It's been a year since I've last posted....what a shame! A food blog combines two of my most compelling attributes: a (relatively) new obsession with food and cooking, and a very very old compulsion to write. So why wouldn't I write about every new discovery?
There are just too many. I've been cooking and baking more than I ever have. I've become well-known at work for bringing in baked goods once or twice a week. From this experience, I'm even toying with the idea of a baking book, about how to bake efficiently and how to stage projects, focusing on things that can be given away and transported easily, like for potlucks.
For example, I love blueberry pie. But pie is not something that's easy to leave out as a leftover in a corporate break room for passersby to sample -- it's messy and needs cutting. Cookies are tops for serving convenience, but I've found that most cookies are pretty lowbrow. That's fine much of the time, but when I want to make something spectacular -- and transportable and servable without plate and fork -- few cookies make the grade.
There are thousands of baking and cooking books out there, so what business do I have butting in on an already very crowded party? None at all, but the idea just won't go away.
Now I think I'll go enjoy a homemade fresh cinnamon roll made with a borrowed stand mixer....oh wow.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Roasted Shrimp Salad
Roasted Shrimp Salad
I rarely get to indulge in the guilty pleasure of sacking out and watching Food Network all afternoon, but some now-forgotten hiccup in my life let me catch a new episode of Barefoot Contessa "Back to Basics." Ah, home again. Ina, milady, talk to me.
I'm not sure why this recipe caught my eye -- salads are usually a fair amount of work, and I'm not a huge shrimp fan, but it seemed simple and portable and I liked the idea of roasting shrimp. A classic Ina twist to the most basic element. With my carb-free diabetic sister visiting, not only did all the ingredients mass muster, but I was on my way to Whole Foods anyway and could buy peeled deveined shrimp. I've deveined shrimp exactly once in my life, and that was plenty.
Raw red onion is strong to me, so I replaced it with a favorite standby: shallots. I've made this twice now, and I think next time I'll try the original red onion. The other flavors are mild enough to handle an extra onion kick. Ina knows what she's doing.
Mild, but wonderful. I couldn't believe how much I liked this. The orange and dill combination is fabulous.
Normally I'm not a huge fan of capers, but in this I wish I'd added more. Go for the capers.
I also tried substituting some of the mayonnaise with yogurt, to minimize the salty taste that screams mayonnaise...maybe that's why I wished I'd put red onions in, dunno. A little added salt could have compensated too. There are lots of minor tweaks to make, as long as the dill, orange and capers are there.
This was so good that I made it again just for myself, this time from frozen uncooked shrimp in a bag from Trader Joes -- deveined but not peeled. Just as good, but much more available, storable and much cheaper than the well-appointed fish market at Whole Foods. The frozen shrimp bag was one pound, less than half of the 2-1/2 lbs that Ina calls for, but was the right count (12 to 15). So I'm not sure what size she's using. The frozen shrimp wasn't small, I think it was called "jumbo" -- but big enough that I cut each piece in half for bite-sized pieces. For this quantity, a half-recipe of the dressing was more than enough.
These shrimp are dressed to impress, and are now filed away in my "staples" recipes.
I rarely get to indulge in the guilty pleasure of sacking out and watching Food Network all afternoon, but some now-forgotten hiccup in my life let me catch a new episode of Barefoot Contessa "Back to Basics." Ah, home again. Ina, milady, talk to me.
I'm not sure why this recipe caught my eye -- salads are usually a fair amount of work, and I'm not a huge shrimp fan, but it seemed simple and portable and I liked the idea of roasting shrimp. A classic Ina twist to the most basic element. With my carb-free diabetic sister visiting, not only did all the ingredients mass muster, but I was on my way to Whole Foods anyway and could buy peeled deveined shrimp. I've deveined shrimp exactly once in my life, and that was plenty.
Raw red onion is strong to me, so I replaced it with a favorite standby: shallots. I've made this twice now, and I think next time I'll try the original red onion. The other flavors are mild enough to handle an extra onion kick. Ina knows what she's doing.
Mild, but wonderful. I couldn't believe how much I liked this. The orange and dill combination is fabulous.
Normally I'm not a huge fan of capers, but in this I wish I'd added more. Go for the capers.
I also tried substituting some of the mayonnaise with yogurt, to minimize the salty taste that screams mayonnaise...maybe that's why I wished I'd put red onions in, dunno. A little added salt could have compensated too. There are lots of minor tweaks to make, as long as the dill, orange and capers are there.
This was so good that I made it again just for myself, this time from frozen uncooked shrimp in a bag from Trader Joes -- deveined but not peeled. Just as good, but much more available, storable and much cheaper than the well-appointed fish market at Whole Foods. The frozen shrimp bag was one pound, less than half of the 2-1/2 lbs that Ina calls for, but was the right count (12 to 15). So I'm not sure what size she's using. The frozen shrimp wasn't small, I think it was called "jumbo" -- but big enough that I cut each piece in half for bite-sized pieces. For this quantity, a half-recipe of the dressing was more than enough.
These shrimp are dressed to impress, and are now filed away in my "staples" recipes.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wild Mushroom Mix
Wild Mushroom Mix
I'm no food jockey yet, but I have taken one cooking class. It was at Whole Foods, and was over 3 hours long to cover a complete dinner menu, and very relaxed. I'd actually prefer an intense 1-hour class, but I did get a lot out of this class.
Including a recipe for a wild mushroom in puff pastry appetizer. But even when we made it in class, the puff pastry seemed extraneous. Who needs the carbs? And there's nothing special about frozen puff pastry. The mushroom mixture, on the other hand....very special. Note to self: make this at home when my diabetic sister is visiting, sans pastry of course.
The time came last week. Shopping for ingredients, I learned that oyster mushrooms are a stunning $18.99 a pound. Fortunately, Whole Foods sells a 6oz container of wild mushrooms for $6.99, which I supplemented with some crimini (a staple anyway).
The recipe calls for chives, tarragon or basil, but this was a no-brainer: fresh tarragon. These days it's not hard to find fresh tarragon in grocery stores, and conveniently, Whole Foods had some. I was struck by the anise tint of the fresh tarragon, I need to look up its family tree. I added some fresh basil too, but it was swamped by the other ingredients. Heavy cream, a liberal dose of brandy, shallots...but would you believe: the largest Whole Foods west of Austin was out of shallots, and had been for weeks?! I had to go to SAFEWAY!
I served this as a side dish on a plate, like you would any vegetable dish with a heavy sauce on it, though now that I think about it, it could also pass for a soup. It is sooo good, such a rich classy flavor with really very few ingredients. The tarragon made it. And my sister's blood sugar didn't even notice it!
I could experiment with chives instead, but why mess with perfection? This is great.
I'm no food jockey yet, but I have taken one cooking class. It was at Whole Foods, and was over 3 hours long to cover a complete dinner menu, and very relaxed. I'd actually prefer an intense 1-hour class, but I did get a lot out of this class.
Including a recipe for a wild mushroom in puff pastry appetizer. But even when we made it in class, the puff pastry seemed extraneous. Who needs the carbs? And there's nothing special about frozen puff pastry. The mushroom mixture, on the other hand....very special. Note to self: make this at home when my diabetic sister is visiting, sans pastry of course.
The time came last week. Shopping for ingredients, I learned that oyster mushrooms are a stunning $18.99 a pound. Fortunately, Whole Foods sells a 6oz container of wild mushrooms for $6.99, which I supplemented with some crimini (a staple anyway).
The recipe calls for chives, tarragon or basil, but this was a no-brainer: fresh tarragon. These days it's not hard to find fresh tarragon in grocery stores, and conveniently, Whole Foods had some. I was struck by the anise tint of the fresh tarragon, I need to look up its family tree. I added some fresh basil too, but it was swamped by the other ingredients. Heavy cream, a liberal dose of brandy, shallots...but would you believe: the largest Whole Foods west of Austin was out of shallots, and had been for weeks?! I had to go to SAFEWAY!
I served this as a side dish on a plate, like you would any vegetable dish with a heavy sauce on it, though now that I think about it, it could also pass for a soup. It is sooo good, such a rich classy flavor with really very few ingredients. The tarragon made it. And my sister's blood sugar didn't even notice it!
I could experiment with chives instead, but why mess with perfection? This is great.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Apricot Pistachio Lemon cake
Apricot Pistachio Lemon Coffee Cake
The more and more I bake, the fewer cookbooks I use. Isn't that interesting? Instead, I dig deeper into my favorites. And Coffee Cakes, by Lou Seibert Pappas is most definitely one of my favorites.
