Rhubarb and Venison

Tuna (or Walleye) Noodle Casserole

2013-05-13T22:00:00.000-05:00

Out on the porch on an unseasonably warm spring evening, eating casserole. It doesn't get more Midwestern than this.

We spent the weekend building new garden beds. A trip to Menards for lumber and peat moss, a trip to my parents' house to borrow the trailer, a trip to the landfill for a massive amount of black dirt for $5 - the definition of dirt cheap, it appears - and finally planting on Sunday. The peas, carrots, cabbage, beets, butternut squash, spinach, chard, kale, lettuce, turnips, and kohlrabi are all nestled in their garden beds. The cucumbers, tomatoes, basil, rosemary, sage, sugar pumpkins, jack-o-lantern pumpkins, corn, and sunflowers will be planted soon. I still need to transplant our raspberries and rhubarb.

Oh, and our CSA share will be starting soon too.

It's a lot of fruit and veg for our small family. But I can't help myself - spring is a time of optimism and hope. I want sunflowers towering in a sunny greeting to me and my neighbors every morning, and fresh lettuce in the salad bowl every evening. I want a freezer stocked with pesto and a cupboard full of pickles. I have visions of a pantry lined with jars of homemade salsa and sauerkraut, carrots and squash stored away for winter, pumpkin seeds toasting in the oven, rosemary scenting the sauce of autumn's first pheasant.

Entrusting that the miracles of the earth will provide once again this year, those tiny seeds harnessing the sun, water and soil to fulfill their vegetable destiny, the bounty of summer will be upon us soon. However, for the moment, with the brown dirt of our garden beds quiet and bare for the moment, I dig in the pantry and freezer and make casserole with what we have on hand, knowing that an abundance of garden freshness is just around the corner.

Tuna (or Walleye) Noodle Casserole

Adapted from January 2013 Food & Wine Magazine. I love casserole, the classic throw-everything-in-and-bake-it-until-bubbly dish, and this is a quality recipe, with a béchamel base and toasty buttery breadcrumbs on top. Instead of tuna, I subbed in our canned walleye, but as I've never met anyone outside my family tree with canned walleye, you can go ahead and use tuna. If you need to impress your friends with your tuna noodle casserole, just call it cassoulet - but then again, if you need to impress your friends, I kindly suggest you find new friends.

12 ounces rotini pasta

4 Tbls. butter

1 medium onion, finely chopped

2 Tbls. all-purpose flour

3 cups whole milk or half-and-half

1 and 1/2 cups frozen peas

3/4 cup piquillo peppers, sliced (look for them near the roasted red peppers in the pickle aisle)

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

One 6-ounce can solid white tuna in oil, drained and flaked

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1/2 cup breadcrumbs

Preheat the oven to 450°. Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water until al dente. Drain.

Meanwhile, in a Dutch oven or other oven-safe pot, melt 3 tablespoons of the butter. Add the onion and cook over high heat, stirring, until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the flour and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the milk and bring to a boil. Cook the sauce over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 3 minutes.

Add the pasta, peas, sliced piquillo peppers, Parmesan cheese and tuna and season with salt and pepper; mix together.

In a small skillet, melt the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter. Add the breadcrumbs and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until golden, about 1 minute. Sprinkle the crumbs over the casserole and bake for 10 minutes or until bubbling. Serve right away.

No Hungry Kids - a Fundraiser Follow-Up

2013-05-08T06:01:00.001-05:00

I have a fear of asking people for money. I didn't realize it until I started this fundraiser for Great Plains Food Bank. When it came to fundraising, my usual m.o. was to write out a check and call it done. Or buy food. I'm a sucker for Girl Scout cookies, Boy Scout popcorn, and the Pizza Corner frozen pizzas that NoDak students sell for fundraisers.

However, I asked you to donate to a worthy cause, and I didn't even have any cookies to sell you. I just made my case for one of my favorite charities the only way I knew how - by blogging. I was nervous about it. I'd never asked you to do anything other than maybe try a divine rhubarb crisp recipe, and I was unsure of what would happen, if I'd even make my simple goal to raise $300 in donations.

To my astonishment, many of you opened your hearts (and your pockets) and gave whatever you could. $5 here, $20 there, but every dollar you donated along with the fundraising efforts of my friend Petra added up to big dollars. $1,677 to be exact, demolishing my small $300 goal.

Petra and I present a check for $1,677 to Renee and Mike of Great Plains Food Bank

I was astounded. I was excited. And yeah, maybe I cried.

I understand that $1,677 isn't a cure-all, but it's part of the solution to fine-tune our food distribution system to ensure there is not one child waking up this morning wondering where they will find food today, perhaps sitting distractedly in a classroom waiting for their only meal at school lunch. If nothing else, this experience reminded me of a simple truth: we are stronger together than apart. Like the fibers of a rope, bees in a hive or musicians in a symphony, our influence and power to do good, affect change and become the best we can be grows exponentially when we connect with others, participate in our communities, actively support one another and cheer each other on to pursue our passions.

It's all part of living a meaningful life, and I sincerely thank you for reminding me of that.

PS - for more information on hunger in America, check out the documentary A Place At The Table. Screenings are happening all across the US now.

