So far one of the biggest benefits to this blog seems to be that, because of it, I always know what the date is. That is not generally something I know.
My real, paying gig is for a person (who shall remain nameless) who runs a non-profit agency (which, also, shall remain nameless, although I'm sure most of you already know who I work for or could find out without much trouble, but I'm not looking to be fired). This person works 20-hour days, seven days a week, and is always slightly dismayed to discover that her exceptionally loyal, extraordinarily talented staff does not. Nevertheless, I, as well as many of my colleagues, regularly find myself working until 6 p.m. or later.
I have a very small child, and a husband who is a teacher and eats lunch at 11:10 A.M. When I get home, we are all very hungry, and nobody, myself included, has the patience to sit around and wait while I lovingly prepare a four-course meal.
This is my confession: during the week, in spite of all these monumentally slow meals I keep posting recipes for, I rely rather heavily on what can be prepared quickly and easily. Boneless, skinless chicken breasts sliced, seasoned with minced garlic and salt and pepper, sauteed, and tossed with canned tomato sauce, a splash of red wine, and a handful of dried herbs and parmesan cheese and served over pasta is a big hit lately, as is--oh, I am really embarassed here--chili dogs and cole slaw. What can I say? The chili, at least, is homemade, as is the coleslaw.
I haven't tried this recipe, but it's made with things I have around, and according to MSN Lifestyle, where I found it, it takes five minutes to prep and an hour to bake. It's barely cooking, really just mixing and sticking in the oven, but it's better than fast food, I think. You've got an hour, right? I've got an hour. I will try it, probably with a bowl of chili, and I will probably make some attempt at livening it up a bit--maybe some minced onion, maybe some cheese. If you make this, please let me know how it went.
A word about sodium: this has a lot, as well as being high in fat and cholesterol, although there's a little fiber in this and it sounds like a little probably goes a long way. Sodium is one of those things I try to watch because my blood pressure has been up the last few times I've been to the doctor, and I don't want it to complicate my already relatively complicated medical issues. Unsalted butter, no-salt-added canned corn, and, if they make it, no-salt-added creamed corn, could help. So could conserving a little ahead of time when you know you're going to be making this dish. All things in moderation, people, including moderation.
Serves 6.
Cornbread Casserole
1/4 pound butter, melted
1 (15 ounce) can whole kernel corn
1 (15 ounce) can creamed corn
1 (8.5 ounce) package corn bread mix
1 ounce sour cream
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
In a mixing bowl, combine butter, whole corn, cream corn, corn muffin mix and sour cream. Fold all ingredients together, pour into 2 quart casserole dish. Bake for 1 hour.
January 25: Edited: We tried this last night. I stirred in a little hot sauce as well as a handful of shredded cheddar cheese. OH MY GOD, kids, this tastes amazing. It is unbelievably good. It is also incredibly fattening. I could practically feel myself getting fatter as I ate. It was a surprisingly bad feeling, one that really almost overwhelmed my enjoyment of this incredibly decadent side dish. I ate a very modest serving of it, as well as a smallish baked chicken cutlet with panko and a whole lot of salad. Nevertheless, there is more in my refrigerator, and by God, I may wake up at 2 a.m. and have a spoonful of it, straight from the plastic storageware. It will probably approximate the feeling I get when eating Betty Crocker Frosting straight from the container with a spoon.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
January 8: Mushroom Risotto
I struggle with rice a little bit. First of all, I never liked it much until I was in high school. It looked like -- and I apologize in advance for this image -- maggots to me. My mother never made a lot of rice, and when she did, it was Rice a Roni. Hello salt.
I've become a convert, although I still struggle a little bit. I have very little self control, and not lifting the lid to poke at the rice while it's cooking is like torture for me. Torture. And I tend to get distracted and forget about it at some crucial point in the cooking, which means that it burns or gets stuck to the inside of my enameled cast-iron Dutch oven. Why no one has ever tried using overcooked rice as some kind of industrial glue, I will never understand. And I don't make enough rice, for mostly the two reasons mentioned above, to warrant the use of a rice cooker. I am a little persnicketty (you can't imagine how much I've wanted to use the word persnicketty) about kitchen things that only do one thing. An avacado slicer? Already got one. It's called a knife. It doubles as an apple slicer, a chicken slicer, and a slicer of...well, pretty much everything.
The answer, of course, is risotto. Risotto has to be stirred pretty much constantly, and you eliminate the burning/sticking problem and also my lifting-the-lid problem. Risotto is also almost endlessly flexible. I've made a spinach-feta risotto for my mother's birthday dinner, a risotto with pancetta and peas, and even a cheddar-cheese-and-ham risotto with cauliflower for my son, who is 2 1/2, who liked it so much more than I thought he would, as did I--it was a little gooey, a little rich, and I didn't feel guilty, like I would have feeding him Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
This is a fairly basic recipe, yet again from Cook's Illustrated. It's a great fall dish with some kind of braised meaty thing, like short ribs. Risotto is traditional with osso buco, although this may not be the thing to go with it--a lot of competing flavors on one plate. I couldn't find the article when I was looking last night, but I have a memory of Fine Cooking doing an article on risotto and breaking it down into different mix-and-match categories to choose from: aromatics, proteins, vegetables, cheese, herbs, and liquids. I like a nice simple risotto with just onion and garlic, a little parmesan, and some fresh chopped parsley. Risotto can stand alone, or it can be the star of a plate. This one is particularly flexible. Serves 6-8.
Mushroom Risotto
2 bay leaves
6 sprigs fresh thyme
4 sprigs fresh parsley leaves
1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms , rinsed in mesh strainer under running water
3 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 teaspoons soy sauce
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/4 pounds cremini mushrooms , wiped clean with a paper towel, stems discarded, and caps cut into fourths if small or sixths if medium or large
2 medium onions, chopped fine (2 cups)
Salt
3 medium cloves garlic, pressed through garlic press or minced (about 1 tablespoon)
1 pound Arborio rice (2 1/8 cups)
1 cup dry white wine or dry vermouth
2 ounces Parmesan cheese, finely grated (about 1 cup)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley leaves
Ground black pepper
Tie together bay leaves, thyme sprigs, and parsley sprigs with kitchen twine. Bring bundled herbs, porcini mushrooms, chicken broth, soy sauce, and 3 1/2 cups water to boil in medium saucepan over medium-high heat; reduce to medium-low and simmer until dried mushrooms are softened and fully hydrated, about 15 minutes. Remove and discard herb bundle and strain broth through fine-mesh strainer set over medium bowl (you should have about 6 1/2 cups strained liquid); return liquid to saucepan and keep warm over low heat. Finely mince porcini and set aside.
Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 200 degrees. Heat 2 tablespoons butter in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When foaming subsides, add cremini mushrooms, 1 cup onions, and 1/2 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until moisture released by mushrooms evaporates and mushrooms are well browned, about 7 minutes. Stir in garlic until fragrant, about 1 minute, then transfer mushrooms to oven-safe bowl and keep warm in oven. Off heat, add 1/4 cup water to now-empty skillet and scrape with wooden spoon to loosen any browned bits; pour liquid from skillet into saucepan with broth.
Heat 3 tablespoons butter in large saucepan over medium heat. When foaming subsides, add remaining 1 cup onions and 1/4 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are softened and translucent, about 9 minutes. Add rice and cook, stirring frequently, until grains’ edges are transparent, about 4 minutes. Add wine and cook, stirring frequently, until rice absorbs wine. Add minced porcini and 3 1/2 cups broth and cook, stirring every 2 to 3 minutes, until liquid is absorbed, 9 to 11 minutes. Stir in additional 1/2 cup broth every 2 to 3 minutes until rice is cooked through but grains are still somewhat firm at center, 10 to 12 minutes (rice may not require all of broth). Stir in remaining 1 tablespoon butter, then stir in mushrooms (and any accumulated juices), Parmesan, and chopped parsley. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper; serve immediately in warmed bowls.