Thanks to my split subscription to Happy Child CSA at Frog Hollow Farm, I had a few bags of dried apricots, nectarines and other random stone fruit. What to do with it?
Then I came across this recipe that included dried apricots. Perfect! So I soaked my random dried stone fruit (that was very dry) and cut it up into regular supermarket dried apricots. The recipe referred to simply "pistachios" but I had to chop those up too. This was a fair amount of prep work for a cake!
Fresh lemons, yogurt...recipe for terrific. And it was: moist and mild with a lovely presentation. (That's chef-speak for: "it looks good.") The only thing that didn't work well was my reconstituted stone fruit. The regular chopped dried apricots, that were still somewhat squishy before chopping, worked a lot better.
My baking photography always suffers from the Denny's Menu Dilemma (it looks soooo much better in the photo), but this time, I had a really good model.
The recipe also includes a cherry-hazelnut variation that absolutely must be tried. Now all I need is a special occasion to bake it for.....hmm, no I don't!
The more and more I bake, the fewer cookbooks I use. Isn't that interesting? Instead, I dig deeper into my favorites. And Coffee Cakes, by Lou Seibert Pappas is most definitely one of my favorites.
Thanks to my split subscription to Happy Child CSA at Frog Hollow Farm, I had a few bags of dried apricots, nectarines and other random stone fruit. What to do with it?
Then I came across this recipe that included dried apricots. Perfect! So I soaked my random dried stone fruit (that was very dry) and cut it up into regular supermarket dried apricots. The recipe referred to simply "pistachios" but I had to chop those up too. This was a fair amount of prep work for a cake!
Fresh lemons, yogurt...recipe for terrific. And it was: moist and mild with a lovely presentation. (That's chef-speak for: "it looks good.") The only thing that didn't work well was my reconstituted stone fruit. The regular chopped dried apricots, that were still somewhat squishy before chopping, worked a lot better.
My baking photography always suffers from the Denny's Menu Dilemma (it looks soooo much better in the photo), but this time, I had a really good model.
The recipe also includes a cherry-hazelnut variation that absolutely must be tried. Now all I need is a special occasion to bake it for.....hmm, no I don't!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Grilled Chicken with Brie and Baby Spinach Salad
Grilled Chicken with Brie and Baby Spinach
I haven't had much time to watch Food Network recently, and when I do, it seems whatever's on is too flashy or hip or competitive or about restaurants -- not stuff I can take into my kitchen. I was sick one day and had little energy to do much more than channel-surf, and caught a Food Network chef I really should like more than I do. Robin Miller does a lot of making a few core items and then using it in different dishes during the whole week. Somehow that never seems to work for me, but it really should. Leftovers are a sorely undervalued commodity in my house.
This recipe seemed almost too simple -- not even a recipe really, just an assembly of simple components. But the idea of melting brie on chicken was too good to resist. Served on top of a spinach salad, it had terrific visual appeal too.
It was pretty easy to make, though the steps about how to melt the brie on the chicken seemed excessive. It melted just fine on the warm chicken taken straight off the grill pan, without the risky step of putting it back onto the grill. The spinach salad was fantastic -- nothing like a little dollop of honey to transform a vinaigrette, and the bacon added a zingy touch to it. Actually, I used the tiny-diced pancetta from Trader Joe's, and "pancetta" just sounds so much more classy than "bacon.
And, as advertised, it shows great.
...though looking at it now, I see it didn't photograph great. Really, that looks like an excessive amount of brie, but it was perfect, especially when parts of dripped down onto the spinach.
As usual around here, this is a great guest dish, since everyone else in my family prefers the grilled chicken in the buff, no dressing-up. But it's good enough I might still add the fluff just for myself.
I haven't had much time to watch Food Network recently, and when I do, it seems whatever's on is too flashy or hip or competitive or about restaurants -- not stuff I can take into my kitchen. I was sick one day and had little energy to do much more than channel-surf, and caught a Food Network chef I really should like more than I do. Robin Miller does a lot of making a few core items and then using it in different dishes during the whole week. Somehow that never seems to work for me, but it really should. Leftovers are a sorely undervalued commodity in my house.
This recipe seemed almost too simple -- not even a recipe really, just an assembly of simple components. But the idea of melting brie on chicken was too good to resist. Served on top of a spinach salad, it had terrific visual appeal too.
It was pretty easy to make, though the steps about how to melt the brie on the chicken seemed excessive. It melted just fine on the warm chicken taken straight off the grill pan, without the risky step of putting it back onto the grill. The spinach salad was fantastic -- nothing like a little dollop of honey to transform a vinaigrette, and the bacon added a zingy touch to it. Actually, I used the tiny-diced pancetta from Trader Joe's, and "pancetta" just sounds so much more classy than "bacon.
And, as advertised, it shows great.
...though looking at it now, I see it didn't photograph great. Really, that looks like an excessive amount of brie, but it was perfect, especially when parts of dripped down onto the spinach.
As usual around here, this is a great guest dish, since everyone else in my family prefers the grilled chicken in the buff, no dressing-up. But it's good enough I might still add the fluff just for myself.
The New Kitchen
In case anyone ever reads this poor dusty old food blog again, the reason for this hiatus has been the best possible for any cook: a new kitchen!
My last post was at the end of January, when final installation details and coordination and missing materials came to a crescendo. There was a panic about the range hood, delayed flooring, the redesigned island top, the missing sink front pieced, and countless other decisions and things to deal with.
Somehow we got through it all, and moved in to our newly remodeled house on March 18, 2009. And now, almost 4 months later, we're still hardly settled in -- most rooms still have boxes and all the crummy old furniture is still here. But I did set up the kitchen!
My careful planning of where every kitchen item would go mostly worked, with a few notable exceptions (such as the silverware drawer -- situated perfectly for setting the table, but poorly for the 1000 times a day you reach for a knife to spread mayonnaise or a spoon to scoop cottage cheese). I was concerned that the ovens being so far would present a problem, but an oven isn't something you get to frequently during a cooking session. The distance does complicate stovetop-to-broiler items like frittatas, but it's livable.
Did I really need two ovens and six burners? Probably not. Most cooks -- real cooks, not posers like me -- work fine without them. However, I've found some unexpected benefits to both. With two ovens, you don't have to shift racks around as much. The bottom oven has the racks spread out to fit larger items; the top oven for flatter things. My GE Monogram ovens have glide-out racks on rollers, and that is an expected fabulousness, I absolutely love that. I actually have had occasion to use all six cooktop burners at once, but quickly found a major drawback to that: you just can't keep up with six things on the stove! But I love being able to put the three items -- which I frequently do have -- all up front. And the teakettle can stay where it is.
Since moving in, I have done lots of fun cooking and even taken some photos, but putting it together into a post has been tricky. But I'm going to resume food-blogging now, because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a poser kitchen. This one is here to be used.
My last post was at the end of January, when final installation details and coordination and missing materials came to a crescendo. There was a panic about the range hood, delayed flooring, the redesigned island top, the missing sink front pieced, and countless other decisions and things to deal with.
Somehow we got through it all, and moved in to our newly remodeled house on March 18, 2009. And now, almost 4 months later, we're still hardly settled in -- most rooms still have boxes and all the crummy old furniture is still here. But I did set up the kitchen!
My careful planning of where every kitchen item would go mostly worked, with a few notable exceptions (such as the silverware drawer -- situated perfectly for setting the table, but poorly for the 1000 times a day you reach for a knife to spread mayonnaise or a spoon to scoop cottage cheese). I was concerned that the ovens being so far would present a problem, but an oven isn't something you get to frequently during a cooking session. The distance does complicate stovetop-to-broiler items like frittatas, but it's livable.
Did I really need two ovens and six burners? Probably not. Most cooks -- real cooks, not posers like me -- work fine without them. However, I've found some unexpected benefits to both. With two ovens, you don't have to shift racks around as much. The bottom oven has the racks spread out to fit larger items; the top oven for flatter things. My GE Monogram ovens have glide-out racks on rollers, and that is an expected fabulousness, I absolutely love that. I actually have had occasion to use all six cooktop burners at once, but quickly found a major drawback to that: you just can't keep up with six things on the stove! But I love being able to put the three items -- which I frequently do have -- all up front. And the teakettle can stay where it is.
