I believe in the past I have written in this blog that I don't understand some of the expressions we use about food. Why, for example, are we "as American as apple pie" or "as normal as blueberry pie?" Surveys say that the United States' favorite pie is cherry. I can go for that, although if you did a survey of MY friends, you would get a lot of sentiment for peach, or other fruits. I don't think you'll get much of a response to apple pie. There may be multitudes of reasons for that, but the fact remains that if you ask a cook "do you ever make pie?" you will almost inevitably find out they make apple pie, and only apple pie.
All those apple pies, and all those people sighing and saying "oh well. I wish it were...."
The first time I made a grape pie, it was a revelation. It seemed to me to be something that woudl be dramatic - it is, tasty - it is indeed, and fun to make. Three for three. And then I was kind of stunned (I was much younger), to learn that no one in my circle had ever had one, let alone heard of one.
Years later, I found out that this may very well be one of those "regional" desserts that are known to the rest of the country by way of people moving from their home and taking their recipes with them. The finger lakes region of New York, where the best concord grapes grow, is famous for these pies. The city of Naples has a concord grape pie contest every year. And now that they're here, while peaches, nectarines, berries, and other summer favorites have either said "see you next year," or are clearly on their way for hiatus, it's time.
Concord grape pie is sometimes called "slipskin" pie. That's because the thick skin of the grapes allows you to hold them, squeeze them, and "slip" the skin off of them. You then have what many could rightly call a gross little ball of wet sweet "goo" in your hand, and what looks like a small, deflated, purple balloon.
Yes, the image is not much to work with, but bear with me here, huh? You're gonna be happy.
You need to start with two pounds of grapes on the stem (NEVER buy grapes that are not on the stem. By examining the stems, you can tell how fresh they are. A dry, hard stem is a sign those grapes are beyond their prime. The stems, like partners in an affair, should be subtle, sturdy, and invite your fingers to pluck their fruit).
I can't believe I wrote that. But it's staying. OK, so you remove the grapes from the stems (wash them first, if you're cooking this for Kevin. He'll know if you didn't), then put on an apron, and have two bowls in front of you. Squeeze the grapes so that the innards go into one bowl, and put the skins in the other. You're gonna use them both.
Now, take those white globs, put them in a sturdy pot, and cook them at gentle heat for about five minutes after they come to a boil. What you're doing is breaking down tissue, so you can get the seeds out.
Most recipes tell you to let these grapes cool completely before you go forward, but I don't see a need. Get your food mill, if you can find the very fine sieve filter (I never can), or a collander. Either way, press gently to get all the juice and pulp out, leaving behind the seeds. If you press too hard, I'm told that you will get "bitter overtones" from the seeds. I guess I am surrounded by too many bitter overtones. I never notice it. So you have this mess of grape pulp. Stir the skins back into them (incidentally, if you try to eat one of them now, you will find it very tough and have your doubts. Patience, dear ones).
Now, stir 3/4 cups of sugar into those grapes and taste. You may want to add another quarter cup of sugar, this is up to you. Also, add a whopping 3 tablespoons of cornstarch, and the juice of a slice of lemon. The lemon really doesn't do much other than fix the color (you'll notice a change as you go from a very dark purple, to one with blue overtones). You need all that cornstarch because this is going to be your thickener for what is a very wet pie.
So, that's your filling. And now we're going to make our dreaded pie crust. This is a double crust pie. You'll need two sticks of unsalted butter, 2.25 cups of all purpose flour, a heaping quarter teaspoon of salt, a quarter teaspoon of baking powder, and a tablespoon of cider vinegar. You'll also need ice water by your side.
Mix up all those dry ingredients and put them in a bag, in your freezer. Then take a stick of butter, cut it into small cubes, and freeze it, too. Cube the other stick and put it in the fridge.
Leave everything overnight if you can, or at least a couple of hours. When you're ready to start baking, put the dry goods into a food processor and pulse a few times. Then add the refrigerated butter, and process (NOT pulsing), for 20 seconds. NOW add the frozen butter, and pulse to the size of peas. Add the vinegar, and 5 tablespoons of ice water to the crust, and pulse about 5-6 times. Press a bit between your fingers. Does it hold together? If it does, move on. If it doesn't, add up to two more tablespoons of ice water. Dump the stuff out and gather it into a ball, and then divide it into two halves, putting each in a separate bag. Refrigerate this for at least an hour. Again, overnight is better.
When you are ready to bake it, take out the piecrust and let them come to cold room temperature. This is going to take a few hours. Heavily flour your surface, and roll out one piece, turning every three rolls or so, to try to keep a good circle (I never do). You want to roll this out until it's big enough to make a 12 inch circle (don't rely on your friends. Men always think 10 inches is 12, and women always think 14 is 12. Use a ruler).
Did I just write that? Oh, I guess I did. Okay, position this in an 8 or 9 inch pie pan and gently push it in. There will be overlap, and that's okay. Put your filling into this and put the pie aside, while you start preheating the oven to 425.
Now, do for the other half of the dough what you did for the first one. Cover the pie with this dough. If you moisten the edges of the first one, it will be easier to bring them together. You don't have to, though.
You are going to have a fair amount of extra crust on the edge, and you should trim some of that away, but leave enough to make a nice , thick rim when you push them together. I like to use fork tines for decoration (ON THE PIE!!!), but you don't have to. You DO have to cut some vents in the top, though. Some people get really crafty and cut a bunch of grapes pattern on the top. More power to them. I make a few slits in the pattern of a four point star. Then put the pie on a cookie sheet, and put it into the oven. You'll want to bake this for 45-50 minutes. You'll see thick, dark, very dangerous looking juices bubbling up, and this is exactly what you want. After the 45/50 minutes, carefully take everything out of the oven, and let it sit until it's cool.
DO NOT refrigerate this pie. It will be very unhappy if you do. If you've made it right, when you cut this pie, the filling will look like it's just about to ooze out of the shell, but it never will.
The peanut butter ice cream that I wrote about before is perfect for this, but frankly, this is a case where I want vanilla ice cream, and ONLY vanilla ice cream.
This pie is going to stay fine , stored at room tempearture, for two days, but it won't last that long.
I have been very fortunate to be able to take recipes for this pie from three invaluable sources. One is Rose Levy Bernbaum, whom I've written about before. Another is the late and lamented Richard Sax, whom I've also mentioned before. But perhaps the single most important person in the development of this recipe is "Buzzard Creek Irene." Buzzard Creek is the name of an upstate ny vineyard, and they sell their oversupply of grapes at the farmers' market. That's where I get mine. Irene is the sweetest woman you could ever meet. She told me about the Naples pie festival, and gave me pointers on how she makes her concord grape pie. Her approach allowed me to simplify the recipe in many ways, although I will admit, this is not one that screams "EEEEAZY." But it's worth it.
Now's the time. Add it to your repertoire, or start making something new.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Playing with a recipe: lamb in pomegranate sauce
We are in that period of the year when cooks switch from grills, to ovens. It's that time when a slow braise, a stew, something long cooked and with deep flavor appeals much more than a seared steak or grilled piece of fish.
Lamb , or at least some cuts of lamb, is a superb candidate for slow cooking. I'm told that lamb is the least favorite meat of Americans. I think I understand why, and it comes back to the quality of food that we are confronted with in markets. Of all of the readily available meats, lamb has the strongest taste. And if lamb is not raised properly, that strong taste is REALLY strong. GOOD lamb has a delicacy of flavor that will make you come back for more. I guarantee it. So go to a good quality vendor, get some good meat, and get to work.
