: Adapted from Eating Well magazine.

Sesame Soba Salad with Shiitakes

Husband was out of town last week, so I took that opportunity to make all the food he hates. (Or all the food he thinks he hates.) Enter this sesame soba salad with mushrooms and tofu. He's never had this particular dish before, but it just seems like exactly the kind of thing he wouldn't want to see on the dinner table after a long day at work. You get a sense for these things after spending 20 years with someone. But like I said, he was gone, and it was the perfect repository for my recent flush of homegrown shiitakes.

The recipe is from Melissa Clark's latest book, Cook This Now, which you should seriously consider buying, not because of the bullying title but because your favorite blogger bullied you into it. (That's me, by the way. Your favorite blogger. In case somebody else jumped to mind.) The chapters are arranged by month so it's perfect for cooking with the seasons, especially if you belong to a particularly fertile CSA. It's one of those cookbooks where every single recipe sounds good.

Soba are thin Japanese buckwheat noodles, and here they're tossed with roasted mushrooms, fresh cucumbers and scallions, and a sesame and soy sauce dressing brightened with ginger and a bit of orange juice. There's also a recipe for tofu "croutons," which I was skeptical about, not being much for tofu myself, but then I ate half of the fried cubes before dinner was even served. Frying makes everything better, even tofu. 

I think you can pretty well imagine the kids' reaction to this meal. My eldest looked stricken when confronted with his plate. He's a great eater these days, but even he has his limits. Brown pasta? Tofu? Mushrooms that look like sea monster tentacles? Not a recipe for success. (Well, maybe the sea monster tentacles.) Both kids ate their mandatory quota of bites and then slunk off. But, boy, I thought it was delicious. I will definitely be making this again, though maybe just for my solo weekday lunches.

Sesame Soba Salad with Roasted Shiitakes and Tofu Croutons

When outdoor potluck season begins, consider this instead of your usual pasta salad.

8 oz. shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, caps sliced into thin strips
2 1/2 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil, divided
5 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, divided
1/2 lb. extra-firm tofu, drained, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1 Tbsp. peanut oil or olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed orange juice
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. grated gingerroot
1 medium cucumber, peeled
6 oz. soba noodles
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro
1 Tbsp. sesame seeds
Salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Set a pot of water to boil.

Toss the mushroom slices with 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, and a pinch of salt. Spread them out on a baking sheet in a single layer. Roast, tossing occasionally, until mushrooms are tender and slightly golden, 8-10 minutes.

Pat tofu cubes dry with paper towels and heat oil in a large nonstick pan over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the tofu in a single layer and let it cook undisturbed for 3-4 minutes until golden brown on the bottom. Flip the pieces over and cook 2-3 minutes more until the other side is golden. In a small bowl, whisk together 2 Tbsp. soy sauce and 1/2 Tbsp. sesame oil. Pour it into the pan with the tofu and toss for 1 minute longer. Drain tofu on a paper towel-lined plate.

In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 3 Tbsp. soy sauce, 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, orange juice, rice wine vinegar, and ginger. Let sit so flavors meld.

Cook the soba noodles according to the package instructions. My instructions were in Japanese, so I kept tasting them until they seemed done, about 6 minutes. Drain and run under cold water, draining again.

Cut the peeled cucumbers lengthwise into quarters and scoop out the seeds. Cut each quarter into slices. In a large bowl, toss the noodles with the cucumber, mushrooms, scallions, and cilantro. Lightly toast sesame seeds in a dry pan, tossing frequently, 1-2 minutes. Add sesame seeds to salad. Toss with dressing, top with tofu, and serve.

Huevos Rancheros

The first thing I did when I made my deadline was to drag my neighbor out for Mexican, and then proceed to devour an entire Fiesta Plate all by myself along with most of my friend's refried beans, half a pitcher of sangria, and a giant piece of tres leches cake. Don't look at me like that—you can't celebrate a partially-completed dessert cookbook without cake!

That was followed soon thereafter by the peanut marzipan you saw in my previous post, because I can't go a whole week without sugar, you know that. Then came the huevos rancheros: warm corn tortillas strewn with cumin-scented black beans, fried eggs nestled on top, scattered with crumbled cheese and cilantro leaves, and ribboned with salsa or hot sauce. What can I say, I've really been digging Mexican food lately. I know I need to get back to work eventually, but right now, the fiesta continues!!

Huevos Rancheros

This is one of my favorite lazy meals because we always have eggs, cheese, a can of black beans, and a partially eaten jar of salsa on hand. If I have corn tortillas in the back of the fridge, I'll use them. If not, I leave them out. We eat this as often for dinner as for brunch.