Since moving in, I have done lots of fun cooking and even taken some photos, but putting it together into a post has been tricky. But I'm going to resume food-blogging now, because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a poser kitchen. This one is here to be used.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Banana Blueberry Muffins
Banana-Blueberry Muffins
This book From a baker's kitchen came from an unlikely source: my husband. He researched it carefully, looking for a book that included more than just recipes to help feed my growing baking habit. This one has a lot of information about equipment and methods, and a nice variety of baking recipes that aren't just sweet recipes. It's especially unlikely coming from my husband because he won't have anything to do with muffins.
My 2-year-old used to live on "mana-manas" (bananas). I had to hide them to get her to eat anything else for dinner. Now she refuses everything, including bananas. I still buy bananas, in the dimming hope that her former affinity might revive itself, but I keep underestimating the depth of resistance of a toddler. As a result, I end up with a lot of overripe bananas. And tonight, those bananas met my Baker's Kitchen book.
Nice when the first thing I do with a recipe is leave out one of its title ingredients. Well, sometimes one just must make do. I thought I had frozen blueberries (already unacceptable, as this recipe called for fresh), but they're either buried in the freezer or were long since snagged for something else. I almost used frozen cranberries, but instead made use of some delicious (Warren?) pears that were getting on the soft side anyway.
The method is easy and muffin-universal: mix wet ingredients first, then dry, then put them together carefully. In the first two steps, you mix well. But the combination of wet and dry should be done very carefully, so as not to overdevelop the gluten. And the batter shouldn't be pourable, it should be lumpy and dropped in glops (my word) into the wells. So says the book. This was definitely worth a try.
I was very surprised to see how little sugar this recipe calls for -- only 1/3 a cup. Even adding in the natural sweetness in a banana, that's not much. I routinely cut sugar down by at least a third, but not this one.
I also used half "white whole-wheat flour", which looks so much like plain white flour that I'm not really sure it counts. Half is more whole-wheat than I usually use, but muffins aren't supposed to be super-delicate.
The recipe also called for a higher oven temperature than most muffins -- 400 degrees. I'm not sure what that means exactly, especially since my oven treats temperature as more art than science.
Emboldened by the low sugar content, I made another popular modification: sprinkling a little cinnamon sugar atop the batter before baking. I like how this affects the appearance, and gives the first bite some bite!
My batter came out exactly like the book said it should: thick and lumpy. As a result, the muffins expanded and cracked slightly at the top, and had a nice coarse, but moist texture (lots of pear bits help that I'm sure). I don't think I've ever made true muffins before -- all previous muffins were really cakes in the shape of muffins. But these were unique!
Yummy, pretty.
And pretty yummy. Hearty and substantial, but not heavy, and definitely not oversweet. I don't think I'd change a thing next time!
This book From a baker's kitchen came from an unlikely source: my husband. He researched it carefully, looking for a book that included more than just recipes to help feed my growing baking habit. This one has a lot of information about equipment and methods, and a nice variety of baking recipes that aren't just sweet recipes. It's especially unlikely coming from my husband because he won't have anything to do with muffins.
My 2-year-old used to live on "mana-manas" (bananas). I had to hide them to get her to eat anything else for dinner. Now she refuses everything, including bananas. I still buy bananas, in the dimming hope that her former affinity might revive itself, but I keep underestimating the depth of resistance of a toddler. As a result, I end up with a lot of overripe bananas. And tonight, those bananas met my Baker's Kitchen book.
Nice when the first thing I do with a recipe is leave out one of its title ingredients. Well, sometimes one just must make do. I thought I had frozen blueberries (already unacceptable, as this recipe called for fresh), but they're either buried in the freezer or were long since snagged for something else. I almost used frozen cranberries, but instead made use of some delicious (Warren?) pears that were getting on the soft side anyway.
The method is easy and muffin-universal: mix wet ingredients first, then dry, then put them together carefully. In the first two steps, you mix well. But the combination of wet and dry should be done very carefully, so as not to overdevelop the gluten. And the batter shouldn't be pourable, it should be lumpy and dropped in glops (my word) into the wells. So says the book. This was definitely worth a try.
I was very surprised to see how little sugar this recipe calls for -- only 1/3 a cup. Even adding in the natural sweetness in a banana, that's not much. I routinely cut sugar down by at least a third, but not this one.
I also used half "white whole-wheat flour", which looks so much like plain white flour that I'm not really sure it counts. Half is more whole-wheat than I usually use, but muffins aren't supposed to be super-delicate.
The recipe also called for a higher oven temperature than most muffins -- 400 degrees. I'm not sure what that means exactly, especially since my oven treats temperature as more art than science.
Emboldened by the low sugar content, I made another popular modification: sprinkling a little cinnamon sugar atop the batter before baking. I like how this affects the appearance, and gives the first bite some bite!
My batter came out exactly like the book said it should: thick and lumpy. As a result, the muffins expanded and cracked slightly at the top, and had a nice coarse, but moist texture (lots of pear bits help that I'm sure). I don't think I've ever made true muffins before -- all previous muffins were really cakes in the shape of muffins. But these were unique!
Yummy, pretty.
And pretty yummy. Hearty and substantial, but not heavy, and definitely not oversweet. I don't think I'd change a thing next time!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Vegetable Tian
Vegetable Tian
Most of my Ina recipes come from watching her TV show "Barefoot Contessa" on Food Network. I just love her simple, often elegant recipes and straightforward descriptions, and have a new appreciation for how she prepares things ahead of time and enjoys her guests instead of scrambling in the kitchen. This lady knows how to party.
Turns out, her books are much the same way. My Mom got me Barefoot in Paris for Christmas, and I just love it. My husband and I were invited to a New Year Eve's dinner with vegetarian friends, and asked me to bring a salad. And I did. But I couldn't let it stop there.
So, thumbing through my new cookbook, I came across this Vegetable Tian recipe. Simple, straightforward, prepare in advance -- Ina's fingerprints were all over this one.
I learned quickly that "simple" doesn't always mean "fast" or "easy." A key feature to this dish is the lovely presentation, which means finding tomatoes, potatoes and zucchini of all about the same diameter. Turns out, I'm no good at estimating the diameter of a circle by looking at the circumference of a cylinder! Who knew my inattention to geometry would be a liability in the kitchen. I cut twice as many vegetables as I needed to in order to get roughly same-sized circles. And even halving the recipe, that was a lot of slicing.
Somehow I roped myself into a lot of shopping too. I used baby dutch potatoes from Trader Joe's, plum totatoes from Whole Foods, and zucchini from Safeway. There must be a better way.
A bed of sauteed onions, a blanket of freshly grated gruyere cheese, and this was truly a recipe for simple, elegant fabulousness. The actual baking was a two-step process, which was perfect for preparing ahead of time (bake #1) and bringing to someone else's house and finishing it off (bake #2). With the vegetable disks layered in perfect rows, its beauty belied its simplicity. And the fresh thyme smelled wonderful while baking, earning forgiveness for being such a pain to chop.
The only thing this recipe doesn't do well is be photographed, at least by me. But other than churning up math issues I should have resolved in 6th grade, this was a complete winner. Happy New Year!
Most of my Ina recipes come from watching her TV show "Barefoot Contessa" on Food Network. I just love her simple, often elegant recipes and straightforward descriptions, and have a new appreciation for how she prepares things ahead of time and enjoys her guests instead of scrambling in the kitchen. This lady knows how to party.
Turns out, her books are much the same way. My Mom got me Barefoot in Paris for Christmas, and I just love it. My husband and I were invited to a New Year Eve's dinner with vegetarian friends, and asked me to bring a salad. And I did. But I couldn't let it stop there.
So, thumbing through my new cookbook, I came across this Vegetable Tian recipe. Simple, straightforward, prepare in advance -- Ina's fingerprints were all over this one.
I learned quickly that "simple" doesn't always mean "fast" or "easy." A key feature to this dish is the lovely presentation, which means finding tomatoes, potatoes and zucchini of all about the same diameter. Turns out, I'm no good at estimating the diameter of a circle by looking at the circumference of a cylinder! Who knew my inattention to geometry would be a liability in the kitchen. I cut twice as many vegetables as I needed to in order to get roughly same-sized circles. And even halving the recipe, that was a lot of slicing.
Somehow I roped myself into a lot of shopping too. I used baby dutch potatoes from Trader Joe's, plum totatoes from Whole Foods, and zucchini from Safeway. There must be a better way.
A bed of sauteed onions, a blanket of freshly grated gruyere cheese, and this was truly a recipe for simple, elegant fabulousness. The actual baking was a two-step process, which was perfect for preparing ahead of time (bake #1) and bringing to someone else's house and finishing it off (bake #2). With the vegetable disks layered in perfect rows, its beauty belied its simplicity. And the fresh thyme smelled wonderful while baking, earning forgiveness for being such a pain to chop.
