We are now deep into the cookie baking season. As I wrote, last week, it's going to be a haul this year, but Annalena has decided to give it her level best. It won't kill me, but it will be tough. The year, the surgery, etc, etc, etc, have taken their toll, and the old lady gets tired. The days (and nights) of ten cookie varieties at a clip are over. So we plod on, looking for easy and tasty. And here's one such cookie, courtesy of Ina Garten. I didn't realize it when I looked at it, but this one is also gluten free. In fact, all of Annalena's "cooking" today was gluten free. So, anyone want a recipe for white chocolate/pistachio/cranberry bark?
This recipe is , in many ways, vintage Ina Garten. It's somewhat lush, and it's also somewhat easy. In fact, it's absurdly easy. Simple ingredients, simple techniques, and it makes a lot. There's one caveat from my experience of it, but I think it's handleable. Here we go.
Your ingredients, and you can double them: one package of sweetened coconut (a 14 ounce bag). One can of condensed milk (also fourteen ounces). Two egg whites from large or extra large eggs, and a teaspoon of vanilla.
Preheat your oven to 325. Line a couple of baking sheets with parchment. Now, let's get going. In a bowl, mix the coconut, the condensed milk and the vanilla and put it aside. In a mixer, or, if you feel like showing off, by hand, beat the egg whites until they form a soft peak. What's a soft peak? Lift the beater blade, and if there's a little "curl" that folds down, you're there. Fold those into the mix you've already made.
You can spoon out the cookies a million ways. my way of doing it was to wet my hands (the stuff is sticky), and roll small balls, about 3/4 of an inch in diameter. Spread them on the baking sheets. You should get about 30 to a sheet. Then bake them for 30 minutes or so. Check on them. If they're not brown enough for you, bake them five minutes more.
And that's it. Almost. What I found, with mine, is that some of the condensed milk and egg white flowed out of the cookie, making an ugly rubbery ring around the cookie. When they cooled, I just cut that stuff off. I must admit, it tasted good, but it made for an ugly cookie.
Now, how hard was that? Not at all. And we ALL love macaroons, don't we? So, if you are not going to get a couple fro Annalena when she starts making her tins (more on this idea below), make em. It's an hour out of your life, and people will love you.
What I want to add about these, is that if you put together mixed tins, as I do, these are very moist cookies. Moisture moves away from a moist cookie to a drier one, so your biscotti will soften if they are in a tin with these. The way to minimize this is to leave the tin of cookies open, to let the moisture escape to the air. Of course, this makes you more amenable to stealing a cookie or two, but hey, it's the holidays, right?
Go for it. You'll be glad you did.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Per il mio fratellino courtesy of Nadia G: Beef stew with root vegetables
"Fratellino." Do you all know that word? It's a good one. It means "little brother," but not necessarily in the birth sense. Someone whom you regard as "little brother", you can call fratellino. It sounds a bit like a frilly word, but that's Eyetalian for you.
I have a chosen little brother. Not gonna tell you who he is: let him tell you that, if he wants to. And when I was making this dish, it dawned on me: "this is his kind of meal." It is, too. He'll tell you that as well. So, here it is, "per il mio fratellino."
I learned this recipe, when channel surfing last week. There is a new cooking channel on, and one of the shows had the intriguing name "Bitchin' Kitchen."
Ok, Annalena has been called a bitch, more than once, and it's a title she bears proudly. The hostess of this show is a woman whom I could see growing up in Staten Island or in Brooklyn: a rough edged (I don't believe it), bleached blond Italian girl, with green nails and red high heels, who "tawks." (My NY friends will know what I mean). Anyway, she was doing a recipe as part of a show on what to do when you have no money. This is one of the recipes.
Now, I GUESS you can make this dish cheap. I didn't. I bought all of my veggies from the farmers market, and the beef was grass fed. The meat itself set me back 30 bucks, so already, we're getting a little high here. You add the other ingredients, and you're easily, EASILY pushing the 50 buck mark for the dish. It's good though. You can make this with an inexpensive cut of meat, I guess. I'll give some comments on that below.
If you use the cheaper cuts, I think the dish probably does fall into the "good. fast. cheap. Choose two" category, because it will be inexpensive, and it IS good. It is NOT a fast dish, however. My beef was much leaner, and I was able to take an hour off the cooking time, but it's still not a "20 minute dinner." So, get set for some serious kitchen time, but know you're going to have a lot of food. A LOT of food.
I'm reworking the instructions and ingredients for the dish, which you'll see if you watch the show and see the stew made.
First, you need root vegetables. Which ones and how many? Well , the how many is hard to say because your measurements here are going to be rather imprecise. Which ones? Well, this is up to you. I used parsley root, golden beets, carrots, and onions. Parsley root and golden beets aren't exactly standard supermarket fare, so modify these. Nadia used parsnips, onions, beets and carrots. I think the carrots are necessary. You could substitute sweet potatoes, or potatoes, or whatever you like. What you need to do is peel the peelable vegetables, and then cut them into evenly sized cubes. Fill a baking sheet with your veggies, and then add about six cloves of garlic, peeled, to them. Toss 3 tablespoons of olive oil and a big pinch of salt with the veggies, and then put the tray into a preheated, 375 degree oven, and let them roast, for 45 minutes.
Near the end of the roasting time, get your beef ready. You need 3 pounds of beef stew meat. Pat it dry, and then put it into a bag with half a cup of flour that has been mixed with a teaspoon of salt. Toss the stuff around, to coat the beef. Then, pour it all into a colander, to get rid of extra flour . Clean your sink with COLD water (it will make it MUCH easier to clean. Trust me).
Heat up about 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a wide pan. When it's hot, add enough meat to cover the pan, but don't crowd it. Leave it alone, for about three minutes to put a good, dark sear on it. Then turn it, and sear the rest of the meat. If you haven't done all of it in one layer, then do it again. Put all of the cooked meat into a bowl for a minute.
Off the heat, add about half to 3/4 cup of red wine to the pan. Move your face back, and let the steam come off. Then put this back on the stove, and stir up all the brown bits into that wine. When you've dissolved just about all of it, pour that over the meat.
