FOOD ON THE FOOD

What I’m Reading: Honey and Jam

I got another cookbook for Christmas, and it’s a beaut. Honey and Jam by Hannah Queen chronicles seasonal country baking from her kitchen in the Appalachian mountains. The recipes appealed to me right away: Cherry Almond Brown Butter Cake, Green Tomato Cornmeal Cake, Honeysuckle Cake, Apple Cider Doughnut Cake, Blueberry Corn Skillet Cake, and Autumn Breakfast Cake with pear, sweet potato, and hazelnuts. Yes, it’s mostly cakes (with a few tarts and pavlovas mixed in), but who doesn’t like cake? All the recipes are arranged by season and the photography is gorgeous.

Keep it in mind for next season’s garden bounty.

 

Turmeric Chicken with Sumac and Lime

My kids have spoken, and they’ve declared by unanimous vote that this week’s featured recipe should be Turmeric Chicken with Sumac and Lime from The New Persian Kitchen. (Credit for the above photo goes to photographer Sara Remington, author Louisa Shafia, and Ten Speed Press, not me.) This is the same author who brought us those amazing beet burgers back in April, so if you haven’t had a chance to pick up this cookbook, I suggest you do so.

For this recipe, chicken pieces are flavored with turmeric and braised in a garlic-scented broth, finished with lime juice and a sprinkling of sumac, and served over rice. The dish sounds fairly exotic, which is why the intensity of my kids’ enthusiasm surprised me. But when you really think about it, the flavors are actually pretty familiar. Turmeric is found in yellow mustard and gives that condiment its bright golden color while contributing to its overall mustardy flavor. My kids like mustard. My kids like garlic. My kids like chicken. Sumac is a Middle Eastern spice with a tart, acidic flavor packed into pretty red flakes. It can be used in place of, or in concert with, citrus. Since my kids love limes, this wasn’t much of a stretch.

My growing tween boys loved this dish. They ate up every bit of the chicken and all of the sauce. They think you will, too.


Turmeric Chicken with Sumac and Lime  

I’ve written out the recipe for a whole chicken since that’s what I had, but you could use all thighs as called for in the original recipe. If you don’t have sumac, you can leave it out and use a heavy hand with the lime instead. Or you can give the recipe more of an Indian flavor by subbing in a dusting of garam masala.

1 3-4-lb. chicken, cut into pieces, breasts cut in half
1 Tbsp. kosher salt
2 tsp. black pepper
1 tsp. ground turmeric
2 Tbsp. grapeseed oil (or vegetable oil)
3/4 cup water
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 juicy limes, halved
Sumac, for garnish

Arrange the chicken pieces in a single layer on a large plate. Mix together the salt, pepper, and turmeric in a small bowl. Sprinkle the spice mixture over the chicken, flipping to coat both sides.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and add the oil. In two batches, brown the chicken well on both sides, about 3-4 minutes per side. Add all the chicken back to the pan. Add the water and stir in the garlic. Bring the water to a boil, then turn down the heat to low and cover the pan. Braise the chicken for 25 minutes, until the inside is opaque. Transfer the chicken to a serving platter, turn up the heat to high, and reduce the cooking liquid for a few minutes, stirring occasionally until slightly thickened. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Pour the sauce over the chicken, squeeze one lime half over the top, and dust with sumac and black pepper. Serve with rice and remaining lime wedges.

Source: Adapted from The New Persian Kitchen by Louisa Shafia

Feeding My Book Habit

I was wandering around the local library the other day following signs for a book sale. When I finally found it, the woman at the table was apologetic: it was the last day and pretty picked over. She seemed worried I wouldn't be able to find anything I'd like. But I knew better. There's always something strange hiding away just for me.

Books were $5 per giant box. Over the course of an hour, I managed to fill up my box with all kinds of wonderful things and a few questionable ones, too. There was a mint condition Calvin and Hobbes book. Was this some kind of mistake? Who passes up a perfectly good Calvin and Hobbes book? There was a hardback copy of Robinson Crusoe with only a little water damage to the back end. I've started reading it to the kids before bed. The 11YO, who's already read it along with every other book in the library, interrupted to tell his brother the beginning is super-boring, but it's about to get awesome, just wait. 

For me, there was a hardcover copy of Feasts for All Seasons by De Groot, a collection of fantastical menus with seasonal recipes like roast venison with chocolate sauce. If I ever get around to making this dish, I know just the deer for the job (more updates on him later). I found a gardening book I sorely need, an untouched copy of The Best Food Writing 2011, and A Little Treasury of American Poetry published in 1948. I snapped up Barbara Kingsolver's debut novel The Bean Trees, which I'm enjoying. And then there were all the old, unphotogenic cookbooks, including The Art of Pennsylvania Dutch Cooking, which has not one, not two, but three recipes for Shoo-Fly Pie (recipes contain no actual flies, but do involve copious amounts of molasses and lard and therefore will be occupying my oven immediately).

There were books I judged purely on their cover, like The Hills at Home. I have no idea if I'm going to like this book or even read it, but I can stare at the cover art for hours.


I kept running across this one really old book with a blue fabric embossed cover and broken binding that I just wanted to hold. I couldn't even read the title it was so faded, and I couldn't find a title page, either. I put it back three times, but it kept jumping out at me so I finally just put it in my box. I didn't take a closer look until I got home and realized it's called Arthurian Romances by Chretien de Troyes. Great. Just what I need. Romance.

There were a bunch of other books, too. Only time will tell if they're worth keeping. Like the book of duets for saxophone and piano. Each kid plays one of those instruments, and even I've been known to tickle the ivories once in a while, if by tickle you mean pound them unmerciful when they don't do my bidding. I can tell you already, it's going to be one hell of a Christmas concert this year. Brace yourselves, grandparents!

But I'm so excited to keep exploring my box of books! I'm already marking my calendar for next year's library sale. I'll just have to make sure I go on the last day again so everybody goes through and gets rid of all the crap I don't want!

Fun With Garden Pests

I know that snails are bad for gardens, but I was glad I found a couple of them today because there was one for each boy to play with. They built a little habitat out of rocks and twigs in a shady spot far away from the garden, and spent a good half hour observing the snails. It bought me lots of extra weeding time.


It also reminded me to tell you about a book I recently read and loved called The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey. It's about as exciting as it sounds, action-wise, but it's a beautiful, quick, and interesting read that really makes you appreciate the slow and steady things in life. And couldn't we all use a little more of that?

The Coastal Table and Nasturtium Butter

Here's a book that was made for summer: The Coastal Table. In it are seasonal recipes and beautiful photos from the farms and shores of southern Massachusetts. I met author Karen Covey at the Eat Boutique holiday market in Boston last December, where we were promoting our respective books. In a show of local author solidarity and a mutual appreciation of local foods, we each bought a copy of the other's book. I'd been holding off on cooking from it until the good, fresh produce of summer arrived, and, what do you know, here it is!

The school garden is full of edible nasturtium blossoms in bright, sunshiny colors right now. I love using these beautiful flowers in salads or as a garnish, but I've never used them in any other capacity. That's why I decided to start with the recipe for roasted fish with nasturtium butter. This unusual compound butter has delicate bursts of lemon, salt, and the fresh, peppery taste of nasturtiums, which taste a bit like radishes. And if you know anything about radishes, then you know how well they go with butter and salt. This compound butter is a nice way to add a little flavor and color to a simple piece of fish, roasted or grilled. When the butter melts, little ribbony flecks of flower petals are scattered all over the top of the fish like confetti. Hooray summer!

I'm excited to cook more recipes from this book as the season progresses. The beach plum mojito looks divine, as does the chilled sweet corn soup with lobster. I also have my eye on her baked eggs and bacon jam. Since I think this is a book you guys will like, Union Park Press has offered to give away one copy of The Coastal Table to one lucky reader. To be entered to win, add a comment to this post telling me what you like to do with nasturtiums, or what kinds of other edible flowers you find uses for, or just tell me what you're looking forward to eating this summer, flowers be damned. This raffle will close Thursday 7/10 at 10 p.m. EST. Good luck!



