Oh, has it really been a week? It feels like a month. I have never been away from this blog for this long, and I don't really think it would serve anyone's purpose for me to start ranting and raving about the "forces of evil" that have kept me away. Suffice it to say that while they are not gone, they are under control. Very little can keep Annalena from her appointed rounds.
It has been said that people who are anxious crave sweets. Perhaps it is a sign of anxiety that I am writing, over and over again, about sweet things. I am going to try to change that, in things to come, but one of the things you have to remember is that, regardless of who the cook is, s/he falls into patterns. If I am cooking the same things that I have cooked and written about before, I'm not going to write about them again. So that is why you are seeing less. The late summer/early fall is a time when , as we transition into "true" fall, cooks are trying to use their favorite summer things, over and over again, because we won't see them again until next year. As I see the berries diminish in quantity, feel myself craving pears instead of peaches, and so on, and so forth, I can see that there is a fundamental change going on, as I cook up the tomatoes, the green beans, and all the other things that won't be here for a while. So rather than repeat....
The last time I wrote was about concord grape sorbet. The response to it this year has been overwhelming , even though, to my palette, the grapes really haven't been ripe enough yet. There is a tartness to them that suggests they are being picked a bit too young, and I'm adding more sugar to the sorbet than I would like; however, as I say, people have enjoyed the sorbet immensely.
Some years ago, I began thinking "wouldn't a peanut butter ice cream be wonderful with grape pie?" My ice cream of choice for that luscious dessert had always been good quality homemade vanilla. I didn't have a peanut butter ice cream. Well, one day, while investigating other recipes for grape pie (I use Richard Sax's wonderful version), I found that the queen of pie, Rose Levy Berenbaum, had included a recipe for peanut butter ice cream in her book. Hmmmm. If she took the same care with ice cream as she did with pie... And she has. And it's wonderful.
The fact that I have actually MADE this has already garnered me a marriage proposal, from a sweet friend. A VERY sweet friend. I do not believe that bigamy is the right thing for me, but under the circumstances.....
Anyway, I want to present this to you. It's really good on its own, and dynamic with the grape sorbet. It is almost like having a frozen version of that wonderful comfort food, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
And, let's have a show of hands: how many of you out there are "closet" peanut butter lovers? How many of you have stopped eating it, because it's "just for kids?" I'm one of you and I've gotta get over it. Making this ice cream, and tasting the ingredient along the way, was like getting reacquainted with someone I haven't seen for many, many years.
You may find yourself thinking "I like crunchy peanut butter, I'm going to use that in the recipe." Please don't. In the cooking process, the nuts in crunch peanut butter get very soft and unappetizing. What you can do is crush some roasted peanuts and put them over the ice cream, and that will work better. You can also try putting them into the ice cream at the very last minute, but this is tricky.
Finally, don't leave out the salt. It does the trick. It's just a bit, but it is worth it.
You will need a heaping half cup of peanut butter, the smooth kind. The original recipe called for nine tablespoons. I'm not going to measure that out. Eight tablespoons is half a cup. So I just heap it up. You will also need six egg yolks, 2 cups of heavy cream, a cup of milk, a cup of sugar, and a quarter teaspoon of salt.
The order in which you make this ice cream differs from most. That is largely the result of the very fatty peanut butter. But I think that if you do the standard form of dissolving sugar into the dairy, and then adding the eggs, you could do that too.
In any event, here's what you do. Take the milk and cream, and scald it. That means just heat it until you have little bubbles around the edge of the pot. While that's happening, combine the salt, sugar and egg yolks and beat them all together, until you have a uniform mess. It's thick and ugly, but it's okay. Now, take about a quarter cup of your dairy and stir it into the egg mixture, before s tirring all of the egg mixture into the dairy. Cook it gently, until it thickens. You know the look. It's got to coat the back of the spoon. When that happens, take it off the heat and stir in the p eanut butter. Stir gently. It will dissolve, but it will take a few minutes. Then, let the whole thing cool until it's cool enough to chill in the fridge, before you use the ice cream maker.
I can't imagine making grape sorbet without making this as well. In the winter, when we start eating bananas again, I suspect that there may be a "banana split" concoction of some kind maybe with optional chocolate sauce on it.
I think you could probably work chocolate chips into this as well, and it would be good, if you like chocolate. I may offer some of them to one of our dear friends when we eat it this week.
Ok, my lovelies, back into the kitchen with all of us. Next one will be a savory. I promise.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Grapes, without wrath
One of the signs that summer is ending and autumn is coming, is the appearance of grapes. All kinds of them. If you can stand back and look at a season at a bit of a distance, you have periods where things are available and in season that you never really think about as "together". Today, at the Market, there were peaches, raspberries, apples, pears, and grapes. In two weeks, I bet that won't be the case. In a month, it certainly won't be. But the time is NOW, and this is what we have to work with.
I've been buying and using table grapes for a few weeks. The early, seedless varieities "Nimrod" and "Canadace," which are green and red, respectively. But today, my favorites, the concords showed up. And again, while it may seem like I need a life, I got as excited about the concords as I did when rhubarb showed up earlier this year.
Concords are the "quintessential" American grape. My research reveals that they were not one of the original fruits that colonists found when they got to what became the United States, but were the result of a breeding program with wild grapes (scuppernongs for you word collectors). "Vitis labrusca" as they are called, or "fox grapes." Why they are called fox grapes, no one seems to know; however, the flavor that concords have is called "foxy." There's a musky, deepness to them that is unique . You won't find that flavor in other grapes. Their dark purple color is , at least to me, a sign of the transition from summer to autumn: dark purple plums, figs, blackberries, elderberries, concord grapes. We move from red, to dark purple. And the flavors do , too.
Almost no one sells concords in a supermarket. Again, my research shows that there are several reasons for this. One is that consumers do not care for grapes with seeds. And concords DEFINITELY have seeds. Hard ones. If you suffer from diverticulitis, they can be a problem. They also have a very, VERY thick skin. Many people find the feel of that skin very displeasing. And ironically, even with their thick skin, they are very delicate, and damage easily. I guess in food marketing "tough but tender" just doesn't cut it. Oh well.
When you get concord grapes, you may think they need to be washed, because they have a "dust" about them, or so it seems. If you're that nervous about pesticides and that kind of thing, rub them with a paper towel or a cloth, and do it GENTLY. Don't wash them. Like strawberries, there's a lot of flavor right up there in the top layer (we chemists call them "fruit esters), and you'll pour it right down the drain with the wash water.
Concords don't keep that well. If you buy them on a Monday, plan on eating them by Wednesday, or doing something like I'm going to suggest to you in the following recipe.