This recipe is also a good example of how you can simplify a recipe and still get good results. Originally, the recipe called for sauteeing lamb bones and then putting them into the dish, probably to thicken it with the collagen and other goodies that come out of lamb. It also called for a full lamb shoulder. That's a 7.5 pound piece of meat. You can find it, but you can also use lamb shanks, and make some modifications. That's how I do it. Lamb shanks are one of those forgotten cuts of meat, that everyone loves when they see it in restaurants. No one cooks it at home, probably because it takes too long to do. Well, as Annalena frequently says, GET OVER IT.
You're going to need a good 1/3 of a cup of olive oil, and eight lamb shanks. Get smaller ones. Have a bag of flour ready. If you haven't presalted the shanks, put a good tablespoon of salt in with the flour. Then you'll also need a couple of yellow onions, that you'll chop up ahead of time. Also - and I'm not kidding, the cloves from two HEADS of garlic, peeled. Stop getting nervous. You really won't notice it, because when garlic is cooked, long and slow, it gets sweet. Also have ready a cup of red wine. DRY stuff. Not the 100 dollar bottle you got as a birthday present, and not a 6 buck bottle of swill, but something good. You also need two cups of chicken stock, and a cup of pomegranate juice. Don't bother with that expensive stuff that says "keep refrigerated." You can use the organic stuff in a glass bottle.
Incidentally, how DO they juice pomegranates. I tried once, and wound up looking like I had just taken a round from a gatlin gun.
Also have ready a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste, a couple of b rown sugar, and one of oregano. You also want a taspoon of cinnamon, and a teaspoon of allspice if you have it. If you don't, use ginger.
There is an option here at the end, using butter and flour to thicken the sauce. I'm not going to use it.
Okay, preheat your oven to 325 (seems I'm using that temperature a lot these days, doesn't it). Pour the olive oil into a broad pan. While it heats up, pat your shanks dry, and if you haven't done the usual "leave in the fridge with salt" technique I've been teaching you over and over again, salt them. Put them in the bag of flour and shake to coat them. When the oil is hot, brown the shanks all over. You may have to be a little clever here, because the shape of shanks is such that it's not always easy to get them down in the hot oil. Use your tongs, and do the best you can. It's going to take you about fifteen minutes to get them all done. Then move them over to a plate while you get the vegetables ready. Lower the heat, and add the onions and the garlic. The garlic cloves go in whole, but peeled. Cook them for about three minutes, and then add the lamb on top of the onions. Put in everything else and give it a good stir. Bring the liquid to a boil, and then cover the pot and move it to the oven.
Check the meat after 45 minutes and see how tender it is. Depending on how old the lamb was when it was butchered, this dish can take up to two hours. What you're looking for is a level of tenderness with the meat that makes you think "this is close to falling off of the bone." You don't want it so tender that it does go off the bone, but close. VERY close.
Ideally, you will have done this the day before you want to serve it, because you want the juices to cool so that the fat comes to the top, and you can remove it. If you don't have that kind of time, try to let it cool anyway, because you will be able to skim some of it off.
What I do next is to put the lamb shanks to the side, and then strain the liquid, so that any solids are removed. Then I bring the liquid to a boil, and cook it down, until I have about two cups. At the end, if it's not "zippy" enough, I will add an extra quarter cup of pomegranate juice. What you can ALSO do is boil the juices down, and in a separate pot, mix 1.5 tablespoons of butter and 1.5 tablespoons of flour together, until the flour just browns. Then pour the juices into that pot and stir until the stuff comes to the boil. This will give you a thicker, more "luscious" sauce, if you want it. You don't HAVE to do it, but it does coat the meat much better that way, and especially if you add more pomegranate juice, you will want that.
This goes great with mashed potatoes, or couscous, or that wonderful Sardinian pasta called fregola. Leftovers are terrific too. By the time you reheat it, the meat WILL fall off of the bone, and then you can use it as a sauce for pasta or something else.
Yes, it's time consuming, but let's face it: it's getting cold out. You don't really want to go out, do you? Call some people over, make a salad, get some ice cream, and you've got a party going on.
Get used to it gang. You're gonna see a LOT of braises in the future.
Lamb , or at least some cuts of lamb, is a superb candidate for slow cooking. I'm told that lamb is the least favorite meat of Americans. I think I understand why, and it comes back to the quality of food that we are confronted with in markets. Of all of the readily available meats, lamb has the strongest taste. And if lamb is not raised properly, that strong taste is REALLY strong. GOOD lamb has a delicacy of flavor that will make you come back for more. I guarantee it. So go to a good quality vendor, get some good meat, and get to work.
This recipe is also a good example of how you can simplify a recipe and still get good results. Originally, the recipe called for sauteeing lamb bones and then putting them into the dish, probably to thicken it with the collagen and other goodies that come out of lamb. It also called for a full lamb shoulder. That's a 7.5 pound piece of meat. You can find it, but you can also use lamb shanks, and make some modifications. That's how I do it. Lamb shanks are one of those forgotten cuts of meat, that everyone loves when they see it in restaurants. No one cooks it at home, probably because it takes too long to do. Well, as Annalena frequently says, GET OVER IT.
You're going to need a good 1/3 of a cup of olive oil, and eight lamb shanks. Get smaller ones. Have a bag of flour ready. If you haven't presalted the shanks, put a good tablespoon of salt in with the flour. Then you'll also need a couple of yellow onions, that you'll chop up ahead of time. Also - and I'm not kidding, the cloves from two HEADS of garlic, peeled. Stop getting nervous. You really won't notice it, because when garlic is cooked, long and slow, it gets sweet. Also have ready a cup of red wine. DRY stuff. Not the 100 dollar bottle you got as a birthday present, and not a 6 buck bottle of swill, but something good. You also need two cups of chicken stock, and a cup of pomegranate juice. Don't bother with that expensive stuff that says "keep refrigerated." You can use the organic stuff in a glass bottle.
Incidentally, how DO they juice pomegranates. I tried once, and wound up looking like I had just taken a round from a gatlin gun.
Also have ready a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste, a couple of b rown sugar, and one of oregano. You also want a taspoon of cinnamon, and a teaspoon of allspice if you have it. If you don't, use ginger.
There is an option here at the end, using butter and flour to thicken the sauce. I'm not going to use it.
Okay, preheat your oven to 325 (seems I'm using that temperature a lot these days, doesn't it). Pour the olive oil into a broad pan. While it heats up, pat your shanks dry, and if you haven't done the usual "leave in the fridge with salt" technique I've been teaching you over and over again, salt them. Put them in the bag of flour and shake to coat them. When the oil is hot, brown the shanks all over. You may have to be a little clever here, because the shape of shanks is such that it's not always easy to get them down in the hot oil. Use your tongs, and do the best you can. It's going to take you about fifteen minutes to get them all done. Then move them over to a plate while you get the vegetables ready. Lower the heat, and add the onions and the garlic. The garlic cloves go in whole, but peeled. Cook them for about three minutes, and then add the lamb on top of the onions. Put in everything else and give it a good stir. Bring the liquid to a boil, and then cover the pot and move it to the oven.