I've become a convert, although I still struggle a little bit. I have very little self control, and not lifting the lid to poke at the rice while it's cooking is like torture for me. Torture. And I tend to get distracted and forget about it at some crucial point in the cooking, which means that it burns or gets stuck to the inside of my enameled cast-iron Dutch oven. Why no one has ever tried using overcooked rice as some kind of industrial glue, I will never understand. And I don't make enough rice, for mostly the two reasons mentioned above, to warrant the use of a rice cooker. I am a little persnicketty (you can't imagine how much I've wanted to use the word persnicketty) about kitchen things that only do one thing. An avacado slicer? Already got one. It's called a knife. It doubles as an apple slicer, a chicken slicer, and a slicer of...well, pretty much everything.
The answer, of course, is risotto. Risotto has to be stirred pretty much constantly, and you eliminate the burning/sticking problem and also my lifting-the-lid problem. Risotto is also almost endlessly flexible. I've made a spinach-feta risotto for my mother's birthday dinner, a risotto with pancetta and peas, and even a cheddar-cheese-and-ham risotto with cauliflower for my son, who is 2 1/2, who liked it so much more than I thought he would, as did I--it was a little gooey, a little rich, and I didn't feel guilty, like I would have feeding him Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
This is a fairly basic recipe, yet again from Cook's Illustrated. It's a great fall dish with some kind of braised meaty thing, like short ribs. Risotto is traditional with osso buco, although this may not be the thing to go with it--a lot of competing flavors on one plate. I couldn't find the article when I was looking last night, but I have a memory of Fine Cooking doing an article on risotto and breaking it down into different mix-and-match categories to choose from: aromatics, proteins, vegetables, cheese, herbs, and liquids. I like a nice simple risotto with just onion and garlic, a little parmesan, and some fresh chopped parsley. Risotto can stand alone, or it can be the star of a plate. This one is particularly flexible. Serves 6-8.
Mushroom Risotto
2 bay leaves
6 sprigs fresh thyme
4 sprigs fresh parsley leaves
1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms , rinsed in mesh strainer under running water
3 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 teaspoons soy sauce
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/4 pounds cremini mushrooms , wiped clean with a paper towel, stems discarded, and caps cut into fourths if small or sixths if medium or large
2 medium onions, chopped fine (2 cups)
Salt
3 medium cloves garlic, pressed through garlic press or minced (about 1 tablespoon)
1 pound Arborio rice (2 1/8 cups)
1 cup dry white wine or dry vermouth
2 ounces Parmesan cheese, finely grated (about 1 cup)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley leaves
Ground black pepper
Tie together bay leaves, thyme sprigs, and parsley sprigs with kitchen twine. Bring bundled herbs, porcini mushrooms, chicken broth, soy sauce, and 3 1/2 cups water to boil in medium saucepan over medium-high heat; reduce to medium-low and simmer until dried mushrooms are softened and fully hydrated, about 15 minutes. Remove and discard herb bundle and strain broth through fine-mesh strainer set over medium bowl (you should have about 6 1/2 cups strained liquid); return liquid to saucepan and keep warm over low heat. Finely mince porcini and set aside.
Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 200 degrees. Heat 2 tablespoons butter in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When foaming subsides, add cremini mushrooms, 1 cup onions, and 1/2 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until moisture released by mushrooms evaporates and mushrooms are well browned, about 7 minutes. Stir in garlic until fragrant, about 1 minute, then transfer mushrooms to oven-safe bowl and keep warm in oven. Off heat, add 1/4 cup water to now-empty skillet and scrape with wooden spoon to loosen any browned bits; pour liquid from skillet into saucepan with broth.
Heat 3 tablespoons butter in large saucepan over medium heat. When foaming subsides, add remaining 1 cup onions and 1/4 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are softened and translucent, about 9 minutes. Add rice and cook, stirring frequently, until grains’ edges are transparent, about 4 minutes. Add wine and cook, stirring frequently, until rice absorbs wine. Add minced porcini and 3 1/2 cups broth and cook, stirring every 2 to 3 minutes, until liquid is absorbed, 9 to 11 minutes. Stir in additional 1/2 cup broth every 2 to 3 minutes until rice is cooked through but grains are still somewhat firm at center, 10 to 12 minutes (rice may not require all of broth). Stir in remaining 1 tablespoon butter, then stir in mushrooms (and any accumulated juices), Parmesan, and chopped parsley. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper; serve immediately in warmed bowls.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Meatless Main Dish Monday: Pizza Margherita
My best friend is a vegetarian, although I'm not sure you can call it that. She had beef stew for dinner last night, and the last time we visited her in Kentucky, her husband fed us all burgers from the grill. I'm not sure what to call her: a carnivore in training? A whatever-the-hell-I-feel-like-eating-atarian?
Oh well. I come here to feed Kimberly, not to poke her. We were talking the other about how many "vegetarian" entrees are nothing but side dishes, and how at family gatherings she subsists on corn on the cob and bread. There are wonderful vegetarian main dishes out there, many of them coming from cultures where poor people make delicious food with what they have access to. Just ask the Italians or the Mexicans.
So, I pledge to you, my three-or-four readers, meat-free Mondays, and real food, not a side dish that you just eat more of.
I like pizza. I mean, I like making it, not ordering it--although there's something to be said for that as well. But I have a bread machine, a food processor, and a stand mixer, all of which have the capability of making up pizza dough with a minimum of effort on my part. There's a grocery store around the corner. I have an oven. Nothing's stopping me from making it myself. It's as healthy as you want it to be, or not. You can pretty much do whatever you want with it. In the summer, I love to make it on the grill. Invite friends over and they can make their own from a variety of toppings that you prepare. Serve it at a casual cocktail party as part of a small buffet of highly portable nibbles, or to your kids and their friends for a birthday party or sleepover.
This is a classic, named after an Italian queen. The authentic version of this involves an 800-degree oven, two days of proofing dough, and a pizza expert. It's really "just" plain old cheese pizza. Just? People are still eating it, like, a thousand years later is all I'm saying.
Oh, and: I don't use a pizza stone. They're heavy, impossible to clean, and eat up cupboard space. I know, it's sacrelige. Oh well. If you have one, use it. If you don't, a pizza pan or a sheet pan will be just fine. My pizza pans have a perforated bottom. It encourages browning.
From Cook's Illustrated again. Makes 2 12-inch pizzas.
Pizza Margherita
INGREDIENTS
Dough
1 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
1 cup water, room temperature
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting work surface and peel
1 cup cake flour
1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
2 teaspoons sugar
Topping
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 small clove garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press (optional)
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
Table salt
8 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese, patted dry if packed in brine, cut into 1-inch chunks
2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1. FOR THE CRUST: Adjust oven rack to lowest position, set pizza stone on oven rack, and heat oven to 500 degrees. In liquid measuring cup, whisk yeast into water to dissolve. In food processor fitted with metal blade, process flours, salt, and sugar until combined, about 5 seconds. With machine running, slowly add liquid through feed tube; continue to process until dough forms satiny, sticky ball that clears sides of workbowl, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes. (If after 1 minute dough is sticky and clings to blade, add 1 to 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour and continue processing. If dough appears dry and crumbly, add 1 to 2 tablespoons water and process until dough forms ball.) Divide dough in half and shape into smooth, tight balls (see photo 1, below). Place on floured counter or baking sheet, spacing them at least 3 inches apart; cover loosely with plastic wrap coated with nonstick cooking spray and let rise until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.
2. FOR THE TOPPING: In clean bowl of food processor, process tomatoes until crushed, two or three 1-second pulses. Transfer tomatoes to fine-mesh strainer set over bowl and let drain at least 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to release liquids. Just before shaping pizza rounds, combine drained tomatoes, sugar, garlic (if using), 1 tablespoon basil, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in bowl.
3. TO SHAPE AND COOK THE PIZZAS: When dough balls have doubled in size, dust dough liberally with flour and transfer balls to well-floured work surface. Press one ball into 8-inch disk (photo 2). Using flattened palms, gently stretch disk into 12-inch circle, working along outer edge and giving disk quarter turns (photos 3 and 4). Lightly flour pizza peel; lift edges of dough round to brush off any excess flour, then transfer dough to peel. Spread thin layer of tomato topping (about 1/2 cup) over dough with rubber spatula, leaving 1/2-inch border around edge. Slide onto stone and bake until crust begins to brown, about 5 minutes. Remove pizza from oven with peel, close oven door, and top pizza with half of cheese chunks, spaced evenly apart. Return pizza to stone and continue cooking until cheese is just melted, 4 to 5 minutes more. Transfer to cutting board; sprinkle with half of remaining basil, 1 teaspoon olive oil, and pinch salt. Slice and serve immediately. Repeat step 3 to shape, top, and bake second pizza.