Three Days, $300 to Stop Hunger in North Dakota

2013-04-29T06:05:00.000-05:00

After five years of blogging in this little space, I'm still constantly amazed by our bounty. The overflowing gardens that are a mainstay in our communities. The streams and fields burgeoning with fish and game. The endless multi-colored fields of flax, wheat and corn. The cattle grazing behind barbed wire fences along every rural highway and byway. The fully stocked supermarket shelves with variety that astounds.

Yet, people go hungry.

Last year I had the opportunity to listen to the director of the Great Plains Food Bank talk about hunger in North Dakota. It was an eye-opener.

- 1 in 11 North Dakotans don't get enough to eat. 40% of those people are children.

- Food pantries originally designed for emergency food supplies are now supplementing the diets of our low-income population on an ongoing basis.

- An aging population brings an increased risk of food insecurity for the elderly.

It's time to help, and here's my idea. If you donate to Great Plains Food Bank over the next three days through May 1, I'll match it. Thanks to the Center of Technology and Business Women's Leadership Program and my own personal funds, I'll match your donation, up to $300 accumulative total, and my goal is to use every dollar of that to match yours. Together, we'd raise $600.

$1 = 4 meals.

$600 = 2,400 meals.

To donate, click here and in the donation form in the company match line, enter "Rhubarb" to get the match. That's it. Every dollar helps!

The Great Plains Food Bank is pretty awesome. Based in Fargo, they have developed a logistical system in cooperation with local supermarkets that collects food that would've otherwise been wasted and redistributes it across the state. This includes perishables like fruits and vegetables. Last year, they distributed 11 MILLION pounds of food around the state, stocking pantries in both cities and rural areas.

I've think of a teacher friend right here in Bismarck, who tells me of children in her class who only get meals at school (in shoes and pants that are too small for them, asking to take off their shoes because their feet hurt), and the internal crisis she felt when their school's weekend Backpacks for Kids food supply program was discontinued.

I think of my grandpa, who was grateful for Meals on Wheels and would only eat half of the modest meal for lunch, saving the other half for dinner, and wonder how many other elderly depend on food services for their daily bread.

I think of the food pantry across the street from an office I used to work at, watching the Great Plains Food Bank truck pull up and bring not only canned goods, but fresh produce - lettuce, apples, carrots - week after week. Occasionally I would notice the people walking in. I'll admit I thought people with food insecurity would be visibly hungry, skinny and weak. But I've learned that our hunger issues are more subtle, quiet, hidden, but always just underneath the surface. Single mothers may have enough food to get them through the first three weeks of the month, but run out of cash that last week with their rent due soon. Children may have food resources on the weekdays, but not the weekends. Elderly can get a meal at their community center, but may have empty cupboards at home.

We can help. 30 people donating $10 and we're there!

To donate, click here and in the donation form in the company match line, enter "Rhubarb" to get the match through May 1.

And thank you, thank you, thank you.

Easy Eggs Benedict

2013-04-27T09:13:00.000-05:00

This is the moment you want to be in North Dakota.

We've been cooped up for six months, bundled under thermals, sweaters, coats, scarves, hats, gloves, and often big bulky snow boots, just our pink noses poking out, scurrying from our pre-warmed-with-car-starter vehicles to the nearest heated office building before going home to our heated garage and sitting by our gas fireplaces, complaining that, OMG, it is so freaking cold out. And let's not talk about all the mornings that started with an involuntary shoveling workout, mm-k?

But now, right now, is our moment of exhilaration, our moment of glory as the wonders of a North Dakota spring/summer begin. The thermometer says 72 degrees. The snow banks have been reduced to small slushy piles on the curbs. The birds - oh the birds! - they shatter winter's icy silence with their pretty little chirps, startling you with their song that you didn't realize you missed so much until now.

Of course, everyone is outside. People cancel their gym memberships and Netflix subscriptions because, well, who goes to the gym or stays in and watches movies in the summer? However, we don't just sit outside or stroll. We find projects. We build garden boxes. We wash windows. We walk the dog. I came home yesterday and found my husband in the driveway, building some contraption that might have been a goose blind or his attempt at a homemade camp cot, I'm not sure which, but it was his way of being outside on a perfect spring evening.

With spring comes rhubarb, strawberries, chives, fresh eggs, and of course, asparagus. This morning, while the birds chirped through my open kitchen window - yes, finally, throw open the windows! - I made these easy eggs Benedict with pile of asparagus, took a luscious bite, and officially welcomed spring and all its wonder.

Easy Eggs Benedict
This serves two (well, two plus a toddler of us), so size up accordingly for your family. Adapted from Family Circle magazine.

2 English muffins, toasted and buttered
4 eggs, plus 1 yolk
8 oz. asparagus, trimmed
Fresh lemon juice
Kosher salt or sea salt
Small pinch cayenne pepper
2 Tbls. butter
Chopped parsley

Fill a large flat-bottomed pot or pan with about 2" of water. Bring to a boil. Add asparagus and cook up to 2 mins, until crisp tender (don't overcook!). Remove asparagus with a slotted spoon, toss with 1 tsp. lemon juice, sprinkle lightly with salt, and set aside.