Roasted Cod with Lemon Nasturtium Butter   

The flavors here are simple and delicate, so make sure your fish is exceedingly fresh. Same with your butter. If you don't have access to nasturtiums, you can substitute a tablespoon or two of your favorite fresh herbs, like Italian parsley, tarragon, and chives, well chopped.

12 nasturtium flower petals
1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
Zest from 1 lemon
Kosher or sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
(4) 4-ounce pieces of cod, haddock, or halibut, each about 1-1/2-inches thick

Swirl the flowers in a large bowl of cold water and gently swirl them around to release any dirt. Remove the flowers from the water and place them on a clean tea towel or paper towel until completely dry.

Place the softened butter, lemon zest, and a pinch of salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Finely chop the nasturtium petals and add them to the bowl. Gently mix until everything is well combined, with visible flecks of flowers throughout. Transfer the butter mixture to a piece of plastic wrap and roll into a log, twisting up both ends to enclose. Refrigerate the butter until firm, at least 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Place the fish in a large baking dish and add about 2 tablespoons of water to the dish. Roast uncovered until the fish is opaque and cooked through, about 12 minutes. Meanwhile, remove the butter from the refrigerator and cut 4 slices from the log.

Transfer the fish to a plate lined with paper towels to remove any excess moisture, then transfer to a serving platter or individual plates. Set a slice of butter on top of each piece of fish. Serve warm.

Reserve the remaining butter well-wrapped for another use (like spread on good French bread with sliced radishes).

Source: Adapted from The Coastal Table by Karen Covey

Local Sources:
Butter: Kate's of Maine, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Nasturtiums: My garden, Waltham, MA

What To Do With Leftover Panzanella

Last week, I made that Italian tomato and bread salad everyone's always talking about: panzanella. It was a riff on a recipe I saw in Homemade with Love by Jennifer Perillo and Penny de los Santos (good book, by the way). I grilled the bread, brushing it with olive oil beforehand and rubbing it with a garlic clove afterwards. Then I cubed the toasty bread and tossed it with fresh farm tomatoes, chopped basil, parsley, and marjoram from my neighbor's garden, a little vinaigrette, and some crumbled feta cheese I had in the fridge.

The kids thought it was "weird" until I explained that it's just like salad except all of the lettuce was traded in for extra croutons. Then they were pretty okay with it.  The adults thought it was really good, but someone made a whole giant bowl of the stuff and you can only eat so much. At least that was Husband's excuse. So I put plastic wrap over the top and saved it for the next day even though I knew what was going to happen. By tomorrow, it would be a spongy, disgusting mess. Who wants to eat a bunch of soggy croutons? No one, that's who.

Over one shoulder appeared a miniature version of Husband wearing a pair of plastic red horns on his head. You're never going to eat the rest of that, he said. Just throw it away. You can throw it away now, or you can throw it away later once an entire new micro-civilization has evolved. But, either way, it's going in the garbage.

Over the other shoulder appeared a miniature version of someone else who looked kind of familiar except she was wearing a flowy white dress over her jeans, which is very out of character. She was also holding a dinner plate over her head like some kind of a halo, which it clearly was not. Nevertheless, she implored me to keep it. Just keep it around for a day or two. It'll totally still be good. Think of all the starving people, blah, blah, blah.

So I saved the leftover panzanella and pulled it out for lunch the next day. It was even more horrible than expected. Why is cold, mushy bread so vile? But then I had an idea. An epiphany, really. Why not make soup? The Spaniards sometimes thicken gazpacho with bread. The Wednesday Chef has an amazing tomato soup recipe on her blog that is bread-based. What would happen if I just dumped the leftover panzanella into a pot with a can of tomatoes and cooked it for, oh, 10 to 15 minutes?

Awesomeness happens, that's what. Best. Lunch. Ever.

Fired Up

We just returned from our Fourth of July weekend, which spanned several states and left me unattractively matted with sunscreen, chlorine, and bug spray, scabbed with poison ivy and mosquito bites, but a smile imprinted across my sunburned face.

Why so happy? Because summer is awesome. And my book is ready for preorders. Want a peek?


I know winter food is probably the last thing on your mind, but you have to admit: After two weeks of blistering ninety-five-degree heat, a snow cone is sounding pretty good right now, isn't it?

Wintersweet can be preordered through all of the usual suspects—your favorite indie bookstore, Powell's, Barnes & Noble, Amazon—but here's another brilliant idea. If you buy it through my local bookstore, Back Pages Books in Waltham, I'll sign it before we ship it off. Just click here and then write what you want the inscription to read where it says "Order comments" (or just leave me to my own devices). Then we'll get it out as soon as it's available, which will be sometime in October. Back Pages is also hosting my book launch party on Friday, October 25 at 7 pm, so mark your calendars if you like food and books! More on that later.

Meanwhile, extra credit goes to anyone who can tell me what that dessert is up there on the cover.

Home Made Summer Giveaway

 

They say don't judge a book by its cover, but I think it's okay in this case!

Notions of summertime lemonade stands are what first drew my eye to this book. But those are actually preserved lemons on the cover—the salt-cured citrus fruits that brighten Middle Eastern stews and summer salads. That's what I like about this cookbook. It's a mix of the familiar and the unexpected using the fresh summer produce we hold so dear.

Author Yvette van Boven is a caterer and cafe-owner who lives in Amsterdam and Paris, but the food reflects the many summers she spent in the French countryside with her photographer husband Oof Verschuren. The photos in Home Made Summer are half the fun, depicting European bars and boulangeries, lively street scenes, and lush, misty greenhouses and gardens. Her recipes are real, fresh, and inviting—not stodgy. Like van Boven's previous books, Home Made and Home Made Winter, this one has the same quirky design and playful style. Her own drawings are peppered throughout the book, and she displays a penchant for making funny faces in photographs: proof she doesn't take herself too seriously.

Some recipes I've dog-eared include: tomato salad with goat's milk ricotta, coriander, and basil oil; buttery corn risotto; quinoa salad with fava beans, turnip greens, and preserved lemons; and watermelon granita. The crab cakes with paprika mayo I made last week were excellent, and I'll be sharing that recipe in my next post.

So, who wants it? I've got one copy to give away in the name of summer and the only question is: to whom? To enter this raffle, just leave a comment on this post about your favorite homemade food you can't wait to make this summer. Entries must be received by midnight EST on Thursday, June 20 so the winner can be announced on the summer solstice, which is this Friday, June 21. Don't let the warming temperatures make you sluggish or you'll miss it.

Ready, set, go!



Many thanks to Stewart, Tabori & Chang and Jacqueline Church for donating a copy of the book.

Grapefruit Fennel Salad

To celebrate me losing all of my dessert cookbook weight, let's have a salad!

I've been enjoying this grapefruit fennel salad for months now. It was inspired by a recipe in Amanda Cohen's cookbook, Dirt Candy. If you're unfamiliar with the NYC veggie-focused restaurant by the same name or its comic-book-themed cookbook spin-off, I suggest you seek out the latter the next time you're at the library or your local bookstore. It's an entertaining read as it illustrates, quite literally, the reality of opening a new restaurant, Cohen's stint on Iron Chef America, as well as cooking techniques for vegetables. As the author and heroine of this graphic novel, Cohen dons her chefly superpowers with wit and humility. The book is great fun, as is her blog. Check out this hilarious post on how her celery salad went over at the NYC Wine & Food Fest. If you find yourself defecting to her blog, I'll totally understand!

But back to the salad. Cohen's version includes candied grapefruit lollipops and grilled cheese croutons, which are no doubt delicious, but my version is a little more pared down (read: lazy). I've settled on this basic arrangement: mixed greens with thinly sliced fennel and red onion, segmented grapefruit, and crumbled feta. The salad benefits from having something fatty and salty in the mix, so if you forgo the cheese, fill the void with crumbled bacon, chopped almonds or pistachios, or cubed avocado with a sprinkling of sea salt. The dressing, which I make with anise seeds instead of fennel seeds, is mildly fruity and refreshing. It's the perfect pre-summer salad.