People tell me that the best ice cream I make is either my strawberry or my peach ice cream. And that's fine. For my taste, concord grape sorbet is the pinnacle of all frozen desserts. It's simple to make, and again, it's worth having one of those little ice cream makers, just for this. One of my favorite dessert chefs suggests freezing bags of the grapes so that you can make it during the winter, when the season is over. I've tried that, and didn't find the flavor all that appealing. Nor did I find making the sorbet from premade juice all that tasty. So , make it now, while the grapes are here.
To make a quart of sorbet, you'll need a good three pounds of grapes. The hardest thing you're going to do is pull them all off the stems. Put them into a big pot, add a quarter cup of water, and cover the pot. Cook the grapes at very low heat until you've got a good mass of broken down grapes, and a lot of juice. Every pound of grapes will yield about a cup of juice. Keep that in mind when you get to sweetening the juice for sorbet.
While the grape mix is still hot, strain it. Push down hard on the solids if you use a colander, and if you use a food mill (my preferred utensil for this), don't press down all that heavily, because you don't want to crush seeds. You DO want all the flavor that's in the skin. Then add sugar to the hot juice. You'll want about a quarter cup of sugar, per cup of juice. But hold some back and taste the juice. Sometimes the grapes will be very sweet and you'll want less. DO keep in mind that when the stuff is frozen, it won't taste as sweet. You may also want to balance the flavor with a drop or two of lemon juice. The lemon juice will also help to stabilize the color. Some people add a tablespoon of corn syrup as well, to smooth out the finished product. I have never found it necessary or helpful. "Six of one, half a dozen of the other." Then chill the juice, and use your ice cream maker to make the best sorbet you'll ever have. Put a scoop of it next to vanilla ice cream, or peanut butter ice cream, or both, for an incredible fall dessert.
If you just don't feel up to the sorbet, after you've cooked down the grapes, sweeten the juice and drink the stuff as a beverage. There's a Venetian concoction where they mix grape juice with prosecco, and you could do that too. It's GOOD. I think it's called a Rossini, but that may be with cranberry juice. It's definitely named after a musician. The 60s drink "the purple Jesus" is grape juice and vodka, and you've got the makings of that as well. Or, just freeze the juice, and maybe the stuff will work for you in the winter, when you want to recall that "Foxy flavor" as they call it.
Up and coming: concord grape pie. In my opinion, the most underrated and underrappreciated dessert in all of cooking, except in Naples New York, where they have a grape pie contest, every year.
I've been buying and using table grapes for a few weeks. The early, seedless varieities "Nimrod" and "Canadace," which are green and red, respectively. But today, my favorites, the concords showed up. And again, while it may seem like I need a life, I got as excited about the concords as I did when rhubarb showed up earlier this year.
Concords are the "quintessential" American grape. My research reveals that they were not one of the original fruits that colonists found when they got to what became the United States, but were the result of a breeding program with wild grapes (scuppernongs for you word collectors). "Vitis labrusca" as they are called, or "fox grapes." Why they are called fox grapes, no one seems to know; however, the flavor that concords have is called "foxy." There's a musky, deepness to them that is unique . You won't find that flavor in other grapes. Their dark purple color is , at least to me, a sign of the transition from summer to autumn: dark purple plums, figs, blackberries, elderberries, concord grapes. We move from red, to dark purple. And the flavors do , too.
Almost no one sells concords in a supermarket. Again, my research shows that there are several reasons for this. One is that consumers do not care for grapes with seeds. And concords DEFINITELY have seeds. Hard ones. If you suffer from diverticulitis, they can be a problem. They also have a very, VERY thick skin. Many people find the feel of that skin very displeasing. And ironically, even with their thick skin, they are very delicate, and damage easily. I guess in food marketing "tough but tender" just doesn't cut it. Oh well.
When you get concord grapes, you may think they need to be washed, because they have a "dust" about them, or so it seems. If you're that nervous about pesticides and that kind of thing, rub them with a paper towel or a cloth, and do it GENTLY. Don't wash them. Like strawberries, there's a lot of flavor right up there in the top layer (we chemists call them "fruit esters), and you'll pour it right down the drain with the wash water.
Concords don't keep that well. If you buy them on a Monday, plan on eating them by Wednesday, or doing something like I'm going to suggest to you in the following recipe.
People tell me that the best ice cream I make is either my strawberry or my peach ice cream. And that's fine. For my taste, concord grape sorbet is the pinnacle of all frozen desserts. It's simple to make, and again, it's worth having one of those little ice cream makers, just for this. One of my favorite dessert chefs suggests freezing bags of the grapes so that you can make it during the winter, when the season is over. I've tried that, and didn't find the flavor all that appealing. Nor did I find making the sorbet from premade juice all that tasty. So , make it now, while the grapes are here.
To make a quart of sorbet, you'll need a good three pounds of grapes. The hardest thing you're going to do is pull them all off the stems. Put them into a big pot, add a quarter cup of water, and cover the pot. Cook the grapes at very low heat until you've got a good mass of broken down grapes, and a lot of juice. Every pound of grapes will yield about a cup of juice. Keep that in mind when you get to sweetening the juice for sorbet.
While the grape mix is still hot, strain it. Push down hard on the solids if you use a colander, and if you use a food mill (my preferred utensil for this), don't press down all that heavily, because you don't want to crush seeds. You DO want all the flavor that's in the skin. Then add sugar to the hot juice. You'll want about a quarter cup of sugar, per cup of juice. But hold some back and taste the juice. Sometimes the grapes will be very sweet and you'll want less. DO keep in mind that when the stuff is frozen, it won't taste as sweet. You may also want to balance the flavor with a drop or two of lemon juice. The lemon juice will also help to stabilize the color. Some people add a tablespoon of corn syrup as well, to smooth out the finished product. I have never found it necessary or helpful. "Six of one, half a dozen of the other." Then chill the juice, and use your ice cream maker to make the best sorbet you'll ever have. Put a scoop of it next to vanilla ice cream, or peanut butter ice cream, or both, for an incredible fall dessert.
If you just don't feel up to the sorbet, after you've cooked down the grapes, sweeten the juice and drink the stuff as a beverage. There's a Venetian concoction where they mix grape juice with prosecco, and you could do that too. It's GOOD. I think it's called a Rossini, but that may be with cranberry juice. It's definitely named after a musician. The 60s drink "the purple Jesus" is grape juice and vodka, and you've got the makings of that as well. Or, just freeze the juice, and maybe the stuff will work for you in the winter, when you want to recall that "Foxy flavor" as they call it.
