Remember all those apples you picked this fall during your apple pickin’ excursion? (Didn’t you gather more than you could possibly eat…?!)

Spiced olive oil apple cake is the perfect way to use some of those fresh (or even old!) apples. And it’s a great dessert to serve at Thanksgiving, particularly because it tastes even better 2 days after you bake it. I don’t know about you, but I love any trick that helps spread out my holiday cooking chores!

This recipe takes me back to my hometown, Raleigh. I’ve told y’all that I had the great fortune of two women who raised me, both of whom are phenomenal cooks & who are still teaching me cooking lessons to this day. Lucille Stallings used to make this incredible apple cake for me when I was a kid. I could not wait until the fall when she would bake her fresh cinnamon apple cake. The house smelled heavenly! And her cake made school bearable knowing there was a warm slice waiting for me when I got home. She always told me it was easy to make, but I didn’t believe that was possible.

Well, darlings, I’m here to tell you she is correct—it is easy to make, & it’s truly delicious! The end result is bites of tasty apple that are cooked but not mushy, a crumb that is pretty small, & a cake that is super-moist & not too sweet. So it’s perfect for after a big Thanksgiving meal or even with your morning coffee. Plus, there’s an added crunch of a toothsome nut!

I made a few tweaks & ran them by Lucille (she tasted my version & gave me her blessing that she actually preferred what i did—whew!). I use less sugar, a bit of cardamom to warm up the spices even more, & some lemon to help the apples pop, but most importantly, I substituted olive oil for the usual vegetable oil. Not only is the olive oil healthy & it creates an even better crumb, but it also tastes nicer than other vegetable oils I’ve tried in this cake. Here the olive oil flavor compliments the apples, spices, & fresh pecans (or walnuts) without tasting the acidity of the olive oil. Lucille loved it & I know you will, too!

So make yourself some spiced olive oil apple cake this holiday season. The taste will take you to my hometown, Raleigh-mazoo!

Smooches, y’all - !

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Spiced Olive Oil Apple Cake

ingredients
3 c ap flour
½ t sea salt
1 t baking soda
½ t cinnamon
½ t allspice
½ t freshly ground nutmeg
¼ t ground cloves
¼ t cardamom
2 eggs
1 ½ c sugar
1 ½ c olive oil (balanced flavor, not too grassy)
2 t vanilla
1 c chopped pecans or walnuts
3 c peeled & diced apples tossed w/ lemon zest + juice of ½ lemon

method
sift dry ingredients & set aside.
blend eggs with sugar. add vanilla & olive oil.
add egg mixture to the dry ingredients & mix. batter will be very stiff. fold in the apples & nuts.

pour into a buttered & floured tube pan & bake for 90 minutes @ 325 degrees. let cake cool before removing from the pan & cover to keep it moist.

serve warm or cold with a dollop of slightly sweetened whipped cream, flavored with vanilla, sweet vermouth, or rum.
best if made 1-2 days ahead of serving + it freezes really well, too!

DEEELISH!

What’s the Least Annoying Kind of Shot to Order a Bar?

Interview by Katie Brown
(Illustration by Ariella Basson for VinePair)

Click here to read

This recipe is inspired by French country fare. Flavoring the apricots with their own pits (plus some extra almonds) deepens the apricot flavor, plus adds a touch of almond flavor. I also use a mild local honey to impart more flavor that compliments the apricots without overpowering with sugary-sweetness like so many fruit preserves.

But, Constance! Those pits contain cyanide! Is this how you plan to dispense of Marc?

Never fear, friends! I’m not planning an Arsenic & Old Lace situation. Yes, the pits of an apricot (or peach or cherry) contain amygdalin, which breaks down into cyanide, but a) you’d have to consume like 70+ kernels to get sick, and b) heating or soaking eliminates the poison. 

The kernel is often referred to as ‘bitter almond’ and it’s used to flavor almond extract & pastes as well as liqueurs like the Italian amaretto & French créme de noyaux. So…why not partake, too? Crack open an apricot pit & check it out. It’s true, it’s true—it tastes like a very potent almond! Plus, I love any recipe that helps me utilize all parts of the fruit. (If you haven’t already guessed, I took the remainder of the pits and began my own brew of bitter almond liquor! More on that soonest.)