In the same pot with the same water, reduce heat to a simmer. Crack the four eggs and gently let them slip into the water one by one. Poach eggs 3-4 mins or until whites are set (yolks will still be somewhat runny). Remove with slotted spoon to a paper towel-lined plate.

While eggs are cooking, place egg yolk, 1 tsp. lemon juice, and a sprinkle of salt and cayenne in a blender; process until combined. Melt butter in a cup; let cool slightly, then slowly stream melted butter into blender while running; the hollandaise sauce should thicken immediately.

To serve, place two toasted and buttered English muffin halves on a plate, top each muffin half with a poached egg, sprinkle a little salt on each egg, drizzle with hollandaise sauce, sprinkle with parsley and serve with asparagus on the side.

Better Mac and Cheese

2013-04-13T16:28:00.000-05:00

For the record, I have made homemade macaroni and cheese. I've done the cream sauce, melted in the cheese, poured the saucy noodles into a 13x9, sprinkled it all with bread crumbs, baked it until it has that magical crust on top and pulled it out of the oven with the distinct thought that nothing in the world compares to homemade mac and cheese.

This post is not about homemade mac and cheese.

I've been fascinated by a campaign started by two bloggers to get Kraft to remove artificial food dyes from their macaroni and cheese products. Check this out:

They do it in Europe, replacing Yellow #5 and #6 with annatto and other natural alternatives; why can't they do it here? It looks the same, tastes the same, and the prices seems comparable. Plus, some have linked artificial food dyes to problems in children like hyperactivity, allergies and migraines.

Up to this point, with a petition including 270,000 signatures and a lot of people yelling on their Facebook page, still Kraft has said, "Sorry. No dice." They point to some of the varieties like their organic line (not available in my supermarket, btw) that don't include artificial colors. However, every single one of their blue boxes marketed to children have artificial colors and they plan to keep it that way.

Unless, of course, people stop buying it. So hey, let's stop buying it.

Of course, there are lots of quick meal alternatives to this classic pasta meal, but as the parent of a toddler, even I keep a couple boxes on quick mac and cheese on the shelf. I just buy it differently and make it differently.

Ready for better mac and cheese? Here are some ideas:

1. Buy Annie's or another organic natural option. I know, it costs a few pennies more, but I got Annie's on sale for $1/box this week. Vote with your dollar - even if it's just one dollar.

2. In the last minute or so of boiling, throw in some frozen peas. Or maybe you have some leftover cooked broccoli? Just throw it in the bottom of the colander before you drain; the hot water and residual heat of the pasta will warm it up.

3. When mixing in the cheese stuff, try adding a little plain (not non-fat) yogurt with the milk and butter. I don't like too much, just a hearty spoonful for a little added flavor and creaminess.

4. Dig in your fridge. Any leftover protein like ham or turkey? Chop it up and throw it in.

5. Fresh black pepper over macaroni and cheese. Always.

Migas in Mexico

2013-04-09T22:38:00.001-05:00

For one week, we turned off our cell phones.

For one week, we unplugged from Facebook, Twitter, the news, and TV (with the necessary exception of Friends reruns with Spanish subtitles).

For one week, I got to flex my rusty Spanish-speaking muscle and order "una cerveza, por favor" with that unique accent that only comes from a midwestern gringa, the mystical lingual sphere where lutefisk meets ceviche.

For one week, with Ben getting more spoiled by the minute in the paradise of grandma and grandpa's house, my love and I made a getaway to Cabo San Lucas and spoiled ourselves with the luxury of leisure. No lists. No chores. No deadlines. No agendas. No schedules. No make-up. No alarm clock.

No problem.

I adore Mexico. I've been to the east coast, west coast, and inland, and every time I get lucky enough to visit la tierra bonita, I fall in love all over again with the people, the language, the landscape, the sky, the art, and of course the FOOD. When I see the red, white and green of the Mexican bandera, I can't help but think the colors have to represent the perfect trifecta of tomato, queso fresco, and cilantro.

We stayed at a lovely small resort called Sirena Del Mar and our room had a well-equipped kitchen. I didn't do a lot of cooking; for breakfast we usually had café con leche and some sweet rolls we picked up for 3 pesos (30 cents) a piece at the panadería, lunch was always fish tacos at a taco shack, and then we'd get more adventurous going out for dinner. But a couple mornings, after waking up for an early swim in the ocean bay by our hotel, I had more of an appetite and whipped up my messy version of huevos rancheros, more commonly known by the Tex-Mex crowd as migas.

I make migas a lot at home, but of course they tasted better to me in my little Mexican kitchen. Maybe it was the real Mexican chorizo I used, or perhaps the ample supply of queso fresco in Cabo (hard to find in Bismarck). Maybe it was the fresh corn tortillas instead of the plastic-bagged ones available back home. Or maybe it was the fact that I was enjoying my migas with my legs kicked up on our balcony, waves crashing on the shore, my eyes scanning the horizon for the occasional whale sighting, my love at my side, and us grinning at each other at our stupid luck of being there, together, having that perfect moment, with a whole day of perfect moments ahead of us.