(It also reminds me a little bit of dessert!)

 

Grapefruit Fennel Salad     

Below are my suggestions, but use what you like in the proportions of your choosing. Just be sure to slice the vegetables very thinly. A tangle of radish sprouts would be a nice addition. The amounts below serve two grownups. Scale up as you wish.

Salad
1 to 2 cups mixed lettuce, spinach, and baby kale
1/2 fennel bulb, thinly sliced
1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced (only cut what you'll use)
1 red grapefruit
Crumbled feta, goat cheese, or queso fresco
Chopped salted almonds or pistachios (optional)

Anise Dressing
1 tablespoon finely grated grapefruit zest (from 1 grapefruit)
2 tablespoons grapefruit juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon anise seeds
1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

For the salad, toss the lettuce, fennel, and onion in a bowl.

Finely grate the zest from the grapefruit and set it aside for the dressing. Cut the grapefruit in half and reserve one of the halves for the dressing. To segment the other half, place it cut-side-down and slice the peel off the grapefruit in swaths, following the contour of the fruit. Then turn it over and cut between the membranes to remove the juicy flesh in between. Set the grapefruit segments aside in a shallow bowl.

For the dressing, add the grapefruit zest, grapefruit juice from the reserved grapefruit half, lemon juice, anise seeds, and mustard to a blender. Blend on high, then reduce the speed to low and slowly stream in the oil until smooth and emulsified. Add salt and pepper to taste. (The dressing can be stored in a covered jar in the refrigerator for up to a week.)

Lightly dress the greens and veggies just before serving. Arrange the salad on plates with the grapefruit segments, cheese, and nuts if using. Serve additional dressing at the table.

Source: Adapted from Dirt Candy by Amanda Cohen, Ryan Dunlavey, and Grady Hendrix

Christmas Loot

I'm still sick. In the meantime, here are a few excellent food-related things I acquired over the holidays. A few cookbooks, a cute little cast-iron teapot, and pecan pralines straight from the French Quarter.

Even at my age, I still find Christmas kind of magical in the non-religious, totally commercial sense of the word. I mean, yes, Christmas is more about giving than receiving and our focus is always the kids, but I still secretly hope there will be something exciting for me under the tree. To make sure this happens, I may or may not wrap up a few things for myself. Like one or two of those cookbooks up there. *cough*

I needn't worry, though, because despite Husband's lackadaisical approach to gift-wrapping, he rarely disappoints on Christmas Day. This despite (or more likely on account of) all of his unbudgeted, unapproved purchases. Every year I tell him, don't buy any other extra stuff besides what we've discussed right here on this list, clipboard and abacus in hand, pencil behind my ear.

"Merry Grinchmas," he'll say, leaving the room. "And a Shitty Year's Eve!!"

He always ignores my admonishments no matter what I say. It makes for fun present-opening for the whole family, I'll admit. The only downside is that it sets a bad precedent for the whole rest of the year when he doesn't listen to a goddamned word I say.

(Ah, but thanks to him I now possess the technology to send him nagging texts! He'll think twice about extra presents for his wife next year!)

Holiday Raffle 2012: Desserts in Jars

Some of you may remember the argument Husband and I had some years ago about Mason jars: how I think they're great and he thinks they're dumb. Okay, maybe I'm putting words into his mouth—you can read the actual dialogue here. But I stand by my assertion that Mason jars rock. I use them for drinking glasses, for backup measuring cups, to store grains and popcorn to keep the pantry moths at bay, as flower vases and votive candle holders, as well as the obvious small-batch canning projects and leftover storage.

Today's raffle item suggests another use for jars: as baking vessels and serving dishes for dessert. Blogger Shaina Olmanson of Food for My Family brings us Desserts in Jars: 50 Sweet Treats that Shine. I haven't tried any of the recipes since I'm off desserts for the time being, but they do sound pretty great: peanut butter cup cupcakes in jars, tres leches cakes in jars, coconut cream pies in jars, espresso creme brûlée in jars. You get the picture. There are also recipes for homemade cake mixes for gift-giving, like cranberry walnut quick bread, monster cookies, and spiced hot chocolate with marshmallows. (In jars!)

I happen to have an extra copy of this book from my friend who works at Harvard Common Press, so if you want it, leave a comment about your unusual uses for jars or what you're baking for the holidays because I like to torture myself. If you've recipe-tested for my book, you get to enter twice to double your chances (submit two separate comments or the random number generator will only count you once). The contest will close on Monday 12/10 at 10 p.m. EST. Good luck!

Food in Jars Giveaway

It's coming up on that time of year when I start to display an uncharacteristic generous streak. Yes, I have a few giveaways planned starting today. Of course, I'd love to raffle off a copy of my own book, but you won't want it in the condition that it's in right now, all marked up with edits. It should probably be printed on paper without pizza stains and maybe have the swears deleted. Some photographs might be nice, too. Let us gussy it up for you first!

Instead, I'd like to show you another book produced by my publisher earlier this year. It's Food in Jars by Marisa McClellan. You may know her from her great canning blog by the same name. Not surprisingly, it's about all the pretty seasonal things you can put in jars. Lest you think there's nothing left to can at this time of year, that I'm a little bit late as usual, may I direct you to the recipes for slow-cooker pear butter, cranberry conserve, apple pumpkin butter, sweet and sour pickled red onions, and gingery pickled beets. Oh, there's plenty, including handmade gift ideas like maple pecan granola, rosemary salt, and homemade cake mixes in jars.

I admire this book not just because of the recipes and the accessible writing style, but also because of how attractive it is. I just love the jacketless cover, the gorgeous photos of jams dripping all over the place, the nice, thick paper. Will my cookbook end up looking like this, I wonder? Holy crap, I hope so!!

Running Press is giving away one copy of Food in Jars to be raffled off to a special someone. (And, no, my publisher did not ask me to post this. You know I don't like to do anything people tell me to do. Just ask Husband.) To be entered, leave a comment on this post about food or jars or whatever you want. I'm not being picky today. If you've recipe-tested for my book, you get to enter twice to double your chances (submit two separate comments or the random number generator will only count you once). The contest will close on Sunday 11/18 at 10 p.m. EST. Have at it!

Tuesday Tease: Blueberry

See that blueberry on my blueberry bush? I ate it. Haha! Victory is mine!

Take that, blue jays!

And speaking of victory, the winner of The Homemade Pantry raffle is Sarah T. Thanks for all of your honest and entertaining comments. And now I know *exactly* who should receive my recipes for whipped cream and puff pastry for recipe-testing!!

Happy Fourth, everyone!

Raffle: The Homemade Pantry

Now that you've made waffles—or at least considered making them—now is your opportunity to win a copy of the book that inspired the waffles, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila.

You may know Alana from her blog Eating from the Ground Up (writers will want to read this post in particular). Perhaps you've waved to her from the Pike on your way through the Berkshires. But if you don't know her, it's about time you do. Her cookbook is simply delightful with charming stories about her family and the role food plays in making her home a happy place. Her recipes are imbued with a near-childlike excitement, and that enthusiasm is contagious. Am I really going to make homemade yogurt instead of buying it at the store? No. But maybe! She sounds so damn excited about it!

Included are recipes for homemade butter, ricotta, and mozzarella, as well as toaster pastries, pizza, macaroni and cheese, whole wheat bread, lasagna, graham crackers, and pesto: so many things that come up in the family snack or meal-time rotation. I have her cornbread and granola earmarked, but I'm also really interested in trying out her recipes for coffee liqueur and amaretto. Instead of throwing out your spent vanilla beans, she suggests rinsing them well and storing them in a little bottle with some cheap vodka to make your own vanilla extract. The book is a genuine, down-to-earth collection of some simple ideas for things you can make at home that might be worth the effort and save you money.

Clarkson Potter is offering one copy up for raffle. To enter, comment below by Monday, July 2 at 10 p.m. EST about the one thing in your pantry or fridge that you'll never, ever make yourself, no matter how easy it is. I'll start. I will never, ever make my own hot dog buns. Eff that. By the time I get to hot dogs, I've already given up. I don't care how good your recipe is, I'd rather eat the hot dog and its ample condiments out of my cupped hands than bake a hot dog bun. There, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now you go.

