Cooking Books

Penne with Broccoli Rabe and Pancetta

2012-01-26T18:11:00.001+01:00

I'll admit that I was a little nervous when I made this a couple of weeks ago while still in NYC. I had a feeling that R was not going to necessarily appreciate the broccoli rabe, since he's tried it before and hated it. But as with endive or mustard greens, I've always found the bitterness to be appealing. Then again, I also find marathons and long-distance triathlons appealing, so perhaps my propensity for a little self-punishment (if we're considering bitter vegetables to be in the same category) is a clue.

As a safety precaution, since I didn't think I'd be able to fully trust R's opinion in the matter, I made this dish when I was planning on feeding a good friend, an innocent bystander, with little knowledge of R's incredibly picky palate. So at least you can be confident that the vote about this meal was two-to-one, with the bitter-vegetable lover's winning out in the end.

By way of explanation. R didn't hate this. He said it was 'okay', and trust me that he would have used a stronger descriptor if he'd had any real feelings about it. If he'd hated it, for example. J, the guinea-pig friend, and I ate it up. Then I continued eating it up for lunch the next day without even offering to share. The power of a bitter vegetable.

Penne with Broccoli Rabe and Pancetta
Adapted from Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray's River Cafe Cookbook Green

2 large bunches broccoli rabe
1 pound box penne
1/3 pound pancetta, have your butcher finely slice it, then you can julienne it at home
Olive oil for the pan
3 garlic cloves, passed through a press
1 2 pound can of peeled plum tomatoes, or close to that weight it doesn't have to be exact
Salt and pepper to taste
Zest of 1 lemon, be sure to wash before you zest
Handful of parsley, chopped
150 grams Pecorino Romano cheese, grated

Heat the olive oil in a 10" skillet over medium heat. Cook the garlic along with the pancetta until fragrant and lightly browned. In the meantime, strain the canned tomatoes from their juices, retaining half of the juice. Add the tomatoes and the reserved juice to the pan and season with salt. Cook until the juices are quite reduced, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, 20-30 minutes.

Tear the leaves and buds from the stems of the broccoli rabe. Wash and tear into pieces. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil and plunge the broccoli rabe into the water for 5 minutes. Drain, then put into a bowl along with the lemon zest, the parsley and a good coating of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Bring another large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the penne for the amount of time indicated on the package. Drain and mix into the tomato sauce, then add the broccoli rabe mixture and season again with salt and pepper. Toss to be sure everything is well-coated and serve with the freshly grated cheese.

Applesauce Jellies

2012-01-13T18:46:00.000+01:00

I've been getting more into candy making lately (I've always been into eating it), and I guess it's been fairly obvious because when a review copy of Nina Wanat's new book Sweet Confections: Beautiful Candy to Make at Home arrived at my apartment, I was ecstatic. First of all, it came tied up with a red and white string, literally (if you're humming songs from the Sound of Music right now, you're not alone). Not just a book on sweet confections, but a sweet confection in itself.

Secondly, as most food-blog enthusiasts would know, when the photo credits are given to Diane Cu and Todd Porter, also known as the White on Rice Couple, they're bound to be stunning. Every single recipe has been photographed, more than once, and in large, full-page color. The photos are put to especially good use at the beginning of the book, where ingredients and equipment are introduced. Particularly helpful is the temperature chart, which demonstrates visually what many books only describe: the precise look of each stage of cooked sugar, from thread to caramel. Equally useful are explanations of why some cooked sugar preparations should be stirred and some should not, instructions for dipping confections in tempered chocolate and a step-by-step guide for caramelizing sugar.

I made a couple of recipes from the book, including an amazing Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Fudge and these Applesauce Jellies. I carted a tray-full of the amber beauties home with me for Christmas and passed them around, waiting for each of my consecutive relatives to try one before declaring (after the requisite expressions of how delicious they were) that I had made them. If my family wasn't impressed, they did a great job pretending otherwise.

I'm getting less and less intimidated by sugar, and much of that has to do with having purchased a candy thermometer. It's such a a simple piece of equipment to use and takes all of the guess-work out of candy making. Most of the recipes in this volume call for one, so if you're really thinking of getting into the world of sugar, it's a purchase you won't regret. Wanat likens these treats to caramel apples, but you might also think of them as quite firm Turkish delights. And although she calls the walnuts optional, I personally wouldn't leave them out.

Applesauce Jellies
Excerpted (with permission) from Nina Wanat's Sweet Confections: Beautiful Candy to Make at Home (Lark Publishing; September, 2011)

As these jellies cook, the sugar caramelizes just enough to make them reminiscent of the autumnal thrill of caramel apples.

YOU WILL NEED

8x8-inch baking pan
Plastic wrap
Small bowl
3-quart saucepan
Heatproof silicone spatula
Candy thermometer
Chef's knife

Oil for the pan
2 tablespoons sour cream
2 1/4 cups applesauce, divided
3 tablespoons (3 envelopes) unflavored gelatin
2 3/4 cups sugar
2/3 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped (optional)
1 1/4 teaspoons vanilla extract
Pinch salt
2 cups cornstarch or powdered sugar for coating

METHOD

Line an 8x8-inch baking pan with plastic wrap and coat evenly with oil.

Combine sour cream and 1 1/4 cups of the applesauce in a small bowl. Sprinkle the gelatin on top, and stir until smooth.

Boil the remaining 1 cup of applesauce and the sugar over medium heat in a 3-quart saucepan, stirring occasionally with a heatproof spatula until the sugar dissolves. Add the gelatin mixture in several additions, stirring to dissolve between each. Stir the boiling mixture constantly and gently until it reaches 224F, about 25 minutes.

Remove from the heat, and let sit 5 minutes. Stir in the walnuts, if using, vanilla, and salt, and pour into the prepared baking pan. Let cool until room temperature, and then refrigerate overnight.

Cut into 1-inch squares with a chef's knife. Roll in the cornstarch or powdered sugar. Store in an airtight container.

Variation:
Cinnamon Applesauce Jellies: Add 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon to the gelatin mixture.

Rødgrøt med Fløte, Norwegian Red Fruit Pudding

2012-01-09T02:48:00.003+01:00

In this, the second post in my review of the new cookbook Gudrun's Kitchen: Recipes from a Norwegian Family (the first post, with more specific information on the book, can be found here), I have to admit right upfront that I committed the cardinal sin of cookbook reviews. I made a fundamental substitution which certainly changed the final dessert.

But, you see, I had my heart set on this recipe. A pudding made of stewed red fruit, thickened with a little cornstarch and crowned with billowy whipped cream. The problem was that I just could not, despite my best efforts, find red currents: fresh or frozen. So in a moment of bravado, I substituted cranberries, which is not such a far-out move. For one thing, they're sweet-tart, just like red currents. They're red, they grow in Norway (where they're called tranebær) and this is precisely the moment when they're available thanks to the holiday season.

It's meant to be served in glasses, but I poured mine into a large souffle pan. After a stay in the refrigerator overnight, the pudding had firmed up enough to be cut with a knife into pretty little slices with a layer of whipped cream on top. However, if you serve it closer to when you make it the consistency is more pudding-like and it can be layered into a glass for spooning. I actually quite liked it with the cranberries, but am definitely planning on making it again next summer when red currents come back into season. I'd imagine that you could use the same technique on a whole slew of fruits if you're willing to travel a bit from the original recipe. Strawberries and rhubarb both come to mind, since they would maintain the beautiful jewel-like red that makes the pudding such a stunner.

Rødgrøt med Flote (Red Fruit Pudding)
Reprinted with permission from Gudrun's Kitchen: Recipes From a Norwegian Family, by Ingeborg Hydle Baugh, Irene O. Sandvold, Edward O. Sandvold and Quinn E Sandvold, 2011. Wisconsin Historical Society Press.