Up and coming: concord grape pie. In my opinion, the most underrated and underrappreciated dessert in all of cooking, except in Naples New York, where they have a grape pie contest, every year.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Me and Mary Ann: my favorite 'chocolate' cake
For years, I watched Mary Ann Esposito on television. I LOVE her. I just LOVE her. The first time I introduced her show to Guy he said, prophetically "She reminds me of YOU." I was stunned, because the man was right. We DO cook very much the same way. And - get this - her husband's name is Guy. When I finally got to meet her, face to face, we howled over that story. We chatted in Italian, and she invited me up to the podium of her cooking demo, to make breadsticks with her. I floated on a cloud all the way home. Later, Guy and I took a cooking class with her - YEARS later. She remembered us. I hope to see her again sometime. She's real people, the way many cooks are. With an understanding of having to cook under pressure, sometimes without ingredients you might want, and always on a budget.
My favorite one of her books is "Nella Cucina," and this recipe comes from there. The cake was a standard for Guy, when he was the "Betty Crocker" of his chorus, and ran the bakesale. Now that he is alternating with members of a team, I'm going to pass the recipe on.
When we make this cake, we double it and make two. It's another cake where you have to cut it in the pan. Usually. There's a lot of orange juice in it, and when fruit juice cooks, it gets very sticky. Keep that in mind. Also keep in mind that, when you choose your ricotta, pick a GOOD one. Don't buy the ghastly supermarket stuff. Find a good Italian latticini freschi, or a good farmers market purveyor. It WILL make the difference. If you're 24, with the metabolism of a hamster, use the mascarpone option. It makes a richer cake. But mascarpone is more expensive. And if you're doing this for a bake sale, save some money.
For each, 8 inch cake, you need 2 cups of flour, 2 cups of sugar and a teaspoon of baking soda. Also half a teaspoon of salt. Put these together, and stir them
Melt one stick of unsalted butter. Then add half a cup of strong espresso. I make it by dissolving twice the recommended amount of instant espresso into boiling water. You could use coffee, too, if you have it and not espresso powder. You also need to squeeze some orange juice. Half a cup. That's two, maybe three oranges. You don't need surgical precision here. If you have too much, dont worry. If you have too little, don't worry. Just stir everything together, and add a quarter cup of cocoa. Again, stay away from supermarket stuff - you know, the "quick " stuff. Get a good, unsweetened cocoa. Watch how dark everything gets in the pan. Add all of this to the flour mixture and stir it up. Finally , beat in half a cup of either ricotta, or mascarpone that you've left at room temperature, and two eggs. If you want, add some almond extract. In my opinion, it takes away from the orange flavor.
Pour this into a well greased - REALLY well greased 8 inch pan, and bake it in a 350 degree, preheated oven, for at least 45 minutes. I say "at least," because in about 2 of 3 times, 45 minutes hasn't been enough time. If it's soft and soupy in the center, let it cook for another fifteen minutes.
This is a wonderful cake, just to have around. The orange is subtle, but it's there. The cheese adds richness, and the cocoa , mixed with all of those fats, "blossoms" and tastes like a rich chocolate bar.
I think if you try this., it may become your "house" chocolate cake. Everyone needs one of those.
My favorite one of her books is "Nella Cucina," and this recipe comes from there. The cake was a standard for Guy, when he was the "Betty Crocker" of his chorus, and ran the bakesale. Now that he is alternating with members of a team, I'm going to pass the recipe on.
When we make this cake, we double it and make two. It's another cake where you have to cut it in the pan. Usually. There's a lot of orange juice in it, and when fruit juice cooks, it gets very sticky. Keep that in mind. Also keep in mind that, when you choose your ricotta, pick a GOOD one. Don't buy the ghastly supermarket stuff. Find a good Italian latticini freschi, or a good farmers market purveyor. It WILL make the difference. If you're 24, with the metabolism of a hamster, use the mascarpone option. It makes a richer cake. But mascarpone is more expensive. And if you're doing this for a bake sale, save some money.
For each, 8 inch cake, you need 2 cups of flour, 2 cups of sugar and a teaspoon of baking soda. Also half a teaspoon of salt. Put these together, and stir them
Melt one stick of unsalted butter. Then add half a cup of strong espresso. I make it by dissolving twice the recommended amount of instant espresso into boiling water. You could use coffee, too, if you have it and not espresso powder. You also need to squeeze some orange juice. Half a cup. That's two, maybe three oranges. You don't need surgical precision here. If you have too much, dont worry. If you have too little, don't worry. Just stir everything together, and add a quarter cup of cocoa. Again, stay away from supermarket stuff - you know, the "quick " stuff. Get a good, unsweetened cocoa. Watch how dark everything gets in the pan. Add all of this to the flour mixture and stir it up. Finally , beat in half a cup of either ricotta, or mascarpone that you've left at room temperature, and two eggs. If you want, add some almond extract. In my opinion, it takes away from the orange flavor.
Pour this into a well greased - REALLY well greased 8 inch pan, and bake it in a 350 degree, preheated oven, for at least 45 minutes. I say "at least," because in about 2 of 3 times, 45 minutes hasn't been enough time. If it's soft and soupy in the center, let it cook for another fifteen minutes.
This is a wonderful cake, just to have around. The orange is subtle, but it's there. The cheese adds richness, and the cocoa , mixed with all of those fats, "blossoms" and tastes like a rich chocolate bar.
I think if you try this., it may become your "house" chocolate cake. Everyone needs one of those.
"Back to school?"
I wrote about the change in the air around September a few entries ago, and the more I think about it, the more I feel it. I was thinking about it again this weekend.
Guy goes to rehearsals on Monday night, starting in September. And when that happens, our whole eating pattern changes. We eat soup every Monday night, and where we used to eat fish on Monday night, it will now be on Tuesday night. All kind of odd, as "back to school" happens. So, this weekend, I had to get my mind back into the set of making soup.
If you look at some of the entries from the winter of 2007, you know I DO enjoy, in fact, I LOVE making soup. But you do have to get back into the swing of it. So on Friday, I was trying to think of what to serve for soup. And I happened to have some fresh canellini beans in the fridge. Let me e xplain.
When you go to the farmers' market, you will often find an ingredient that you did not plan to use, and that you may have some idea how to use. If that happens, buy the stuff, and figure out how to use it, later. You will. Because in some cases, you may not see it again. Franca, one of my favorite farmers, had some yellow beans that I passed over, because I do not like wax beans. Her mother, Jan, who works at the stand told me "they're fresh canellinis." Well, I had no idea how to use them, but hey, I was not passing up this chance. So they were in the fridge. And beans make a great soup.
What do go with them ? Going back to my very first entry, you see that I love the escarole that Nevia grows. She had it again. NOW we're talking. Beans and escarole are classic partners in soup. Greens and beans are. The wonderful Portuguese soup of white beans and kale is an example, and of course, my own beloved minestrone. French cooking has garbure, and you could go on , and on , and on. So we had two components. But what else?