Migas
At home, I sometimes use the good unsalted Xochitl tortilla chips instead of frying corn tortillas. If you do this, just put the chips in the eggs a little earlier so they get a chance to soften up. Although flour tortillas are more popular in the Midwest, corn tortillas are the way to go here. This recipe serves two generously.

Vegetable oil
6 corn tortillas, torn into forkable bite-size pieces
Chorizo
6 eggs
Chopped tomato
Queso fresco, crumbled (in Bismarck, I find this at Target)
Chopped cilantro
Hot sauce (I like Cholula or Valentin)
Lime slices

First, fry the tortillas: heat 1-2 Tbls. vegetable oil in a skillet, then add the tortillas. Cook until lightly browned in spots, stirring occasionally, about 5 mins. Remove tortilla pieces from pan and set aside on a plate.

Next, cook the chorizo: add a little oil to the pan if needed and fry the chorizo, breaking it up with a spatula and cooking until cooked through, about 5 mins. Remove chorizo from pan and set aside on a plate.

Next, cook the eggs: add a little oil to the pan if needed and cook the eggs, scrambling, until starting to hold their shape but still somewhat soggy, not yet firm. Add the tortilla pieces and continue cooking and stirring until the eggs are cooked to your liking.

To serve, heap the egg/tortilla mixture onto serving plates. Top eggs with cooked chorizo, tomato, queso fresco and cilantro and serve with hot sauce and limes on the side.

Kneading Bread

2013-03-11T19:38:00.000-05:00

I just wanted real bread.

I found myself at the supermarket with a simple grocery list: oranges, carrots, olive oil, juice, bread.... I went to the bread aisle and stood in front of my plastic-bagged choices under the bright fluorescents of the modern grocery store. I noticed squishy loaves of Sara Lee were on sale, then I considered a loaf of whole wheat. I meandered over to the pumpernickle and take-and-bakes, looking for something else, something more. Standing there, I just couldn't reach out and pick one. I knew they were all the same. I knew I wanted real bread.

At home, I grabbed the bread flour my friend Amber gifted me from a recent trip to Kansas (she is truly one of the few people that knows me well enough to gift me a bag of flour and know I'd be thrilled), the yeast, the salt. I proofed the yeast in just-warm-enough water with a pinch of sugar. I warmed some buttermilk and measured flour into the bowl of my mixer, fully intending to use the paddle and hook attachments as any modern KitchenAid-equipped person would.

Only I didn't. I grabbed a wooden spoon instead and started stirring, the quiet of the kitchen uninterrupted. As the dough came together, I tipped the bowl onto the counter, rolled up my sleeves, and started kneading, slowly bringing more flour into the folds, feeling the warmth and heft of the dough in my hands, gauging the tackiness and elasticity to get it "just right."

The only time I take my wedding ring off is when I'm kneading dough. I never thought much about this before, as it's a completely practical move, but as I was kneading the dough in my tiny sun-lit kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, flour dusting my hands and worn t-shirt, the comforting warmth of the oven a step away, the quiet unbroken, for one brief moment, I felt myself fall away. I forgot about the yoga class I was going to try to catch later that day. I heard Ben playing trucks, but it was a distant sound. I knew my husband was in the other room, sitting in the sun reading, but it wasn't a conscious thought. I wasn't thinking about the chores I needed to do, or the articles I needed to write, or the garden I was going to plant this spring. I wasn't even really aware of me being me. I was simply a woman kneading, incorporating flour into dough into bread into nourishment into life like countless generations of women before me.

I just wanted real bread. What I received was so much more: it was a real connection.

Fish Cakes

2013-03-09T21:25:00.000-06:00

In my short canning career, I've canned a few batches of jam, some pretty darn good applesauce, and a batch of green beans that I actually had to throw out after my mom kindly advised me that canning green beans without a pressure cooker can actually kill me and my family.

Okie-dokie. Noted.

But in my canning world, my mother-in-law is the reigning queen. She cans walleye. And bonus, she shares generously with us.

I have not yet ventured into the world of canning proteins. I grew up on tuna fish on toast, so the concept of canned fish is not foreign, but I remember the first time I saw those clear jars of walleye chunks swimming in some reddish sauce. I thought it was the grossest thing ever. Now, however, canned walleye sits on the pantry shelf right next to the beans and vinegar. Usually my husband cracks open a jar, mixes it with some Hellman's and maybe a chopped pickle, and eats it on crackers. However, the other night, I wanted some greens and protein and thought fish cakes fit the bill.

As you probably don't have canned walleye sitting on your pantry shelf, go ahead and use tuna or canned salmon for an extra omega-3 boost. Of course, you can always cook up some fresh fish and flake it for fish cakes, but it seems like a waste of a fresh fillet to me.

As for canning walleye, I'm going to learn how to do it someday, but first things first: I need to figure out this whole non-lethal canned green bean thing.

Fish Cakes

Loosely adapted from the wonderful Bi-Rite Market's Eat Good Food cookbook. We were lucky enough to go to Bi-Rite Market during a trip to San Francisco last year. It's in the Mission District, just around the corner from Tartine - I was freaking out from the foodie joy of it all. A scoop of ice cream at Bi-Rite Creamery across the street from the market is an absolute must.

