FOOD ON THE FOOD

The Next Chapter

Well, hello, dear readers. Fancy seeing you still here. I know I’ve been a very bad food blogger lately. My posts are sporadic and not very interesting, recipes are few and far between, and there’s hardly any swearing at all. What gives?

OK, I’ll come clean. I’ve decided to retire Food on the Food.

I’ve been wrestling with this for a while. This is my 10th year blogging, and that’s an eternity in internet years. In fact, it’s the longest job I’ve ever had. It was also my favorite job. Sure, the pay stunk, but what else is new? Instead of raking in the dough, I raked in the doughnuts. There’s something to be said for alternative currencies.

When I first started FotF, I was a brand new parent grappling with my untested role as a mother while trying to conserve a piece of my pre-mom psyche. This blog was my sole creative outlet, a place to experiment with my writing, my food, and myself. It always made me feel free. Writing is a somewhat selfish act for me, so I was surprised when other people starting reading too. I really enjoyed this newfound audience—any writer would—but the truth is I still would have written for an audience of one.

Over the years, the blog saw me through some tough times. It also brought incredible opportunities my way, like the chance to write a cookbook, which I enthusiastically embraced (and then another book). I got to be on NPR's All Things Considered. And I wrote a cover story for Fine Cooking magazine. It also brought me the chance to be on a Food Network reality show, which I declined. (That's just not me no matter how you slice it.)

Now I find myself in the role of a more experienced parent, author, cook, teacher, and, against all odds, gardener. More things are competing for my attention now, and I feel like I need to let go of some of the old in order to experience more of the new. And I know this is weird coming from the girl who hates change, but change is coming whether I like it or not. It’s time.

I’m excited to find out what’s next. I hope to write lots of new stories in new ways. Maybe not about food. Maybe further afield. I don’t have any idea what the future holds, but I’m going to keep an open mind. I was very lucky to be able to do what I love for 10 years, and there’s no reason to believe I won’t continue to do what I love for 10 more. I’ll keep the blog up and searchable for the foreseeable future, so don’t panic if you haven’t printed out your favorite recipes yet (but don’t wait too long!).

Thanks so much for reading, whether it was for all 10 years or just the past 10 seconds. I enjoyed sharing my life with you (from a safe distance). I hope you all continue to cook, read, and live joyfully. Maybe drop me a line sometime and let me know how you’re doing. Life is short. Make it count. And eat well!

 

Chocolate Pumpkin Cookies

The 10YO has a new favorite dessert for fall: chocolate pumpkin cookies.

The recipe came from this year’s Whole Foods calendar (October 2015), but he made a few changes. For one, he asked to use the Extra Dark Chocolate cocoa because he takes after his mom. Then he eliminated the chopped up walnuts and dates from the recipe, because, well, he’s a kid. That’s fine, I said. If you’re the one doing the work, you can make them however you want.

The result is a deliciously soft chocolate spice cookie he’s made twice already: once before Halloween and once for his school’s Election Day bake sale at the local polling station last week. They’d be a great addition to your Thanksgiving smorgasbord as well.

Chocolate Pumpkin Cookies  

They're also good with the original 1 cup of chopped walnuts and 1 cup of chopped dates mixed into the batter.

2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup Extra Dark Chocolate cocoa powder (or regular)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 cup molasses
1/2 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 tablespoon demerara sugar (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking soda, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, and salt in a medium mixing bowl. Whisk together the molasses and pumpkin puree in a separate smaller bowl.

Beat the butter and sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer on medium-high until light and fluffy, 2-3 minutes. Beat in the egg, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients and wet ingredients alternately, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Mix until well combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Drop the batter in heaping tablespoonsful about 1 inch apart onto the prepared pans. Sprinkle with demerara sugar if desired. Bake until just firm around the edges, 12-14 minutes. Allow to cool slightly on baking sheets, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Makes about 3 dozen.

Source: Adapted from the 2015 Whole Foods calendar (October).

Perfect Paella

I have a good friend who lives in the south of Spain, and when we get together, she’ll often come bearing saffron.

Saffron is a spice made from the dried stigmas of a type of crocus flower that blooms in the fall. It’s the most expensive spice in the world due to the labor-intensive process of hand-plucking enough of the delicate threads to reach a commercially marketable weight. My friend might bring me a tiny tube with a cork stopper or a one-inch transparent box containing a tangle of the red, brittle filaments. I hoard them like gold.

Of course, the problem with hoarding spices is that they never actually get used. Meanwhile, their potency weakens over time. In the case of my saffron stash, this translates to a major devaluation. So now I've vowed to use my saffron whenever possible. Perhaps the most famous use is in Spain’s national dish: paella. In this one-pan meal, rice is scented with saffron and studded with an assortment of meat, seafood, and vegetables.

Here’s our favorite recipe. The kids gobble it up every time. The only thing they pick out are the artichokes, which are deposited directly onto my plate.

Paella  

If you don’t have saffron and don’t want to spring for it, don’t worry, the dish will still be delicious without it. Just increase the amount of paprika. But if you already have a saffron stash somewhere, stop hoarding it and use it!

1 lb. uncooked medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, shells reserved
1 quart chicken stock (or water)
2 Tbsp. olive oil
8 oz. chorizo, cut into bite-sized pieces
6 chicken thighs or drumsticks
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cayenne pepper
2 pinches saffron threads, crushed (about 1/4 tsp.)
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 green pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 large tomatoes, seeded and chopped
2 bay leaves
1-1/2 cups uncooked rice (short-grain rice is best, but long-grain will also work)
1 tsp. sweet or smoked paprika
14-oz. can artichoke hearts, drained, quartered
1 cup frozen peas, defrosted, drained
1 pound mussels, scrubbed, debearded
1 lemon, cut into wedges

Combine the shrimp shells and chicken stock (or water) in a pan, and simmer for 30 minutes while preparing the other ingredients.

Heat a large paella pan or your largest skillet over medium-high heat. Add the oil and sauté the chorizo until brown, about 5 minutes for precooked sausage, longer for the fresh variety. Meanwhile, season the chicken with salt, pepper, and cayenne to taste. Remove the chorizo to a plate when done. Add the chicken to the hot pan and brown it well, turning occasionally, for about 15 minutes. Add the chicken to the plate of chorizo and set aside.

Strain the shrimp shells from the broth and discard.  Add the saffron to the hot broth and let steep until ready to use.

To the large skillet, add the onion and green pepper, and sauté for several minutes. Add the garlic and continue to stir occasionally until the vegetables are soft and starting to brown, several minutes more. Stir in the tomatoes and bay leaves and cook another 3 minutes. Add the rice and stir until gently toasted, 1-2 minutes. Stir the shrimp-and-saffron-scented broth into the rice. Add the paprika, a teaspoon of salt, and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Stir and bring the mixture to a simmer.

Add the chicken and chorizo to the pan. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil, decrease the heat to low or medium-low, and simmer for 20-25 minutes, until the rice is just tender and most of the liquid is absorbed. (Check to make sure the rice on the bottom isn’t burning.) Scatter the artichokes and peas on top. Then press the shrimp and mussels into the hot rice. Cover again and cook 8-10 minutes more until the shrimp are cooked and pink and the mussels have opened. Discard any unopened mussels as well as the bay leaves. Serve with lemon wedges.

Source: Adapted from Kitchen Counter Cooking School by Kathleen Flinn

Smoked Bluefish

Earlier this summer, we were hanging out at Nickerson State Park by one of the kettle ponds. Husband’s brother was in town from Colorado, and the men were fishing while the boys and I swam. When we reconvened on the beach, an older man noticed the fishing poles and started talking to us. He’d brought his family to that campground every year for the past 20 years, and they liked to smoke trout, salmon, bluefish, whatever they could get their hooks or hands on from the nearby waters. Then he proceeded to outline his entire smoking process in great detail. An old Russian recipe, he said.

You can imagine how excited I was by this point in the conversation. Forget salmon, my head was swimming with notions of smoked bluefish. I had no note-taking apparatus apart from my feeble brain, but I wrote down as much as I could remember once we got back to our cottage rental. This is exactly the kind of puzzle I like to solve. A bunch of clues to work with, some mysterious unknowns, and the vague promise of dinner.

Back home with my charcoal grill, I got right down to business. The recipe below is what I did. It’s not an exact replica of that old family recipe, but a close accounting of what I remember from the conversation, plus some smoking tips from the Internet (specifically Dave’s Cupboard, Barefoot Kitchen Witch, and Hunter Angler Gardner Cook), and my own personal additions. No smoker necessary. The technique is for a regular old charcoal grill. The resulting fish came out so well, I couldn’t even believe it. Neither could Husband. It was great smoky fun for an afternoon (and evening, as I found myself outside in the dark at 9 pm with a headlamp unsure of how to tell when the fish was done).

A hearty thank you to the man on the beach. I hope he will forgive me—I don’t think we ever exchanged names, but I owe him a bottle of vodka.


Smoked Bluefish

This works for salmon, trout, or whatever other fish you feel like smoking. For wood chips, my source recommended alder, but I couldn’t find it so I used hickory instead.

Brine
1 quart cold water
1/2 cup kosher salt
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. black peppercorns
2 bay leaves

1-lb. fillet of bluefish (or more!)
Freshly ground black pepper
4 cups wood chips (like alder, hickory, or apple), soaked in water

In a large baking dish or gallon-size resealable storage bag, stir together all the brine ingredients until the salt dissolves. Rinse the fish well and submerge it in the brine. Refrigerate 4-48 hours until ready to smoke. The brine adds flavor and keeps the fish moist during the smoking process, not to mention helping with preservation.