Well, since I had already planned on a pizza of the the Matts and I had made, meat was already on the menu. So this was going to be a vegetarian soup. In the fridge were carrots, onions, and potatoes. BANG. If you have a few vegetables, you have soup. Here's mine.
Chop up two medium yellow onions. You don't have to be too precise about this, just get them cut up. Cut two large carrots into coins, but peel them first, please. Then, peel and dice about twice as much of potatoes as you have carrots. You'll also need about a cup and a half of fresh shell beans of some type, and also, enough greens, like escarole, or chard, or spinach, to fill eight cups or so. Thats not a lot of greens. They take up a fair volume.
Now, cook your beans first. They take the longest to cook, so put them in a pot of cold water, with a pinch or two of salt, and bring them to a simmer. Cook for maybe fifteen minutes.
Put them aside. Don't drain them (this is controversial. I'll explain below).
In a big soup pot, cover the bottom with olive oil, and add your onions, with a teaspoon of salt, Saute them until they become translucent, and then add your carrots. Stir them for a minute or two, and then add the potatoes. The potatoes will stick if you don't keep everything moving around, so keep on stirring, for maybe five minutes.
Now, take your beans, and their water, and pour that all into the pot. There are people who feel that the starch of beans, when dissolved into the water, causes gastric distress. I've never experienced it, and there's nutrition in that water, so I keep it. If you're concerned, drain the beans. Then also add a quart of chicken stock, and if you didn't add the bean water, about two cups of water. Bring everything to a boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for ten minutes.
After that time, start adding your greens, in big handfuls. The heat will wilt them right away, and when that happens, your soup is done.
When I make this soup, I add a chunk of parmesan rind when I add the beans. If you have it, use it, if you don't , don't worry. And if you're a pure vegetarian, you can feel fine about using vegetable stock, or just plain water. When you correct the seasonings, you may want to add more of whatever you like to a water based soup, though.
This made about twelve cups of soup. That's plenty to share with people. There are a lot of singers, and they're hungry after a rehearsal. Someone is gonna get lucky tomorrow. Aaron, it may just be you...
Guy goes to rehearsals on Monday night, starting in September. And when that happens, our whole eating pattern changes. We eat soup every Monday night, and where we used to eat fish on Monday night, it will now be on Tuesday night. All kind of odd, as "back to school" happens. So, this weekend, I had to get my mind back into the set of making soup.
If you look at some of the entries from the winter of 2007, you know I DO enjoy, in fact, I LOVE making soup. But you do have to get back into the swing of it. So on Friday, I was trying to think of what to serve for soup. And I happened to have some fresh canellini beans in the fridge. Let me e xplain.
When you go to the farmers' market, you will often find an ingredient that you did not plan to use, and that you may have some idea how to use. If that happens, buy the stuff, and figure out how to use it, later. You will. Because in some cases, you may not see it again. Franca, one of my favorite farmers, had some yellow beans that I passed over, because I do not like wax beans. Her mother, Jan, who works at the stand told me "they're fresh canellinis." Well, I had no idea how to use them, but hey, I was not passing up this chance. So they were in the fridge. And beans make a great soup.
What do go with them ? Going back to my very first entry, you see that I love the escarole that Nevia grows. She had it again. NOW we're talking. Beans and escarole are classic partners in soup. Greens and beans are. The wonderful Portuguese soup of white beans and kale is an example, and of course, my own beloved minestrone. French cooking has garbure, and you could go on , and on , and on. So we had two components. But what else?
Well, since I had already planned on a pizza of the the Matts and I had made, meat was already on the menu. So this was going to be a vegetarian soup. In the fridge were carrots, onions, and potatoes. BANG. If you have a few vegetables, you have soup. Here's mine.
Chop up two medium yellow onions. You don't have to be too precise about this, just get them cut up. Cut two large carrots into coins, but peel them first, please. Then, peel and dice about twice as much of potatoes as you have carrots. You'll also need about a cup and a half of fresh shell beans of some type, and also, enough greens, like escarole, or chard, or spinach, to fill eight cups or so. Thats not a lot of greens. They take up a fair volume.
Now, cook your beans first. They take the longest to cook, so put them in a pot of cold water, with a pinch or two of salt, and bring them to a simmer. Cook for maybe fifteen minutes.
Put them aside. Don't drain them (this is controversial. I'll explain below).
In a big soup pot, cover the bottom with olive oil, and add your onions, with a teaspoon of salt, Saute them until they become translucent, and then add your carrots. Stir them for a minute or two, and then add the potatoes. The potatoes will stick if you don't keep everything moving around, so keep on stirring, for maybe five minutes.
Now, take your beans, and their water, and pour that all into the pot. There are people who feel that the starch of beans, when dissolved into the water, causes gastric distress. I've never experienced it, and there's nutrition in that water, so I keep it. If you're concerned, drain the beans. Then also add a quart of chicken stock, and if you didn't add the bean water, about two cups of water. Bring everything to a boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for ten minutes.
After that time, start adding your greens, in big handfuls. The heat will wilt them right away, and when that happens, your soup is done.
When I make this soup, I add a chunk of parmesan rind when I add the beans. If you have it, use it, if you don't , don't worry. And if you're a pure vegetarian, you can feel fine about using vegetable stock, or just plain water. When you correct the seasonings, you may want to add more of whatever you like to a water based soup, though.
This made about twelve cups of soup. That's plenty to share with people. There are a lot of singers, and they're hungry after a rehearsal. Someone is gonna get lucky tomorrow. Aaron, it may just be you...
Friday, September 5, 2008
A little of this, a little of that, and an old dog learns new tricks
One of the great things about cooking is that, if you're attentive, you can learn just by the simple act of EATING. You go to a restaurant, and you order something new, and all of a sudden, you haev a new dish. A few years ago, I had pan fried gnocchi for the first time. Now, I cook it myself (and so it seems, does every restaurant in NYC). Or, you order something that you think is not new, and it turns out the chef has done something different, and you have a new taste combination to play with.
And sometimes, people surprise you. Last night, I was teaching two of my friends, both named Matt, to make pizza. Now, when I teach pizza making, I let the students pick their toppings. I generally do some "guiding" with them, because I don't want the toppings to be too weird or not work. For example, gorgonzola is not going to work with meatballs. It may sound good, but it won't. Nor is maple syrup and chicken liver (you think I jest about that one? Don't think that way).