1 T extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup finely diced celery
1 large leek, white and light green parts only, finely diced - about 1 cup
Freshly ground black pepper
16 oz. canned fish (tuna, salmon, or your home-canned walleye...)
1 large egg
1 1/2 T fresh lemon juice
A pinch of cayenne pepper
1/4 cup mayonnaise
3 T capers - drained, rinsed, and coarsely chopped
1 T dill
1 cup finely crushed saltine crackers (salted top; if using unsalted crackers, add a healthy pinch of salt to the fish mixture)
Canola oil, for frying
Tartar sauce, for serving

In a medium skillet, heat the olive oil. Add the celery and leek, season with salt and black pepper and cook over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Let cool completely.

In a large bowl, combine the fish, egg, lemon juice and cayenne with 1/4 teaspoon of black pepper; mix well. Stir in the leek and celery along with the mayonnaise, capers, dill, and 1/4 cup of the cracker crumbs.

In a shallow bowl, spread the remaining cracker crumbs. Form the fish mixture into 3 1/2 inch patties. Dredge the patties in the crumbs and transfer to a parchment paper-lined baking sheet.

In a large nonstick skillet, heat 1/4" of canola oil until shimmering (the oil must be hot, otherwise you'll get greasy, soggy fish cakes). Add the fish cakes and fry over moderately high heat until browned on the bottom, about 2 minutes. Turn and fry until golden brown and cooked through, about 3 minutes longer. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Serve with tartar sauce and a green salad.

Pickle Juice Rye Bread

2013-02-26T19:47:00.001-06:00

You could probably divide a majority of the American population into two groups: people who think something like pickle juice rye bread sounds completely unappetizing, and people who can't wait to grab a slice, schmear it with mustard, add a big chunk of sausage and devour.

Put me in the latter category.

Now, to be fair, it takes a little courage to pour a whole cup of pickle juice into a bowl of flour and yeast. I didn't know if it would taste, well, pickle-y, and I wondered if the baking aroma would fill my whole house with the pungent fragrance of dill and vinegar.

But no. This bread didn't taste pickle-y at all. The pickle juice actually created a wonderful tangy sourdough-like flavor, all without the messy maintenance and feeding of a sourdough starter (trust me, I've done it). The rye flour is mixed with white bread flour, so even the rye flavor isn't especially strong. It's just a simple rustic hearty bread that goes perfect with a big chunk of our homemade summer sausage, perhaps a strong cheese, and a dark beer. My German-Russian ancestors would approve.

I told my dad and step-mom how I was planning to make pickle juice rye bread. This turned into a discussion on the practicalities of pickle juice as an ingredient. A little bit in potato salad or macaroni salad makes it just right; I actually always put a little bit in my tuna salad, unknowingly shadowing something my father has done for years. And, in a soft voice, my step-mom shared one of her culinary secrets: "You know, Claussen is the best pickle juice." Well then.

Pickle Juice Rye Bread
The original recipe was in the recent February issue of Food & Wine magazine. I didn't measure completely accurately, so my dough turned out a little wet, and thus my loaf didn't rise perfectly, but it still was tasty. Although I love me some mustard and cheese on rye, I found myself just eating slices plain, savoring the tangy sourdough flavor. If you don't have a pizza stone, just proceed without.

1 3/4 cups stone-ground dark rye flour
2 1/4 cups bread flour, plus more for dusting
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon lukewarm water
1 cup strained juice from a jar of dill pickles, at room temperature
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
Vegetable oil, for greasing

Preheat the oven to 350. On a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper, thinly spread the rye flour. Toast for about 12 minutes, stirring every 4 minutes, until fragrant and just slightly darkened. Let cool.

In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the dough hook, combine the toasted rye flour with the 2 1/4 cups of bread flour, the water, pickle juice, yeast, sugar and salt. Mix at low speed until well combined, about 1 minute. Increase the speed to medium and mix until the dough just starts to pull away from the side and bottom of the bowl, about 3 minutes; it will still be sticky and shaggy.

Meanwhile, lightly oil a large bowl. With oiled hands, shape the dough into a ball and transfer to the oiled bowl. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rise in a warm place for 1 hour; the dough will rise only slightly.

Invert the dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Flatten gently and fold the edge into the center. Invert and return the dough to the oiled bowl. Cover and let rise in a draft-free place until puffy, about 1 hour.

Lightly oil a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan. Invert the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and flatten into a 10-inch square. Roll up the dough to form a 10-inch log. Fit the loaf into the prepared pan, seam side down, tucking the ends underneath. Press the dough gently into the corners of the pan. Cover loosely and let rise in a warm place until the dough is just above the rim of the pan and no longer springs back to the touch, about 2 1/2 hours.

Set a pizza stone on the second-lowest rack in the oven and a cast-iron skillet on the bottom of the oven. Preheat the oven to 400 for at least 30 minutes. Place the loaf pan on the pizza stone. Add 1 cup of ice to the skillet and shut the oven. Bake for about 55 minutes, until the bread is lightly browned on top and the bottom of the pan sounds hollow when tapped; remove the skillet halfway through baking. Unmold the loaf onto a rack and let the bread cool before slicing.