Check the meat after 45 minutes and see how tender it is. Depending on how old the lamb was when it was butchered, this dish can take up to two hours. What you're looking for is a level of tenderness with the meat that makes you think "this is close to falling off of the bone." You don't want it so tender that it does go off the bone, but close. VERY close.
Ideally, you will have done this the day before you want to serve it, because you want the juices to cool so that the fat comes to the top, and you can remove it. If you don't have that kind of time, try to let it cool anyway, because you will be able to skim some of it off.
What I do next is to put the lamb shanks to the side, and then strain the liquid, so that any solids are removed. Then I bring the liquid to a boil, and cook it down, until I have about two cups. At the end, if it's not "zippy" enough, I will add an extra quarter cup of pomegranate juice. What you can ALSO do is boil the juices down, and in a separate pot, mix 1.5 tablespoons of butter and 1.5 tablespoons of flour together, until the flour just browns. Then pour the juices into that pot and stir until the stuff comes to the boil. This will give you a thicker, more "luscious" sauce, if you want it. You don't HAVE to do it, but it does coat the meat much better that way, and especially if you add more pomegranate juice, you will want that.
This goes great with mashed potatoes, or couscous, or that wonderful Sardinian pasta called fregola. Leftovers are terrific too. By the time you reheat it, the meat WILL fall off of the bone, and then you can use it as a sauce for pasta or something else.
Yes, it's time consuming, but let's face it: it's getting cold out. You don't really want to go out, do you? Call some people over, make a salad, get some ice cream, and you've got a party going on.
Get used to it gang. You're gonna see a LOT of braises in the future.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Pound cake: do you miss it?
When I was a very young kid, I remember a HUGE variety of small cakes that you used to be able to get for snacking. Not just twinkies and yodels, and things like that, but little cinnamon crumb cakes, and "snow balls " (my favorites): big dark chocolate cupcakes with creme filling and a pink marshmallow cover, with coconut on top, yankee doodles, and a whole lot of other kinds. But to me, the pinnacle of sophistication were the single slices of pound cake. They always looked so, well, "special" and grown up. They were ecru colored, with very pale crust, cut in long, rectangular slices.
And there was also a frozen pound cake, made by Mrs. Paul. I remember the ad campaign. A wife, in her shirtwaist, smiling at her husband and saying "LOOK Paul! A POUND of poundcake," because the Mrs. Paul variety came in a one pound size.
Recently I read the label on the frozen pound cake (the slices have long disappeared).
Oh, good heavens. Is there anything in there that doesn't properly belong in a chemistry lab?
When I was learning how to cook, pound cake was one of the first things I learned how to make. I was taught that it was called "pound cake" because, traditionally, the cake contained a pound of each ingredient: butter, flour, eggs, and sugar. That made two loaves of pound cake, but of course, you couldn't call them "HALF pound cakes " (especially since they were really TWO pound cakes if you added everything up and divided. I know, I know, I was an obnoxious child). What I DO remember is that in the days when everyone was turning to margarine, no less than the Joy of Cooking advised "NO SUBSTITUTES FOR THE BUTTER.'
That tells you where we were in terms of cooking in the 60s and 70s. If you could substitute margarine for the "less healthy" butter, you did it.
How many bad dishes were made in the name of good health? And we were wrong. But pound cake retained its pristine dignity and its high cholesterol count.
I CAN lay it on thick, can't I? But pound cake is something you should know how to make. If you have a mixer, it's very easy to do, it lasts forever, and honestly, it is so darn good, and it lets you do just about anything you want to it. I made one for our road trip that I anointed with lemon and peach syrup, and it was really good. The other one I make has rose geranium leaves in it. That one is a bit "fey" for most of us, even for me, but I make it anyway. Start with a plain one and look at some of the options below, and try them. I think you'll agree that this is a worthy addition to your repertoire.
At its simplest, you need 2.5 sticks of softened, unsalted butter, 1 1/3 cups of sugar, a big tablespoon of vanilla (my style), 2 2/3 cups of cake flour 6 eggs, a half teaspoon of salt, and a half teaspoon of cream of tartar.
This is "minimalist" pound cake. Classic ones call for mace, which almost no one has at home, other flavorings, like brandy or cognac, rose water, and so forth. Try it "straight up." When you use other flavorings IN the cake, you might cut back on the vanilla.
You will also notice cake flour. Yup, cake flour. For this recipe, you need it . This is a thick, heavy cake, leavened only by the eggs, and a teensy weensy bit of cream of tartar. Regular flour will give you pound BREAD. Trust me on this.
Preheat your oven to a low 325 degree oven. Then butter and flour a 9 inch spring form pan. Normally, I don't bother with flouring pans, but for this, you should. Now you're ready to start getting the cake together.
Beat the butter in a strong mixer for longer than you think you need. A good 7 minutes is not too much time. Look for it to aerate and get nice and white. When that happens, lower the power on the mixer, and add the sugar. You will want to get this light and fluffy again, and it will happen, but be patient. Then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla.
What you do next with the dry ingredients is up to you. I like to fold them in by hand, with a big spoon. That takes time and eventually, some muscle. The mixer will do a good job too. Do it in four portions. Put the salt and cream of tartar in with the first one, and then add the others. Mix it until you dont have lose flour around.
You will have a very heavy, stiff batter. Spoon it in to your prepared pan, and do your best to smooth out the top. Then put the whole thing in the oven and bake for at least an hour. You will want to check the center, with a knife, to see if it's dry. If it is not, bake it for fifteen minutes more.
If you want, when it comes out of the oven, start spreading some kind of sweet syrup over the top of it. You can use something as "simple" as a simple sugar syrup, or maple syrup, or a lemon syrup or anything like that. While the cake is hot, it will suck up lots of the syrup so have plenty ready.
If you prefer a more internal flavor, when you're mixing up the batter, add some lemon peel, or some lime peel, or the aforementioned mace and/or cinnamon, or nutmeg, or almond flavoring or rose water...
My "fey" rose geranium cake takes a bunch of rose geranium leaves and puts them on the bottom of the pan, and then bakes it away. The leaves add a floral and grassy flavor to the cake, and impart an interesting pattern to the bottom of the cake. If you are so inclined, and I am sometimes, by all means do it.
But again, I stress the suggestion of trying a nice, simple, serious vanilla cake. Slice some fruit alongside of it, or put some chocolate syrup on it, and VOILA. You're a serious adult again, even if you really would like a snowball or a twinkie
And there was also a frozen pound cake, made by Mrs. Paul. I remember the ad campaign. A wife, in her shirtwaist, smiling at her husband and saying "LOOK Paul! A POUND of poundcake," because the Mrs. Paul variety came in a one pound size.
Recently I read the label on the frozen pound cake (the slices have long disappeared).
Oh, good heavens. Is there anything in there that doesn't properly belong in a chemistry lab?
When I was learning how to cook, pound cake was one of the first things I learned how to make. I was taught that it was called "pound cake" because, traditionally, the cake contained a pound of each ingredient: butter, flour, eggs, and sugar. That made two loaves of pound cake, but of course, you couldn't call them "HALF pound cakes " (especially since they were really TWO pound cakes if you added everything up and divided. I know, I know, I was an obnoxious child). What I DO remember is that in the days when everyone was turning to margarine, no less than the Joy of Cooking advised "NO SUBSTITUTES FOR THE BUTTER.'
That tells you where we were in terms of cooking in the 60s and 70s. If you could substitute margarine for the "less healthy" butter, you did it.