The only thing this recipe doesn't do well is be photographed, at least by me. But other than churning up math issues I should have resolved in 6th grade, this was a complete winner. Happy New Year!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Blini Toasts
Blini Toasts:
It would be nothing short of startling if someone didn't think to get me a Barefoot Contessa book for Christmas, and sure enough, my thoughtful (and French) mother came through with Barefoot in Paris. I was thrilled to find that I'd already made at least 5 recipes in the book, two of which have become staples.
I'd seen Ina make Blini with Smoked Salmon on her show once, and then as I sat down to pore over my new cookbook, came across it again. Great idea!
On the surface, I picked an odd event to try a sophisticated appetizer. But a 5-year-old birthday playdate, with lots of kids and 4 other moms, is, believe it or not, the perfect venue. Most of the time at these things, the moms very rarely sit down, and at any moment might have to drop everything, so small bite-sized "grownup food" is a real treat for them. But they're a discriminating audience too: they don't have time to mess around with anything that's less than great. The proof is how empty the serving plate is in the end.
Rather than making the buckwheat pancakes called for in the recipe, I cheaped out and bought mini-toasts. Ina herself points out, "No one will have less fun if you don't make everything yourself." After you decode the triple negative, that boils down to: "Go ahead -- buy stuff." The core of the recipe is the smoked salmon, creme fraiche, and dill sprig anyway.
But my tub of unopened creme fraiche wasn't fraiche at all. With 20 minutes before guests arrived, I made a hasty switcheroo with sour cream.
Ina calls for putting the salmon directly onto the blini pancakes. I found that the salmon doesn't stick to the dry toasts. You want the whole item to stay together if it gets tipped, so I modified it by putting the sour cream on first. But then, the dill doesn't stick well to the salmon, and the appetizer loses its visual punch -- the dill looks great against the white. The solution was a little dollop of sour cream on either side of the salmon. The downside to this is that the toasts get mushy by the end of the party, but this is worthwhile to have the appetizer stay together.
I say "dollop," but sour cream isn't that easy to dollop. I imagine creme fraiche is worse. I had to use two spoons to push off a drop of sour cream onto the tiny toasts. Come to think of it, investing a moment to put the sour cream into a plastic bag and cutting off the tip to squirt it might have been worthhile.
Modifications and all, these were a huge hit. Even my suspicious husband begrudgingly tried a piece when I pointed out to him that this really is just lox, bagels and cream cheese with herbs (he didn't like the dill though). Next time, I will try the plastic bag for squirting the dairy product of choice, and I think assembly will go much faster. This will be a party staple.
1 pkg 32 mini-toasts (TJs and Whole Foods have them)What, am I writing my own recipe? Only by accident.
1 3-oz pkg smoked salmon
Sour cream
Fresh dillLay out the toasts on a plate. Smear a small dollop of sour cream on each toast. Tear off a piece of salmon, about 1" square (two "ribs" worked), try to pile it on the sour cream smear Drop another bit of sour cream on top Stick a sprig of dill onto the sour cream Serve on a simple white platter for max visual effect
It would be nothing short of startling if someone didn't think to get me a Barefoot Contessa book for Christmas, and sure enough, my thoughtful (and French) mother came through with Barefoot in Paris. I was thrilled to find that I'd already made at least 5 recipes in the book, two of which have become staples.
I'd seen Ina make Blini with Smoked Salmon on her show once, and then as I sat down to pore over my new cookbook, came across it again. Great idea!
On the surface, I picked an odd event to try a sophisticated appetizer. But a 5-year-old birthday playdate, with lots of kids and 4 other moms, is, believe it or not, the perfect venue. Most of the time at these things, the moms very rarely sit down, and at any moment might have to drop everything, so small bite-sized "grownup food" is a real treat for them. But they're a discriminating audience too: they don't have time to mess around with anything that's less than great. The proof is how empty the serving plate is in the end.
Rather than making the buckwheat pancakes called for in the recipe, I cheaped out and bought mini-toasts. Ina herself points out, "No one will have less fun if you don't make everything yourself." After you decode the triple negative, that boils down to: "Go ahead -- buy stuff." The core of the recipe is the smoked salmon, creme fraiche, and dill sprig anyway.
But my tub of unopened creme fraiche wasn't fraiche at all. With 20 minutes before guests arrived, I made a hasty switcheroo with sour cream.
Ina calls for putting the salmon directly onto the blini pancakes. I found that the salmon doesn't stick to the dry toasts. You want the whole item to stay together if it gets tipped, so I modified it by putting the sour cream on first. But then, the dill doesn't stick well to the salmon, and the appetizer loses its visual punch -- the dill looks great against the white. The solution was a little dollop of sour cream on either side of the salmon. The downside to this is that the toasts get mushy by the end of the party, but this is worthwhile to have the appetizer stay together.
I say "dollop," but sour cream isn't that easy to dollop. I imagine creme fraiche is worse. I had to use two spoons to push off a drop of sour cream onto the tiny toasts. Come to think of it, investing a moment to put the sour cream into a plastic bag and cutting off the tip to squirt it might have been worthhile.
Modifications and all, these were a huge hit. Even my suspicious husband begrudgingly tried a piece when I pointed out to him that this really is just lox, bagels and cream cheese with herbs (he didn't like the dill though). Next time, I will try the plastic bag for squirting the dairy product of choice, and I think assembly will go much faster. This will be a party staple.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Blueberry Pancakes
Blueberry Pancakes
I'm only calling these "Blueberry Pancakes" because that's what the recipe says. I usually don't put blueberries in, since I'm the only one in my family who likes blueberries in pancakes (sigh). But the base of recipe -- and technique -- makes for the fluffiest, yummiest buttermilk pancakes I've ever made. The blueberries, to me, are a bonus, easily dropped in per-pancake after they're poured.
This recipe, from a Cook's Illustrated magazine (and I lost the issue with the date, but it's sometime in 2007 or 2008), is fairly simple and has nothing radical in it. It pulls together various elements of good pancakes: some melted butter, a little sugar (my mother would be mortified, but it does add something), and buttermilk.
The real epiphany is the basic idea of mixing wet and dry ingredients separately, then pouring the wet ingredients into a well made in the dry. Then a little verrry careful stirring, with lumps remaining -- that piece of old wisdom applies -- and within a few minutes, right onto a hot griddle. I used to make pancake batter ahead of time, but with this recipe, you can see the batter rising and later falling, so you want to pour it onto the hot griddle at the max rise moment.
The syrup in the background is just for show; we don't even bother with it for these flavorful breakfast treats.
My kids are an easy sell on pancakes, but my husband isn't. So the highest praise came spontaneously, when he called out to me from the kitchen, "These are so yummy!" Random outbursts of approval, especially when it comes to food, are rare indeed from him.
With a great recipe under my belt, now my pancakes' weak spot is my cheap thin griddle, and temporary ceramic smooth electric cooktop. Blah. These are crying for a nice heavy cast-iron griddle with a ton of thermal mass and heat-retention inertia, and a pair of kick-*ss gas burners under it. It's a few months yet until I get my 6-burner DCS cooktop, but one of the first things I'll make is fluffy, yummy pancakes.
I'm only calling these "Blueberry Pancakes" because that's what the recipe says. I usually don't put blueberries in, since I'm the only one in my family who likes blueberries in pancakes (sigh). But the base of recipe -- and technique -- makes for the fluffiest, yummiest buttermilk pancakes I've ever made. The blueberries, to me, are a bonus, easily dropped in per-pancake after they're poured.
This recipe, from a Cook's Illustrated magazine (and I lost the issue with the date, but it's sometime in 2007 or 2008), is fairly simple and has nothing radical in it. It pulls together various elements of good pancakes: some melted butter, a little sugar (my mother would be mortified, but it does add something), and buttermilk.
The real epiphany is the basic idea of mixing wet and dry ingredients separately, then pouring the wet ingredients into a well made in the dry. Then a little verrry careful stirring, with lumps remaining -- that piece of old wisdom applies -- and within a few minutes, right onto a hot griddle. I used to make pancake batter ahead of time, but with this recipe, you can see the batter rising and later falling, so you want to pour it onto the hot griddle at the max rise moment.
The syrup in the background is just for show; we don't even bother with it for these flavorful breakfast treats.