Oh well. I come here to feed Kimberly, not to poke her. We were talking the other about how many "vegetarian" entrees are nothing but side dishes, and how at family gatherings she subsists on corn on the cob and bread. There are wonderful vegetarian main dishes out there, many of them coming from cultures where poor people make delicious food with what they have access to. Just ask the Italians or the Mexicans.
So, I pledge to you, my three-or-four readers, meat-free Mondays, and real food, not a side dish that you just eat more of.
I like pizza. I mean, I like making it, not ordering it--although there's something to be said for that as well. But I have a bread machine, a food processor, and a stand mixer, all of which have the capability of making up pizza dough with a minimum of effort on my part. There's a grocery store around the corner. I have an oven. Nothing's stopping me from making it myself. It's as healthy as you want it to be, or not. You can pretty much do whatever you want with it. In the summer, I love to make it on the grill. Invite friends over and they can make their own from a variety of toppings that you prepare. Serve it at a casual cocktail party as part of a small buffet of highly portable nibbles, or to your kids and their friends for a birthday party or sleepover.
This is a classic, named after an Italian queen. The authentic version of this involves an 800-degree oven, two days of proofing dough, and a pizza expert. It's really "just" plain old cheese pizza. Just? People are still eating it, like, a thousand years later is all I'm saying.
Oh, and: I don't use a pizza stone. They're heavy, impossible to clean, and eat up cupboard space. I know, it's sacrelige. Oh well. If you have one, use it. If you don't, a pizza pan or a sheet pan will be just fine. My pizza pans have a perforated bottom. It encourages browning.
From Cook's Illustrated again. Makes 2 12-inch pizzas.
Pizza Margherita
INGREDIENTS
Dough
1 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
1 cup water, room temperature
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting work surface and peel
1 cup cake flour
1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
2 teaspoons sugar
Topping
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 small clove garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press (optional)
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
Table salt
8 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese, patted dry if packed in brine, cut into 1-inch chunks
2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1. FOR THE CRUST: Adjust oven rack to lowest position, set pizza stone on oven rack, and heat oven to 500 degrees. In liquid measuring cup, whisk yeast into water to dissolve. In food processor fitted with metal blade, process flours, salt, and sugar until combined, about 5 seconds. With machine running, slowly add liquid through feed tube; continue to process until dough forms satiny, sticky ball that clears sides of workbowl, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes. (If after 1 minute dough is sticky and clings to blade, add 1 to 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour and continue processing. If dough appears dry and crumbly, add 1 to 2 tablespoons water and process until dough forms ball.) Divide dough in half and shape into smooth, tight balls (see photo 1, below). Place on floured counter or baking sheet, spacing them at least 3 inches apart; cover loosely with plastic wrap coated with nonstick cooking spray and let rise until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.
2. FOR THE TOPPING: In clean bowl of food processor, process tomatoes until crushed, two or three 1-second pulses. Transfer tomatoes to fine-mesh strainer set over bowl and let drain at least 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to release liquids. Just before shaping pizza rounds, combine drained tomatoes, sugar, garlic (if using), 1 tablespoon basil, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in bowl.
3. TO SHAPE AND COOK THE PIZZAS: When dough balls have doubled in size, dust dough liberally with flour and transfer balls to well-floured work surface. Press one ball into 8-inch disk (photo 2). Using flattened palms, gently stretch disk into 12-inch circle, working along outer edge and giving disk quarter turns (photos 3 and 4). Lightly flour pizza peel; lift edges of dough round to brush off any excess flour, then transfer dough to peel. Spread thin layer of tomato topping (about 1/2 cup) over dough with rubber spatula, leaving 1/2-inch border around edge. Slide onto stone and bake until crust begins to brown, about 5 minutes. Remove pizza from oven with peel, close oven door, and top pizza with half of cheese chunks, spaced evenly apart. Return pizza to stone and continue cooking until cheese is just melted, 4 to 5 minutes more. Transfer to cutting board; sprinkle with half of remaining basil, 1 teaspoon olive oil, and pinch salt. Slice and serve immediately. Repeat step 3 to shape, top, and bake second pizza.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
January 6: 30-Minute Tarte Tatin
I am embarassed to admit that I don't bake much. Here's the thing: I am a Type I, or insulin-dependant diabetic. I manage it with a combination of diet, half-hearted exercise, and medication. Yes, I take shots, and yes, it annoys me when people around me freak out about me giving myself a shot. Nobody is threatening you with a hypodermic needle, so stop squawking like a hen. It's one of my biggest pet peeves. Not that you asked.
If I worked out as hard as I could, I could really pretty much eat what I wanted. Insulin is good stuff now and technology allows me to manage my blood sugars pretty closely. Also, I developed this disease at 25. Unless I live to be 130, I'm not so likely to develop some of the problems that diabetics who were diagnosed at age 3 or 4 will have, like kidney disease or heart disease or blindness.
But I am basically lazy and so I curtail what I eat. I rarely ever have dessert in a restaurant, maybe twice a year, and I never have it at home. A special occasion here or there, a birthday, or a quarter-cup of one of my guilty pleasures--ice cream--round out the dozen or so desserts I have in a year. I prefer to save my calories for things like a bowl of spaghetti carbonara or a piece of really good, crunchy, well-seasoned fried chicken. The sweet stuff just doesn't do it for me.
Irregardless of that, I understand the appeal of a dessert, and lots of people like to bake. This tarte tatin from Cook's Illustrated is quick enough to make for weeknight company, and with the whipped cream topping it's luxurious enough for a special occasion for someone who's not interested in baking, like me.
Serves 6-8
30-Minute Tarte Tatin
Ingredients
Puff Pastry
1 sheet frozen puff pastry (9 by 9 1/2 inches), thawed on the counter for 10 minutes
Caramelized Apples
8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick)
3/4 cup granulated sugar (5 1/4 ounces)
2 pounds Granny Smith apples, (6 medium or 4 large), peeled, quartered, and cored
Whipped Sour Cream
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons liqueur, flavored (spiced rum, Calvados, apple liqueur, or Grand Marnier orange liqueur)
1. For the pastry: Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Place the puff pastry on the parchment, prick all over with a fork, and bake until golden brown and puffed, 10 to 12 minutes. Using a wide metal spatula, transfer the baked pastry shell to a cutting board or to a flat serving platter.
2. For the apples: Meanwhile, melt the butter in a 12-inch heavy-bottomed skillet. Remove the pan from the heat and sprinkle evenly with the sugar. Place the apples in the skillet so they are all resting flat side down. Return the skillet to high heat and cook until the juices in the pan turn a rich amber color, 10 to 12 minutes. Using tongs, turn the apples over to the other flat side. Continue to caramelize the apples for an additional 5 minutes.
3. For the topping: Whip the sour cream and heavy cream to soft peaks in the bowl of a standing mixer. Add the liqueur (if desired) and continue to whip to medium-stiff peaks.
4. To assemble: Using tongs, remove the apple slices from the pan one at a time and place in 3 overlapping horizontal rows on the baked pastry square. Spoon about three-quarters of the pan juices over the top of the apples (you can use a pastry brush to dab some of the liquid onto the edges of the pastry). To the leftover liquid in the pan whisk in 2 tablespoons whipped sour cream topping.
5. To serve: Cut the tart in half vertically down the center, and then horizontally into 3 or 4 rows (to serve 6 or 8, respectively). Transfer portions to individual plates and top each with a dollop of whipped sour cream and a drizzle of caramel sauce from pan. Serve immediately.
If I worked out as hard as I could, I could really pretty much eat what I wanted. Insulin is good stuff now and technology allows me to manage my blood sugars pretty closely. Also, I developed this disease at 25. Unless I live to be 130, I'm not so likely to develop some of the problems that diabetics who were diagnosed at age 3 or 4 will have, like kidney disease or heart disease or blindness.