(And, no, you will not be disqualified if you happen to mention something that's in the book. There are still 100 other recipes, after all!)

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.

2011 Holiday Raffle: The Flavor Bible

Okay, you guys, I think this is going to be the last raffle. This generosity thing is exhausting.

The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg is one of the most interesting and unique food books out there. It's a compilation of flavor matches for pretty much any ingredient under the sun, from achiote seeds to zucchini blossoms. Each ingredient is followed by a list of complementary flavors. The strongest matches are indicated in boldface and/or caps.

So, if you were to look up, say, figs, you would find a long list of ingredients that have an affinity for figs, like arugula, bacon, hazelnuts, and pears. In bold would be prosciutto, red wine vinegar, and mascarpone, indicating an even stronger partnership, and, in bold caps, the ultimate matches: BLUE CHEESE, HONEY, and WALNUTS. Ergo, an arugula salad with pears and figs sprinkled with crumbled bacon, hazelnuts, and blue cheese lightly dressed with a red wine vinaigrette might not be a shitty idea!

It's basically a food thesaurus. And now that I'm writing a cookbook, it's become a really useful reference tool. When I get stuck on a recipe (either because it's ill-conceived or my vision exceeds my talents), I simply read through the appropriate ingredient list before bed, and, when I wake up, I have some new recipe ideas fully formed and ready for testing. It's like magic!

But even if you're not under the gun in terms of recipe development, it's fascinating to flip through the lists. They were compiled not just from the minds of the authors, but from dozens of internationally renowned chefs, like Daniel Boulud, Rick Bayless, Lidia Bastianich, Mario Batali, Judy Rodgers, Vikram Vij, and Grant Achatz. There are suggested flavor pairings ranging from obvious to oddball, quotes from chefs about how they cook with specific ingredients, and actual menu items from famous restaurants. There are some pretty photos, too, but it's mostly a word book. Did I mention it won a James Beard Award?

Little, Brown has graciously agreed to donate one copy. To be considered, tell me how you would finish the following food equation, which was pulled directly from the book. In other words, what sort of dish would you make with:

sweet potatoes + apples + sage

I know, I know, you're busy with all of your holiday crap, and now I'm expecting you to be the next Iron Chef. If you're stuck, do what I do and sleep on it. Then comment with whatever your subconscious serves up. Involve as many other ingredients as you'd like—this is just a starting point. You don't even have to cook it for me. If it sucks, I'll never know! Comments will close Saturday 12/24 at 10 p.m. EST and Random.org will do the rest.

Happy Holidays!

2011 Holiday Raffle: Plate to Pixel

Next up for raffle is Plate to Pixel, a digital photography and food styling book by Hélène Dujardin. If you're familiar with her blog, Tartelette, then you know she's one of the best food photographers out there. Her photos are artful and elegantly composed without looking overdone. The focus is always on the food. Her work is a complete pleasure to look at.

Last summer, in the name of improving my photography skills, I checked out a bunch of books from the library for some light reading. In those particular books, it was recommended that mashed potatoes be used as a stand-in for ice cream to eliminate any melting issues. Grill marks could be painted on with eyeliner. And dish soap bubbling on the surface of a beverage would make it look freshly poured. I nearly hurled right there on the beach when I learned of all the food-styling fakery that seems to be the industry standard. And, yet, it was strangely satisfying to discover that my eye had been right all along. Ever wonder why that turkey on that magazine cover looked so unnatural? It's because it was half-raw and sprayed with hair spray for that "just-roasted" look. Yummy! The weird-looking milk on that cereal box? Elmer's glue. *dry heaves*

I quickly returned all of those books and bought Plate to Pixel instead. The food is real. It actually gets eaten afterwards. And it looks delicious! She has one photograph of brightly colored crabs on newspaper that is a gorgeous study in contrast, and another of a pomegranate bleeding onto a white plate that breaks my heart a little. Instead of fakery, there are tips for keeping things fresh-looking and practical advice like staging the shot before the food even comes out. There's technical camera stuff, too, like the different kinds of light and how to bounce it, and ISO and depth-of-field and hoobity ha. I picked up a few tips, I swear, but mostly I just eyeballed the food porn. That kind of artistry is hard to learn, and I'm not a dedicated student. Still, I would highly recommend the book to bloggers with an interest in photography, photographers with an interest in food, and foodies with a little extra time on their hands (and possibly some disposable income since you will undoubtedly develop a hankering for expensive camera equipment).

To win this book, comment on this post with a link to your worst food photo. I'll start: here's mine (the ginger cookie recipe is good, though). Or, if you don't have a blog or any other evidence of your photographic failings, just tell me why you want this book. Comments will close at 10 p.m. on Sunday 12/11 and a winner will be chosen by Random.org. And if you don't win, console yourself with the knowledge that you can always read her beautiful blog for free everyday!

Many thanks to Wiley for donating a copy of this book!

2011 Holiday Raffle: The Apple Lover's Cookbook

To kick off a month of atypical non-Grinchy behavior, I will be raffling off some of my favorite books to you, my loyal readers! If you've recently arrived here after reading the Edible Boston article on local food blogs, and you aren't sure you have what it takes to be a loyal reader, I'm hoping free stuff will convince you. I have a lot to give away and there are only three weeks until Christmas or something crazy like that, so check in often if you don't want to miss your chance to win. Once the clock strikes 12 on Christmas Eve, I'm keeping whatever's left like some sort of greedy Cinderella who misses the point of Christmas entirely.

Starting us off is Yankee Magazine lifestyle editor Amy Traverso and her great new cooking tome and apple encyclopedia, The Apple Lover's Cookbook. Think apples are all the same? Oh ho ho, you are so wrong. So wrong! Let Amy show you the error of your ways with a primer of 59 apple varieties, from quirky heirlooms to newfangled hybrids. Then be grateful that she was the one that had to do all that research and not you.

Moving on to recipes, there's literally not a single dish contained in this book that I don't want to eat. Apple crisp? Don't mind if I do. Apple pie? You bet! Cider doughnuts? Hell, yeah. Apple-gingersnap ice cream? STOP TORTURING ME!!! It's not just sweet stuff, either. There are recipes for sausage, apple, and cheddar strata, sweet potato and apple latkes, and apple cider-braised turkey with applejack-sage gravy. I made the braised pork shoulder with hard cider, Calvados, and prunes a few weeks ago, and it was so good that I refused to eat anything else for a whole 18 hours so as not to taint the memory. (That's a personal record for me, by the way.)

Quite simply, this is a book everyone needs to have. I mean, unless you hate apples. Is it even possible to hate apples? I might argue you're just confused. Maybe it's scrapple you hate? Anyway, to be entered to win, simply leave a comment on this post with your favorite variety of apple and/or apple preparation, and a commenter will be selected at random by one of those Internet-based number generators. Comments will close at 10 pm EST on Monday, 12/5. And if you don't win this raffle, there's still plenty of time to put the book on your Christmas list. That's the second best way to get free stuff!

Many thanks to W.W. Norton for donating a copy of this beautiful book!

Henpecked

Does anybody know what this is?

Bet you weren't expecting a pop quiz on wild fungi first thing in the morning, but I'll make mushroom foragers out of you yet. You've seen this before on this blog. It's a hen of the woods. Not a chicken of the woods. That's different. A hen of the woods is a ruffly mass that grows at the base of oak trees. It has pores on the underside instead of gills, and has no poisonous look-alikes. It usually grows back year after year in the same place. It is also amazingly delicious and doesn't make me vomit. In other words, A-list material.

Ever since a kind stranger bestowed upon me a hen of the woods last year (when I made that amazing celery root and wild mushroom lasagna), I've been trying to find one of my very own. I thought I found such a specimen over the summer, but it was growing on protected land (and people were looking), so I couldn't take it home. Then, a few weeks ago, I went on a group mushroom walk with Lawrence Millman. He just came out with a new mushroom book, Fascinating Fungi of New England, which is beautifully illustrated and written with a certain amount of wit. He brought us around the woods of Drumlin Farm and pointed out all kinds of fungi I hadn't seen before, like stinkhorns and white pine splotch. He seemed to have a particular fascination with slime molds, which I did not share.