Pat the fish dry and let it sit in the refrigerator for several hours so the surface dries out further. This step enables the smoke to adhere to the outside of the fish forming a flavorful pellicle. That’s what they call the shiny, dark, lacquer-like surface of properly smoked fish. I’ve read that you know your fish is dry enough when the surface feels slightly tacky, but mine never felt more than just dry and it came out fine. The point is, you don’t want to smoke a wet piece of fish or it won’t turn out as smoky as you want.

Smoke the fish at 200°F for the first hour, then 150°F for the next 2-3 hours until done. For a charcoal grill, you need to get your coals started at least an hour ahead of time, maybe two, in order to give them time to cool to the right temperature. I filled my chimney starter less than halfway up, lit them, let them ash over for 20 minutes, then spread the ashy coals on one side of the grill. I replaced the grate, adjusted the bottom vent so it was halfway closed, and replaced the lid, making sure the top vent was fully open. I inserted a thermometer through the top vent to keep track of the temperature, and when it was 225°-230°F, I added 6 or 7 more coals, and a handful of wet wood chips over the top. Then I sprinkled black pepper over the fish and put it on the other side of the grate away from the coals for indirect heat, skin side down, and closed the lid.

I watched the temperature creep slowly back up to around 200°F. Then I’d check the heat every 15 or 20 minutes. If it went over 200°F, I’d close the bottom vent a bit. If it got too cool, I’d open the bottom vent a bit. (If you close the bottom vent entirely, you’ll put the fire out, so open up the lid and double check that the vent is still partly open if you're not sure.) When the smoke stopped coming out of the top vent, I added a handful of wood chips on top of the coals. Every hour or so, I added more new coals to the pile to keep the heat going. Oh yeah, and you want to do all this while opening the grill lid as infrequently as possible to prevent the giant influxes of oxygen that stoke the heat. There’s an art to this, and I’m still learning, but this worked for me. The heat stayed between 150°F and 220°F for four hours, until the fish felt firm but not dried out like jerky. For food safety reasons, you want the internal temperature of the fish to reach 160°F at some point in the cooking process. Consider that my disclaimer.

Smoked fish will last up to 2 weeks in the fridge, but ours was gone long before then. Eat it on toasted baguette with goat cheese, red onion, capers, and dill. Flake it onto salads. Make a sandwich. Or paté. Mix it with pasta. Serve it over curried rice. It’s delicious!

Pickled Peppers

Peter Piper is a big fat liar. No way did he pick a peck of pickled peppers. The pickling is a whole other step! Who’s responsible for fact-checking these pre-Internet memes?

Luckily, the pickling process is pretty simple, and you can start pickling your hot peppers at the beginning of dinner prep and have them ready by the end. This particular recipe for quick-pickled cherry peppers is my favorite so far. These are the hots I used on last week’s Italian grinders and they’re also great in antipasto salads and on grilled summer burgers. I highly recommend them.

(BTW, my sources confirm that "she" actually does sell seashells by the seashore, but she doesn’t make very much money due to her poorly-thought-out business plan.)

Pickled Cherry Peppers  

This process works for any kind of hot pepper, such as jalapeños and serranos, though you might find me sneaking in some coriander seeds in that case.

1 lb. hot cherry peppers
1-1/2 cups white vinegar (or white wine vinegar)
1/2 cup water
2 cloves garlic, peeled, mashed with the side of a knife
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. kosher salt

With a paring knife, cut a circle about 1/2 inch in diameter around each stem and pull off the tops. Most of the seeds should come out with them. Shake out the rest. Slice the peppers into rings (or keep them whole if you’re in a hurry or plan to stuff them with something like goat cheese).

In a small pot, combine the peppers rings, vinegar, water, garlic, bay leaf, and salt. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool to room temperature. Pour everything into a quart jar and keep refrigerated for about a month, pulling out pickled peppers as needed.

*Be sure to wash your hands very, very well after handling hot peppers, and do not under any circumstances touch your eyes.

Italian Grinders

Boy, it’s been a busy few weeks. The kids are just now winding down from all of their end-of-school activities: final exams, the middle school’s rendition of Mary Poppins, the Little League baseball playoffs, and band and orchestra concert season, which culminated in a whirlwind school trip to New York City and Philadelphia by bus over the course of 2.5 days. (Thank goodness for the Serial podcast.)

Needless to say, meals have been an afterthought. It’s basically just been sandwiches for dinner until further notice. But I happen to think an Italian grinder is a perfectly good dinner. Here’s how to make one at home just like the sub shops.

Italian Grinders

Bake 4 hoagie rolls in a 375°F oven for 3 minutes until the tops are gently toasted. Split the rolls lengthwise, keeping them attached on one side. Top each roll with 3-4 slices of mortadella (or ham), 4-5 slices of capicola (or prosciutto), 4-5 slices of Genoa salami (or pepperoni), and 3-4 slices of provolone. If you get a half-pound of each cold cut, you’ll have plenty. Bake the open-faced sandwiches for 5 minutes until the cheese melts. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and dried oregano. Pile on your choice of toppings: sliced tomatoes, chopped pickles, sliced onion, hot peppers, and shredded iceberg lettuce. Drizzle each sandwich with a bit of red wine vinegar and olive oil. Then close them up. (I find this easier to do with the back of a long knife pressing everything down while I fold each sandwich up, otherwise the condiments tend to escape. Just be careful sliding out that knife.) Devour.  

Boston Cream Puffs

The 12YO asked if I would make cream puffs over the weekend. I haven’t made cream puffs in ages—maybe since culinary school—but he had read about them in a book recently and developed a craving, so I said sure.

I probably should have asked what he was envisioning first. I don’t think he’s ever had a cream puff before, and sometimes the way things sound and the way things actually are don’t match up in a kid’s mind. Like the way Italian pastries always looked so good in the case to me when I was young, but then they usually turned out to be too dry and crumbly or not chocolaty enough and spiked with some unwelcome flavor like rum—blech! (I like rum now, but I was always super-bummed-out by rum as a kid because it detracted from the pure chocolate flavor I loved so much.)

Maybe that’s why I decided to put chocolate on these cream puffs. Or maybe because he loves Boston cream doughnuts (like mother, like son). Or maybe because we’re from Boston. Either way, they were all gone in 48 hours, mostly due to the 12YO’s winning argument that I should allow him to eat them for breakfast because they’re practically doughnuts. Touché!


Boston Cream Puffs  

These are just like little éclairs, just a touch sweeter to appeal to the young at heart. Reserve the leftover egg whites in the freezer for pavlova. Makes about 16.

Filling
1/2 cup granulated sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 tsp. salt
4 large egg yolks
1-1/2 cups milk
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Dough
1 cup water
1/2 cup unsalted butter
3/4 tsp. salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
4 eggs, beaten

Glaze
3 oz. semisweet chocolate chips
1/3 cup heavy cream

To make the filling, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a medium saucepan until uniformly powdery. Add the yolks and whisk until smooth. Add 1/4 cup of the milk and whisk until combined, then whisk in the rest of the milk. Place the pan over medium heat. Cook, whisking constantly, until thickened like pudding, 7 to 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and add the butter, whisking until smooth. Stir in the vanilla extract. Transfer the custard to a bowl and cover with plastic wrap pressed up against the surface of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming. Poke a few holes in the plastic with the tip of a paring knife to let out steam. Chill until firm, at least two hours.

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line two sheet pans with parchment paper.

In a medium saucepan, combine the water, butter, and salt, and bring to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat and add the flour. Stir the mixture with a wooden spoon (it will resemble mashed potatoes) and return the pan to medium heat. Stir vigorously to dry out the mixture until it is shiny with small beads of butter (3 to 4 minutes). Remove from the heat and transfer the mixture to a bowl to cool for 5 full minutes so the eggs don't scramble.

Reserve a tablespoon of beaten egg in a small bowl. Add the rest of the eggs in four parts to the dough, beating well after each addition with an electric mixer or a strong arm until fully incorporated. Spoon tablespoons of dough onto the prepared pans spaced at least two inches apart (you can also use a piping bag with a plain tip, but I’m much too lazy for that). Brush the tops with the reserved egg. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until the dough is puffed, golden-brown, and dried. Remove from the oven and poke a hole in the side of each puff with a toothpick to let the steam out while they cool.

When ready to assemble, make the glaze. Pour the chocolate chips into a small bowl. Heat the cream to a simmer and then pour it over the chocolate chips. Let stand for 1 minute and then stir (not too fast) with a spoon until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is completely smooth.

Carefully cut the puffs in half across the equators with a serrated knife, but keep the halves paired up. Fill the puffs with custard and replace the tops so the filling is hidden inside. You might be tempted to overfill them, but keep in mind that you need some airspace inside to keep the filling from squeezing out everywhere when you eat them. Spoon some chocolate glaze over the tops (if the ganache has solidified too much, heat it gently in the microwave for 10 to 20 seconds and stir until loosened). Refrigerate the puffs until the chocolate is set. Store in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 days.

Cod, Fennel, and Saffron Stew

Only one more week until my book deadline, so let’s keep this brief. If you happen to have a tiny little box of saffron in your spice collection, you don’t have to wait for paella to use it. Here’s a really fast and easy soup you can make with your favorite white fish. It’s warm and wonderful.