My kids are an easy sell on pancakes, but my husband isn't. So the highest praise came spontaneously, when he called out to me from the kitchen, "These are so yummy!" Random outbursts of approval, especially when it comes to food, are rare indeed from him.
With a great recipe under my belt, now my pancakes' weak spot is my cheap thin griddle, and temporary ceramic smooth electric cooktop. Blah. These are crying for a nice heavy cast-iron griddle with a ton of thermal mass and heat-retention inertia, and a pair of kick-*ss gas burners under it. It's a few months yet until I get my 6-burner DCS cooktop, but one of the first things I'll make is fluffy, yummy pancakes.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Ciabatta Stuffing with Chestnuts and Pancetta
Ciabatta Stuffing with Chestnuts and Pancetta
I'm not a big stuffing fan. But on Christmas Day, with a carb-gobbling family, it seemed like the right thing to do.
This recipe caught my eye on a Giada de Laurentiis show a year ago. I even bought a bag of frozen chestnuts to make it, which languished in my freezer the entire year. Then my talented sister-in-law made a fabulous sausage and bread stuffing for Thanksgiving, and I was intrigued about the concept of meat in stuffing.
I'm not sure this recipe would be possible without Trader Joe's ultra-handy tiny-diced pancetta. What a time-saver. I used a flaxseed ciabatta bread, left out the celery (have I mentioned before, I hate celery), and halved the recipe. To my surprise, the only ingredient I didn't love was the chestnuts. Maybe jarred ones, as the recipe calls for, are moister. And pre-peeled.
When I do like stuffing, it's because it's loaded with apples and raisins, all dealbreakers for my husband. But this stuffing was GREAT. Really tasty, nicely balanced, full of flavor without bowling you over, I think because of the nicely distributed tiny pieces of pancetta. Of all the things I made for Christmas Dinner, this was the standout to me. And it was pretty easy to make, too.
I've never baked stuffing before, so it'll take a little practice to tweak the moisture in it. It was crisp on top, and moist enough for me inside, but my husband would have liked it a tad moister. He missed the celery too, but I draw the line there. Maybe fennel next time. The way Christmas fell for us this year, only my immediate family served as the only testers, so I pretty much knew we would have leftovers. I can usually count on my middle son (my favorite sous-chef, who turns 5 tomorrow) to try things, and he liked it. My older son and daughter...oh, never mind.
And there will certainly be a next time. This stuffing was really, really good. I especially hope to impress my inspiring sister-in-law next year!
I'm not a big stuffing fan. But on Christmas Day, with a carb-gobbling family, it seemed like the right thing to do.
This recipe caught my eye on a Giada de Laurentiis show a year ago. I even bought a bag of frozen chestnuts to make it, which languished in my freezer the entire year. Then my talented sister-in-law made a fabulous sausage and bread stuffing for Thanksgiving, and I was intrigued about the concept of meat in stuffing.
I'm not sure this recipe would be possible without Trader Joe's ultra-handy tiny-diced pancetta. What a time-saver. I used a flaxseed ciabatta bread, left out the celery (have I mentioned before, I hate celery), and halved the recipe. To my surprise, the only ingredient I didn't love was the chestnuts. Maybe jarred ones, as the recipe calls for, are moister. And pre-peeled.
When I do like stuffing, it's because it's loaded with apples and raisins, all dealbreakers for my husband. But this stuffing was GREAT. Really tasty, nicely balanced, full of flavor without bowling you over, I think because of the nicely distributed tiny pieces of pancetta. Of all the things I made for Christmas Dinner, this was the standout to me. And it was pretty easy to make, too.
I've never baked stuffing before, so it'll take a little practice to tweak the moisture in it. It was crisp on top, and moist enough for me inside, but my husband would have liked it a tad moister. He missed the celery too, but I draw the line there. Maybe fennel next time. The way Christmas fell for us this year, only my immediate family served as the only testers, so I pretty much knew we would have leftovers. I can usually count on my middle son (my favorite sous-chef, who turns 5 tomorrow) to try things, and he liked it. My older son and daughter...oh, never mind.
And there will certainly be a next time. This stuffing was really, really good. I especially hope to impress my inspiring sister-in-law next year!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Fig Clafoutis
Fig Clafoutis
Another favorite book that I haven't used enough is Simple Soirees, by Peggy Knickerbocker. I love how it lays out various entertaining menus, though I'm nowhere near well set up to actually follow them. Still, there are plenty of individual recipes to pick out. I'd been meaning to make this one for a while, then forgot about it.
Until one day I had a hankering for a fig, but could only buy them in pints. I love figs, but can only eat so many. Your tongue stings after a few, what's that about? For an unrelated reason, I thumbed through Simple Soirees again, and stumbled across the fig clafoutis recipe I'd backburnered. So for no other reason than the coincidence that I happened to have a near-pint of figs not to waste, I made the clafouti recipe.
I've made a Pear Clafouti before, and loved it. So much so that I searched high and low to find a white 10" round baking dish just for clafoutis, which I found in an unlikely place: a $10 quiche dish at Macy's. So I'm set.
Clafouti (not sure if the 's' in this recipe is part of the name or a plural) is so easy to make there's little to say about it, though clafouti itself is very fun to say. Eggs, cream, sugar, and voila: custard.
The only thing I found about setting fresh figs cut into disks atop the batter is that they sort of floated on the batter, and made for an odd appearance. The recipe says not to worry if they sink, but I wish they had sunk, so they looked less like a pizza topping.
The recipe offers an alternative to fresh figs, which is to reconstitute dried figs in port. Mm! Now we're talking! I think that right there trumps the fresh-fig route. Not to mention, you can make this any time of the year, outside that short weeks-long window when you can buy fresh figs.
Alas, but these are all nits. I love clafoutis, with their mild flavor and ambiguous use (dessert, breakfast, afternoon tea snack). Figs raise them to a new class level. Naturally, I'm the only one in my family who would dream of touching this, so it'll have to wait for a fig-appreciative audience.
Another favorite book that I haven't used enough is Simple Soirees, by Peggy Knickerbocker. I love how it lays out various entertaining menus, though I'm nowhere near well set up to actually follow them. Still, there are plenty of individual recipes to pick out. I'd been meaning to make this one for a while, then forgot about it.
Until one day I had a hankering for a fig, but could only buy them in pints. I love figs, but can only eat so many. Your tongue stings after a few, what's that about? For an unrelated reason, I thumbed through Simple Soirees again, and stumbled across the fig clafoutis recipe I'd backburnered. So for no other reason than the coincidence that I happened to have a near-pint of figs not to waste, I made the clafouti recipe.
I've made a Pear Clafouti before, and loved it. So much so that I searched high and low to find a white 10" round baking dish just for clafoutis, which I found in an unlikely place: a $10 quiche dish at Macy's. So I'm set.
Clafouti (not sure if the 's' in this recipe is part of the name or a plural) is so easy to make there's little to say about it, though clafouti itself is very fun to say. Eggs, cream, sugar, and voila: custard.
The only thing I found about setting fresh figs cut into disks atop the batter is that they sort of floated on the batter, and made for an odd appearance. The recipe says not to worry if they sink, but I wish they had sunk, so they looked less like a pizza topping.
The recipe offers an alternative to fresh figs, which is to reconstitute dried figs in port. Mm! Now we're talking! I think that right there trumps the fresh-fig route. Not to mention, you can make this any time of the year, outside that short weeks-long window when you can buy fresh figs.
Alas, but these are all nits. I love clafoutis, with their mild flavor and ambiguous use (dessert, breakfast, afternoon tea snack). Figs raise them to a new class level. Naturally, I'm the only one in my family who would dream of touching this, so it'll have to wait for a fig-appreciative audience.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Cinnamon-Apple Walnut Torte
Cinnamon-Apple Walnut Torte
(Is it possible it's been two months since I've posted? It's ironic that overseeing a grand new kitchen remodel, baking once a week for the construction crew, and somehow hosting and cooking for parties at our temporary digs has kept me from blogging! Too much cooking, not enough writing.)
I love this book: Coffee Cakes, by Lou Seibert Pappas. I think I picked it up at Borders one day, in one of those browsy moods when you just feel like buying something. Rarely do those purchases work out, but this book has become one of my favorites.
So it's odd that I pick this recipe of all to post about, since it really didn't work out all that well. It's described as a "torte," and uses very little flour, only 1/4 cup. Perhaps I don't know what a "torte" is (OK, I don't), and perhaps I was fooled by the comment that says to bake until the "cake" is set. There was nothing cakey about it. In fact, it was much more like a gooey crisp than a cake, and needed a spoon to be scooped out.