1-2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. ground cumin (or more)
Pinch of cayenne
Salt and pepper
1 big can black beans, rinsed, drained
1 Tbsp. chopped cilantro
Fresh farm eggs
Cheese, crumbled or grated (e.g., queso fresco, cheddar, monterey jack, mozzarella)
Small corn tortillas
Salsa or hot sauce

Heat olive oil in a medium pot over medium heat until shimmery. Sauté onions until soft and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, and cayenne, and stir about 30 seconds. Stir in rinsed beans and a few tablespoons of water. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid evaporates and flavors meld, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cover with lid to keep warm.

In a non-stick pan, cook the eggs how you like them. I like mine over-easy (i.e., runny). Husband likes his with the yolks broken and completely cooked. My kids only like them scrambled. You can make a whole bunch of sunny-side-up eggs at once by cracking them into different quadrants of the same pan so the whites run together but the yolks are spaced out. Let them fry for a minute or two, then add a bit of water on top, cover, and steam until the tops are set. Then just use a spatula to cut between the yolks into portions.

Heat up the tortillas. I do this in the microwave in a stack covered with a damp paper towel. You can also do it in a hot, dry skillet for about 30 seconds per side.

To serve, arrange tortillas on plates. Scatter some beans on top. Set an egg in the middle and sprinkle with cheese. Spoon on some salsa or a squirt of hot sauce, and sprinkle with cilantro, salt, and pepper. Customize as you see fit, with sour cream, avocado or guacamole, or your own homemade pico de gallo when tomatoes are at their best.

Local Ingredients
Eggs: Allandale Farm, Brookline, MA
Tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Lynn, MA

Peanut Marzipan

I first tasted peanut marzipan in the Bronx one steamy summer circa 1987. Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody was playing on my Walkman. We were visiting a family friend, one of those transient people who passes in and out of your life almost unremembered. He produced a package that contained what in essence was a dense cake of powdered peanuts. He said it was Mexican marzipan. When you peeled off the cellophane, there was a thin film of grease clinging to it from the oil that had separated from the nuts in the summer heat. The marzipan was delicious! It reminded me of the inside of a peanut butter cup, but less sweet. Thirteen-year-old me wasn't a whole lot different than I am now. The package didn't last long in my hands.

Since then, I've never seen or even heard of peanut marzipan. It created a bit of confusion for me many years later when confronted with traditional marzipan, which has an entirely different flavor and texture, and isn't made from peanuts at all, but rather almonds. It's soft, sweet, and moist, almost perfumey with almond flavor. Peanut marzipan is sandier, crumblier, and, well, peanuttier. Whenever I mentioned marzipan made of peanuts, no one knew what the hell I was talking about.

Vindication came last week. Better 25 years late than never. I was at the library flipping through the cookbook My Sweet Mexico by Fany Gerson, which contains recipes for traditional and modern Mexican desserts. Right there on the page was a recipe for none other than peanut marzipan. Could it be, I thought? I swung by the store for some peanuts on the way home and whipped up a batch that afternoon. This never happens, but it was EVEN BETTER than what I remembered. Like peanut butter fudge but much easier to make. It had all of the peanut flavor and almost none of the guilt (there's always a smidgeon of guilt when you're enjoying yourself a little too much).

My youngest is a peanut butter fiend and he was enraptured at first bite. I promised he could have a bigger piece for dessert later on. In fact, all I saw of his dinner that night was an empty plate. He only had eyes for peanut marzipan. He's his mother's son, after all.

Peanut Marzipan

Two ingredients and five minutes in the food processor and you're done. You can make it with other nuts, too.

2 cups plain roasted unsalted peanuts, skins removed (not raw)
1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar

Grind the peanuts in a food processor until finely ground. Add the sugar and continue to process, scraping down the sides of the bowl occasionally, until peanuts release their oil and mixture clumps together. For me it took somewhere in the 3-5 minute range. You can roll the mixture into balls or form small disks by pressing it into a circular cookie cutter until compacted. Carefully remove cookie cutter and wrap in wax paper. Can be stored at room temperature for a little while at least, though long-term storage should probably be in the fridge.

Chicken Piccata

Don't worry, I'm not blogging about anything disgusting today. Let's try to get back on track with a recipe for a change.

Recently, I've been craving standard Italian chicken dishes. You know the ones: chicken piccata, chicken marsala, chicken cacciatore. You can find them on the menus of throwback Italian restaurants from the ubiquitous Olive Garden to more localized institutions like the Chateau in Waltham.