One of my big "things" about composed dishes, like pizza, is that I try not to combine too many flavors. I find that when that happens, the whole is less than the sum of its parts. So when I put all the ingredients out on the table that I had for pizza making, I thought that we were going to wind up with something fairly classic, and fairly simple. After all, the Matts were making pizza for the first time, and for the first time in about 12 years.
Never underestimate the young. They both chose combinations that, honestly, I raised an eyebrow to. But, since I had said "Ok, fine, we'll do what you want," I didn't dissuade them. And ultimately, I am glad I didn't. Both pizzas were wonderful, and I intend to use these combinations in the future. They were really, really terrific.
The first one I'll tell you about, was based on mushrooms, and leeks. I had a large bunch of baby leeks , and I had suggested at one point a leek and green olive pizza. The olives got dispatched, when the Matt saw the wild chanterelles (that's kind of redundant. Chanterelles do not cultivate). And he thought that prosciutto should be his protein.
The other Matt went with hot and sweet chicken sausage, peppers and cremini mushrooms. Interestingly, both of the boys picked mozzarella for their cheese, over other options.
Now, if I had been given leeks for a pizza, I would have gone for fontina. Absolutely. But the mozzarella worked. And I wouldn't have mixed sweet and hot sausage in the same pizza. But it worked too. I'm going to present the recipe for both toppings, and if you make pizza, go ahead. But also consider them as pasta sauces, because I think that's a great use for these.
So, thank you Matt F and Matt M. Never too old to learn something new.
Matt M's recipe:
You'll need about a cup of sliced leeks. Use the smallest ones you can find. Make sure you wash them first to get rid of any dirt or grit, and then cut off the leeks where they start turning dark green, and use the lighter part. Cut the leeks into coin shapes, about a quarter of an inch thick. Get about an equal amount of chanterelles mushrooms. If they're large, half them, or else, just leave them whole. Coat your pan with olive oil, and when it's hot, add the leeks, a good pinch of salt, and a few branches of thyme. When the leeks begin to soften, add the mushrooms, and cook that down, until the water goes off. Taste for seasoning, and remove the thyme.
If you're going to use this for a pizza sauce, then top your pizza with tomato sauce, and add the topping, and then the mozzarella and bake until you have a browned crust, and a good melted topping (for a 12-14 inch pizza, this is about fifteen minutes, at 500 degrees). When you take the pie out of the oven, grate parmesan over it, and then layer slices of prosciutto over it. Don't cook the prosciutto. It gets nasty at high heat. The warmth from the pizza will soften the prosciutto just enough to "paint" the top. People will see some kind of topping through the "pink window'" of the prosciutto, but the taste will surprise them.
Matt F's sausage, mushroom and pepper topping
For this, you'll need one spicy chicken sausage, and one sweet one. We had southwestern sausage and chicken apple sausage, both from D'artagnan. Slice the sausages into about 1/2 inch wedges. Also, clean and dice one red, and one green pepper. We used casabel frying peppers, but you could use bell peppers, too. Finally, slice about a third of a pound of cremini mushrooms thinly.
Again, slick your pan with olive oil. When it's hot, add the sausages and sautee them for about three minutes. You don't want to go too far with them, because they're going to cook some more with the vegetables. Add the peppers, and season well (peppers are always insipid. Be generous with your salt), and saute for another three minutes or so. Add a branch of rosemary here, if you like (we did). Finally, add the mushrooms, and cook for another three minutes. Taste and adjust for salt. Toss the rosemary
Just like before, roll out the pizza dough, and top it with the sausage mixture, and mozzarella. And bake as with the first one. When it comes out of the oven, decorate it with basil leaves (like with prosciutto, put this on at the end) and parmesan cheese.
I can say in all honestly these were two of the best pizzas I have ever had. And I do believe that I will use the recipes for pasta sauces too. With Matt M's recipe, I'll shred the prosciutto before adding it to the other ingredients, but that is the only change in terms of making sauce instead of pizza topping.
This old dog was impressed. Doesn't happen too often.
And sometimes, people surprise you. Last night, I was teaching two of my friends, both named Matt, to make pizza. Now, when I teach pizza making, I let the students pick their toppings. I generally do some "guiding" with them, because I don't want the toppings to be too weird or not work. For example, gorgonzola is not going to work with meatballs. It may sound good, but it won't. Nor is maple syrup and chicken liver (you think I jest about that one? Don't think that way).
One of my big "things" about composed dishes, like pizza, is that I try not to combine too many flavors. I find that when that happens, the whole is less than the sum of its parts. So when I put all the ingredients out on the table that I had for pizza making, I thought that we were going to wind up with something fairly classic, and fairly simple. After all, the Matts were making pizza for the first time, and for the first time in about 12 years.
Never underestimate the young. They both chose combinations that, honestly, I raised an eyebrow to. But, since I had said "Ok, fine, we'll do what you want," I didn't dissuade them. And ultimately, I am glad I didn't. Both pizzas were wonderful, and I intend to use these combinations in the future. They were really, really terrific.
The first one I'll tell you about, was based on mushrooms, and leeks. I had a large bunch of baby leeks , and I had suggested at one point a leek and green olive pizza. The olives got dispatched, when the Matt saw the wild chanterelles (that's kind of redundant. Chanterelles do not cultivate). And he thought that prosciutto should be his protein.
The other Matt went with hot and sweet chicken sausage, peppers and cremini mushrooms. Interestingly, both of the boys picked mozzarella for their cheese, over other options.
Now, if I had been given leeks for a pizza, I would have gone for fontina. Absolutely. But the mozzarella worked. And I wouldn't have mixed sweet and hot sausage in the same pizza. But it worked too. I'm going to present the recipe for both toppings, and if you make pizza, go ahead. But also consider them as pasta sauces, because I think that's a great use for these.
So, thank you Matt F and Matt M. Never too old to learn something new.
Matt M's recipe:
You'll need about a cup of sliced leeks. Use the smallest ones you can find. Make sure you wash them first to get rid of any dirt or grit, and then cut off the leeks where they start turning dark green, and use the lighter part. Cut the leeks into coin shapes, about a quarter of an inch thick. Get about an equal amount of chanterelles mushrooms. If they're large, half them, or else, just leave them whole. Coat your pan with olive oil, and when it's hot, add the leeks, a good pinch of salt, and a few branches of thyme. When the leeks begin to soften, add the mushrooms, and cook that down, until the water goes off. Taste for seasoning, and remove the thyme.
If you're going to use this for a pizza sauce, then top your pizza with tomato sauce, and add the topping, and then the mozzarella and bake until you have a browned crust, and a good melted topping (for a 12-14 inch pizza, this is about fifteen minutes, at 500 degrees). When you take the pie out of the oven, grate parmesan over it, and then layer slices of prosciutto over it. Don't cook the prosciutto. It gets nasty at high heat. The warmth from the pizza will soften the prosciutto just enough to "paint" the top. People will see some kind of topping through the "pink window'" of the prosciutto, but the taste will surprise them.