This is the pudding that Erik and Quinn loved so much, and after eating it they enjoyed sticking out their red tongues. Our father asked the grocery store to stock Junket Danish Pudding, but we can no longer fin Junket Danish Pudding or any other brand in the grocery store. Luckily, this recipe doesn't take too long to prepare.
If fresh fruit is unavailable, use canned or frozen raspberries and currants. Don't forget to allow enough time for the pudding to chill and set. Serves 5 to 6, with sweetened whipped cream.

1 cup fresh red currants (I've already copped to using cranberries)
1 cup red raspberries
1 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 stick cinnamon
1 cup water, divided
3 tablespoons potato flour or cornstarch

Combine fruit, sugar, salt, and cinnamon with 1/2 cup water and cook in a covered pan over medium-high heat for 15 to 20 minutes. Allow mixture to cool, then strain fruit carefully to remove the seeds, reserving the juice. Return juice to heat. In a separate bowl, stir remaining 1/2 cup water into the potato flour or cornstarch to make a smooth paste. Add paste to the hot juice and stir constantly until the pudding is thick. Pour into sherbert glasses or a glass bowl and allow to chill thoroughly.

Lapskaus Norwegian Beef Stew

2012-01-06T02:37:00.001+01:00

I think it's relatively well-known around here that I enjoy my Norwegian cooking. Most of my recipes come from hounding R's family for dishes they've been making at least since his childhood, family recipes generally being the best. So when the Wisconsin Historical Society asked if I'd like to take a peak inside the kitchen of another Norwegian-American family via their new book Gudrun's Kitchen, I of course said yes.

I've always teased R about the tendency of Norwegian immigrants from the mid 19th to the early 20th century to leave behind their Nordic home only to settle in the coldest part of the mainland United States. In fact, according to the book, Norway lost a larger percentage of its population to the US than any other country except Ireland during the hundred-year span from 1820 to 1920. The book documents the history of one such family, beginning with the childhood and subsequent immigration of Gudrun herself, whose recipes and life are documented by her children and grandchildren.

Coupled with photos of the family, the first section of the book recounts stories of the Norwegian immigrant experience in the early- to mid-20th century, as one family member after another settled in North Dakota, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin and even Brooklyn, New York. Food became a fundamental way for Gudrun to maintain ties with her homeland, and the matriarch of the Sandvold family's reputation as a cook was well-established.

Most cooks would agree that the most coveted belonging of a beloved grandmother has to be her recipe box and the memories her dishes evoke. In this first post on the book, I'm sharing a recipe for lapskaus, or Norwegian Beef Stew, which R says is just as good as his mother's (and we all know that's high praise from anyone living far from home). It's easy to make, filling, warm, and comforting on these cold, post-holiday winter nights. I fed four people with this recipe, with enough left over for a lunch for two the next day. I've also reproduced the recipe head-note below, since the reminiscences of family members is one of the things that makes the book a candidate for the bed-side table as well as the kitchen counter.

Lapskaus (Norwegian Beef Stew)
Reprinted with permission from Gudrun's Kitchen: Recipes From a Norwegian Family, by Ingeborg Hydle Baugh, Irene O. Sandvold, Edward O. Sandvold and Quinn E Sandvold, 2011. Wisconsin Historical Society Press.

Whenever my mother would cook lapskaus (and there are many ways to make it), my dad would exclaim that no one could make lapskaus like his sister Anna in Norway could. He longed to have that taste again.
Lapskaus can be made with fresh or leftover meat and potatoes. It can be like a stew or a hash. My dad liked it with a lot of gravy. (Indeed, sometimes I think his favorite part of the meal was a second helping of gravy, into which he'd break up flatbrød. He ate that mixture as if it was his dessert!) The last time I made lapskaus, our cousin Pål wa with us, and he said no, this was not the real lapskaus - the real lapskaus has every ingredient chopped in teeny tiny pieces. I guess everyone has his or her own favorite lapskaus. - Irene

1/4 cup butter of canola oil
2 pounds of boneless beef, diced in 1/4-inch or smaller cues
2 medium onions, diced
2 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon sugar
Juice of 1/2 lemon
6 medium potatoes, peeled and diced into 1-inch pieces
4 carrots, peeled and diced into 1-inch pieces

Heat butter or oil in a large pan, add the meat, and brown well on all sides. Add the onions, water, salt, pepper, ginger, sugar, and lemon juice. Cover and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and cook at least 30 minutes or until the meat is very tender. Add the potatoes and carrots and cook until vegetables are tender, about 20 minutes longer.

Gingerbread Cinnamon Rolls with Coffee Molasses Icing

2011-12-26T17:34:00.002+01:00

I know things have been lagging around here a bit. So I've recruited my baker-friend extraordinaire Todd for a couple of guest posts (you'll remember Todd from his amazing Plum Cupcakes and Lemon-Filled Spice Cookies.) All the photos were taken by Todd's brother Seth, whom you can find at Seth Thomas Design. Thanks to the both of you!

In mid-December, I stopped into Tipsy Parson in Chelsea, NYC for an afternoon snack to discover their Muffin of the Week was gingerbread with coffee icing. Gingerbread and coffee are two of my favorite things, so it was no surprise that I enjoyed it immensely — hardly willing to give more than a small bite to my brunch companion. A week later, for Christmas Day family breakfast, I found the perfect chance to reincarnate the recipe in the form of a cinnamon bun. It was a great success!

Andrea has been a wonderful friend over the years, but she's taken it to a new level by offering her Paris apartment to me for a week over this holiday break (OK, maybe I begged...) while she visits family back in the States. As I prepare to board an Air France flight, I doubt the pastry I'll encounter in Paris will beat these buns; They are seriously delicious. I think the beauty of this recipe is that with a simple addition of raisins, orange peel, chocolate, etc. these could be a customizable holiday tradition for your family and friends.

Before this project, I'd never dared take on yeast. I did find the time it took the dough to initially rise was longer than expected, closer to two hours rather than the one hour quoted in most bun recipes. I was (sort of) patient and placed the bowl on a warm stove top to facilitate the growth. Eventually I noticed there had been some rise, so I took the dough out and punched it down (this part was really fun!) to start the roll creation. Once the rolls were cut and placed in the pan, I left them covered overnight before baking them in the morning-- leaving them for this period of time did not seem to do any harm whatsoever. I was concerned they wouldn't rise to twice their size, but uncovering them in the morning became a moment of glee as they were much fuller than I had expected.

Gingerbread Cinnamon Rolls with Coffee Molasses Icing

Adapted from Better Homes and Gardens

Yields: 12 cinnamon rolls
You will need:
4 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast (2 packages)
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/3 cup molasses
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 1/2 to 4 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
For the glaze:

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2 tablespoons strong coffee

2 tablespoons milk

Directions:

In a large bowl or bowl of a stand mixer, whisk yeast with 1/4 cup warm water. Let stand 5 minutes.

Stir in milk, molasses, brown sugar, cloves, egg, oil and salt. Stir in 1 cup flour, use paddle attachment with dough hook (if not mixing by hand as I did). Add enough flour until dough pulls away from sides of the bowl (you may not use all the flour).

Increase speed to medium and knead for 5 minutes, adding 1 tablespoon flour at a time as necessary until you end up with a smooth, elastic dough (you can also knead by hand on a lightly floured surface for 10 minutes until you end up with a smooth, elastic dough). Shape dough into a ball and place in a large, lightly greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let rise until doubled, usually 1-2 hours.