On our way back, though, something caught my eye. I nearly peed my pants on the spot because some distance off the path was the most beautiful hen of the woods I've ever seen. It looked like two hens nestled together and it was pristine. Pristine, I tell you! I got out my trusty camera and proceeded to fumble around with the controls, including white balance, ISO, and the critical equilibrium between aperture and shutter speed, during which time the battery died. I shit you not. It died at that very moment. Meanwhile, people must have noticed that I found something camera-worthy because they made a beeline straight for it. A few of them started ripping pieces off of it to get a better look at the pores. I had to stab myself in the leg with my pen to keep from shrieking STOP!! DON'T MANGLE IT, GODDAMNIT. LEAVE IT ALONE!!! (Sheesh, Tammy, possessive much?) Finally, I flung myself on top of it using my body as a human shield. At this point, someone took note of the emotional pitch and I was politely reminded that this, too, was protected land and the mushroom should not be removed. But it's a farm, I said! A farm! And that's when a team of horses was harnessed to my belt loops and dragged me away, limp and pouting. Oh, Drumlin, you big tease!

Luckily, a nice young lady snapped a photo of the mushroom before it got too mangled and she sent me the link. See how pretty? You can tell somebody else took that photo because it's sharp and well lit. It takes more than battery power to take a photo like that.

Anyway, I've been on a mission these past few weeks to find a hen of the woods I can actually bring home and cook. In fact, I found two! BUT one was well past its prime, and the other, pictured above, was way too maggoty for me to actually eat. I considered it, I really did, but even I have some standards. Oh well. At least next year I'll know to return to the coordinates of those exact locations. And this time, I'll be all decked out in camouflage with my pocketknife in my teeth and a wild look in my eyes and no one will dare stop me!!!

Reaching for Summer: Broccoli Rabe Pesto

Man, have I been in a dinner rut lately.  Anyone else?  I think it's the time of year: I'm mentally done with winter, but spring is still teasingly out of reach.  And I don't want to put down any groundhogs with regard to weather predictions, but I'm not sure I agree with their scientific method.

Happily, I came across some frozen broccoli rabe pesto I made with last year's CSA bounty from Waltham Fields.  I'm a big proponent of making pesto out of any and all green things: basil, mint, parsley, cilantro, garlic scapes, garlic mustard growing wild in our yard.  However, broccoli rabe had not been a pesto ingredient in our kitchen until last year, when I saw a recipe in Food & Wine's cookbook Reinventing the Classics.  It's a cookbook I'm really enjoying and will likely reference again--lots of sprightly seasonal dishes as well as some good recipes for the shiitakes I grow.  The recipe for delicata squash stuffed with quinoa salad was a particularly good find, and you know I have little patience for squash and/or quinoa. 

I'm happy to have another use for broccoli rabe since it's one of my favorite greens (I say greens because the kind I get from my CSA tends to be leafy and short on florets).  This pesto was delicious the first time around with prosciutto and ricotta ravioli from DePasquale's Pasta Shoppe in the North End.  It was also super tasty the second time around on thin spaghetti with sweet Italian sausages from the unrelated DePasquale's sausage shop in Newton and some broccolini of unknown origin.  (If your kid sees broccolini in the store and wants some because he likes the name, well, by god, buy the broccolini!!!)  Earthy and bright, this pesto was a little bit of summer sunshine after what I hope will be the last snowfall of the winter. 


Broccoli Rabe Pesto

1/3 cup walnuts
1/2 lb. broccoli rabe, trimmed
1 garlic clove
1/3 cup plus 1 Tbsp. olive oil
Pinch crushed red pepper
1/3 cup Pecorino
Kosher salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Spread walnuts in a pie plate and toast for 8 minutes until golden and fragrant (or toast them in a dry pan over low heat, tossing frequently, about 4-5 minutes).  Let cool.

In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the broccoli rabe until tender, about 3 minutes.  Drain and let cool under cold water.  Squeeze out excess water and coarsely chop.

In a food processor, mince garlic.  Add walnuts and pulse until coarsely chopped.  Add broccoli rabe and crushed pepper and process until finely chopped while adding oil slowly through the feed tube.  Add 1/3 cup Pecorino and pulse until just combined.  Scrape into bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Freeze or serve by boiling 3/4 to 1 lb. pasta in salted water.  Drain, reserving 3/4 cup of the pasta water.  Toss pasta with pesto and reserved water until well coated.

Source: Adapted from Reinventing the Classics by Dana Cowin and the editors of Food & Wine.

Finally: Primal Picnics

Guess what just arrived in my mailbox today?  A copy of Primal Picnics, that food fable anthology I mentioned way back when, which features a story by yours truly.  It represents the first time I've been published in a book.  Hopefully, it won't be the last. 

For those of you who pre-ordered the book oh about a year ago, all I can say is patience truly is a virtue.  If you didn't, I hear there are more copies available right now.  Go get one if you want it.  If you buy it through this link to Amazon, 6% goes to my kid's school, but I'll understand if you'd rather order it through your local independent bookstore like Back Pages Books in Waltham where the old Jordan's Furniture used to be (pssst...Alex).

Anyway, if you read it, do report back with comments on the book as a whole and your favorite stories.  And don't say mine.  If you say mine, I'll know you're just trying to increase your odds of winning the next raffle.  However, if you were to, say, write a review of the book on Amazon, preferably positive, I'm not going to say it will help you win any raffles, but it certainly couldn't hurt!

Eat Tweet Winner

Sorry for the delay in announcing the Eat Tweet winner, but I had a hard time reaching a decision.  Not to mention the fact that I had to count all the characters in each entry to make sure no more than 140 were being used.  Rules are rules.  But even though we had rather few entries for this contest (way to make it look like I have no readers in front of a big publisher, guys!), the entries themselves were very good.  Shall we meet the contestants?

First, there was Jennifer of Palavering who was hoping to harness spring with bright yellow sun-shaped macarons.  I don't know about the Netherlands, but she sure summoned some sunshine over here!

Sft 225g pwdsug+125g almd ml/Bt 100g egwht+28g sug til ~stf pks/+clr/fold almd+sug til ~taffy/pipe1cmOs/rest 30min/bk@300 15min/fill w/gnche

Then there was this lovely potato leek soup by Kendra:

Saut3clvgar1yelOn3slcd lksTil crmlzd ad 6Cvgstck+7pot, cvr, whnboil smmr adS+P+dill or Tsp liqsmk Whn potRsoft blnd w/stckblndr srvw/SrCrm

A wonderful red lentil soup by Louisa:

1c splt red lentils + 2c water : boil. + ~1c chppd kale, simmr 10-15 min, smash w/spoon, +salt/pepper/juice of .5lime/.5 c coconut milk

Stuffed dates by Dena of Oh! You Cook!:

Mix 8ozs. whipped cream cheese, 2T powdered sugar & 2t lemon j, spoon into pitted dates, decorate w/4T sliced or whole almonds.

Spicy squash soup by Colleen:

Sauté 2C onion+4T oil/Add 2t coriander,1 paprika&cumin,½ turmeric,¼ s&p, 4C chx broth, 2lb peeled squash/Simmer&Puree/Finish w/¼C honey.

And, finally, CookieCrumb from I'm Mad and I Eat shared her saucy recipe for SpagBol:

Make spaghetti; make sauce. Put sauce on spaghetti.

Each of these micro-recipes had their charms so, in the end, I left it up to chance.  And the winner is...Louisa!  Congratulations and thanks to all who played with me.  As for the rest of you, I suggest you make some soup!