The flavor of these apricot preserves reminds me of my childhood. When I was a kid, Santa stuffed our stocking with amardeen, but we just called it “deen.” Amardeen is an apricot paste of apricots, sugar, and olive oil made near Damascus (think the best fruit roll-up ever). And because apricots were not common in the south, the taste of that paste during the holidays was a magical treat!

Gratefully, the fresh apricots at the farmer’s market are absolutely gorgeous this time of year—they look like pure sunshine—and taste so much better than anything you find in a grocery store. Grab a few pounds and preserve their flavor for winter. Of course you can eat preserves with butter & toast, but my favorite is to pair it with almost any kind of cheese for a snack or charcuterie spread. And if you have someone special with whom you’d like to share (my mother comes to mind!), these little jars of sunshine demonstrate the best of your love!

Smooches, y’all - !

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Apricot Preserves w/ Bitter Almond

ingredients
3 lbs fresh apricots
1 ½ c local raw honey
juice of 1 lemon
4 apricot kernels (extracted from the pit)
¼ c raw almonds

method
cut open apricots & remove the pits (if you cut pole to pole, 90 degrees from the “seam” it makes removal of the pits far easier; you can grab the pit without bruising the fruit.) combine apricots halves, honey, & lemon juice in heavy-bottomed sauce pan & stir. 

take 4 pits and crack them open with a nut cracker (or hammer, if necessary). remove the kernel (bitter almond) from inside the pit & chop four kernels along with the almonds. wrap them together in a cheesecloth and add the packet to the pan of apricots. let them sit to macerate for about an hour.

after the maceration period, heat the apricots over medium-low heat. stir regularly for 20 minutes until the apricots start to soften. at this point, you can use a potato masher or the back of a spoon to help break them down more. watch the mixture more carefully as it simmers now to determine consistency and stir often to prevent burning. when the spoon or spatula can “clear space” at the bottom of the pan, the preserves are close to done. check how the preserve drops off your spoon; if it’s thick, you are done. (it will thicken even more after you jar them & the mixture cools.)

remove almond packet & ladle preserves into four 8 or 8.5 oz. prepared jars. if you plan to can, wipe the rims, apply lids & rings, and process in water bath for 12 minutes.

makes scant 5 cups

DEEELISH!

Hand pies?!

I’ve seen all this talk about hand pies in my Instagram feed, and I gotta admit, I really did not understand what the fuss was all about. I remember both Pop Tarts and individual apple pies from Mickey D’s when I was a child (and I rarely ate either of them), so is everyone just waxing nostalgic for those days of childhood turnovers with what we’re now calling hand pies? And, since we’re talking about it, why just a pie for your hand? Why not make the whole damn pie and enjoy more filling in your pie hole?

I suppose that a hand pie is to a whole pie as a cupcake is to a big cake; sometimes it’s more fun or appropriate to the occasion to have an individual serving. Plus, they are super cute!

This particular occasion called for delivery of hand pies to Marc’s retina surgeon’s office. We wanted to thank the doctor and his staff for all the care and talent they gave us this past winter/spring—it was a long scary process, but they helped us through, and Marc’s eye is almost perfect again!

And why not throw in a little humor with the blueberry hand pies and add some googly eye candies? With the way mine cracked on top (I overstuffed my buttery crust cuz I like bluebs so much!), they already looked like little booberry monsters, so attaching eyes on them for an eye surgeon seemed perfectly appropriate to me! Plus, I hear the doctor and staff devoured them within minutes, so that’s a good sign this recipe is a winner!

Y’all, go grab some summer bluebs at your local farmers’ market and pie them! They truly are divine this time of year. These cute, delicious blueberry hand pies are the perfect occasion for a thank you delivery, late summer gathering outdoors, a kid’s birthday party, or really, just to have around the house for a light breakfast or dessert. (Though I seriously doubt they will last longer than a day or so…!)

Enjoy ‘dem bluebs—they are in season & beggin’ to be (hand) pied! See my recipe below.
Smooches, y’all - !