Punch risen dough down and place on a lightly floured surface. Cover and let rest 10 minutes.
Grease a 13-by-9-inch pan and set aside. In a small bowl, whisk together brown sugar, sugar, cinnamon and ginger. Roll dough out into a 12-by-8-inch rectangle and brush melted butter on top of dough.

Sprinkle evenly with brown sugar mixture and roll up tightly from the long end, pinching to seal. Cut log into 12 equal pieces and space evenly in 13-by-9-inch pan. Cover and let rise until doubled, about an hour (I let mine sit overnight).

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Uncover risen rolls and bake 20-25 minutes until puffed and golden brown. In the meantime, make your glaze: Whisk together powdered sugar, cinnamon, vanilla extract, coffee, and enough milk to make a thick but drippy glaze.

Remove rolls from oven and let cool 5 minutes before drizzling with glaze. Serve warm.

My Family's Date Squares

2011-12-21T00:55:00.001+01:00

These? These are pure Christmas. No matter what else is going on, no matter if we're spending Christmas in Denver or in the mountains (usually it's the mountains. Spoiled, I know), these date squares must be involved. Somewhere along the way my sister decided, in her infinite infant wisdom, that she didn't like date squares. Hey, that's cool. More for me. I wish I had never convinced her to try them again as an adult. But I didn't want her to miss out on one of the season's greatest pleasures.

It's always my mom who makes these squares, just as the recipe is written on her old recipe card, the same every year. But last year, a miracle of innovation occurred. She grabbed the wrong measuring spoon when adding the salt and ended up doubling the amount. And it. Was. Delicious. I know the salt/sweet combo is all the rage lately, and there is a darn good reason why. that extra salt took these unassuming little bars totally over the top, and I don't think we'll ever be going back. The extra salt has been added to the recipe below. No matter where in the world I am for Christmas, these bars always mean home. My mom has a great Joy of Cooking way of writing recipes out in paragraph form. For nostalgia's sake, I've maintained her style here.

My Family's Date Squares
Family Recipe

Cream together:

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup light brown sugar

Mix in by hand:

1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 3/4 cups quick cooking oatmeal
3/4 teaspoon salt

Pat 1/2 of this mixture into a greased 9x13 inch pan.

In a pot, boil until thickened and then cool:

1 pound dates (pitted and cut in half)
1 cup light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups water

Spread that mixture over the first in the pan, then pat in the remaining oatmeal crumbs until smooth. Bake in a 350F oven for 30 minutes. Allow to cool before cutting and serving.

Spiced Cranberry Apple Sauce

2011-11-21T03:53:00.002+01:00

Did you know that cranberry sauce is actually a condiment, and not a side dish? Crazy, huh? I know! Because my sister and I grew up on my mother's Spiced Cranberry Apple Sauce (which she says is vintage Martha), we always assumed that pushing it to the side of our Thanksgiving plate so we could save those tart/spicy/sweet mouthfuls for last was totally normal. I mean, it's like candy served right alongside the turkey and brussels sprouts. My sister even tells the story of eating Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend's family and nearly offending his mother when she pushed her cranberry sauce to side to save it for last. Didn't she like it? Didn't she know she was supposed to eat it with the turkey? As in, on the same forkful even?

Since I'm not in the US this year for Thanksgiving, and because cranberries aren't exactly as common here in Paris, I swiped this recipe from my mom last year, saving it and sitting on it so I could nostalgically enjoy it through pictures on my blog. And because I want to make sure it's documented in case I do stumble on cranberries, Thanksgiving or not. I'm just cutting and pasting her recipe, which comes complete with helpful Mom tips, like where in the grocery story to find fresh cranberries. Gotta love Mom tips! I especially love the way the recipe ends. With a suggestion you can use for every aspect of life, not just cooking.

Spiced Cranberry and Apple Sauce
From My Mom, like all good Thanksgiving recipes

You can make this sauce up to 3 days ahead, and in fact, it's almost a good idea so that the flavors have a chance to meld.

1-1/2 Cup Chopped, peeled green granny smith apples (about 3)

1 Cup Packed Brown Sugar

1-2 Cup White Grape Juice

1 tsp. ground ginger

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 (12 oz.) Package fresh cranberries - usually found in produce (veg/fruit) aisle

Combine all in medium saucepan
Boil, reduce heat
Simmer 15 minutes
Stir occasionally
Refrigerate - cool completely

Problems? Call Mom.

Nancy, France

2011-11-12T08:39:00.000+01:00

Has it really been a week since I posted? I have a good excuse for not cooking lately. Which is that my water got turned off for a few days because of a leak, and, well, I just don't feel like it. I spend all day at the library anyway, so I'm hardly in my apartment except to sleep.

At the beginning of October I took a trip to two towns in the Lorraine region of France: Nancy and Metz. We were only in Nancy for a few hours, but it was enough time to do some serious standing in the middle of the town's famed Place Stanislas and discuss art historical ideas.

After Nancy, I spent a few days in Metz, which is a much larger town. Pictures coming up, of course.

Speculoos No-Bake Granola

2011-11-05T09:12:00.003+01:00

I feel like this post could be about so many things. Like the jars of speculoos spread I've been finding in all the French grocery stores. It's just exactly what it sounds like, a spread with the consistency of creamy peanut butter, but tasting exactly like speculoos. I've had to limit the number of times I'm allowed to buy a jar, since if it's sitting around I can (and have) just eaten it with a spoon. I realize it's nearly impossible to find in the US, but if you ever find yourself in Paris, or want to request a gift from a friend who's going, speculoos spread should be a strong candidate.

This recipe started out as Choosing Raw's Vegan No-Bake Sunflower Seed and Oat Bars. All I did was swap the seed or nut butter (she did say it was my choice!) with speculoos spread and the agave nectar or brown rice syrup with honey. Thereby un-Vegafying them and kind of un-virtufying them as well. On the other hand, it was literally a five minute, no-bake solution for what to do with my spread. And it requires barely any equipment.

These never really held together as bars, probably because speculoos spread doesn't have quite the strength of, say, peanut butter. So rather than trying to cut them into bars, when they are well chilled they will naturally crumble into the size of pieces of granola you can toast. Which is definitely what I would have done with half of the batch if I'd had an oven. But it's just as delicious raw, and really doesn't require the extra step if you don't want to take it.

My friend and I brought the raw granola with us to Vaux-le-Vicomte, the 17th century château I blasted you with pictures of last time. The perfect French-American traveling snack for wandering tree-lined paths.

Speculoos No-Bake Granola
Adapted from Choosing Raw's Five Minute, No-Bake Sunflower Seed and Oat Bars

2 1/2 cups rolled oats
1 cup mixed seeds or sunflower seeds
1/2 cup raisins
2/3 cup speculoos spread
1/2 cup honey, plus more if needed

Line a shallow dish with foil or saran wrap and set aside.

Mix the first three ingredients in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, blend together the speculoos spread and the honey until combined. It will be quite thick.

I find that the easiest way to do the next part is with your hands (which would make it a great activity to do with kids, actually). Dump the speculoos mixture into the bowl containing the dry ingredients and mix them together until combined. You can use your hands to break up large dollops of speculoos and work it until all of the dry ingredients are mixed in.

Press the mixture into the prepared pan, cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours. If you have an oven, you can also just crumble the granola into the pan like the kind of granola you'd eat with a spoon, and toast it at 375 F for about 40 minutes.

Vaux-le-Vicomte

2011-10-31T19:09:00.000+01:00

In an effort to see as much as possible while the weather is still wonderful, I've been taking day-trips by train to towns just outside of Paris on the weekends. In pretty much every case, the attraction has been a 17th century château.

Vaux is one such place. It was built in the mid 17th century by Nicolas Fouquet. The gardens, for which the château is justly famous, were designed by André le Nôtre, who later also designed the gardens for Versailles.