How many bad dishes were made in the name of good health? And we were wrong. But pound cake retained its pristine dignity and its high cholesterol count.
I CAN lay it on thick, can't I? But pound cake is something you should know how to make. If you have a mixer, it's very easy to do, it lasts forever, and honestly, it is so darn good, and it lets you do just about anything you want to it. I made one for our road trip that I anointed with lemon and peach syrup, and it was really good. The other one I make has rose geranium leaves in it. That one is a bit "fey" for most of us, even for me, but I make it anyway. Start with a plain one and look at some of the options below, and try them. I think you'll agree that this is a worthy addition to your repertoire.
At its simplest, you need 2.5 sticks of softened, unsalted butter, 1 1/3 cups of sugar, a big tablespoon of vanilla (my style), 2 2/3 cups of cake flour 6 eggs, a half teaspoon of salt, and a half teaspoon of cream of tartar.
This is "minimalist" pound cake. Classic ones call for mace, which almost no one has at home, other flavorings, like brandy or cognac, rose water, and so forth. Try it "straight up." When you use other flavorings IN the cake, you might cut back on the vanilla.
You will also notice cake flour. Yup, cake flour. For this recipe, you need it . This is a thick, heavy cake, leavened only by the eggs, and a teensy weensy bit of cream of tartar. Regular flour will give you pound BREAD. Trust me on this.
Preheat your oven to a low 325 degree oven. Then butter and flour a 9 inch spring form pan. Normally, I don't bother with flouring pans, but for this, you should. Now you're ready to start getting the cake together.
Beat the butter in a strong mixer for longer than you think you need. A good 7 minutes is not too much time. Look for it to aerate and get nice and white. When that happens, lower the power on the mixer, and add the sugar. You will want to get this light and fluffy again, and it will happen, but be patient. Then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla.
What you do next with the dry ingredients is up to you. I like to fold them in by hand, with a big spoon. That takes time and eventually, some muscle. The mixer will do a good job too. Do it in four portions. Put the salt and cream of tartar in with the first one, and then add the others. Mix it until you dont have lose flour around.
You will have a very heavy, stiff batter. Spoon it in to your prepared pan, and do your best to smooth out the top. Then put the whole thing in the oven and bake for at least an hour. You will want to check the center, with a knife, to see if it's dry. If it is not, bake it for fifteen minutes more.
If you want, when it comes out of the oven, start spreading some kind of sweet syrup over the top of it. You can use something as "simple" as a simple sugar syrup, or maple syrup, or a lemon syrup or anything like that. While the cake is hot, it will suck up lots of the syrup so have plenty ready.
If you prefer a more internal flavor, when you're mixing up the batter, add some lemon peel, or some lime peel, or the aforementioned mace and/or cinnamon, or nutmeg, or almond flavoring or rose water...
My "fey" rose geranium cake takes a bunch of rose geranium leaves and puts them on the bottom of the pan, and then bakes it away. The leaves add a floral and grassy flavor to the cake, and impart an interesting pattern to the bottom of the cake. If you are so inclined, and I am sometimes, by all means do it.
But again, I stress the suggestion of trying a nice, simple, serious vanilla cake. Slice some fruit alongside of it, or put some chocolate syrup on it, and VOILA. You're a serious adult again, even if you really would like a snowball or a twinkie
Fruit tartlets
Annalena went on the most wonderful road trip this weekend. The puppies, feeling that a honeymoon of some sort was in order for Guy and I, arranged a trip up to New Hampshire to hear some folk music, to do some "leaf peeping," and to have a ball along the way. And we did all of that. It was absolutely wonderful. Yours truly felt, very much, like a balloon must feel when somehow, it is let go and just floats, blissfully and serenely, in a lovely sky, surrounded by light. That's what good friends can do for you. It was yet another bottle in my own collection of 'dandelion wine'. Not coincidentally, the pups were involved. They frequently are when someone other than Guy makes me feel special.
In planning for the trip, my mind of course turned to "what SHALL we eat?" I had some ideas, and I will share them in subsequent blogs, but I also turned to the pups to ask them what they wanted. One wanted macaroni salad. No problem. One, however, wanted a tart or pie.
Well, any of you who have tried to move a tart or pie long distances, or in a car, knows that this is fraught with danger. I cannot tell you how many tarts or pies have turned to cobblers and pan dowdies and Buddha only knows what else on the road to where they were going. But Annalena is NOT going to disappoint her pups. Oh no. So, while fruit TARTS are difficult to travel, fruit TARTLETS are not. They are easy to handle, package well, and ultimately, when you're eating on the go, something you can take in your hand and eat easily is a good thing.
You need to start with an excellent crust dough. I use the one that my friend Dana taught me to make. You combine 1.5 cups of all purpose flour, 1.5 sticks of unsalted butter, cut into cubes, a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt, in a food processor. Then you pulse until you have a rough mass, with the butter slightly larger than peas. It's only about 20 pulses. Have some ice water ready, and pulse it in, tablespoon by tablespoon , until you get something that looks like the texture of wet sand. I needed four tablespoons for mine. Then dump all of this out on a surface and work it together into a circular mass. Wrap it, and let it refrigerate. You can get away with two hours, but I like to leave this overnight.
Next day, take your dough out and let it come to room temperature. Preheat your oven to 400 and select your fruit. You are not going to need an awful lot. We're going to be making 12 tartlets, and you'll need the equivalent of four medium sized nectarines. You can use berries, but remember you will only need a tablespoon or so of them for each tartlet. I suggest using two or even three different kinds of fruit, so everyone can find his or her favorite. If you are using small fruit, like berries, toss them in a bowl with a few tablespoons of sugar. If you are using peachs, or plums, or apples, or pears, slice them and do the same. Spice or not? You decide. Think about the fruit you have. I used nectarines (I can still get them) and raspberries (probably the last of the season), and I thought the flavors were so clean that adding spice was a no-no.
Roll out your dough, on a fairly heavily floured surface, and cut out three inch circles. I used the top of a measuring cup for doing this. When you have 12, line them up on a baking sheet, and brush them with a beaten egg (I did NOT do this and my tartlets were fine. Using the egg would have made them more secure). Then spoon your fruit onto the center of each circle. I cannot overestimate how important it is to restrain your tendency to be generous. These are small, and the pastry is very tasty. You don't need a tremendous amount of fruit.
Cut out more circles from your dough. If you find that you cannot get twelve, take the scraps and roll them again and cut. Not all of them wil be uniform in thickness, and that is just fine. This is homemade tartlets, remember. Lay these on top of the fruit and pinch the edges closed. The egg will help to "glue" them. Then brush the tops with more egg, cut a slit or hole in each, and sprinkle them heavily with sugar. Bake them for twenty minutes at 400, Check the color. If they are not brown enough for you, let them bake another ten minutes.
Let them cool. These travel really well, as they are very sturdy. And they are GOOD. I can honestly say that I could easily have eaten the whole batch with some good coffee.
I also believe that if you have savory stuff around, say chicken or something like that, you might very well be able to make the equivalent of a "pasty" as the Brits in Cornwall call them, doing exactly the same thing.
And if you have your own puppies, or dear friends whom you refer to by other names, make these, or make two batches, and ask them what their favorite fruit types are. Love comes back to you magnified. Trust me on this. I wouldn't lie about something as important as good food
In planning for the trip, my mind of course turned to "what SHALL we eat?" I had some ideas, and I will share them in subsequent blogs, but I also turned to the pups to ask them what they wanted. One wanted macaroni salad. No problem. One, however, wanted a tart or pie.