But I am basically lazy and so I curtail what I eat. I rarely ever have dessert in a restaurant, maybe twice a year, and I never have it at home. A special occasion here or there, a birthday, or a quarter-cup of one of my guilty pleasures--ice cream--round out the dozen or so desserts I have in a year. I prefer to save my calories for things like a bowl of spaghetti carbonara or a piece of really good, crunchy, well-seasoned fried chicken. The sweet stuff just doesn't do it for me.
Irregardless of that, I understand the appeal of a dessert, and lots of people like to bake. This tarte tatin from Cook's Illustrated is quick enough to make for weeknight company, and with the whipped cream topping it's luxurious enough for a special occasion for someone who's not interested in baking, like me.
Serves 6-8
30-Minute Tarte Tatin
Ingredients
Puff Pastry
1 sheet frozen puff pastry (9 by 9 1/2 inches), thawed on the counter for 10 minutes
Caramelized Apples
8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick)
3/4 cup granulated sugar (5 1/4 ounces)
2 pounds Granny Smith apples, (6 medium or 4 large), peeled, quartered, and cored
Whipped Sour Cream
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons liqueur, flavored (spiced rum, Calvados, apple liqueur, or Grand Marnier orange liqueur)
1. For the pastry: Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Place the puff pastry on the parchment, prick all over with a fork, and bake until golden brown and puffed, 10 to 12 minutes. Using a wide metal spatula, transfer the baked pastry shell to a cutting board or to a flat serving platter.
2. For the apples: Meanwhile, melt the butter in a 12-inch heavy-bottomed skillet. Remove the pan from the heat and sprinkle evenly with the sugar. Place the apples in the skillet so they are all resting flat side down. Return the skillet to high heat and cook until the juices in the pan turn a rich amber color, 10 to 12 minutes. Using tongs, turn the apples over to the other flat side. Continue to caramelize the apples for an additional 5 minutes.
3. For the topping: Whip the sour cream and heavy cream to soft peaks in the bowl of a standing mixer. Add the liqueur (if desired) and continue to whip to medium-stiff peaks.
4. To assemble: Using tongs, remove the apple slices from the pan one at a time and place in 3 overlapping horizontal rows on the baked pastry square. Spoon about three-quarters of the pan juices over the top of the apples (you can use a pastry brush to dab some of the liquid onto the edges of the pastry). To the leftover liquid in the pan whisk in 2 tablespoons whipped sour cream topping.
5. To serve: Cut the tart in half vertically down the center, and then horizontally into 3 or 4 rows (to serve 6 or 8, respectively). Transfer portions to individual plates and top each with a dollop of whipped sour cream and a drizzle of caramel sauce from pan. Serve immediately.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
January 5: Osso Buco
I first heard the work of former poet laureate Billy Collins in 2002, when he read the poem "The Names" before a joint session of Congress on September 6, 2002 held to memorialize the victims of the September 11th attacks. It was a moving moment for me--I remember sitting still in my car and listening, what National Public Radio calls a "driveway moment."
Collins talks about making poetry accessable and discouraging overinterpretation of poems, something, incidentally, I think is important when it comes to food as well. I love his line in the poem "Introduction to Poetry" about tying a poem to a chair and torturing a confession out of it. He also says this:
I think this is a perfectly lovely sentiment. It reminds me of a good dinner party, how just having the lights on your porch on when your guests walk up can help set the tone for the evening.
In his book The Art Of Drowning, there is a poem called "Osso Buco." I heard him read it on Terry Gross's wonderful show on NPR, Fresh Air, on a Saturday afternoon. Dan and I had just moved in together and he was at work. I'd been up late the night before and had laid down to take an afternoon nap and I woke up to the author reading this:
Osso Buco
I love the sound of the bone against the plate
and the fortress-like look of it
lying before me in a moat of risotto,
the meat soft as the leg of an angel
who has lived a purely airborne existence.
And best of all, the secret marrow,
the invaded privacy of the animal
prized out with a knife and swallowed down
with cold, exhilarating wine.
I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,
a citizen tilted back on his chair,
a creature with a full stomach--
something you don't hear much about in poetry,
that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation.
you know: the driving rain, the boots by the door,
small birds searching for berries in winter.
But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.
She who talks to her faraway friend
while I linger here at the tablewith a hot, companionable cup of tea,
feeling like one of the friendly natives,
a reliable guide, maybe even the chief's favorite son.
Somewhere, a man is crawling up a rocky hillside
on bleeding knees and palms, an Irish penitent
carrying the stone of the world in his stomach;
and elsewhere people of all nations stare
at one another across a long, empty table.
But here, the candles give off their warm glow,
the same light that Shakespeare and Izaac Walton wrote by,
the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history.
Only now it plays on the blue plates,
the crumpled napkins, the crossed knife and fork.
In a while, one of us will go up to bedand the other will follow.
Then we will slip below the surface of the night
into miles of water, drifting down and down
to the dark, soundless bottom
until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still,
below the shale and layered rock,
beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure,
into the broken bones of the earth itself,
into the marrow of the only place we know.
Really beautiful, and not so much about braised veal shanks. But it's a wonderful meal too, for a cold Saturday night at home with your own poet laureate or for a small group of friends. The Silver Palate Cookbook, one of my much-used kitchen tools, suggests serving it with saffron rice. I think that it is wonderful with mashed potatoes as well. I think that a full stick of butter is a little too much in this recipe. I use 1/2-1/3 of what is called for and am always very happy with the results.
Serves 6-8
Osso Buco
Ingredients
1 cup unbleached all purpose flour
salt & pepper to taste
16 sections veal shank, 12-14 pounds, 2 inches thick
1/2 cup olive oil
1 stick sweet butter
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
6 large garlic cloves, peeeled & chopped
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
28 ounces canned tomatoes, drained
2 cups dry white wine
2 cups beef stock
3/4 cup chopped Italian parsley
grated zest of 2 lemons
Season the flour with salt and pepper and dredge the pieces of veal shank well. Heat oil and butter together in a large casserole or Dutch oven and brown the veal well on all sides. Transfer veal to paper towels to drain.
Chop onions and garlic and add to Dutch oven/casserole pan along with basil and oregano. Stir occassionally. Cook for 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste and cook another 10 minutes. Skim excess fat. Add wine and bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 F. Return veal shanks to the casserole & add beef stock just to cover. Cover and bake for 1 1/2 hours. Remove lid and bake uncovered for 30 minutes, or until veal is tender. Sprinkle with parley & lemon zest and serve.
Collins talks about making poetry accessable and discouraging overinterpretation of poems, something, incidentally, I think is important when it comes to food as well. I love his line in the poem "Introduction to Poetry" about tying a poem to a chair and torturing a confession out of it. He also says this:
"As I'm writing, I'm always reader conscious. I have one reader in mind, someone who is in the room with me, and who I'm talking to, and I want to make sure I don't talk too fast, or too glibly. Usually I try to create a hospitable tone at the beginning of a poem. Stepping from the title to the first lines is like stepping into a canoe. A lot of things can go wrong."
I think this is a perfectly lovely sentiment. It reminds me of a good dinner party, how just having the lights on your porch on when your guests walk up can help set the tone for the evening.
In his book The Art Of Drowning, there is a poem called "Osso Buco." I heard him read it on Terry Gross's wonderful show on NPR, Fresh Air, on a Saturday afternoon. Dan and I had just moved in together and he was at work. I'd been up late the night before and had laid down to take an afternoon nap and I woke up to the author reading this:
Osso Buco
I love the sound of the bone against the plate
and the fortress-like look of it
lying before me in a moat of risotto,
the meat soft as the leg of an angel
who has lived a purely airborne existence.
And best of all, the secret marrow,
the invaded privacy of the animal
prized out with a knife and swallowed down
with cold, exhilarating wine.
I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,
a citizen tilted back on his chair,
a creature with a full stomach--
something you don't hear much about in poetry,
that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation.
you know: the driving rain, the boots by the door,
small birds searching for berries in winter.
But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.
She who talks to her faraway friend
while I linger here at the tablewith a hot, companionable cup of tea,
feeling like one of the friendly natives,
a reliable guide, maybe even the chief's favorite son.
Somewhere, a man is crawling up a rocky hillside
on bleeding knees and palms, an Irish penitent
carrying the stone of the world in his stomach;
and elsewhere people of all nations stare
at one another across a long, empty table.