By now, your vegetables will have been roasted. Get them out of the oven, and let them be for now. You can put them in a bowl, mixed together, if you like. Put the beef and the juices into a pot and add six cups of beef stock, or , if your beef stock is canned and/or strong (as mine was), use four cups of stock and two cups of water. Add a couple of bay leaves, a carrot, sliced in half, three stalks of celery, a few branches of thyme , and a handful of peppercorns. Bring this to a boil, then lower the heat, and let it cook away.
Now, here's where Nadia and I parted company. She calls for cooking this for two hours. For reasons totally lost to me, I tasted the meat after an hour, and it was more than fine. You do the same thing. Maybe my pieces were smaller than hers, maybe the meat was a different quality, who knows? Just taste it and if it needs more cooking, let it work for another half hour, at least.
When the meat is pretty much where you want it, pull out the carrot and celery and, if you can find them, the bay leaves and the thyme branches (it will NOT be easy). Add the veggies. Nadia also calls for adding a half cup of red lentils, the ones you will find as "dhal" in a health food store. I had some in the house (some of you will be saying "of course you did"), and used them. I guess they are there to thicken the stew a bit. You certainly don't need them, and some of them will settle down to the bottom of your pot and stick there, and will need to be cleaned. Your call.
Now, re-cover that pot, and let everything cook for another twenty minutes. Taste it, and correct for salt and pepper. Here's a hint from Annalena: the meat is going to taste underseasoned. Taste the liquid. That's going to be the flavor carrier here. Taste it as you go along, and adjust with more salt and pepper, if you need to.
When the dish is finished, if you taste it right away, all you will taste is fat. That's the nature of the dish. Let it sit for fifteen minutes. Taste it again. NOW, you're ready to eat it. If you want to, but really, remember the old saying that all stews are better the second day, and even better the third? Well, it's true. And if you let the thing cool down in your fridge, you can go in and scoop out the beef fat if you want to.
As a certified Eyetalian-american, I can't imagine eating this with anything other than polenta. Il fratellino is probably going to go for noodles. It's all good. I would put a salad of fennel and oranges out with it. Il fratellino might go for more of a coleslaw or a green salad, which is again, all good.
I think you'll find this dish to be something like a warm hug on a cold day. That's the intention. Don't go for the cheap angle, go for the good stuff, and you'll be happy you did.
I betcha fratellino is gonna make this tomorrow. Let' see...
I have a chosen little brother. Not gonna tell you who he is: let him tell you that, if he wants to. And when I was making this dish, it dawned on me: "this is his kind of meal." It is, too. He'll tell you that as well. So, here it is, "per il mio fratellino."
I learned this recipe, when channel surfing last week. There is a new cooking channel on, and one of the shows had the intriguing name "Bitchin' Kitchen."
Ok, Annalena has been called a bitch, more than once, and it's a title she bears proudly. The hostess of this show is a woman whom I could see growing up in Staten Island or in Brooklyn: a rough edged (I don't believe it), bleached blond Italian girl, with green nails and red high heels, who "tawks." (My NY friends will know what I mean). Anyway, she was doing a recipe as part of a show on what to do when you have no money. This is one of the recipes.
Now, I GUESS you can make this dish cheap. I didn't. I bought all of my veggies from the farmers market, and the beef was grass fed. The meat itself set me back 30 bucks, so already, we're getting a little high here. You add the other ingredients, and you're easily, EASILY pushing the 50 buck mark for the dish. It's good though. You can make this with an inexpensive cut of meat, I guess. I'll give some comments on that below.
If you use the cheaper cuts, I think the dish probably does fall into the "good. fast. cheap. Choose two" category, because it will be inexpensive, and it IS good. It is NOT a fast dish, however. My beef was much leaner, and I was able to take an hour off the cooking time, but it's still not a "20 minute dinner." So, get set for some serious kitchen time, but know you're going to have a lot of food. A LOT of food.
I'm reworking the instructions and ingredients for the dish, which you'll see if you watch the show and see the stew made.
First, you need root vegetables. Which ones and how many? Well , the how many is hard to say because your measurements here are going to be rather imprecise. Which ones? Well, this is up to you. I used parsley root, golden beets, carrots, and onions. Parsley root and golden beets aren't exactly standard supermarket fare, so modify these. Nadia used parsnips, onions, beets and carrots. I think the carrots are necessary. You could substitute sweet potatoes, or potatoes, or whatever you like. What you need to do is peel the peelable vegetables, and then cut them into evenly sized cubes. Fill a baking sheet with your veggies, and then add about six cloves of garlic, peeled, to them. Toss 3 tablespoons of olive oil and a big pinch of salt with the veggies, and then put the tray into a preheated, 375 degree oven, and let them roast, for 45 minutes.
Near the end of the roasting time, get your beef ready. You need 3 pounds of beef stew meat. Pat it dry, and then put it into a bag with half a cup of flour that has been mixed with a teaspoon of salt. Toss the stuff around, to coat the beef. Then, pour it all into a colander, to get rid of extra flour . Clean your sink with COLD water (it will make it MUCH easier to clean. Trust me).
Heat up about 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a wide pan. When it's hot, add enough meat to cover the pan, but don't crowd it. Leave it alone, for about three minutes to put a good, dark sear on it. Then turn it, and sear the rest of the meat. If you haven't done all of it in one layer, then do it again. Put all of the cooked meat into a bowl for a minute.
Off the heat, add about half to 3/4 cup of red wine to the pan. Move your face back, and let the steam come off. Then put this back on the stove, and stir up all the brown bits into that wine. When you've dissolved just about all of it, pour that over the meat.
By now, your vegetables will have been roasted. Get them out of the oven, and let them be for now. You can put them in a bowl, mixed together, if you like. Put the beef and the juices into a pot and add six cups of beef stock, or , if your beef stock is canned and/or strong (as mine was), use four cups of stock and two cups of water. Add a couple of bay leaves, a carrot, sliced in half, three stalks of celery, a few branches of thyme , and a handful of peppercorns. Bring this to a boil, then lower the heat, and let it cook away.
Now, here's where Nadia and I parted company. She calls for cooking this for two hours. For reasons totally lost to me, I tasted the meat after an hour, and it was more than fine. You do the same thing. Maybe my pieces were smaller than hers, maybe the meat was a different quality, who knows? Just taste it and if it needs more cooking, let it work for another half hour, at least.