Well, any of you who have tried to move a tart or pie long distances, or in a car, knows that this is fraught with danger. I cannot tell you how many tarts or pies have turned to cobblers and pan dowdies and Buddha only knows what else on the road to where they were going. But Annalena is NOT going to disappoint her pups. Oh no. So, while fruit TARTS are difficult to travel, fruit TARTLETS are not. They are easy to handle, package well, and ultimately, when you're eating on the go, something you can take in your hand and eat easily is a good thing.
You need to start with an excellent crust dough. I use the one that my friend Dana taught me to make. You combine 1.5 cups of all purpose flour, 1.5 sticks of unsalted butter, cut into cubes, a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt, in a food processor. Then you pulse until you have a rough mass, with the butter slightly larger than peas. It's only about 20 pulses. Have some ice water ready, and pulse it in, tablespoon by tablespoon , until you get something that looks like the texture of wet sand. I needed four tablespoons for mine. Then dump all of this out on a surface and work it together into a circular mass. Wrap it, and let it refrigerate. You can get away with two hours, but I like to leave this overnight.
Next day, take your dough out and let it come to room temperature. Preheat your oven to 400 and select your fruit. You are not going to need an awful lot. We're going to be making 12 tartlets, and you'll need the equivalent of four medium sized nectarines. You can use berries, but remember you will only need a tablespoon or so of them for each tartlet. I suggest using two or even three different kinds of fruit, so everyone can find his or her favorite. If you are using small fruit, like berries, toss them in a bowl with a few tablespoons of sugar. If you are using peachs, or plums, or apples, or pears, slice them and do the same. Spice or not? You decide. Think about the fruit you have. I used nectarines (I can still get them) and raspberries (probably the last of the season), and I thought the flavors were so clean that adding spice was a no-no.
Roll out your dough, on a fairly heavily floured surface, and cut out three inch circles. I used the top of a measuring cup for doing this. When you have 12, line them up on a baking sheet, and brush them with a beaten egg (I did NOT do this and my tartlets were fine. Using the egg would have made them more secure). Then spoon your fruit onto the center of each circle. I cannot overestimate how important it is to restrain your tendency to be generous. These are small, and the pastry is very tasty. You don't need a tremendous amount of fruit.
Cut out more circles from your dough. If you find that you cannot get twelve, take the scraps and roll them again and cut. Not all of them wil be uniform in thickness, and that is just fine. This is homemade tartlets, remember. Lay these on top of the fruit and pinch the edges closed. The egg will help to "glue" them. Then brush the tops with more egg, cut a slit or hole in each, and sprinkle them heavily with sugar. Bake them for twenty minutes at 400, Check the color. If they are not brown enough for you, let them bake another ten minutes.
Let them cool. These travel really well, as they are very sturdy. And they are GOOD. I can honestly say that I could easily have eaten the whole batch with some good coffee.
I also believe that if you have savory stuff around, say chicken or something like that, you might very well be able to make the equivalent of a "pasty" as the Brits in Cornwall call them, doing exactly the same thing.
And if you have your own puppies, or dear friends whom you refer to by other names, make these, or make two batches, and ask them what their favorite fruit types are. Love comes back to you magnified. Trust me on this. I wouldn't lie about something as important as good food
She's back and she's roasting
Hello again all my dear ones. Did you miss me? I should explain, to those of you who may have been wondering: where has Annalena gone?
Well, after four and twenty years, Guy and I got married. Yup, full smells and bells, or more to the point FULL SMELLS AND BELLS. If you were at the ceremony and the party afterward, you know what I mean. We had a wonderful, grand old time. But I will give some advice to anyone who is thinking about doing this in the future: plan ahead, plan well, and plan to plan more than you thought you would. Our ceremony was on October 12, and rest assured that for all the time I was gone, I was getting ready for the ceremony. And recovering from the thereafter. This is not a simple undertaking, lovelies. And it is not a cheap one. Think long and hard before you do it, and then do it. I guarantee, you will not regret it, although it WILL hurt along the way.
But now, we're back in the kitchen, and we have some catching up to do. I would LOVE to make 300 entries before the end of the year, and then decide: shall we do another year, or shall we close up shop? There are SO many things, so many recipes, I would like you all to know about. And I DO have fun with this blog. But do you like it? Do you read it? I hear from so few of you that it is hard to tell. Perhaps you can take some time from your busy lives and let Annalena know what you think.
So, to turn to the topic at hand, which is roasting, roast beef in particular. For how many of us, was the "sunday roast" an important part of our growing up? Those big hunks of wonderful smelling meat, that provided dinner on Sunday, and then wonderful sandwiches for the days ahead. Remember them?
Chances are, you're misremembering. The truth is, roasting a large hunk of meat, like a roast beef, as we know it, is fraught with problems. Roasts are not uniform in size, and it is inevitable that some of it will be overcooked, some undercooked. Seasoning a roast is no easy task, as they are so large, and so thick, that it is next to impossible to get seasoning INTO the meat. The only way to do it with a large roast, is with a larding needle (something very few of us have, myself included), or by puncturing the meat and shoving the flavorings inside. This, of course, means that the juices of the roast will run out. You may get the makings of wonderful gravy, but you will NOT have tasty, succulent meat. In fact, you will probably have meat that NEEDS the gravy in order to be edible. And while excellent beef gravy is a thing of wonder and beauty, shouldn't we all be focusing on the meat?
Indeed, we should. And I am going to let you in on some of my secrets for making what I think is excellent roast beef.
First, start with the right cut, and the right TYPE of meat. I have told you all so many times of the importance of using grass fed meat, and I will repeat that. It will be more expensive, but it should be. Remember? SUNDAY roast? A roast is something special.
Now, to the cut. If you trust your meat man (or woman) s/he will ask you questions about how you like your roast beef and make an appropriate suggestion. I happen to love the eye round cut, which many people do NOT favor. Ask for help, explain what flavors you like in beef, and the good meat seller will guide you. I, however, will put in a plug for eye round.
Now, to a point that may be heresy. We all grew up with HUGE roasts, that weighed about five to seven pounds. This is why our moms and grandmoms were in the kitchen all day. A roast this size takes forever to cook, and has to be watched. The temperature needs to be regulated to make sure it cooks properly, etc, etc.
I suggest that you cook a SMALLER roast - no more than three pounds. If you have a lot of people to cook for, get two small ones. They will cook more evenly and quickly, and the chances of getting a more uniform, final product, are much higher.
As with all meat, start the night before by salting it. You will NOT regret this step with a beef roast. In fact, if you want more seasonings, now is the time to apply them and let the meat sit in the fridge, overnight.
A well cooked beef roast needs a lower temperature to cook it all the way through, and to retain the juices. This is more important still, with grass fed beef, which is so lean. But a roast cooked at a low temperature, will not take on that dark, caramely like crust that we all love. So, how do you solve it? Any hands up out there?
AH. I knew Sue would get it. Yes, you're right. Sue has been paying attention, and she knows how I cook. What you do is you heat up some oil - in this case, I prefer olive oil, and then sear the meat for a few minutes on all sides. I can't tell you how long. You have to be the judge of how dark you want that outside crust. I like it REALLY dark and crispy. So I take 3-4 minutes before I move it to an uncooked position.