Matt F's sausage, mushroom and pepper topping
For this, you'll need one spicy chicken sausage, and one sweet one. We had southwestern sausage and chicken apple sausage, both from D'artagnan. Slice the sausages into about 1/2 inch wedges. Also, clean and dice one red, and one green pepper. We used casabel frying peppers, but you could use bell peppers, too. Finally, slice about a third of a pound of cremini mushrooms thinly.
Again, slick your pan with olive oil. When it's hot, add the sausages and sautee them for about three minutes. You don't want to go too far with them, because they're going to cook some more with the vegetables. Add the peppers, and season well (peppers are always insipid. Be generous with your salt), and saute for another three minutes or so. Add a branch of rosemary here, if you like (we did). Finally, add the mushrooms, and cook for another three minutes. Taste and adjust for salt. Toss the rosemary
Just like before, roll out the pizza dough, and top it with the sausage mixture, and mozzarella. And bake as with the first one. When it comes out of the oven, decorate it with basil leaves (like with prosciutto, put this on at the end) and parmesan cheese.
I can say in all honestly these were two of the best pizzas I have ever had. And I do believe that I will use the recipes for pasta sauces too. With Matt M's recipe, I'll shred the prosciutto before adding it to the other ingredients, but that is the only change in terms of making sauce instead of pizza topping.
This old dog was impressed. Doesn't happen too often.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
transition and constants
It's September of course, and while I don't feel as if September de facto means the end of summer, there is unquestionably a sense of change in the air, every September. Kids go back to school. Casual Fridays end. You see a more determined look on the faces of people, as if , even as adults, that sense of "school days" and "summer vacation" ends. For a short while, people will be agressive on the trains, as everyone tries to re-establish an "alpha" position, if they are so inclined. And if you're aware of it, you try to move with the flow. They're constants.
And then there are changes, and transitions. I think that all of us, myself included, spend at least part of the summer thinking about change: what are we going to change in our lives? Perhaps it's best to make Labor Day Resolutions, rather than New Year's resolutions. I think that the sense of purpose that we all bring into September, is much stronger than the one we bring into the New Year. But that's just my view.
In terms of transitions, Guy and I are changing our roles in a number of organizations we work with. For example, Guy, who has been the "Baking tsar" for his Chorus for about six years, is stepping back to a part time role. He's tired, and who can blame him? No one feels his "pain" more than I, because I did it right before he did. And as others step in to do the job, there is both a sense of regret, and a sense of relief. Transition frees us up to do other things.
But transition cannot be accomplished without constancy too. I am currently reading that wonderful classic of Italian literature "The Leopard." The key line of that book, as you may know, is that "if we want things to stay the same, everything has to change." Think about it. It makes a melancholic, honest sense, doesn't it?
In that spirit, I am trying to pass on recipes that I've used, and Guy has used, so that the new bakers can fall back on proven classics. This is one of them. I wish I could take ownership of the recipe, but I can't. Although I will "own" variations.
Many years ago, when the wonderful Marian Burros was the food editor for the New York Times, she published a recipe for "summer fruit torte." Anecdotal evidence says it was the most requested reprint in the history of the food section. It got to the point where she would have to reprint it every single year, come September. And the year she said "this is IT. Cut out the recipe and save it ," she got more laments, nasty letters, and phone calls, than for anything else she had ever written. So she went back to reprinting it.
I haven't seen that recipe in a long time, so maybe change has caught up. But I DID re-learn it from Richard Sax, in his seminal "Great American Desserts." I wish he had lived long enough for me to get to know him better. I loved this man. I miss him everytime I make one of his recipes, which he would be the first to disclaim: ("I'm a collector, not a creator"). No one caught the essence of home dessert making better than he did.
This recipe will take less time to make than it did to read the preceding paragraphs. Make it often as we head off into fall and winter, and then make it again.
The recipe I provide makes one, eight or nine inch cake. Double everything and make two, because you won't regret it.
The night before you're going to make the cake, put a stick of unsalted butter out on the counter to make it soft. Then, when you're getting ready to bake the cake, preheat the oven to 350, and butter your pan, or pans if you double this.
Collect your other ingredients, which are a cup of white sugar, 2 large eggs, a scanty cup of flour, a tablespoon of baking powder, a quarter teaspoon of salt, and fruit. I'll talk about the fruit more, below.
If your butter is soft, this will come together in a blink. Get a big spoon, and work the butter until it's soft, and it begins to get a white color, rather than a yellow one. You'll see this: it's very evident. Then stir in the sugar, combining it well. Then beat in the eggs, one at a time. After you've done that, take the dry ingredients and stir them in. Don't overdo this step. Just combine it. Now pour everything into your pan.
Here's the fun part. The original recipe calls for Italian prune plums, cut in half, and pressed into the batter, cut side down. That makes an excellent cake if you like plums, which I do. If you prefer, slice up a peach. Or a nectarine. Or pour in blueberries. Or raspberries. Or combine them. Or, if the weather says "it's fall," use apples or pears. Or cranberries in the winter. Use ANYTHING you want. If you don't have fresh, use frozen or jarred. Cherries are GREAT in this cake, as are apricots (and I could kick myself for not having frozen some of them this summer). Dried fruit works too. Stay away from strawberries and citrus, although do not be shy about citrus peel as a flavor enhancer. In fact, don't be shy about spices in this cake at all. Think about creative combinations. Lemon and blueberries. Cinnamon and apples or pears. Cardomom and cherries. You know you can do it.
When you've finished making your fantasy cake, get it in the oven, and bake it for forty five minutes. Test. You should have a fairly soft center, but not a wet one. If it's wet, bake it for another fifteen minutes. Bake it longer, too, if you want a firmer texture. You are looking for something somewhere in between clafouti, and a soft yellow cake.
Let this cool. DONT try to take it out of the pan. It's too soft to do that. DO cut slices and serve them right out of the pan, homestyle, the way this cake is meant to be eaten.
I don't refrigerate it, and never have a need to. If your home is a little on the cool side, it won't go bad. I just made two of these - one apple, and one blueberry, on a Thursday night, and they kept until Monday afternoon in a relatively cool kitchen, unrefrigerated. If you have people over, you won't have to worry. Theoretically, one of these cakes serves eight. I'd say four, with some good coffee.
You could find yourself making this cake a few times a week. I won't say that would be a mistake. Keeping it and eating it yourself would be. Bring it to the office. Bring it to a party. Share it.