But the bones were unbeatable: how can you go wrong with cinnamon, apples, cranberries and walnuts? As with all the recipes in this book, the taste was unbeatable, and the instructions were clear.
This photo makes it look like it held its shape, but that is the result of careful staging. The texture was more like that of a chunky pudding.
Not that anyone complained -- it's hard to go wrong with cinnamon and apples in the winter -- but when I'm bringing something to a gathering at which most people are sitting on couches with plastic plates teetering on their laps, I like to bring treats that can easily be handled with fingers.
I'll most certainly make this again, since I suspect user error above all else. Meantime, perhaps I'll catch a clue about what a torte is.
And now, I have some more catching up to do!
(Is it possible it's been two months since I've posted? It's ironic that overseeing a grand new kitchen remodel, baking once a week for the construction crew, and somehow hosting and cooking for parties at our temporary digs has kept me from blogging! Too much cooking, not enough writing.)
I love this book: Coffee Cakes, by Lou Seibert Pappas. I think I picked it up at Borders one day, in one of those browsy moods when you just feel like buying something. Rarely do those purchases work out, but this book has become one of my favorites.
So it's odd that I pick this recipe of all to post about, since it really didn't work out all that well. It's described as a "torte," and uses very little flour, only 1/4 cup. Perhaps I don't know what a "torte" is (OK, I don't), and perhaps I was fooled by the comment that says to bake until the "cake" is set. There was nothing cakey about it. In fact, it was much more like a gooey crisp than a cake, and needed a spoon to be scooped out.
But the bones were unbeatable: how can you go wrong with cinnamon, apples, cranberries and walnuts? As with all the recipes in this book, the taste was unbeatable, and the instructions were clear.
This photo makes it look like it held its shape, but that is the result of careful staging. The texture was more like that of a chunky pudding.
Not that anyone complained -- it's hard to go wrong with cinnamon and apples in the winter -- but when I'm bringing something to a gathering at which most people are sitting on couches with plastic plates teetering on their laps, I like to bring treats that can easily be handled with fingers.
I'll most certainly make this again, since I suspect user error above all else. Meantime, perhaps I'll catch a clue about what a torte is.
And now, I have some more catching up to do!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Turkey Osso Buco
Turkey Osso Buco with Parsley and Rosemary Gremolata
It's not often I can be inspired for a recipe from the truly right place: my nose. But this one came straight from there, via our family daycare lady's new husband, who likes to cook Italian. I picked up my daughter one day and olfactory senses were sent straight to heaven. Conveniently, this recipe was online, courtesy Giada di Laurentiis.
My Italian is limited to "grazie," but I'm fairly certain "osso" means "bone." So I went against this recipe first thing, with the title ingredient no less, and used boneless turkey breasts. I know my family better than that, and anything with bones in it doubles the work for me cutting everything up.
Still, the rest of the ingredients are no-brainers: onions, carrots, wine, tomato paste...how can you go wrong? Naturally I omitted the celery, as I was born with the rare CTA (Celery Tastes Awful) gene.
This was overall easy to make, the most labor-intensive thing being chopping herbs for the gremolata (??whazzat??) and that wasn't bad at all. I sure could use a good roasting pan that can easily transfer from the stovetop to the oven though -- the cheap dented one I have kept spinning on the cooktop.
The cooking smells filled the house as promised, and the final result also looked beautiful.
My first attempt at accompanying risotto failed completely, but I just called it "fat dry rice" and no one knew the difference.
My picky husband really liked it, my somewhat-picky son liked it, and my eats-everything son loved it. My daughter, who indirectly started it all, detected the faintest speck of green and instantly rejected it, but with enough exposure to those fabulous smells at her daycare, she'll come around.
It's not often I can be inspired for a recipe from the truly right place: my nose. But this one came straight from there, via our family daycare lady's new husband, who likes to cook Italian. I picked up my daughter one day and olfactory senses were sent straight to heaven. Conveniently, this recipe was online, courtesy Giada di Laurentiis.
My Italian is limited to "grazie," but I'm fairly certain "osso" means "bone." So I went against this recipe first thing, with the title ingredient no less, and used boneless turkey breasts. I know my family better than that, and anything with bones in it doubles the work for me cutting everything up.
Still, the rest of the ingredients are no-brainers: onions, carrots, wine, tomato paste...how can you go wrong? Naturally I omitted the celery, as I was born with the rare CTA (Celery Tastes Awful) gene.
This was overall easy to make, the most labor-intensive thing being chopping herbs for the gremolata (??whazzat??) and that wasn't bad at all. I sure could use a good roasting pan that can easily transfer from the stovetop to the oven though -- the cheap dented one I have kept spinning on the cooktop.
The cooking smells filled the house as promised, and the final result also looked beautiful.
My first attempt at accompanying risotto failed completely, but I just called it "fat dry rice" and no one knew the difference.
My picky husband really liked it, my somewhat-picky son liked it, and my eats-everything son loved it. My daughter, who indirectly started it all, detected the faintest speck of green and instantly rejected it, but with enough exposure to those fabulous smells at her daycare, she'll come around.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Pear Mince Streusel Bars
Pear Mince Streusel Bars
This is ridiculous -- over two months since I've posted?! But I've been baking like crazy. At least once a week, I bake something to bring to the construction crew at our house-under-construction for our weekly Friday jobsite meetings.
I tried this recipe in my quest to solve The Peach Challenge: how to bake with peaches in such a way that can be easily cut up, given away, and consumed with just hands? Most peach-baking is pies and cobblers, strictly plate-and fork affairs.
From my now all-time favorite baking book, "Cookies for Christmas" by Jennifer Darling, this Pear Mince Streusel bar recipe looked like it could be adapted for fruit other than pears. Thanks to my CSA fruit subscription, I had an excess of peaches, plums and pluots, and couldn't bear to throw them away when they got too ripe to eat in hand. So I thought I'd substitute them for pears.
It took me a few tries to get the "bar" concept. You bake a crust first, to give structure to what's really more like a cookie than a cake, and then add filling and topping and bake it again. The filling for this recipe is terrific, and flexible also, using orange juice or brandy, and raisins or currants. I've tossed cranberries in there as well, though anything larger than a currant is supposed to be snipped. As it's cooking, the fruit, brown sugar and brandy fills the house with Christmas-y sorts of scents, it's great.
I had a willing helper who thought snipping raisins was a fine idea.
It took me a try or two to get my oven temperature to cooperate, but I did succeed in making cuttable, holdable, distinct bars. The result has been universally popular, and is an attractive and fun thing to bring to a gathering.
I'm looking forward to trying this with pears!
This is ridiculous -- over two months since I've posted?! But I've been baking like crazy. At least once a week, I bake something to bring to the construction crew at our house-under-construction for our weekly Friday jobsite meetings.
I tried this recipe in my quest to solve The Peach Challenge: how to bake with peaches in such a way that can be easily cut up, given away, and consumed with just hands? Most peach-baking is pies and cobblers, strictly plate-and fork affairs.
From my now all-time favorite baking book, "Cookies for Christmas" by Jennifer Darling, this Pear Mince Streusel bar recipe looked like it could be adapted for fruit other than pears. Thanks to my CSA fruit subscription, I had an excess of peaches, plums and pluots, and couldn't bear to throw them away when they got too ripe to eat in hand. So I thought I'd substitute them for pears.
It took me a few tries to get the "bar" concept. You bake a crust first, to give structure to what's really more like a cookie than a cake, and then add filling and topping and bake it again. The filling for this recipe is terrific, and flexible also, using orange juice or brandy, and raisins or currants. I've tossed cranberries in there as well, though anything larger than a currant is supposed to be snipped. As it's cooking, the fruit, brown sugar and brandy fills the house with Christmas-y sorts of scents, it's great.
I had a willing helper who thought snipping raisins was a fine idea.
It took me a try or two to get my oven temperature to cooperate, but I did succeed in making cuttable, holdable, distinct bars. The result has been universally popular, and is an attractive and fun thing to bring to a gathering.
I'm looking forward to trying this with pears!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Grilled Portobello Mushrooms
Grilled Portobello Mushrooms
Among the various offerings inside a grilled veggie sandwich at a reasonable Italian restaurant I had one day, my favorite was the portobello mushroom. Mild flavor, consistent smooth texture...mm! So when I saw a package of portobello mushrooms at Trader Joe's that afternoon, they were instantly mine. With access to an outdoor gas grill in our rental house, I look for any excuse to grill.