Cod, Fennel, and Saffron Stew  

Serve with crusty bread or potatoes, roasted or mashed.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1-1/2 lbs. cod fillets or other white fish, cut into large chunks
2 shallots, thinly sliced
1 fennel bulb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 carrot, sliced into 1/2-inch coins
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
Pinch of saffron threads, crumbled
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup white wine
2 Tbsp. dry vermouth

In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the olive oil until shimmery hot. Add the shallots and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 2 minutes. Add the fennel and carrots, and sauté until light golden, about 5 minutes. Add the fish pieces and sprinkle with thyme, saffron, salt, and pepper. Add the water, wine, and vermouth, and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot and cook over low heat until the vegetables are tender and the fish is cooked through, about 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Ridiculously Good Fried Chicken

I hope everyone’s hungry for some Saint Paddy’s Day fried chicken!

Okay, you got me. We’re not really having fried chicken tonight—we’re having Irish boiled dinner, just as Husband’s Irish ancestors intended. But I have a big backlog of posts and none of them has an Irish theme, so fried chicken it is! We’re very loose with the schedule around here. You can still drink your green beer, though, so pipe down.

This recipe is based on my Southern grandmother’s version of fried chicken, with a few twists to make it my own. While you can deep-fry the chicken pieces until shatteringly crisp in a Fry-o-later or Dutch oven full of oil, I tend to use her shallow pan-frying technique instead, which uses far less oil. It still yields a crispy product, though I don’t fully understand how. It seems like covering the pan to finish the cooking would trap steam and make the coating soggy, but somehow it still stays plenty crisp. Huzzah! The kids love it.

Use a great-tasting, local-farm-raised chicken if you can for the best flavor. Then there's no need to brine the chicken ahead of time. Mashed potatoes and braised collard greens complete the meal. (See? I snuck some green in at the very end!)


Southern Fried Chicken  

My grandmother dipped the chicken pieces in beaten egg, but I like to use buttermilk. Or, if we’re out of buttermilk like we were last week, I thin some yogurt with milk. The spices are all to taste. Use what you like. I never make it the same way twice.

1 medium whole chicken, cut up, or 2-3 lbs. of your favorite parts, bone in, skin on
1/2 cup buttermilk (I use Kate’s)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/4 tsp. dried sage
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Dash of cayenne
1/4 cup vegetable oil

Rinse and dry the chicken parts, and sprinkle them with a little salt and pepper. Pour the buttermilk into a small bowl. In a medium shallow dish, combine the flour and all the seasonings. You can either use this bowl to bread the chicken pieces, or you can toss the mixture into a clean brown paper bag. I usually do the latter so I can shake them around. Two at a time, dip the chicken parts into the buttermilk and then dip them in the flour, moving the pieces around until they’re fully coated. Shake off the excess flour, then set them on a large plate until ready to fry.

In a large cast iron or other heavy bottomed frying pan, heat the oil until shimmery hot, but not smoking. Make sure the pan has a lid nearby, or borrow one from another similarly sized pan. Fry the chicken in two batches, about 4-5 minutes per side, until golden. Return all the chicken to the pan in one layer if possible, or stacked if necessary. Cover and reduce the heat to low. Cook for about 15 more minutes until cooked through to the bone. Transfer the chicken to a plate lined with paper towels and season with salt. Serve immediately. If there are leftovers, and there probably won’t be, don't heat them up in the microwave—use the oven or toaster oven instead to maintain the crispness.

*I’m not much of a gravy girl, but if you want gravy, here’s what my grandmother used to do. Pour off all but 1 Tbsp. of the oil from the pan. Over medium heat, whisk in 1 Tbsp. of any leftover flour mixture (or 1 Tbsp. new flour) and cook it for a minute. Then whisk in about half a can of evaporated milk (NOT condensed milk), whisking constantly to scrape up the brown bits and simmering until it reaches the desired consistency. (You could also use 1/2 cup regular milk—it'll just take longer to cook down to the right consistency, maybe 5-10 minutes). Season with salt and pepper, and any other seasonings you enjoy.

Caldo Gallego

We’re finally starting to thaw out around here. The snow piles have shrunk noticeably, and I just saw my first patch of grass yesterday where the snow had receded from the salt line along the street. Here’s hoping March’s early leonine behavior turns lambish right on schedule [though it’ll be a shame not to break Boston’s all-time snowfall record (107.9 inches) after coming within a mere inch or two].

I’m making soup and will continue to do so for the next few months. I won’t stop until all the chill is gone from the air. This particular soup is perfect for these transition months from winter to spring. It hails from Galicia, the northwest region of Spain where the landscape at this time of year resembles lush, rainy Ireland in seeming tribute to the area's medieval Celtic roots. As such, the food is appropriate for those raw, drizzly days when the wet wind cuts right through to your bones. This version uses canned navy beans, potatoes, collard greens, and a winning trifecta of pork. That is to say: bacon, ham, and chorizo.

You'd be wise to save your ham bones this Easter to make this great soup.


Caldo Gallego (Galician Sausage and Bean Soup)  

If you can find Spanish smoked paprika, like pimentón de la Vera, use that as it imparts a distinctly Spanish flavor. Otherwise, use regular sweet paprika and you’ll get some of that smoky flavor from the chorizo.

1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 lb. bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (or regular paprika)
2 15.5-oz. cans of navy beans, well rinsed and drained
1 lb. chorizo, sliced
1 ham bone or 1/2-lb. smoked pork hock, skin scored
6 cups chicken stock or water
2 Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cubed
5 cups shredded collard greens (or turnip greens, kale, or escarole)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook for 5 to 7 minutes until crisp. Remove the bacon from the pot with a slotted spoon, and drain on paper towels. Set aside.

Pour off all but 2 Tbsp. of the bacon fat from the pot. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and paprika, and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly. Add the beans, chorizo, ham bone or hock, and stock, and increase the heat to high. While heating, prepare the potatoes and greens, and add them to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 1 hour. Remove the ham bone or hock, reserving the meat to shred and return to the pot. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately garnished with bacon.

Source: Inspired by Soup of the Day by Ellen Brown, who adapted it from Jose Garces of Amada in Philadelphia.

Mexican Lime Curd

If you want to taste sunshine without leaving the frosty confines of your ice house, have I got a recipe for you: Lime Curd.

Maybe initially that doesn’t sound very enticing. Perhaps it conjures up images of congealed proteins bathed in sour juices. If so, that’s entirely the wrong idea. Think of citrus curd as a smooth, luscious pudding packed with tartness. The bright acidity hits you like a smack of cold air while the generous butter content swaddles your tongue like a warm blanket. Lemon curd is usually what people swoon over, especially when Meyer lemons are in season. But I love limes, and I’m here to tell you that lime curd can do battle with lemon curd any day of the week.

First, a bit about limes. Supermarket limes are typically Persian limes. You can make lime curd with these limes and it will be delicious (in fact, there’s a recipe for curd using regular limes in my cookbook). But I had the great fortune to end up with Mexican limes the other day. Mexico grows two kinds of limes, the ubiquitous Persian limes I just mentioned and a slightly smaller native lime, a variety that is better known as the famous Key lime. Here in the States, when limes are labeled as Mexican limes, you’re usually just getting Mexican-grown Persian limes. But every once in a while, you’ll end up with Mexican-grown Mexican limes. You probably won’t even know it until you leave them on the counter for a while and instead of staying green (or turning brown), they turn yellow like lemons. These limes are more acidic and have a bracing complexity that's hard to resist. They are widely considered to be the very best limes by the people in charge of limes.

You know how crazy people get for Key lime pie, right? Well, this Mexican lime curd is like Key lime pie without the crust. You can just spoon it out of the jar for a spontaneous burst of happiness. It’s also good on biscuits, scones, or coconut macadamia shortbread (WINTERSWEET, p. 92). Mexican limes tend to be larger than Key limes, so it doesn’t take as many or as long to juice them, but the two are interchangeable.

This curd is magical. It is delightful. And it is yours.

Mexican Lime Curd  

I’d recommend organic limes for this recipe since you’ll be using the outer peel. If not, you’ll want to scrub them well. Also, just a note that the finished curd is bright yellow, not green. That’s no mistake. The color is influenced more by the egg yolks than the juice or zest.

1 Tbsp. finely grated lime zest (shiny outer part only, not the bitter white pith)
1 1/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs, well beaten
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice from 6 Mexican limes (or ~12 Key limes)
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter
Pinch of salt

Place a large bowl half-full of ice water near the stove. Next to that, set a wire-mesh strainer nested inside a medium metal bowl.

In a medium saucepan, rub the lime zest into the sugar with your fingers until moist and fragrant. Whisk in the beaten eggs and lime juice. Add the butter and salt, and set the pot over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until the butter melts and the mixture thickens, 5 to 10 minutes. Do not boil. Wait for when the mixture thickens to the consistency of a loose pudding. It should coat the back of a spoon, leaving a distinctive track when you run your finger through it. At this point, remove the pot from the heat.

Set the bowl with the strainer inside the ice bath, and quickly pour the curd through the strainer into the bowl, using a rubber scraper to force the curd through the sieve. (The ice bath halts the cooking and the strainer is insurance to remove any overcooked egg proteins that may arise. Be sure to scrape as much of the curd as possible off the underside of the strainer.)

Let the curd cool for a half hour before pouring it into small jars. The curd will thicken further and the flavor will intensify as it chills. Keep refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.

English Toffee

I bumped today’s exciting salad post in favor of something sweeter. What can I say, Cupid wasn’t really feeling the greens. He tried to shoot a head of lettuce at my face with his bow, but it bounced right off.