Bountiful Baskets - the Lowdown

2013-02-16T16:27:00.002-06:00

On my Facebook page, I posted that I ordered my first Bountiful Basket. This generated a lot of great comments and questions, and now that I've picked up my first basket, I'm happy to share the B.B. lowdown.

What is it?
Bountiful Baskets Food Co-op is a weekly food pick-up of primarily fruits and vegetables. Get the details on the B.B. website.

How does it work?
1) You sign up for an account on the Bountiful Baskets website.

2) At the "start time" of your state, you log into the website, click "Participate Now", select your state and location, and order a basket, paying on the website. North Dakota's start time is at noon on Mondays. As pick-up locations fill up, those location options close on the website. For example, this week, I've been told the Bismarck pick-up filled by 12:08 pm, the Mandan pick-up by 12:30, so basically you need to log in right at noon on Monday and place your order (unless you live near a less busy location). There are approx. 100 baskets per location. Click here for a list of current ND locations.

3) You then pick up your produce and other ordered items at the designated time and place later that week (my Mandan pick-up was Saturday at 1:45 pm). They will NOT hold it for you if you forget to pick up. Also, you do NOT have to order every week; you choose when you order, and you pay per order.

How much does it cost?
Aside from the $3 first time user fee, my "basket" cost $16 (or maybe it was $16.50). There is an organic basket option for an additional $10. Using my unscientific "this is what I think I usually pay for this" method of calculating retail price, my retail estimate for my basket came to $28.50.

What do you get?
You never know what exactly you'll get in your basket; it changes every week, and according to people in line, sometimes you get crazy stuff like yuzu fruit, but typically it's your more traditional fare, always 1/2 fruit, 1/2 veg. Here's what I got this week:

9 tangerines
7 bananas
2 avocados
3 apples
5 lb. bag of yukon gold potatoes
2 leeks
1 head iceberg lettuce
1 pineapple
1 large bunch broccoli
4 green peppers
2 pints cherry tomatoes
1 bunch spinach

You also have the option of adding bread, granola, coconut oil, flats of oranges, and other seemingly random items to your order on the website. Being more of a seasonal eater, I don't typically purchase cherry tomatoes in the winter, I'm not an iceberg lettuce eater, and in general I try to minimize my tropical fruit consumption, so I can't say I'd typically purchase all these items, but there is certainly some variety here.

How's the quality?
Very good - everything seemed fresh. The bananas, avocados and pineapple were underripe, which is how they are typically transported, so it seems like everything came right off the truck. Certainly nothing seemed moldy or past its prime.

Is the produce local?
Hell no. Not all the produce was labeled, but the items that were came from the U.S. and Mexico. Actually, most of it seemed to come from Mexico. Plus, I don't think the co-op's distribution system really allows for locally procured items. For example, I don't see how one small farmer's North Dakota potatoes could get in the distribution cycle. It seems to be the same items from a supermarket distribution route, but where exactly it comes from, I do not know. A woman I spoke to in line said it started in Washington state and the produce comes direct from farms, cutting out the middleman. But we're talking about the enormous corporate farms of California and Mexico; certainly not Ma and Pa farms.

What happens at the pick-up?
You must go to the designated location at the designated time. Look for a bunch of mini-vans and women holding empty laundry baskets - that's your pick-up spot. In addition to something to carry the produce, you must bring the order# that you get when you place your order online - you may not be able to pick up if you aren't able to verify your order#. The volunteers verify what you ordered, then hand you a couple baskets of produce, which you then transfer to your own basket. That's it.

So Beth, what's your personal opinion of the whole thing?
Well, so glad you asked. I think it's a good thing. Good quality food for a good price. Yes, it sucks that it's not local, and in an ideal world, we would all join an organic CSA and have backyard gardens - and I, for one, will definitely be keeping my CSA share and backyard garden. However, I also believe that a family who has more produce in the home will eat more produce, local or otherwise, and that is always a good thing. There were all ages and sizes of people there - heavy people, lean people, small children, teenagers, yuppie types, elderly, etc, and standing in line, it was cool to observe people carrying all these colorful veggies out, seeing a small child be excited about broccoli, or a large woman carrying a flat of oranges. It's not local, but it's also not McNuggets.

Also, I see this as an especially good option for rural communities. I have a dear cousin in Baker, MT (hi Amber!) who has been a loyal B.B. customer for quite awhile and loves the fact that she can get a good variety of good produce in what many people would consider "the middle of nowhere." There are many rural communities on the pick-up list, showing this as one way to eliminate rural North Dakota "food deserts" when it comes to nutritious fresh food.

So is Bountiful Baskets perfect? No. Is it a nice option? Yes. Can it co-exist with supermarkets, CSAs, local food co-ops, and backyard gardens? Absolutely.

I'd love to hear your comments on it as well. If you have any other questions, feel free to comment below or comment on my Facebook page.

Happy eating!