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Blueberry Hand Pies w/ Googly Eyes
makes 8 hand pies

ingredients
3 c fresh blueberries
¼ c + 2 T sugar
3 T ap flour
½ t sea salt
¼ t cardamom
zest of whole lemon
1 T lemon juice
1 egg whisked with 1 t water
raw coarse sanding sugar (optional)
2-crust pie crust (if you make your own pâte brisée, i suggest making it with an egg instead of cold water because of how much you’ll handle the dough to cut into hand pie circles.)

method
gently toss blueberries with dry ingredients, zest & lemon juice. set aside.

roll out your dough on floured surface (or on parchment) and cut into eight 5 ½-6” individual circles. if you need to reshape & reassemble dough to get all 8 circles (and you will), just rechill dough in-between roll outs. place your 8 circle rounds on 2 different parchment-lined baking pans & chill.

preheat oven to 425°.
whisk egg with 1 t water in small bowl. set aside.

pull out one pan of 4 rounds. place a large spoonful of the mixture onto each round. (it’s just shy of 2T if you don’t want them to burst. if you don’t mind some cracking & want more bluebs to pastry ratio like i do, it’s closer to 3T.) then brush the edge of half the circle with egg wash & fold over other half to seal each round into a half-moon shape. use the back of a fork to crimp and seal. if you see any slight cracks in the crescent of your dough, it’s okay to smooth those out.

brush each hand pie with egg wash and sprinkle with raw sanding sugar. with a sharp knife, cut 2 vents on top of each pie. return the finished pan to the refrigerator to rest for about 15 minutes before baking & repeat this process for the second pan of 4 rounds.

bake all eight pies together on a parchment-lined baking pan or bake in rounds of two.
bake at 425° for 10 minutes.
turn temperature down to 375° and bake for another 10-12 minutes until filling bubbles & crust is golden.

if you want your filling to set so you can really hold these pies by HAND, let the pies cool before eating!

if you want googly eyes, procure all-sugar eye candies from your favorite baking supplier & affix with sugar glue. impress your 6-year old or your eye doctor!

DEEE-LIGHTFUL!

“I was walking along, minding my business, when love came and hit me in the eye…”
-Nat King Cole, Orange Colored Sky

Sometimes you go to the market with a plan in mind, but sometimes the market plans you. Then flash! bam! Alakazam! you just know “this is it, this is it, i-t IT!” (Can’t get that Nat King Cole out of my mind)

IT is a flash of culinary brilliance, and in this case, we have Marc to thank for it.

While I was at the Union Square Farmer’s Market gathering some veggies, Marc was off roaming the market for a protein to make for supper that night. We were there on a slower day, so our protein options were surprisingly limited, but he spotted our favorite farmers from Hudson Valley Duck Farm. Yay! So Marc bought two magret de canard and came back to ask if I was up for making duck (interesting how he asked after he bought them!). As it happens, just a few minutes earlier, I found myself with loads of fresh summer blackberries around me and bought a few pints. In a flash, I thought, why not put them together?! I’d never made a blackberry sauce before, but I know zie duck loves to be paired with zie fruit.

This dish is actually SUPER-simple & takes no time to make, so it can be served as a delicious casual weekday meal or Sunday supper, but because it tastes so special & looks very elegant, you could also serve it at your next dinner party & wow your guests.

What I love about duck, and particularly duck breast, is that it’s easier than a steak to sear & cook well. And the meat is so very juicy & tender & rich tasting. After seasoning both sides of your breast with sea salt, it’s important that you start your sear skin-side down in a COLD PAN. The cold pan will ensure that you get a crispy sear & render the fat because it will gradually warm up & release the fat.

As for the blackberry sauce, please make sure you use those delightful brown bits to help your sauce in this one-pan meal! The sauce is both sweet & savory and will take no time to make as you allow your duck to rest before carving.

If you are serving the dish & calling it “magret de canard” then perhaps you’d prefer to strain your sauce as the French do. But, no offense to the fabulous French, I really love this as a more rustic sauce & truly enjoyed the bits of berry with each bite of duck.

I hope you give this one a whirl! I promise it will not disappoint, & you’ll feel like a fancy super-star who can do it all with ease.

Smooches, y'all - !