Anyway, it’s snowing again here in Boston. Another day, another blizzard, and I’m going to need something more powerful than love to help me heave all of this snow over the existing 10-foot snow banks. Something that will give me the strength and agility to do so in subzero wind chills while simultaneously dodging all of those dagger-like icicles hanging from the rooflines.

So consider this toffee recipe my form of blizzard insurance. With any luck, it’ll get me out there and back inside in under three hours. That it might also pass for something Valentine-y is purely coincidental.


English Toffee  

Sometimes I add 1/2 tsp. of vanilla to the toffee if I want a stronger, more butterscotchy flavor.

1 cup unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup sliced almonds, toasted
Pinch or two of coarse sea salt

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the butter, sugar, water, and salt. Stir constantly until the butter and sugar melt, and then stir occasionally until a candy thermometer reads 300°F. Remove from the heat and pour the mixture into an ungreased 13x9-inch pan.

Let the toffee sit undisturbed for 3 to 5 minutes until it stiffens a bit (don’t touch it with your fingers—it’s hot; you just want it stiff enough to hold the weight of the chocolate chips—set one on top and see if it sinks). Once the toffee has cooled a bit but still radiates heat, scatter the chocolate chips on top. Let them sit for 5 minutes to melt, and then spread the chocolate evenly over the toffee, all the way to the edges. Scatter the nuts on top, pressing gently to adhere. Sprinkle with sea salt. Let cool completely for several hours.

To remove the toffee from the pan, stab it with a butter knife near the corner to crack it and remove a piece. Continue to break off irregular pieces with your hands or remove the whole slab to a cutting board. Store the pieces in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Posole (Spicy Pork and Hominy Stew)

Our friend B is from Albuquerque, New Mexico. That means not only does he recognize all of the landmarks in Breaking Bad, but he also makes a mean posole. He makes this spicy pork and hominy stew every year for the holiday caroling party that he and his wife host, and every year they have to tear me away from the crock, even the times when it’s so spicy that my eyes burn and turn bloodshot and I break out into hives. I may look like a meth addict, but, fear not, it’s just a pepper problem. Half of my taste buds say yes, and the other half (along with my entire immune system) say nooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

This is my toned-down gringo version of posole. It has all the authenticity of the traditional dish with none of the pain. I add half of the pepper paste in the beginning of the cooking time. Later, I taste and tailor how much more I add at the end depending on how potent my particular peppers are. Then I serve more pepper paste at the table for people to customize their own bowls. Feel free to increase the peppers even more if you enjoy the sensation of a thousand Africanized bees attacking your face.

This recipe has become a huge hit with the whole family. Perfect for these frigid wintry nights.

Posole  

Hominy is a type of hard-kernel white or yellow corn that is precooked in an alkaline solution to remove the hull. The resulting kernels swell up to the size of garbanzo beans and they're equally tender. They add a mild, tortilla-like flavor to the stew. You can buy hominy in cans (Goya is one brand) in the ethnic section of the grocery store. You can also buy it frozen or dried. If dried, you will need to soak it overnight and expect a longer cooking time.

8-10 dried New Mexico chiles (look for big bags in the ethnic aisle of the store)
2-4 cups hot water
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 lb. pork shoulder (with or without bone)
1 large onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 Tbsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. dried oregano
3 cups chicken stock (or two cups plus one cup of beer)
1 bay leaf
1 29-oz. can hominy, strained and rinsed
Salt and black pepper to taste
Diced avocado, fresh cilantro, and sour cream for topping
(Other options: shredded cabbage, sliced radishes)

Place the dried chiles in a large bowl and cover them with hot water. Set a small plate on top to weigh them down if necessary. Let them soak 15-20 minutes until softened.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large Dutch oven. Dry off the pork shoulder with paper towels and season it with plenty of salt and pepper. Brown the pork on all sides over medium-high heat, letting it sit on one side without moving until browned, then repeat on the next side, then the next, etc.

While the pork is browning, remove the peppers from the soaking water (reserve the water). Pull off the stems and remove most of the seeds from the hot peppers. Be careful not to touch your eyes or any other sensitive areas with your hands while working with hot peppers. You only have to learn that lesson once. Add the peppers to a blender and pour in enough of the soaking water to allow the mechanism to puree the mixture smoothly. You want a fluid reddish-brown slurry with no chunks. Pour the pepper mixture into a small bowl and set aside.

Remove the pork from the pot and place it on a large plate. Reduce the heat to medium and immediately add the chopped onion. Sauté until the onions are translucent, about 4 minutes. Stir in the garlic and sauté until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the cumin and oregano and stir briefly. Then add the chicken stock (and beer, if you like). Drop in the bay leaf. Stir in about half of the hot pepper paste. Add the pork and its juices back to the pot and increase the heat.  Add enough of the reserved pepper soaking water that the cooking liquid comes halfway up the side of the meat. Reserve the rest of the soaking water in case you need to add more later. Cover the pot and reduce the heat to medium-low to maintain a low simmer. Cook until tender, turning the meat occasionally, for about 3 hours.

Add the hominy and continue to simmer, uncovered, for another hour or until the pork is practically falling apart. Remove the bay leaf. Transfer the pork to a cutting board and pull it apart into bite-sized chunks. Return the meat to the pot. Taste to determine if it needs more pepper paste. Add as much as you want, reserving some for the table. If the broth is too thick, you can thin it with some of the pepper soaking water. Season with salt and pepper. Serve the stew with the toppings of your choice. I like cilantro, diced avocado, and maybe a bit of sour cream.

[To make this dish in a crockpot, you can brown the meat on the stovetop (or skip that part). When you get to the fourth paragraph, just add all of the ingredients to the slow cooker. Cook according to the manufacturer’s instructions, adding the hominy during the last hour or two of cooking. Pick up at the fifth paragraph where it says: Remove the bay leaf.]

Shrimp Tostadas with Lime Crema

Ladies and gentleman, I present the 11YO's dinner debut.

The other day, my eldest son asked me to teach him how to cook. Come again, I said? He repeated that he wanted to learn how to cook.

My first thought, of course, was drugs. My god, he's only been in middle school for two weeks and already they've recognized his knack for science and dragged him into some kind of peer pressure underground meth lab type of situation. My eyes must have gone all big and scary because he slowly backed over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and pointed to its stacked contents.

Oh, wait. He means food.

In order to understand my reaction, you need only take a quick glimpse into my childhood where you would find me pretty much anywhere else but in the kitchen. Did I want to help peel the carrots, shuck the corn, wash the potatoes? No, I did not. At the first sound of pans clanging, I was halfway across the neighborhood. It wasn't until late high school and into college that I realized, hey, wait a minute, who's going to feed me when I turn 18?

Now I have kids of my own. Ideally, I would have been teaching them how to cook all along so they don't end up in the same situation. Just make it part of the ole routine. And I did do that to some extent when they were younger, supervising the usual baking projects and such. But as the kids got older, homework and activities and, yes, their earned hour of screen time coincided with my dinner prep. They weren't clamoring to help and I wasn't going to force it. Let kids be kids while they still can, I thought. Plus, I enjoy cooking alone. It's my me time. What about all those hours that the kids are in school, you ask? Isn't that my me time, too? Well, aren't we cheeky today, Internet. Pipe down or I won't share this recipe.

I taught the 11YO how to make scrambled eggs over the summer. I'm not a morning person and this was a skill that was going to work out well for everyone. Now he makes scrambled eggs with cheese pretty much every weekend. Dinner is more of a commitment, though, and this was the first time he expressed interest in helping out. I was very excited. I was also afraid he'd change his mind.

Quick, to the stove! Let's make some shrimp!

The 11YO can eat his weight in shrimp. As luck would have it, shrimp is also very easy to cook, mere minutes. If you can make scrambled eggs, you can make shrimp. I made the first batch and he watched and helped. He did the second batch by himself while I fried the tortillas on the burner next to him. The 8YO hovered nearby offering to add pepper to anything that needed it. We already had some corn and bean salad left over from the night before. That just left the lime crema, a quick combination of sour cream, lime zest, lime juice, salt, and a couple of drops of honey.

This meal is absolutely delicious. I eat the tostada with my hands, breaking off shards of crispy tortilla and devouring everything that comes with it. The kids like everything separately, shrimp in a pile on the plate, crispy tortilla in hand like the world's biggest chip. My camera didn't pick up on the golden tones of my fried tortillas (jerk), but you want them to be golden brown, puffed, and crispy. Even if you don't have the patience to fry tortillas, the shrimp and the lime crema together are not to be missed.


Shrimp Tostadas with Lime Crema  

We made 2 pounds of shrimp for this recipe because we love shrimp. The recipe below is for a more virtuous serving size. Adjust as you see fit.

3/4 cup sour cream
1 medium lime, zested and juiced
1/2 tsp. honey
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 Tbsp. olive oil, plus 1 Tbsp. for shrimp
4 to 8 corn tortillas (I prefer local Cinco de Mayo brand)
1 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/4 tsp. cumin
Pinch cayenne
1 large avocado, cubed
Chopped fresh cilantro
Salt and black pepper to taste

In a small bowl, whisk together the sour cream, lime zest, lime juice, honey, and salt. Set aside.

Line a plate with paper towels. In a small frying pan, heat 2 Tbsp. of oil. When shimmering hot, fry the corn tortillas, one at a time, until crispy, golden, and puffed, about two minutes per side. Drain on paper towels.