Roasted Chickpeas

2013-02-05T21:36:00.000-06:00

I like to cook. I think that much is clear. And I bet you do too, since you are reading this. You can probably relate to the thrill of digging through cookbooks, the eager anticipation of the meal to come, the simple beauty of good ingredients, hearing the sizzle of the onion hitting the hot oil, the aromas, the tastes, and most importantly, sharing a good meal with loved ones.

But here's my dirty little secret: I don't cook every night. I don't subscribe to the idea that (wo)man must eat a hot meal of meat, potato, and veg seven days a week. I love a good snack-meal. I think cheese, crackers, and a hearty glass of red wine make a perfectly acceptable dinner on an occasional weekday evening. Or fruit and yogurt. Or popcorn. Just this evening, dinner was a quick egg salad served on toast with a side of canned peaches. And it was absolutely perfect.

Sometimes, when I just want a little something for dinner, I open a can of chickpeas, rinse them, coat them in EVOO and seasonings, and roast them until they are crispy. That's it. So easy, it's become one of my favorite snack-meals, preferably with a cold beer. And clearly, I've been making these for awhile - I blogged about roasted chickpeas here three years ago. Bonus: little Ben loves them too, although he's more of a Juicy Juice man instead of Fat Tire.

Roasted Chickpeas
Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman

1 15-oz. can garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drained, rinsed, and patted dry
1 Tbls. olive oil
Kosher or sea salt, freshly ground pepper and/or seasonings of your choice to taste (smoked paprika and zatar are two of my favorites)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place the chickpeas on a rimmed baking sheet or roasting pan. Drizzle with olive oil and lightly sprinkle with salt and seasonings. Place pan in the oven and roast for 15-20 minutes, stirring the chickpeas occasionally, until crispy and starting to brown in spots. Remove from oven and serve warm.

Mallobars

2013-02-03T11:20:00.000-06:00

I was surprised to learn recently that I have annoying habits. I thought my husband was the only one in our dynamic duo that annoyed the other, but one day, he casually mentioned that he found my habit of leaving cupboard doors open a little annoying.

I had no idea that I leave cupboard doors open. But, I hate to admit it, after he pointed it out, he's right. I do and I have no idea why. Maybe in the back of my mind, I think I'm going to need to get back to that cupboard very soon, so it's a time-saver to just leave the door flung open. Until I smack my head into the corner of a cupboard door, but that's another story entirely.

I also have an annoying habit of making things like these mallobars, just because they are pretty and I wanted to learn how to make homemade marshmallow, but then realize that now someone needs to eat these. It's a tall order, but I dig in, cutting through the thin top chocolate layer, the fluffy marshmallow layer, and finally the firm graham cracker cookie bottom, and portion out a small chunk for myself. And then another little sliver. And then another, just enough for a couple bites. After a chug of milk, I consider one more, you know, for dessert. Maybe two.

SomeonepleasecomeandtaketheseawayfrommeseriouslyIhaveaproblem...

Fortunately of me, mallobars will be an occasional treat since these aren't as easy to make as a brownie box mix - there are many steps to the process, but you can break it up. I made the bottom cookie layer after work one day, then the rest another night. You also need equipment - a candy thermometer and a stand-mixer...ok, maybe you can use a hand-held mixer, but I pity the person who tries to whip up the marshmallow by hand. But the results are so pretty and tasty. Just have a distribution plan in place afterwards because, as I have discovered, leaving them on your kitchen counter makes them very, very prone to consumption.

Mallobars
From COOK THIS NOW by Melissa Clark. Makes about 18 (2-inch) squares

for the graham cracker base
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
1/4 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup honey
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

for the honey marshmallow
3 envelopes unflavored gelatin (about 3 tablespoons)
1 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cup honey
2 large egg whites
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

for the chocolate glaze
9 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3/4 cup heavy cream

First, make the graham cracker base. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the butter, sugars, and honey until smooth. In a medium bowl, combine the flours, salt, and cinnamon. Add the dry ingredients to the mixer and beat until the dough just comes together. Wrap the dough in plastic and pat into a disc. Chill the dough for at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.

When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a 9 x 13-inch baking pan with foil or parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, or in between two sheets of parchment paper, roll out the dough into a rectangle that just fits the prepared pan. Carefully transfer the dough to the prepared pan. Squish it to fit if it starts to tear (the dough is soft). Prick dough all over with a fork. Bake the graham cracker base until golden brown, 18 to 20 minutes. Allow the crust to cool completely before topping with the marshmallow. (The graham cracker base can be made a few days ahead; store, covered in foil, at room temperature.)

While the graham cracker base cools, prepare the honey marshmallow. Place the gelatin in the cold water to bloom. In a saucepan over medium heat, cook the sugar, honey, and 1/2 cup water, stirring until the sugar dissolves, until the mixture reaches 240°F on a candy thermometer.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, whisk the egg whites and salt until soft peaks form. When the sugar mixture has come up to temperature, carefully pour it into the egg whites while whisking. Continue whisking until the mixture has cooled slightly, about 1 minute, and add the gelatin and water mixture and the vanilla. Continue whisking until the mixture begins to thicken and quadruples in volume, 5 to 7 minutes. Scrape the marshmallow onto the graham cracker base and smooth the top with a spatula. Allow the marshmallow to set for 4 hours or overnight at room temperature.