But here, the candles give off their warm glow,
the same light that Shakespeare and Izaac Walton wrote by,
the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history.
Only now it plays on the blue plates,
the crumpled napkins, the crossed knife and fork.
In a while, one of us will go up to bedand the other will follow.
Then we will slip below the surface of the night
into miles of water, drifting down and down
to the dark, soundless bottom
until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still,
below the shale and layered rock,
beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure,
into the broken bones of the earth itself,
into the marrow of the only place we know.
Really beautiful, and not so much about braised veal shanks. But it's a wonderful meal too, for a cold Saturday night at home with your own poet laureate or for a small group of friends. The Silver Palate Cookbook, one of my much-used kitchen tools, suggests serving it with saffron rice. I think that it is wonderful with mashed potatoes as well. I think that a full stick of butter is a little too much in this recipe. I use 1/2-1/3 of what is called for and am always very happy with the results.
Serves 6-8
Osso Buco
Ingredients
1 cup unbleached all purpose flour
salt & pepper to taste
16 sections veal shank, 12-14 pounds, 2 inches thick
1/2 cup olive oil
1 stick sweet butter
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
6 large garlic cloves, peeeled & chopped
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
28 ounces canned tomatoes, drained
2 cups dry white wine
2 cups beef stock
3/4 cup chopped Italian parsley
grated zest of 2 lemons
Season the flour with salt and pepper and dredge the pieces of veal shank well. Heat oil and butter together in a large casserole or Dutch oven and brown the veal well on all sides. Transfer veal to paper towels to drain.
Chop onions and garlic and add to Dutch oven/casserole pan along with basil and oregano. Stir occassionally. Cook for 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste and cook another 10 minutes. Skim excess fat. Add wine and bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 F. Return veal shanks to the casserole & add beef stock just to cover. Cover and bake for 1 1/2 hours. Remove lid and bake uncovered for 30 minutes, or until veal is tender. Sprinkle with parley & lemon zest and serve.
Friday, January 4, 2008
January 4: Homemade Stocks
Holy frick, is it cold here. I am a cold-weather person, if you want to know--I would much rather be too cold than too hot. It feels good to warm up; cooling down just makes me feel crusty as the sweat dries. It was 19 degrees when I left home this morning, and it's a bit of a hike to the bus stop. The bus was late too. As much of a fan of public transportation as I am--holy frick, is it cold here.
One of my favorite things about winter is the food, especially the soups. I love mushroom soup and chicken noodle soup and beef stew (see yesterday) and butternut squash soup and carrot-ginger soup. Soup is comforting and filling and full of significance to its maker. I am embarassed to admit that I was never a fan of my mother's soups; she always threw one or two too many random ingredients in. My husband, however, still requests Campbell's Tomato Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on cold days.
Pat Conroy, who is a novelist also well-known for his food writing, has said that, unless you make your own stocks as the base for your soups, you may as well not bother. I wouldn't go that far--I think there's something to be said for the ease of browning a few chopped vegetables, poaching chicken breasts in store-bought low-sodium stock, and throwing in a few handfuls of egg noodles shortly before you're hoping to eat--but I think that knowing how to make your own stock, and better yet, keeping a small store of it in your freezer, is empowering and creates convenience for an everyday home cook. And besides, they taste good, and this isn't complicated work. It's worth doing.
Let me say a word about the necessity of not letting stocks boil: once more, it's better living through science. When you boil a pot full of chicken wings or backs or drumsticks, it jars loose fat, which gets suspended in the liquid, and makes a cloudy, less-clean tasting stock. You don't want that. Simmer: to cook over low heat, so that a few bubbles rise slowly. If your stove won't allow you to hold your food at a low simmer, get or make a flame tamer--you can use heavy-duty aluminum foil to wrap into a sort of a collar that sits on your burner, between the pot and the burner. It will keep things a little cooler to moderate that simmer.
Makes 2 quarts.
Homemade Chicken Stock
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 medium onion, chopped
4 pounds whole chicken legs or backs and wingtips, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 quarts water (boiling)
1/2 teaspoon table salt
2 bay leaves
Heat oil in large stockpot over medium-high heat until shimmering; add onion and cook until slightly softened, 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer onion to large bowl. Brown chicken in two batches, cooking on each side until lightly browned, about 5 minutes per side. Transfer cooked chicken to bowl with onion. Return onion and chicken to pot. Reduce heat to low, cover, and sweat until chicken releases its juices, about 20 minutes. Increase heat to high; add boiling water, salt, and bay leaves. Bring to boil, then reduce heat to low; cover and simmer slowly until stock is rich and flavorful, about 20 minutes, skimming foam off surface, if desired.
Strain broth and discard solids. Before using, defat stock. After stock has been refrigerated, the fat hardens on the surface and is very easy to remove with a spoon. To defat hot stock, use a ladle or fat separator.
Hey, how about this: I am unable to find a recipe for a quick beef stock. I know there's one in Pat Conroy's cookbook, but I don't currently have it in hand. Honestly, I don't think there's a way to speed up this process. America's Test Kitchen uses low-sodium chicken broth in very nearly all of their recipes where beef stock would be used, with small amounts of store-bought beef broth of the low-sodium variety in combination with the chicken in places where it really can't be avoided, while still giving appallingly bad reviews to nearly every widely-available brand. If it's so bad, America's Test Kitchen, why don't you give us a recipe for one that is less awful?
Epicurious is equally bad--their recipe calls for beef and veal shanks, specially cut crosswise by a butcher into 1-inch pieces. I do not have a butcher. I could probably find one, but I'm almost always happy with the meat that I find in my local grocery store--with a few outrageously expensive roasts or steaks for special occasions coming from Whole Foods or D.C.'s Eastern Market. I won't bore you.
My suggestion is this: use a low-sodium beef broth, in a 1-to-1 ratio of a combination with chicken stock, as well as well-browned meat and fond and veggies, for whatever your recipe calls for in the department of beef broth or stock. I will continue to seek out a recipe that streamlines the process. If you have one, please let me know.
One of my favorite things about winter is the food, especially the soups. I love mushroom soup and chicken noodle soup and beef stew (see yesterday) and butternut squash soup and carrot-ginger soup. Soup is comforting and filling and full of significance to its maker. I am embarassed to admit that I was never a fan of my mother's soups; she always threw one or two too many random ingredients in. My husband, however, still requests Campbell's Tomato Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on cold days.
Pat Conroy, who is a novelist also well-known for his food writing, has said that, unless you make your own stocks as the base for your soups, you may as well not bother. I wouldn't go that far--I think there's something to be said for the ease of browning a few chopped vegetables, poaching chicken breasts in store-bought low-sodium stock, and throwing in a few handfuls of egg noodles shortly before you're hoping to eat--but I think that knowing how to make your own stock, and better yet, keeping a small store of it in your freezer, is empowering and creates convenience for an everyday home cook. And besides, they taste good, and this isn't complicated work. It's worth doing.
These stocks are a jumping-off point--you can jump off to Italian Wedding soup, minestrone, French Onion gratinee, old-fashioned chicken-noodle, beef-barley. I like them with just some egg noodles simmered with a few tablespoons of chopped fresh parsley, or some rice and a few sauteed mushrooms. What I'm saying is, they're good enough for you to eat them plain--a welcome change from the salty, chemical-tasting boullion cubes or the tinny, artificial canned broths that too many cooks are left depending on.
Let me say a word about the necessity of not letting stocks boil: once more, it's better living through science. When you boil a pot full of chicken wings or backs or drumsticks, it jars loose fat, which gets suspended in the liquid, and makes a cloudy, less-clean tasting stock. You don't want that. Simmer: to cook over low heat, so that a few bubbles rise slowly. If your stove won't allow you to hold your food at a low simmer, get or make a flame tamer--you can use heavy-duty aluminum foil to wrap into a sort of a collar that sits on your burner, between the pot and the burner. It will keep things a little cooler to moderate that simmer.
Makes 2 quarts.