When the meat is pretty much where you want it, pull out the carrot and celery and, if you can find them, the bay leaves and the thyme branches (it will NOT be easy). Add the veggies. Nadia also calls for adding a half cup of red lentils, the ones you will find as "dhal" in a health food store. I had some in the house (some of you will be saying "of course you did"), and used them. I guess they are there to thicken the stew a bit. You certainly don't need them, and some of them will settle down to the bottom of your pot and stick there, and will need to be cleaned. Your call.
Now, re-cover that pot, and let everything cook for another twenty minutes. Taste it, and correct for salt and pepper. Here's a hint from Annalena: the meat is going to taste underseasoned. Taste the liquid. That's going to be the flavor carrier here. Taste it as you go along, and adjust with more salt and pepper, if you need to.
When the dish is finished, if you taste it right away, all you will taste is fat. That's the nature of the dish. Let it sit for fifteen minutes. Taste it again. NOW, you're ready to eat it. If you want to, but really, remember the old saying that all stews are better the second day, and even better the third? Well, it's true. And if you let the thing cool down in your fridge, you can go in and scoop out the beef fat if you want to.
As a certified Eyetalian-american, I can't imagine eating this with anything other than polenta. Il fratellino is probably going to go for noodles. It's all good. I would put a salad of fennel and oranges out with it. Il fratellino might go for more of a coleslaw or a green salad, which is again, all good.
I think you'll find this dish to be something like a warm hug on a cold day. That's the intention. Don't go for the cheap angle, go for the good stuff, and you'll be happy you did.
I betcha fratellino is gonna make this tomorrow. Let' see...
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A holiday biscotti recipe: dried cranberries and pistachio
Every year, in what can only be described as a fit of madness, I make thousands of holiday cookies. Different flavors, textures, types, origins. They vary from year to year, but some are pretty constant. This is one of them.
If you think about it, it makes sense. Green from pistachios, red from cranberries. What makes it very appealing to me, is the absence of butterfat in the cookie, because let's face it: we all eat too many bad, butter cookies during the holiday season. They are INEVITABLE. But we all want "something" when we're sitting down to coffee, or to a sweet drink , or just to nibble on. And the salty element, from the pistachios, is "just enough" to keep these guys from being cloying.
I have written in the past about the differences between American style and Italian style biscotti. These are DEFINITELY Italian style: dry, not so sweet, and with flavor that isn't all sweet. Alas and alack, it does seem that Italy is going the way of the good ole' USA. This recipe, as written, makes 36 cookies. The way I make them, it makes about 80. And that's a-ok. Smaller is sometimes better and, when you're looking at an array of different cookies, with different flavors, you do want to be able to try as many as possible, without feeling guilty, don't you?
Well, I do.
This is an adaptation of a recipe from the remarkable Carol Field, who has taught so many of us how to do authentic Italian baking. Her 8 hour panettone is a staple in the house at the holiday time, even if it DOES take 8 hours to make. And many of her bread recipes grace our everyday table. One day, I will master her pan pugliese and ciabatta recipes. For now, though, let's make some cookies.
You need 1/4 pound of dried cranberries. Ms. Field suggests soaking them in hot water for five minutes, draining and drying. I don't bother. You also need a cup of shelled pistachios. I use salted ones. Three large eggs. Dry ingredients are 2.5 cups of all purpose flour, a cup of sugar, a half teaspoon of each of baking soda, baking powder, and salt. You also need a teaspoon of vanilla.
In a mixer, with the paddle, blend the dry ingredients together, and then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla. Then stir in the fruit and nuts.
Every time I make this recipe, I find it too dry, and add a quarter cup or so of liquid. You know how to judge, so keep your eye on it.
Ms Field suggests dividing the dough in halves. I do it by thirds, and then roll the dough out to a 13 inch log. Brush each log with a wash of one egg mixed with a tablespoon of water, and if you like, sprinkle some raw sugar on them. Bake these at 325 for 30 minutes. Ms. Field says you can get away with cooling for ten minutes. I let them cool at least half an hour, usually more. She then cuts each log into 3/4 inch slices on a diagonal. Mine are much smaller . Then, put the slices back in the oven and let them bake at 325 for 10 minutes, before you turn them over and bake them again, also for ten minutes. (I don't do this, because mine are so small. I just put them on baking sheets, close the oven which I've preheated and then turned off, and come back in 15 minutes. The preheat is to 325).
Ms Field cuts each log into 18 slices. I get closer to 30 out of each of mine, because I think the smaller cookies are better, especially in an assortment. It works either way.
Try em, and let me know how they turn out. Incidentally, you should feel free to start playing with this recipe and changing things. Cherry and pistachio? For sure? But don't forget about the relationship between apricot and almonds. Or, maybe get a little fancy and try some chopped macadamia nuts and some dried pineapple.. That is a bit too off the wall for the very traditional Annalena, but if you are so inclined, go for it. That's what cooking is all about.
If you think about it, it makes sense. Green from pistachios, red from cranberries. What makes it very appealing to me, is the absence of butterfat in the cookie, because let's face it: we all eat too many bad, butter cookies during the holiday season. They are INEVITABLE. But we all want "something" when we're sitting down to coffee, or to a sweet drink , or just to nibble on. And the salty element, from the pistachios, is "just enough" to keep these guys from being cloying.
I have written in the past about the differences between American style and Italian style biscotti. These are DEFINITELY Italian style: dry, not so sweet, and with flavor that isn't all sweet. Alas and alack, it does seem that Italy is going the way of the good ole' USA. This recipe, as written, makes 36 cookies. The way I make them, it makes about 80. And that's a-ok. Smaller is sometimes better and, when you're looking at an array of different cookies, with different flavors, you do want to be able to try as many as possible, without feeling guilty, don't you?
Well, I do.
This is an adaptation of a recipe from the remarkable Carol Field, who has taught so many of us how to do authentic Italian baking. Her 8 hour panettone is a staple in the house at the holiday time, even if it DOES take 8 hours to make. And many of her bread recipes grace our everyday table. One day, I will master her pan pugliese and ciabatta recipes. For now, though, let's make some cookies.