Actually, you could say that Fouquet died for this place, since Louis XIV had him thrown in jail on spurious charges that amounted to building too lavish a palace.

French museums love to guide visitors through a specific route, which got a little strange at Vaux as there were a number of mannequins dressed in period costume and animated by video projectors and a soundtrack for the purpose of reenacting Fouquet's arrest. Now I wish I had pictures of that to show.

The Beginning of a Year in Paris

2011-10-28T23:31:00.001+02:00

I've been in Paris for almost two months now! And I kind of feel like I'm just now getting my bearings. I haven't been cooking all that much, for various reasons. So in the absence of food, a tour.

I've actually really fallen in love with my little view and spend a pretty good amount of time using my desk as a window seat.

My apartment is tiny. 15 square meters, which is about 160 square feet. The bed is a futon that I never bother making into a couch, and the kitchen is just a mini-fridge, two burners and a couple of pans. As one of my friends is so fond of saying, it's back to basics.

Next time we have a picture post, I'll show you some of the gardens and châteaux I've been to. Filled with 17th century French art!

Herb and Vinegar Potato Salad

2011-10-24T08:03:00.003+02:00

I'm finding this post kind of hard to write because I feel like all I'm thinking about these days is my dissertation. And I know you don't want to hear about that. So I'll keep it simple.

I'm on the lookout lately for things to do with root vegetables that doesn't involve roasting or otherwise baking them. Simple things that will still be satisfying and easy for one person to eat for a few days. Ha.

Potato salad. And not only, but a potato salad that came with glowing reviews from Shutterbean. She did say that the Old Bay seasoning really made the recipe, but I didn't know how available that would be in Paris, and I still wanted some kind of blend. So I decided on herbes de provence. It's not however usually added to a dish that won't be cooked though, so I softened it in the vinegar along with the onion. Also, as you can see, I didn't use a red onion since I had a sweet white onion that had to go. However, I'd recommend red, so we're going with that. Ta da! Easy enough for a grad student.

Herb and Vinegar Potato Salad
Just slight adapted from Shutterbean

1 medium red onion, sliced thinly
3/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 pound fresh green beans, trimmed and broken into bites
4 pounds yellow potatoes
2 teaspoons herbes de provence.

Put the onion into a medium bowl and add the vinegar, 1/2 teaspoon of salt and the herbes de provence. Toss well to coat and let it sit out at room temperature for 1 hour.

Don't peel the potatoes. Boil them in a large pot along with a a three-finger grab of salt, with the water just covering the potatoes. Boil until almost done, about 15 minutes or more depending on the size of the potatoes. But 15 minutes for the smallish yellow ones. When they're still a bit firm, add the beans and boil until potatoes are easily pierced with a knife. About 2-3 minutes more.

Drain the vegetables, but don't run under cold water. Toss the beans directly into the reserved dressing so they can start soaking it up while they're warm. As the potatoes cool, slip their skins off. It shouldn't be too hard, and you don't have to get everything off. The potato skins are good for you, after all! Cut the potatoes into bite-sized chunks and toss with the dressing. Add an additional 1/4-1/2 cup vinegar and another teaspoon of salt. Serve now, eat as leftovers. It just gets better with time.

Gorgonzola stuffed Pears

2011-10-21T08:59:00.001+02:00

So here's my learn-French plan. Well, I should back up. I know some French. I read a lot of French. Tons, actually, for hours and hours every day. But it's all either modern academic French, or it's 17th or 18th century French. Neither one of them is all that useful in day-to-day life. So part of my learn-French plan (the part that doesn't involve watching French cartoons on tv) is to start cooking in French.

French food magazines, MasterChef every Thursday with my Paris best friend and her cat Monsieur Baudelaire Checker-Paws (I'm actually not sure if the 'checker paws' part is hyphenated like a last name, left unspaced like one word or what). Speaking of MasterChef every Thursday night, that show lasts about three hours here. I'm not even kidding. Every time I think they've left it at a high point for the next episode, we're always back after the short commercial break.

My friend and I have also lately been trying to make some dinner for the two of us on MasterChef night. We're both relatively constrained by the size and stock of our kitchens. Since she has a toaster oven, she's winning. But these pears prove you don't need anything fancier than really great ingredients. The recipe is from one of a series of books that seem to be pretty popular here, called Marabout Chef. The book I have from them, "Les basiques de la cuisine française" suggests mostly pretty easy recipes, and the layout of the book reminds me of some of Donna Hay's cookbooks in that each recipe is printed on one side of the page, sometimes multiple recipes to a page, with a simple photograph on the other side.

The Marabout people want you to peel your pears before stuffing them with a mixture of Gorgonzola and crème fraîche. But my peeler totally sucks, so I skipped it. Not very French of me, I realize, but without peeling the recipe takes no time. Just halve the pears, use a spoon to dig out the core, leaving a little pocket into which goes the filling. I bout some jambon de Parme to serve with it, but we forgot it about until after the pears were gone, so that's an option not pictured above.

Poires Farcies au Gorgonzola, or Gorgonzola Stuffed Pears
Adapted from Camille le Foll's Marabout Chef Les Basiques de la Cuisine Française

4 fresh, perfectly ripe pears
75 grams Gorgonzola or really any good blue cheese you have
1 small container (about 8 ounces) crème fraîche
1 lemon, halved
Pepper to taste

Cut the pears in half and use a spoon to remove the core. There should be a little well in the middle the pear. Rub each half of the cut-side of the pears with half a lemon. This prevents browning. Set aside.

In a bowl, use a fork to mash the Gorgonzola into the crème fraîche. It will take a couple of moments, depending on how cold your cheese is. But it should blend just fine. Season the mixture with pepper to taste, then fill the waiting pears with the mixture and serve, either as is or with a few slices of jambon de Parme.

Sausage and Beef Kebabs

2011-10-18T08:21:00.001+02:00

This is it. This is my last recipe saved up from New York. After this, it will be all Paris apartment cooking, all the time. That is until December when I will be too-briefly reunited with R, the dogs, and My Kitchen. Yes.

But until then, we can always enjoy the fantasy of some completely indulgent roast meat. I don't make meat often, you may have noticed. So when I do, it had better be worth it. Is all I'm saying. This was the main attraction at a dinner party we had right before I left New York. I don't know if it counts as a party with only four people, but that's about as much as our apartment can really handle comfortably, since both dogs count as warm bodies as well.

So really, it's an easy procedure. You just have to remember to start marinading the meat a few hours before you're ready to really get going, and it's a relatively low-effort enterprise after that. Especially if you take your butcher up on his offer to cube the beef fillet for you. I mean, might as well. I can guarantee that his knives are better than mine. Then it's just to kabob your meat. Only the secret to these kabobs is layers of fresh sage which you earlier marinated along with the meat, and which, layered right up against the bacon or pancetta, absorb all of the renderings. I could eat a bowl of nothing but bacon-fried sage. Wouldn't even need the bacon.

Sausage and Beef Kebabs
Adapted from Jamie Oliver's Jamie's Italy

12 x 1" cubes of beef fillet
6 medium-sized Italian sausages, a mixture of spicy and sweet
5-6 thickly-sliced pancetta rounds
22 fresh sage leaves
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and passed through a press
2 fairly small lemons, one zested and juiced, the other quartered
Oil for the pan
Salt and pepper

The meat needs to be marinated for at least 1 hour and up to 3, so start by putting the beef cubes in a large, non-reactive bowl. Cut the sausages into thirds, quarter the pancetta rounds and add both of those meats to the bowl. Add 16 of the fresh sage leaves and save the rest aside.