Homemade Chicken Stock
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 medium onion, chopped
4 pounds whole chicken legs or backs and wingtips, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 quarts water (boiling)
1/2 teaspoon table salt
2 bay leaves
Heat oil in large stockpot over medium-high heat until shimmering; add onion and cook until slightly softened, 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer onion to large bowl. Brown chicken in two batches, cooking on each side until lightly browned, about 5 minutes per side. Transfer cooked chicken to bowl with onion. Return onion and chicken to pot. Reduce heat to low, cover, and sweat until chicken releases its juices, about 20 minutes. Increase heat to high; add boiling water, salt, and bay leaves. Bring to boil, then reduce heat to low; cover and simmer slowly until stock is rich and flavorful, about 20 minutes, skimming foam off surface, if desired.
Strain broth and discard solids. Before using, defat stock. After stock has been refrigerated, the fat hardens on the surface and is very easy to remove with a spoon. To defat hot stock, use a ladle or fat separator.
Hey, how about this: I am unable to find a recipe for a quick beef stock. I know there's one in Pat Conroy's cookbook, but I don't currently have it in hand. Honestly, I don't think there's a way to speed up this process. America's Test Kitchen uses low-sodium chicken broth in very nearly all of their recipes where beef stock would be used, with small amounts of store-bought beef broth of the low-sodium variety in combination with the chicken in places where it really can't be avoided, while still giving appallingly bad reviews to nearly every widely-available brand. If it's so bad, America's Test Kitchen, why don't you give us a recipe for one that is less awful?
Epicurious is equally bad--their recipe calls for beef and veal shanks, specially cut crosswise by a butcher into 1-inch pieces. I do not have a butcher. I could probably find one, but I'm almost always happy with the meat that I find in my local grocery store--with a few outrageously expensive roasts or steaks for special occasions coming from Whole Foods or D.C.'s Eastern Market. I won't bore you.
My suggestion is this: use a low-sodium beef broth, in a 1-to-1 ratio of a combination with chicken stock, as well as well-browned meat and fond and veggies, for whatever your recipe calls for in the department of beef broth or stock. I will continue to seek out a recipe that streamlines the process. If you have one, please let me know.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
January 3: Two Beef Stews
My best friend is pregnant, just at the start of her second trimester. I am so thrilled I can barely stand it; I would not have been more excited if I were pregnant myself. I remember what it was like to be pregnant--tired all the time, food holding less than no appeal--and yet I know she's interested in food and cooking, if for no other reason than she has to fuel herself and her husband.
I received the following email from her today:
As it turns out, I have just the thing for you, Kimberly. Two beef stews, both delicious, both from America's Test Kitchen. This is their Hearty Beef Stew recipe, with a few modifications. It's simple and straightforward and classic. It serves six to eight.
INGREDIENTS
3 pounds stew meat, or chuck roast cut into 1-inch cubes
1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium onions, chopped coarse (about 2 cups)
3 medium cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 cup dry red wine, like burgandy or pinot noir
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme
6 small boiling potatoes, peeled and halved
4 large carrots , peeled and sliced 1/4-inch thick
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves
Heat oven to 300 degrees. Place beef cubes in large bowl. Sprinkle with salt and pepper; toss to coat. Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium-high heat in large nonreactive Dutch oven; add beef to kettle in two separate batches. Brown meat on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch, adding remaining tablespoon of oil if needed. Remove meat and set aside. Add onions to now empty kettle; sauté until almost softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and add garlic; continue to sauté about 30 seconds longer. Stir in flour; cook until lightly colored, 1 to 2 minutes. Add wine, scraping up any browned bits that may have stuck to kettle. Add stock, bay leaves, and thyme; bring to simmer. Add meat; return to simmer. Cover and place in oven; simmer about 1 hour.
2. Remove Dutch oven from oven, add potatoes and carrots, cover, and return to oven. Simmer until meat is just tender, about 1 hour. Remove stew from oven. (Can be cooled, covered, and refrigerated up to 3 days.)
3. Add peas and allow to stand 5 minutes. Stir in parsley, adjust seasonings, and serve.
Let me just say this: I know you don't have a Dutch oven, Kimberly, and the reason I know you don't is because your Dutch oven is still in a box in my pantry. I keep forgetting to give it to you. You can make this on the stove top too, just keep it at a barely bubbling simmer. You can also make it in a slow-cooker: just brown the meat first and simmer it on low for a couple of hours, then add the potatoes and carrots and simmer it for a couple more hours, then the peas just before serving.
The next recipe, also from America's Test Kitchen, is my favorite beef stew recipe. I love to serve this over garlic mashed potatoes when I am feeling very ambitious, and when I'm not, buttered egg noodles. I want to emphasize the necessity of finding blade steaks for this recipe--they are tender and beautifully marbled and a little bit of a pain to prep for this. It involves trimming the meat away from a line of gristle that runs through the center of each steak. It is worth it. It serves six.
Carbonnade a la Flamande—Belgian Beef, Beer, and Onion Stew
3 1/2 pounds blade steaks , 1 inch thick, trimmed of gristle and fat and cut into 1-inch pieces Table salt and ground black pepper
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 pounds yellow onions (about 3 medium), halved and sliced about 1/4 inch thick (about 8 cups)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 medium cloves garlic, minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
3/4 cup low-sodium beef broth
1 1/2 cups beer (12-ounce bottle or can) -- a dark or amber ale works best
4 sprigs fresh thyme, tied with kitchen twine
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1. Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position; heat oven to 300 degrees. Dry beef thoroughly with paper towels, then season generously with salt and pepper. Heat 2 teaspoons oil in large heavy-bottomed Dutch oven over medium-high heat until beginning to smoke; add about one-third of beef to pot. Cook without moving pieces until well browned, 2 to 3 minutes; using tongs, turn each piece and continue cooking until second side is well browned, about 5 minutes longer. Transfer browned beef to medium bowl. Repeat with additional 2 teaspoons oil and half of remaining beef. (If drippings in bottom of pot are very dark, add about 1/2 cup of above-listed chicken or beef broth and scrape pan bottom with wooden spoon to loosen browned bits; pour liquid into bowl with browned beef, then proceed.) Repeat once more with 2 teaspoons oil and remaining beef.
2. Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil to now-empty Dutch oven; reduce heat to medium-low. Add onions, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and tomato paste; cook, scraping bottom of pot with wooden spoon to loosen browned bits, until onions have released some moisture, about 5 minutes. Increase heat to medium and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are lightly browned, 12 to 14 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add flour and stir until onions are evenly coated and flour is lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Stir in broths, scraping pan bottom to loosen browned bits; stir in beer, thyme, bay, vinegar, browned beef with any accumulated juices, and salt and pepper to taste. Increase heat to medium-high and bring to full simmer, stirring occasionally; cover partially, then place pot in oven. Cook until fork inserted into beef meets little resistance, about 2 to 2 1/2 hours.
3. Discard thyme and bay. Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper to taste and serve. (Can be cooled and refrigerated in airtight container for up to 4 days; reheat over medium-low heat.)
As for the cornbread or corn muffins you asked about, America's Test Kitchen, whose opinions I have a great deal of confidence in, has tested different brands and suggest two: Jiffy Brand, which comes in a blue-and-white box, and Betty Crocker, which comes in a pouch. I have to admit to you that I am not a fan of cornbread, and not the best source of information on the subject.
Not, however, that not being an expert on a subject has ever stopped me from giving my opinion. It's a problem.
I received the following email from her today:
"You need to post a beef stew recipe on your kitchen blog tomorrow. I am a vegetarian. turns out, my baby is not, and I'm craving red meat like you just have no idea. Red meat and milk. Go figure. So I want to make beef stew and I have no clue about how to do it. And if you have a good cornbread or cornbread muffin recipe to go with it, that would be good too. Just, you know, supporting your endeavors and all."
As it turns out, I have just the thing for you, Kimberly. Two beef stews, both delicious, both from America's Test Kitchen. This is their Hearty Beef Stew recipe, with a few modifications. It's simple and straightforward and classic. It serves six to eight.