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Seared Duck Breast w/ Summer Blackberry Sauce

ingredients:
2 duck breasts
1 c fresh blackberries
sea salt
2 t light brown sugar (i used maple sugar)
½ t cardamom
¼ c brandy
1 T apple cider vinegar
2 T butter

method:
pat duck breasts dry with paper towel & season skin (fat) side with sea salt. place skin-side down in a cold pan over medium to medium-high heat. sprinkle flesh side with sea salt.

let them cook for 5-7 minutes until the skin is brown & crisped. if you hit that sweet fat-render spot, you’ll find a lot of duck fat in your pan. briefly remove the breasts & pour off some of that fat in a heat-safe glass bowl. (save that duck fat for some potatoes, please!) then turn over the breasts back int the pan & let them cook for another 3-4 minutes.

let those breasts rest for 10 minutes while you make the blackberry sauce!

for the blackberry sauce:
toss in 1 cup fresh blackberries along with the brown sugar, cardamom & a pinch of sea salt. deglaze the pan with ¼ cup of brandy & cook down the blackberries over medium-low heat. smash down the berries as they start to soften & stir the sauce. add 1 T apple cider vinegar & TASTE your sauce! if you want more sweetness (always depends upon the berries), add some sugar to taste. then finish the sauce with 2T butter & stir.

slice duck breast at a diagonal & spoon over blackberry sauce to serve.

DEEE-LIGHTFUL!

Happy New Year, y’all - !

2020 was a dilly, though I feel so much gratitude for how folks stepped up to help each other, particularly here in New York. I also have a feeling we’re headed into LUCKY ‘21! In the meantime, we’re all still finding small ways to bring joy into our home life, & one of those ways for me is eating pancakes for dinner!

As a kid I remember New Year’s Eve as a very adult night—my parents stayed up late with friends, I lit sparklers in the back patio, & sometimes my mother would make breakfast for after Midnight snacks. It was sublime & I felt very decadent eating pancakes, bacon, & grits after dark!

The typical time my mother made a big breakfast was after church on Sundays & her homemade pancakes were THE EVENT! I figured her pancakes were what the Lord meant when the Israelists were provided with manna. In a word, mama’s pancakes were heaven! I was filled with glee watching her prepare the batter & pour those babies on the buttered skillet.

But why not make pancakes any time of day, any day of the week? Why wait until Sunday or holidays, especially these days? 

Pancake batter is easy & in my buttermilk recipe, a tad healthier. I add sweet mascarpone (that delicious Italian cream cheese), hence I use less sugar. Plus I prepare a simple warm berry compote to top these fluffy tender circles of pure joy (if you prefer more sweetness, you can always add extra maple syrup!). And if you have access to a local flour, I highly recommend using that, too. The better your ingredients, the better the flavor. Always.

For my money, I think hotcakes (along with a side of prosciutto perhaps?) make any weeknight dinner decadent & fun. And because these aren’t sweet hotcakes, you could also smear a little mascarpone on top & add some smoked salmon & chives for a savory option. 

The recipe below makes enough for two & it easily doubles or triples for more.

So I hope you try these mascarpone pancakes, & let those pancake angels sing!

Smooches, y'all - !

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Anytime Mascarpone Pancakes with Berry Compote

pancake ingredients:
1 c flour
1 t baking powder
½ t baking soda
1 T sugar
1 egg + 1 egg white
1/3 c mascarpone
1 c buttermilk
½ t vanilla
1 T lemon juice
lemon zest
sea salt
+ butter (clarified works even better)

compote ingredients:
1½ pints berry mix—blueberry, raspberry, blackberry
½ t cardamom
2 T sugar
1 T lemon juice 

pancake method:
sift together first four dry ingredients & set aside.
whisk the eggs with a large pinch of sea salt until frothy.
add mascarpone, buttermilk, vanilla, lemon juice & zest & whisk until smooth.
make a well in your dry mix & slowly add your wet ingredients.
stir to combine, but don’t overmix—some small lumps are just fine.

LET BATTER REST for at least 30 minutes!

while batter rests, prepare the berry compote:
add berries, cardamom, sugar & lemon juice to a heavy saucepan over medium heat.
stir occasionally & cook the mixture until berries break down & juices thicken, approximately 30 minutes.

cooking:
heat your griddle/skillet over medium heat & brush butter on top. (if your butter quickly browns, your heat is too high. wipe off & start again.)
pour or ladle your batter onto the buttered surface.
when small bubbles appear all over the surface of your hotcake, flip & cook for about 2 minutes longer until lightly browned.
makes 8 pancakes

serve these fluffy golden circles of love with warm berry compote & maple syrup.
ENJOY!

Just last week the GrowNYC at Union Square posted that farmers were bringing in their chestnuts. Hot Dog! (or, Hot Nut!) It has become one of my biggest joys to follow the seasons at the farmer’s market—now is the time for chestnuts, apples, quinces, persimmons, pumpkins and fall tomatoes. Delightful! It’s really something to observe the cycle for seasonal healthy foods harvested by these amazing farmers. And this week I present two autumnal chestnut recipes for you to enjoy—crème de marrons (chestnut cream) served with crêpes and a simple roasted chestnut flambé.

I never ate a chestnut growing up in the South. I heard Nat King Cole sing of them, and always wondered what that cozy-sounding nut tasted like. When I first moved to New York, there were vendors on the streets selling roasted chestnuts in the fall and winter and I thought “Ooooo! Look at this! Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” as the song goes.

But in the past 10 years, the NYC chestnut vendors have faded, with only a few selling them during the holidays, mainly for tourists. It also seems that a lot of folks here in the States don’t really have a taste for chestnuts. There may be a reason for that, which makes me a little sad, particularly because I think this sweet nut meat tastes marvelous!

Until recently, I wasn’t aware of the history of the American Chestnut tree. Many of you probably know the ecological value of the mighty tree, how it succumbed to the blight, and how it devastated most of Appalachia. But if you want to hear its fascinating history, go here to learn more of how we lost the prolific American Chestnut tree population at the beginning of the 20th century.

Native Americans feasted on the American chestnut long before European and Asian varieties were introduced to this country, and alas, it was the Asian variety planted in New York in 1904 that brought the blight to the eastern part of our country. They say that the American chestnut is smaller and sweeter than its brethren from Italy & China, and if that’s true, I hope I get to taste one one day, given the impressive efforts of scientists at the American Chestnut Foundation. The foundation works to educate us, breed a hybrid that can withstand the blight, and nurse saplings that grow from old roots—all in support of healthy forests, wildlife, and our global ecosystem.

But for now, what we find here are nuts primarily from Chinese and Italian chestnut tree varietals. Tim Stark, founder of Eckerton Hill Farm, tells me “there are chestnut trees all over the place here in Pennsylvania. No two trees produce the same chestnuts [and] they are so sweet you can eat them raw, although roasting is still a good idea.” Tim isn’t wrong! The sweet meat from his chestnuts are divine and even though I present a couple of simple recipes this week, eating them roasted from the oven is a wonderful treat and harkens me back to when I first moved to New York.

The chestnut provides us with a global connection, too. It’s a valuable crop in Europe, China, and Japan and the starchy nut is often substituted for potatoes in European, Asian, and African fare. The chestnut flexes from savory to sweet, and it’s a substantial nutritious snack. This mighty nut packs in nutrients like vitamin C, magnesium, & potassium and its combination of fiber & starch make it filling. In fact, the chestnut was considered “free food” as one can go into a forest and gather chestnuts from the ground. I often dream of doing just that at a grove in Tuscany in the autumn one day! (Someone will have to teach me how to gather without sticking my hands with the burs surrounding the brown nuts!) You can certainly find pre-roasted and freshly packed chestnuts at the store, but I encourage you to try roasting your own. It is far tastier (especially when “naked”) than its store-bought counterpart.

Both the French and Italians make a sweetened chestnut paste that can be spread on anything from toast, to crepes, to fruit, and it can top your daily yogurt or ice cream treat. The French call the paste crème de marrons and taking a cue from Rachel Khoo, I add heavy cream to the marrons and spread the nutty creamy infusion on crêpes de froment (white flour crêpes for sweet fillings). But if you want the traditional non-dairy chestnut paste, don’t add the cream! Instead add simple syrup, perhaps some Cognac or Armagnac, and puree that mixture for the creamy chestnut paste.

If you want to add a simple sweet touch to the chestnut, flambé the roasted nuts with an aged rum, Cognac or Armagnac and a couple of tablespoons of sugar. Cook that down to a yummy syrup that beautifully coats the whole roasted sweetmeat. Pair the flambéed chestnuts glazed with the sweet sauce with the same spirit you used to flambé or with a nice glass of red wine or port and taste the warmth of autumn. 

Both of these are light desserts that also taste rich and luxurious, largely due to the starch content of the chestnut. When you puree the chestnut cream, in particular, you’ll see how velvety the texture becomes. And both of these recipes really feature the flavor of the chestnut, which I find can get lost with some chestnut stuffing, soup, or baked goods recipes.

I hope you enjoy gathering a bag of chestnuts from your local farmer or elsewhere and taste this sweet sweet meat! Taking a bite takes us across a long history and world culture, and inevitably, it connects all of us.
I cannot think of a better metaphor for the connection we need these days. Here’s to that ol’ chestnut!

Let’s get real here, people! I was never a big fan of okra when I was a kid.

99.9% of the time I have high praise for my mother’s cooking. But there was ONE DISH, one nasty slimy 1% dish that she made on Halloween—it was okra baked in a tomato-meat sauce & it was AWFUL! Talk about SLIME before anyone was sliming anyone. And somehow, we had to find a way to slide that stuff down our throats before we were allowed to go trick or treat. (I’m sure my mother thought it was the one time she would get us to eat okra!) But the memory alone makes my face frown. Yuk!

But then gumbo came into my life. My opinion of okra completely changed when my mother first starting making us seafood gumbo in the summer. She found an old Southern recipe and some gumbo filé, and the rest is history. Combining crabmeat and okra and tomatoes in that light sauce led me straight to okra heaven! Now I understood cooked okra’s tasty thickening magic, and I’m most grateful my mother found that recipe.

But I’m gonna go out on a limb and tell y’all that what I learned this week from my good friend, Roswell, and his mother treats okra even BETTER!! Hailing from Covington, Louisiana, the Pogue family has a long history working in the restaurant industry, and Mrs. Pogue is a phenomenal cook. She taught me her secret of how to put okra into a gumbo with ZERO slime, so I know you’ll want to watch how to do that! Plus, I found some gorgeous tender heirloom red okra (though I think it looks like a gorgeous burgundy) at the Union Square greenmarket thanks to Norwich Meadows Farm. So this week’s recipe for a Chicken & Duck Sausage Cajun Gumbo is courtesy of Bettie Pogue’s wonderful cooking lesson.

First things first—okra is the reason we gumbo! The word gumbo is derived from the African word for the vegetable which is kingumbo. We’re still in okra season, if you can find someone growing okra in their garden or a farmer at your local market. It’s a fun fuzzy vegetable and the more tender it is, the easier it is to cook. A tender okra has flexibility or some give when you press on it. Of course when you start to slice it into circles, you’ll wonder why this plant wasn’t used for glue instead of consumption!

Then there’s the roux, which is the slow browning of flour with fat. Mrs. Pogue uses peanut oil, and let me tell you folks, provided there is no peanut allergy in your house, I beg you to try the peanut oil! The aroma alone whilst stirring the roux is phenomenal, plus I truly believe it gave my gumbo the basis for it’s multi-layered flavor profile. It definitely was the difference maker in terms of the overall flavor. As to making roux, there are many options from choice of fat—drippings, oil, shortening, butter—to how you brown—in the oven, microwave, or crockpot. But I think it’s fun to stick to the old method and slowly heat and stir the mixture in a skillet and watch the color turn from light caramel to pecan to coffee. Per Bettie’s instructions, I stopped at pecan, but I think I could have taken it even a bit further (to the color of the pecan shell?), and it would have been closer to Bettie’s pecan color. For my money, provided you don’t stop stirring at light caramel and you don’t get to burned charcoal roux, anything in between is pretty darn delicious in your gumbo.

Lastly, there’s the filé. The word filé is French, but the powder from ground sassafras leaves traces back to the Choctaw who brought their sassafras powder to the French Market in New Orleans. Filé is also used as a thickener in the gumbo, and if there’s no okra around (fresh or frozen), filé becomes the substitute. One big thing to note: do not put filé into your gumbo until the very end! Otherwise, the filé breaks down and becomes bitter if met with a boil.

The remaining components of gumbo are the Holy Trinity (chopped onions, peppers, celery) + garlic, a protein combination of your choosing (seafood, shellfish, fowl, meat, sausage), tomatoes, parsley, & Cajun seasoning (which, at the very least, must include some Cayenne pepper). And then of course, there’s the rice that’s cooked separately to accompany your gumbo.

There are as many variations of gumbo as there are stars in the sky, but the result, my friends, is divine! As Bettie says, it take practice & learning to perfect your gumbo (and I found a procedure or two that I may shift in the next go-round), but seriously, there are few dishes I’ve made that upon my first try I knew was a winner, and largely due to the secrets Bettie shared with me, this recipe is one of them! I cannot think of anyone it won’t please & you can serve it for lunch, a main course at dinner, or a cup as a lovely warm appetizer. Oh, and one of the best things about gumbo is that the flavors get even better as it ages, so you can make it ahead of time for a dinner party! (When you reheat, you may need to add a little water to your gumbo.) Lastly, PLEASE make a big pot because I promise you, it will disappear quickly! My mouth is watering again…

I hope you enjoy watching our Gumbo segment on IGTV or FB; please let us know your thoughts.

Smooches, y’all - !

Okay, I know I’m throwing down the gauntlet here, but my mother makes the BEST pimento cheese! She would NEVER involve cream cheese in her mix nor would she ever buy it pre-made from the store. Hers is tangy and spreadable and there are no globs of mayonnaise to be seen (y’all know I’m an anti-mayo-ite!). When Marc first came to North Carolina to visit one summer, he spotted a jar of my mother’s pimento cheese in the refrigerator, and let me tell you he was most dubious when my mother asked if he wanted a pimento cheese sandwich. What!?! A sandwich of bright orange shredded cheese spread?! To his utter surprise, her pimento cheese on toasted bread won him over, and he now requests pimento cheese from her every summer. Another Yankee conversion!

Or is it?

The history of pimento cheese is beautifully explained here. Though Southern cooks made it their own after WWII, its origins are based in New York some 70 years prior. So it looks like Marc’s love for pimento cheese is a return to his roots!

I know my mother’s recipe and have made it often, but I’ve also adapted another from Bill Neal that I quite enjoy. It provides Marc and me with some spreadable variety over the course of the year! We posted my version of Bill’s recipe for this week’s Wednesday Fare on Instagram, which includes Parmigiano-Reggiano, bourbon (!), + I add Crystal Sauce—my favorite New Orleans hot sauce.

Serve pimento cheese as a sandwich—grilled or cold, on classic Ritz crackers, on celery, or—my favorite—on top of fried green tomatoes. Pimento cheese is easy to make, it’s perfect for a luncheon (indoors or outdoors), or a snack, and because I don’t make it with a lot of mayo, it travels well, too. If you host a gathering and want a simple & substantive Scooby Snack, put out some pimento cheese on crackers and celery and watch it disappear!

Check out our recipe @ConstanceCooks on IG & leave us a comment over there to let us know what you think! If you’ve made pimento cheese before, how does this one stack up? And if you’ve never tried, I double-dare you to dip your celery in this gorgeous orange concoction!

Years ago I would wander around Little Italy and adjacent Chinatown on days when there weren’t as many tourists so I could get more of a feel for what locals sought at their neighborhood markets. Chinatown, in particular, was always interesting to behold given that I am not well-versed in all of the ingredients used in Chinese cuisine. But I wanted to learn.

I’m always mesmerized by the myriad rows of dried fish, mushrooms, and colorful herbs lining the streets at many of the Chinese markets, but entering a new recipe utilizing those ingredients would require more skill and knowledge of cultural recipes than I possess. But fresh vegetables? Vegetables I know! So one late summer day I passed by a market selling what looked like a light green blown-up cucumber. I asked the vendor “what is the green vegetable?” and he responded “bitter melon.” “How do you prepare a bitter melon?” “We make bitter melon soup,” he responded. “It’s delicious.”

Okay, I’m in! I’m thinking, “it must be a green kind of cantaloupe possible cucumber mix and the melon soup it yields will be delightful and refreshing.” I bought several and ran home to search for a recipe for bitter melon soup. (This was before the days of smart phones.) Well, I’m not sure if it was the recipe I found (there were not many posted) or my culinary skills or both, but what I ended-up making was inedible! I was so disappointed. It definitely was NOT a cool green cantaloupe soup (it’s actually a warm soup!), and I was not successful in finding a balance with the ingredients. (If you watch the “Bitter Melons” pilot episode, you’ll see a version of the terrible tasting soup I made inspired by my first attempt.)