On a cutting board, place your crushed garlic and the rest of the sage leaves. Mince them together until they form a paste. Put them in a small bowl and add the juice of one of the lemons along with the zest. Whisk in 4 tablespoons of olive oil, then pour the marinade over the meat. Toss the meat around a bit so everything gets covered, then cover the bowl with plastic and refrigerate for 1-3 hours.

When you're ready to roast them off, preheat your oven to its highest setting. Grease a baking sheet and set aside. To thread the kebabs, first use a piece of pancetta, then on top of that place one of the sage leaves that had been marinating with the meat. Fold the sage leaf over before you put it on the skewer. Next add a piece of sausage and finish with a piece of beef. Continue in this order until the skewer is full. You should get through three rounds per skewer. And you really do want the sage right there next to the pancetta so the pancetta drippings can work their magic on the sage. If you have enough pancetta, finish each kebab off with a slice of that on the top.

Place the kebabs in a single layer on your oiled baking sheet and place in the oven. Immediately turn the heat down to 400F and roast for about 20 minutes. When cooked through, remove from the oven and serve with lemon wedges to be squeezed over the top.

Corn Off the Cob Cakes

2011-10-15T08:32:00.000+02:00

There's this phenomenon in Paris, at least in the northern part where I live, of people roasting cobs of corn on fires built into these kind of wire basket things. The corn just roasts on a grate on the top. I have to admit that I haven't been daring enough to stop on my way back from the library to try one, so I can't say much more than that. But I am greeted by the smell of roasted corn every afternoon.

I don't plan on roasting my own corn anytime soon, since it can't be done in a pan on a burner, and that's about what I have. In fact, truth be told, this recipe is entirely impossible for me to make in my Paris apartment. For one thing, corn meal. I haven't looked, but I don't anticipate it being in every corner bodega (since they're not even called bodegas!) like it is in New York.

Second, a blender. Not exactly your most exotic kitchen appliance, but alas. If you have even a moderately stocked kitchen, however, you're good to go. Because after the blender, it becomes a bowl, a skillet and a burner kind of recipe.

These started life as Jane Brody's Corn-Off-The-Cob Cakes, a brilliant combination of cornmeal mixed with pureed fresh corn kernels. But that's kind of where she stopped. A great method, to be sure, but if I'm going to stand over a hot pan pouring batter in over and over, it better be a complete meal. So in went green chilies, cheddar cheese, scallions. And to top I decided on a simple mixture of chives and Greek yogurt seasoned with a little salt and pepper. Or you could use syrup, of course. Syrup goes on everything.

Corn-Off-The-Cob Cakes
Inspired by Jane Brody's Good Food Gourmet

1 cup stone-ground yellow cornmeal
2 cups low-fat milk
uncooked corn kernels from 4 large cobs of corn
3 eggs
2 tablespoons melted butter
1 heaping cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 bunch of scallions, sliced
1 4-ounce can green chilies, drained and rinsed
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

In a medium bowl, stir together the corn meal and milk and set aside.

Blend the corn kernals in a blender, then blend in the eggs and the melted butter. Pour this mixture into the bowl with the corn meal mixture and stir together until combined. Stir in the scallions, green chilies and cheddar cheese.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Gently mix these dry ingredients into the wet mixture until just combined.

Heat a skillet over medium heat and oil with oil, butter or cooking spray. Use a scant 1/4 cup to pour batter into the skillet. These cakes spread a bit, so be sure not to use much more than 1/4 cup. Cook the cakes on both sides until done, just as you would normal pancakes.

For the Chive Cream:

Combine 1 cup Greek yogurt with a handful of snipped chives. Season with salt and pepper and serve with the corn cakes.

Sautéed Haricots Verts

2011-10-12T08:00:00.000+02:00

If you're still craving early fall foods like tomatoes, but if your tomato stash is looking a little less like the height of ripeness, applying heat always works wonders. I completely agree with avoiding those horrible, watery, grocery store tomatoes, but I don't think we're quite there yet. So even if we're on the tail end, there a things we can still do to make tomatoes worth our while.

Appropriately, this recipe started out as Richard Olney's Sautéed Haricots Verts from his canonical Simple French Food. But changes, as they say, were made. For one thing, among all the dozens of jars of herbs and spices I've accumulated at home in NYC, oregano never made it onto my spice shelf, for some reason. So a mixture of basil and thyme went in for the oregano, and I changed the cooking order and method a bit. For one thing, I don't believe in peeling and seeding tomatoes because I am lazy. So I didn't, electing to cook them down for a bit longer than called for to allow the extra juice to reduce.

As a result, the tomatoes were added in earlier than called for, and before the beans, which just get their finish in the pan, having been previously blanched in a pot of boiling water. To make this more of a meal, next time I'd brown some potato slices in oil and add them into the mix at the last moment, along with the beans.

Sautéed Haricots Verts
Adapted from Richard Olney's Simple French Food

1 large sweet onion, chopped
oil for the pan
2 tablespoons butter
2 cups cherry or grape tomatoes
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 1/2 pounds green beans, ends trimmed
Salt and pepper to taste
Handful of chopped parsley

Parboil the beans for about 8-10 minutes (depending on how crunchy you like them, but they should still be a bit firm), drain and rinse in cold water to stop the cooking

Heat some oil in a large sauté pan over medium-low heat and cook the onions gently until they're soft but not browned, about 15-20 minutes. In the meantime, cook the tomatoes with the butter a pinch of salt, and the basil and thyme for about 15 minutes. Add the tomatoes and their juices to the onions and continue cooking for another 10 minutes until the juices have partly evaporated and thickened.

Add the beans to the onions, season with salt and increase the heat to medium. Toss regularly for about 10-5 minutes, until everything is warmed through and the juices are thick. Adjust the seasoning with more salt and pepper if needed. Serve with a sprinkling of the rest of the parsley over the top.

Pima-Papago Cactus and Eggs

2011-10-09T08:10:00.001+02:00

In my last post, we started talking about Spirit of the Harvest by Beverly Cox and Martin Jacobs, being reissued this fall. I have to say, it would be the perfect resource for a Thanksgiving meal, as the recipes are focused around using traditional Native American ingredients like cornmeal, pumpkins, beans, meats native to North America and flavors that are very much of the season. It might also be a way to celebrate the first peoples populations of North America on a day which should be very much about them.

The book opens with a two-page color map of the US, the 48 contiguous states outlined in white but not labeled, in favor of focusing on the regions where Native American tribes once lived, before being relocated by colonizers. There's also a key that shows you where various crops were grown and gathered, and where specific animals were hunted. Next, each chapter opens with a description of a specific region: The Southeastern Coast and Woodlands, The Northeastern Coast and Woodlands, The Great Plains, The Southwest and The West. Cox and Jacobs have divided the book in this manner because ingredients tended to be grouped by region, as did the nomadic patterns of the people.

These chapter introductions are fascinating in the attention they pay to the history of the people, and the ways in which food fits into their cultures. As I mentioned before, each recipe is introduced by a generous head-note which describes the dish, it's cultural significance and an explanation of any less-than-common ingredients.

For this sauté of cactus and eggs from the Pima and Papago peoples, Cox and Jacobs describe how cactus is eaten in the hottest and driest regions of the Southwest. Although this recipe calls for nopales, or the pads of the prickly pear cactus, the Pima and Papago depended on the barrel cactus for its opaque liquid, and the cholla cactus was used in healing rituals. If you've never tried nopales before, this is your chance. They can be found at good Latin markets, and if you're in NYC, I bought mine for a song at little market right on 102nd and Lexington.