Heat the remaining 1 Tbsp. of oil in a large non-stick frying pan over medium-high heat. Meanwhile, sprinkle the shrimp with paprika, cumin, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Add the seasoned shrimp to the hot pan and sauté until the shrimp have coiled and turned from gray to pink, about 4 minutes. Remove from the heat.

To serve, place a tortilla on a plate, slather with lime crema, top with shrimp and avocado, and sprinkle with chopped cilantro. Serve with corn and bean salad and additional lime crema on the side. Dig in.

Quick Cucumber Salad

Now that school is back in session, it's challenging to return to the usual state of structure and restraint. But it's very necessary, both for the belly and the budget.

We're still getting tons of cucumbers in our farmshare, so here's a nice way to use them. Fresh and flavorful, this tangy salad goes well with grilled meats and various end-of-summer pastas like this one.


Dill Cucumber Salad  

I used to salt the cucumbers ahead of time to extract some of the water, but now I don't bother. The liquid they give off tempers the bite of the vinegar.

2 large cucumbers
1/2 onion
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds (optional)
Pinch of red pepper flakes
Kosher salt and pepper to taste

Slice the cucumbers very, very thinly. You can use a mandoline, but if you don't own one, cut them as thin as you can with a sharp knife. Slice the onion thinly, too, and put the vegetables in a medium bowl. Sprinkle generously with salt. Add the rice vinegar, chopped dill, sesame seeds (if using), a pinch of red pepper flakes, and ground black pepper to taste. Toss well and refrigerate until ready to serve, stirring occasionally.

Local Ingredients:
Cucumbers, onion, dill: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Curried Zucchini Soup

Summer squash getting you down? Do you have enough bat-sized zucchini to supply a major league baseball team? If so, then you need to make this soup. It's bright and flavorful with Indian flavors and only requires a half hour of work. More importantly, you will use up a full three pounds of zucchini while furnishing yourself with lunch for a week.

Curried Zucchini Soup  

I like to brown the vegetables to give this soup extra flavor. Feel free to adjust the amount of curry powder to your liking. You can add a little cayenne, too.

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 medium carrots, peeled, chopped
3 ribs celery, chopped
1 small onion, peeled, chopped
1 teaspoon curry powder
3 pounds zucchini (about 3 medium), cut into cubes
6 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

In a large soup pot, melt the butter over medium heat until it begins to bubble. Add the carrots, celery, onion, and curry powder. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the vegetables soften and start to turn brown.

Stir in the zucchini. Add the stock, salt, and pepper, and bring it to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes or until the zucchini is tender. Stir in the cream. Remove the soup from the heat to cool slightly before blending.

Using a blender, process the soup in batches until smooth (or use a stick blender). Reheat and season the soup to taste. Makes 8 servings (or freeze half for later).

Source: Adapted from The Dinnertime Survival Cookbook by Debra Ponzek and Mary Goodbody

Local Ingredients:
Zucchini, carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Onion: School garden, Waltham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Roasted Salmon with Dill Yogurt Sauce

Well, we're off on vacation. As always, I've booby-trapped our home with poison ivy, both inside and out, so steal our junk at your own risk.

Before I go, I thought I'd leave you with a quick summer dinner that got the thumbs-up from the kids. It's from the book Dinner: A Love Story by Jenny Rosenstrach. I can't find a single thing wrong with it. Enjoy!

Roasted Salmon with Dill Yogurt Sauce  

You can grill the salmon, too. Your call.

6 4-ounce salmon fillets
1/2 cup plain yogurt (I used Green Mountain Greek yogurt, which isn't too thick)
1 heaping teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill
Squeeze of fresh lemon
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Season the salmon with salt and pepper. Place it in a baking dish and roast in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes until flaky but still moist.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together the yogurt, mustard, dill, and lemon juice. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve the fish with a dollop of sauce and perhaps some green beans.

Source: Adapted from Dinner: A Love Story by Jenny Rosenstrach

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumb Bars

I think I've mentioned how much I love rhubarb: rhubarb pie, rhubarb crisp, rhubarb parfaits. I may be a minority on this, but I like my rhubarb to stand alone. However, in the interest of diversity on my blog, I offer you these Strawberry Rhubarb Crumb Bars. The rhubarb in our school garden is going gangbusters, and there's no way elementary school kids are going to eat it all unless it's mixed with something they know is good. Like strawberries. And a sweet crumbly topping. You have to earn their trust first, and then maybe you can subtract the berries. (Maybe.)


Strawberry-Rhubarb Crumb Bars   

This makes enough to feed a crowd. For a smaller group, halve the recipe and make it in an 8x8-inch pan. Prepare to eat it all within a few days as the moisture from the fruit tends to uncrisp the topping over time.

Dough
21/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
1 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
12 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cold, cut into 6 pieces
2 oz. cream cheese
1 large egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
1/4 tsp. ground cardamom (optional)

Fruit
1/2 pound (2 cups) strawberries, hulled, halved, and thinly sliced
1 pound (4 cups) rhubarb, cut into roughly 1/2-inch thick pieces

1/2 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1 tablespoon lemon juice

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

For the dough, put 2 cups of flour into the bowl of the food processor along with the brown sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the butter and cream cheese, and pulse the motor until the mixture is moist and crumbly. Dump everything out into a medium bowl. Measure 3 cups of the mixture and add back to the food processor along with the remaining 1/2 cup of flour, egg, and vanilla. Blend just until it starts to come together into a dough. Press the clumps evenly into the pan. Bake for 10 minutes until puffy.

Meanwhile, combine the strawberries, rhubarb, brown sugar, and lemon juice in a large bowl. Spread the fruit in an even layer over the surface of the partially baked crust.

To the bowl of reserved streusel topping, add the walnuts and cardamom if desired, and work in with your fingers until pebbly. Sprinkle the topping over the surface of the fruit. Bake again for 40 to 50 minutes until the topping is light golden brown. Let cool completely before slicing. Store uncovered for a day or two to keep the streusel from getting soggy.

Source: Adapted from The Kitchn and The Tart Tart

Maple Balsamic Slow-Cooker Ribs

I was all ready to pack the slow-cooker away to prove that, yes, winter is finally over now that it's May, but then I remembered: We still have another month of baseball and soccer ahead of us. A whole month of practices and games, 80% of which eat into the weekday dinner hours. Maybe I shouldn't be so hasty. Crockpots aren't just for the winter, after all. With a little advanced planning, they can save us from the temptation to eat from the concession stand three to four nights a week instead of having a proper meal. Which is something I would totally do and then not tell you.

So here's one of those 8 o'clock post-game meals the kids loved. Serve these tender, sticky, sweet and sour ribs with leftover mashed potatoes and microwave peas (for example) and you'll have dinner on the table in under 20 minutes. That's enough time for both kids to emerge from the shower squeaky clean and willing to eat whatever you put in front of them. Especially when it's awesome.


Maple Balsamic Slow-Cooker Ribs    

Throw the ribs in the crockpot before work and then finish them in the oven right before dinner so you get the best of both worlds: the tenderness of long, slow cooking combined with high heat caramelization.

1 3-lb. rack of spare ribs, cut between the ribs into 4 slabs
Salt and black pepper to taste
6 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed
2 bay leaves
1 sprig fresh sage
1 cup water
1/3 cup maple syrup, preferably Grade B
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, smashed
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper

Blot the ribs dry with paper towels and sprinkle both sides generously with salt and pepper. Arrange 4 of the garlic cloves in the bottom of the slow-cooker along with the bay leaves and sage. Set the ribs on top, overlapping slightly. Pour in the water. Cover the pot and cook on low for 6 to 8 hours or on high from 4 to 6 hours until the meat is very tender and threatening to fall right off the bone (times may vary).

Twenty minutes before serving, combine the maple syrup, balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, remaining 2 cloves of garlic, ginger, salt, and pepper in a small pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the mixture thickens slightly, 5 to 7 minutes.

Preheat your broiler on high. Carefully remove the ribs from the crockpot and arrange on a rimmed baking sheet. Brush one side with the sauce and broil about 2 minutes until glazy and caramelized but not burned. Keep a close eye on the meat as broiler times may vary. Remove the pan from the oven, flip the meat carefully, and brush the other side with sauce. Again, broil 2 minutes. If you have any sauce left, you can flip once more, apply the glaze, and broil for one minute longer, but you don't want to dry out the meat, so leave it at that. Let cool slightly. Serves 4.

Local Sources:
Pork: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Deerfield, MA

Shiitake Banh Mi

A few weeks ago, I found myself with a glut of shiitake mushrooms. A sudden spell of warm weather caused my five logs to flush all at once with these small, rather dry, cracked mushrooms. The next day called for rain, so I decided to keep them out a little longer to let them grow a bit more and rehydrate. When I woke up the next morning, the temperature had plummeted, there was snow on the ground, and I ended up with several pounds of huge, rather waterlogged, partially frozen mushrooms (insert frowny-faced emoticon here).

Frozen mushrooms aren't the best. The way mushrooms grow from tiny pinheads to full-grown specimens is basically by inflating with water. But if that water should freeze, it will expand and rupture the cell walls. The results are pretty slimy. I know because I cooked the frozen ones anyway. Not the best.

On the upside, some of the mushrooms didn't freeze and these banh mi-like sandwiches were a great way to enjoy them. A banh mi is a sandwich that evolved in Vietnam during the French colonial period. It's usually some kind of meat, like pate or pork belly, in a baguette with pickled vegetables, fresh herbs, and spicy chili sauce—a fusion of both cultures in one tasty package. For this vegetarian version, shiitake slices are sautéed in soy sauce and garlic, then added to a baguette slathered with Sriracha mayo, layered with quick-pickled cucumbers and radishes, and garnished with cilantro and mint. Fresh-tasting and satisfying, this was lunch all week.