When you have it, or them, nice and brown, place them in a baking or roasting pan (I honestly don't know what the difference is). If you have one roast, try to use a pan that gives it some room, but doesn't swallow it up in space. If you have two, space them to provide as much room as possible between them, to let the heat distribute properly. Else, you may wind up with steamed meat instead of roast meat.
Then, put the roast in the oven, preheated to 325 (a VERY low temperature), and go away. After about 90 minutes, do something rather scary to many people: make a cut in the center, and take a look: how far from cooked to the degree you want it, is it? If it's close, then turn off the oven, and let it sit there for another 20 minutes or so. If it is not, then let it cook for another twenty minutes before you check.
When you're done, let the roast cool at room temperature for another twenty minutes. You will read how this allows the juices and seasonings to redistribute, and that is true. It alos lets the muscle relax, so that you can cut it more easily.
Like with london broil, try to cut across the grain. Thin slices or thick, depending on how you like it. I prefer thinner slices. A good sharp knife is needed for thin slices. You should have one.
You will get more meat out of this than you may think. Certainly enough for dinner for six, or for lots and lots and lots of sandwiches. Or, for a handful of sandwiches, and some good eating as snacks and other things.
You may very well miss your family roast. But I bet that, at this point in your life, you have your own family and they probably miss theirs too. Reawaken those memories, have a family meal with your chosen family, as I did with part of mine this past weekend with a roast of this type, used to make sandwiches and to feed a very hungry young man, and have a lovely time.
Yes, I'm back. And I'm not going away.
Well, after four and twenty years, Guy and I got married. Yup, full smells and bells, or more to the point FULL SMELLS AND BELLS. If you were at the ceremony and the party afterward, you know what I mean. We had a wonderful, grand old time. But I will give some advice to anyone who is thinking about doing this in the future: plan ahead, plan well, and plan to plan more than you thought you would. Our ceremony was on October 12, and rest assured that for all the time I was gone, I was getting ready for the ceremony. And recovering from the thereafter. This is not a simple undertaking, lovelies. And it is not a cheap one. Think long and hard before you do it, and then do it. I guarantee, you will not regret it, although it WILL hurt along the way.
But now, we're back in the kitchen, and we have some catching up to do. I would LOVE to make 300 entries before the end of the year, and then decide: shall we do another year, or shall we close up shop? There are SO many things, so many recipes, I would like you all to know about. And I DO have fun with this blog. But do you like it? Do you read it? I hear from so few of you that it is hard to tell. Perhaps you can take some time from your busy lives and let Annalena know what you think.
So, to turn to the topic at hand, which is roasting, roast beef in particular. For how many of us, was the "sunday roast" an important part of our growing up? Those big hunks of wonderful smelling meat, that provided dinner on Sunday, and then wonderful sandwiches for the days ahead. Remember them?
Chances are, you're misremembering. The truth is, roasting a large hunk of meat, like a roast beef, as we know it, is fraught with problems. Roasts are not uniform in size, and it is inevitable that some of it will be overcooked, some undercooked. Seasoning a roast is no easy task, as they are so large, and so thick, that it is next to impossible to get seasoning INTO the meat. The only way to do it with a large roast, is with a larding needle (something very few of us have, myself included), or by puncturing the meat and shoving the flavorings inside. This, of course, means that the juices of the roast will run out. You may get the makings of wonderful gravy, but you will NOT have tasty, succulent meat. In fact, you will probably have meat that NEEDS the gravy in order to be edible. And while excellent beef gravy is a thing of wonder and beauty, shouldn't we all be focusing on the meat?
Indeed, we should. And I am going to let you in on some of my secrets for making what I think is excellent roast beef.
First, start with the right cut, and the right TYPE of meat. I have told you all so many times of the importance of using grass fed meat, and I will repeat that. It will be more expensive, but it should be. Remember? SUNDAY roast? A roast is something special.
Now, to the cut. If you trust your meat man (or woman) s/he will ask you questions about how you like your roast beef and make an appropriate suggestion. I happen to love the eye round cut, which many people do NOT favor. Ask for help, explain what flavors you like in beef, and the good meat seller will guide you. I, however, will put in a plug for eye round.
Now, to a point that may be heresy. We all grew up with HUGE roasts, that weighed about five to seven pounds. This is why our moms and grandmoms were in the kitchen all day. A roast this size takes forever to cook, and has to be watched. The temperature needs to be regulated to make sure it cooks properly, etc, etc.
I suggest that you cook a SMALLER roast - no more than three pounds. If you have a lot of people to cook for, get two small ones. They will cook more evenly and quickly, and the chances of getting a more uniform, final product, are much higher.
As with all meat, start the night before by salting it. You will NOT regret this step with a beef roast. In fact, if you want more seasonings, now is the time to apply them and let the meat sit in the fridge, overnight.
A well cooked beef roast needs a lower temperature to cook it all the way through, and to retain the juices. This is more important still, with grass fed beef, which is so lean. But a roast cooked at a low temperature, will not take on that dark, caramely like crust that we all love. So, how do you solve it? Any hands up out there?
AH. I knew Sue would get it. Yes, you're right. Sue has been paying attention, and she knows how I cook. What you do is you heat up some oil - in this case, I prefer olive oil, and then sear the meat for a few minutes on all sides. I can't tell you how long. You have to be the judge of how dark you want that outside crust. I like it REALLY dark and crispy. So I take 3-4 minutes before I move it to an uncooked position.
When you have it, or them, nice and brown, place them in a baking or roasting pan (I honestly don't know what the difference is). If you have one roast, try to use a pan that gives it some room, but doesn't swallow it up in space. If you have two, space them to provide as much room as possible between them, to let the heat distribute properly. Else, you may wind up with steamed meat instead of roast meat.
Then, put the roast in the oven, preheated to 325 (a VERY low temperature), and go away. After about 90 minutes, do something rather scary to many people: make a cut in the center, and take a look: how far from cooked to the degree you want it, is it? If it's close, then turn off the oven, and let it sit there for another 20 minutes or so. If it is not, then let it cook for another twenty minutes before you check.
When you're done, let the roast cool at room temperature for another twenty minutes. You will read how this allows the juices and seasonings to redistribute, and that is true. It alos lets the muscle relax, so that you can cut it more easily.
Like with london broil, try to cut across the grain. Thin slices or thick, depending on how you like it. I prefer thinner slices. A good sharp knife is needed for thin slices. You should have one.
You will get more meat out of this than you may think. Certainly enough for dinner for six, or for lots and lots and lots of sandwiches. Or, for a handful of sandwiches, and some good eating as snacks and other things.
You may very well miss your family roast. But I bet that, at this point in your life, you have your own family and they probably miss theirs too. Reawaken those memories, have a family meal with your chosen family, as I did with part of mine this past weekend with a roast of this type, used to make sandwiches and to feed a very hungry young man, and have a lovely time.
Yes, I'm back. And I'm not going away.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
apple, apple applesauce, applesauce, applesauce
One of my former colleagues has a daughter, and she came home from preschool one day, all excited about making applesauce and the song she learned while they were making it. The song is above.
Well, I made applesauce today, too, and I'm excited about it too.