But what recipe? I quickly searched allrecipes.com and found one that called for marinating in a balsamic vinegar mixture. Perfect! I'm into balsamic these days. The recipe called for onion, but I did it with some red onion I had handy anyway. Mix it up, pop it on the grill...sounds easy!
Sure, if you know what you're doing. The recipe called for gill-side-up for grilling the portobellos, making for a little reservoir for the marinade. Leave it on or off? I decided to leave it on and not flip the mushroom.
There's a lot of margin for error in grilling portobellos, I think, because they're perfectly edible uncooked. As much as I love balsamic flavor, the balsamic overwhelmed the mild mushroom flavor, rendering the portobello a mere vehicle for the strong vinegar. But that wasn't so bad.
I really liked this, but it's hard to go wrong with portobellos anyway. As is so often the case, I was the only one in my family who'd even try it. Fine, because I only had two caps anyway.
I need a lot more practice before I dare present this to mushroom aficianados, but I'm looking forward to that.
Among the various offerings inside a grilled veggie sandwich at a reasonable Italian restaurant I had one day, my favorite was the portobello mushroom. Mild flavor, consistent smooth texture...mm! So when I saw a package of portobello mushrooms at Trader Joe's that afternoon, they were instantly mine. With access to an outdoor gas grill in our rental house, I look for any excuse to grill.
But what recipe? I quickly searched allrecipes.com and found one that called for marinating in a balsamic vinegar mixture. Perfect! I'm into balsamic these days. The recipe called for onion, but I did it with some red onion I had handy anyway. Mix it up, pop it on the grill...sounds easy!
Sure, if you know what you're doing. The recipe called for gill-side-up for grilling the portobellos, making for a little reservoir for the marinade. Leave it on or off? I decided to leave it on and not flip the mushroom.
There's a lot of margin for error in grilling portobellos, I think, because they're perfectly edible uncooked. As much as I love balsamic flavor, the balsamic overwhelmed the mild mushroom flavor, rendering the portobello a mere vehicle for the strong vinegar. But that wasn't so bad.
I really liked this, but it's hard to go wrong with portobellos anyway. As is so often the case, I was the only one in my family who'd even try it. Fine, because I only had two caps anyway.
I need a lot more practice before I dare present this to mushroom aficianados, but I'm looking forward to that.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Pan-Seared Ahi with Blood Orange Sauce
Pan-Seared Ahi with Blood Orange Sauce
Ah, TJ's...a never-ending source of inspiration. I try not to buy ingredients without having a basic plan for it, but this Wild Ahi looked too good to pass up. Even if a small package was ten bucks.
This new thing about actually having heat in my temporary kitchen opens all sorts of doors. I've seared fish before, with rubbery results, but with some serious firepower under the pan now, it was worth trying again.
I found this recipe for Pan-Seared Ahi with Blood Orange Sauce on allrecipes.com. Like most reviewers, I didn't happen to have blood oranges, let alone enough to squeeze out a cup, so plain-old store-bought OJ would have to do. I heeded the advice that the recipe calls for far too much cook time, with one reviewer accurately quipping "more than a few minutes, then you might as well open a can of tuna and call it a day."
The sauce was easy to make, and the fish easy enough to cook. The tricky part was: how long? It became immediately clear that the quality of the ingredients, and skill or luck of the cook would make or break it. Well, I managed to cook it in range, despite my lack of familiarity with my hot new cooktop, but another 20 seconds and I'd have gone over. The fish itself was really outstanding to begin with, so it was really mine to mess up.
I loved this. The sauce was light and a little sweet, not overpowering, and a perfect complement to perfectly (well, almost) lightly cooked fish. I will certainly make this again, but only if I find the right fish to begin with.
Bonus: my husband liked it and my sons wouldn't try it! All the more for me!
Ah, TJ's...a never-ending source of inspiration. I try not to buy ingredients without having a basic plan for it, but this Wild Ahi looked too good to pass up. Even if a small package was ten bucks.
This new thing about actually having heat in my temporary kitchen opens all sorts of doors. I've seared fish before, with rubbery results, but with some serious firepower under the pan now, it was worth trying again.
I found this recipe for Pan-Seared Ahi with Blood Orange Sauce on allrecipes.com. Like most reviewers, I didn't happen to have blood oranges, let alone enough to squeeze out a cup, so plain-old store-bought OJ would have to do. I heeded the advice that the recipe calls for far too much cook time, with one reviewer accurately quipping "more than a few minutes, then you might as well open a can of tuna and call it a day."
The sauce was easy to make, and the fish easy enough to cook. The tricky part was: how long? It became immediately clear that the quality of the ingredients, and skill or luck of the cook would make or break it. Well, I managed to cook it in range, despite my lack of familiarity with my hot new cooktop, but another 20 seconds and I'd have gone over. The fish itself was really outstanding to begin with, so it was really mine to mess up.
I loved this. The sauce was light and a little sweet, not overpowering, and a perfect complement to perfectly (well, almost) lightly cooked fish. I will certainly make this again, but only if I find the right fish to begin with.
Bonus: my husband liked it and my sons wouldn't try it! All the more for me!
Friday, July 4, 2008
Endive, Pear, and Roquefort Salad
Endive, Pear, and Roquefort Salad
Yet another little gem from my all-time favorite Barefoot Contessa episode, "French Made Easy." I'm not sure how French this recipe really is, but it sure sounds French when you say "on-DEEV" instead of "en-dIve."
I made this salad in the most intimidating of circumstances: not in my own kitchen, in a rural area in Pennsylvania without access to a Whole Foods, and for a large group of people that included a genuine professional chef -- and my mother. I didn't have Roquefort cheese or champagne vinegar, so ordinary bleu cheese (see, it's French if you write "bleu" instead of "blue"), and very ordinary white wine vinegar would have to do.
I'd never made an emulsified dressing before, but as soon as you put fresh fruit in a salad, I'm willing to try anything. The dressing was actually simple to make, despite needing some actual technique of whisking up the olive oil at the end. Fortunately I was able to find some appropriate pears, Bartletts, and at the right ripeness.
As always, I over-toasted the walnuts and ended up liking them better that way. I don't know if that's a shared sentiment though.
I've had endives in salads before and liked them, so I was surprised when my sister said she found them bitter. And now that I made a whole salad based on endives, I had to agree. In fact, the only thing I didn't like much about this salad, other than the dull cheese, was the endive base itself. They make for a nice presentation, but I think a different "green" would taste better. Maybe radicchio?
Fortunately for me, I'm still in the stage of cooking that everyone wants to encourage me instead of offering genuine criticism (sort of like you always tell your 4-year-old that the picture he drew was great), so reviews all around were good. Still, I think there's much room for improvement the next time -- and there will be a next time, as this simple combination is exactly the sort of twist on basic ingredients that I love.
Yet another little gem from my all-time favorite Barefoot Contessa episode, "French Made Easy." I'm not sure how French this recipe really is, but it sure sounds French when you say "on-DEEV" instead of "en-dIve."
I made this salad in the most intimidating of circumstances: not in my own kitchen, in a rural area in Pennsylvania without access to a Whole Foods, and for a large group of people that included a genuine professional chef -- and my mother. I didn't have Roquefort cheese or champagne vinegar, so ordinary bleu cheese (see, it's French if you write "bleu" instead of "blue"), and very ordinary white wine vinegar would have to do.
I'd never made an emulsified dressing before, but as soon as you put fresh fruit in a salad, I'm willing to try anything. The dressing was actually simple to make, despite needing some actual technique of whisking up the olive oil at the end. Fortunately I was able to find some appropriate pears, Bartletts, and at the right ripeness.
As always, I over-toasted the walnuts and ended up liking them better that way. I don't know if that's a shared sentiment though.
I've had endives in salads before and liked them, so I was surprised when my sister said she found them bitter. And now that I made a whole salad based on endives, I had to agree. In fact, the only thing I didn't like much about this salad, other than the dull cheese, was the endive base itself. They make for a nice presentation, but I think a different "green" would taste better. Maybe radicchio?
Fortunately for me, I'm still in the stage of cooking that everyone wants to encourage me instead of offering genuine criticism (sort of like you always tell your 4-year-old that the picture he drew was great), so reviews all around were good. Still, I think there's much room for improvement the next time -- and there will be a next time, as this simple combination is exactly the sort of twist on basic ingredients that I love.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Grandma's Banana Bread
Grandma's Banana Bread
I haven't posted in a while, but I have a good excuse. Behold my kitchen.