Eat Tweet and Lamb Tagine

I think it's reasonable to be skeptical about a cookbook based on Twitter.  After all, 140 characters would barely even cover the ingredient list of the most basic recipe.  But that is the beauty and the charm of Eat Tweet by Maureen Evans (known as @cookbook on Twitter).  Not only does she convey the ingredients and amounts for more than 1,000 recipes, but she is able to work within that space constraint to communicate the techniques as well, albeit in their simplest, most condensed form.  An example:

Honey Tagine
Brwn lb choplamb/2T buttr/t dryging&turmeric&cinn&s+p; +2c onion&carrot 9m; +c Stock/3T honey/9pitdprune. Cvr~h@400F 

We made this for dinner the other night.  I browned a pound of chopped lamb in 2 Tbsp. of butter and a teaspoon each of dried ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, salt, and pepper.  Then I added 2 cups each of chopped onions and carrots and cooked for 9 minutes or so.  I added a cup of chicken stock, 3 Tbsp. of honey, and 9 pitted prunes, and then braised the whole thing in a 400°F oven, covered, for an hour.  The result was tender, succulent lamb in a sweet, warmly spiced sauce, fabulous over cous cous with cucumber raita on the side.  (The prunes are delicious here, adding sweetness and depth, so don't omit them—just maybe don't eat all 9 in one sitting if you know what I'm saying.)

Evans' training as a poet shows in her thoughtful use of language, as does her range in the kitchen.  Recipes for pot roast and pizza lie alongside Irish colcannon, Mexican migas, Italian fennel pie, Indian brown dal, pad Thai, even Julia Child's famous boeuf bourguignon—worldly recipes communicated with surprising clarity.  Part of the fun is figuring out the code.  I love a good puzzle (as evidenced by the nearly 400 Twitter cryptograms I've created at codeSparrow), and this book makes me want to convert all my recipes to 140-character shorthand just for fun. 

But why is this useful?  Well, for one, you can fit a lot more information into a small space that way.  Eat Tweet is like three cookbooks in one, and a small one at that.  Spending a weekend at a remote cabin with no internet access?  You have the inspiration of a thousand practical recipes in your back pocket.  It's a handy guide for cooks like me who like to flip through for ideas or to remind myself of ingredient ratios.  Plus, without all those extra words, you can really get to the heart of a recipe.  You see all the essential parts in tight focus—the rest can be improvised. 

Of course, space limitations have their cons.  Many novice cooks will likely find the lack of detail frustrating.  How big of a pot do you need?  Do you chop the onions or slice them?  But if you look at cooking as an adventure, you will find that you gain confidence in the kitchen through experience.  Most recipes can work lots of ways, not just one.  Think of the format as the scaffolding on which to develop your own cooking style.  In fact, I think this book would make a fun (and inexpensive) graduation present for hungry college seniors about to be unleashed upon the world.  Note to college seniors: you should have plenty of time to cook!

In that spirit, Artisan has graciously agreed to gift one copy of Eat Tweet to a lucky FotF reader.  Here's how to win: condense a favorite recipe into 140 characters or less and post it in the comment section (spaces count as characters).  How you condense it is up to you, as long as it's comprehensible.  See example above.  Recipes will be graded on clarity, potential deliciousness, and creativity.  You don't have to be on Twitter, like Twitter, or even know what Twitter is to win.  Good luck.  You have until Wednesday.

Local Ingredient Sources:
Lamb: Chestnut Farm, Hardwick, MA
Onions, carrots: Red Fire Farm, Granby, MA
Honey: Reseska Apiaries (Golden Meadow), Holliston, MA

Cookbook Winner and Consolation Cupcakes

Wow, guys, you don’t make things easy for a ruthless dictator, do you?  So many great stories about Flour Bakery, from weddings saved by doughnuts and brioche, to a cross-continental flight undertaken in the name of sticky buns, even a brush with celebrity.  In the end, and after much deliberation, I declare Manasi the winner of the Flour cookbook for demonstrating a deep and long-abiding love for the bakery, which remains as such despite the fact that she is now stuck in med school out in Worcester.  A worse fate, I cannot imagine.  Get this girl some sticky buns stat!

As for the rest of you, I have the recipe for Flour’s popular chocolate cupcakes, which I hope will distract you from any coups.  I let the 5YO select today’s recipe since he is the keeper of all of my dessert cookbooks in a stack next to his bed.  That is actually how he learned to read—by flipping through cookbooks with me, learning the correct pronunciations for “ganache,” “brioche,” and “meringue” (though, for the latter, I much prefer his own interpretation, “mangaroo”). 

The 5YO was particularly taken with the photo of these cupcakes and what was billed as “crispy magic frosting.”  I’ll admit, I was, too.  They turned out fantastic and they have since superseded all others as our go-to cupcake and frosting recipe.  I have a feeling this is going to make at least one of my readers (hi Marika!) very happy!


Flour Bakery’s Chocolate Cupcakes with Crispy Magic Frosting

Cupcakes
2 oz. unsweetened chocolate, chopped
¼ cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 cup granulated sugar
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1/3 cup water
½ cup milk
1 egg
1 egg yolk
½ tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. kosher salt

Frosting
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 egg whites
1½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cut into chunks
1 2/3 cups confectioner’s sugar
¼ tsp. kosher salt
2 Tbsp. milk
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract

In a small heatproof bowl, combine the chocolate and cocoa powder.  In a small saucepan, heat the granulated sugar, butter, and water over medium-high heat, whisking occasionally, for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the butter is melted and the sugar is dissolved.  Pour the hot butter-sugar mixture over the chocolate-cocoa mixture and whisk until the chocolate is completely melted and the mixture is homogenous.  Whisk the milk, egg, yolk, and vanilla into the chocolate mixture until thoroughly combined.

In a bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until well mixed.  Dump the flour mixture on top of the chocolate mixture.  Whisk until are totally combined.  Let the batter sit for at least 1 hour at room temperature (or transfer to an airtight container and store in the fridge for up to 3 days).

Heat the oven to 350°F.  Butter and flour a standard 12-cup muffin tin, or line with paper liners.  Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin cups, dividing evenly and filling the cups just shy of the rim.  Bake 25-30 minutes, or until the tops spring back when pressed.  Let pan cool completely on a wire rack.

Meanwhile, in a small heatproof bowl or the top half of a double-boiler, whisk together the granulated sugar and egg whites to make a thick slurry.  Place over a saucepan of simmering water (not touching the water) and heat, whisking occasionally, for 3 to 5 minutes or until the mixture is hot to the touch.  Remove from heat and scrape the mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whip attachment (or use a handheld mixer).  Whip on medium-high speed for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the mixture becomes a light, white meringue and is cool to the touch.  Turn down the speed to medium and add butter, a few chunks at a time, beating for 3 to 4 minutes or until the butter is fully incorporated.  Add the confectioner’s sugar, salt, milk, and vanilla, and continue to beat on medium speed until the mixture is smooth and satiny.  You should have about 3½ cups.  Use immediately, or transfer to an airtight container and store at room temperature for up to 3 days, or in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.  (If storing, beat with a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment for a few minutes until smooth before using.)

Remove the cupcakes from the muffin tin.  Spread the frosting on the cupcakes with a spatula or fit a pastry bag with a small round or star tip, fill the bag with frosting, and pipe frosting onto the cupcakes.  They are best eaten immediately, but can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for 2 days.

Source: Joanne Chang’s Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston’s Flour Bakery + Café. 

Flour Power

Guess what I have in my hot little hands?  A copy of Joanne Chang’s recently released, much-anticipated cookbook, Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston’s Flour Bakery + Café.  I think I can speak for all of Boston when I say, yahoooooooo!!!!  Or whatever the hip, young people are saying these days.  W00t?

I have a soft spot for Flour Bakery having worked in the vicinity of the South End for several years.  I had a friend from culinary school who was employed there when it first opened and so I was treated to a mini-tour.  The space was not large—the tour took about two minutes, but it was just as charming as you might expect: heavy-duty mixers running at full throttle, neat, young apprentices painting things with chocolate, the smell of fresh baked bread warming the morning air.  Joanne was always as sweet as could be, odd given that new bakery businesses require early mornings and long hours.  Must have been all the sugar coursing through her veins.  Since then, two other Flour outposts have been opened in the Fort Point Channel (well, not actually in the channel) and Central Square.  Chang’s talents are also on display at Myers + Chang, the Asian diner she opened in the South End with her husband Christopher Myers.