And then there are changes, and transitions. I think that all of us, myself included, spend at least part of the summer thinking about change: what are we going to change in our lives? Perhaps it's best to make Labor Day Resolutions, rather than New Year's resolutions. I think that the sense of purpose that we all bring into September, is much stronger than the one we bring into the New Year. But that's just my view.
In terms of transitions, Guy and I are changing our roles in a number of organizations we work with. For example, Guy, who has been the "Baking tsar" for his Chorus for about six years, is stepping back to a part time role. He's tired, and who can blame him? No one feels his "pain" more than I, because I did it right before he did. And as others step in to do the job, there is both a sense of regret, and a sense of relief. Transition frees us up to do other things.
But transition cannot be accomplished without constancy too. I am currently reading that wonderful classic of Italian literature "The Leopard." The key line of that book, as you may know, is that "if we want things to stay the same, everything has to change." Think about it. It makes a melancholic, honest sense, doesn't it?
In that spirit, I am trying to pass on recipes that I've used, and Guy has used, so that the new bakers can fall back on proven classics. This is one of them. I wish I could take ownership of the recipe, but I can't. Although I will "own" variations.
Many years ago, when the wonderful Marian Burros was the food editor for the New York Times, she published a recipe for "summer fruit torte." Anecdotal evidence says it was the most requested reprint in the history of the food section. It got to the point where she would have to reprint it every single year, come September. And the year she said "this is IT. Cut out the recipe and save it ," she got more laments, nasty letters, and phone calls, than for anything else she had ever written. So she went back to reprinting it.
I haven't seen that recipe in a long time, so maybe change has caught up. But I DID re-learn it from Richard Sax, in his seminal "Great American Desserts." I wish he had lived long enough for me to get to know him better. I loved this man. I miss him everytime I make one of his recipes, which he would be the first to disclaim: ("I'm a collector, not a creator"). No one caught the essence of home dessert making better than he did.
This recipe will take less time to make than it did to read the preceding paragraphs. Make it often as we head off into fall and winter, and then make it again.
The recipe I provide makes one, eight or nine inch cake. Double everything and make two, because you won't regret it.
The night before you're going to make the cake, put a stick of unsalted butter out on the counter to make it soft. Then, when you're getting ready to bake the cake, preheat the oven to 350, and butter your pan, or pans if you double this.
Collect your other ingredients, which are a cup of white sugar, 2 large eggs, a scanty cup of flour, a tablespoon of baking powder, a quarter teaspoon of salt, and fruit. I'll talk about the fruit more, below.
If your butter is soft, this will come together in a blink. Get a big spoon, and work the butter until it's soft, and it begins to get a white color, rather than a yellow one. You'll see this: it's very evident. Then stir in the sugar, combining it well. Then beat in the eggs, one at a time. After you've done that, take the dry ingredients and stir them in. Don't overdo this step. Just combine it. Now pour everything into your pan.
Here's the fun part. The original recipe calls for Italian prune plums, cut in half, and pressed into the batter, cut side down. That makes an excellent cake if you like plums, which I do. If you prefer, slice up a peach. Or a nectarine. Or pour in blueberries. Or raspberries. Or combine them. Or, if the weather says "it's fall," use apples or pears. Or cranberries in the winter. Use ANYTHING you want. If you don't have fresh, use frozen or jarred. Cherries are GREAT in this cake, as are apricots (and I could kick myself for not having frozen some of them this summer). Dried fruit works too. Stay away from strawberries and citrus, although do not be shy about citrus peel as a flavor enhancer. In fact, don't be shy about spices in this cake at all. Think about creative combinations. Lemon and blueberries. Cinnamon and apples or pears. Cardomom and cherries. You know you can do it.
When you've finished making your fantasy cake, get it in the oven, and bake it for forty five minutes. Test. You should have a fairly soft center, but not a wet one. If it's wet, bake it for another fifteen minutes. Bake it longer, too, if you want a firmer texture. You are looking for something somewhere in between clafouti, and a soft yellow cake.
Let this cool. DONT try to take it out of the pan. It's too soft to do that. DO cut slices and serve them right out of the pan, homestyle, the way this cake is meant to be eaten.
I don't refrigerate it, and never have a need to. If your home is a little on the cool side, it won't go bad. I just made two of these - one apple, and one blueberry, on a Thursday night, and they kept until Monday afternoon in a relatively cool kitchen, unrefrigerated. If you have people over, you won't have to worry. Theoretically, one of these cakes serves eight. I'd say four, with some good coffee.
You could find yourself making this cake a few times a week. I won't say that would be a mistake. Keeping it and eating it yourself would be. Bring it to the office. Bring it to a party. Share it.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Roasting tomatoes
When you get to "know" your produce, you begin to realize that when you talk about things like "apples" or "pears," or even strawberries, you sometimes have to talk about what KIND of apple or pear or whatever you mean. This is self evident for some types of produce. Does anyone confuse a golden delicious with a mcintosh (does anyone EAT a golden delicious apple? OOPS. Letting my prejudices through. Sorry). Does anyone confuse a bartlett pear with a bosc pear (now I'm on firmer ground). Strawberries can be more difficult to distinguish, as can things like raspberries, or blackberries, green beans, and so forth.
We're all pretty clear at this point on differences within tomatoes. Beefsteaks, heirlooms, cherries, pears, people get them fairly easily. When you start working within SUBclasses of classes, things do get interesting. "Yes, it's a cherry tomato but it's an HEIRLOOM cherry tomato." Oh. Amongst plum tomatoes, it also gets interesting. Is it a san marzano? Is it a capistrano? And so on , and so forth.
Plum tomatoes come into season just about last of all tomatoes (except maybe for a variety called "early girl." I have never gotten an answer as to why they're called "early girls" if they come into season so late. Maybe someone knows?). You can see pictures from Italy of villages, or families, buying scads of plum tomatoes and then cooking them down forever. We used to call them "paste" tomatoes, because they have so little water in them that they cook to a paste very easily. And that's all fine and good. Everyone should make tomato paste, or ketchup or bottled sauce with plum tomatoes ONCE. And you will thank those who do it immensely afterward. It's hard, hot work. The results are worth it, but this is one category of cooking that Annalena has decided to let pass her by these days.
BUT... I use a classic way of cooking plum tomatoes that I think is worth getting to know. It takes a while, but it's really easy to do . I'm talking about oven roasted tomatoes. These are sort of a cross between sundried and fresh tomatoes. You do have to refrigerate them, and you can't really use them the same way you would use sundried tomatoes. They come out as sort of like a thicker version of the tomato confit recipe I gave earlier. You can vary the recipe a million different ways, and here's mine.