You need 1/4 pound of dried cranberries. Ms. Field suggests soaking them in hot water for five minutes, draining and drying. I don't bother. You also need a cup of shelled pistachios. I use salted ones. Three large eggs. Dry ingredients are 2.5 cups of all purpose flour, a cup of sugar, a half teaspoon of each of baking soda, baking powder, and salt. You also need a teaspoon of vanilla.
In a mixer, with the paddle, blend the dry ingredients together, and then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla. Then stir in the fruit and nuts.
Every time I make this recipe, I find it too dry, and add a quarter cup or so of liquid. You know how to judge, so keep your eye on it.
Ms Field suggests dividing the dough in halves. I do it by thirds, and then roll the dough out to a 13 inch log. Brush each log with a wash of one egg mixed with a tablespoon of water, and if you like, sprinkle some raw sugar on them. Bake these at 325 for 30 minutes. Ms. Field says you can get away with cooling for ten minutes. I let them cool at least half an hour, usually more. She then cuts each log into 3/4 inch slices on a diagonal. Mine are much smaller . Then, put the slices back in the oven and let them bake at 325 for 10 minutes, before you turn them over and bake them again, also for ten minutes. (I don't do this, because mine are so small. I just put them on baking sheets, close the oven which I've preheated and then turned off, and come back in 15 minutes. The preheat is to 325).
Ms Field cuts each log into 18 slices. I get closer to 30 out of each of mine, because I think the smaller cookies are better, especially in an assortment. It works either way.
Try em, and let me know how they turn out. Incidentally, you should feel free to start playing with this recipe and changing things. Cherry and pistachio? For sure? But don't forget about the relationship between apricot and almonds. Or, maybe get a little fancy and try some chopped macadamia nuts and some dried pineapple.. That is a bit too off the wall for the very traditional Annalena, but if you are so inclined, go for it. That's what cooking is all about.
Getting there slowly: braised pork shoulder (for Mike and Brad)
Annalena can get from one point to another, albeit slowly. She did that last week in her run, and sometimes, that's how it works with her cooking. This is something that I finally got to, after thinking about it for well over a year. The inspiration, even a year later, is her friends Mike and Brad, and this is dedicated to them.
You'll hear the expression "food porn," used more and more frequently these days, as people send around pictures of their work in the kitchen, to friends who will appreciate it. Some time ago, Brad sent me a picture of a pork shoulder, that Mike had cooked in their apartment that weekend. Sure looked good. I make a pork shoulder cooked in milk, Italian style, but nothing the way Mike cooked his.
Coincidentally, I was leafing through one of my cookbooks, and found a recipe for a braised pork shoulder, from Chez Panisse. I read through it. It looked WAY too easy. It couldn't POSSIBLY be that easy.
It is. It really is. And it's a spectacular dish to make for this holiday season. Nice and rich. Easy. Did I say easy? REALLY easy. I made mine with wild boar shoulder, but you should just choose pork if that's what you have, boar if you have that. It can be bone in, or bone out. Mine was bone out.
The roast itself, without the bone, should be about 4 pounds of meat. With the bone, closer to 5.5 or even more. Whichever one you use, the night before, dry off the roast, and then season it. Season it well, with whatever you like on pork. The instructions that I had called for salt, chopped sage, and red pepper. All good. At the last minute , I saw fennel seeds.
Fennel and pork. Oh, yes. Absolutely. So, season the meat liberally and leave it in the fridge, uncovered , overnight.
Next day, preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Take the meat out of the fridge, and let it come to room temperature.
Now, the hard part. Put it in a cold oven proof pan, like a Le Creuset pot, and cover it. Put that in the oven, and go away, and read a book, or the papers, or something like that. And go away for a LONG time - like 2 hours, minimum.
Your house is going to begin to smell wonderful as the spices cook in the fat, which will render out of the meat. After two hours, turn the roast in the pan, and let it cook for at least another half hour. That's probably all you'll need for a boneless roast, you'll probably need more time for one on the bone.
You'll watch the meat carmelize and start to fall apart. Pork will take less time, boar more time. Test it with a fork and see: is it so tender that you can cut it with a fork, or close to? You're there. You'll have a nice, brown, tender mass of meat. Pull it out of the pan, and let the fat drip away. Now, slice it however you like.
I'm going to use ours to make a "tortilla al pastor, " with some shredded cabbage and a sauce of some kind, but there's enough meat here, to make several different meals.
Thanks to Mike and Brad for letting me know about the joys of pork shoulder. If you eat pork, this is a perfect dish for the holidays. Nice and rich, tasty, and SO easy.
If you make this, tell me what you do with the meat. And maybe substitute the meat itself. Lamb shoulder anyone?
You'll hear the expression "food porn," used more and more frequently these days, as people send around pictures of their work in the kitchen, to friends who will appreciate it. Some time ago, Brad sent me a picture of a pork shoulder, that Mike had cooked in their apartment that weekend. Sure looked good. I make a pork shoulder cooked in milk, Italian style, but nothing the way Mike cooked his.
Coincidentally, I was leafing through one of my cookbooks, and found a recipe for a braised pork shoulder, from Chez Panisse. I read through it. It looked WAY too easy. It couldn't POSSIBLY be that easy.
It is. It really is. And it's a spectacular dish to make for this holiday season. Nice and rich. Easy. Did I say easy? REALLY easy. I made mine with wild boar shoulder, but you should just choose pork if that's what you have, boar if you have that. It can be bone in, or bone out. Mine was bone out.
The roast itself, without the bone, should be about 4 pounds of meat. With the bone, closer to 5.5 or even more. Whichever one you use, the night before, dry off the roast, and then season it. Season it well, with whatever you like on pork. The instructions that I had called for salt, chopped sage, and red pepper. All good. At the last minute , I saw fennel seeds.
Fennel and pork. Oh, yes. Absolutely. So, season the meat liberally and leave it in the fridge, uncovered , overnight.
Next day, preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Take the meat out of the fridge, and let it come to room temperature.
Now, the hard part. Put it in a cold oven proof pan, like a Le Creuset pot, and cover it. Put that in the oven, and go away, and read a book, or the papers, or something like that. And go away for a LONG time - like 2 hours, minimum.
Your house is going to begin to smell wonderful as the spices cook in the fat, which will render out of the meat. After two hours, turn the roast in the pan, and let it cook for at least another half hour. That's probably all you'll need for a boneless roast, you'll probably need more time for one on the bone.