My cousin dropped me off an amazing book last month called Italy: The Country and Its Cuisine. That's mainly what I was reading in bed when I was sick. It's a giant, heavy 500-page hardcover cookbook filled with photographs of the food and landscape of Italy. It's pretty spectacular. No wonder I was starving half to death.

As soon as I was up and about, I was determined to make chicken piccata, a personal favorite of mine. I sliced the chicken breasts in half the flat way, dredged them in flour, browned them, and then smothered them in a pan sauce of lemon juice, capers, parsley, and butter. YUM! Next up was chicken marsala. (Sorry, kids, we're having chicken all week!) Same deal with the chicken cutlets: slice, flour, brown, remove. Then I sautéed up some shallots and mushrooms, deglazed with marsala wine, and maybe sprinkled a little marjoram on top. Yes, I did lick the pan the sauce was in clean. What of it?

The chicken cacciatore was something new for me. I don't think I've ever made it before. That may change since I learned that cacciatore means "hunter-style," so basically this stew is what the Italian hunters made on their campgrounds with whatever they had on hand. Think browned pieces of rabbit or fowl plus vegetables, tomatoes, wild mushrooms, herbs, and wine. I imagine the Italians carry bottles of wine with them everywhere they go, especially on hunting trips. If they don't, please don't spoil this image for me. The image of a dark-skinned Italian with a bottle of wine under one arm, truffles in his pocket, and a partridge slung over his shoulder. Yeah. The next time I go mushroom-hunting, you can bet I'll be making this, though my recent version relied on regular white buttons. I didn't want to tempt the Vomit Gods so soon.

I'm moving these three chicken dishes into the dinnertime rotation. They're classic for a reason.

Chicken Piccata

There are lots of variations on this theme that use garlic, shallots, and white wine. Experiment and find your favorite. This is ours.

2-3 boneless chicken breasts, skin removed
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
4-5 Tbsps. olive oil
3/4 cup chicken stock
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1-2 lemons)
1/4 cup capers
2 Tbsp. Italian flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Wash and dry the chicken breasts in cold water. Take each breast and butterfly it, meaning hold the knife parallel to the cutting board and slice along its width. I cut all the way through to make two thinner pieces of meat, but feel free to keep the breast intact if you like bigger portions, opening up the two sides which are now held together by a meaty hinge.

Season breasts with salt and pepper, and dredge with flour. Shake off excess.

Heat 3 Tbsp. olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. In two batches, cook the chicken breasts until brown, about 3 minutes. Flip and cook until the other side is brown, 2-3 minutes. Remove to a plate. Add more oil to the pan as needed for the second batch.

To the empty pan, add the stock, lemon juice, and capers. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Add the chicken breasts and their juices to the pan and simmer uncovered on low until sauce has reduced and chicken is heated through, 4-5 minutes. Remove chicken and whisk butter and parsley into sauce. Serve chicken over pasta and spoon sauce over the top.

New England Lobster Roll

And while we're talking about summer food, how about a lobster roll?

February has arrived and, even though it's been a relatively tame winter, I'm still sick of squash. I don't care what any groundhogs have to say about six more weeks of winter: I want it to be summer in my mouth, and if I have to spend my entire book advance on lobsters to make that happen, then so be it. Incidentally, I think we need to find a more translucent animal than a groundhog to make these kinds of shadow-based weather predictions. Like a jellyfish. Or something nocturnal like a bat. It's hard to see your own shadow in complete darkness. Are there any cute but completely blind animals?

Awkward segue back to lobsters: This is a very basic but totally delicious lobster roll technique. The idea is to let the lobster shine. The scallions and celery are barely there for a little color and crunch, not to compete with the lobster. There's just one thing I insist upon. Toast the buns. Toast them, people. It makes all the difference in the world.

Classic New England Lobster Roll

Serve with a green salad or not.

2 1-1/2-lb. lobsters, steamed (instructions here), cooled
2-4 Tbsp. mayo
1-2 scallions, chopped
2-inch piece of celery, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. salt (or to taste)
Squeeze of lemon juice
Pinch ground cayenne pepper
New England-style hot dog rolls (the ones that top-load and have flat sides for toasting)
Butter

Remove tail and claw meat (including the delicious arms!). Chop lobster meat into bite-sized chunks. Mix with mayo, scallions, celery, salt, lemon juice, and cayenne. Refrigerate until cold.