I put applesauce in the same category of foods that I do peanut butter, and grilled cheese, and foods like that. We ate them as kids all the time. We LOVED them. And then we stopped. Why? Today, I think we consider applesauce something for children, and also for elderly who can't handle anything solid. And as a result, what you can buy in the store, unfortunately, even at the organic level, is truly awful. And you shouldn't buy it, because you can make it yourself in half an hour. And you can make it the way you like it.
All you need for applesauce, really, is apples and a little bit of water. Spices , especially a cinnamon stick, are nice, as are things like quinces (a MUST for me). Sugar too if your apples are tart or you like the applesauce sweet. And because it's so easy, you can do it any way you like.
BUT... if you're going to make applesauce, you really can' t make it with less than three, and preferably at least five, pounds of apples. The reason for this is that the apples are going to shrink down markedly. You will be astounded how little you have left. But it's worth it. You can use it just as it is (it is a MIGHTY fine thing to sit there and eat, feeling comforted). My friend David E, combines it with cottage cheese. I'll leave that to him. I like it with some cherry preserves stirred in, or on top of a very thickly buttered slice of dark bread. So make it, and you'll see how fast you use it. Don't forget the apple sauce cakes, and as a sauce for meet, and other thing.
So how do you do it? Okay, let's start with a three pound bag of apples, and know that for five, it's the same. Quarter them, after you've washed them. Don't bother peeling them or seeding them. Just dump them all into a big heavy pot. If you're using quinces, shred them. You want to shred the quinces because they take longer to cook than apples, and if you quartered them, it would take forever. Mix these all together, with whatever spices you like. I like a stick of cinnamon in mine. You may prefer cloves, or nutmeg, or anything like that. Feel free to play. Stir in half a cup of water and cover the pot tightly and put it on low heat. After ten minutes, open the pot and smell... FALL. Press the fruit down and you'll see how it falls apart. Stir it up, cover it and cook it for another ten minutes, and, guess what? You are ALMOST finished.
Almost, because you have all those pits and skin in there. I put mine through a food mill, but you can use a collander too. Just press all the sauce through it, and leave the junk behind. And you have your applesauce. Taste it, and add as much sugar as you want, or don't add any at all.
Depending on your apple variety, you will either get a greenish yellow, pink, or pale red finished product. For heaven's sakes, DONT add food coloring.
I prefer to use single varieties of apples when I make applesauce. I feel that mixing diminishes the flavor of each variety, and I shall have much more to say about different varieities of apples as autumn goes forward.
You will love yourself for this simple dish. And if you have it in the fridge, and you find a recipe for applesauce cake, well, you don't have to worry about not being able to make it.
And applesauce cake is GOOD.... You'll see..
Well, I made applesauce today, too, and I'm excited about it too.
I put applesauce in the same category of foods that I do peanut butter, and grilled cheese, and foods like that. We ate them as kids all the time. We LOVED them. And then we stopped. Why? Today, I think we consider applesauce something for children, and also for elderly who can't handle anything solid. And as a result, what you can buy in the store, unfortunately, even at the organic level, is truly awful. And you shouldn't buy it, because you can make it yourself in half an hour. And you can make it the way you like it.
All you need for applesauce, really, is apples and a little bit of water. Spices , especially a cinnamon stick, are nice, as are things like quinces (a MUST for me). Sugar too if your apples are tart or you like the applesauce sweet. And because it's so easy, you can do it any way you like.
BUT... if you're going to make applesauce, you really can' t make it with less than three, and preferably at least five, pounds of apples. The reason for this is that the apples are going to shrink down markedly. You will be astounded how little you have left. But it's worth it. You can use it just as it is (it is a MIGHTY fine thing to sit there and eat, feeling comforted). My friend David E, combines it with cottage cheese. I'll leave that to him. I like it with some cherry preserves stirred in, or on top of a very thickly buttered slice of dark bread. So make it, and you'll see how fast you use it. Don't forget the apple sauce cakes, and as a sauce for meet, and other thing.
So how do you do it? Okay, let's start with a three pound bag of apples, and know that for five, it's the same. Quarter them, after you've washed them. Don't bother peeling them or seeding them. Just dump them all into a big heavy pot. If you're using quinces, shred them. You want to shred the quinces because they take longer to cook than apples, and if you quartered them, it would take forever. Mix these all together, with whatever spices you like. I like a stick of cinnamon in mine. You may prefer cloves, or nutmeg, or anything like that. Feel free to play. Stir in half a cup of water and cover the pot tightly and put it on low heat. After ten minutes, open the pot and smell... FALL. Press the fruit down and you'll see how it falls apart. Stir it up, cover it and cook it for another ten minutes, and, guess what? You are ALMOST finished.
Almost, because you have all those pits and skin in there. I put mine through a food mill, but you can use a collander too. Just press all the sauce through it, and leave the junk behind. And you have your applesauce. Taste it, and add as much sugar as you want, or don't add any at all.
Depending on your apple variety, you will either get a greenish yellow, pink, or pale red finished product. For heaven's sakes, DONT add food coloring.
I prefer to use single varieties of apples when I make applesauce. I feel that mixing diminishes the flavor of each variety, and I shall have much more to say about different varieities of apples as autumn goes forward.
You will love yourself for this simple dish. And if you have it in the fridge, and you find a recipe for applesauce cake, well, you don't have to worry about not being able to make it.
And applesauce cake is GOOD.... You'll see..
"Intimacy"
Now, there's a loaded word, isn't it? What, precisely, does it mean? Damned if I know. Advertising uses it, all the time, for describing things like lingerie, or what we used to call " private dainties."
To me, that's only part of it. "Being intimate" can mean sharing a part of you that makes you vulnerable. Not "has the potential to" but MAKES you vulnerable. I have been thinking about this concept over the past few days, after being invited to watch my dear friend in a vocal coaching session. Performers, of any kind, are proud of what they do. When they do it, we expect them to make it look effortless. Who wants to see the strain on a gymnast's face when he or she is doing a difficult maneuver, or hear a dancer curse when s/he's doing some difficult leap? No, we don't want that. We want to see it done perfectly, easily, and without any visible sign of strain. We want to feel "gee, that looks easy."
Well, getting to that point clearly is NOT easy, and that's where the vulnerability, and the intimacy comes, in sharing how you "get there "with someone. It's a level of exposure that other performers have told me is akin to someone stripping naked in front of you. To invite a non-performer in, to see this very private kind of thing is an honor. My UPEX boys have done it, my friend has done it. I am moved and terrified by it, at the same time. I have described my feelings about it as trying to hold onto a comet (a strong image from Ovid's Metamorphosis, which I've been rereading. Go to the last story and read about how Venus tried to hold her son, Julius Ceaser's soul, after he had been assasinated. Ovid described it better than I could). And try as I might to hold onto that feeling, that "comet, it's best let go, so that I can "watch it," at least in the sky of my mind's eye. Every time I have been in these situations, I haven't wanted them to end. And at the same time, I get to a point where I know it's time to let the comet go.