Pima-Papago Cactus and Eggs
Excerpted (with permission) from Spirit of the Harvest: North American Indian Cooking (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011), by Beverly Cox and Martin Jacobs

2 to 3 5- to 7-inch fresh nopales (prickly pear cactus pads) with thorns removed or 1 7 1/4-ounce can natural cactus in salt water, drained
Salt
4 strips bacon, diced
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 to 1 teaspoon ground New Mexican red chili or chili powder
4 to 6 eggs
Ground pepper (optional)

Rinse fresh nopales well under cold running water and examine carefully to make sure all tiny thorns have been removed. Trim around the edges with scissors to remove the base of thorns. Use a sharp knife or vegetable peeler to remove a thin layer of peel. Rinse again, cut into thin strips, and simmer in lightly salted water for 5 to 6 minutes, until tender. Rinse and drain. If using canned nopales, rinse and drain.

Cook bacon until crisp in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Remove with a slotted spoon and reserve.

Add onion and chili to the drippings in skillet. Sauté over medium heat until onion is translucent. Stir in reserved cactus strips and bacon. Sauté briefly. Break desired number of eggs on top of cactus mixture. Cover tightly and cook over low heat for 5 to 7 minutes, until whites are set and yolks are cooked to taste. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper, if desired.

Serves 4 to 6

Navajo Wild Sage Bread

2011-10-06T08:52:00.016+02:00

I'll admit that when I received a review copy of Martin Jacobs and Beverly Cox's book Spirit of the Harvest, I was a little nervous. I have exactly zero experience with Native American cooking, and I was worried the ingredients would be difficult to find and perhaps even hard to use. But really, when you think about how much the New World has given to cooking, all of the ingredients for which we can thank the native people of North and South America, the food is actually quite accessible. But not overly so. Cox and Jacobs didn't leave out recipes for things like Cattail Pollen Flapjacks just because cattail pollen may not be readily available.

Instead the book, which is being reissued this fall, mixes recipes you can definitely make with ingredients you might already have on hand (such as this one), with recipes that call for things for which you might have to do a little searching (such as the next one I'm going to share), and finally with recipes that are worth preserving as intrinsic parts of cuisines which have not really received proper attention.

I hesitate to talk about this book as though it presents one monolithic cuisine, as Native Americans are not a monolith, but just as diverse as the regions from which they come. Cox and Jacobs don't really treat it as one large cuisine, either, dividing the chapters up by region. But many ingredients are common to the foods of many of the people. It's akin to giving a broad overview of French food, but remembering to draw distinctions between the different regions of that country.

We'll talk more about the layout of the book, and some of its particulars in my next post. But for our first recipe, let's start with Navajo Wild Sage Bread. Each recipe includes a generous head-note (head-paragraph might be a better phrase) which describes the recipe, the people from which it comes and its cultural significance and history (you'll quickly see why the book was a James Beard and IACP award winner when it was first published).

Cox and Jacobs write that in addition to flavoring foods, wild sage had a place in Navajo curing ceremonies as well, where it is placed on the floor of the sudatory, or sweat-bath house, because its wonderful odor attracts good. They write about how one Navajo woman, Helen Begay, remembered gathering the herb as a child for her mother in Lukachukai on the Navajo reservation. Ms. Begay also remembers her mother making a fresh goat's milk cheese that she used in this bread. I bet it would be a real treat to track some down, but in the meantime you can use cottage cheese.

One further note about the recipe. I'm pretty sure that the authors forgot to mention a second rise that should take place before the bread is baked. But I've included instructions for where that rise should happen and for how long in brackets in the body of the recipe.

Navajo Wild Sage Bread
Excerpted (with permission) from Spirit of the Harvest: North American Indian Cooking (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011, by Beverly Cox and Martin Jacobs

1 1/4-ounce package active dry yeast
1/4 cup lukewarm water
3 1/2 cups unbleached flour
2 teaspoons crushed dried sage
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 egg
1 cup cottage cheese
1 tablespoon melted vegetable shortening or lard

Dissolve yeast in lukewarm water and set aside. Combine dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. In a large mixing bowl, beat egg and cottage cheese until smooth. Stir in melted shortening and yeast. Add flour mixture gradually, beating vigorously after each addition, until a stiff dough is formed.

Place dough on a lightly floured surface and knead for 10 minutes. Cover dough with a cloth and let rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, or until it doubles in bulk. During the last period of rising, preheat the oven to 375F. Punch down dough and knead for 1 minute.

Place dough on a greased, 2-quart ovenproof bowl [and let rise one more time until doubled in size, about 1 hour] and bake for 50 minutes until it is golden brown and firm to the touch. Turn bread out of its bowl and cool on a rack. Serves 6 to 8.

This bread is going to Yeast Spotting over on Wild Yeast. Check it out for some more homemade carbs!

Charlotte au Chocolate

2011-10-03T08:21:00.002+02:00

Charlotte au Chocolate, sounds so fancy doesn't it? And it kind of is. If you start from the beginning, by making your own ladyfingers, it's not the simplest of recipes. But R gave me my very own charlotte mold for Valentine's day last year (and by gave me, I mean I ordered it on Amazon and then announced that I loved his thoughtful v-day gift) and as a reward I made a chocolate charlotte.

So when we had some friends over for dinner the other week, and I asked R for his input as to dessert, he immediately asked for chocolate charlotte. And I couldn't dissuade him, which I kind of wanted to do. Not because this dessert isn't delicious (It is. I thought R was going to lose it in the silent and completely non-dramatic way he tends to lose it when I suggested I make something else.), but because it is kind of a pain if you start at the beginning, which, however, is completely worth doing. You can see my last post for a great ladyfinger recipe.

So, the charlotte. There are two main types, cooked and uncooked. The cooked version is probably slightly older (although both originate from around the end of the 18th century), and based on an English dessert that featured stewed apples surrounded by buttered bread. This chilled version is based on the charlotte russe, or Russian charlotte, invented by the French chef Carême at the beginning of the 19th century while he was working in England and probably inspired by their cooked version. The charlotte russe replaces the buttered bread with spongecake or ladyfingers arranged in a charlotte mold, which is then filled with cream or mousse flavored with chocolate or coffee, for example. They can also be filled with a fruit mousse, like strawberry or raspberry.

In this version, one adapted from Martha Stewart and decidedly of the charlotte russe variety, the ladyfingers are sprinkled with Grand Marnier in much the same say the ladyfingers of a tiramisu might be dredged in coffee and liquor. As I wrote in my last post, the ladyfinger does, after all, originate (as the story goes) in Savoy, a land historically shared by the French and the Italians. Which is why you can use this ladyfinger recipe, although Italian, it's perfect for this French dessert.

Charlotte au Chocolate
Adopted from Martha Stewart's Entertaining

1 batch Ladyfingers
2 tablespoons orange liqueur mixed with 2 tablespoons water

For the filling:

1/2 pound or 2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup orange liqueur
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup slivered, blanched almonds, pulverized
4 ounces semisweet chocolate
1/4 cup espresso coffee
2 cups whipping cream

Start by melting the chocolate together with the espresso. To do this, put the chocolate into either the top part of a double boiler or into a microwave-safe bowl. Pour the espresso over the chocolate and then, if using a double boiler, set the chocolate over a bowl of lightly simmering water. If using a microwave, place the bowl in the microwave and heat for 30 seconds. The chocolate may not be completely melted after this amount of time, but if you just stir it a bit it will melt the rest of the way. Return to the microwave if necessary. Set the melted chocolate aside to cool a bit.

Cream the butter and sugar together in the bowl of an electric mixer using the paddle attachment. The mixture will be fluffy and a pale yellow color. Add the liqueur and the almond extract, continuing to beat until smooth. Add the almonds and the melted chocolate then set aside to be sure it has cooled completely.

In another bowl, whip the cream until thick and almost stiff. Fold the cream into the chocolate mixture.