You'll watch the meat carmelize and start to fall apart. Pork will take less time, boar more time. Test it with a fork and see: is it so tender that you can cut it with a fork, or close to? You're there. You'll have a nice, brown, tender mass of meat. Pull it out of the pan, and let the fat drip away. Now, slice it however you like.
I'm going to use ours to make a "tortilla al pastor, " with some shredded cabbage and a sauce of some kind, but there's enough meat here, to make several different meals.
Thanks to Mike and Brad for letting me know about the joys of pork shoulder. If you eat pork, this is a perfect dish for the holidays. Nice and rich, tasty, and SO easy.
If you make this, tell me what you do with the meat. And maybe substitute the meat itself. Lamb shoulder anyone?
Old school spanokopita
There was a day when Annalena was a vegetarian, and an activist. In the 70s and 80s, they did seem to go hand in hand. If you were a political activist, you were a vegetarian as well. It may still be the case, I don't know. We have so many splits and definitions of what constitutes an activist.
Annalena went to more vegetarian potlucks than she can remember. And ate more bad food than she WANTS to remember. In the last post, I mentioned lentil loaf. How about tofu chili? or "neat balls," and so on and so forth. You all have your own vegetarian horror stories. Tell them here.
A good cook is always a popular guest at these events. And you should only know the various titles that Annalena picked up along the way, so that there was an excuse to invite her to the buffet. And sometimes, the hosts would be bold enough to ask "Can you make that spanokopita?" See, spanokopita is something I learned to make early one, and to make it very well. It's rich. And it's also easy. And very few people make it this rich any more. But you should. And since you WILL need party food this time of year...
You will need a pound of phyllo dough. Don't even think of trying to make it. If you live in a neighborhood where there is a brisk market in Greek and Middle Eastern groceries, ask the grocer what brand she or he recommends. Tell them what you're making. And follow their advice.
The package will have at least 20 sheets in it. This is something to keep in mind for later in this recipe.
You are also going to need either two pounds of fresh spinach, stems removed, or two packages of frozen spinach, thawed. Also a 16 ounce container of full fat cottage cheese, a pound of feta, six eggs, two sticks of butter, and a bunch of dill.
Either cook or thaw the spinach. Whichever way you go, squeeze out the water and chop it. Combine it with the cottage cheese, the feta (which you will have crumbled,), the six eggs, and the dill, chopped. Mix this all up, completely. Taste it and add salt if you like.
Put it aside as you prep the phyllo. First, preheat your oven to 375 and while that's happening, melt the butter in a pot. When it's all melted, get a baking sheet. Use a small brush, and paint the surface of the sheet. Put down a sheet of phyllo and butter that. Repeat this, ten times.
The phyllo will frustrate you if you let it. It bunches, it crumbles, it tears. So what? The layering will make that irrelevant, because every tear will be covered by phyllo on top of it.
When you've finished with ten, spread the filling you've mixed over it, in an even layer, and then repeat the process with the remaining sheets of phyllo. If you have any left over butter, pour it over the last sheet. Tuck the sheets together under the filling, and then score it: you know what I mean: cut vents all over it. Then put it in the oven and bake it for about 40 minutes.
The dough should crisp up and turn a beautiful brown. If it's not brown enough for you, run it under the broiler for a minute.
And you're done. This is a big pan of food, but everyone eats too much of it.
Did it seem difficult? I thought not. Make it, and you, too, may be the next star of your next separatist movement meeting
Annalena went to more vegetarian potlucks than she can remember. And ate more bad food than she WANTS to remember. In the last post, I mentioned lentil loaf. How about tofu chili? or "neat balls," and so on and so forth. You all have your own vegetarian horror stories. Tell them here.
A good cook is always a popular guest at these events. And you should only know the various titles that Annalena picked up along the way, so that there was an excuse to invite her to the buffet. And sometimes, the hosts would be bold enough to ask "Can you make that spanokopita?" See, spanokopita is something I learned to make early one, and to make it very well. It's rich. And it's also easy. And very few people make it this rich any more. But you should. And since you WILL need party food this time of year...
You will need a pound of phyllo dough. Don't even think of trying to make it. If you live in a neighborhood where there is a brisk market in Greek and Middle Eastern groceries, ask the grocer what brand she or he recommends. Tell them what you're making. And follow their advice.
The package will have at least 20 sheets in it. This is something to keep in mind for later in this recipe.
You are also going to need either two pounds of fresh spinach, stems removed, or two packages of frozen spinach, thawed. Also a 16 ounce container of full fat cottage cheese, a pound of feta, six eggs, two sticks of butter, and a bunch of dill.
Either cook or thaw the spinach. Whichever way you go, squeeze out the water and chop it. Combine it with the cottage cheese, the feta (which you will have crumbled,), the six eggs, and the dill, chopped. Mix this all up, completely. Taste it and add salt if you like.
Put it aside as you prep the phyllo. First, preheat your oven to 375 and while that's happening, melt the butter in a pot. When it's all melted, get a baking sheet. Use a small brush, and paint the surface of the sheet. Put down a sheet of phyllo and butter that. Repeat this, ten times.
The phyllo will frustrate you if you let it. It bunches, it crumbles, it tears. So what? The layering will make that irrelevant, because every tear will be covered by phyllo on top of it.
When you've finished with ten, spread the filling you've mixed over it, in an even layer, and then repeat the process with the remaining sheets of phyllo. If you have any left over butter, pour it over the last sheet. Tuck the sheets together under the filling, and then score it: you know what I mean: cut vents all over it. Then put it in the oven and bake it for about 40 minutes.
The dough should crisp up and turn a beautiful brown. If it's not brown enough for you, run it under the broiler for a minute.
And you're done. This is a big pan of food, but everyone eats too much of it.
Did it seem difficult? I thought not. Make it, and you, too, may be the next star of your next separatist movement meeting
"Temple Days" after Thanksgiving: curried Lentil soup
Ciao ragazzi. Guess who's back, sort of like a recurring infection? Yes, it is I, after a respite of several weeks. Much has happened, much of which I cannot speak of in this blog, at least not yet. Suffice it to say that , to quote Peter Allen (which I do not do enough of), there have been some "interesting changes in my life" as of late. They have taken up much time, and kept me from updating this blog. Thanksgiving is, of course, one of them. So, too, was Annalena's very first road "race." Yours truly laced up her shoes and ran a four mile race for one of the charities dear to her heart, "God's Love We Deliver." If you have some spare change, send it to them. If Annalena can run four miles for them, surely you can cough up a double sawbuck. Get to it!
Then, get to this "temple days" dish. Regular readers of this blog will know that I have stolen ruthlessly from Nigella Lawson with this title. "Temple Days" are for those days after wanton disregard of dietary principles, when everything must calm down again for a while with simpler, nourishing, healthier food. This soup fills the bill, and it's also quite inexpensive, and vegan.
All of this is good, because Annalena's next two blogs will easily qualify for reckless excess, involving, in one, half a pound of butter, and in the other mountains of pork.
But, first, let's rest a bit. Lentils. 'Fess up, you hate em. You ate them when you had to, but you remember far too many bowls of thick, pasty, brown, lentil soup.
I'm there with you. I sympathize, deeply. It took years for Annalena to escape from the memories of lentil soup of her childhood, which she had to eat frequently. For years, she believed that those brown ones ("lens culinaris," as they call them, and if you want to sound exceptionally intelligent) were the only ones out there, and she was resigned to them.
Then came Indian food. And dhals. With red lentils, and tiny yellow split peas which, strictly, aren't lentils, but are awfully close. Then the French green ones, and most surprising of all, brown ones, from Catellucio Italy, cooked beautifully. No more memories of thick soups that you could cut with a knife, or over baked, dry, "politcally correct" lentil loaves (we'll talk about politically correct food in a post to come). I do not cook lentils as often as I should, but after this dish, I may be inspired to do more with them.
It is difficult to ascribe a provenance to the dish. "Curry," of course, makes it sound Indian. It is not, since we're using French lentils in it. Originally, it called for olive oil which, as far as I know, is not known in Indian cooking. Originally, it called for chickpeas, which could put it anywhere. So, let's just call it "the best of all possible worlds." It, like the recipe to come, will be very useful when you go to that vegetarian pot luck or you just need a vegetarian dish. Let's cook.
Let's chop one onion, a couple of carrots, and a couple of stalks of celery. Try to get them as even as possible, i.e, all of the pieces of the vegetables should be the same size. Also chop up a clove or two of garlic, and have some curry powder ready.
Let's chat a minute about curry powders. First, if you have some on your shelf, but you don't remember when you used it last, throw it out. Go to a store that specializes in spices, and get a small quantity of one of the ones they sell. Ask. Curries come in various strengths and flavors. There are "sweet" curries, there are "hot" ones. There are curries designed for fish, for vegetables, for legumes, and so forth. Smell. This will be your best guide. You will need about two tablespoons (yup, tablespoons) of an average strength curry. If you have a strong one, as I did, you will need less. A milder one? You will want more. You can doctor this as you go along, so don't worry too much.
Heat up a tablespoon of vegetable oil in a heavy pot that will hold 2-3 quarts of stuff. When it's hot, add the vegetables, and sprinkle them with salt, and some pepper. Cook them for about three minutes, then add the garlic, and cook for another minute, and then the two tablespoons of curry.
The curry will pick up all of the oil, and you may think you've made a mistake. You haven't. Things will get sticky, and the curry will fry with the vegetables. Y ou want this. After a minute, add a quart of water, and a cup of French green lentils. Bring the pot to a boil, and when it comes to the boil, lower the heat, and simmer for about 30-40 minutes. I covered the pot, leaving a small area for "venting."
While this is cooking away, get a can (that's right, Annalena said "can") of beans of some kind. Chickpeas are standard. I did not have them, so I used favas. Drain the beans and wash them, and if you have a blender, put them in that with two chopped cloves of garlic, a quarter cup of water, 2 tablespoons of oil, and the juice of half a lemon. Puree this. If it gets too thick and gums up (it probably will), add some more water until it loosens up and you have a thick, but loose, puree. Pour this into the soup, and stir it all up, after the lentils have cooked for that 40 minutes or so. Taste. Adjust your seasonings, and add more curry, more salt, more pepper, whatever you like.
And you are done. This is a very tasty, very unusual soup which, as you can see, is not that expensive to make, not that rich, and overall, very good for you. Play with the vegetables, play with the curry, play with the bean variety, and make your own delicious soup. It will be good. I promise.
Then, get to this "temple days" dish. Regular readers of this blog will know that I have stolen ruthlessly from Nigella Lawson with this title. "Temple Days" are for those days after wanton disregard of dietary principles, when everything must calm down again for a while with simpler, nourishing, healthier food. This soup fills the bill, and it's also quite inexpensive, and vegan.
All of this is good, because Annalena's next two blogs will easily qualify for reckless excess, involving, in one, half a pound of butter, and in the other mountains of pork.
But, first, let's rest a bit. Lentils. 'Fess up, you hate em. You ate them when you had to, but you remember far too many bowls of thick, pasty, brown, lentil soup.
I'm there with you. I sympathize, deeply. It took years for Annalena to escape from the memories of lentil soup of her childhood, which she had to eat frequently. For years, she believed that those brown ones ("lens culinaris," as they call them, and if you want to sound exceptionally intelligent) were the only ones out there, and she was resigned to them.
Then came Indian food. And dhals. With red lentils, and tiny yellow split peas which, strictly, aren't lentils, but are awfully close. Then the French green ones, and most surprising of all, brown ones, from Catellucio Italy, cooked beautifully. No more memories of thick soups that you could cut with a knife, or over baked, dry, "politcally correct" lentil loaves (we'll talk about politically correct food in a post to come). I do not cook lentils as often as I should, but after this dish, I may be inspired to do more with them.
It is difficult to ascribe a provenance to the dish. "Curry," of course, makes it sound Indian. It is not, since we're using French lentils in it. Originally, it called for olive oil which, as far as I know, is not known in Indian cooking. Originally, it called for chickpeas, which could put it anywhere. So, let's just call it "the best of all possible worlds." It, like the recipe to come, will be very useful when you go to that vegetarian pot luck or you just need a vegetarian dish. Let's cook.
Let's chop one onion, a couple of carrots, and a couple of stalks of celery. Try to get them as even as possible, i.e, all of the pieces of the vegetables should be the same size. Also chop up a clove or two of garlic, and have some curry powder ready.
Let's chat a minute about curry powders. First, if you have some on your shelf, but you don't remember when you used it last, throw it out. Go to a store that specializes in spices, and get a small quantity of one of the ones they sell. Ask. Curries come in various strengths and flavors. There are "sweet" curries, there are "hot" ones. There are curries designed for fish, for vegetables, for legumes, and so forth. Smell. This will be your best guide. You will need about two tablespoons (yup, tablespoons) of an average strength curry. If you have a strong one, as I did, you will need less. A milder one? You will want more. You can doctor this as you go along, so don't worry too much.
Heat up a tablespoon of vegetable oil in a heavy pot that will hold 2-3 quarts of stuff. When it's hot, add the vegetables, and sprinkle them with salt, and some pepper. Cook them for about three minutes, then add the garlic, and cook for another minute, and then the two tablespoons of curry.
The curry will pick up all of the oil, and you may think you've made a mistake. You haven't. Things will get sticky, and the curry will fry with the vegetables. Y ou want this. After a minute, add a quart of water, and a cup of French green lentils. Bring the pot to a boil, and when it comes to the boil, lower the heat, and simmer for about 30-40 minutes. I covered the pot, leaving a small area for "venting."
While this is cooking away, get a can (that's right, Annalena said "can") of beans of some kind. Chickpeas are standard. I did not have them, so I used favas. Drain the beans and wash them, and if you have a blender, put them in that with two chopped cloves of garlic, a quarter cup of water, 2 tablespoons of oil, and the juice of half a lemon. Puree this. If it gets too thick and gums up (it probably will), add some more water until it loosens up and you have a thick, but loose, puree. Pour this into the soup, and stir it all up, after the lentils have cooked for that 40 minutes or so. Taste. Adjust your seasonings, and add more curry, more salt, more pepper, whatever you like.
And you are done. This is a very tasty, very unusual soup which, as you can see, is not that expensive to make, not that rich, and overall, very good for you. Play with the vegetables, play with the curry, play with the bean variety, and make your own delicious soup. It will be good. I promise.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
It's late autumn, so: quinces: in upside down cake
Y'all know of my love affair with quinces: "the difficult fruit." Yes, they are. As I've written, you bite one of these once and you never will again. If you have any teeth left. But they're sort of like our cats: give them love, and time and care, and maybe they'll come around to you . Quinces do. Our cats, well....
The recipe that follows is, as are many of Annalena's recipes, the result of a roundabout series of events. A couple of weeks ago, at dinner at "I trulli," and full to the gills, not wanting dessert, Christina, the world's best restaurant manager, maybe, brought out a dessert not on the menu. It was a quince cake, with spice ice cream. There was no way I could not. So I did. And I was jealous , as I always am, of Patti (Ms Jackson if you're nasty)'s cooking.
There is no way I can replicate Patti's dishes, but I can try. I made this one, last week, in feeding my Wolfpack. It combines recipes from two of the Chez Panisse cookbooks, and boy, is it good. Now, I will tell you that, after having made this dessert, I saw Patti at the farmers market yesterday, and told her how I had made the quinces. She smiled and said "next time, put a shit load of spices in the poaching liquid. You'll be glad you did."
Yes ma'am. Patti was buying wild cardoons to bring back to the restaurant to "fool around with," and I can't wait. We're going to go and see her sometime soon, and I hope they're still there.
In the meanwhile, let's go through this recipe. It's going to take a while to make, but a few thoughts on this. First of all, it's worth it. Second of all, you can make the quinces as far in advance as you like. Since it's another one of those "sit and read a book while they cook" recipes, I think you should make them some lazy afternoon. I may make them later today. Here's how you poach them. Get about two pounds of quinces. This will be 4-6 of them. Get ripe, fragrant ones. Ripe for quinces means yellow. Fragrant means just that. They will smell tropical, almost like a mango or pineapple. Most sources tell you to quarter, and then peel the quinces. I find it easier to peel them whole. Whatever works for you, do it. But then quarter them, and cut out their cores. This takes a bit of elbow grease, but you need to do it. The center is nasty, and quinces have a lot of seeds. When you're done with this, slice the quinces about 1/4 to 1/3 inch thick, and put them in a pot with six cups of water, 2 cups of sugar, a half a vanilla bean, half a lemon and, if you are so inclined "a shitload of spices." Bring this to a boil, then lower the heat. Crunch up some parchment paper, and cover the quinces with it, and then cover the pot. Cook slowly, until the guys are tender. This will take 45 minutes to an hour. Let them cool in the pot, and then strain them. DON'T THROW OUT THAT LIQUID. Put the quinces into glass jars. I needed two, quart jars, and cover them with the syrup. Strain out any extraneous seeds. You'll have a pale pink product here. Let them refrigerate if you're not using them right away.
Incidentally, you CAN use these right away. They are marvelous on a cheese plate, or served with apples, for example.
When you are ready to make the upside down cake: make two. Here's the recipe for two, but half it if you really must. Drain the liquid from one jar of your quinces. Put it in a large skillet, with two tabelspoons of butter. Bring this to a simmer, let the butter melt, and keep your eye on the liquid as it browns and reduces. You're making quince caramel, and it's good. When it goes down to about half the volume, or when it's thick and syrupy, pour half of it into each of two, 9 inch cake pans. Swirl it around to cover them. Then, put a little butter on the sides. Now, lay out the slices of quince to cover the bottom of the pan, right on the caramel. Be generous. The fruit is going to shrink.
Here's the batter, for two cakes. Combine two sticks of soft, unsalted butter with 2 cups of sugar and a tablespoon of vanilla extract. Cream all of this in an electric mixer, until the butter is almost white. Add four large egg yolks, one at a time. You may want to lower the speed of your mixer for this. I recommend it.
While the mixing is happening, put 3 cups of flour and a tablespoon and a teaspoon of baking powder in a bowl, with a half teaspoon of salt. Also, get a cup of milk, or buttermilk, or yogurt or some dairy element ready. At low speed, alternate the dry ingredients with the dairy, ending with the dairy. Doesn't really matter how many "turns" you take on this, as long as you do the alternating.
In a separate bowl, get the 4 egg whites from the eggs you got the yolks, and bring them to a firm peak with the appropriate attachment for your mixer. Fold those eggwhites into the cake batter, turning the bowl and mixing as you go.
Spoon the batter over the quinces, even it out, and bake for a good 45 minutes in a preheated, 350 oven.
Now, here's the fun part. Let those cakes cool for fifteen minutes, but not too much longer. There's so much sugar in the cake, that if it gets too cool, you won't be able to release the cake, and you'll have to heat the whole thing again and say a prayer.
Put your serving plate over the cake pan. Protect your hands, invert the thing and shake FIRMLY. The cake should pop out. If it doesn't, put the cake pan on a low flame for a minute or two to get the sugar to melt again. That should do it.
Sometimes fruit sticks in the pan. No problem there. Just reappoint it on the cake.
The baking process will intensify the pink of the quinces, and your guests will be hard pressed to tell you exactly what they are eating. But they will come back for seconds, maybe even thirds. That's why you do two of them.
Oh, and the leftover syrup? Well, if you're adventurous, you can cook it down to jelly. But if not, just pour some of it into wine, or champagne, or soda, as you see fit, and have an interesting, autumnal/winter sip.
Quinces. They're worth the time. Unlike some cats, and some men...
The recipe that follows is, as are many of Annalena's recipes, the result of a roundabout series of events. A couple of weeks ago, at dinner at "I trulli," and full to the gills, not wanting dessert, Christina, the world's best restaurant manager, maybe, brought out a dessert not on the menu. It was a quince cake, with spice ice cream. There was no way I could not. So I did. And I was jealous , as I always am, of Patti (Ms Jackson if you're nasty)'s cooking.
There is no way I can replicate Patti's dishes, but I can try. I made this one, last week, in feeding my Wolfpack. It combines recipes from two of the Chez Panisse cookbooks, and boy, is it good. Now, I will tell you that, after having made this dessert, I saw Patti at the farmers market yesterday, and told her how I had made the quinces. She smiled and said "next time, put a shit load of spices in the poaching liquid. You'll be glad you did."
Yes ma'am. Patti was buying wild cardoons to bring back to the restaurant to "fool around with," and I can't wait. We're going to go and see her sometime soon, and I hope they're still there.
In the meanwhile, let's go through this recipe. It's going to take a while to make, but a few thoughts on this. First of all, it's worth it. Second of all, you can make the quinces as far in advance as you like. Since it's another one of those "sit and read a book while they cook" recipes, I think you should make them some lazy afternoon. I may make them later today. Here's how you poach them. Get about two pounds of quinces. This will be 4-6 of them. Get ripe, fragrant ones. Ripe for quinces means yellow. Fragrant means just that. They will smell tropical, almost like a mango or pineapple. Most sources tell you to quarter, and then peel the quinces. I find it easier to peel them whole. Whatever works for you, do it. But then quarter them, and cut out their cores. This takes a bit of elbow grease, but you need to do it. The center is nasty, and quinces have a lot of seeds. When you're done with this, slice the quinces about 1/4 to 1/3 inch thick, and put them in a pot with six cups of water, 2 cups of sugar, a half a vanilla bean, half a lemon and, if you are so inclined "a shitload of spices." Bring this to a boil, then lower the heat. Crunch up some parchment paper, and cover the quinces with it, and then cover the pot. Cook slowly, until the guys are tender. This will take 45 minutes to an hour. Let them cool in the pot, and then strain them. DON'T THROW OUT THAT LIQUID. Put the quinces into glass jars. I needed two, quart jars, and cover them with the syrup. Strain out any extraneous seeds. You'll have a pale pink product here. Let them refrigerate if you're not using them right away.
Incidentally, you CAN use these right away. They are marvelous on a cheese plate, or served with apples, for example.
When you are ready to make the upside down cake: make two. Here's the recipe for two, but half it if you really must. Drain the liquid from one jar of your quinces. Put it in a large skillet, with two tabelspoons of butter. Bring this to a simmer, let the butter melt, and keep your eye on the liquid as it browns and reduces. You're making quince caramel, and it's good. When it goes down to about half the volume, or when it's thick and syrupy, pour half of it into each of two, 9 inch cake pans. Swirl it around to cover them. Then, put a little butter on the sides. Now, lay out the slices of quince to cover the bottom of the pan, right on the caramel. Be generous. The fruit is going to shrink.
Here's the batter, for two cakes. Combine two sticks of soft, unsalted butter with 2 cups of sugar and a tablespoon of vanilla extract. Cream all of this in an electric mixer, until the butter is almost white. Add four large egg yolks, one at a time. You may want to lower the speed of your mixer for this. I recommend it.
While the mixing is happening, put 3 cups of flour and a tablespoon and a teaspoon of baking powder in a bowl, with a half teaspoon of salt. Also, get a cup of milk, or buttermilk, or yogurt or some dairy element ready. At low speed, alternate the dry ingredients with the dairy, ending with the dairy. Doesn't really matter how many "turns" you take on this, as long as you do the alternating.
In a separate bowl, get the 4 egg whites from the eggs you got the yolks, and bring them to a firm peak with the appropriate attachment for your mixer. Fold those eggwhites into the cake batter, turning the bowl and mixing as you go.
Spoon the batter over the quinces, even it out, and bake for a good 45 minutes in a preheated, 350 oven.
Now, here's the fun part. Let those cakes cool for fifteen minutes, but not too much longer. There's so much sugar in the cake, that if it gets too cool, you won't be able to release the cake, and you'll have to heat the whole thing again and say a prayer.
Put your serving plate over the cake pan. Protect your hands, invert the thing and shake FIRMLY. The cake should pop out. If it doesn't, put the cake pan on a low flame for a minute or two to get the sugar to melt again. That should do it.
Sometimes fruit sticks in the pan. No problem there. Just reappoint it on the cake.
The baking process will intensify the pink of the quinces, and your guests will be hard pressed to tell you exactly what they are eating. But they will come back for seconds, maybe even thirds. That's why you do two of them.
Oh, and the leftover syrup? Well, if you're adventurous, you can cook it down to jelly. But if not, just pour some of it into wine, or champagne, or soda, as you see fit, and have an interesting, autumnal/winter sip.
Quinces. They're worth the time. Unlike some cats, and some men...
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