The idea was inspired by a recipe in the vegan cookbook Isa Does It by Isa Chandra Moskowitz, except I unveganed it by adding the mayo back in. Vegans and non-vegans alike will want to check out this book: it's full of things that even I would eat, and the food photography and overall design is great. And if you have the same pet peeve I have about authors' faces on the cover (no offense to anyone's face—all I want to see is the food), you can remove the dust jacket and underneath it, printed directly on the cover, is a nice colorful alphabet soup with little pasta letters spelling out "Let's Eat."

Yes, let's!


Shiitake Banh Mi    

Avoid super-crusty baguettes for these sandwiches unless you want the roof of your mouth shredded. Aim for something mid-way between a soft sub roll and a traditional baguette (Russo's shoppers: try the medium sub rolls that come in bags of three on the bottom shelf). Also, I used regular red radishes, which turned the picking liquid pink and gave the vegetables a rosy hue by Day 2. If you want a more manly sandwich, maybe stick with the traditional white daikon radishes.

Quick Pickles
1/2 cup rice vinegar
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup thinly sliced radishes
1 cup thinly sliced English or Persian cucumber

Shiitakes
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 pound shiitake mushrooms, caps sliced 1/4-inch thick, stems removed
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons soy sauce

Sriracha mayo
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon Sriracha
Salt to taste

Assembly
4 soft baguette rolls
Fresh cilantro sprigs
Fresh mint leaves

For the pickles, whisk together the vinegar, water, sugar, and salt until dissolved. Stir in the vegetables and let them sit in the liquid until ready to serve.

For the shiitakes, preheat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. When hot, add the oil and then the shiitakes. Sauté until they soften, release their moisture, and brown a bit in spots, 5 to 10 minutes depending on how much moisture they contain. Add the garlic and sauté for 30 seconds before adding the soy sauce, stirring until well mixed and fragrant. Remove the mushrooms to a shallow bowl to cool slightly.

For the Sriracha mayo, whisk together the mayo, Sriracha, and salt. As written, the spice level is about medium, but you can adjust it to your liking by adding more mayo or more Sriracha.

To assemble the sandwiches, split the baguettes lengthwise by cutting out a narrow wedge from the top. Then hollow out the rolls a little by pulling out some of the extra bread inside to make room for more filling. Spread the inside generously with Sriracha mayo. Add some cooked mushrooms, then some pickled radish and cucumbers, and then cilantro and mint. Eat up. Any remaining sandwich components can be stored several days covered in the fridge. Makes 4 sandwiches.

Source: Adapted from Isa Does It by Isa Chandra Moskowitz.

Grapefruit Poppy Seed Cake

Well hi, long-lost readers! Did you think I disappeared for good? No such luck.

This was the post that was supposed to go up last week before we drove down the Cape for Easter, but then things got all biblical in the blogosphere. Typepad, my blog hosting service, was cyberattacked on the eve of Good Friday, rendering thousands of blogs inaccessible, mine included. FotF was resurrected on Saturday, then crucified again on Easter Sunday in ironic fashion.

We were too busy eating quiche and jellybeans to really care on Easter. I sort of noticed on Monday, but then promptly forgot because the Boston Marathon was so exciting! Americans like Meb and Shalane digging deep for #BostonStrong was an amazing thing to watch. But then on Tuesday, when service was still down, I definitely noticed. I needed to write. Was my blog coming back? Ever?

I hadn't considered a scenario in which you could actually lose access to all of your work indefinitely. I took it for granted that my eight years worth of words and pictures would always be there until I died and stopped paying the bills. Now I wonder: is that really true?

FotF seems to be running smoothly at the moment, so thank you for your patience. Also, thanks to Typepad for pulling those all-nighters. Hopefully, that's the last time this happens, but if you should arrive here to find a big empty space again in the future, check my Twitter or Facebook feeds for status updates. I also have a space on Medium that can serve as my emergency backup blog in a pinch. Because there ain't no emergency like a food blog emergency.

Anyway, here's that cake. You're probably guessing it's Lemon Poppy Seed, and you're close but no cigar. This version is made with grapefruit, an adaptation of the Grapefruit Buttermilk Cake in my book. It's tender and moist with a subtle, citrusy flavor. The 8YO adores it. It's something sweet and bright and hopeful. Just do me a favor and don't give any to the hackers. No cake for them.

 
Grapefruit Poppy Seed Cake    

I prefer tart white and pink grapefruits for baking, but the sweeter red grapefruits will also work.

Cake
1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar
1 teaspoon finely grated grapefruit zest (shiny yellow or pink part only)
1 cup (225 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
11/3 cups (190 g) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (125 ml) buttermilk
1 tablespoon poppy seeds

Syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) freshly squeezed grapefruit juice (from about 1/2 grapefruit)
1/3 cup (70 g) granulated sugar

Icing
1 tablespoon grapefruit juice
1/2 cup (65 g) confectioners’ sugar

Preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Butter a 91/2 x 51/2-inch (24 x 14-cm) loaf pan. Tear out a sheet of parchment paper. Fold it in half or thirds so that it can lie inside the whole width of the pan, ends hanging over the long sides of the pan. This paper hammock makes it easier to lift the cake out of the pan later.

For the cake, mix the sugar with the grapefruit zest in a small bowl. Rub the mixture together with your fingers so the zest releases its oils.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter with the sugar mixture until fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well and scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Add the vanilla and mix again.

Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt into a medium bowl. Add one third of the dry ingredients to the sugar mixture and mix on low speed just until combined. Alternate adding the buttermilk and the rest of the dry ingredients in halves to the sugar mixture, mixing until just combined and scraping down the sides of the bowl in between. Add the poppy seeds with the final addition of dry ingredients. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan.

Bake the cake for 55 to 60 minutes or until the top is golden and puffed, and a toothpick inserted into the center of cake comes out clean. Remove the cake from the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, for the syrup, combine the grapefruit juice and sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil the syrup 1 minute and then remove it from the heat. With a toothpick or skewer, poke holes all over the top of the cake. Pour the syrup over the cake, a little at a time, brushing it with a pastry brush to ensure even soaking. When all of the syrup has been added, let the cake cool completely. To remove the cake from the pan, lift up the edges of the parchment paper and set the cake on a plate, then slide the paper out from underneath.

For the glaze, whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon of grapefruit juice with the confectioners’ sugar until smooth. You want the consistency to be loose enough to drizzle, but not so thin that it soaks into the cake. If it’s too thin, add more sugar. If it’s too thick, whisk in some water a few drops at a time. Drizzle the icing over the top of the cake with a whisk (if it dribbles over the sides, all the better). The cake can be stored at room temperature covered in plastic wrap for 2 to 3 days.

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues

Ever since my friend Red made Ottolenghi's cinnamon and hazelnut meringues for a dinner party, I've been dreaming about their sweet, cloud-like forms. I love anything with nuts and meringue. Just say the word dacquoise and I swoon.

Recently, I found myself with a backlog of egg whites in the freezer, and if there's anything that makes Husband crazy, it's random little Tupperware containers of things kicking around that he claims I'll never use. But I will use them. You bet I will! Quickly, before he chucked them in the trash or out the window, I got my hands on that Ottolenghi recipe. I made a few changes, substituting regular table sugar for the caster sugar and dark brown sugar for the turbinado since that's all I had. Then I flavored the meringues with pistachios and cardamom instead.

Boy, was I smitten. I can't imagine a more regal treatment for those precious not-forgotten egg whites. Gluten-free folks, take note—these are excellent. Keep them in mind for Easter, when they'll serve as a more elegant, grown-up version of marshmallow Peeps. They'll also work for Passover.

Move over coconut macaroons!

 

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues    

My only stipulation for meringues is that they be soft in the middle. Hard, chalky, dried-out meringues get no love from me.

7 large egg whites
1-1/3 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup pistachios, roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 225°F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Place the egg whites and both of the sugars in the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk together. Put about an inch of water in a small pot and bring it to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce the heat to low, and rest the bowl on top of the pot making sure the bottom of the bowl doesn't touch the water. Stir the mixture occasionally as it heats until the sugar dissolves, about 5 minutes. Rub some of the mixture between your fingers to make sure you can't feel any sugar crystals. If you still feel some grit, you can put it back on the heat, stirring, for a few minutes longer, but you don't want the mixture to overheat. Remove the bowl from the heat before it gets too hot to touch.

Fasten the bowl back to the stand mixer. With the whisk attachment, whip the mixture on medium-high for about 8 minutes until it cools and the meringue is firm, glossy, and holds its shape when you lift up a bit with your spoon. Mix in the ground cardamom. Using a large spoon, scoop up an apple-sized amount and use another spoon to scrape it onto the lined cookie sheets. Space them an inch or two apart and sprinkle with nuts.

Bake for about 1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hours, until the meringues are crisp and dry on the outside, but still a little soft in the center. Poke your finger through the bottom of one of them to be sure they're done to your liking. They should not be brown in any way. Remove from the oven and let cool completely. Store the meringues covered at room temperature. Makes about 20.

Source: Adapted from Ottolenghi: the Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi

Chicken Pot Pie

Hey, everyone, it's March 14th, which means it's Pi Day! Enjoy your allotted 3.14 pieces of pie. The great thing about a non-repeating number that never ends is that you can always have a tiny bit more pie, mathematically speaking, so enjoy the loophole while you can!