When ready to serve, heat skillet over medium heat. Butter the pan and the sides of the rolls (I do this by rubbing the stick of butter over the hot skillet, then rubbing the melty stick all over the sides of the roll, repeating until roll is sufficiently buttery). Toast buns several minutes on each side until golden. Let cool a few minutes, then stuff with dressed lobster. Serves 3-4.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Rockport lobsterman via Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA

Cracking the Recipe: Lobster Bisque

Our New Year's Eve dinner, hosted by friends E and J, was possibly one of the best meals of the year. Kir royales. Radishes with cultured butter and sea salt. Lobster bisque. Pan-roasted duck with thyme-infused honey sauce. Roasted root veggies and a green salad. Lemon cream tart for dessert. Truly delicious!

I brought the lobster bisque. Since a few of you requested the recipe during my guilt-ridden lobster confessional, I thought I'd share. It's good timing, too, because my CSF (community supported fishery) is once again offering lobsters for sale. Every once in a while, Cape Ann Fresh Catch offers a special item not usually found in our fish shares. They call it "Neptune's Share" as it is priced separately and based on availability and nature's whims. That meant mussels last summer and lobsters this winter. You know I can't pass up these opportunities. (To get your own self some lobsters, go here.)

The recipe below is based on the lobster bisque from the Brewster Fish House, one of our favorite restaurants on Cape Cod. Instead of pureeing the lobster into oblivion (which is also good!), they suspend chunks of lobster in the silky soup. It's sweet and spicy, and I've wanted to learn how to make it for years. However, I'm not going to ask them for their recipe. They're not going to give it to me, and why should they? Just because I like it? Everybody likes it! I figure, if I want it that badly, I should try to figure it out myself. And guess what? I'm really happy with the way it came out! I mean, we're not giving up our yearly summertime visits to the Brewster Fish House anytime soon. Don't be ridiculous.  But this is deliciously, tantalizingly close!

Lobster Bisque

This is not a quick recipe by any means, but if you're going to slap down the money for lobsters, you might as well put some effort into it! You will need lobster crackers, some patience, and several hours to spare. I sometimes boil the lobsters the night before, letting them cool in the refrigerator until morning.

2 live 1-1/2-lb. lobsters
1 Tbsp. kosher salt, plus 1 tsp.
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 onions, chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
1 Tbsp. flour
4 cups lobster stock
1 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. brandy
1/4 tsp. cayenne
White or black pepper to taste

Bring a large stockpot with a half-inch of water, 1 Tbsp. kosher salt, and the vinegar to a boil. Drop in the lobsters, close the lid, and steam 20 minutes until done. How do you know if they're done? Set a lobster on its back and stretch out the tail. It should snap back against its belly convincingly. Remove from pot and let cool until shells can be handled easily.

Over a large bowl, separate tails, claws, and arms from bodies of the lobsters. They should pull apart easily. To remove the meat from the tails, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to cut straight down the middle of the underside of the tail. Pull back on sides of tail to separate the shell and remove meat. Dice tail meat finely as it can be chewy in larger pieces. Remove meat from arms and claws using a lobster cracker to crush the shells so you can extract the meat. Careful: shells can be jagged, pointy, and sharp. Cut claw meat into larger, bite-sized pieces. Place all the lobster meat in a small bowl, cover, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F, and set the bodies and empty shells on a rimmed sheet pan. Bake shells 20 minutes until toasty and fragrant. Transfer shells to a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil, skim the foam from the top, and simmer 30 minutes. You can get fancy with the stock (bouquet garni and such), but I did not. Strain out and discard the shells, reserving the liquid. You will need about 4 cups of stock. Freeze the rest for future bisques or lobster risotto!

Make sure the stock is still steamy when you start the soup. If not, reheat in a small pot. Melt the butter in a medium heavy-bottomed pot over low heat. Add the onions and celery, and slowly sweat the vegetables until soft, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Do not let brown. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.  Add heated lobster stock slowly while stirring. Bring to a boil and simmer 5 minutes. Let cool completely. In four batches, puree the soup in a blender or food processor. Yes, I know we haven't added the lobster, yet. Patience! Also, make sure the soup is cool and that you don't fill the blender more than halfway or you will spray hot soup all over your kitchen. You want cool soup, small amounts of liquid in the blender, and a dishtowel placed over the top of the blender lid just in case. Pour batches of pureed soup into a bowl as you go.

When ready to serve, add the pureed soup back into the pot. Add in the lobster meat, cream, brandy, 1 tsp. salt (or to taste), pepper, and cayenne. Gently heat the soup until hot and steamy. Do not boil. After all this, you don't want to risk curdling the cream. Keep an eye on it. Serve hot in small shallow bowls.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Onions: Waltham Fields Community Farms, Waltham, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA