A Cooking Life

Quinoa Salad with Golden Beets & Avocado

2012-03-04T15:07:00.003-06:00

I recently purchased a copy of Yotam Ottolenghi's new vegetable cookbook Plenty. I have occasionally picked it up to glance through it, but I really hadn't had time to examine it carefully until last week. What a pleasure it was to look through! Like his first book Ottolenghi: The Cookbook (co-authored with Sami Tamimi), Plenty is filled with page after page of recipes and photographs of the beautiful, exuberant and inspiring food served at the restaurant Ottolenghi in London.

I am particularly attracted to the interesting and inventive ways Ottolenghi uses grains in salads and pilafs, and when I turned to the chapter on grains I was immediately drawn in. On the first page was a colorful salad of quinoa and avocado, bursting with fava beans, radishes and purple radish cress. I really wanted to make that salad. Unfortunately I rarely have access to large quantities of fava beans...and in any case, they aren't in season yet. But avocados are in season, and I just happened to have a large bag of them sitting on the counter. I immediately began to think about how I might make a quinoa and avocado salad with other things that are in season.

As I pondered the possibilities, beets immediately came to mind—gold ones, since red would dye the salad pink. I could of course have used red and made a layered salad, but I liked the idea of tossing everything together.

Avocado has an affinity for all kinds of citrus. The original salad used 2 whole lemons—peeled, segmented and juiced. I love this idea, but since beets are good with orange, I thought I would use oranges instead. This would give me the chunks of citrus (albeit, in a much milder form), and would repeat the golden color of the beets.

At this point, the rest of the salad fell into place. Shaved fennel is wonderful with both beets and orange. It adds sweetness and a needed crunchy element. Arugula adds freshness and a mild bite and olives provide some salty interest. To pull the salad together I added lemon juice, garlic and olive oil for balance, flavor and moisture.

My avocado and quinoa salad turned out to be astonishingly satisfying. It practically danced with flavor and texture. And the combination of the buttery avocado with the nutty quinoa was a revelation—I'm not sure I would have ever thought to put these two ingredients together. We enjoyed the salad for dinner one night and I had the leftovers for lunch the next day.

I was surprised at how well it held up. It would definitely make a good salad to pack in a lunch and it would be beautiful mounded on a large platter on a buffet.

The salad also turned out to be a perfect meal for an unexpectedly warm day. The thermometer hit 70° that day (on March 1!) and I picked the first of our daffodils (the earliest I ever remember having them).

I'm not saying that the salad wouldn't have tasted good if it had been cold and wet...but it wouldn't have been nearly as appropriate. Since the weather in Kansas City is highly variable in February and March—cold and icy one day, warm and windy the next—I'm sure this bright and hearty salad of winter ingredients...in one form or another....will show up again and again on my late winter table.

Quinoa Salad with Golden Beets & Avocado

4 medium-sized Golden Beets (about 2- to 2 1/2-inches in diameter), trimmed
Sherry vinegar, to taste
1 1/4 c. water
1 c. Quinoa, rinsed and drained
2 large oranges (I used Cara Cara)
2 T. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 clove garlic, peeled and smashed to a purée with a pinch of salt
2 medium Avocados
1 medium head fennel, trimmed, halved and cored
2 large handfuls Arugula (about 2 oz.)
1/2 c. pitted Kalamata olive, halved lengthwise
1/3 c. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Scrub beets and place in a shallow baking dish. Add a quarter inch of water, cover tightly with foil and transfer to a 375° oven. Roast until tender to the tip of a knife—this will be anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and fifteen minutes, depending on the beets. Uncover the beets and let cool. When cool enough to handle, trim the stem and root away. Rub the skin off using a paper towel. Cut the beets into 8 wedges and place in a small bowl. Taste. If the beets aren't very sweet, drizzle a little Sherry vinegar over them...this will accentuate their sweetness. (When I made this salad I added a teaspoon or two of Sherry vinegar). Season with salt and pepper. Set aside. (See notes.)

In a small saucepan with a tight fitting lid, bring the water to a boil over high heat. Add the quinoa along with a pinch of salt. Return to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover and cook until tender—12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Spread the cooked quinoa out on a baking sheet to cool.

Zest one of the oranges and place the zest in a large bowl. Cut the stem and blossom ends from the oranges. Working with one orange at a time, place the fruit cut side down on the cutting board and following the contour of the fruit with your knife, remove the peel and cottony pith—working from top to bottom, and rotating the fruit as you go. When both oranges are all peeled, hold them one at a time over the bowl (to catch the juices), and carefully slice between the membranes and the fruit to release the segments. When all of the segments have been released, squeeze the membrane to release the juices into the work bowl. Repeat with the second orange.

Add the lemon juice and the garlic to the orange segments and juice. Halve the avocados and remove the pit. Scoop each avocado half out of its peel in one piece (use a large spoon). Place each half face down on the counter and cut cross-wise into 1/3-inch thick slices. Transfer all of the avocado slices to the bowl with the citrus and toss so the avocado slices are dressed with the citrus juice. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Using a mandoline, thinly shave the fennel halves cross-wise. If the arugula leaves are very large, run your knife through them a couple of times to create pieces that are more bite-sized. Place the beets, cooled quinoa, shaved fennel, arugula and olives in the bowl.

Drizzle the olive oil over all and season with salt & pepper. Gently toss the contents of the bowl, being careful not to break up the avocado. Taste and correct the seasoning with lemon juice, sherry vinegar, salt & pepper and olive oil—the salad should taste lively and bright. Serves 6.

Notes:
• If you like, dress more arugula with a squeeze of lemon, a drizzle of olive oil and salt & pepper. Serve the salad on a bed of the dressed arugula.
• The beets can be made ahead and refrigerated. If the beets are already roasted, this salad can be made from start to finish in about half an hour.
• Please taste and carefully adjust the lemon and sherry vinegar in this salad. The amounts needed will vary greatly depending on the variety and sweetness of the oranges and beets that you choose to use.

English Gingerbread for an American Kitchen

2012-03-01T20:50:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite recipes for gingerbread is English cookbook author Delia Smith's "Damp Gingerbread". I first discovered this recipe in Laurie Colwin's essay—More About Gingerbread—published in the January 1993 issue of Gourmet Magazine. You can also find it in Colwin's wonderful little book, More Home Cooking: A Writer Returns to the Kitchen. Colwin description of this gingerbread—"moist and velvety"—would probably have been enough to get me to try it. But the fact that the recipe was of British origin really tipped the scales in its favor. When I found the recipe I had only recently returned from cooking school in London and was missing many of the foods that I had discovered there. I have made this cake many times since. Even though I will never stop collecting recipes for gingerbread (I love gingerbread), this one is especially nice—simple, spicy, "moist and velvety."

Recently I was struck by the desire to make the recipe for "Damp Gingerbread" a little more user friendly for American cooks. One of the things that makes this recipe particularly British is that it uses Lyle's Golden Syrup. Golden syrup is a British product—a syrup produced during the sugar refining process. It is sometimes called "refiner's syrup". To my knowledge, there really isn't an American equivalent.

Molasses—also produced during the refining process—is what Americans typically use in gingerbread. Less sweet than golden syrup, molasses is also much darker and has a slightly bitter edge to it. American gingerbread recipes are tailored to work with the characteristics of molasses....not refiner's syrup. In order to make this version of gingerbread, you really do need Lyle's syrup.

Finding the syrup is not too big of a hardship—it is widely available in the states. The problem arises from the fact that it is expensive and the original recipe requires just a bit more than one jar. If you want to make this cake, you have to purchase two jars...and then you will have a lot left...but not enough to make another cake... There are of course other things to do with golden syrup—most Americans just aren't in the habit of doing these things. Altering the recipe to use exactly one jar of Lyle's Golden syrup seemed like a good way to make this recipe more appealing to American bakers.

After several trials, I did finally come up with a recipe that uses one jar and has the taste and texture that I was aiming for. However, I find that I am unable to explain why my recipe works. Gingerbread, as it turns out, is a deceptively simple cake. This particular one is astonishingly easy to make (using something Irish Cookbook author Darina Allen calls the "molten method"—a simple two step operation of mixing melted fat and sugar syrup with the dry ingredients, followed by the egg and dairy), but understanding what is going on in the realm of chemistry is beyond me. I found that the right flavor is dependant not only on the sugar syrup (or molasses) and spices, but also on the interaction of the leavener with the (acidic) syrup/molasses. The unfortunate reality is that many recipes for gingerbread produce very tasty cakes that sink in the middle. (If you take a random look at blog posts on gingerbread you will frequently find statements to this effect: "Tasted great....sank in the middle.") Typically a sunken center is a sign of over-leavening. Adjusting the leavener to prevent this produces a cake with a slightly dryer texture and a flavor that is disappointingly mild—which I find to be unacceptable.

If you make the gingerbread recipe as printed below, it will produce a "moist and velvety" cake with the intense flavor that you expect from gingerbread. It is also possible that it will dip just slightly in the center. Since in the process of testing the recipe I produced several cakes that had what I could only call craters in the center, I consider this a victory. If you make the cake...and it does sink a bit...it isn't the end of the world. This is such a homey sort of cake, it is unlikely that you would ever present it at the table as a whole cake. Certainly anyone enjoying the slices you give them would never know that there was a slight dip in the center. You could also cover the cake with a nice frosting of some kind—in which case the cake could be made to appear level. As a bonus, the recipient of the center square would get a bit more frosting than everyone else. I can assure you that I would be more than happy to take that piece.

English Gingerbread Cake

1 stick (4 oz.) unsalted butter

1 jar (11 fl.oz./1 1/3 cup) Lyle's Golden Syrup

2 c. (230 g.) all-purpose flour

1/2 t. salt

1 t. baking soda

1 T. ground ginger

1 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. cloves

1 egg

1 egg yolk

3/4 c. (180 g.) buttermilk

Butter a 9-inch square baking pan, line with parchment, butter the parchment and then flour the pan. Set aside.

Melt the butter with the golden syrup in a medium saucepan and set over moderate heat.

In a small bowl, whisk the egg and yolk together. Whisk in the buttermilk. Set aside.

Place the dry ingredients in a large bowl and whisk to combine; make a "well" in the center. Pour the hot butter/syrup mixture into the "well".

Whisk the dry ingredients into the syrup mixture, moving from the center out, until the batter is smooth and well-blended. Switch to a rubber spatula and stir the egg/buttermilk mixture into the batter until thoroughly combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan.

Transfer to a 350° oven and bake until the cake has just begun to pull away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean—about 40 to 45 minutes. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 to 15 minutes.

Run a knife around the outside of the pan and turn out onto a wire rack. Cool the cake, right side up, on a wire rack. Serves 9 to 12.

Moroccan Sweet Potato Salad with Green Olives

2012-02-25T08:59:00.003-06:00

I will apologize right off the bat for not having any "in process" pictures of the recipe I'm posting today. The truth is, I wasn't planning on posting it. The recipe is for Moroccan Sweet Potato Salad from Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food and I was making it in preparation for an upcoming class. I have changed it very little, so there didn't seem to be too much point in posting it. Then, when I tasted it, it was so good.....I wanted to share.

I served it alongside some roast chicken, buttered green beans and couscous with pine nuts and currants. It was delicious. I think the salty, sweet and lemony flavors would make it a great accompaniment to many kinds of foods. I also think it would make an excellent tapa...or, as I discovered, a tasty appetizer. While the roasted sweet potatoes were marinating in their spicy, lemony dressing, I found that I could hardly keep my fingers out of them...nibbling away as I prepared the rest of the meal.

As it turns out, this is how salads like this are often served (in a much more purposeful way, of course...) in Morocco. Claudia Roden writes in her book Arabesque (in which she publishes a similar salad) that vegetable salads featuring ginger, cumin, paprika and lemon are frequently served as a starter. Typically they are then left on the table to be enjoyed with the main course...which is of course, just what I did. But I have to say, if you plan on following suit...and you are serving more than 2 or 3 people...you will need to make a bigger batch.

Moroccan Sweet Potato Salad

1 to 1 1/4 lbs. orange-fleshed Sweet Potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
Olive oil
Salt
1 small onion (4 to 5 oz.), finely diced
1/2 t. grated fresh ginger root
a pinch of saffron threads
1/4 t. ground cumin
1/2 t. paprika
Zest of half a lemon
6 or 7 coarsely chopped green olives (I used Picholine)
2 T. chopped cilantro
1 T. chopped Italian flat leaf parsley
1 to 2 T. freshly squeezed lemon juice

Place the sweet potatoes in a bowl, season with salt and toss with enough olive oil to lightly coat. Spread in a baking dish and roast in a 375° oven until tender—about 45 to 50 minutes. When done, remove from the oven and let cool slightly.

Meanwhile, warm a tablespoon or so of olive oil in a small sauté pan. Add the onion along with a pinch of salt and sweat until soft, tender and straw yellow in color—the edges may be beginning to lightly caramelize. Add the ginger, saffron, cumin and paprika and continue to cook for a minute or two. Set aside to cool briefly.

Transfer the onions to a bowl and add a tablespoon of olive oil, the lemon zest, olives, herbs and a tablespoon of lemon juice. If the mixture seems tight, add another tablespoon of olive oil. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and lemon juice.

Spoon the marinade over the lukewarm sweet potatoes and let sit for 30 minutes, gently folding now and then. Taste and add more salt and or lemon juice as needed. Serve at room temperature. Serves 4.

Note: A bit of chopped preserved lemon would be an excellent addition to the marinade.

(Recipe adapted from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters)

Jam Filled Sugar Cookies and an Italian-style Jam Tart

2012-02-19T14:03:00.001-06:00

Next month I am teaching a class called Home-Style Desserts. I always try to include five different recipes in my classes, but for this one I had only settled on four when it was time to go to print. So between the print deadline and the class, I needed to come up with a fifth recipe. I had it in my mind that I wanted to do an old fashioned jam-filled sugar cookie...not one where the sugar cookies are baked and then sandwiched together with jam, but one where the sandwiching is done before the cookies are baked. When I was a kid these kinds of cookies were filled with mincemeat at Christmas time. I didn't have such a cookie recipe in my repertoire, so I didn't want to promise to teach it.

While searching on-line, I ran across an Easy Jam Tart posted by David Lebovitz. Because jam tarts are a beloved European home-style dessert....a perfect fit for my upcoming class...I stopped to look more closely at his recipe. Typically, a jam tart is made with a pâte sablé crust (a cookie-like dough of butter, sugar, egg yolks and flour). As I looked at this Easy Jam Tart ("easy" because it had a "press in"-style crust) I noticed that the dough was a bit different from what I was used to. It used a whole egg instead of just the yolks and it included baking powder. Because I can't help myself I began to wonder why this would be, how it would affect the final outcome, etc. As I pondered all of this, it dawned on me that the dough was very similar to my favorite American-style rolled sugar cookie dough....and that this particular jam tart dough might be the perfect dough for making the jam-filled sugar cookies of my imaginings.

So, today's post is a two-for-one of sorts. I'm posting the one (very adaptable) dough...and with it, the two forms it has taken in my kitchen so far. First as the crust of a tender jam tart and second as the sugar cookie portion of my jam-filled sugar cookies. I have been unable to decide which incarnation I like best.

I adapted the dough slightly from the one I found at David Lebovitz's site. To make it closer to the sugar cookie I was already familiar with I reduced the baking powder and increased the sugar (just slightly). The site from which Lebovitz adapted the recipe used all flour in the dough. He altered the dough to incorporate cornmeal. I think this is an excellent idea—I love fruit with cornmeal based doughs and batters (see my Rhubarb Cake with Cornmeal). But for some reason I didn't want cornmeal in these particular cookies. Instead, I decided to substitute almond meal for a quarter of the flour. Almond is great paired with fruit and I thought that, like the cornmeal, the almond meal would make the cookies a bit more tender (since neither of these will contribute gluten). I loved the cookies with the almond...and I think I would really like the tart with the cornmeal. But you should feel free to use all flour if cornmeal or almond doesn't appeal to you. Whatever you use, all flour, part cornmeal or part almond meal, just make sure the total weight of the "flours" is 250 grams. Because the cookies need gluten to hold together, and because they don't really seem like sugar cookies to me if they aren't made with mostly wheat flour, when substituting I wouldn't use more than 25 to 30% of one of these alternate "flours".

When you make the jam tart for the first time, the amount of jam you need to use will have to be taken on faith. You really don't need much more than a cup. When you put the jam in the tart shell you will be certain it isn't enough. I know this because that's what I thought. And since David Lebovitz had used 1 3/4 cup jam, I thought I would follow suit. The results were a bit gooey. The bottom crust was not fully cooked and the jam overwhelmed the cookie portion of the tart. To quote one of my taste testers: eating it was a bit like eating jam out of the jar with a spoon. This was not the effect I was going for....

The dough itself is extremely easy to work with. You can of course press it into the tart pan (break it into pieces first...or grate it), but I found it faster, neater and easier to just roll out a generous half of the dough into a 3/16-inch thick round and transfer it to the pan. If it tears, it is easily patched. The remaining dough can then be rolled out 1/8-inch thick and cut into decorative shapes (for Valentine's day I used a heart cutter) to be laid over the tart in slightly overlapping concentric circles. It can also be cut into strips and used to make a lattice top.

For the jam-filled cookies, start with a third of the dough and roll it out 1/8-inch thick. Cut with a fluted 2 1/2-inch cutter and use a half-inch round cutter (I didn't have one this size, so I used a half-inch round piping tip) to cut a hole in the center of half of the cookies. Gather the scraps and combine them with a third of the remaining unused dough. Roll this piece of dough out as before—cutting rounds and holes and gathering the scraps. Combine these scraps with half of the remaining fresh dough and repeat. Repeat one more time with the last chunk of fresh dough. Combining the scraps of rolled dough with the fresh dough will make it so you get the maximum number of cookies out of the dough without having to make any of the cookies from all scrap dough (which can make for tough cookies). Using this method, and using a 2 1/2-inch cutter, I was able to cut 48 rounds to make 2 dozen filled cookies.

There is something nostalgic about the combination of jam and sugar cookies. I think this is probably what Kellogg had in mind when they came up with the Pop-Tart. (They of course fell woefully short of the ideal—sweet, fruity jam encased in tender, buttery dough.) I suppose a wedge of the tart...or a cookie or two...could be eaten for breakfast, but I think a much better idea is to tuck a cookie into your child's lunchbox...or maybe into your briefcase or bag to pull out and enjoy with your coffee break. David Lebovitz points out that the tart would be perfect for packing in a picnic basket. I agree. Even though the crust is tender, the slices are sturdy enough to be picked up and eaten out of hand. And of course, either the tart or the cookies would make a fine, light, home-style dessert. I think I have my fifth recipe.

Jam Tart

185 g. (1 1/2 c. plus 2 T.) all-purpose flour
65 g. (1/2 c. plus 2 T.) almond meal (see note)
1/4 t. salt
1 t. baking powder
125 g. (9 T.) unsalted butter, room temperature
125 g. (1/2 c. plus 2 T.) sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1/2 t. almond extract (or 1 t. vanilla)
310 to 350 g. (1c. to 1 c. plus 2 T.) favorite fruit jam or preserves
1 egg white, beaten until foamy
Turbinado Sugar for sprinkling

Place the first four ingredients in a bowl and whisk until uniformly combined. Set aside.

Briefly cream the butter and sugar. Beat in the egg and then the yolk, followed by the almond (or vanilla) extract. Add the dry ingredients and mix until the dough forms clumps. Transfer to a sheet of plastic wrap and press into a thick rectangle or round. Chill until firm (overnight if you have time).

Butter a 9-inch removable bottom tart pan. On a lightly floured surface, roll out a generous half of the dough (about 300 grams) into a round that is about 3/16-inch thick. Ease the dough into the pan being careful not to stretch it and pressing it against the sides of the tart pan. Use your palms to gently cut the dough flush with the upper rim of the tart pan. Chill until firm (about 30 minutes).

Roll the remaining dough out to a thickness of 1/8-inch. Cut into strips (for a lattice) or rounds (or another decorative shape)—a cutter in the 1 1/2- to 2-inch range works well. Chill briefly.

To bake the tart, spread the jam in the chilled shell. The jam will only form a layer that is about a quarter of an inch deep. This is as it should be...do not add more jam. Brush the lattice strips or the cookie cut-outs with the egg whites and arrange over the tart—either in a lattice pattern or barely overlapping concentric circles for the shapes. (The strips or shapes do need to be pressed onto the rim of the tart. As long as they are touching the sides, the tart will bake just fine.) Generously scatter some Turbinado sugar over the surface of the tart.

Place the tart on the lowest rack of a 350° oven. Bake until golden brown—about 30 to 40 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Wait at least 30 minutes before serving. The tart can be served warm or room temperature and keeps (well-wrapped) for several days.

Note: If you prefer, replace the almond meal with all-purpose flour. You will then have a total weight of 250 grams of flour (about 2 1/4 cups). You could also replace the almond meal with an equal weight of cornmeal.

Jam-Filled Sugar Cookies

1 recipe of dough for Jam Tart, chilled
3/4 cup favorite fruit jam or preserves (about 235 g.)
1 egg white, beaten until foamy
Turbinado Sugar for sprinkling

On a lightly floured surface roll out a third of the dough (keeping the remaining two-thirds chilled) to a thickness of 1/8-inch. Using a 2 1/2-inch round fluted cutter, cut out as many rounds as you can. Using a 1/2-inch smooth round cutter, cut holes out of the center of half of the fluted rounds. Transfer to a cookie sheet and chill while you roll out the remaining dough.

Gather the scraps of dough. Take a third of the remaining chilled dough and combine it with the scraps. Roll out as before, cutting fluted rounds (half with holes). Transfer the cutouts to the sheet with the other rounds and chill. Gather the scraps again and combine with half of the remaining fresh dough, rolling out and cutting as before. Repeat one more time with the scraps and last chunk of fresh dough. You should have 48 fluted rounds—half with a hole cut out of the center.

Spread 12 of the solid rounds on a parchment-lined baking sheet and brush with egg white—concentrating on the edges (the egg white is to help seal the cookies together). Place a level half tablespoonful of jam in the center of each round. Top each cookie with one of the rounds with a hole in the center—aligning the fluted edges as closely as possible and pressing lightly on the edges to seal. It is not necessary to press hard—this dough adheres remarkably well.

Brush the cookies with more egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake in the center of a preheated 400° oven until golden and cooked on the bottom—about 10 to 12 minutes. Rotate the tray half way through the cooking time. Transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool.

Makes 2 dozen jam-filled cookies.

Baked Pasta with Tomato Sauce, Italian Sausage, & Ricotta

2012-02-14T10:24:00.001-06:00

The inspiration for the recipe I'm posting today came from a "speedy" baked pasta that caught my eye in the current issue of Food & Wine. There isn't anything terribly unusual about the recipe, but it is just the kind of thing I like to eat. A baked pasta in a classic Italian-American style, it is a simple and appealing combination of pasta, tomato sauce, browned ground beef, ricotta and mozzarella. As I glanced over the ingredient list, it occurred to me that by using some of the tomato sauce in my freezer (made at the height of tomato season last summer) that I could make this into an even easier dish.

As it turned out, I had all the necessary ingredients on hand for this pasta. Not only did I have homemade sauce, I had Italian sausage in my freezer—which I think is a much better choice than the ground beef any way. I always keep a variety of pasta shapes and as luck would have it, I also had Ricotta, Fontina (preferable to Mozzarella, in my opinion) and Parmesan. I share this information not to brag about the contents of my pantry, but rather to point out the benefits of maintaining a well-stocked pantry.

I occasionally teach a class called The Well-Stocked Pantry, and one of the things I emphasize is that everyone's personal well-stocked pantry will look different. Your aim should be to fill your pantry with the things that go into making the foods you love to eat. Then, when you run across a recipe in a magazine or cookbook that hits all of your favorite flavor buttons, it is likely you will already have many of the ingredients that you need.

If you choose to include homemade things (tomato sauce, stock, different kinds of pesto, compound butter, frozen vegetables and fruits from the farmers' market, etc.) in your pantry, stocking it will require some advance planning and the willingness to put in the work ahead. But you will always be glad in the end.

The tomato sauce in my freezer is a good example. I still remember the moment at the farmers' market last summer, standing in front of the table overflowing with vine-ripened tomatoes, thinking that I really didn't have time to make tomato sauce. I was getting ready to leave town and my schedule was packed. I also knew that I was looking at the peak of the crop...if I didn't take the time that weekend to make some sauce, I wouldn't have any for the winter. So, I found the time to do it. And as we ate dinner last night, I was so grateful that I did. With all of the ingredients from my pantry at the ready, all I needed to do was brown the sausage, boil the pasta and layer it all into a baking dish. While it baked, I tossed a salad. Dinner was so easy. But even better than that, it tasted really good.

Even if you didn't make any tomato sauce last summer (or the sauce you made is all gone), I would still encourage you to make this dish if it appeals to you. A quick tomato sauce made from a can of Italian Plum tomatoes (along with some garlic and/or onions) can be a fine thing...just different from one made of vine ripes. Of course, the dish won't be quite as "speedy" if you have to make the sauce the same day, but I think you will like it so much that you won't care.

The leftovers made an excellent lunch....

Baked Pasta with Tomato Sauce, Italian Sausage & Ricotta

1 T. olive oil
6 oz. Italian Sausage, casings removed
2 c. Tomato sauce (see notes)
8 oz. Penne or Fusilli
4 oz Fontina, coarsely grated
1 oz. Parmesan, finely grated
6 oz. whole milk ricotta, seasoned to taste with salt, pepper & nutmeg
2 oz. Fontina or low-moisture Mozzarella, coarsely grated (optional)

Warm the olive oil in a medium sauté pan over moderate heat. Crumble the sausage and add to the pan. Cook, breaking up the larger pieces with a wooden spoon, until browned and cooked through—about 6 to 8 minutes. Add the tomato sauce and bring to a simmer. If the sauce seems thin, simmer until slightly thickened.

Taste and correct the seasoning.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. When the pasta is almost al dente (pastas that will be baked should be a bit firmer than those that will be sauced and served right away), drain.

In a large bowl, combine the pasta and the tomato sauce. Stir to combine. Add 4 oz. of the Fontina and half of the Parmesan and fold in just until evenly distributed—the cheese does not have to melt. Transfer half of the mixture to a buttered 1 1/2 quart shallow baking dish. Daub half of the ricotta over the pasta.

Add the remaining pasta to the dish and daub the remaining ricotta over all. Top with the remaining Parmesan and Fontina (if using).

Topped with Parmesan only

Topped with a mixture of Parmesan and Fontina/Mozzarella

Transfer to a 400° oven and bake until hot through, tinged with brown on the top and bubbling just around the edges—about 20 to 25 minutes. Serves 3 to 4.

Topped with Parmesan only

Topped with mixture of Parmesan and Fontina/Mozzarella

Notes:

This recipe will double easily. Use a 3-quart shallow baking dish (a 13- by 9-inch is perfect).
I have not tried it, but I imagine that a pretty fine vegetarian version of this could be made by substituting 8 oz. of mushrooms for the sausage. Sauté them in a little olive oil, add the tomato sauce and proceed with the recipe.
If you don't have sauce in your freezer, you can of course make one. To make 2 cups of winter tomato sauce, you will need a 28 oz. can of Italian Plum tomatoes packed in juice, a small onion (4 to 6 oz.)—finely diced, 3 or 4 cloves of finely minced garlic and a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Warm the olive oil in a shallow saucepan set over medium heat. Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and sweat, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden—about 10 to 20 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant—about 2 minutes. Pass the tomatoes, along with their juice through a food mill fitted with the coarse disc (or pulse in the food processor or simply break up with your hands). Add the tomatoes along with salt & freshly ground pepper to taste. Simmer sauce, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until thickened—about 30 minutes. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt. You may of course add herbs (basil, oregano, parsley, rosemary, etc.—add with the tomatoes). If you prefer a speedier sauce, skip the onions and just start with the garlic in the olive oil.

Ragoût of Winter Vegetables served with Salmon Baked with Herbed Mustard Breadcrumbs

2012-02-09T22:27:00.000-06:00

Last night I taught a class featuring a Valentine's Day menu for two. Since my goal in teaching the class was to help someone prepare a three or four course meal for a friend or loved one on a weeknight (Valentine's falls on a weekday this year), the individual recipes were necessarily simple and classic. They included crostini topped with a creamy blend of Gorgonzola and soft Goat cheese, a Spinach Salad and Jean-Georges Vongerichten's famous Molten Chocolate Cake. The centerpiece of the meal was an entrée of Salmon Baked with Herbed Mustard Breadcrumbs served on a winter Ragoût of Fingerling Potatoes, Carrots & Brussels Sprouts. The latter was particularly well received—more than one person came up to me afterwards to let me know that they didn't like Brussels Sprouts but that they really liked this dish.

I'm not quite sure what it is about this vegetable dish that is so appealing. At its heart, it is nothing more than a simple combination of roasted carrots & potatoes and quickly braised Brussels sprouts. Perhaps it is the buttery bath they are given at the finish....but it could also be the effect of the sweet carrots softening and complimenting the slightly bitter Brussels sprouts.

For this dish the carrots and potatoes are roasted in a slightly unusual way. They are tossed with olive oil and salt & pepper as is usual (along with some whole garlic cloves and sprigs of thyme)

but are then covered with foil for the first half of the roasting time. Fingerling potatoes will sometimes become dry and tough during the roasting process. Covering them at first gets the cooking process started in a moist environment—the final result is a moist, tender potato. This initially moist environment also helps jump start the cooking of the carrots (for a similar treatment of carrots see my post on my favorite way to cook carrots). The foil is removed for the last 20 to 25 minutes of the roasting time, during which both vegetables caramelize nicely in the heat of the 400° oven.

The Brussels sprouts could be tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper and then added to the uncovered pan of roasting potatoes and carrots. Brussels sprouts take about 20 to 25 minutes to roast, so this would work out perfectly. If you did this, you would have a very nice medley of roasted vegetables, but you wouldn't have a buttery stew of vegetables.... To obtain a buttery stew, you need to braise the Brussels sprouts.

Braising Brussels sprouts is exactly like braising meat (browning, followed by moistening/deglazing, followed by simmering)—it just takes much less time. Begin by quickly wilting some sliced shallots in some butter. The heat should be high enough so that by the time the shallots are limp (after a couple of minutes), they will have just begun to caramelize a bit on the edges. Add the halved sprouts to the pan and continue to cook until they too have begun to take on some color.

Add a small amount of water (or stock, if you prefer)—enough to come about a quarter of the way up the sides of the sprouts—cover and cook at a brisk simmer until the sprouts are just tender to the tip of a knife. This will only take about 3 to 5 minutes.

When the Brussels sprouts are cooked, add the roasted vegetables to the pan (adding more water or stock if the pan is dry). If the carrots and potatoes have cooled, either reheat them briefly in the oven first, or toss everything together for a minute or two in the pan. When everything is hot, add butter and herbs and continue to cook and toss until the vegetables are coated with a buttery film of liquid (again, you may need to add a splash more of water or stock).

The salmon I made to go with these vegetables is easy and elegant. First smear the salmon with a thin film of Dijon (mixed with a little lemon juice and olive oil)

and top this with a generous coating of fresh breadcrumbs mixed with herbs, lemon zest and melted butter.

When baked in a hot oven (450°), the breadcrumbs will become light and crispy and tinged with golden brown color in spots. If you prefer a darker, crunchier breading, you may toast the breadcrumb mixture in a moderate oven (350° to 375°) until golden and crisp (stir occasionally) before putting it on top of the mustard-coated salmon. Salmon with a toasted breadcrumb coating should be baked at a lower oven temperature (375° to 400°).

Whether you toast the breading before applying it to the salmon or not, the breadcrumb mixture can be made ahead and stored in the refrigerator. This makes the preparation of the salmon on the night of your dinner a snap. If you do choose to make the breading ahead, while you are mincing the herbs for it, take the time to mince some extra for the ragoût. Mash these herbs into the butter you will be using to finish the ragoût. Although you can of course simply add the butter and freshly minced herbs directly to the vegetables, making a quick compound butter allows you to mince the herbs ahead of time and store them in such a way that they won't deteriorate or lose their fresh flavor. Wrapped airtight and refrigerated, a compound butter will last several days (and can be frozen for much longer).

Serving the salmon with the ragoût works out particularly well because you can put the salmon into the oven at the same time you begin cooking the shallots for the ragoût and both the salmon and the vegetables will be ready to serve at the same time. But of course, you should not feel limited to serving these vegetables with salmon. They would also make a great accompaniment for some simply prepared pork or chicken or beef...or another favorite fish.

As regular readers have probably guessed, while I like both the salmon and the vegetables, the vegetable dish is where my heart is. It is wonderfully flavorful, versatile and easy to prepare. You should of course feel free to adapt it by varying the herbs to go with whatever else you are serving and to suit your tastes. The thyme could be replaced with rosemary or sage. Minced chives would make a nice addition. If you like bacon, you could incorporate some bacon into the mix by cooking some (cut cross-wise into 1/2-inch pieces) first, lifting it out and using the bacon fat to start the braise. Add the cooked bacon back to the vegetables at the end with the herbs. No matter how you vary this dish...or what you choose to serve it with...I think you (and your guest) will be pleased with the results.

Ragoût of Brussels Sprouts, Carrots

& Fingerling Potatoes

1/3 lb. carrots, peeled and cut 1/2-inch thick on the diagonal
1/3 lb. fingerling potatoes, halved lengthwise
2 cloves garlic, peeled
Several sprigs of thyme
olive oil
Salt & Pepper
2 T. unsalted butter, divided
1 medium shallot, peeled, halved and sliced lengthwise a scant 1/4-inch thick
1/3 lb. Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
water
2 to 3 t. minced Italian flat leaf parsley
1/2 t. minced fresh thyme

Preheat the oven to 400°. In a small bowl, combine the potatoes, carrots, garlic and thyme. Drizzle liberally with olive oil and season generously with salt and pepper. Spread in a single layer in a small, shallow casserole. Cover the pan tightly with foil and roast until the vegetables are tender and golden—removing the foil after about 20 minutes—total cooking time will be about 40 minutes. Discard the sprigs of thyme.

Melt 1 T. butter in a medium sauté pan set over medium to medium-high heat. When it sizzles, add the shallots along with a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally until softened and just beginning to turn golden on the edges—2 minutes or so. Add the Brussels sprouts and a generous pinch of salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until the sprouts begin to turn golden brown in spots—2 to 3 minutes. Add 1/4 cup of water, cover and simmer briskly until the sprouts are just tender—about 3 to 5 minutes.

Uncover the pan and add the carrots, potatoes and, if you like, the garlic. Add a splash of water if the pan seems dry. Heat through, tossing and stirring. When all of the vegetables are hot, add the remaining butter and herbs. Toss until the vegetables are coated in a light buttery sauce, adding more water if necessary. Correct the seasoning. Serves 2.

Note: This recipe can be multiplied to feed as many as you like. When you cook the Brussels sprouts, choose a pan that will accommodate all of the potatoes and carrots as well.

Salmon Baked with Herbed Mustard Breadcrumbs

1/3 c. coarse, fresh breadcrumbs (made with day old bread)
1/2 T. minced Italian flat leaf parsley
1/2 t. minced fresh thyme
1/2 t. lemon zest
1 T. melted unsalted butter
Salt & Pepper

1 T. Dijon mustard
1/2 t. lemon juice
1/2 t. olive oil

2 skinless fillets of fresh salmon (about 5 oz. each and about 1-inch thick)

Combine the breadcrumbs with the herbs and zest in a small bowl. Drizzle the butter over and fluff to combine. Season to taste with salt & pepper.

Combine the mustard, lemon juice and olive oil.

Place the salmon skinned side down on a lightly oiled baking sheet. Spread the mustard mixture over the top of the salmon. Cover with the breadcrumbs.

Bake the fish in the upper third of a preheated 450° oven until the breadcrumbs are tinged with brown and the salmon is cooked the way you like. It will take about 7 to 8 minutes for medium-rare (longer if the fillet is very thick). Serves 2.

Note: Like the vegetables, this recipe too can be multiplied to serve more than two.

Braised Moroccan Spiced Chicken

2012-02-03T15:34:00.002-06:00

I am often asked what is my favorite thing to cook. The (possibly) disappointing truth is that I don't have one favorite thing to cook—my favorites change from day to day, season to season and year to year. Certainly I love to cook whatever I'm hungry for. And for me, what I'm hungry for is frequently a function of the weather. I think if you were to look back over my blog you would find many posts that begin with a discussion of the weather and how it relates to the recipe I'm posting.

Today is no different. I had planned on posting a recipe for baked salmon and vegetables. But it is cold and rainy outside and that particular dish somehow didn't seem like such a great fit. This is a day for a deeply flavorful braise...or a stew—something like the Moroccan Spiced Chicken I made the other night.

with plain couscous and roasted carrots and turnips

If, after reading my recent post on braising/stewing, you have been looking for recipes to practice with, this would be a great one to try.

The recipe for Moroccan Spiced Chicken is a very simple and basic braise. A blending of a recipe for Chicken Tagine by my good friend Nancy and one for Braised Moroccan Chicken that I found at FOOD52, it begins like all braises with the browning of the chicken and the cooking of the aromatics—in this case onion, garlic and a generous quantity of spice. Nancy's recipe adds tomato and I have followed her lead in that. Both recipes end with olives, fragrant preserved lemons and cilantro. It is a warming and hearty dish...just the kind of thing I crave at the end of a damp and chilly day—which would make it one of my favorite things to cook....at least, for today.

Moroccan Spiced Chicken

2 T. olive oil
4 chicken thighs and 4 legs (or 8 thighs)
salt and pepper
1 medium onion (8 to 10 oz.), cut in a small dice
4 fat cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
1 1/2 t. ground cumin
1 1/2 t. ground coriander
1 t. ground ginger
1 t. paprika
1/2 t. turmeric
1/4 t. cayenne
14 oz. can whole tomatoes—passed through a food mill, pulsed in the food processor or crushed with your hands
1 1/2 to 2 cups chicken stock (or canned low-salt broth)
2/3 to 1 c. black or green olives (Kalamata, Gaeta, Picholine or a mix)
1 preserved lemon (see note), cut into sections (if not already), pulp removed and cut cross-wise into fine strips
2 to 4 T. chopped cilantro

Heat the olive oil in a large sauté pan or braiser set over medium-high heat. Season the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper and add to the pan, skin side down. Brown the chicken until the fat is well-rendered and the skin is golden brown; turn and brown the other side. Transfer the chicken to a plate. Do not crowd the pan while you are browning the chicken—fry in batches if necessary.

Remove the pan from the heat and pour off all but a couple tablespoons of the fat. Reduce the heat to medium, return the pan to the heat and add the onions along with a pinch of salt. Cook the onions until soft and golden—about 10 minutes.

Add the garlic and spices and cook until fragrant—about a minute.

Add the tomatoes and use them to deglaze the pan, scraping up the caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a simmer and cook until thick and reduced—5 minutes or so.

Return the chicken to the pan (along with any accumulated juices) and turn to coat in the onion/spice/tomato mixture.

Add enough chicken stock to come a third to half way up the sides of the chicken.

Bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat, cover the pan and cook at a gentle simmer until the chicken is cooked through and almost tender—about 30 to 40 minutes. Add the preserved lemon and olives and continue to cook covered until the chicken is very tender—another 10 to 20 minutes. Remove the chicken to a plate and keep warm. Bring the sauce to a simmer and cook until slightly thickened. Taste and correct the seasoning.

Serve the chicken on a bed of couscous (or rice) with the sauce spooned over. Scatter the cilantro over all. Serves 4.

Leftovers for lunch (excellent, even on a bright and sunny day)

Note: Preserved lemons are an indispensible ingredient for many Moroccan dishes. They can of course be purchased, but it is easy to make your own and recipes abound on the web. The most traditional versions take three weeks (as this one posted by David Lebovitz). There are also "quick" methods that are ready in just 7 days. There are also "cheater" recipes that only take a few hours and although I haven't tried one of these, I imagine they would probably be fine in a pinch.

The beginnings of the "7 day" version

Raspberry-Almond Muffins and a Question about Mixing Method

2012-01-30T19:49:00.000-06:00

This past week I taught one of my all-time favorite classes: Breakfast Breads. The class includes some of my favorite recipes for breads and cakes and covers a wide variety of mixing methods. One of the methods I teach is the "muffin method". Because I typically teach this class in the fall, most of the time the muffin that I use to demonstrate this particular technique is Pumpkin Chocolate Chip. Occasionally, when the class falls during the winter months, I use a recipe for Raspberry-Almond Muffins instead. Since I have already posted the Pumpkin Chocolate Chip recipe, and the Raspberry-Almond are always a class favorite, I thought I would share that recipe too.

Not only are these muffins popular in my classes, they have always been one of my favorites. They were in fact the starting place for my recipe for Everyday Blueberry Muffins (long time readers may remember my quest for the perfect "muffin method" blueberry muffin). Because I like my blueberry muffin recipe so much, as my class approached, I thought I would try that recipe with raspberries and almonds to see if I liked it better than my original raspberry-almond muffin. To my surprise, I did not. Since I don't have an explanation of why one recipe works better with raspberries and the other with blueberries, I won't dwell on it. But I did want to mention it since I ended my blueberry muffin post with the thought that the recipe would probably make good raspberry muffins. This did not turn out to be the case.

In my blueberry muffin post I go into some detail about the muffin method (basically you mix all the dry ingredients in one bowl, all the wet in another and then quickly combine them). One thing I didn't address in that post is the role of sugar. If you were to randomly examine muffin recipes that use the muffin method, you would find that some recipes include sugar in the dry ingredients and some include it in the wet. I have never thought too much about why you would want to choose one way over the other. Most of my recipes include sugar with the dry ingredients. Uncharacteristically for me, my raspberry-almond muffin adds the sugar to the wet ingredients (which probably has something to do with the original source of the recipe more than anything else).

In the recent class, someone asked "why" one would choose one way or the other. Since I didn't know the answer, I came home and looked it up. One source (Baking911) said they always included sugar with the liquid because it resulted in better aeration... No explanation was there as to why this might be true, but I was interested to find an experienced baker who expressed a preference. Shirley Corriher in her book Bakewise doesn't address the issue at all (at least that I could find). But all of her muffin-method muffins use sugar as a dry ingredient.

Some of the more detailed information that I found on the subject was in a post at Finecooking. The author of the article felt that adding sugar to the liquids would limit the development of gluten. (Too much gluten is what makes a muffin tough.) In brief, his reasoning was as follows: Since the proteins that combine to form gluten must have access to water in order to form gluten, and since sugar is attracted to water, adding sugar to the liquid ingredients ties up some of the water making it unavailable for the formation of gluten. This sounds plausible, except that it is my experience that sugar always makes baked goods more tender—for the very reasons described—no matter what the mixing method. My understanding is that when glutenins and gliadins (the gluten forming proteins) are in a competition with sugar for water, sugar always wins.

At this point, it seemed to me that the only reasonable thing to do was to test both methods with my recipe for raspberry-almond muffins to see which one I liked better. So that's what I did. I made half a recipe each way and then sampled them (along with a blind taste tester).

In the final analysis, there was no discernable difference between the two muffins. The batter is more liquid when the sugar is added to the liquid ingredients and it seemed to me that they baked slightly faster and were perhaps a hair taller with this method (better aeration?)...but when I tasted them side by side, I could detect no difference in taste or texture. I was surprised by this. After reading the post at Fine Cooking I had been ready to discover that including the sugar with the liquids was superior and that I was going to have to go back and adjust all of my muffin recipes.... But this will thankfully not be necessary.

Things were slightly different with my blind taste tester. Because it took me some minutes to mix up the second batch (the one that included the sugar with the dry), the two batches of muffins came out of the oven at different times. The batch that included the sugar with the dry was warmer than the batch that included the sugar with the liquid when she sampled them. When she reported to me that she thought one was more tender, I asked if maybe her perception wasn't due to the fact that the one she liked better was still warm. Neither of us complained when we had to sample another pair of muffins at a later point when they were both cold. And at this second sampling my taste tester could not tell the difference between the two muffins either.

Method 1 (adding the sugar to the liquids):

Method 2 (adding the sugar to the dry ingredients):

I think the lesson here...at least for me...is what I already knew: the most important thing when mixing muffins using the "muffin method" is to not over-mix them. Over-mixing is a huge temptation. The batter will still have lumps and visible bits of flour in it when it is done. But, if you resist the temptation to keep mixing until the batter is smooth and looks fully blended, you should be able to produce light, tender muffins.

Another thing I should point out about this recipe is that I use frozen raspberries. Most of the time when you add frozen fruit to a batter, the batter immediately seizes up and becomes very difficult to work with. This is because the frozen fruit is firming up the butter. In this recipe the batter (especially when the sugar is included with the wet ingredients) is very liquid. So liquid that when you mix it up you will think you have made a mistake. But, if you stop mixing at the appropriate moment, and wait a minute or two, the frozen raspberries will chill the butter and the batter will become firm enough to scoop. If you want to make it with fresh raspberries, you should most definitely include the sugar with the dry ingredients because the batter is less liquid when made this way.

I actually prefer to use frozen raspberries because I can break them up a bit before I add them. This disperses the raspberries throughout the muffins more evenly and in random sizes—which is much more pleasant than muffins loaded with big soggy lumps of raspberry.

Finally, I think it is worth mentioning that whenever you add berries, chunks of fruit, dried fruit, chocolate or nuts to a muffin, you should always toss them with the dry ingredients before adding the liquid. Combining the liquid with the dry and then folding in the aforementioned "mix-ins" will necessarily involve over-mixing the batter.

The recipe that I am posting includes instructions for both of the methods I tested. You should choose whichever method pleases you....just remember to not over-mix....

Raspberry-Almond Muffins

2 1/4 c. All-purpose Flour (265 grams)
1 T. Baking Powder
1/2 t. Salt
3/4 c. Sugar
1 large Egg
8 T. Unsalted Butter, melted
1/2 c. Heavy Cream
1/2 c. Milk
1/2 t. almond extract
1 1/3 c. frozen (unsweetened) raspberries, lightly broken—do not thaw
1/2 c. sliced almonds
Sugar for sprinkling (granulated or Turbinado)

Preheat the oven to 400°. Spray, grease or line with muffin-liners, a 12-cup muffin tin. Set aside.

Method 1 (sugar with the liquids):
In a large bowl, whisk together the first three ingredients; set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the egg, butter and sugar together. Whisk in the cream, milk and almond extract. Add the frozen raspberries to the dry ingredients and toss to coat. Pour the liquid ingredients over the dry and stir until just combined—this will only take a few strokes. A few clumps of flour will be visible in the batter—this is as it should be (do not over mix!). The batter will appear to be very liquid. After sitting a minute or two, the frozen berries will solidify the butter and the batter will firm up considerably.

Method 2 (sugar with the dry ingredients):
In a large bowl, whisk together the first four ingredients; set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the egg and butter together. Whisk in the cream, milk and almond extract. Add the frozen raspberries to the dry ingredients and toss to coat. Pour the liquid ingredients over the dry and stir until just combined—this will only take a few strokes. A few clumps of flour will be visible in the batter—this is as it should be (do not over mix!).

Bake the muffins:
Scoop the batter into the prepared muffin cups. Sprinkle the top of each muffin with some sliced almonds, and pat gently to help them adhere to the muffin top. Sprinkle each muffin with a bit of sugar.

Bake for 18 to 22 minutes—until the muffins are golden and a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean. Serve warm. Makes 12 muffins.

Braising (and Stewing) Basics

2012-01-24T19:29:00.003-06:00

January and February are my favorite months of the year for making braises and stews. Here in the Midwest, the weather is technically appropriate from early fall and on in to March. But there's something about the slower pace of life after the holidays.....the slow processes of braising and stewing become very appealing.

Sunday was not really cold, but the weekend was generally blustery and gray—weather that seems to call for a braise. So for dinner on Sunday I prepared a variation of Alice Waters' Beef Stew from her book The Art of Simple Food. It was very good. It is also a classic and basic recipe. Since it has been my intention since I started this blog to write a post on the basic techniques of braising, now seems like a convenient time for such a post. I have included my variation of Ms. Waters' stew at the end of the post.

My understanding of the science of what is going on in the braising pot is mostly intuitive—based on practical experience and snatches of things I have read over the years. Consequently, I will not be delving into the science of the braise in my post. Rather I will be giving a step by step procedural of how a braise or stew is accomplished. My purpose, as always, is to get people cooking. It is my hope that after reading this that you will be able to execute any recipe for a braised meat with more confidence, eventually with more skill, and always with a measure of success.

For the remainder of the post, I will use the term braise and stew interchangeably. The only differences between a braise and a stew are the size of the cut of meat (braises are typically made with large cuts and stews with smaller pieces) and the amount of liquid involved (braises are usually accomplished in less liquid than a stew).

Braising is a moist heat cooking procedure. Its purpose is to tenderize. Cuts appropriate for braising will be tough, sinewy and often fatty. They frequently are located near or around a joint. They are loaded with collagen which, under the braising process, breaks down into gelatin. The final result of a well-prepared braise is meltingly tender and succulent pieces of meat. Examples of good braising cuts are lamb shoulder, lamb shank, veal shank (osso buco), veal breast, pork butt (shoulder), pork “country ribs”, beef chuck, beef brisket, beef short ribs, ox tail and chicken legs.

Braising does no favors for tender and lean cuts of meat. In fact, the long cooking will ruin these (usually expensive) cuts. When subjected to the long braising process, they will become dry and stringy. Classically you will find chicken breasts (a lean and tender cut) included in the French sauté—which is a type of stew. Unless you are using an old "stewing hen", I think that these kinds of preparations are better when made with just the legs and thighs, but if I do include the breasts, I always remove them when they are "just" done—which is some time before the stewing process is complete. This way the breasts are not really stewed—the cooking process they undergo is more akin to poaching or steaming. To finish these sautés that include the breasts, I return the breasts to the pan with the legs and thighs for a short reheat in the sauce just before serving.

Braises are even better if the meat is given a pre-cooking treatment of some sort. At a bare minimum I like to pre-salt the meat. This insures that the meat is well-seasoned throughout. I also think that it improves the texture of the final product. If you are not familiar with pre-salting, I wrote a short post about it last winter. Meats to be braised can also be treated to a dry rub and frequently they are marinated (in some wine, aromatic vegetables, herbs, spices, etc.). All of these things will improve and enhance flavor—but none are strictly necessary.

For the cooking of the braise, choose a pan/pot that is just large enough to comfortably hold the meat and any vegetables that will be added in a snug single layer. If the meats and vegetables are piled on top of one another they will not cook evenly. It is also best to choose a short-sided pan so that there is not a lot of air space left between the braising meats and the lid.

The first step of a braise is to brown the meat. Browning adds color and flavor to the final dish. This may be done in any fat of your choice (olive or vegetable oil, bacon fat, butter, etc.) in a pan on the stovetop. For large, unwieldy cuts, it is sometimes done by rubbing the entire piece of meat with fat and placing it on a rack in a hot oven (425° to 475°) and roasting until browned—20 to 30 minutes. Whichever method you choose, to get the most flavor you should make sure that all of the surfaces reach a deep, rich, solid brown.

When sautéing, the meat should first be patted dry (so that it won't steam) and the pan and fat should be very hot before you add the meat. Once the meat is added, regulate the temperature so that it is high enough to maintain an active sizzle, yet not so high that the meat (or the caramelization developing on the bottom of the pan) burns. If you have more meat than your pan can comfortably hold (there should be some space between the pieces of meat), brown in batches.

The process as described above is universally applicable to every braise with a couple of exceptions: Sometimes you will be directed to dredge the pieces of meat in flour prior to browning in fat on the stovetop. This aids in browning, but more importantly it will help thicken the final liquid. You will occasionally run across a classic "white" stew (like Blanquette de Veau) or other preparation (like the Mexicali Meat I posted last March) that is not browned at all.

When the meat is well-browned, lift it out of the pan. At this point aromatic vegetables (onion, garlic, leeks, carrot, celery, fennel, peppers, etc.) are usually added to the pan. You should adjust the amount of fat in the pan as necessary to obtain a thin film that will coat the vegetables. You may need to add more or pour off the excess. The vegetables may be caramelized or simply softened in the fat. This will depend on the depth of color desired in the final dish. Again, regulate the heat accordingly and as necessary.

Next, deglaze the pan. Basically deglazing a pan is dissolving the caramelized sugars and proteins left in a pan after roasting or pan-frying by adding a liquid. Any liquid may be used for this—water, stock/broth, wine, fortified wine, tomatoes, etc. Any fat remaining in the pan should be poured off before the deglazing liquid is added. The goal of deglazing is to capture the flavor in the caramelized food substance and preserve it for the sauce—or in this case the braising liquid. It isn't enough to simply add the liquid and allow it to boil, you need to use a flat wooden spoon (or something similar) to actively scrape the bottom of the pan. This will insure that the caramelized bits are released into the sauce. If wine or a fortified wine is used to deglaze, it should be boiled to reduce the volume, concentrate the flavor and soften the harshness of the alcohol. And although tomatoes are not as acidic as wine, when used as the deglazing agent for shorter braises (less than an hour—in a chicken sauté, for example), they too will benefit from a brief cooking to concentrate their flavor and soften their acidity.

Reducing the red wine used to deglaze the pan

Once the deglazing liquids have been reduced, return the meat to the pan. Sometimes the braising vegetables are removed from the pan prior to deglazing. If this is the case, return the vegetables to the pan with the meat. Next add the braising liquid. The liquid may be water, stock (if you are not able to match the stock to the meat, chicken stock makes a good all purpose cooking medium) or the wine marinade. When I use the wine that I have marinated the meat in as my braising liquid, I always bring it to a boil (in a separate pan) before using it, skimming off and discarding any impurities that rise to the surface in the form of foam. If this is a braise that will cook for less than 2 or 3 hours, reduce the wine marinade by half before using it as the braising liquid (for the same reason the deglazing wine is reduced—to rid it of the harshness of the alcohol and concentrate the flavor).

I mentioned at the beginning of the post that one of the differences between a braise and a stew is the amount of liquid used. If you are braising, you should add only enough liquid to come one-quarter to two-thirds of the way up the sides of the meat. If you are making a stew, the liquid should come all of the way up the sides of the pieces of meat so that only the tops of the pieces of meat are visible (some recipes will call for even more).

The stew...ready for its long simmer

Bring the liquid to a good simmer. Reduce the heat, cover tightly and cook. It is important that the cooking be accomplished at a bare simmer. A rapid simmer or hard boil will ruin the braise—it will produce dry, stringy, meat and murky, greasy sauces. Moreover, the meat will not cook any faster at a boil than it will at a bare simmer. The cooking may be done on the stovetop or in a low oven—whatever temperature produces a bare simmer. Start at 325° and check after the first 20 minutes and occasionally thereafter. Adjust the oven temperature as necessary.

I prefer to cook a braise in the oven—the oven will maintain a consistent, all around gentle heat (as opposed to strong bottom heat). The oven also mimics to some degree a "true" braise. The word braise is from the French and refers to a pot with a concave lid. This pot was filled with the meat, vegetables and liquid, placed directly in the coals and more coals were piled on top—creating an all around gentle heat. (Some recipes will direct you to press a piece of parchment or foil to the surface of the braise, underneath the lid. This creates an interior space in the pot similar to that of a traditional braising vessel.) The other thing I like about cooking the braise in the oven is that it requires less attention from me—and part of the beauty of a braise is that once started, it pretty much cooks itself.

When you check the braise, resist the temptation to stick a spoon in the pot to stir things up. This is completely unnecessary (particularly if the braise is in the oven and/or you have put the meat in a pan that holds it in a single layer). As the meat begins to get tender, stirring will cause the meat to shred and fall apart. In general, a finished braise should be comprised of beautiful chunks of glistening meat—not shredded bits.

If you are making a braise that uses very little liquid, it may be necessary to turn the meat over from time to time. But if this is the case, take the time to carefully turn each piece over with a tongs so that the pieces of meat will remain intact. Occasionally, the goal is shredded meat—if this is the case, it is of course fine to stir.

The braise is finished when the meat is meltingly tender. The tip of a knife will encounter no “grab” or resistance—it will slide in and slide out of the meat. Meats cooked on the bone will be nearly falling off of the bone. No matter what the recipe says, continue to cook until this point is reached—it may take 3 or 4 hours (or more for very large pieces of meat).

The final dish may include the aromatic vegetables from the initial cooking or they may be strained out for a more refined dish. When the sauce will not be strained, it is not uncommon for additional vegetable “garnish” to be added to and cooked with the braise. These vegetables are simply added at an appropriate point during the cooking process so that they are not only cooked, but very tender when the braise is done. A good example of this is the kind of pot roast my mother made when I was growing up. The pot roast was started with the onions and liquid and then an hour before she planned to serve it she added carrots and potatoes to the pot.

When the aromatic vegetables are strained out, a separately cooked vegetable garnish (poached, roasted, sautéed, etc.) is often added and simmered in the finished sauce with the meat for 5 or 10 minutes prior to serving. Good examples of this are the stew I am posting today or the Poulet Basquaise I posted a couple of years ago.

The finished stew, ready to serve--braising vegetables have been strained out, the sauce lightly thickened and fresh cooked carrots added.

To strain the sauce, lift the meat out to a plate and pour the remaining contents of the pot through a fine-meshed sieve (use a Chinois if you have one). I like to press on the contents of the sieve to extract as much liquid as possible, but inevitably, some of the soft, cooked vegetables will pass through the mesh. If this bothers you, press very gently, or don't press at all (but you will lose some of the precious sauce if you don't press). I don't mind when some of the vegetables get through—they have been reduced to a purée by virtue of the cooking and straining process and they only serve to thicken the sauce.

If not serving right away, cool the meat in its cooking liquid. Braised meats generally improve in flavor and texture if allowed to sit overnight (or for several hours). Furthermore, meats that are so tender they are falling apart will be easier to handle and serve if they are allowed to rest and/or cool in the cooking liquid.

Whether you are serving it right away or not, the liquid should be skimmed of as much of the surface fat as possible. This is easily accomplished if the braising vegetables are going to be strained out—strain the liquid into a deep container, allow it to sit for a moment or two and then use a ladle to skim off the fat. If you are not straining the sauce, a good trick is to skim off as much as you can with a spoon then take several thicknesses of paper towels and press them to the surface of the braise—the towels will absorb the fat first and the fat will repel the liquid, enabling you to get rid of the maximum amount of fat with minimal loss of the tasty sauce. If the stew is to be served the next day, simply chill it (without skimming) and the next day scrape/lift off the hardened fat.

The final step of the braise is to finish the sauce. It is rare for the sauce to be too thick, but if it is—or if there isn't enough of it (for a stew, for example), simply add some stock or water. If the sauce is too thin, it may be reduced—particularly if the flavor isn't as strong as you would like. To reduce the sauce it may be gently simmered or, if the meat and vegetables have been removed, boiled. A too thin sauce may also be thickened with a cooked roux or beurre manié (equal quantities of soft butter and flour, combined to make a paste). Bring the sauce to a simmer and whisk/stir in the roux/beurre manié a little bit at a time, waiting after each addition for it to take effect before adding more. You don't want it to be too thick... Taste and correct the seasoning and you are done.

The recipe for the stew I am posting today was intended to be a casual affair of big chunks of meat with the soft braising vegetables left in it...and I'm sure it would have been very good that way. But I was in the mood for something a bit less rustic, so I opted to strain out the braising vegetables. To the meat and finished sauce (thickened with a small amount of beurre manié) I added some freshly cooked carrots. I served it over buttered noodles (you should always serve a nice starch—potatoes, rice, couscous, noodles—with a stew or braise to soak up all of the wonderful sauce). Altogether it made an elegant, flavorful and satisfying Sunday night dinner. And if you are new to the technique of braising, this dish would be a good place to begin.

Red Wine Braised Beef

3 lbs. beef chuck, trimmed and cut into 1 1/2 to 2-inch cubes (see notes)
Salt & freshly ground pepper
2 T. olive oil
3 slices bacon, cut into 1/2-inch squares
2 onions, peeled and quartered
1 large or 2 small carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch lengths
1 small head of garlic, cloves peeled and lightly crushed
2 cloves
2 sprigs thyme
1 bay leaf
a few peppercorns
3 T. brandy
1 1/3 c. red wine
half of a 14-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes, crushed with your hands
1 thin strip of orange zest
2 cups chicken stock (this is what I used, but if you have beef stock, you should use it)
Kneaded butter (beurre manié—see notes)

Season the beef generously with salt and pepper. If possible, do this a day ahead. Wrap and chill. Whether you have pre-seasoned the meat or not, let it sit at room temperature for an hour before browning.

In a wide, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the bacon and cook until rendered and lightly brown, but not crisp. Remove to a plate. Add the beef to the pan and brown well on all sides. If necessary, brown the meat in batches. Transfer the browned meat to the plate with the bacon. Pour off all but a tablespoon or so of the fat, reduce the heat slightly and add the onions, carrots, garlic, herbs and spices to the pan. Toss to coat in the fat and cook until lightly browned. Add to the platter with the beef.

Increase the heat and add the brandy—be careful, as the brandy may flame. Reduce by half and add the wine. Bring to a simmer and reduce the wine by two-thirds, scraping up all the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. When the wine is reduced, add the tomatoes, orange zest and stock. Bring to a simmer.

Return all of the meat and vegetables, along with any accumulated juices to the pan—everything should fig in a snug single layer. Check the level of the liquid. It should be at least three-quarters of the way up the sides of the beef. Add more stock, or water, if needed. Cover the pan and transfer to a 325° oven. Cook at a bare simmer until the meat is meltingly tender—2 to 3 hours. Check the stew occasionally to be sure that it is not boiling—reduce the oven temperature if it is (I ended up cooking the stew at 275°). If the level of the liquid becomes too low, add water.

When the meat is tender, remove the pan from the oven. Lift the pieces of meat out and transfer to a plate. Strain the liquid into a deep container, pressing on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids. Allow the liquid to stand for few moments so that fat can separate to the surface. Skim away the fat. You should have a minimum of 2 cups of liquid. Return the liquid to the pan and bring to a simmer. If the liquid is too thin, gradually whisk in some of the kneaded butter until the sauce lightly coats the back of a spoon. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper. Return the meat to the sauce along with some cooked carrots (see notes). Cover and simmer very gently for 5 minutes to heat through and allow the flavors to blend.

Serve the meat, carrots and sauce over pappardelle noodles (2 oz. per person) tossed with butter and minced flat leaf parsley. Scatter more parsley over all. You should have enough meat and vegetables to make 4 to 5 generous servings.

Notes:
• I purchased a chuck roast that was 2-inches thick, so my pieces were on the large side—which I prefer. For slightly smaller, more traditional "stew" sized pieces, try to find a chuck roast that is 1 1/2-inches thick. (And you should purchase a whole chuck roast when you make stew—the "stew meat" sold at the butcher's counter is odds and ends of different cuts—some of which are really not that great for stewing. If you don't want to cut it yourself, purchase a whole roast and ask the butcher to cut it for you.)

3 lb. beef chuck roast

Cut into chunks for stewing. The 3 lb. roast yielded 4 oz. of fatty trim and 14
nice sized pieces and 3 slightly smaller pieces.

• For this recipe I mixed together a tablespoon of butter and a tablespoon of flour for the beurre manié. I used half to three-quarters of this mixture to thicken the sauce.
• To prepare the carrots to add to the final stew, trim and peel a pound of carrots. Slice the carrots a generous 1/2-inch thick on the diagonal. Place the carrots in a covered pan (something wide and shallow) along with a tablespoon of butter and a generous sprinkling of salt. Add enough water to the pan to come half way up the carrots. Cover, bring to a boil and simmer until the carrots are tender—about 20 minutes. Uncover, increase the heat and cook until the liquid has evaporated and the carrots are glazed with the butter.

• Alice Waters suggests adding a half cup of pitted black olives to the finished braise and while I didn't do this, I think it would be very good. Add with the carrots to the strained sauce.

(Recipe adapted from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters)

Basmati Pilaf with Dried Tart Cherries & Pistachios

2012-01-19T11:46:00.002-06:00

I love grain pilafs. I love their textures...I love their taste possibilities...I love their versatility. They can always be counted on to make an interesting side dish, but more and more, I am enjoying them as the main event. And because many of the things I like to put in my pilafs are pantry staples—grains, nuts, dried fruits, spices—they can be pulled together quickly and easily without too much advance planning.

Typically I don't think of making a meatless entrée pilaf out of rice (possibly because rice is fixed in my mind as a side dish). But recently, when I ran across a recipe for a Chicken, Chickpea and Rice Pilaf at Cookstr, the presence of the chickpeas made me think of a couple of bulgur pilafs that I have posted here—both of which I serve as a main course. I thought a meatless pilaf in the style of this one would make a good main course too. And it did.

To make the pilaf, I started with a base of saffron rice. One of the tastiest ways I have ever had saffron rice is with a topping of crispy fried onions. I'm not crazy about frying in general—and certainly not for a weeknight meal (every cook has certain tasks they would rather not do)—so I just incorporated some caramelized onions into the base of a French-style pilaf. It isn't the same, but it tasted very good.

Lightly caramelized onions

Briefly cooking the rice with the onions

Other changes I made to the pilaf were aimed at adding color and a bit of contrasting tartness. With an eye to both of these things, I substituted tangy and dark dried tart cherries for the pale and sweet golden raisins. I added more color by using pistachios instead of almonds. For a final bit of zip, I sizzled the chickpeas in some olive oil along with a bit of Cayenne.

Serving the pilaf with plain yogurt adds some nice contrast too. If you are not going to serve it with yogurt, you should definitely give the pilaf a squeeze of lemon juice at the end. Even if you are serving it with yogurt, you might still want to add the lemon—it seems to lift and enhance all of the other flavors.

The original pilaf didn't include a roasted vegetable. Because I like chunks of vegetables in my main course pilafs, I added some roasted carrots.

Carrots roasted with cumin and coriander

If you don't like carrots, cubed and roasted winter squash would also be good. And while they have an entirely different flavor profile, I think turnips would be a nice option too (or almost any root vegetable, for that matter).

I do of course understand that many people feel they haven't had dinner if they haven't had meat or fish. If you fall into that category, you can still make this flavorful pilaf. Just serve it as a side—as is, or without the carrots and chickpeas. I think it would be especially nice with lamb...but fish—or the original chicken—would be good too.

Basmati Pilaf with Chickpeas, Dried Tart Cherries & Pistachios

1 lb. carrots, peeled and cut on the diagonal 1/3-inch thick
Salt & Pepper, to taste
olive oil
1/2 t. (heaped) ground cumin
1/2 t. (heaped) coriander

2 T. olive oil
1 medium onion (about 8 oz.), diced
1 fat clove garlic, minced
Salt
1 c. basmati rice
2 c. boiling water
a generous pinch of saffron

1/2 c. dried tart cherries
1 T. olive oil
1 15-oz. can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1/8 t. Cayenne (or more to taste)
3 T. minced flat-leaf parsley
1/2 c. toasted pistachios, coarsely chopped
Lemon juice, to taste (optional)

Place the carrots in a large bowl. Season to taste with salt & pepper. Add enough olive oil to coat along with the spices and toss to coat. Spread on a baking sheet. Roast in a 425° oven until tender and browned in spots, stirring once—about 25 to 30 minutes. Set the vegetables aside until ready to assemble the pilaf and reduce the oven temperature to 350°.

While the vegetables roast, warm 2 T. olive oil in a medium saucepan with a tight fitting lid over moderate heat. Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and cook until they are tender and beginning to caramelize (20 minutes or so). Add the garlic and cook until fragrant—about a minute.

Add the saffron to the water and keep hot.

Increase the heat under the onions to medium high and add the rice along with a generous pinch of salt. Continue to cook for a 2 minutes or until the rice is well-coated with oil and has begun to turn opaque. Add the water and bring to a full boil. Season with salt, reduce the heat to low, cover and transfer to a 350° oven. Cook for 18 minutes. Remove from the oven and scatter the cherries over the surface of the rice.

Cover and let stand for 5 minutes.

While the rice is resting, warm a tablespoon of oil to a medium sauté pan. Add the chickpeas and cayenne and heat through. Return the roasted vegetables to the oven to heat through.

Transfer the rice and cherries to a large bowl. Add the carrots, chickpeas, pistachios, and parsley. Toss until everything is well combined.

Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper. If the pilaf tastes flat, add a squeeze of lemon. Serve accompanied by some plain yogurt. Serves 3 or 4 as an entrée.

Cauliflower Pizza with Cheddar & Bacon

2012-01-15T16:48:00.000-06:00

In a recent post I mentioned that I've been on a bit of a pizza making kick. I still am. This week we had a pizza that seemed—to me at least—a bit unusual: Cauliflower with Sharp Cheddar and Bacon. It was delicious. I have always believed that just about any vegetable could be turned into a successful topping for a pizza and it is in the spirit of that belief that I am sharing this recipe.

Since anything that releases water during the cooking process (i.e. most vegetables) needs to be cooked before it can be used to top a pizza, I sliced and sautéed the cauliflower first. If you prefer, you could roast the cauliflower: Cut it into uniform florets, toss it in some olive oil and roast in a hot oven. I would not recommend blanching or steaming since both of these methods would introduce more water...not to mention the fact that sautéed or roasted cauliflower is so much more interesting than cauliflower that has been boiled or steamed. If you have never sautéed cauliflower before, check out my post on Pasta with Sautéed Cauliflower from last winter.

To go with the cauliflower, I simply chose some traditional pizza toppings that taste good with cauliflower. For a cheese, sharp Cheddar was at the top of my list, but Gruyère and Parmesan would also be good. I think cauliflower needs something salty, so I added some bacon. You could go meatless and use capers and/or olives as your salty component—just add them to the cauliflower sauté towards the end (as in the pasta post). Finally, I added some caramelized onions. I like the sweetness they contribute...but if you are short on time, you could probably leave them off.

As I said at the start, this pizza was delicious. I can't think of a better way to get someone who thinks they don't like cauliflower to give it a try. I love cauliflower now, but this hasn't always been the case. I don't remember the moment when I began to enjoy cauliflower, but I'm guessing it involved either caramelization (from roasting or sautéeing) or cheese....and possibly some bacon. This pizza scores on all points.

Cauliflower Pizza with Cheddar & Bacon

3 strips of bacon (about 3 oz.), cut cross-wise in 1/4-inch strips
1 small onion (4 or 5 oz.), trimmed, halved, cored and thinly sliced
Half a medium head of cauliflower, leaves trimmed and tough core removed—you should have about 10 to 12 oz. of trimmed weight
1 to 2 T. Olive oil
1 ball of pizza dough (see below), rested
5 oz. Sharp Cheddar, coarsely grated

Place the bacon in a medium sauté pan and cook over medium-low heat until well-rendered and beginning to crisp. Using a slotted spoon, remove to a paper towel. Pour off all but a tablespoon of the bacon fat and add the onions to the pan along with a pinch of salt and increase the heat a bit. When the onions begin to sizzle, reduce the heat to low, cover the pan, and cook—stirring occasionally—until the onions are soft (20 to 30 minutes). Uncover, increase the heat and cook until the onions are caramelized—about 10 minutes. Set aside until cool enough to handle.

While the bacon and onions cook, lay the half cauliflower—cut surface down—on the cutting board. Slice in 1/8- to scant 1/4-inch thick slices. You will have slices of varying size cross-sections and small bits of floret when you are done.

Warm a tablespoon of olive oil in a large sauté pan (the pan should be large enough to hold the cauliflower in a shallow layer—if it is piled to high it will steam rather than sauté) over medium to medium-high heat. Add all the slices of cauliflower to the pan, for the moment leaving the smaller bits behind on the cutting board. The cauliflower should sizzle gently in the pan.

Allow it to cook undisturbed until the edges are beginning to brown—about 3 minutes or so. Add the remaining bits of cauliflower and a light sprinkle of salt and give the contents of the pan a toss or two (or stir and fold) to redistribute the cauliflower in the pan.

If the pan seems dry, drizzle in a bit more oil. Continue to cook, regulating the heat so the cauliflower doesn't burn and tossing or stirring only as the bits and edges of the cauliflower take on color (the amount of stirring will probably less than you are inclined to do).

Continue to cook until the cauliflower is tender and caramelized.

The volume will have shrunk quite a bit. The total cooking time will be about 15 minutes. Taste and correct the seasoning. Set aside to cool. Combine the bacon, cauliflower and onions. Taste and season with salt & pepper as necessary.

Build the pizza: On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a 12-inch circle. Transfer the dough to a pizza pan, baking sheet or pizza peel that has been dusted with flour. Using your fingers, push up the edges of the dough to make a slight rim. Scatter half of the cheese over the dough. Spread the cauliflower mixture over the cheese and scatter the remaining cheese over all.

If using a pizza pan or baking sheet, place the pizza in the pan on a pre-heated pizza stone in a pre-heated 450° to 500° oven. Bake until the crust is golden brown on the bottom and the cheese is bubbling, about 12 to 15 minutes. To insure a crisp crust, slide the pizza off of the pan and onto the pizza stone as soon as the crust is set (after 4 or 5 minutes).

If using a peel, slide the pizza directly onto the preheated baking stone. Bake until the crust is golden brown on the bottom and the cheese is bubbling—about 8 to 10 minutes.

When the pizza is done, transfer to a cutting board and cut into wedges and serve.

Pizza Dough:
1 cup warm water (100º-110º)
1 package (2 1/4 t.) active dry yeast
2 1/2 to 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 T. olive oil
1 t. salt

Combine the water, yeast, and 1 1/2 cups of the flour in a large bowl. Whisk until smooth. Add the oil, salt and another cup of the flour. Stir with a wooden spoon to form a soft dough that holds its shape. Scrape the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and sprinkle with a bit more flour. Knead the dough, adding just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking, until the dough is smooth and springs back when pressed lightly with a finger—about 5 to 10 minutes. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl and cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Let rise until doubled in bulk—about 1 hour. Punch down the dough and turn it onto a lightly floured surface. Divide the dough into two pieces (for 12”-pizzas) and roll into balls. Cover with a towel and let rest for 10 to 20 minutes. The dough is now ready to be shaped, topped and cooked or frozen.

(Crust recipe adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins)

Variation for a Whole Wheat Crust: Instead of unbleached all-purpose flour, use 1 ½ c. bread flour and 1 to 1 ½ c. whole wheat flour (the new “white” whole wheat flour is a good choice).

Lunch of leftover pizza and Waldorf Salad

Classic Waldorf Salad

2012-01-09T21:58:00.000-06:00

Nothing complicated or fancy today...just a quick post of one of my favorite winter salads: Classic Waldorf. I know there are lots of variations on this old favorite, but to me a Waldorf Salad should just be apples, walnuts, raisins and celery (not too much!), lightly bound with a sweet and tangy mayonnaise-based dressing. At a time of year when raw and fresh seem like a distant memory, the presence of this crunchy and juicy salad on the table is a delight.

Waldorf Salad

1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 T. lemon juice (or more to taste)
1 T. honey

2 medium-sized sweet-tart apples (I like Pink Lady), cored and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large rib of celery, trimmed, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
1/2 c. (2 oz.) toasted walnuts, coarsely broken
1/2 cup (heaping) golden raisins

Place the mayonnaise, lemon juice and honey in a small bowl and whisk to combine. Taste and correct the sweet-tart balance with lemon juice. Set aside.

Place the remaining ingredients in a bowl.

Pour the dressing over and fold together until the apples, celery, walnuts and raisins are evenly dressed.

Serves 3 or 4.

Creamy Cauliflower Soup

2012-01-03T16:58:00.001-06:00

My first class in the new year will be a soup class. One of the soups I will be making is a simple and elegant Creamy Cauliflower Soup. The original inspiration for this soup was Alfred Portale's Cauliflower Vichyssoise. Made with cauliflower and leek instead of potato and leek, I think its texture is even more smooth and silky than its namesake. It is identical in color to a traditional potato leek soup, so it might be possible to trick someone who normally wouldn't be inclined to like cauliflower into trying it. I think that once tasted though, it will be finished (with possible requests for seconds). This soup, with its mild flavor and amazing texture, is easy to like.

I have changed Portale's soup only slightly. Since cauliflower lacks the natural starch present in potatoes, I have added a small amount of rice to the soup (just like the Celery Root & Apple Soup I posted in November). In this soup the starch isn't really necessary for thickening, but it does act as a binder, enhancing the velvety texture and keeping the vegetable solids and liquids from separating.

The other change I have made is to finish the soup with heavy cream. I just can't help myself. You can of course leave it out, but I think its presence would be missed. When you think about the number of servings you can get out of two quarts of soup, the amount of cream per person is really pretty small. If the cream truly bothers you, maybe use less. But as I tell my classes, I don't think that Americans are getting fat because they put heavy cream in their homemade soups.

My favorite way to garnish this soup is with toasted walnuts and crumbled Roquefort,

but there are many other possibilities. These same two ingredients could be served on a crostini and floated on the surface of the soup (like the goat cheese crostini that garnishes my Asparagus Soup). Alfred Portale suggests a cauliflower garnish. To make it he removes three or four large florets of cauliflower from the simmering soup after 3 or 4 minutes (they should be barely tender), slices them thinly. The nice looking slices are sautéed in a bit of butter and are set afloat in each bowl of soup (accompanied by a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of chives). Any not-so-nice slices and bits of cauliflower are returned to the simmering soup.

I have never tried it, but I think that crisp bits of bacon, some grated white cheddar and minced chives would also make a nice garnish....or some nice little garlic or parmesan croutons along with some minced parsley....

As I gathered my ingredients to make this soup, I was struck by the monochromatic color palate of the ingredients.

After the bright and intense colors of the holiday season, the whites, ivories and pale greens of the ingredients had such a tranquil look about them. The flavor too of this soup is simple and clean. It seems that making it...and eating it...could be a nice curative for the over-stimulation of our holiday season. Happy New Year.

Creamy Cauliflower Soup

4 T. unsalted butter
1 small to medium onion (6 to 8 oz.), diced
3 leeks, white and pale green only, thinly sliced (to make 3 to 4 cups) and thoroughly rinsed in several changes of water
1 T. rice
2 med. cauliflower, cored and cut into uniform florets (you will have about 7 c., weighing roughly 1 3/4 lb.)
5 c. water or light chicken stock (or half water and half stock)
1 c. heavy cream

Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onions and leeks along with a pinch of salt and sweat until translucent—do not let them color. Add the rice

and cook a minute or two. Add the cauliflower and some salt and stir to coat. Cook for a few minutes. Add the water or stock (I like to use half stock and half water) and salt to taste.

Increase the heat and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook for 18 to 20 minutes or until the cauliflower is quite tender.

Purée the soup and pass through a fine strainer. Add the heavy cream and heat the soup through. If necessary, thin with water or stock. To serve, gently reheat the soup. When hot, taste and correct the seasoning. Serve immediately with a garnish of your choice.

Makes 2 generous quarts

Smoked Salmon Rillettes

2011-12-30T13:31:00.001-06:00

For my final post of 2011 I wanted to share one of my very favorite appetizers—Smoked Salmon Rillettes. This dish is simple to prepare and can be served in either an elegant or a rustic setting. It would be perfect for sharing at a potluck or serving at your own formal (or not-so-formal) dinner. Hopefully I'm posting it just in time for those New Year's Eve celebrations.

Rillettes are a rustic kind of pâté. Traditionally they are made with pork, duck/goose, rabbit...even game. Tough, sinewy and frequently fatty cuts of meat (or combination of meats) are cooked using the slow, tenderizing process of the braise (using stock, water and/or wine) or, more frequently, the confit (submerged in fat—lard or duck/goose fat—and cooked very gently and slowly). The resulting meltingly tender meat is deboned, shredded and combined with some of the braising liquid or confit fat and packed into a terrine or crock. The chilled rillettes are then served with crusty baguettes. If you have ever tasted rillettes, you probably remember them...they are unbelievably tasty and dangerously addictive.

When I was in cooking school we were taught how to make a "modern" adaptation of rillettes using a combination of fresh and smoked mackerel. From my description of rillettes in general you have probably picked up on the fact that rillettes are not a low-fat food. In fact, I would say that one of the hallmarks of rillettes is their unctuous texture—due, in not a small part, to their fat content. The transformation of rillettes into a preparation made with mackerel is quite logical since mackerel is a very fatty fish. The addition of the smoked mackerel adds a salty quality that nicely echoes the characteristic saltiness of the confited meats and poultry that are typically used to make the traditional versions of rillettes.

Later in my career when I came across a recipe for rillettes made with salmon (also a fatty fish), I immediately gave it a try. It was delicious and I fell in love with it. The recipe was from Alfred Portale's 12 Season's Cookbook and it uses the same method as the mackerel rendition that I had first tasted in London: The fresh fish is poached, flaked and folded into a mixture of puréed smoked fish, soft butter, crème fraiche, lemon and herbs. For a long time, I was very happy with this version...and would have remained so if a friend and colleague hadn't shown me a recipe for salmon rillettes from Anne Kearney that ran in the NY Times several years ago.

The recipe for salmon rillettes that I make today is a combination of the things I like best from Anne Kearney's recipe for Double Salmon Rillettes and Alfred Portale's recipe. Most significantly, the smoked salmon is not puréed in Ms. Kearney's recipe. Instead, sliced smoked salmon is cut into thin strips

and folded together with the flaked poached salmon. This gives a rustic, ropey texture to the final dish—very much in keeping with the look and texture of traditional rillettes. The other "genius" moment in her recipe involves reducing the liquid the fish was poached in to a syrup which is then added to the rillettes. This addition adds depth and richness to the final dish.

When you make salmon rillettes, remember that the quantities given in the recipe are guidelines. You should play with this recipe and make it your own. Some recipes use equal quantities of fresh and smoked salmon (Alfred Portale's, for example) and some use half as much smoked as fresh (like Anne Kearney's). My preference is somewhere in the middle—probably closer to equal quantities. The crème fraiche and butter too should be added to suit your preferences for taste and consistency. Just start with the recommended amount and then add more if you like—or, next time add less. And the lemon and herbs should always be added to taste.

I will end this my final post of the year with a simple observation. My experience with discovering a new and better version of rillettes when I was already very satisfied with the recipe I had illustrates what is I think one of the great lessons of cooking—at least for us "perfectionist" types. That is, that I should never think that any one version of a dish I love contains the be all and end all of methods. There will always be new and different ways of doing things....and learning these things will only improve my skills. This is one of the things I have grown to truly love about cooking. It is a never ending adventure and a constant learning process. It is never boring—at least it doesn't have to be. So as we end one year and begin another, I'll wish you not only a Happy New Year(!), but also "Happy Cooking!"

Rillettes de Saumon Fumé

(Smoked Salmon Rillettes)

1/2 lb. skinless salmon fillet, cut into 2-inch chunks (see note)
Kosher salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste
1 large or 2 small shallots, finely diced
5 T. very soft unsalted butter, divided
1 1/2 c. dry white wine
6 oz. smoked salmon, thinly sliced and cut into thin strips
1/4 c. crème fraiche or sour cream
grated zest of 1 lemon
juice of 1/2 lemon, more or less to taste
1 T. chopped fresh dill—more or less to taste—plus more sprigs for garnish
1 T. finely minced fresh chives—more or less to taste

Season the salmon with salt and pepper. Smear the bottom of a medium sauté pan with 1 T. of soft butter and add the wine and shallots. Add the salmon

and bring to a simmer. Cook until the salmon is almost done—it will flake and have a trace of translucence in the center. (In my experience the salmon is just about perfectly cooked if you do the following: Once the wine has come to a good simmer, cover the pan and remove it from the heat. The salmon should be just right after about 7 to 10 minutes—break a piece open to check.) Lift the salmon out (leaving as many shallots behind as possible) and place it in a bowl; set aside. Bring the poaching liquid to a boil and reduce to a syrup (you’ll have about 2 T.).

Strain the reduced liquid over the salmon, pressing hard on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible. Let cool.

Add the remaining ingredients to the cooled salmon and gently fold until the mixture is homogenous (the rillettes will be chunky and the poached salmon will break down into shreds). Make sure that the butter is very soft when you add it; cream it before adding in a separate bowl—or against the side of the mixing bowl—if it is not.

Taste and adjust the seasonings with salt and pepper and lemon juice. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or for up to 24 hours.

Serve on crostini or crackers as individual prepared hors d’oeuvres or in a bowl surrounded by toasted sliced baguette and crackers. Garnish the individual hors d'oeuvres or the bowl with sprigs of dill.

Makes about 2 1/2 cups, serving 8 as an appetizer.

Note: I think salmon rillettes are at their best when made with fatty King Salmon.

Almond Crescent Cookies

2011-12-23T09:43:00.000-06:00

I have been making Christmas cookies for as long as I can remember. Over the years I have amassed quite a collection of recipes, but Spritz cookies—my childhood favorite—always remained at the top of the list. A few years ago I ran across a recipe for Almond Crescents in Rose Levy Beranbaum's Rose's Christmas Cookies. This cookie has supplanted Spritz cookies as the one cookie that I have to make every year...no matter how busy I am. Even this year—which has been busier than recent seasons—I have still managed to make a couple of batches of crescents. So it seems fitting to end my short parade of Christmas cookie posts with this, my favorite Christmas cookie to bake and give.

An unassuming little cookie, the crescent is generally not the first cookie that people gravitate towards when they approach the cookie platter (unless they have had one before). But it is always the one people remark upon. Similarly, I was not particularly attracted to them the first time I flipped through Beranbaum's book. Fooled by their plain and simple appearance and a bit put off by the rather fussy process of molding the crescents, I too almost passed them by.

Forming the little crescents is indeed a bit of a tedious task (although the dough itself is extremely easy to make), but as it turns out, one of the things I love about these cookies is the precise work of portioning and forming the crescents. It forces me to slow down for a bit during this perennially busy season and enjoy the moment. I always put on my favorite Christmas movie—White Christmas—and hum along as I work. I know the movie by heart, so I don't have to have my eyes on the screen all the time. Although, I admit to having to stop and sit down to watch Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye do the "Sisters" number—I never get tired of it. And when Rosemary Cluny sings "Love, You Didn't Do Right by Me"—that also requires a pause in my work...such an amazing voice.

All and all, a very pleasant and quiet way to spend an evening during the holidays. And the results are more than worth it. Tender and with a delicate crunch, these cookies have an addictive, faintly cinnamon-y, almond flavor. Everyone I have ever given them to remembers them and seems very pleased when they find a few tucked into their gift once again.

Almond Crescents

2 oz. (2/3 c.) blanched sliced almonds
1/3 c. (2.25 oz.) sugar
1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter
2 c. plus 1 T. (8.25 oz.) all-purpose flour
1/4 t. salt
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 t. cinnamon

In a food processor fitted with the metal blade, process the almonds and the sugar until the almonds are ground very finely.

Cut the butter into a few pieces and add. Process until smooth and creamy.

Scrape the sides of the bowl and add the flour and salt. Pulse just until the flour is incorporated. Scrape the dough onto a piece of plastic wrap, press into a thick disc, wrap it tightly and refrigerate for about 2 hours or until the dough is firm.

Combine the 1/2 c. sugar and cinnamon and set aside.

Divide the dough into 6 equal portions (use a scale to divide the dough so that your crescents will all be the same size). Work with 1 section at a time, keeping the remainder of the dough refrigerated. Knead the dough between lightly floured hands until malleable. Roll the dough into a 10-inch cylinder.

Cut into 10 1-inch segments.

Take one segment at a time and roll it into a 3/4-inch ball. On a lightly floured counter, or between your palms, roll each ball into a cylinder with tapered ends, about 3 inches in length and 1/2-inch thick in the middle. Form each cylinder into a crescent shape and place on an ungreased or parchment-lined cookie sheet 1 inch apart (30 cookies will fit on a standard-sized half sheet pan/cookie sheet).

Bake the cookies for 14 to 16 minutes in a 325° oven until set but not brown. Cool the cookies on the sheet for 10 minutes (if you try to lift them off immediately, they will fall apart).

While they are still warm, use a small, angled metal spatula or pancake turner to lift them from the sheets and dip them, 1 at a time, in the cinnamon sugar, turning gently to coat all over.

When the cookies are completely cool, transfer to an air tight container for storage. Makes 5 dozen cookies.

(Recipe from Rose’s Christmas Cookies, by Rose Levy Beranbaum)

Christmas cookie platter with (among other things) Almond Crescents, Cucidati, Cranberry-Pistachio Biscotti & Scottish Shortbread Fans.

Chocolate Almond Toffee

2011-12-19T23:58:00.002-06:00

Last year I posted a recipe for the "Best-Ever Nut Brittle" that originally ran in the December 2007 issue of Food & Wine. One of the things that makes it truly the "best-ever" is the use of roasted salted nuts. So when a couple of years later the same magazine ran a recipe for Chocolate-Almond Toffee using roasted salted almonds, I sat up and took notice.

The recipe I am posting today is a slightly altered version of that Food & Wine recipe. I love the use of salted nuts and the addition of even more salt, but I wasn't crazy about the fact that the finished toffee was completely encased in chocolate. As strange as it might sound, that's simply too much chocolate—it overwhelms the flavor of the toffee. My version (like a lot of versions) only has chocolate on the top.

Another significant change I made to the recipe was to substitute a small amount of corn syrup for some of the granulated sugar. Corn syrup helps to prevent re-crystallization of the sugar. If you are new to candy making and the process of cooking sugar syrups, check out last year's brittle post for some other pointers on how to prevent crystallization.

The original recipe gave instructions for pouring the toffee into an 8- by 11-inch pan. This results in a finished toffee that is quite thick. I have made the recipe in a 9- by 13-inch pan, and while this is somewhat better, it is still too thick for me. I find that I like it best when it is on the thin side, so I like to pour it onto a half sheet pan, covering about 2/3 of the pan. This is obviously a personal preference—you should make the toffee in a thickness that pleases you.

As you pour out the hot toffee, move the saucepan back and forth over the prepared sheet pan so that the candy is spread in as even a layer as is possible. Even though it is quite fluid, it tends to want to stay where you pour it. If you pour it out into a pile in the center of the sheet, it will spread out somewhat, but it will still be very thick in the center and much thinner toward the edges. Unfortunately, it is difficult to spread or otherwise manipulate with a spatula (or spoon) once it has been poured out.

During the entire toffee making (or any candy making) process, treat the hot sugar syrup with respect—giving it your full attention. Keep small children and animals, as well as anything else that might distract you, out of the kitchen. The final temperature of the candy is 300° F. This will inflict a serious burn on any flesh that it touches.

Finally, I wanted to call attention to the fact that the recipe calls for both coarsely chopped and finely chopped almonds. The coarse almonds are added to the toffee, while those that are finely chopped are scattered over the chocolate. It is not necessary to chop the coarse and fine separately—it can all be done at once. Simply put all of the almonds on the cutting board

and begin chopping until all of the nuts are chopped and the largest pieces are "coarsely chopped". The chopping process will have naturally produced coarsely and finely chopped bits.

Scoop all of the nuts into a dish and shake it back and forth and side to side. The larger pieces will percolate to the top of the dish. Lift out three ounces of these larger pieces. Return the remaining ounce of almonds (most will be very fine) to the board and run your knife through them a few times until all are fine.

I am not certain that I would presume to call the toffee I make the "best-ever"...but I do think that it is awfully good. Suffice it to say that I am no longer on the lookout for a toffee recipe. This is the toffee that I will be making for my family and friends for many holiday seasons to come.

Chocolate Almond Toffee

1 1/3 c. sugar (267 g)
2 T. water
8 oz. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, sliced
2 T. light corn syrup (41 g)
1 t. kosher salt
2 t. vanilla
1 c. roasted salted almonds (4 oz.), 3/4 coarsely chopped and 1/4 finely chopped
4 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped

Line a half sheet pan with aluminum foil. Butter the foil, or spray with spray release ("Pam"). Set aside.

In a large saucepan, combine the sugar, water, butter and corn syrup and cook over moderate heat until the sugar dissolves. Increase the heat to medium high and bring to a boil.

If there are any sugar crystals visible on the side of the pan, brush the pan's sides with a pastry brush dipped in water, repeating until any sugar crystals disappear. Continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the toffee is deeply golden and registers 300°F on a candy thermometer—about 10 minutes.

Remove from the heat and carefully stir in the vanilla and salt. Use a long handled spoon—the mixture will bubble vigorously. Stir in the coarsely chopped almonds, then immediately scrape the brittle onto the prepared pan. Tilt the pan to spread evenly.

Let cool for 10 minutes. Scatter the chopped chocolate over the toffee and spread into a thin layer when melted.

Scatter finely chopped almonds evenly over the chocolate.

Let cool completely. Break into pieces and store air-tight. Makes about 1 1/2 pounds Chocolate Almond Toffee.

Note: The toffee goes together more easily if you place the coarsely chopped nuts in a 300° oven while the syrup boils—that way the nuts won’t bring down the temperature of the candy syrup when they are added

Italian Fig Cookies (Cucidati)

2011-12-16T12:04:00.000-06:00

I finally got around to starting my annual Christmas cookie baking last Sunday. There are many years when it is likely that it would never happen at all if it weren't for the fact that I teach a class that features eight of my favorite Christmas cookies. (This is one of those years...) I have already posted two of the cookies that I teach in my class—Scottish Shortbread and Cranberry-Pistachio Biscotti. Today I thought I would share the recipe for Italian Fig Cookies (Cucidati).

I found this recipe in Gourmet magazine almost ten years ago. For several years running (2000 through 2006) Gourmet Magazine's December issue was filled with recipe after recipe of amazing Christmas cookies. I looked forward to that issue's arrival every year—many of my favorite Christmas cookies come from those issues. (I am still so sad that Gourmet is no more.)

Cucidati are the original Fig Newton—only they are so much better. Besides figs, cucidati typically include other dried fruits like raisins (dark or light), currants and/or dates. In addition to the dried fruit, most recipes also call for finely chopped nuts (almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts, pine nuts, pecans...). The finished filling is fragrant with orange—fresh zest, juice and/or candied peel—spices and spirits (brandy, rum, whiskey...). To my mind, a Fig Newton is a kid's cookie...Cucidati are for grownups.

The fig filling is encased in a soft, tender cookie crust. To make the cookies, the dough is rolled out and cut into strips that are 1/8-inch thick and 3 1/4-inch wide.

The filling is arranged in a narrow mound down the center of each strip and the dough on either side of the filling is lifted up and over and then sealed so that the filling is wrapped in a thin tube of dough. These "logs" are then cut into short lengths to form the individual cookies.

The description of how to roll out the dough in the recipe may seem a bit convoluted, but the details of rolling to a specific size, then trimming and then cutting are to help you create strips that are exactly 3 1/4-inch wide and 10 inches long. This size strip will hold exactly 1/3 cup of the filling. But once you have made these cookies a few times, you will have a feel for how much filling to use and you can then roll the strips (of any length) in the way that works best for you (so long as it doesn't create too many scraps—the scraps can be re-rolled once, but more than that and they will be tough).

The recipe tells you to chill the dough until it is firm, but even when well-chilled it will still be soft and a bit sticky. When rolling it out, make sure your work surface and your rolling pin are well floured. (You can always brush away the excess flour with a dry pastry brush.) Because the dough is so soft, it is easiest to lift it up and over the filling if you have a long, narrow spatula. Slide the spatula under the edge of the dough and use it to lay the entire edge over the strip of filling in one motion. At that point the other side (which will have been moistened to help it adhere) can be lifted in the same manner. Roll the log over and rock it gently against your work surface so that the dough is well-sealed.

The logs can be cut immediately, but because the dough is so soft, a quick chill of 15 minutes or so in the freezer will make it so that they are much easier to cut cleanly and neatly. I have never done it, but I imagine that the uncut logs could be frozen (just like a traditional "slice and bake" cookie). You would then be in a position to have a few warm Cucidati any time the mood strikes....

Italian Fig Cookies

(Cucidati)

Crust:
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup plus 2 T. sugar
1 T. baking powder
1 t. Salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1-inch chunks
2 large eggs
1 1/2 t. vanilla
1/2 cup milk

Place flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a food processor and process to blend. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture looks like coarse meal. Turn butter and flour mixture into a large bowl. Whisk together the eggs, vanilla and milk. Drizzle over the flour mixture and stir with a fork to form a dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead a few times. Flatten the dough into a rectangle between sheets of plastic. Chill until firm—at least 8 hours.

Filling:
9 oz. (1 heaping cup, packed) dried figs (preferably White Turkish), stems discarded
3 3/4 oz. (3/4 cup) golden raisins
zest and juice of one orange
4 oz. (3/4 cup) whole almonds, toasted and finely chopped
3 oz. (3/4 cup) walnuts, toasted and finely chopped
1 t. ground cinnamon
1/4 t. ground nutmeg
1/4 t. ground cloves
3/4 c. honey
1/4 c. brandy, dark rum or marsala

Place the figs, raisins and orange juice in the food processor and process until finely chopped. Transfer to a large bowl and add the remaining ingredients. Stir until well combined. Cover with plastic wrap and chill at least 8 hours.

To form the cookies, divide the rectangle of dough in half and return one half to the refrigerator while you work with the first half. Roll the rectangle of dough out on a well-floured surface into a 12- by 15-inch rectangle that is about 1/8-inch thick. Trim to a 10- by 13-inch rectangle (chill the trimmings). Cut this rectangle into 4 10- by 3¼-inch strips. Arrange 1/3 cup filling in a 1-inch wide log down the length of each strip. Working with one strip at a time, lightly moisten the one of the long edges of the dough with water. Fold the opposite edge up and over the filling and then fold the moistened edge up so that the filling is enclosed in the dough. Roll the cookie logs over so the seam is down and press lightly to make sure the seam is well sealed. Repeat with the remaining 3 strips of dough and filling. Cut the logs crosswise with a sharp floured knife into 1-inch lengths. Arrange the cookies ½-inch apart on parchment lined baking sheets. Roll out the remaining dough with the trimmings in the same manner to make more cookies.

Bake the cookies in a 350° oven until set and golden—about 16 to 20 minutes. Transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool.

Makes about 80 1-inch cookies. If you prefer a larger cookie, cut the logs into 1½-inch lengths to get 4 to 5 dozen cookies.

The cookies may be decorated in a number of ways:
• Dredge the cooled cookies with powdered sugar.
• Just before baking, brush each cookie lightly with egg wash and sprinkle with sanding sugar, turbinado sugar or colored decorative sugar.
• When the cookies are cool, drizzle with a glaze made of 1 c. powdered sugar, 1/2 t. vanilla and 1 1/2 to 2 T. orange juice.

(Recipe adapted from Gourmet, December 2002)

Festive Holiday Almond Cake Squares

2011-12-12T19:10:00.001-06:00

I spent several days last week working with a friend in her pastry shop, then on Sunday I attended a potluck for which I had volunteered to bring a dessert. Since I had been surrounded by cakes, frostings and fillings, and lovely little petit fours all week, for my potluck contribution I was inspired to prepare some simple little cake squares out of my favorite almond cake. Filled with red raspberry jam and frosted with pale green frosting, they had a festive, Christmas-y look.

Besides being appropriate for the season, the cake squares were perfect for a potluck. To me the ideal dessert for a potluck should be something that can be served in small, one or two bite portions. A small dessert is "pre-portioned" so people don't have to wrestle with knives, cake servers, or gooey spoons—they can just grab (ideally with their fingers) and go. Also, since there is always a selection of desserts at a potluck and people want to sample several, miniature desserts make it so they can do so with minimal guilt.

If you are attending a potluck this season, there are many desserts that can be served in charming, miniature portions. Brownies and bar cookies of all kinds can be cut into any size you like—and, except for the ooziest bars and gooiest brownies, they make good finger food. I have posted several likely candidates over the course of the past year—Chocolate Truffle Squares with Candied Orange, Black Forest Brownie Squares and Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bars. This time of year, a platter of a special Christmas cookie is always a good idea, too.

As I mentioned at the beginning of the post, the cake squares that I took with me yesterday were made with an almond cake. But you could do the same thing with any favorite cake as long as it is a cake that has a fine, moist crumb so that it can be sliced cleanly. Pound cake would be a good choice, as would the Pistachio Cake I posted in March of this year.

To make cake squares, bake the cake in a square or rectangular pan. The baked cake should be about 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 inches tall. The recipe for the pistachio cake, for example, is for a 10-inch round, single layer cake, but will bake perfectly in a single 9-inch square pan. A 9-inch round single cake layer will fit into an 8-inch square pan. I imagine that there are charts out there somewhere that will give exact pan conversions, but you can always measure pans by filling them with water and then measuring the volume (or weight). Also, if the depths of the pans you are comparing are the same, you can use a simple calculation of the area of a circle, square or rectangle to see if two pans can be used interchangeably.

After you have decided on the kind of cake you want to make, decide if you want to split and fill the layer (with jam, citrus curd, frosting/buttercream...or nothing at all) and how you would like to "finish" the cake (with a glaze, icing/frosting/buttercream, a simple dusting of powdered sugar with a rosette of whipped cream and some berries, etc.). Obviously variations are endless. I really liked the version that I made, but I could have left the frosting an ivory color and topped the cake squares with a fresh raspberry. I also toyed with the idea of finishing the cake squares with chocolate ganache—almond, raspberry and chocolate are a magical combination—but decided in the end with green and red for Christmas.

I would like to say that making these simple looking cake squares is easy, but I would be dishonest if I didn't tell you that you should have some facility with icing cakes and using a piping bag in order for them to turn out well. I am not a professional cake decorator so I will not attempt to explain the details of icing a cake and using a piping bag. I am certain there are web-sites and blogs devoted to this subject that do a much better job than I could. In my directions I will only mention the things that I think are particularly important. Above all, you must be neat, clean and precise.

To prepare the cake squares you will need the cake (recipe below), seedless raspberry jam—approximately 1/3 cup, 1 recipe Honey Cream Cheese Frosting (see below)—tinted green with 2 or 3 drops of green food color, and green decorator sugar.

Before building the cake squares, wrap the cooled cake layer and refrigerate until firm and cold. Using a serrated knife, split the cake in half horizontally. Spread a thin layer of seedless raspberry jam over the bottom half.

Top with the remaining layer. Frost the top of the cake with the cream cheese frosting. It is not necessary to frost the sides because they will be trimmed away, but I usually slick a "crumb coat" onto the sides out of habit and to keep stray crumbs from mucking up my work area. If you want the frosting on the top to be perfectly smooth, after you have frosted the cake run an offset spatula that has been dipped in very hot water and then wiped dry over the top of the cake. You will need to make several passes, rinsing and drying the spatula between each stroke. Chill the cake until the icing and cake are firm—at least an hour, preferably longer.

Using a long, thin, sharp slicing knife, trim the edges of the cake to make the cake perfectly square. (Sample the trimmings to make sure that what you are taking to the potluck is edible.)

The slicing knife—like the offset spatula—must be dipped in hot water and wiped dry before each stroke. Cut the cake into 36 squares. There are many ways to organize your slices (cut the cake into 6 long thin rectangles and then make 6 cuts across these rectangles....cut the cake in quarters and then cut each quarter into 9 squares...etc.)—the most important thing is to make sure your knife is always hot and dry and that your cuts are evenly spaced. It helps to use a ruler.

Top each of the squares with a small rosette of the frosting using a piping bag fitted with a star tip. Use a light hand to sprinkle some green decorator sugar over each cake square. If you like those little silver balls (dragees), you could sprinkle 3 or 4 over each little rosette.

I should mention that these cake squares can't be made too far in advance. Traditional petit fours are completely covered with fondant or a poured glaze of some kind. This effectively seals the cut surfaces of the little cakes so that they won't dry out. Because these cake squares are only frosted on the top, they will dry out if made too far ahead. The cake can be frosted and filled well in advance—it needs to chill anyway—you just need to wait until closer to the time you will be serving it to cut it.

Madeleine Kamman's Danish Holiday Almond Cake

8 oz. unsalted butter, cool room temperature
1 c. granulated sugar
10 1/2 oz. almond paste (not marzipan), finely grated
1 t. vanilla
5 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup sifted cake flour
large pinch of salt
1/2 t. baking powder

Preheat the oven to 325°. Butter a 10-inch round or 9-inch square cake pan. Line the pan with parchment, butter the parchment and dust the pan with flour. Set the pan upside down and tap it once to remove all traces of excess flour.

Using a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter until white. Add the sugar and almond paste and beat until fluffy and white again, 2 to 3 minutes on medium-high speed. Turning the speed down to low, add the vanilla and then add the eggs, one at a time. Beat again on medium-high speed after each addition until the batter returns to white foaminess, scraping down the sides of the bowl before adding the next egg. Finally, resift the cake flour mixed with the baking powder and salt directly over the batter and fold into the batter. Turn into the prepared pan and bake for 40 to 45 minutes. The cake is done when it is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into its center comes out clean.

Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then unmold onto a wire rack and let cool completely before cutting.

(Recipe from The New Making of a Cook by Madeleine Kamman)

Honey Cream Cheese Frosting (adapted from The Vineyard Kitchen ): Place 4 oz. of unsalted butter in the bowl of a stand mixer along with 4 1/2 oz. of confectioners' sugar, 1/8 t. salt and 1/4 t. vanilla. Beat on medium-high until light and fluffy—about 2 to 3 minutes. Scrape down the bowl. Add 8 oz. of cream cheese and beat until incorporated—about 20 seconds. Scrape down the bowl and drizzle in 2 T. of honey. Beat until smooth—about 15 seconds.

Using Beef Tenderloin "Trim"

2011-12-06T23:05:00.000-06:00

My busy season with work started off with a bang last week. Unfortunately, this means that I haven't had too
much time to devote to my blog. So that regular readers won't wonder if I have dropped off the planet, today I thought I would squeeze in a quick post about a meal I made recently with beef tenderloin trimmings.

A little over a year ago I posted a description of how to clean, trim and portion a whole beef tenderloin. I pointed out that when you trim a tenderloin there are invariably a few small, odd shaped pieces that remain after the whole has been reduced to steaks and roasts. Since tenderloin is expensive—and there is nothing "wrong" with these pieces other than that they are oddly sized—I try and make a habit of using them for weeknight/informal family meals.

Last Saturday I trimmed a whole small tenderloin for roasting. Besides the fat, sinew and "chain", the trimmings produced a small chunk, a thin strip of the head and the thin tail piece. The total weight of all of this useable "trim" was just over half a pound—which in my world is a perfect amount of meat for two portions. I know that at first glance these pieces may not look like a typical "steak",

tenderloin pieces, resting with "deglazings" poured over

but when cooked properly, sliced and fanned on the plate, they look fine—and as I'm sure you can imagine, they tasted great.

I didn't do anything special or difficult when I cooked these pieces—I rarely do for a simple meal at home. Just season the meat with salt and pepper and sear on all sides in a little bit of oil in a hot sauté pan. Sometimes, for large/thick pieces of meat, I will transfer the sauté pan to a hot oven to finish the cooking process there. But on this particular occasion, because the pieces were so small and thin, I finished them on the stove by reducing the heat, adding a pat of butter and continuing to cook, turning the pieces occasionally, until they reached the "doneness" that I prefer. As you can see, I prefer rare/mid-rare...which only takes a few moments. I deglazed the pan with water—but if you have stock or wine on hand, that would be fine too. Rather than turn these "deglazings" into a sauce, I simply poured them over the resting meat. Then when I sliced and served the meat, I poured the resting juices and deglazings over all.

To go with our tenderloin, I served some buttered Brussels sprouts and Butternut squash roasted with red onions and sage. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I always keep Brussels sprouts on hand during the late fall and winter months. Serving them was an obvious choice—particularly since I had a chunk of squash that I wanted to use up. Brussels sprouts and winter squash make excellent partners.

The butternut squash is from a recipe by Maria Helms Sinskey that ran in Food & Wine several years ago. You can find it here. I followed it almost exactly...except that I didn't prepare the browned butter or fry the sage separately. Instead, I just tossed the sage in with the onion, squash, olive oil and brown sugar and roasted everything together. The sage leaves become crispy in the oven and obligingly break into smaller pieces every time the squash and onions are stirred.

This simple meal of pan-seared tenderloin and vegetables came together very quickly—making it perfect for a busy day. And for us, since we don't tend to eat a lot of meat, the presence of the tenderloin gave our meal a nice, special occasion air.

Chocolate Fruit Cake

2011-11-30T23:39:00.004-06:00

I kicked off my holiday baking with a Date, Dried Cherry & Chocolate Torte. I ran across the recipe in an old issue of Gourmet magazine, but it is originally from Deborah Madison's book Local Flavors. For the most part I try to post things on my blog that I have put my own stamp on in some way, but occasionally I just want to pass along a recipe that I think more people should know about. This is one of those recipes.

I think that this cake, with its abundance of slightly boozy fruit and its dense texture, could most accurately be described as a chocolate fruitcake. But since (as I mentioned last year in my Brandied Fruit & Almond Pound Cake post) not too many Americans will try a cake with "fruitcake" in the title, "Date, Dried Cherry & Chocolate Torte" is a clever name. If, like me, you love dates, dried cherries and chocolate, you will probably love this cake. I made it on Saturday and started eating it on Sunday. I expected it to be best the day after I made it, but I have been surprised to discover that it continues to get better—becoming moister and more intensely fruity with each passing day.

The original recipe called for 1 1/2 cups of two varieties of dates. I only had one kind of date on hand (Medjool—my favorite), so instead of making the cake with all dates, I substituted some nice white Turkish figs for a half cup of the dates. If the distinctive seedy crunch of the figs would bother you, go ahead and use all dates. But, if you are a fan of those little Italian Fig Cookies called Cucidati, you will enjoy the cake when it is made with the figs.

I think this cake would make an elegant holiday dessert...cut in small wedges and served with a little whipped cream. But it is also excellent served with an afternoon cup of coffee (or tea). And I don't really need the whipped cream...or even the plate. I have discovered that my favorite way to eat a slice has been with my hands—using my fingers to break off little chunks of this chocolate-y, fruity treat.

Date, Dried Cherry & Chocolate Torte

1 c. Medjool dates (6 oz), pitted and each cut into 6 pieces
1/2 c. Dried figs, stemmed and cut into uniform dried cherry-sized pieces or use another variety of dates, pitted and each cut into 6 pieces (3 oz)
1 c. dried tart cherries (5 oz)
1 t. baking soda
1 c. boiling water
1/4 c. brandy
1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch-process), sifted to remove lumps
1/2 t. salt
1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 c. sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1 t. vanilla
zest of one orange
6 oz fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not unsweetened), coarsely chopped
3/4 c. pecans (3 oz), lightly toasted and finely chopped

Combine dates, cherries, and baking soda in a heatproof bowl, then stir in boiling water and brandy. Set aside to cool.

Whisk together flour, cocoa, and salt.

Cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Beat in the vanilla and zest. Add the eggs one at a time, beating until just combined. Add half of flour mixture and beat at low speed until just combined. Add date mixture with liquid and beat at low speed until just combined. Add remaining flour mixture and beat until just combined. Stir in chocolate and pecans.

Pour batter into a buttered and floured 9-inch springform pan, smoothing top. Bake in middle of oven until center is slightly rounded and top of torte is cracked (edges will be dark brown),

about 55 minutes. Let torte stand 10 minutes in pan on a rack. Run a small knife around side of pan to loosen, then remove side. Cool torte on rack. Cake tastes best if allowed to sit, well-wrapped, for 24 hours. Serves 12 to 16.

(Recipe adapted from Local Flavors by Deborah Madison)

Turkey Leftovers...

2011-11-27T23:16:00.000-06:00

I have been teaching people how to prepare the Thanksgiving feast for as long as I have been teaching cooking classes. But during all of that time I think I have only had the privilege of preparing the entire spread for my own family a couple of times. This turned out to be one of those years. I of course love it when I have the opportunity to enjoy someone else's cooking, but there are a lot of things I miss when I don't get to prepare the meal. I think the thing I miss the most is having left over roast turkey. Since there were just seven of us at my table this year, and I roasted a fifteen pound bird,

I had lots of leftovers....and I have been enjoying every bite. We are still working on them, but I thought I would take a moment to share what I have made so far.