To make the charlotte:

Line the bottom of a 2-quart charlotte mold with a round of parchment paper. Fit a layer of ladyfingers into the bottom. You make have to cut or break some of them to make them fit, and you can use the scraps to fill in any holes. Place them round-side down so that the flat, browned side is facing up. Sprinkle a bit of the liqueur/water mixture on this layer.

Next, arrange more ladyfingers around the sides of the mold, again with the rounded side out so that the flat, browned side is facing in.

Pour the chocolate cream mixture into the mold. Arrange a final layer of ladyfingers over the top of the cream, only this time dip them briefly in the liqueur/water mixture before placing them on the cream. Again, place them so that the rounded side is out and the flat, browned side is facing in.

Cover the charlotte with plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours. To serve, place a plate on top of the mold and flip it over, sliding the mold off of the charlotte so that it rests on the plate. Remove the round of waxed paper and it's ready to eat.

Savoiardi, or Ladyfingers Italian Style

2011-09-30T08:08:00.001+02:00

I have had a bear of a time with ladyfingers. I'm sure it's been my fault each time, but they have just never worked out for me before now. The first recipe I tried, from a trusted, trusted source, was a complete disaster. But before we get all doomsday, let me reiterate that the recipe below works, and that I'm pretty sure the failures before were failures on my part.

So ladyfingers. I'm not sure that people actually eat these by themselves. They're delicious, don't get me wrong. Light, and sweet and springy. But they play better with others. Get a little bored all on their own. Aren't interested in sitting in a corner and just reading a good book. So they're usually an element in something more grand, more show-stopping. And that is exactly the case here. And I'll reveal that show-stopper in exactly three days, because that's my posting schedule. Like how that works?

Ladyfingers are made by separating eggs and beating the yolks until thick and then whipping the whites to peaks. Things get sweetened, things get combined, and then the batter must be piped from a pastry bag into the familiar ladyfinger shape. The first two times I tried this, I'm pretty sure I didn't beat my yolks sufficiently, so I ended up with a liquid that rather than being piped, was dribbled into a big puddle on my baking sheet. But that didn't happen at all with this recipe. The flour gives it structure, of course, by the corn starch helps as well (although Field originally called for potato starch, the two are basically interchangeable in quantities like this).

(Manhattan Bridge, by the way)

But I promised that I'd give R his due, and he'd like me to say that in order to save my first attempt at ladyfingers, he suggested using my little financier mold and spoon the batter into that rather than piping. It worked great, and they puffed right up like they should. So there you go. R's really great idea, however, is not necessary here. These will pipe, these will pipe (I'm willing it to be so for you too). I'm not sure what makes these Italian-style, by the way, since the recipe isn't too different from French versions I've seen. And anyway, the word 'Savoiardi' merely means 'From Savoy', so a shared cookie from a shared land. And up next? A decidedly French dessert with which to show off your ladyfingers.

Savoiardi or Italian-Style Ladyfingers
Adapted from Carol Field's The Italian Baker

5 eggs separated and brought to room temperature
160 grams granulated sugar
3 drops vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
125 grams all-purpose flour
40 grams corn starch
Pinch of salt
Bit of confectioners' sugar for garnish

Preheat the oven to 425. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.

Beat the egg yolks together with 3 tablespoons of the granulated sugar in the bowl of a large mixer. Continue to beat until it's light and foamy and has reached the ribbon stage. This will take about 10 minutes. Be sure not to underbeat or the mixture will be too runny.

If you're using a stand mixer and only have one bowl (like I do. I really, really need a second mixer bowl) you're going to need to transfer the yolk mixture to another bowl and wash out your mixer bowl. It's annoying, but be sure your bowl is completely free of any oil or fat or the egg whites won't beat up properly. Field suggests using a warm bowl, so if you wash your mixer bowl in warm water it will be clean and warm all in one step! So anyway, into that warm bowl, pour your egg whites and beat them on high with the whisk attachment. Once you reach stiff peaks stage, beat in the vinegar and vanilla for a moment, then turn the machine off.

As your whites are beating, you can sift together the flour, corn starch and salt. Once the whites are done, fold a quarter of the yolk mixture into the whites. Then add half the flour mixture and fold that into the whites. Add the rest of the yolks and fold in, followed by the rest of the flour. Be gentle so your whites don't deflate too much.

Spoon the batter into a pastry bag fitted with a 1/2-inch plain tip and pipe the batter in 5" long strips onto the parchment-lined baking sheets. The cookies should be about 1" apart, but they're not going to spread a whole lot (at least, they shouldn't). If you're eating the cookies by themselves you can sift confectioners sugar over the top before baking. But if they're going into another already-sweet recipe you may want to skip that step.

Bake for 5-6 minutes until slightly browned on the bottom. Cool on racks and store in an airtight container. When storing, use sheets of parchment paper between the layers, as ladyfingers can be quite sticky and might mush together.

Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup

2011-09-27T08:47:00.001+02:00

This started out as Louisa Shafia's Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup from her (relatively) new book Lucid Food. But there were other ingredients to be used, things I didn't have, and things I really wanted to throw in. As a result, you've got the addition of lemons, the substitution of hazelnuts (because yum, hazelnuts), the further substitution of basil, and a shallot thrown in for good measure. But the cucumber avocado combination spiked with jalapeño and cumin? That was all Shafia.

I know I'd been craving chilled soups all summer, and even now, into the fall. So if you're tired of them, I'm sorry. This is the last one, I promise. And anyway, I think we're still on the cusp where a chilled soup might be suitable for a light lunch or afternoon snack. I mean, some people eat ice cream well into winter.

Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup
Inspired by Louisa Shafia's Lucid Food

4 large unwaxed cucumbers
1 ripe avocado
1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, skins removed, plus more for garnish, chopped
Juice of 1 lime
Juice of 1/2 - 1 lemon
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 jalapeño, seeded and ribs removed
1 shallot, chopped
1 handful fresh basil
2 1/2 cups cold water
Salt to taste

Cut the cucumber in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Then cut into chunks. Scoop the fruit out of the avocado. Place all of the ingredients except the salt into a blender and blend. You may need to do this in batches. Pour into a bowl and season to taste with salt. Place in the refrigerator for a few hours until well chilled. Garnish with chopped hazelnuts before serving.

Caramelized Figs and Fromage Blanc

2011-09-24T08:25:00.003+02:00

Figs seem to be everywhere in Paris, and I don't just mean the fresh kind. They don't seem to be as exotic here, or as ignored. As evinced by the fact that you can find them as the fruit in the bottom of yogurts that don't even bill themselves as gourmet and in jams that you might stumble on in any old store. Of course, nothing really compares to a fresh fig, and the season is fleeting.

I found this recipe on The Kitchn and it met all of my Paris apartment requirements: healthy, fresh, easy, requiring only a pan and a burner and not much else. I substituted out nearly every ingredient, but still kept very much to the spirit of the recipe. Thyme in for rosemary, fromage blanc for yogurt (more on fromage blanc later), chopped and toasted almonds in for the pistachios. But the figs are what's important.

And speaking of toasting nuts, you can do that right on a stove top as well, no oven required. Just warm a dry pan and toss the chopped nuts right in, no oil necessary. It's called, predictably, dry toasting. You have to watch them and stir occasionally because they can go from raw to burnt quickly.

After caramelizing for a bit in the honey, the figs get layered on the fromage blanc, with the extra honey drizzled over the top along with a little olive oil. A sprinkling of chopped nuts and sea salt finishes it off. And there you have it, breakfast or a quick snack.