We've moved to a rental house while my miserable old kitchen is being...well, vaporized. That's brought me into the modern age with a cooktop and oven in our rental house that actually work, and it's throwing me for a loop. I haven't boiled water like this for years!
One casualty of our move is my beloved cookbooks, including a (paper!) scrapbook I keep of recipes I find, print, and make notes on. They're still buried in a box somewhere, as was my printer's power cord until recently. So how can I find or follow a recipe? And here I am with some uber-ripe bananas were just crying to be made into banana bread!
The answer sprang out as I struggled to fit baking ingredients onto a shelf...there it was on a bottle of molasses: "Grandma's Banana Bread." Really, just like that, right there. The karma was too strong to resist.
This was a good test of my temporary kitchen setup. Mixing bowls, measures, ingredients, muffin pan...it didn't exactly flow, but things did come together enough for me to actually mix and bake this simple recipe. There's more batter than fits in my Williams-Sonoma 24-well mini-muffin pan (in the medium-sized box under a pile of bath linens), so the overflow went to my Wilton 12-well mini-muffin tin (in the big box of trays and cutting boards in the garage), made from a material that's not as heavy.
And my temporary oven, a perfectly competent Kenmore, actually fits both muffin pans side-by-side!
This is significant, because the muffins baked in the smaller lighter pan had a crust to them, making this sticky recipe a little easier to handle. The muffins in the heavier tin were moister and tastier though. The recipe didn't have baking times for muffins, but with a new oven I had to wing it anyway.
Overall, this recipe is cakier than bready, and the molasses gives it an odd bite that I think is too much. My eats-everything 4-year-old said much the same thing, in kid terms: "Mmm, a little funny-tasting, Mommy." I like banana bread with bigger crumbles, with some semblance of banana remaining in appearance and taste. The orange zest suggestion sounded great, but it too was obliterated by the molasses.
I'm a ways off from being back in business though...in addition to absent cookbooks and strangely arranged utensils, all my usual haunts for foofy ingredients aren't very convenient anymore! Well, if The Next Food Network Star can combine fish and froot loops, then I guess I can shop at Safeway.
I haven't posted in a while, but I have a good excuse. Behold my kitchen.
We've moved to a rental house while my miserable old kitchen is being...well, vaporized. That's brought me into the modern age with a cooktop and oven in our rental house that actually work, and it's throwing me for a loop. I haven't boiled water like this for years!
One casualty of our move is my beloved cookbooks, including a (paper!) scrapbook I keep of recipes I find, print, and make notes on. They're still buried in a box somewhere, as was my printer's power cord until recently. So how can I find or follow a recipe? And here I am with some uber-ripe bananas were just crying to be made into banana bread!
The answer sprang out as I struggled to fit baking ingredients onto a shelf...there it was on a bottle of molasses: "Grandma's Banana Bread." Really, just like that, right there. The karma was too strong to resist.
This was a good test of my temporary kitchen setup. Mixing bowls, measures, ingredients, muffin pan...it didn't exactly flow, but things did come together enough for me to actually mix and bake this simple recipe. There's more batter than fits in my Williams-Sonoma 24-well mini-muffin pan (in the medium-sized box under a pile of bath linens), so the overflow went to my Wilton 12-well mini-muffin tin (in the big box of trays and cutting boards in the garage), made from a material that's not as heavy.
And my temporary oven, a perfectly competent Kenmore, actually fits both muffin pans side-by-side!
This is significant, because the muffins baked in the smaller lighter pan had a crust to them, making this sticky recipe a little easier to handle. The muffins in the heavier tin were moister and tastier though. The recipe didn't have baking times for muffins, but with a new oven I had to wing it anyway.
Overall, this recipe is cakier than bready, and the molasses gives it an odd bite that I think is too much. My eats-everything 4-year-old said much the same thing, in kid terms: "Mmm, a little funny-tasting, Mommy." I like banana bread with bigger crumbles, with some semblance of banana remaining in appearance and taste. The orange zest suggestion sounded great, but it too was obliterated by the molasses.
I'm a ways off from being back in business though...in addition to absent cookbooks and strangely arranged utensils, all my usual haunts for foofy ingredients aren't very convenient anymore! Well, if The Next Food Network Star can combine fish and froot loops, then I guess I can shop at Safeway.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Cranberry Pockets
Cranberry Pockets
Another gem from Cookies for Christmas by Jennifer Darling. By the time Christmas comes around, I'll have made every cookie in this book!
As soon as I saw port in the ingredient list, I waited anxiously for a grown-up event as excuse to make these. Now there's a fun ingredient to dab your fingers into! And I happened to have some "cooking" port, designated for a lamb recipe I still haven't tried.
These cookies required a lot of steps. First, the filling. The recipe calls for dried cranberries, and if I'd had more time to experiment with consistency, I'd have tried fresh cranberries. It seemed like a small amount of filling, but the quantity came out just right. The cranberries, port and sugar actually made more a more subtle filling than I expected. It could have been tarter, but that's really being picky.
The dough was easy enough to make and roll out. I don't know if I'm violating any cookie-rolling statutes, but I chill my dough in a fat disk shape instead of a ball. It's so much easier to roll out that way, and it chills faster. I've also started rolling it on a piece of floured wax paper, using the same plastic wrap I chilled it in on top, to keep the dough from sticking to the rolling pin. This works really well to keep pieces of dough from getting pulled up on the rolling pin, and spares me frequent flouring. I don't think this negatively affects the dough.
Incredibly, I had a 3" cookie cutter -- really, a biscuit cutter. That $2.95 item will justify at least $500 worth of future "you neeeever know when you might need this!" purchases.
Cutting them out, filling and folding -- no problem. As the recipe suggested, I used a fork to seal and flute the edges. More work than drop cookies for sure, but this was so much fun. I'm easily amused when it comes to cookies.
Then, the fun part -- the icing. The recipe calls for "port glaze" and icing, even though the port glaze is also icing of drizzling consistency. It's just confectioner's sugar moistened with port -- mm! Inexplicably, the recipe suggests coloring it, but the port will give it color anyway. I made just port icing, put it in a plastic zipper bag, snipped off a tiny corner, and drizzled away. This is a messy process; the icing always comes out the top of the bag and gets all over your hands. Mm, too bad.
If I had it to do over, and I will, I'd try to make the dough thinner, and put more filling in. Handling 1/8" thick circles of dough is outside my expertise right now, but I sure am going to enjoy learning how. I can't wait for Christmas!
Another gem from Cookies for Christmas by Jennifer Darling. By the time Christmas comes around, I'll have made every cookie in this book!
As soon as I saw port in the ingredient list, I waited anxiously for a grown-up event as excuse to make these. Now there's a fun ingredient to dab your fingers into! And I happened to have some "cooking" port, designated for a lamb recipe I still haven't tried.
These cookies required a lot of steps. First, the filling. The recipe calls for dried cranberries, and if I'd had more time to experiment with consistency, I'd have tried fresh cranberries. It seemed like a small amount of filling, but the quantity came out just right. The cranberries, port and sugar actually made more a more subtle filling than I expected. It could have been tarter, but that's really being picky.
The dough was easy enough to make and roll out. I don't know if I'm violating any cookie-rolling statutes, but I chill my dough in a fat disk shape instead of a ball. It's so much easier to roll out that way, and it chills faster. I've also started rolling it on a piece of floured wax paper, using the same plastic wrap I chilled it in on top, to keep the dough from sticking to the rolling pin. This works really well to keep pieces of dough from getting pulled up on the rolling pin, and spares me frequent flouring. I don't think this negatively affects the dough.
Incredibly, I had a 3" cookie cutter -- really, a biscuit cutter. That $2.95 item will justify at least $500 worth of future "you neeeever know when you might need this!" purchases.
Cutting them out, filling and folding -- no problem. As the recipe suggested, I used a fork to seal and flute the edges. More work than drop cookies for sure, but this was so much fun. I'm easily amused when it comes to cookies.
Then, the fun part -- the icing. The recipe calls for "port glaze" and icing, even though the port glaze is also icing of drizzling consistency. It's just confectioner's sugar moistened with port -- mm! Inexplicably, the recipe suggests coloring it, but the port will give it color anyway. I made just port icing, put it in a plastic zipper bag, snipped off a tiny corner, and drizzled away. This is a messy process; the icing always comes out the top of the bag and gets all over your hands. Mm, too bad.
If I had it to do over, and I will, I'd try to make the dough thinner, and put more filling in. Handling 1/8" thick circles of dough is outside my expertise right now, but I sure am going to enjoy learning how. I can't wait for Christmas!