I think everyone starts out their first round of "leftovers" with a reheated plate of everything they had at the main event. It's a way of truly savoring the meal—knowing that such a spread really only happens once a year...and you have to make it last. Next up is the roast turkey sandwich. My perfect leftover turkey sandwich includes lettuce, slivers of cheese (something like a sharp Cheddar is good—but I wouldn't turn my nose up at a bit of Brie), leftover cranberry sauce and plenty of mayonnaise and Dijon mustard. My bread of choice is a nice artisanal loaf of Rosemary Olive Oil bread from a local bakery. It is substantial enough to stand up to all of the filling, but not so much so that it overpowers the sandwich. Since it is also the bread I like to use to make dressing, I have it on hand any way.

Another favorite—albeit old-fashioned (maybe I should say "retro"...it sounds much more cool)—is Turkey Tetrazzini. A simple baked casserole of spaghetti, turkey, cheese and mushrooms, bound in a rich velouté and topped with breadcrumbs,

there are literally hundreds of versions of this recipe floating around. Mine is a variation of one that ran in Gourmet magazine several years ago. Besides the classic ingredients this recipe includes some sherry and scallions. When I make it, I make my velouté with turkey stock and, if there is any left, some turkey gravy—which truly makes this dish a once a year treat.

This year I also had a lot of leftover sweet potatoes. I knew from the start that there were only going to be a couple of us at the table who would eat sweet potatoes, but since it isn't Thanksgiving to me without the sweet potatoes—and I was in charge of the meal—I made them. They were delicious. They were also the perfect "glue" for some lunchtime quesadillas. Besides a thin layer of the sweet potatoes, I added some caramelized red onion,

a scattering of chopped turkey and some Monterey Jack cheese.

With a spoonful of cranberry sauce on the side, they were quite a treat. The purée that I made this year was a combination of sweet potatoes and carrots, but any simple sweet potato purée would work—just make sure you don't pile it on too thickly (or your quesadillas will ooze).

For dinner this evening—to go with the last of the sliced turkey breast (there are still lots of chunks and shredded pieces that will be great in soups, casseroles, quick pastas...)—I made a big salad that was loaded with some of my favorite Thanksgiving ingredients. To baby lettuces, I added diced roasted sweet potatoes, blanched green beans, dried cranberries and toasted walnuts. I dressed it with a simple sherry vinaigrette (1 small shallot, 1 T. sherry vinegar, 3 T. olive oil) and piled it on top of the turkey that had been warmed up in a bit of leftover turkey stock. It was a very good salad. Even if I don't have any turkey on hand to serve it with, we will be having this salad again.

There are so many ways to use up roast turkey that I know I will run out of turkey long before I run out of ways that I want to eat it. Earlier this month I posted a soup and a casserole that would both be excellent places for some of those leftovers. Other simple ideas include quiche, frittatas, quick pastas and grain pilafs. It isn't necessary to reinvent the wheel or do something wildly unusual. As a chef I am sometimes a bit dismayed as I look at the same old things on my family's holiday table year after year. But the same things show up every year for a reason: they are the favorite foods that everyone grew up with...they are well-loved. And as a friend said to me this morning (as we were comparing turkey leftover notes over the pews), it is the same with Thanksgiving leftovers. They are all about combining turkey in a variety of different ways with your other favorite holiday foods.

Turkey Tetrazzini

3 1/2 to 4 T. butter, divided

1/2 c. coarse breadcrumbs
6 oz. mushrooms, sliced
2 green onion (including most of green), trimmed and thinly sliced
1 to 2 T. dry sherry
8 oz. (1 1/2 to 2 cups) shredded roast turkey
2 T. all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole milk
1 c. turkey stock (or use chicken stock)
1/2 c. leftover turkey gravy (or use 1/4 c. milk plus 1/4 c. stock and increase butter and flour in the roux by 2 t. each)
8 oz. spaghetti
2 oz. grated Gruyère (1/2 cup)
1/2 oz. grated Parmesan (about 3 T.)

Preheat the oven to 350°. Generously butter a 1 1/2 quart gratin or casserole and set aside.

Toss the bread crumbs with 1/2 T. of melted butter and set aside.

Sauté the mushrooms in 1 1/2 T. of butter in a non-stick sauté pan set over medium-high heat. When the mushrooms are browned, tender and any liquid that they have given off has evaporated reduce the heat and add the green onions. Cook briefly to wilt. Add another 1/2 T. of butter if the pan seems dry. Add the sherry and reduce to a glaze. Transfer the mushrooms to a large bowl and season with salt and pepper.

Add the turkey to the bowl with the mushrooms.

Prepare the velouté: In a small saucepan, bring the milk and stock to a simmer; keep hot. In another small saucepan, melt 1 1/2 T. of the butter over medium heat. When the foam subsides, whisk in the flour. Cook stirring constantly for a few minutes—the roux will be bubbly and straw yellow. Remove from the heat and pour in half of the hot milk/stock, whisking constantly until smooth—it will thicken immediately. Add the remaining milk/stock mixture. Return to the heat and stir constantly until the sauce returns to a simmer. Add the gravy and bring to a simmer. Taste and season as desired with salt and pepper. Keep hot while you cook the pasta.

Cook the pasta in a large pot of rapidly boiling water seasoned generously with salt. Stir and cook until the pasta is al dente (since it will continue to cook as it bakes with the sauce, it can be left quite firm). Drain the pasta.

Add the pasta and velouté to the bowl with the turkey and mushrooms and fold in. Add the cheese and quickly fold in—the cheese does not have to melt. Turn the mixture into the prepared pan. Scatter the buttered breadcrumbs over the top and place on a baking sheet.

Bake until hot through (it should be bubbling around the edges) and lightly browned—about 25 minutes. If necessary, place under the broiler (about 4 inches from the heat) until the top is golden. Serves 4.

Notes:
• This recipe doubles easily to feed a larger group. Use a 13- by 9-inch (3 quart) baking dish.
• If you prefer a looser, saucier version, reduce the quantity of spaghetti to 6 oz.

Quinoa Pilaf with Mushrooms & Walnuts

2011-11-25T22:06:00.000-06:00

For our dinner on the night before Thanksgiving, I felt the need for something light, sustaining and simple. The quinoa pilaf I made that night filled the bill perfectly and was so good I wanted to share it here. Since it was also quick to prepare and didn't dirty too many dishes, it made a perfect holiday weeknight meal.

If you aren't in the habit of preparing main course pilafs, you will find a primer of sorts in a post I wrote over a year ago for a bulgur pilaf. Pilafs are great, not only because they tend to be whole grain-based, but also because they take easily to adaptation and variation. If you keep your favorite grains on hand and are in the habit of regularly stocking up on seasonal vegetables, a pilaf is easy to put together.

The basic components of the quinoa pilaf I made—shallots, garlic, mushrooms, walnuts and parsley—will combine well with all kinds of winter vegetables. I topped ours with some baby Brussels sprouts and the last of the beautiful little white topped turnips from my farmers' market. But if you don't have turnips, you could top the pilaf with the Brussels sprouts and some chunks of roasted winter squash or maybe some roasted carrots. Almost any roasted root vegetable would be good. For a pretty presentation, you could roast some half circles of Delicata squash and then pile the pilaf, followed by the Brussels Sprouts, on top of the squash (as I did in the vegetable medley I posted a few days ago). If you don't have any Brussels sprouts on hand (I always keep Brussels Sprouts around during the fall and winter months—I love them), some cooked kale, spinach or chard—folded into the pilaf—would be good, too.

For us, the quinoa and vegetables really were just the thing for the eve of The Feast. But if a grain pilaf with vegetables doesn't sound like dinner to you, then you could always serve it as a side dish. I think it would go particularly well with salmon (perhaps on a bed of wilted spinach). But it would also be good with chicken...or maybe even some leftover turkey.

Quinoa Pilaf with Mushrooms & Walnuts

1/2 T. olive oil
1/2 T. butter
5 to 6 oz. mixed mushrooms (crimini, oyster, shiitake, etc.), trimmed and sliced 1/4-inch thick or cut into uniform pieces
1 T. olive oil
1 small shallot, finely diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 c. quinoa, well-rinsed and drained
2/3 c. hot chicken stock or water (or turkey stock...I just happened to have some on hand)
1/4 c. toasted walnuts, coarsely broken and tossed with a small amount of olive oil and some salt, if you like.
2 T. chopped parsley

Sauté the mushrooms: Heat a non-stick sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the oil and the butter. Add the mushrooms and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the mushrooms are browned, tender and any liquid that they have given off has evaporated. Transfer the mushrooms to a plate and season with salt and pepper.

oyster and crimini mushrooms

Heat the olive oil in a small saucepan set over moderate heat. Add the shallot and garlic along with a pinch of salt and cook until tender and translucent Add the quinoa and cook, stirring to coat in the fat until hot through. This will take a minute or two. The quinoa should be sizzling and snapping in the hot fat. Add the stock along with a pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered for 15 minutes—or until cooked through. The grain will be translucent and the thin germ coil will be white. Remove from the heat, scatter the mushrooms over the surface of the quinoa and let rest, covered for 5 to 10 minutes. Fluff with a fork, adding the walnuts and parsley. Makes 2 portions. Recipe is easily multiplied.

To prepare the Brussels sprouts (and turnips, if using): Fill a shallow, straight-sided sauté pan that is wide enough to hold the vegetables in a snug single layer with a quarter inch of water. Add some butter and salt and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the Brussels sprouts (and turnips)

and some optional picked thyme and simmer, partially covered and stirring occasionally, until the Brussels sprouts are crisp-tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Remove the lid and boil over moderately high to high heat until water is evaporated and the vegetables are sizzling in the butter and beginning to caramelize, 3 to 4 minutes.

Spoon over the pilaf. For two portions, I used 5 or 6 oz. of each of the Brussels sprouts and the turnips. The Brussels sprouts should be halved and the turnips cut into uniform wedges that are about the same size as the Brussels sprouts halves. For every pound of combined vegetables, use about a tablespoon of butter.

Learning to use a pizza peel and a recipe for Pizza with Mushrooms & Butternut Squash

2011-11-21T23:27:00.001-06:00

We have been eating a lot of pizza lately. Not that pizza doesn't in the normal course of things make regular appearances on our table.... It's a perfect meal for two (just add a salad) and there is usually a left over piece or two for one lucky person at lunch the next day. Pizza is also a great blank canvas upon which to improvise a quick meal from whatever you happen to have in the house. But the reason we have been enjoying it more in recent days is because I have a new toy.... I mean tool. For my birthday this year, I was given a pizza peel and for the past few weeks I have been happily putting it through its paces.

I am a bit embarrassed to admit that I have always thought that using a peel would be tricky....that it would take lots of practice to master the particular flick of the wrist necessary for depositing the uncooked pizza intact onto the hot stone. I was pretty sure that my pizzas would end up looking like accidental calzones or strombolis. So for years I have been perfectly happy with my "peel-less" method: Build the pizza in a pizza pan (or on a baking sheet) and place the pan directly onto the hot stone. When the crust is set (this usually takes less than five minutes), slide the pizza off of the pan and on to the stone. This works very well—producing a lovely crisp crust. I highly recommend it if you don't have a peel. The chief drawback to this method is that if you aren't fast your oven temperature will drop dramatically while you are sliding the pizza off of the pan.

As I have worked with my new peel, I have been so pleased to discover that it is remarkably easy to use: Start by generously flouring the peel—you don't want gobs of flour, but you want the surface to be well-dusted (I actually rub the flour lightly into the peel). Before you put the round of dough onto the peel, make sure that all of the ingredients are on hand and ready to go. You only have a small window (a minute or two) of time before the dough starts to stick to the peel. When you place the rolled out dough onto the peel, gently slide the peel back and forth to make sure the dough isn't sticking. Quickly layer the toppings onto the pizza. Open the oven (which should have been preheating—with the stone—for at least a half hour at 450° to 500°) and hold the paddle just above the stone. In one quick motion, move the peel forward just slightly and then jerk it back, laying the pizza onto the hot stone as you pull the peel out of the oven. Close the oven door and bake the pizza until the crust is golden brown on the bottom (take a peek, using the peel to lift it up) and the toppings are bubbling. This should take about 8 to 12 minutes.

So far I haven't had any disasters...or even any ugly pizzas. In fact, I think my pizzas are better now. The crust bakes more quickly than it did when I used a pizza pan so the toppings don't get quite so dark. I don't know why the fact that my pizzas are now better should surprise me. Obviously the peel and stone are the implements of choice for serious pizza cooks everywhere for a reason. I also don't know why I waited so long to learn how to use a peel. If you love to make pizzas at home, the peel and stone are both worthwhile investments.

A few nights ago we enjoyed a pizza topped with one of my favorite combinations of autumn vegetables: winter squash and mushrooms. The mushrooms are simply sliced and sautéed. The squash can be sliced or diced before it is quickly roasted—if you like you can give the squash a start in a sauté pan before transferring it to the oven. The finished squash should be tender and lightly golden. To build the pizza, give the crust a light smear of herb (rosemary...or maybe sage) and garlic oil, followed by a handful of a nice melting cheese (I had Dubliner on hand), the cooked vegetables, some crumbled goat cheese and more of the melting cheese. Slide the pizza onto the stone. While the pizza bakes, dress some greens with a nice olive oil and some lemon or vinegar and you are done.

Butternut Squash & Mushroom Pizza

10 to 12 oz. butternut squash (half of a small to medium squash)—see note
Olive oil
1 or 2 cloves garlic
pinch of pepper flakes
1 to 2 t. minced rosemary
6 to 8 oz. crimini mushrooms, trimmed and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1 ball of pizza dough (see below), rested
3 oz. Fontina, Gruyère, low-moisture mozzarella or any good melting cheese, coarsely grated
2 oz. Goat Cheese, crumbled (or, simply use another couple of ounces of the melting cheese)

Halve the squash and scoop out the seed and fiber from the cavity. Set aside any extra squash for another use (see note). Peel the remaining squash. Cut the squash into a half-inch dice. Over medium-high heat, warm some olive oil in an oven-proof sauté pan that is large enough to hold the squash in a single layer. Add the squash.

Sauté until the squash is beginning to color. Season with salt and pepper and transfer the pan to a 375° oven. Roast the squash until tender—about 20 minutes. (If you prefer, you may simply slice the squash cross-wise into ¼-inch slices, toss with olive oil, salt & pepper and spread on a baking sheet. Roast in a 450° oven until tender and beginning to brown—about 20 minutes.)

While the squash roasts, peel and mince the garlic. Stir the garlic, along with the pepper flakes and the rosemary, into 1 1/2 T. of olive oil. Set aside.

Sauté the mushrooms: When sautéing mushrooms, do not over-crowd the pan. If necessary, sauté in batches. Heat a non-stick sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add oil to coat the pan, then add the mushrooms. Cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the mushrooms are browned, tender and any liquid that they have given off has evaporated. Transfer the mushrooms to a plate and season with salt & pepper.

Build the pizza: On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a 12-inch circle. Transfer the dough to a pizza pan, baking sheet or pizza peel that has been dusted with flour. Using your fingers, push up the edges of the dough to make a slight rim. Quickly spread a thin layer of the seasoned oil over the crust. Scatter with half of the Fontina. Arrange the roasted squash in an even layer on top of the cheese. Scatter the mushrooms evenly over the squash. Crumble the goat cheese over all and top with the remaining Fontina.

If using a pizza pan or baking sheet, place the pizza in the pan on a pre-heated pizza stone in a pre-heated 450° to 500° oven. Bake until the crust is golden brown on the bottom and the cheese is bubbling, about 12 to 15 minutes. To insure a crisp crust, slide the pizza off of the pan and onto the pizza stone as soon as the crust is set (after 4 or 5 minutes).

If using a peel, slide the pizza directly onto the preheated baking stone. Bake until the crust is golden brown on the bottom and the cheese is bubbling—about 8 to 12 minutes.

When the pizza is done, transfer to a cutting board and cut into wedges and serve.

Note: It is unlikely that you will find a butternut squash that only weighs 10 to 12 oz. If you do, use the whole squash. For a larger squash, use only what you need, saving the remainder for another use (e.g.—roast with butter and honey/brown sugar for a side vegetable, or roast and scoop and purée for soup or baked goods).

Pizza Dough:
1 cup warm water (100º-110º)
1 package (2 1/4 t.) active dry yeast
2 1/2 to 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 T. olive oil
1 t. salt

Combine the water, yeast, and 1 1/2 cups of the flour in a large bowl. Whisk until smooth. Add the oil, salt and another cup of the flour. Stir with a wooden spoon to form a soft dough that holds its shape. Scrape the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and sprinkle with a bit more flour. Knead the dough, adding just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking, until the dough is smooth and springs back when pressed lightly with a finger—about 5 to 10 minutes. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl and cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Let rise until doubled in bulk—about 1 hour. Punch down the dough and turn it onto a lightly floured surface. Divide the dough into two pieces (for 12”-pizzas) and roll into balls. Cover with a towel and let rest for 10-20 minutes. The dough is now ready to be shaped, topped and cooked or frozen.

(Crust recipe adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins)

Variation for a Whole Wheat Crust: Instead of unbleached all-purpose flour, use 1 ½ c. bread flour and 1 to 1 ½ c. whole wheat flour (the new “white” whole wheat flour is a good choice).

Pumpkin Cake with Browned Butter Streusel

2011-11-18T13:25:00.005-06:00

Today, in honor of the upcoming holiday—and for those of you who might not be crazy about pumpkin pie—I thought I would share my favorite pumpkin cake. Unlike most pumpkin cakes it isn't covered in cream cheese frosting (not that there's anything wrong with that). Instead it is a single layer cake topped with a lovely browned butter streusel. I find it to be positively addictive and during "pumpkin season" it is rare for me not to have several slices stashed away in my freezer.

This cake was inspired by a winter squash cake in Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers at Lucques. I have taken the browned butter streusel from her recipe with almost no alteration. I love the flavor browned butter adds....to vegetables (it makes a great simple sauce for asparagus or those Thanksgiving Brussels sprouts)...and to desserts. Earlier this year I posted a Pear & Dried Tart Cherry Crisp recipe that used browned butter in the topping and a couple of summers ago I posted a Butter Pecan Ice Cream recipe that featured browned butter.

If you have never made browned butter, check out the latter of those two posts for detailed instructions. If you have never tasted browned butter, you are in for a treat. It has a wonderful nutty flavor and consequently goes very well in desserts that include nuts. Its flavor is always accentuated by the presence of lemon or salt. One of the things that makes this streusel special is the simple inclusion of a little extra salt. If you are a person who is particularly drawn to the combination of salty and sweet, this streusel will hit all of your taste buttons.

The cake itself is an adaptation of a cake I found in the wonderful little cookbook Camille Glenn's Old-Fashioned Christmas Cookbook. I mention this for a couple of reasons. First of all, I always want to give appropriate credit for a recipe that is not my own—and while I have made enough changes to the recipe that I could get away with calling it mine, I know I wouldn't have come up with the recipe for this cake without her recipe as a starting place.