Since that time, you can find many more posts on-line about the wonders of the bitter melon. I’m sure there are more recipes for the traditional soup, too. I suspect that one may want to pre-salt the melon to draw out the water along with some of the bitterness. I definitely did not do that the first time. Oops! Regardless, I think I prefer to learn how to make bitter melon soup from someone who has a family recipe. That would be fun!

In the meantime, I’ve learned a bit more about the melon. First of all, it’s not a melon. (No wonder my cantaloupe musings were off-base!) The vegetable is a bitter gourd or squash, and I read that in regions of Asia, developing a taste for its bitterness is a “rite of passage” from childhood to adulthood. I’m not sure of the validity of that statement, but if there is a young person out there who truly enjoys the bitter taste of this melon, that’s an adolescent I want to meet! (The kid probably sucks on grandmother’s alum in the pantry, too!) That said, there is a tradition in Chinese culture to find strength in their ability to “chi ku” or “eat bitterness.” Chi ku is a phrase that means to persevere through hardship without complaint.

There are two different varieties of the gourd: Chinese and Indian. The Chinese variety (found in Chinatown from mid-summer throughout the fall) is typically long, pale green, with smooth long bumps on the rind and rounded ends. Many farmers are growing the Indian variety now (I find these at our local greenmarket and are in the photo you see), and these are shorter, usually a darker green, there are the ends are pointed, and the rind has jagged pointy spikes. Many claim that the bitter melon has medicinal properties, noted especially because it is reported that it lowers blood sugar.

What I find most compelling is that the bitter melon contains momordicin, which is a substance similar to quinine. No wonder the extracted juice from this gourd worked so well with my bitter melon cocktail concoction! Quinine produces the bitter flavor we find in tonic water, and there are several aperitifs which also contain quinquina, many of which are brought to you by our friends at Haus Alpenz. (I will definitely explore some of these bitter liquors in future posts. Stay tuned!)

I hope we’ve intrigued you. Bitter melons are currently in season so I hope you’ll to go to a Chinese market or your local farmer who grows the more unusual and grab a few. Also, if you follow our bitter melon recipe (found here), I guarantee your shaken bitter melon cocktail will delight. It’s so well-balanced, you will not besmirch the bitterness of the momordicin. In fact, you may even feel healthy! (After all, the cocktail is a beautiful citron green…)

Smooches, y’all - !

Constance

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]]>Binge Watch our First Twenty Segments on IGTV!InterviewConstance ZaytounFri, 14 Aug 2020 22:54:04 +0000https://www.constancecooks.com/blog/way-off-the-record-interview-with-constance-and-marc5f06348de838353478c2da41:5f0634b14519a3375cf087a8:5f303a1709e14e53cba53c18We have some fun with our good friend Scott Ambrosino on his podcast/youtube channel Way Off The Record. And Boo and Tito Le Pod Chat make sweet sweet love.

A classic Italian liqueur with a flavor profile and color similar to that of yellow chartreuse, Strega delivers plenty of herbaceous notes, such as saffron, mint, and juniper. Its unique taste blend lends itself well to cocktails (especially if you enjoy bold flavors), and bartender Constance Zaytoun of Le Zie Trattoria in New York City likes to balance the botanical presence of Strega and vermouth with homemade rhubarb water, which “provides the means to taste the true essence of rhubarb. Plus, it’s a gorgeous pink color.”

Ingredients:

• 1 oz white vermouth (Zaytoun prefers C. Comoz Vermouth Blanc)

• .5 oz Liquore Strega

• 1.5 oz rhubarb water*

• .5 oz fresh lime juice

Method:

1. Add all ingredients to a shaker and shake to combine.

2. Strain into a glass over ice and garnish with rhubarb and mint.

*Rhubarb Water:

1. Roughly chop 1 lb of rhubarb.

2. Boil 2 cups of water and pour over the chopped rhubarb. Cover and allow to sit overnight.

3. Strain rhubarb-infused water into a saucepan and add ⅓ cup raw honey and the juice of .5 a lemon. 

4. Simmer until honey dissolves, then remove from heat and store in the refrigerator until cool.

originally featured in The Manual, by Taylor Tobin