In honor of the day, I have a pie recipe for you. That's two in one week if you count the chocolate tart. The inspiration for this chicken potpie came from Joanne Chang's new cookbook, Flour, Too. If you don't know who Joanne Chang is, then you must not be from Boston because if you were, you would know her bakery and you would know it well. It's paradise. Especially when you're walking from the ICA in the fricking freezing cold with the horrible, horrible wind. The whole place just swaddles you with warmth and butter.

I pulled this potpie filling straight from the book (actually, it's chef Cory Johnson's recipe). But I already had some of my own pie dough in the fridge, so I used that instead of the cookbook version. It's a dough I've been playing around with that has cornmeal and buttermilk. The other difference is that I only had enough dough for the top crust, so I didn't bother with the bottom crust. The crisp, flaky top is the best part anyway. Plus then I didn't have to do any blind-baking (score!). If you want the full Flour recipe, well, you'll have to buy the book. But if you're willing to slum it with the likes of me, here's what I did. It's still pretty awesome.

 

Chicken Potpie    

If you just want a regular pie crust, no funny buttermilk-cornmeal business, just omit the cornmeal and sub in icy cold water for the buttermilk.

Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup fine cornmeal
1/2 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
3 to 5 tablespoons buttermilk

Filling
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium onion, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large carrot, peeled and thinly sliced
1 celery stalk, thinly sliced
1 small russet potato, unpeeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
5 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1-1/2 cups chicken stock
1 cup frozen peas
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme
1-1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons heavy cream

For the crust, add the flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt to the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter pieces and pulse in 1-second beats until you have chunks of butter the size of peas, 8 to 10 pulses. Add 3 tablespoons of buttermilk through the feed tube, and pulse until the dough starts to clump. If it doesn't clump after 12 pulses, add a little more buttermilk, pulsing the motor after each addition, until the mixture clumps together. (You can also cut the butter into the dry ingredients with an electric mixer, a pastry blender, or your fingers. Add the buttermilk in increments, fluffing with a fork, until the dough holds together when pressed.) Dump the dough onto the counter and form it into a ball. Flatten it into a disk about 3/4-inch thick and wrap it in plastic wrap. Let the dough rest in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

For the filling, heat the butter in a large saucepan over medium-high heat until it foams. Add the onion and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it softens a bit. Add the carrot, celery, and potato and sauté, stirring, for 4 to 5 minutes until the vegetables start to soften. Add the chicken and continue to cook for another 2 to 3 minutes, stirring, until the chicken pieces start to turn opaque. Stir in the flour, mixing to coat all of the meat and vegetables, and cook 2 to 3 minutes longer. By this time, the filling will start to look a bit sludgy and a brown film should be forming on the bottom of the pan. Add the stock and bring to a simmer. Add the peas, thyme, salt, pepper, and cream and stir well. Simmer, scrapping up the browned bits clinging to the bottom of the pan, for about 5 minutes or until the filling thickens. Remove from the heat and spoon into a 9-inch pie plate or other similarly sized casserole dish.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Roll out the dough on a well-floured surface into a circle about 1/4-inch thick and at least 10 inches in diameter. With a bench scraper or spatula, flip one side of the dough over the top of the rolling pin, gently loosening the dough if it sticks to the counter, until it is fully draped over the pin. Center the dough over the filling and unfurl. Gently tuck the edges of the dough down into the gap between the filling and the sides of the plate to enclose. Crimp the edges decoratively if you want or leave as is. Cut a few steam vents into the dough with a paring knife. Place the pie on a baking sheet to catch any overflow. Bake for 30 to 45 minutes on the top rack of the oven until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbly. Remove from the oven and let sit for 15 minutes before serving. Pie will keep for several days covered in the fridge. To reheat, I actually lift off the crust and heat it on a pan in the toaster oven and heat the filling separately in the microwave. Then I reassemble. That way, the crust is nice and crisp instead of soggy.

Source: Filling adapted from Flour, Too by Joanne Chang

Local Ingredients:
Chicken: Chestnut Farm, Hardwick, MA
Carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Buttermilk: Kate's, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Salted Dark Chocolate Tart

As I mentioned before, it was my dad's birthday over the weekend. I usually make baklava, per his request, but this year he wanted to try something different.

He picked up my book (proudly on display on his coffee table for all of his cats to see), and picked out the Salted Dark Chocolate Tart (page 83). He loves chocolate and pistachios, so it was a logical choice. Also, it's rich and delicious. I knew he would like it, and I know I like it, and even the kids were enthusiastic about it once they scraped all the pistachios off. Or maybe they ate two pieces each because they were just so glad to be done with their death march around Sturbridge Village. Either way, we capped off a nice afternoon of barbecue and American history with what essentially is a chocolate truffle pie. And now I'm offering the recipe here. Because I know some of you aren't going to buy my book, but I love you anyway.

Also, want to know what makes a great serving plate for desserts in a pinch? The rotating plate on the inside of your microwave. It's perfectly flat, and the textured, tempered glass almost reads as "fancy." You'll want to clean it off first, of course. Spaghetti sauce splatters detract from the presentation and flavor, but it's nothing a little soapy water and some elbow grease can't handle. Just a little bachelor wisdom from my dad I'm passing on to you!

Salted Dark Chocolate Tart    

The recipe is straight out of my cookbook, except I'm substituting a potentially easier way to make the crust. Have at it!

Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter (1 stick), cut into 8 pieces
1 to 2 tablespoons milk
Few drops of vanilla

Filling
1-1/3 cups bittersweet chopped chocolate or chocolate chips
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon Chambord or crème de cassis (optional)
1-1/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Topping
1 to 2 pinches large, coarse-grained sea salt, like Maldon or Fleur de Sel
2 tablespoons finely chopped pistachios (optional)

For the crust, add the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, and salt to the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter pieces and pulse in 1-second beats until you have chunks of butter the size of peas, 8 to 10 pulses. Add 1 tablespoon of milk with a few drops of vanilla through the feed tube, and pulse until the dough starts to clump. If it doesn't clump after 12 pulses, dribble in the remaining tablespoon of milk a little at a time, pulsing the motor after each addition, until the mixture clumps together. (You can also cut the butter into the dry ingredients with an electric mixer, a pastry blender, or your fingers. Add the milk in increments, fluffing with a fork, until the dough holds together when pressed.) Dump the dough onto the counter and form it into a ball. Flatten it into a disk about 3/4-inch thick and wrap it in plastic wrap. Let the dough rest in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Roll out the dough on a well-floured surface into a circle about 1/4-inch thick and 12 inches in diameter. With a bench scraper or spatula, flip one side of the dough over the top of the rolling pin, gently loosening the dough if it sticks to the counter, until it is fully draped over the pin. Center the dough over a 10-inch tart pan and unfurl. Gently fit the dough into the corners of the pan without stretching it. Clip off the excess dough by rolling the pin over the top. Gently press the dough against the sides of the pan with your fingers so the dough level rises slightly above the pan's edge to compensate for shrinkage. Use the scraps to reinforce any areas that are too thin. Poke the bottom crust with a fork about a dozen times. Line the dough with aluminum foil. Fill with pie weights all the way to the sides to keep the dough from shrinking (dried beans or rice work well). Bake the crust for 20 minutes, and then carefully remove the foil and weights. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes more, or until the bottom crust is cooked and dry. Let it cool completely before filling.

For the filling, combine the chocolate, sugar, salt, and Chambord in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan, heat the cream and butter until the butter has melted and the cream is hot with some bubbles forming around the edges. Do not boil. Pour the cream mixture over the chocolate and let it sit for 1 minute. Gently whisk just until smooth so as not to create air bubbles. Pour the filling into the tart shell and set it on an even surface in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours, or until firm.

Just before serving, sprinkle the tart with sea salt, or ground pistachios, or both! The tart can be stored covered in the refrigerator for 1 to 2 days, but the salt will start to break down (totally edible, just not as pretty).

Source: Adapted from WINTERSWEET by yours truly.

The Best Plain Doughnuts You Will Ever Make

A few weeks ago, I promised the kids I'd make doughnuts if school was cancelled on account of the big bad blizzard that was predicted to slam the Boston area. But Waltham turned out to be one of the only communities NOT to preemptively declare a day off for the 2 inches of snow we ended up getting (the Cape got slammed, not us). So to celebrate prudence and restraint on the part of the Waltham public schools, I decided to exercise my own version of prudence and restraint by making doughnuts anyway.


As I'm sure you all know, I love doughnuts. Yes, I do believe this has come up before. My favorites are old-fashioned cake doughnuts, but I can be tempted by any doughnut, anytime. That means I have eaten a lot of disappointing doughnuts in my day. So when I say that the particular doughnuts pictured above are the best plain doughnuts I've had in recent memory, I'm speaking from a place of experience. They are damn good doughnuts and you can make them yourself. These are not squishy, yeast-raised doughnuts a la Krispy Kreme. These are crusty and craggily on the outside, tender and cakey on the inside with a hint of nutmeg. The secret to the tender crumb is sour cream and a quick rest in the refrigerator before frying. You don't want them to be perfectly round and smooth. Perfectly round and smooth equals machine-made doughnuts. You're making these with your own two hands—let your hands take the credit.

The kids go crazy for the glazed version, but I love them plain best of all.