The other reason I wanted to mention Ms. Glenn's book is because it is a great resource for people who appreciate southern food and southern cooking. Camille Glenn was a food columnist and caterer who ran a cooking school in Louisville for many years. She was widely considered to be an authority on southern cooking. Her other book, The Heritage of Southern Cooking (Workman Publishing), is a treasure trove of reliable and authentic southern recipes. Both books appear to be out of print but would be worth seeking out if you love Southern food.

I don't think it is any secret that I love cake. In particular I love simple, unfrosted cakes—laden with fruit or topped with a streusel. I find these cakes to be eminently versatile. With a blob of whipped cream or a dusting of powdered sugar they can be served for tea. Accompanied by a dollop of mousse, a scoop of ice cream, a pool of stirred custard or a fluffy sabayon...or possibly some fresh or poached fruit...they become a formal dessert. But most importantly (to me at least), they are especially fine served plain...for breakfast.

Such is the case with the pumpkin cake I am posting today. While it would be wonderful as part of your Thanksgiving spread—with whipped mascarpone...maple ice cream....or crème anglaise—I like it best for breakfast. But for those of you who aren't quite ready for something so sweet first thing in the morning—and who would be threatened with bodily harm if you didn't serve pumpkin pie at the big feast—you might consider making this cake and serving it as part of a holiday brunch.

Pumpkin Cake with Browned Butter & Pecan Streusel

Pecan Streusel:
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 c. light or golden brown sugar
1/4 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. salt
4 T. unsalted butter, browned (see below) and cooled
1/2 c. pecans, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

Combine the flour, brown sugar, cinnamon & salt in a medium-sized bowl. Drizzle the butter over and stir with a fork until the ingredients are combined and have formed clumps. Stir in the pecans and chill until ready to use.

Pumpkin Cake:
2 c. cake flour (7 1/2 oz.)
2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ground cloves
1/2 t. nutmeg
1 c. solid pack pumpkin (or use fresh pumpkin purée—well dried)
1/2 c. milk
1 t. vanilla
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 c. light or golden brown sugar
1/2 c. sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature

Grease a 10- by 2--inch round cake pan, line with a round of parchment and grease the parchment. Flour the pan. Set aside.

Sift the dry ingredients together and set aside. In a small bowl, whisk together the pumpkin, milk and vanilla. Set aside.

Using a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter with the sugars until light and fluffy, stopping the mixer once or twice to scrape down the sides. This will take 3 to 5 minutes at medium-high speed.

Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides after each addition. Increase the speed to medium-high and briefly beat until the mixture lightens in color and expands in volume. By hand, fold in half of the dry ingredients, followed by all the liquid ingredients, followed by the remaining dry ingredients.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle the streusel topping evenly over the cake.

Bake in a preheated 350° oven until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean—about 35 to 45 minutes. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 to 15 minutes. Loosen the sides of the cake by running a thin knife around the edge of the pan. Turn the cake out of the pan. Cool the cake, streusel side up, on a wire rack.

Notes:
• To “brown” butter, place the butter in a small saucepan set over medium heat. As the butter begins to sputter and pop, whisk occasionally. The butter solids will begin to turn brown. When the solids are a deep golden brown and the butter has a pleasantly nutty aroma, transfer the butter to another container to stop the cooking process.
• If you don't have a 10-inch round cake pan, this cake may be baked in a 9- by 9- by 2-inch square baking pan. To see what it looks like when baked in a square pan, check out the post at Baking and Boys from a few weeks ago.

Market Inspirations—a Simple Platter of Roasted Vegetables with Kale & Sausage for Sunday Dinner

2011-11-14T22:37:00.003-06:00

I spent my free moments this weekend pulling the remains of the summer annuals out of my garden. I had wanted to spend Sunday afternoon playing/working in the kitchen, but as the weekend wore on, my amount of free time dwindled and garden clean up seemed to take priority. The annuals are usually just a memory by now, but this year—even though it is mid-November—we have not yet had a hard freeze (at least at my house). The annuals have hung on, blooming sporadically, giving me an excuse to let them be for a while longer. But this weekend I noticed they were looking pretty ragged (having endured a few light frosts), so I finally decided it was time. As I worked, I found that the annuals weren't the only things still in bloom; I discovered Shasta daisies, anemones, perennial geraniums...even a clematis....all valiantly putting on a bit of a farewell show.

When I finally made it to the kitchen on Sunday, I really just wanted to get dinner on the table. I had been thinking about my purchases at Saturday's market and the contents of my pantry as I worked, and had decided on a very simple meal of braised kale, roasted delicata squash and Italian sausage. It was not fancy, but it was nourishing, full of flavor and filling. It also seemed like a celebration of Autumn on a plate.

Delicata squash has the most fleeting season of the winter squashes. It is thin skinned (thin enough that the skin is edible), so it isn't a good candidate for long term storage. Now is the time to enjoy it. It has a slightly sweet and nutty flavor. It is perfect for stuffing, but it also makes beautiful rounds or half circles for sautéing or roasting. To prepare it, simply wash it, trim away the stem and blossom ends, halve it lengthwise and remove the seeds. Cut the halves cross-wise into 1/2-inch thick semi-circles.

If you want rings, after trimming the ends, cut the whole squash into cross-wise slices and then remove the seeds from the center of each slice.

For our dinner, I combined the squash with Yukon potatoes and carrots. I dressed them as usual for roasting (olive oil, salt & pepper), adding in a scattering of minced rosemary. If you are not adept at roasting vegetables, take a moment to look at the tutorial I posted last year on how to roast vegetables. The kale that I had from my market was young and tender and consequently easy to cook. I stripped out the center rib, cut it into a fat chiffonade and cooked it (covered) in some garlic infused olive oil. But if you have more mature kale, it will be easier to cook if you blanch it before you add it to the garlic oil. You can find directions for this method on my post from last week on Baked Pasta with Kale & Chicken.

The exact quantities and choice of seasonings in this dish are not so important—to me what is important is the idea....a big rustic plate of layers of braised greens and roasted Autumn vegetables. As I worked in the garden, I arranged and rearranged the possibilities in my mind. At one point I thought about stopping what I was doing long enough to go inside and start a pot of beans. Some cooked beans (Great northern, Cannellini, Garbanzo...), added to the kale along with a small amount of their cooking liquid, would turn this layered vegetable dish into a rustic stew of sorts. They would also be a nice starchy stand-in for the potatoes. The vegetables could be varied according to whatever root vegetables or squash you have on hand (turnips and parsnips seem like particularly good ideas). Just cut everything in roughly half inch thick slabs—the plate will look best with large dramatic pieces. The rosemary could be replaced with sage or thyme...you could even take the dish in a whole different direction by seasoning the roasted vegetables with cumin and smoked paprika. The sausage too could be replaced...maybe with Kielbasa...or a scattering of olives (for a vegetarian variation). The dish could be topped with a poached egg...or a generous spoonful of aïoli..... The more you think about it, the more the possibilities begin to multiply.

Roasted Vegetables with Kale & Sausage

Olive oil
1 lb. Delicata Squash, trimmed, halved lengthwise, seeded and halves sliced cross-wise at 1/2-inch intervals
1/2 lb. small Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed and quartered
1/2 lb. Carrots (2 large), peeled and cut into ½-inch thick slices on the diagonal
minced Rosemary
2 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
hot pepper flakes, to taste
1 bunch Kale (about 6 to 8 oz.), stemmed and cut into 1-inch wide ribbons (wash the kale, but do not spin it dry)
4 oz. link Italian sausage

Place the squash in a bowl with the carrots, potatoes and rosemary and toss with olive oil to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Spread in a snug single layer on a baking sheet.

Place in a 400° to 425° oven. Roast, stirring once or twice, until all of the vegetables are caramelized and tender—about 40 minutes.

While the vegetables roast, heat some olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and pepper flakes and cook until the garlic begins to sizzle—do not let it brown. Add the kale to the pan a handful at a time, turning it with a tongs to coat it with the oil as you do. When all of the kale has been added, season lightly with salt. Cook, covered, until wilted and tender—15 to 30 minutes depending on the kale. Taste and correct the seasoning. Set aside until the vegetables are ready.

Meanwhile, brown the sausage. Transfer to the oven and continue to cook until the juices run clear. Set aside.

When the vegetables are golden and tender, heat the kale through. Reheat the sausage if necessary. Slice the sausage into 6 to 8 fat slices on the diagonal. Arrange 1/2 of the vegetables on two plates. Spread half of the kale over the vegetables. Repeat these two layers, reserving a slice of two of squash to place on top of the second layer of kale. Tuck the slices of sausage amongst the vegetables and kale and serve.

Serves 2 generously. The recipe is easily multiplied for more than two diners.

Fresh Pumpkin Purée (for Baked Goods & Desserts)

2011-11-11T22:31:00.003-06:00

Thanksgiving is less than two weeks away, and there are probably many cooks out there who would like to try their hand at preparing their pumpkin pie with fresh pumpkin. Since making your own pumpkin purée—at least of a quality that is appropriate for baked goods—is not as straightforward of a process as most cookbooks would lead you to believe, I thought now would be a good time to write a short tutorial on how to make pumpkin purée from a fresh pumpkin.

Standard recipes for fresh pumpkin purée go something like this: Cook the pumpkin (by steaming, boiling, baking/roasting). Purée the cooked pumpkin (discarding the skin and seeds)—either in a food processor or by pressing through a sieve or food mill. Use the pumpkin in your pie (or cake, muffin, bread, custard...) just as you would use "solid pack" canned pumpkin.

Almost everyone I know who has dutifully followed these instructions has confessed that they were disappointed in the pumpkin pie (or other dessert) made from the fresh purée. Most of the time the complaint is that it just didn't taste "pumpkin-y" enough. It is with some reluctance of course that people will admit to this, because fresh is always supposed to be better.

The problem people are encountering is a result of a couple of things. First of all, in my experience, the flesh of a pumpkin is quite watery. If you follow the standard recipe (outlined above), you will actually be able to see the water—the fresh purée will bleed and you will notice pools of yellow liquid around the edges of the container or anywhere there is a divot on the surface of the purée.

Obviously if the purée is watery, it will have a watered down taste (it won't be as "pumpkin-y"). The solution to this is to either drain the pumpkin (in a cheesecloth, for example), or to dry it out. I dry the purée out by spreading it in a gratin-style dish (a large, shallow casserole) and placing it in a low oven where the excess water will slowly evaporate.

The second "problem" encountered with fresh pumpkin is the very fact that it is a fresh vegetable. As a living thing that takes its nourishment from its environment, it is naturally greatly affected by its growing conditions. Location, climate and weather are significant. Two identical cultivars, grown in different places (or the same place in different years) will not have the same moisture content, sweetness, starchiness, etc. Pumpkins grown in the New England states or California may indeed be naturally dense and sweet with little excess moisture. It is also entirely possible that I live in a region that just tends to produce watery pumpkins.

No matter where you live, the fresh pumpkins will vary in their water content from year to year and farm to farm. Every time you prepare a fresh pumpkin purée, you will need to do what you do whenever you cook anything: use your senses to produce a final product that looks and behaves the way you want it to. Some pumpkins will need little or no time in the oven to dry....others may need more than an hour. The first time I began to experiment with this process, my goal was to continue to dry the pumpkin until it looked more like the stuff that comes out of the can: thick enough to stand up on a spoon, dry (it shouldn't "weep" liquid) and deeply orange in color. This should be your guide too. The pumpkin you use may never obtain the deep orange color of the canned "solid pack" pumpkin—but it should not have a pale or translucent look to it.

I don't know why I have never seen this issue addressed in any cookbook (maybe I haven't looked at enough cookbooks), but it seems to me that it makes a substantial difference in the taste and consistency of the final purée. Recently I roasted a pumpkin that weighed 4 lbs., 14 ounces. The initial purée weighed 2 lbs. 12 ounces and measured a little over 5 cups. After drying, the remaining purée weighed 1 lb. 13 ounces and measured about 3 1/3 cups. For those doing the math, you will have noticed that there was almost a full pound (2 cups) of excess water in my original purée. If I had used 15 ounces (the standard amount that most pies call for) of the original purée in a pie, about a third of that would have been water.

Canned on the left; Fresh purée, before "drying", on the right

Canned on the left; Fresh purée, after "drying", on the right

By writing this post, I am not trying to discourage anyone from baking with fresh pumpkin. Rather, my goal is to help those who want to use fresh pumpkin in their holiday baked goods to be able to do so with good success. Most recipes for pumpkin baked goods (bread, cake, pie, custard, etc.) have been developed to use the "solid pack" pumpkin that comes out of a can. If you bake with something that has a substantially higher water content than the canned product, your recipe won't perform the way it was intended to, and you will probably be disappointed in the result.

To prepare fresh pumpkin purée to be used in baked goods: Use a sugar pumpkin or something that is specifically labeled "pie pumpkin". Choose one that feels heavy for its size. I prefer to bake or roast pumpkin that will be made into a purée, because this method doesn't introduce any more water. To bake the pumpkin, cut the pumpkin in half and scoop out the seeds.

Place the pumpkin halves cut side down on a greased rimmed baking sheet.

Bake in a 350° oven until very tender (pumpkin may begin to collapse)—about 1 hour, depending on the size of the pumpkin. Remove from the oven and carefully turn the halves over so the flesh is exposed and can "steam dry" a bit.

Allow the pumpkin to cool. Separate the flesh from the skin and discard the skin. Purée the flesh in the food processor or pass through a food mill fitted with the fine disc.

Dry the purée by spreading it in a shallow pan and baking at 300°, stirring occasionally with a heat-proof rubber spatula (scrape the sides well so the purée won't burn around the edges), until the desired consistency is reached—it will darken a little, will no longer "bleed" water and a clear path will remain when you draw a spatula through the purée.

A medium-sized pumpkin (2 1/3 to 2 1/2 lbs.) will produce a 10 to 12 oz., or about 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cups, of purée.

Before I end this post, I wanted to mention that there are lots of recipes on my blog—particularly from last November and December—for things that would make wonderful additions to your Thanksgiving celebrations. I hope you will take a minute to look through some of these old posts as you plan your holiday menu. You will find very traditional recipes (a scratch version of Green Bean Casserole, Brussels sprouts with Chestnuts), traditional ingredients used in not-so-traditional ways (Winter Squash Pizza, Spicy Roasted Sweet Potatoes, Butternut Squash and Bulgur Pilaf, Savory Kale & Chestnut Bread Pudding) and of course lots of baked goods and desserts (Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins, Pumpkin-Cranberry Scones, Pumpkin Pot de Crème, Brandied Apple & Currant Crumb Tart). Additionally, over the next few weeks, I will keep doing my best to post recipes that will fill your tables with good things to eat as you gather with your families and friends this year. Happy Holidays!

Baked Pasta Shells with Kale & Chicken (or Turkey)

2011-11-07T12:58:00.000-06:00

While flipping through the current issue of Martha Stewart's Everyday Food, a baked pasta dish with kale and chicken caught my eye. At first glance it appeared to be an interesting variation on macaroni and cheese. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a baked casserole of pasta shells, chicken, kale and a rather massive quantity (48 oz!) of ricotta. Because the picture had made me hungry for a macaroni and cheese-style dish...and because I didn't have any ricotta in the house—but I did have all the ingredients for a béchamel-bound dish...I made instead the dish I had imagined when I first saw the picture.

The idea of this dish appealed to me for several reasons. I love pasta in all seasons, but I particularly like baked pasta (of the macaroni and cheese variety) during the fall and winter months. Last November I posted an old favorite with cauliflower and tomatoes. I also noticed this recipe because I have been going through my freezer to prepare for the holidays and discovered a small container of shredded roast chicken that I wanted to use up—it turned out to be the perfect amount. (For those of you who don't happen to have roast chicken in your freezer—and who don't want to roast one just for this dish—you could use a purchased rotisserie chicken.) But I really think the thing that made me stop and take a second look at this recipe was the presence of the kale.

I have been enjoying the local kale crop so much this fall. I have brought home a bag almost every week. Chard has been a favorite of mine for years, but it is only in the last several years that I have really discovered kale. Kale is more substantial than chard—both in texture and in taste. It is also very good for you. Perhaps this sounds strange, but eating it makes me feel healthy—not in an "eat this, it's good for you" sense, but in an all around well-being sense of feeling happy, well-fed and well-nourished. In other words, it is a truly satisfying thing to eat. Kale has a slightly bitter, mineral-y taste that I love. It is especially good when paired with starchy foods—potatoes, bread, grains, beans....and pasta.

I'm not sure it was necessary for me to post a recipe that is really just a simple variation of my favorite macaroni and cheese. But it struck me as a rather timely variation. It is, of course, almost Thanksgiving. And although you might not have any roast chicken on hand, you will in all likelihood have leftover roast turkey taking up space in your refrigerator in the very near future.

Baked Pasta with Kale & Chicken

2 T. butter
1 small onion (5 oz.), diced
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 bunch kale, ribs removed, and rinsed in several changed of water
6 oz. (about 1 cup) shredded roast chicken (or turkey)
2 cups whole milk
2 T. butter
3 T. all-purpose flour
6 oz. shell pasta
4 oz. Dubliner plus 2 oz. sharp white Cheddar, coarsely grated—these are the cheeses that I had on hand, but you can use 6 oz. of any combination of good melting cheeses that you like (Gruyère, Gouda, etc.)
1/3 c. (1 oz.) grated Parmesan

Preheat the oven to 350°. Generously butter a 1 1/2 quart gratin or casserole and set aside.

In a medium-sized sauté pan, melt the butter over moderate heat. Add the onion, along with a pinch of salt, and sweat the onions are tender and are beginning to caramelize—bout 10 to 15 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant. Set aside.

While the onions cook, blanch the kale in a pot of boiling salted water until tender. Lift the kale out and spread on a baking sheet to cool. When cool, squeeze out the excess moisture, one handful at a time. Chop coarsely. Add the kale to the cooked onions and toss to combine. Taste and correct the seasoning and set aside.

Prepare the béchamel: In a large saucepan, bring the milk to a simmer; keep hot. In another large saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. When the foam subsides, whisk in the flour. Cook stirring constantly for a few minutes—the roux will be bubbly and straw yellow. Remove from the heat and pour in half of the hot milk, whisking constantly until smooth—it will thicken immediately. Add the remaining milk. Return to the heat and stir constantly until the sauce returns to a simmer. Taste and season as desired with salt and pepper.

Cook the pasta in a large pot of rapidly boiling water seasoned generously with salt. Stir and cook until the pasta is al dente (since it will continue to cook as it bakes with the sauce, it can be left quite firm). Drain the pasta.

In a large bowl, combine the chicken, kale mixture, béchamel and pasta.

Add the cheese and quickly fold in—the cheese does not have to melt. Turn the mixture into the prepared pan. Scatter the Parmesan over the top and place on a baking sheet.

Bake until hot through—about 20 to 25 minutes. If necessary, place under the broiler (about 4 inches from the heat) until the top is golden. Serves 3 to 4

Note: This recipe doubles easily to feed a larger group. Use a 13- by 9-inch (3 quart) baking dish.