You need a big glass or ceramic baking dish - say 9x13 inches. Then, you need enough plum tomatoes so that, when you cut them in halves, they cover the pan. You should squeeze them in tight, because they will shrink. (I hate when recipes give a number like "12." If you have 12 big tomatoes, they won't fit. If you have 12 small ones, there will be too much room.
People vary on whether they put the cut side up or down when they do these. I actually use cut side up, because I'm going to sprinkle some salt on them, and if you try to do that cut side down, the salt won't get into the tomato. You'll just get salty oil. So, put your tomatoes, cut side up in the pan. Then pour about a third of a cup of olive oil into the pan. If you dribble some on the top of the tomatoes, that's fine, but that's not your goal here. Then, sprinkle about a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt, or table salt if that's all you have, over the tomatoes. Finally, you'll want some herbs. Fresh thyme is wonderful, so is basil. Oregano is also good. What you will want to do is to put the herbs in the oil. It makes some sense to put them on top of the tomatoes, but the heat of the oven will make them crispy, and then bitter. You'll get the flavor of the herbs when the tomatoes sit in the oil. You can also add a few, or more than a few, cloves of peeled garlic to the pan.
Now, put the whole thing into the oven, at 300 degrees (you don't have to preheat but you could), and walk away for 2.5 hours, at a minimum. After 2.5 hours, take a look at your tomatoes. If they are beginning to shrivel up and look interesting, stop the cooking now, by turning off the oven, and letting them cool. If you would like to go a little further, which will strengthen the flavor and sweeten it, let them cook another half hour or so, or even longer. The longer you cook them, the more of a caramel and sugar flavor you will get (keep in mind that tomatoes are fruit and they have a high sugar content). Again, let them cool in the oven, and then, store them in a container, with the infused oil poured over them.
These tomatoes, unlike most men, are incredibly versatile. I know someone who swears by serving them with baked eggs. I don't care for baked eggs, so I skip that, but I do like them on pizza. And I also like mixing them with just a kiss of balsamic vinegar and putting them alongside of something like lamb, or a steak, or some stronger flavored meat. There have been times when I've pureed them and used them as a tomato sauce too.
I can see my friend David suggesting cooking these with some honey and making dessert as well. Maybe. But you know how I like them best? In a grilled cheese sandwich. With high quality cheddar. A close second: on top of a bowl of soup, like a bean soup or something like that.
You know there are evenings when you just sit there and watch tv. So spend ten minutes and put this together, and then go watch that tv. You'll have something wonderful to eat when the evening is over, and you don't even have to worry about getting it packed up before you go to bed. And if you brown bag your lunch, you have something nice and elegant to add to your sandwich.
Into the kitchen everyone.
We're all pretty clear at this point on differences within tomatoes. Beefsteaks, heirlooms, cherries, pears, people get them fairly easily. When you start working within SUBclasses of classes, things do get interesting. "Yes, it's a cherry tomato but it's an HEIRLOOM cherry tomato." Oh. Amongst plum tomatoes, it also gets interesting. Is it a san marzano? Is it a capistrano? And so on , and so forth.
Plum tomatoes come into season just about last of all tomatoes (except maybe for a variety called "early girl." I have never gotten an answer as to why they're called "early girls" if they come into season so late. Maybe someone knows?). You can see pictures from Italy of villages, or families, buying scads of plum tomatoes and then cooking them down forever. We used to call them "paste" tomatoes, because they have so little water in them that they cook to a paste very easily. And that's all fine and good. Everyone should make tomato paste, or ketchup or bottled sauce with plum tomatoes ONCE. And you will thank those who do it immensely afterward. It's hard, hot work. The results are worth it, but this is one category of cooking that Annalena has decided to let pass her by these days.
BUT... I use a classic way of cooking plum tomatoes that I think is worth getting to know. It takes a while, but it's really easy to do . I'm talking about oven roasted tomatoes. These are sort of a cross between sundried and fresh tomatoes. You do have to refrigerate them, and you can't really use them the same way you would use sundried tomatoes. They come out as sort of like a thicker version of the tomato confit recipe I gave earlier. You can vary the recipe a million different ways, and here's mine.
You need a big glass or ceramic baking dish - say 9x13 inches. Then, you need enough plum tomatoes so that, when you cut them in halves, they cover the pan. You should squeeze them in tight, because they will shrink. (I hate when recipes give a number like "12." If you have 12 big tomatoes, they won't fit. If you have 12 small ones, there will be too much room.
People vary on whether they put the cut side up or down when they do these. I actually use cut side up, because I'm going to sprinkle some salt on them, and if you try to do that cut side down, the salt won't get into the tomato. You'll just get salty oil. So, put your tomatoes, cut side up in the pan. Then pour about a third of a cup of olive oil into the pan. If you dribble some on the top of the tomatoes, that's fine, but that's not your goal here. Then, sprinkle about a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt, or table salt if that's all you have, over the tomatoes. Finally, you'll want some herbs. Fresh thyme is wonderful, so is basil. Oregano is also good. What you will want to do is to put the herbs in the oil. It makes some sense to put them on top of the tomatoes, but the heat of the oven will make them crispy, and then bitter. You'll get the flavor of the herbs when the tomatoes sit in the oil. You can also add a few, or more than a few, cloves of peeled garlic to the pan.
Now, put the whole thing into the oven, at 300 degrees (you don't have to preheat but you could), and walk away for 2.5 hours, at a minimum. After 2.5 hours, take a look at your tomatoes. If they are beginning to shrivel up and look interesting, stop the cooking now, by turning off the oven, and letting them cool. If you would like to go a little further, which will strengthen the flavor and sweeten it, let them cook another half hour or so, or even longer. The longer you cook them, the more of a caramel and sugar flavor you will get (keep in mind that tomatoes are fruit and they have a high sugar content). Again, let them cool in the oven, and then, store them in a container, with the infused oil poured over them.
These tomatoes, unlike most men, are incredibly versatile. I know someone who swears by serving them with baked eggs. I don't care for baked eggs, so I skip that, but I do like them on pizza. And I also like mixing them with just a kiss of balsamic vinegar and putting them alongside of something like lamb, or a steak, or some stronger flavored meat. There have been times when I've pureed them and used them as a tomato sauce too.
I can see my friend David suggesting cooking these with some honey and making dessert as well. Maybe. But you know how I like them best? In a grilled cheese sandwich. With high quality cheddar. A close second: on top of a bowl of soup, like a bean soup or something like that.
You know there are evenings when you just sit there and watch tv. So spend ten minutes and put this together, and then go watch that tv. You'll have something wonderful to eat when the evening is over, and you don't even have to worry about getting it packed up before you go to bed. And if you brown bag your lunch, you have something nice and elegant to add to your sandwich.
Into the kitchen everyone.
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