Old-Fashioned Plain Doughnuts    

This recipe makes 8 or 9 doughnuts and holes. There's probably not quite enough glaze for the whole batch, but that's because you need to keep some plain for me, for when I arrive unannounced through the chimney for my late morning doughnut fix.

1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 large egg yolks
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
2/3 cup sour cream
Vegetable or canola oil, for frying

With an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar together for 1 minute on medium speed until sandy. Add the egg yolks and beat for 2 minutes more until light and fluffy, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg together in a medium bowl. Add 1/3 of the dry ingredients to the sugar mixture and mix until just combined. Alternate adding half of the sour cream and half of the remaining dry ingredients, mixing on low just until combined. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Heat the oil (2-3 inches deep) in a large, heavy bottomed pot until a candy thermometer reaches 350 F. Turn out the dough onto a floured counter and roll out to a thickness of 1/2 inch. Using a 3-1/4-inch biscuit cutter or drinking glass, cut out as many circles as you can, flouring the cutter to prevent sticking. Gently pat together and reroll the scraps to make additional doughnuts. Use a 1-1/4-inch biscuit cutter to cut out the centers. (Don't have a cutter that size? Poke a hole with your finger and twirl the doughnut around on the floured counter until the hole is the size you want. You'll just have to forego the munchkins.)

Add the dough to the hot oil in batches of 2 or 3, being careful not to crowd the pot and drive the oil temperature down. After a few seconds, the doughnuts will float to the top. Fry for 75 to 90 seconds until golden brown and cracked. Flip and fry the other side for 60 to 75 seconds until golden. Transfer to a rack set over a pan lined with paper towels to drain. For best results, ice as soon as possible while still warm.

A note on frying: Do not splash the dough into the hot oil. You will burn yourself and hate me forever. Dip one end of the dough into the oil, then let the top fall towards the back of the pot, so the splash goes away from you, while simultaneously moving your hand away. Same goes for the doughnut holes. Don't plop them all in or you'll be sorry. Find a slotted spoon and lower the dough balls into the oil, then gently wiggle the spoon out from underneath.

Glaze
2 cups confectioners' sugar
1 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoons sour cream
3-4 tablespoons hot water

In a medium bowl, whisk together the confectioners' sugar, honey, and sour cream. Whisk in the hot water, starting with just 3 tablespoons and then dribbling in only as much additional water as it takes to make a smooth, runny glaze that still coats the back of a spoon well. If the slurry ends up too runny, add more confectioners' sugar. Dip the warm doughnuts into the glaze, one side at a time, letting the excess run off for a few seconds. Allow the doughnuts to dry completely on a rack until the glaze crisps up, at least 15 to 20 minutes.

Local Sources:
Sour cream, butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA
Honey: Boston Honey Company, Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA

Dan Dan Noodles

During these cold, busy winter days, I've been gravitating toward easy-to-prepare comfort foods, preferably using ingredients I already have in the house.

Reader Don sent me this recipe for Dan Dan Mian, a spicy Chinese Sichuan noodle dish made with ground pork and chiles. I took the spicing way down for the kids so what we end up eating around here isn't exactly authentic, but the whole family loves it regardless. Warm and satisfying, it reminds me of an Italian Bolognese, but with Asian flavors.

Serve with pickled radishes or oil-cured ginger-sesame carrots on the side for a quick, crunchy veggie infusion.

Dan Dan Mian    

This is the original recipe with notes for how I modify it for the kids (I omit the chili oil entirely and use only 1 teaspoon of Sriracha). But some of you enjoy super-spicy food and/or intense facial pain, so have at it.

1 pound ground pork
2 tablespoons soy sauce, divided
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons minced/grated fresh ginger root
2 tablespoons peanut butter
1 tablespoon chili oil (I omit)
2 tablespoons Sriracha chili sauce (I use 1 teaspoon)
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 cup chicken stock
2 scallions, sliced

Mix the ground pork with 1 tablespoon of the soy sauce. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat and brown the pork. Remove to a plate and set aside.

Add the remaining vegetable oil to the pan and sauté the onion over medium heat until tender and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the ginger and garlic, and let cook for 1 to 2 minutes. Add the peanut butter, remaining 1 Tbsp. of soy sauce, chili oil (if using), chili sauce, sesame oil, and chicken stock. Simmer uncovered over low heat for about 5 minutes or until the sauce reduces and thickens. Add the ground pork and cook until you reach the desired consistency.

Remove the pan from the heat and serve over noodles (udon or rice). Scatter chopped scallions on top. Serves 3 to 4.

Local Sources
Ground pork, chicken in chicken stock: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Onion, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Cambodian Beef and Celery Stir-Fry

File this under "Dishes I Make All the Time But Never Write About." It's a great quick dinner to make when I find a surprise bunch of celery in our farmshare, not to mention all the great tomatoes this time of year.

Beef and celery complement each other very well, but what makes this stir-fry awesome is the fish sauce. That's the Cambodian influence. Fish sauce (often written as nam pla or nuoc mam on the bottle) is a southeast Asian condiment made from pressed fermented anchovies and used like you would soy sauce. Brands include Three Crabs, Golden Boy, and Squid (though no squid, crabs, or little boys are contained therein—that we know of).

A word to the wise: do not smell the fish sauce. If you do, there's little chance you'll willingly pour it all over your food. It smells awful. But somehow its pungent brininess adds amazing depth of flavor to meat and vegetables, and the resulting garlicky tomato broth is fantastic soaked into rice. Leftovers are even better the next day. If you do smell the fish sauce—and don't say I didn't warn you—you can always change your mind and sub in soy sauce instead (omit the sugar listed in the recipe in that case).

That's the beauty of stir-fries. Just use what you like. Don't care for celery? Sub in bok choy or broccoli instead. You're getting at least one of those in your farmshare, I just know it!




Beef and Celery Stir-Fry    

Don't throw away those celery leaves—they wilt down deliciously! Farm celery stalks are often skinnier than supermarket celery, which means you should cut the pieces larger than indicated to keep the cooking time the same.

1/4 cup vegetable oil
6 to 8 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed
1 lb. boneless sirloin, cut into 1/4-inch thick strips about 2 x 1.5-inches in size
3/4 lb. celery stalks, leaves included, sliced on the diagonal about 1/2-inch thick
3-1/2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 pound tomatoes, cored, cut into bite-sized chunks
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat and stir-fry the garlic cloves for 10 to 20 seconds until starting to brown. Add the beef and stir-fry for about 1 minute. Add the celery, and cook for about 2 minutes, tossing frequently. Stir in the fish sauce, sugar, and salt, and then fold in the tomatoes. Cook 3 to 4 minutes, stirring, until the beef is cooked through and the celery is crisp-tender. Season with black pepper to taste, and serve with rice.

Source: Adapted from the Elephant Walk Cookbook by Longteine de Monteiro and Katherine Neustadt

Local Ingredients:
Beef: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Celery, tomatoes: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Garlic: Our school garden, Waltham, MA

Summertime Crab Cakes

Wow, you guys. What a great response to my last post! Part of the fun of these giveaways is reading all of the comments from readers who share their brilliant ideas, like Melissa's beehive peaches, Gail's strawberry basil gimlet and grilled peach smash, and Erin's baked stuffed tomatoes with goat cheese fondue (thanks for the link, Martina!). What I'm trying to say is that with a community like you guys, we're ALL winners.

Cut the crap, Tammy, and just tell us who won.

Okay, fine. The winner of Home Made Summer is commenter number 19: Jill. Congratulations! I'll be in touch.

And now for the consolation prize: a crab cake recipe from the book! These crab cakes are probably the best I've ever made. The kids complained that the vegetable pieces were too big, so be sure to chop your onion and celery very finely if you want your "crabby patties" to go over well with the SpongeBob contingent.

Enjoy!


Crab Cakes with Paprika Mayo     

The mayo recipe makes a lot, so be prepared to find other uses for it, like spread on cubanos or other sandwiches or served with fried fish.

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 yellow onion, finely diced
2 ribs celery, finely diced
6 ounces fresh crab meat (or 1 small can, drained)
1-1/2 cups plain bread crumbs
1/2 cup crème fraîche
1 large egg, beaten
A few fresh basil leaves, chives, and parsley, minced
Salt and black pepper to taste
Oil for frying

Mayo
1 large egg yolk
Juice of 1 medium lemon
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 cups vegetable oil
2 tomatoes (canned are fine), seeded, chopped
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika (plain is fine, too)
Salt and black pepper to taste

In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter and sauté the onion and celery for about 4 minutes, until translucent. Transfer the vegetables to a bowl and let cool. Flake the crab meat into the bowl with the veggies and add 3/4 cup of the bread crumbs (save the remaining bread crumbs for the coating). Add the crème fraîche, beaten egg, and herbs. Season with salt and pepper, and stir well to combine.

Shape the mixture into 8 equal balls slightly smaller than a baseball and flatten them (about 3/4-inch thick). Dredge the patties in bread crumbs until coated all over. In a nonstick pan, heat about 1/4 cup of oil over medium heat. Fry the patties for 2 to 3 minutes per side, until golden brown. Drain on paper towels.

For the mayo, combine the egg yolk, lemon juice, and mustard in a food processor. Process until foamy. With the motor running, pour the oil through the feed tube in a thin trickle until the mixture becomes a thick mayonnaise. Add the tomatoes, paprika, and salt and pepper at the end and process until incorporated. Serve with the crab cakes. (Store the remaining mayo in a jar in the refrigerator.)

Source: Adapted from Home Made Summer by Yvette van Boven

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

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.