INGREDIENTS
3 pounds stew meat, or chuck roast cut into 1-inch cubes
1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium onions, chopped coarse (about 2 cups)
3 medium cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 cup dry red wine, like burgandy or pinot noir
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme
6 small boiling potatoes, peeled and halved
4 large carrots , peeled and sliced 1/4-inch thick
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves
Heat oven to 300 degrees. Place beef cubes in large bowl. Sprinkle with salt and pepper; toss to coat. Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium-high heat in large nonreactive Dutch oven; add beef to kettle in two separate batches. Brown meat on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch, adding remaining tablespoon of oil if needed. Remove meat and set aside. Add onions to now empty kettle; sauté until almost softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and add garlic; continue to sauté about 30 seconds longer. Stir in flour; cook until lightly colored, 1 to 2 minutes. Add wine, scraping up any browned bits that may have stuck to kettle. Add stock, bay leaves, and thyme; bring to simmer. Add meat; return to simmer. Cover and place in oven; simmer about 1 hour.
2. Remove Dutch oven from oven, add potatoes and carrots, cover, and return to oven. Simmer until meat is just tender, about 1 hour. Remove stew from oven. (Can be cooled, covered, and refrigerated up to 3 days.)
3. Add peas and allow to stand 5 minutes. Stir in parsley, adjust seasonings, and serve.
Let me just say this: I know you don't have a Dutch oven, Kimberly, and the reason I know you don't is because your Dutch oven is still in a box in my pantry. I keep forgetting to give it to you. You can make this on the stove top too, just keep it at a barely bubbling simmer. You can also make it in a slow-cooker: just brown the meat first and simmer it on low for a couple of hours, then add the potatoes and carrots and simmer it for a couple more hours, then the peas just before serving.
The next recipe, also from America's Test Kitchen, is my favorite beef stew recipe. I love to serve this over garlic mashed potatoes when I am feeling very ambitious, and when I'm not, buttered egg noodles. I want to emphasize the necessity of finding blade steaks for this recipe--they are tender and beautifully marbled and a little bit of a pain to prep for this. It involves trimming the meat away from a line of gristle that runs through the center of each steak. It is worth it. It serves six.
Carbonnade a la Flamande—Belgian Beef, Beer, and Onion Stew
3 1/2 pounds blade steaks , 1 inch thick, trimmed of gristle and fat and cut into 1-inch pieces Table salt and ground black pepper
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 pounds yellow onions (about 3 medium), halved and sliced about 1/4 inch thick (about 8 cups)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 medium cloves garlic, minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
3/4 cup low-sodium beef broth
1 1/2 cups beer (12-ounce bottle or can) -- a dark or amber ale works best
4 sprigs fresh thyme, tied with kitchen twine
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1. Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position; heat oven to 300 degrees. Dry beef thoroughly with paper towels, then season generously with salt and pepper. Heat 2 teaspoons oil in large heavy-bottomed Dutch oven over medium-high heat until beginning to smoke; add about one-third of beef to pot. Cook without moving pieces until well browned, 2 to 3 minutes; using tongs, turn each piece and continue cooking until second side is well browned, about 5 minutes longer. Transfer browned beef to medium bowl. Repeat with additional 2 teaspoons oil and half of remaining beef. (If drippings in bottom of pot are very dark, add about 1/2 cup of above-listed chicken or beef broth and scrape pan bottom with wooden spoon to loosen browned bits; pour liquid into bowl with browned beef, then proceed.) Repeat once more with 2 teaspoons oil and remaining beef.
2. Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil to now-empty Dutch oven; reduce heat to medium-low. Add onions, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and tomato paste; cook, scraping bottom of pot with wooden spoon to loosen browned bits, until onions have released some moisture, about 5 minutes. Increase heat to medium and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are lightly browned, 12 to 14 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add flour and stir until onions are evenly coated and flour is lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Stir in broths, scraping pan bottom to loosen browned bits; stir in beer, thyme, bay, vinegar, browned beef with any accumulated juices, and salt and pepper to taste. Increase heat to medium-high and bring to full simmer, stirring occasionally; cover partially, then place pot in oven. Cook until fork inserted into beef meets little resistance, about 2 to 2 1/2 hours.
3. Discard thyme and bay. Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper to taste and serve. (Can be cooled and refrigerated in airtight container for up to 4 days; reheat over medium-low heat.)
As for the cornbread or corn muffins you asked about, America's Test Kitchen, whose opinions I have a great deal of confidence in, has tested different brands and suggest two: Jiffy Brand, which comes in a blue-and-white box, and Betty Crocker, which comes in a pouch. I have to admit to you that I am not a fan of cornbread, and not the best source of information on the subject.
Not, however, that not being an expert on a subject has ever stopped me from giving my opinion. It's a problem.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
January 2: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Dijon, Walnuts, & Crisp Crumbs
My husband's nephew Justin is 19. He lives with my in-laws and is attending his first semester of nursing school, and he is, all things considered, an amazing kid. He is responsible, bright, thoughtful, funny, with a wide variety of interests, including food. He is a great cook--he prepared a wide variety of sushi and sashimi for the family Christmas get-together this year, and it was pretty fun to watch my husband's aunt and uncle, who rarely eat anything that Uncle Phil or one of his brothers hasn't shot himself, uneasily approach what they would ordinarily have considered bait.
One of the family stories that I heard shortly after beginning to date my husband is about Justin as a four-year-old. His grandmother, my mother-in-law, was preparing brussels sprouts for dinner one night as Justin watched with interest. She steamed them and buttered them and served them, and Justin, well accustomed to the rule that everyone tried everything at the dinner table, ate a brussels sprout. He chewed, swallowed, and asked, "How can something so cute taste so yucky?"
I've had a lot of mushy, overcooked, skunky-tasting brussels sprouts too, but what I'm in love with is a perfectly cooked, nutty, fresh-flavored vegetable. As Fine Cooking magazine points in December's issue, the best favor you can do for yourself when cooking this vegetable is cutting it into a shape that suits the cooking method: quarters for roasting, slices for braising, and shredded for sauteing.
The recipe from this article that I particularly love is this one, made with ingredients I keep in my pantry. If you like, you can prepare the breadcrumbs up to two hours ahead of time.
Serves six to eight.
Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Dijon, Walnuts & Crispy Breadcrumbs
From Fine Cooking Magazine, December 2007, by Martha Holmberg
Ingredients
1/4 cup plus 1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tsp caraway seeds, toasted lightly and crushed
3/4 tsp kosher salt; more to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed, cut through the core into quarters
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup coarse fresh breadcumbs
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Position racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven and heat the oven to 400 F. Line two rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, whisk 1/4 cup of the olive oil with the mustard, Worcestershire sauce, caraway seeds, 1/2 tsp of the salt, and about ten grinds of pepper. Add the Brussels sprouts and toss to thoroughly distribute the mustard mixture. Spread the sprouts in an even layer on the two baking sheets.
Roast until the cores of the sprouts are just barely tender and the leaves are browning and crisping a bit, 20 to 25 minutes (if your oven heat is uneven, rotate the pans midway through cooking).
While the sprouts are roasting, make the topping: line a plate with two layers of paper towel. Heat the remaining 1 Tbsp oil with the butter in a medium (10 inch) nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When the butter has stopped foaming, add the breadcrumbs all at once; toss to coat with the fat. Reduce the heat to medium, add the walnuts and the remaining 1/4 tsp salt, and cook, stirring constantly, until the crumbs are browned and slightly crisp and the nuts are golden, 4 to 6 minutes. Dump the breadcrumb mixture onto the paper towels to drain the excess fat.
Transfer the sprouts to a serving bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper if necessary. Sprinkle the crumbs over the sprouts just before serving.
One of the family stories that I heard shortly after beginning to date my husband is about Justin as a four-year-old. His grandmother, my mother-in-law, was preparing brussels sprouts for dinner one night as Justin watched with interest. She steamed them and buttered them and served them, and Justin, well accustomed to the rule that everyone tried everything at the dinner table, ate a brussels sprout. He chewed, swallowed, and asked, "How can something so cute taste so yucky?"
I've had a lot of mushy, overcooked, skunky-tasting brussels sprouts too, but what I'm in love with is a perfectly cooked, nutty, fresh-flavored vegetable. As Fine Cooking magazine points in December's issue, the best favor you can do for yourself when cooking this vegetable is cutting it into a shape that suits the cooking method: quarters for roasting, slices for braising, and shredded for sauteing.
The recipe from this article that I particularly love is this one, made with ingredients I keep in my pantry. If you like, you can prepare the breadcrumbs up to two hours ahead of time.