This cookbook is substantial, heavy with the calories of nearly 150 of Chang’s favorite recipes.  Much has been made of her sticky buns, which emerged victorious when pitted against Bobby Flay’s version on the Food Network’s Throwdown!  Don’t worry—her secrets are well documented here.  So are scrumptious recipes for éclairs, cream-filled doughnuts, focaccia, croissants, brioche, tarts, muffins, cakes, and cookies galore.  I hope you like butter!

Chronicle Books was kind enough to send me two copies of this cookbook.  However, I’m keeping one for myself since the library says I need to give their copy back.  So, I’m raffling off one copy to a lucky reader.  Actually, we’re doing the raffle thing differently this time.  I’m going to pick the winner based on my favorite comment instead of leaving it up to random chance.  This blog is the only power I have and I’m going to wield it like a despot.  If I can’t decide between several excellent comments, I’ll randomly select a name from within that group with my iron fist briefly unclenched.  But only briefly.  To be considered, please leave a comment about a memorable experience you had at Flour or a story that revolves around something delicious you ate from Flour or, failing that, a story about flour.  I realize this gives local people an edge, but I figure those of you who know the bakery well will enjoy this book the most.  As a consolation prize for the rest of you losers, I’ll post a recipe from the book when I post the winner later this week. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  Go!

Raffle: Poor Girl Gourmet Cookbook

I promised to give you more background on that wonderful fall harvest salad I featured in my last post, and so I shall.  It came from a great new cookbook called Poor Girl Gourmet: Eat in Style on a Bare-Bones Budget written by local blogger and fellow poor girl, Amy McCoy.  Given the current economic climate, I can’t imagine a more timely and relevant topic.  McCoy knows that cutting back doesn’t have to mean eating poorly.  It might mean eating less or eating differently, but it shouldn’t have to mean eating crap food. 

On the contrary, McCoy makes cooking on a budget look like great fun, which it is, as well as downright classy (note the back section on budget wines).  She convincingly demonstrates that by planning and cooking your own meals, you really can save money and eat better (read: healthier and more enjoyably).  She even breaks down the estimated costs for you.  Orzo, sun-dried tomato, and walnut salad with feta: $2.61 per person.  Chicken, sausage, and kale soup: $3.28 per person.  Honey mustard- and cider-marinated pork spareribs with thyme-roasted carrots and buttery mashed potatoes: $3.05 per person.  She also offers realistic pointers for conserving some coin, like buying meat on the bone, shopping at ethnic markets, and buying fresh vegetables in season.  Warning: She seems to really like squash.

Poor Girl Gourmet is one of my favorite new cookbooks of the year and, as such, Andrews McMeel has agreed to donate two copies to be raffled off to you Food on the Foodies.  Can I call you that?  No?  Not even if I give you a free cookbook?  Okay, fine.  To be considered, simply leave a comment on this post about your own favorite “poor girl/boy” meal.  Doesn’t have to be fancy—peasant food is welcome, encouraged even.  And if you don’t win (and, let’s face it, most of you won’t), it’s a solid gift idea for any upcoming birthdays or end-of-year holidays that shan’t be named.  In the meantime, you have until Wednesday or whenever I feel like shutting this down.

Ready, set, go!

Autumn Harvest Salad

We spent the long weekend in New Hampshire and, yup, it’s definitely fall.  As if you couldn’t tell by: a) the calendar; b) the leaves; and c) the mounting winter squash situation.  Gourd after gourd after gourd after gourd…

I know you’re sick of hearing me complain about squash every fall, but, the truth is, I’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for squash.  Call me sentimental.  The secret, of course, is to find some recipes you really like.  I’m partial to my super-simple butternut squash bisque I contributed to Yankee Magazine some years back.  But in case you’re not willing to give in to soup season quite so soon, here’s a nice salad that eases the transition between summer and winter.  Not only does it use the last of your local lettuce and the beginnings of your winter squash, but it also features nuts, cranberries, blue cheese, bacon, and a tangy honey-sweetened dressing, making it possible to source most of the ingredients locally around here.

More about the fabulous cookbook from whence this recipe came in my next post.  But I’ll give you a hint: the local author writes a great food blog called Poor Girl Gourmet!

Harvest Salad with Honey-Balsamic Dressing

I substituted local blue cheese for the Gorgonzola and locally foraged black walnuts for the hazelnuts (more on the black walnuts later).

Squash
2-lb. acorn squash
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 Tbsp. packed brown sugar
Kosher salt
Black pepper

Dressing
¼ cup honey
2 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
¼ cup plus 2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Black pepper

Salad
3 cups (5 oz.) mixed baby greens, lettuce, or arugula
½ cup hazelnuts
¼ cup dried cranberries
4 slices of bacon
¼ cup Gorgonzola, crumbled

Preheat the oven to 375°F.  Cut the acorn squash in half lengthwise, pole to pole.  Remove and discard the seeds, and then cut each half crosswise into ½-inch-wide slices such that you have a lovely ripple effect from the ridges of the squash.  In a large bowl, mix together ¼ cup olive oil and brown sugar.  Add the squash and toss to coat, seasoning with salt and pepper. Transfer squash to 9 by 13-inch rimmed baking sheet, and bake, turning halfway through cooking time, about 30 minutes or until easily pierced with a fork.  Let cool 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together honey, mustard, and balsamic vinegar.  Whisk in ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil until well blended.  Season with salt and pepper and set aside.  Fry bacon until crispy, let cool on paper towels, and crumble.  Toast hazelnuts in dry frying pan 5-10 minutes, tossing frequently to prevent scorching, until lightly golden and fragrant.  Remove to plate to cool.

To arrange salad, place one quarter of the mixed greens on each of four plates.  Divide up the squash, nuts, cranberries, bacon, and cheese among the four salads, and drizzle a tablespoon or two of the dressing on top.  Serves 4.

Source: Adapted from Poor Girl Gourmet by Amy McCoy

Local Businesses Supported:
Squash, lettuce, arugula: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Honey: Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA
Dijon mustard: Raye’s Mustard, Eastport, ME
Bacon, black walnuts: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA
Cheese: Jasper Hill Farm, Greensboro, VT

Pickling Cookbook Winners

Wow, I learned so much about you guys (and pickles in general) from your comments on the last post.  For example, there seem to be a lot of us in love with pickled beets. I dare say we have good taste.  Calamity Jane of Apron Strings writes of the pickled fiddleheads and wild cucumber she made in her Alaskan kitchen.  Gillis raves about the Grillo’s Pickles cart on Boston Common (2 spears for $1 all summer at the Park St. T stop).  Bobbie fondly remembers the giant pickles on a stick at the Wisconsin State Fair.  Pengwenhsd once had a man propose to her upon tasting her homemade bread and butter pickles.  And the favorite jarred brand seems to be Claussen dills (a recipe for a homemade version is here).

But where people got downright poetic was talking about Jewish deli pickles. Fellow blogger Aimee of New To Farm Life writes:

“I'm a pickle fanatic and it is hard to pick just one. But as I was thinking about it, a pure and perfect memory came back to me. I'm about seven years old, and we've gone to New York to visit my grandparents. Mom has dragged us kids around museums all day and we are ravenously hungry. We go into a real old-fashioned New York delicatessen to pick up food to eat on the train home. I've never been in a place like this (West Coast child) and am stone cold fascinated by the deli case with its bright salads, slabs of fish, a hundred kinds of cheese. Up on top of the counter, above my head, is a gigantic glass crock full of equally gigantic pickles. I point it out to brother and sister and we set up a ruckus, clamoring for pickles. The pickles, when we get them, are so big we can't close our fists around them, and they are so briny and crisp and delicious my mouth fills up with water. I can remember everything about those pickles - the snap they made when we bit into them, the warty cool skin of them, the cloudy brine in the jar swirling with garlic and spices. Most of all I remember the feeling of being small and curious, wide-eyed in a new place, with my mother beside me, teaching me, showing me, interpreting the world for me.”