Fromage Blanc with Caramelized Figs
Adapted from this recipe on The Kitchn

2 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
6 figs, stems trimmed and then cut in half
8 ounces fromage blanc (or use plain or lightly sweetened yogurt if you can't get fromage blanc)
Handful of chopped almonds, dry toasted (see above)
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling
Sea salt to taste

Heat the honey and thyme in a skillet over medium-low heat. When warm and getting runny, add the figs cut-side down. Cook the figs for about 3 minutes, then flip and cook for another 2.

Scoop the yogurt into two bowls, place the fig halves on top, then drizzle the remaining honey from the pan over the figs, along with a little olive oil. Sprinkle the almonds and sea salt over the top and serve.

Risotto from the Oven with Sausage and Bell Pepper

2011-09-21T08:54:00.002+02:00

I made this oven risotto the day before hurricane Irene was supposed to hit New York City. I was all prepared for it to be our last warm meal before the Armageddon that Irene was supposed to visit on the city. The last real meal before we were reduced to drinking water out of our bathtub and subsisting on saltine crackers and the stash of ginger candy that I'd bought for my flight to France.

And although we didn't end up losing power, water or even our internet connection, it would have been a splendid final meal. It's also the third recipe that I'm sharing with you from Yvette van Boven's new book Home Made. We've already talked about how there are some pretty great projects covered in this book. Ideas for how to make things truly from scratch. For more on the book (and a couple of great recipes), see my last two posts.

This particular recipe proves, however, that the book isn't just about kitchen projects, but includes easy ways to get dinner on the table as well. I've never tried a risotto from the oven before, usually resigning myself to some serious stirring while standing over a hot stove. Doing it completely in the oven makes the final product a little less creamy than your typical risotto, but certainly no less flavorful. R would probably tell you that this was one of his favorite dinners in recent memory. At least, I'm assuming he would since he did an admirable job of putting this away for lunch and dinner in the same day. Truth be told, had we had more sausage on hand, and a few more bell peppers, or access to even one open grocery store, and had Mayor Bloomberg not been warning us to Stay Inside for God's Sake we'd have been all prepared to make it again the next day.

Risotto From the Oven with Sausage and Bell Pepper
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made(Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

If you make this for an evening meal, double the quantities.

1 tbsp olive oil
4 sausages (about 8 oz)
1 red bell pepper, cubed
1 green bell pepper, cubed
1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, slivered
2-3 springs rosemary, chopped
hot-pepper sauce to taste
2/3 cup Arborio rice
2/3 cup white wine
2/3 cup passato (smooth tomato pulp)
1 cup chicken broth

Heat the oil in a heavy skillet that can also go into the oven. Preheat the oven to 350F/Gas 4. Cut open the skin on the sausages and crumble the meat over the hot oil in the pan. Turn over. Add the bell peppers, onion, and garlic. Sprinkle with two-thirds of the rosemary and dribble with the sauce. Pan fry the mixture while stirring for approx. 5 minutes. Fold in the rice and fry for another minute. Add the wine and stir in the passato and broth. Bring the mixture to a boil while stirring. Cover the pan with a lid and place in the oven. Bake the risotto for 18-20 minutes until done, or until all liquid is absorbed. Before serving sprinkle with the reserved rosemary. Serve with a small arugula salad.

Lavender & Mint Tea

2011-09-18T08:51:00.002+02:00

In my last post I told you about Yvette Van Boven's new cookbook Home Made. I called the book project-oriented because Van Boven teaches you how to work such culinary magic as making your own cheese (several different cheeses, actually), making ice cream without a machine, liqueurs which begin as mere vodka and end up as flavored infusions, soups that you build from the broth up and breads that require only a tiny bit of kneading.

Each of these techniques tends to be introduced by a page of annotated color photographs. For tea, if you plan on starting at the beginning, Van Boven suggests which leaves you should think about collecting (like plantains, dandelions, nettles, golden rods, violets, rose petals or elderberry blossoms). You see the tea seeping in its glass pot, or being stuffed into individual teabags for later use.

After the initial technique is introduced, Van Boven suggests that we 'get going' by introducing a list of recipes that build on the same technique but vary the flavors. So for tea, you might combine sage & lemon, or fruit juices with cranberries & spices. Or dried lavender left-over from some baking project or another, with fresh mint. In this case, there's no gathering required.

Fresh Lavender & Mint Tea comes together almost as an afterthought. Yet because most of my bagged and loose teas are black and contain caffeine. So this simple mixture of mint and lavender can be whipped up and enjoyed any time of day or night, hot or cold, sweet or straight. I've been doing both lately, drinking it right away or leaving it in the refrigerator to chill.

Lavender & Mint Tea
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

Lavender: Yes, you can make tea from it. Combined with mint it is delicious. Here's the recipe for fresh and dried lavender.

2-3 tbsp fresh lavender leaves or 1-2 tbsp dried ones
small sprig of fresh mint leaves

Bring water to a boil. Pour over the herbs in a pot and allow to brew for 10 minutes. Strain into a cup, flavor with honey or sugar, as needed.

You can also strain this tea into a pot, flavor it with honey or sugar, and leave it to fully cool. Serve in tall glasses over ice cubes and with fresh mint leaves for show.

Rösti Fritters with Rosemary

2011-09-15T08:30:00.002+02:00

I've got a new book to introduce you to. I really think you're going to like this one for a couple of reasons (I'll let you know right now that I was sent a review copy, just so we're on the same page). First, if you read Cooking Books, you probably like to make things from scratch, or at least imagine yourself making things from scratch (the latter is one of my personal favorite pass-times). You probably like experimenting with ingredients to a point, but also go in for the idea of kitchen projects that either produce a unique result or allow you to make things that you might otherwise just buy.

(Central Park at the End of the Summer)

So if I had to describe Yvette Van Boven's new book Home Made, I'd say it's project-oriented. I think she could use that phrase on the book's resume, it always impresses. Let's start by talking about how the book is laid out. The chapters are arranged chronologically in the sense that it starts with breakfast, moves through lunch, on to tea, then to chapters focused on techniques like preserving, making pasta, smoking (did you know you can build your own smoker right in your kitchen for smoking fish?), and roasting. Finally, the book ends with chapters on cheese, ice cream (you're making all of this yourself, remember), desserts with eggs, desserts with chocolate, a chapter on after-party food for the inevitable (but we hope occasional!) hangover. There's even a chapter on making treats for a person's best friend (your dog, if that was unclear).

(View from the Upper West Side of NYC)

For my first foray into the book, I made Van Boven's Rösti Fritters with Rosemary. If you're worried that my characterization of this book as project-oriented meant that every recipe is an undertaking, this one should prove the opposite. It does everything a good potato side-dish should do. Stands up on its own, but doesn't overpower the main course. Is amenable to helping soak up juices or gravies from the center of the plate, but doesn't rely on them.

Akin to a classic Jewish potato latka, these röstis are a bit less cake-like, in that they don't include the eggs and flower that make a potato pancake, well, a potato pancake. Instead, they're the Swiss version of a hash brown, grated potatoes seasoned with rosemary and salt, and pan-fried to crispy perfection. I find that red potatoes are a good choice, as the recipe calls for a waxy potato that can hold its shape during cooking.

Rösti Fritters with Rosemary
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

6 waxy medium potatoes
leaves of 6 twigs rosemary
sea salt
some light oil for frying

Cut the potatoes into a very fine julienne (very thin strips) in the food processor or use a good mandoline, or grater. Thoroughly pat them dry. Add the rosemary and a little salt to the grated potatoes. Heat a thin coat of oil in a skillet and fry 3 heaps of potato mixture in the oil at a time. Do not stir or touch! When the edges turn golden yellow, turn and fry on the other side. Allow to drain on paper towels. Can be easily made in advance: Heat the fritters for 6 minutes prior to serving in an oven preheated to 350F/Gas 4.