Serves six to eight.
Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Dijon, Walnuts & Crispy Breadcrumbs
From Fine Cooking Magazine, December 2007, by Martha Holmberg
Ingredients
1/4 cup plus 1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tsp caraway seeds, toasted lightly and crushed
3/4 tsp kosher salt; more to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed, cut through the core into quarters
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup coarse fresh breadcumbs
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Position racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven and heat the oven to 400 F. Line two rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, whisk 1/4 cup of the olive oil with the mustard, Worcestershire sauce, caraway seeds, 1/2 tsp of the salt, and about ten grinds of pepper. Add the Brussels sprouts and toss to thoroughly distribute the mustard mixture. Spread the sprouts in an even layer on the two baking sheets.
Roast until the cores of the sprouts are just barely tender and the leaves are browning and crisping a bit, 20 to 25 minutes (if your oven heat is uneven, rotate the pans midway through cooking).
While the sprouts are roasting, make the topping: line a plate with two layers of paper towel. Heat the remaining 1 Tbsp oil with the butter in a medium (10 inch) nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When the butter has stopped foaming, add the breadcrumbs all at once; toss to coat with the fat. Reduce the heat to medium, add the walnuts and the remaining 1/4 tsp salt, and cook, stirring constantly, until the crumbs are browned and slightly crisp and the nuts are golden, 4 to 6 minutes. Dump the breadcrumb mixture onto the paper towels to drain the excess fat.
Transfer the sprouts to a serving bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper if necessary. Sprinkle the crumbs over the sprouts just before serving.
Fashonista Vintage Floral Bib Apron
My grandmother, as she aged, cooked less and less, but I have memories of her in the kitchen going all the way back to my earliest childhood. She was the daughter of German immigrants, and she liked hearty, sensible, economical food. She made an incredibly simple chopped cabbage salad with an oil-and-lemon juice dressing that was unbeatable, and apparently impossible to reproduce, despite the repeated attempts by her family. She was neither an adventurous nor an exotic eater--pizza was just about as far afield as she would go.
My grandmother died more than three years ago. When I saw these aprons for sale at Wrapables.com, it was almost like she was standing in front of me again. She would have chosen them not for their style or color, both of which I love, but for their practical nature and usefulness--my gran liked to wear clothes several times before washing them, and so strove to keep them as clean as possible for as long as possible--a feat, I am certain, that was difficult while raising four children above a grocery store. These are are neither practical nor useful for me, but I almost ordered them anyway. I could hear her saying, "Well, that seems like a fine waste of your money, Miss Molly."
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
January 1: Pasta With Sausage and Peppers
When my husband, Dan, and I were first dating, we used to go to the local farmer's market on Saturday mornings. We are both food nerds, and the farmer's market was full of good inspiration. Plus, we worked together, and we were never sure if we'd get fired for dating, so a date in a place where we weren't likely to run into anyone who knew us, except possibly my mother, was a good thing.
There was a guy there who used to run an Italian sausage sandwich stand. It was a little heavy-duty for breakfast, but I am not really a breakfast person, and heavy-duty for breakfast, to me, just means salad for lunch. There was some connection to the swarthy, mustachioed guy who ran it and my parents--I think that they had been friends with his parents--but his sandwiches were just amazing. He had hot or mild sausages, and I always ordered mine smothered in grilled onions and peppers, with a smear of dark mustard on the Italian bread.
Dan has problems with bell peppers--he likes them, but they don't like him. And anytime he gets some by accident, we both suffer; Dan from indigestion and me from the green cloud that lingers over our bed all night. I modify this meal slightly for him and leave out the peppers, but the beauty of this dish is that you can leave out or throw in almost anything you like. I've put in some sliced mushrooms that needed to be used up, I've omitted the tomatoes or replaced the canned ones with fresh ones in the summer. However you do it, this is a quick, uncomplicated meal of big flavors and, if you can control yourself, fabulous leftovers. It always reminds me of the first summer that Dan and I were together and the sandwiches from Papa's Italian Sausage.
Serve it with a simple green salad and a loaf of crusty bread. Serves 4.
Pasta With Sausage and Peppers
1 1/2-2 pounds of Italian Sausage Links--hot, sweet, or a combination
2 bell peppers of whatever color looks good in your market, cut into 1/2 inch strips
1 red onion, peeled and sliced 1/4 inch thick lengthwise
2 tsp. balsalmic vinegar
1 can Muir Glen organic fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1/2 tsp dried oregano or 2 tsp fresh oregano, chopped
Pinch of dried red chile
Salt and pepper to taste
Freshly grated parmagiano-reggiano or romano cheese
1 pound dried pasta--a short hollow shape is good, like rigatoni or penne, cooked according to package directions, drained, and kept hot
Prick the sausage links all over with the tip of a short knife. In a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, cook the sausages in enough water to come about 1/3 of the way up the sides of the sausages, turning frequently. The water will evaporate and the fat will render; when the water is gone, lower the heat to medium. Remove the sausages from the pan and set aside. Drain all but 1/2 tablespoon of fat from the pan and discard.
Saute the peppers and onions with salt and pepper to taste in the reserved rendered sausage fat until lightly browned and softened, about three minutes. Add the oregano, crushed red pepper, and balsalmic vinegar, then add the tomatoes and simmer until slightly thickened, about 10 minutes.
While it simmers, slice the sausages 1/3-1/2 inch thick. Slide back into the tomato sauce and simmer another two or three minutes, or until sausage is re-heated. Toss in pasta and transfer to a heated pasta bowl and serve immediately, with cheese to sprinkle over.
There was a guy there who used to run an Italian sausage sandwich stand. It was a little heavy-duty for breakfast, but I am not really a breakfast person, and heavy-duty for breakfast, to me, just means salad for lunch. There was some connection to the swarthy, mustachioed guy who ran it and my parents--I think that they had been friends with his parents--but his sandwiches were just amazing. He had hot or mild sausages, and I always ordered mine smothered in grilled onions and peppers, with a smear of dark mustard on the Italian bread.
Dan has problems with bell peppers--he likes them, but they don't like him. And anytime he gets some by accident, we both suffer; Dan from indigestion and me from the green cloud that lingers over our bed all night. I modify this meal slightly for him and leave out the peppers, but the beauty of this dish is that you can leave out or throw in almost anything you like. I've put in some sliced mushrooms that needed to be used up, I've omitted the tomatoes or replaced the canned ones with fresh ones in the summer. However you do it, this is a quick, uncomplicated meal of big flavors and, if you can control yourself, fabulous leftovers. It always reminds me of the first summer that Dan and I were together and the sandwiches from Papa's Italian Sausage.
Serve it with a simple green salad and a loaf of crusty bread. Serves 4.
Pasta With Sausage and Peppers
1 1/2-2 pounds of Italian Sausage Links--hot, sweet, or a combination
2 bell peppers of whatever color looks good in your market, cut into 1/2 inch strips
1 red onion, peeled and sliced 1/4 inch thick lengthwise
2 tsp. balsalmic vinegar
1 can Muir Glen organic fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1/2 tsp dried oregano or 2 tsp fresh oregano, chopped
Pinch of dried red chile
Salt and pepper to taste
Freshly grated parmagiano-reggiano or romano cheese
1 pound dried pasta--a short hollow shape is good, like rigatoni or penne, cooked according to package directions, drained, and kept hot
Prick the sausage links all over with the tip of a short knife. In a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, cook the sausages in enough water to come about 1/3 of the way up the sides of the sausages, turning frequently. The water will evaporate and the fat will render; when the water is gone, lower the heat to medium. Remove the sausages from the pan and set aside. Drain all but 1/2 tablespoon of fat from the pan and discard.
Saute the peppers and onions with salt and pepper to taste in the reserved rendered sausage fat until lightly browned and softened, about three minutes. Add the oregano, crushed red pepper, and balsalmic vinegar, then add the tomatoes and simmer until slightly thickened, about 10 minutes.
While it simmers, slice the sausages 1/3-1/2 inch thick. Slide back into the tomato sauce and simmer another two or three minutes, or until sausage is re-heated. Toss in pasta and transfer to a heated pasta bowl and serve immediately, with cheese to sprinkle over.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)