What a fabulous pickle story! 

Reader Ashley writes of her grandmother’s pickles:

“My grandma made the best dill pickles. They were left in their brine on the porch of her bungalow in the Catskills, the center of summer life for Jewish New Yorkers escaping the city heat. The pickles had much of the old country in them, with a garlicky bite and ultra-satisfying crunch. The perfect refreshing summer snack, though I often ignored my mom's warnings, gorged on the salty treats, and woke up in the middle of the night parched.”

Mmmmmm.  Can anybody else use a drink right now?

There were even some requests for other readers’ pickle recipes (some of these requests are my own):

1. Millie’s carrot and daikon radish recipe;
2. The refrigerator half-sour recipe from Pickledbeets; and
3. The pickled shiitake recipe from the Momofuku cookbook that Louisa mentioned (though I just helped myself to that recipe from this fine blog).

So good work, people.  I wish I had 30 cookbooks to give out.  Do we have 30 cookbooks to give out, Storey?  Just kidding.  (Unless we do.) 

In order to be fair, and instead of writing names on pieces of paper and making Husband pull them out of a box like I’ve done in the past, I used a random number generator to pick the number of the winning commenters.  And the winners of a copy of Put 'Em Up by Sherri Brooks Vinton are:

16. Pickledbeets

26. Kate

Winners, I will be in touch.  For the rest of you, don’t worry, there will be other raffles in the future.  I won’t rest until everybody’s won something good.

Get Your Pickles On!

Okay, people, I’m feeling generous again.  Now that school is out and it’s officially summertime, I have pickling on my mind.  Even more so since I started flipping through the new book Put ‘Em Up by Sherri Brooks Vinton, a charming ode to canning, pickling, and other methods of putting food by.  An excerpt:

“…Home food preservation is a natural progression of the Real Food Revival—our increasing demand for food that is grown the way it should and used to be.  We want food that’s good for the farmer, the environment, and ourselves.  Putting up food is part of this passion.  It’s part of coveting the harvest so much that you can’t let it slip through your fingers so fleetingly.  It’s part of cherishing the work of local growers or your own toil in the backyard and wanting to hold on to some aspect of that even when fields lie fallow.”

Well, not so much my own toil.  I prefer to cherish other people’s toil, but I get her point.  Plus pickling is like tasty time travel.  Not only does it yield a healthful, homemade snack, but it also allows you to return to a moment, a place, a memory—whether it’s the sunny spot where you picked your own summer beans or the rainy morning when you finally decided to bite the bullet and boil some jars.  You get to remember those simple pleasures many months down the road while eating something delicious that you thoughtfully put aside for yourself.

This book is a great introduction to the art of freezing, drying, brining, canning, and otherwise storing your bountiful summer produce for later enjoyment.  Included are recipes for quick and fermented pickles, like dilly beans, pickled beets, and sauerkraut.  Other recipes that had me daydreaming: cherry and black pepper preserves, spicy peach salsa, sweet pepper marmalade, charred chili barbecue sauce, fennel and onion jam, rhubarb jelly, roasted pepper ketchup, and watermelon granita.  Plus it has such cute pictures of hand-labeled jars.  Adorable!

So here’s the deal.  Storey Publishing, a nice little publisher out in western Mass., will give away two cookbooks, one to each of two lucky readers.  And all you have to do is regale me with a story about the best pickle you ever had in the comment section.  That’s right, one more homework assignment before you’re off for the summer.  But if you win, you have to promise you’ll actually make something out of the book.  No entering yourself in the lottery and then letting the book sit on a shelf.  I’ll walk over there and take it back.

Okay, enough with the empty threats.  You have until sometime on Sunday.  Ready, set, go!

Weird Heirloom Vegetables

Today, I have a special guest blogger for you: author Novella Carpenter.  She’s an urban farmer based in Oakland, CA, where she raises vegetables, fruit, chickens, honey bees, rabbits, and dairy goats in the middle of the city.  Novella will be reading from her book, Farm City (now out in paperback), at Porter Square Books in Cambridge this coming Monday, June 7 at 7 p.m., so be sure to stop by for some funny farm stories and a seed give away.  Take it away, Novella…

I can’t help it, I like weird stuff. Like boyfriends who lie in the middle of the floor at a dinner party. Like cats with white paw pads. Like weird fruits and vegetables not available in fine stores. I’ve made it a point to collect strange fruit. I have a Seville orange tree (it’s small and I’ve still yet to get a nary a sour orange off of it). I have a sour cherry tree (we got enough cherries last year for one mind-blowing pie). Every year I graft some antique apple variety to my poor overburdened apple tree (this year it was a Winter Banana).  

Vegetables are no different; I will often wander around ethnic farmers markets with my tongue hanging out. “What is this?” I’ll ask the old ladies nearby, and they will patiently explain about taro root or chayote tendrils. A friend from Los Angeles came to visit and brought seeds for the famous giant radish of Oaxaca. I was so excited, it was as if she had brought me a suitcase full of money. This spring has been a busy one, and I’ve planted some weird vegetables that I wanted to share with you. 

Crapaudine beets (Beta vulgaris)

My sister, who lives in France, was laughing her ass off about this one when she sent me some seeds. We’re into that kind of toilet humor, and she thought maybe the etymological roots signaled that these beets were a, um, stool causer. My sister is always sending me some ancient Roman vegetable information, and these beets were apparently the original beet back in those days, before they became all rounded or striped inside.

Of course, I planted a whole bed of them. After 60 days, the leaves were looking amazing and strong so I went to harvest some for my little farm stand. This is what came out.

So that’s where the name comes from: crappy. No one bought the beets at the farm stand, and so I was left to deal with them. Being thrifty, I recognized the value of those leaves. So I made some beet chips out of them. It was easy, I just tossed the leaves in olive oil, put them in an oven at 350 degrees and cooked them for 7 minutes. They get all green and flat, perfect for tossing with salt and nutritional yeast.  

Next, I had to deal with the pathetic beetroot. I just dropped them into boiling water for a few minutes. I had very low expectations. Turned out, the thin-yucky skin slipped off to reveal a gorgeous mini-carrot-like thing.

The crapaudine beets actually tasted great! Very sweet, more like a carrot than a beet. They had a velvety texture and were lovely in a green salad tossed with boiled eggs. Thanks, Sister! I’ll never grow them for market, though.  

Bleu de Solaise leeks (Allium porrum)

Someone dumped two flats of leeks on my boyfriend. He fixed her truck, and the truck had the leeks inside—and she asked, “Does Novella want them?” Yes, Novella does. She likes free things, especially when they are heirloom leeks. These leeks, true to their name, are blue. Like that violet-y blue that is almost hallucinatory next to the dark earth. Two trays of leeks is a lot of leek. I had enough to sell at my farm stand—and enough to make leek confit.   

Confit always sounds so fancy. But in the leek confit case, it just meant that I braised the leeks in butter in a low oven for an hour. The leeks just fall apart and become gooey and caramel-y sweet. I like to use them to make leek soup (just add stock) or a leek tart (make a crust). Baby! What’s great about heirlooms like the Bleu de Solaise, is you can save the seeds and you’ll get the same beautiful blue leeks year after year.

Rampicante zucchini (Cucurbita moschata)

There’s a seed company called Baker Creek that is perfect for novelty freaks like myself. The catalog did lead me astray with a couple orders—like the Southeast Chinese cucumbers or the Thai Tigger melons that are never going to grow in foggy Northern California. Still, I love Baker Creek’s line-up. So far, I have one freak that is thriving: the rampicante zucchini.

I was drawn to it because the ad copy promised that I could eat the young squash like zucchini, and if it got older, I could eat it like winter squash. This would really solve the problem of too-far-gone zucchini, right? I also liked the name, but later heard rampicante is synonymous with the more well-known tromboncino, which I think I grew four years ago. It was just okay. Fooled again.  

Alrighty, I’m off to scan the nurseries for weird heirlooms like white tomatoes, padrone peppers, and some freaky perennial spinach.

You can read more from Novella on her blog, Ghost Town Farm.