So, what does this rumination have to do with cooking? Well, now that's the loaded question of the day, isn't it? I have been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between cooking (which I view as a craft), to things like dance and singing (which I view as arts). Parallels can be drawn, but they are attenuated. I was telling some friends about a dance performance I saw that I loved it because it reminded me of the way I cook. I will try to articulate that in writing in the future. It's not a good parallel, but it's a partial one. So, too, with the exposure and vulnerability of a singer, and then cooking. When you invite someone into your home, and feed them, you want everything to be perfect. You want it to look like you never sweated a drop. But when you trust someone intimately, you ask them into your KITCHEN. You let them see you work. You let them see how you sweat, how you don't get everything right, how there are faults along the way. And you keep on going. And if you're as fortunate as I am, you have truly good friends who are also performers and who "get it." And if you miss a note - the soup is too salty, the fish isn't brown enough - they say nothing and you enjoy being with each other, even though YOU, as the cook, the "perfomer du jour" know that it wasn't quite right. And that's just fine. Because now you know where you have work to do, and because you've shared a part of you that isn't really something for public consumption.
So that's where my thoughts on the parallels between cooking, art and intimacy come together. And I want to post a recipe for my friends who showed me this. You all know who you are.
One of the things that I have found, in chatting and eating with you guys, is you're all afraid of CARBS!!!! Oi. If Annalena could not have her carbs, she'd be more of a mess than she is. But anyway, yesterday, I made a recipe with such a minimal amount of carbs in it, that I have to share it with you boys. There are breadcrumbs in it. Leave them out if you don't want that two tablespoons of it in the whole dish, which is a savory cheesecake.
You need a springform pan for this. Nine inches. Measure. You are also going to need a pound and a half of cream cheese. Low fat is ok, non fat is not. Also, about a cup of grated cheddar cheese, the strongest you can find. A half cup of cream - HEAVY cream. Three eggs, too. And finally, a pint of some kind of salsa or relish. Now, this is one where the no carbs rule can fail. I know that there are many vegetables that the non-carb eater can't have. But there are also others that you can, and you know what they are. I used a mushroom onion apple relish, but use what works for you.
Preheat your oven to 325. Then, put the cream cheese in a bowl and with a mixer, work it until it's soft. Then blend in the cream, then the eggs, one at a time. Now add in half of your grated cheese. Finally, blend in that pint of relish or salsa or whatever you like (you could probably even use 2 cups of a chopped up or cooked vegetable, now that I think of it. Spinach anyone?). Taste it. If it needs salt, add it now.
Get your springform pan, and grease it, with butter (preferably), or oil, or whatever you use for these things. Breadcrumbs make this easier but you dont have to use them, so if you do, sprinkle some breadcrumbs in the pan, shake it around, and coat the pan with them. Then dump all of that stuff into the pan, and then sprinkle the rest of the grated cheese on top of it.
Put this into the oven for an hour and a quarter. It will darken, the cheese will crisp up, and your kitchen is going to smell wonderful. Take it out of the oven and let it cool down completely. Dishes like this need to sit, to solidify and become "whole. " It's rich, so eat it in small portions, maybe with salad if you can.
Boys, I love you all so dearly. I don't have much to offer in return. Hope you like this, and I'll make it for you anytime you like
To me, that's only part of it. "Being intimate" can mean sharing a part of you that makes you vulnerable. Not "has the potential to" but MAKES you vulnerable. I have been thinking about this concept over the past few days, after being invited to watch my dear friend in a vocal coaching session. Performers, of any kind, are proud of what they do. When they do it, we expect them to make it look effortless. Who wants to see the strain on a gymnast's face when he or she is doing a difficult maneuver, or hear a dancer curse when s/he's doing some difficult leap? No, we don't want that. We want to see it done perfectly, easily, and without any visible sign of strain. We want to feel "gee, that looks easy."
Well, getting to that point clearly is NOT easy, and that's where the vulnerability, and the intimacy comes, in sharing how you "get there "with someone. It's a level of exposure that other performers have told me is akin to someone stripping naked in front of you. To invite a non-performer in, to see this very private kind of thing is an honor. My UPEX boys have done it, my friend has done it. I am moved and terrified by it, at the same time. I have described my feelings about it as trying to hold onto a comet (a strong image from Ovid's Metamorphosis, which I've been rereading. Go to the last story and read about how Venus tried to hold her son, Julius Ceaser's soul, after he had been assasinated. Ovid described it better than I could). And try as I might to hold onto that feeling, that "comet, it's best let go, so that I can "watch it," at least in the sky of my mind's eye. Every time I have been in these situations, I haven't wanted them to end. And at the same time, I get to a point where I know it's time to let the comet go.
So, what does this rumination have to do with cooking? Well, now that's the loaded question of the day, isn't it? I have been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between cooking (which I view as a craft), to things like dance and singing (which I view as arts). Parallels can be drawn, but they are attenuated. I was telling some friends about a dance performance I saw that I loved it because it reminded me of the way I cook. I will try to articulate that in writing in the future. It's not a good parallel, but it's a partial one. So, too, with the exposure and vulnerability of a singer, and then cooking. When you invite someone into your home, and feed them, you want everything to be perfect. You want it to look like you never sweated a drop. But when you trust someone intimately, you ask them into your KITCHEN. You let them see you work. You let them see how you sweat, how you don't get everything right, how there are faults along the way. And you keep on going. And if you're as fortunate as I am, you have truly good friends who are also performers and who "get it." And if you miss a note - the soup is too salty, the fish isn't brown enough - they say nothing and you enjoy being with each other, even though YOU, as the cook, the "perfomer du jour" know that it wasn't quite right. And that's just fine. Because now you know where you have work to do, and because you've shared a part of you that isn't really something for public consumption.
So that's where my thoughts on the parallels between cooking, art and intimacy come together. And I want to post a recipe for my friends who showed me this. You all know who you are.
One of the things that I have found, in chatting and eating with you guys, is you're all afraid of CARBS!!!! Oi. If Annalena could not have her carbs, she'd be more of a mess than she is. But anyway, yesterday, I made a recipe with such a minimal amount of carbs in it, that I have to share it with you boys. There are breadcrumbs in it. Leave them out if you don't want that two tablespoons of it in the whole dish, which is a savory cheesecake.
You need a springform pan for this. Nine inches. Measure. You are also going to need a pound and a half of cream cheese. Low fat is ok, non fat is not. Also, about a cup of grated cheddar cheese, the strongest you can find. A half cup of cream - HEAVY cream. Three eggs, too. And finally, a pint of some kind of salsa or relish. Now, this is one where the no carbs rule can fail. I know that there are many vegetables that the non-carb eater can't have. But there are also others that you can, and you know what they are. I used a mushroom onion apple relish, but use what works for you.
Preheat your oven to 325. Then, put the cream cheese in a bowl and with a mixer, work it until it's soft. Then blend in the cream, then the eggs, one at a time. Now add in half of your grated cheese. Finally, blend in that pint of relish or salsa or whatever you like (you could probably even use 2 cups of a chopped up or cooked vegetable, now that I think of it. Spinach anyone?). Taste it. If it needs salt, add it now.
Get your springform pan, and grease it, with butter (preferably), or oil, or whatever you use for these things. Breadcrumbs make this easier but you dont have to use them, so if you do, sprinkle some breadcrumbs in the pan, shake it around, and coat the pan with them. Then dump all of that stuff into the pan, and then sprinkle the rest of the grated cheese on top of it.
Put this into the oven for an hour and a quarter. It will darken, the cheese will crisp up, and your kitchen is going to smell wonderful. Take it out of the oven and let it cool down completely. Dishes like this need to sit, to solidify and become "whole. " It's rich, so eat it in small portions, maybe with salad if you can.
Boys, I love you all so dearly. I don't have much to offer in return. Hope you like this, and I'll make it for you anytime you like
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