To prepare the chocolate glaze, place the chocolate pieces in a bowl. In a saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the cream just to a boil. Pour the cream over the chocolate and whisk until the chocolate has melted and the glaze is smooth and shiny. Pour the glaze onto the set marshmallow and smooth with a spatula. Allow the glaze to set, about 30 minutes, before cutting into squares.

Israeli Couscous Salad

2013-01-27T17:58:00.001-06:00

Cruising the grocery aisles recently, I came across Israeli couscous and I was thrilled. (Clearly, I'm easily entertained.) I remember a few years ago having a hard time finding just regular couscous in Bismarck's local grocery stores. To see something as seemingly obscure as Israeli couscous now is just cool. If you haven't tried it, Israeli couscous is pearl couscous, larger than regular couscous with a more chewy, toothsome texture.

I brined and roasted a wild turkey for Sunday dinner, but in the depths of winter my palate was craving some sunshine and brightness - enough roasted squash, give me mint and citrus, something fresh and light tasting. To think that I can create and enjoy this beautiful salad in the middle of winter in the middle of North Dakota - it's a tiny miracle. I'm a local food superfan, but I also appreciate the fact that I can find lemons, kalamata olives, and fresh mint in my local grocery store in January.

Frankly, I could've just eaten this salad as my entree, but the turkey was tasty too. If you're pairing this salad with meat, it would actually go better with a more spring-y protein, like a gorgeous piece of salmon or maybe even lamb, with the Middle Eastern flavors going on here.

I say yes to eating seasonally, yes to eating locally, but also yes to eating with diversity, trying new flavors and textures, experimenting, and allowing a little taste of sunshine break through on a cold winter afternoon.

PS - this is my 500th post! I can't believe it's been five years. Beside helping me find my way around my wild game and garden veg kitchen, this simple blog has become a beautiful little community for me of like-minded visitors and friends who inspire me every day. Plus, Rhubarb and Venison has opened up so many doors. I did not consider myself a writer five years ago, but today I find such joy and sense of accomplishment by writing on one little aspect of the rich food culture in my corner of the world. So thank you - friends and strangers, long-time readers and new, thanks for visiting. Here's to the next 500 posts!

Israeli Couscous Salad
From The Cook and The Butcher cookbook by Brigit Binns. Do not skip toasting the almonds - in fact, I say toasty nuts are always better (insert your joke of choice here). Whether adding walnuts to brownies or almonds to a salad, toast the nuts for a few minutes; it makes a huge difference.

1/4 cup plus 2 Tbls. extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 cup slivered almonds
1 red onion, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 and 1/2 cups Israeli couscous
2 cups veg or chicken stock or broth
Salt and pepper
2 blood oranges (ok to substitute regular navel oranges)
1/3 cup pitted brine-cured olives, such as kalamata, finely chopped
2 Tbls. fresh lemon juice
2 Tbls. finely chopped mint
1/4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

In a small skillet, heat 1 Tbls olive oil. Add the almonds and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until golden brown, about 5 mins. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate.

In a medium saucepan, heat 1 Tbls olive oil. Add onion and garlic and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 mins. Add couscous and cook, stirring, until lightly toasted, about 5 mins. Add stock, season with salt and pepper, and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer over low heat until couscous is tender and liquid is absorbed, about 8 mins. Transfer couscous to large bowl and stir in remaining 1/4 c. olive oil; let cool slightly.

Using a sharp knife, peel the oranges, removing all the bitter white pith. Working over a bowl, cut in between the membranes to release the sections into the bowl. Fluff the couscous and fold in orange segments, olives, lemon juice, mint, almonds and parsley. Season with salt and pepper if needed and serve.

Sweet Potato Cake

2013-01-09T21:35:00.002-06:00

Leftover sweet potatoes? Lucky you. You can mash them, make biscuits, warm them up with a little curry sauce and a smattering of peanuts and cilantro (ok, now THAT sounds good)...or make this lovely little sweet potato cake. And then you can share your sweet potato cake with your little sweet potato.

I unfortunately caught the flu bug recently, so my diet has consisted of tea, toast, oranges, veg soup, Mucinex, and a couple monster cookies because my sweet tooth does not take sick days. But today I started feeling better - almost normal! - and made this little cake. A tiny celebration cake? Maybe. Or maybe it was just my sweet tooth acting up again.

This is actually a not-so-sugary-sweet cake. It's a cross between cake and quick bread. It goes perfect with a cup of hot milky black tea on a cold January eve...like the eves we'll be having this weekend. -5 degrees for a high temp, anyone?

Still, I love North Dakota and I LOVE the four seasons. I understand when those Arizona folks gloat a bit, saying things like "You can't shovel sunshine!" But I love the winter just like I love the summer, spring and fall. I love marking the changes of seasons and how North Dakotans only do certain things at certain times. In the winter, we dig into hotdish and pot roasts while gym memberships and video rentals go up...and then we ditch the gym and the den in the summer to garden, play softball, and eat our weight in watermelon while bumming on the Missouri River sandbars, soaking in a year's worth of vitamin D. So I say relish winter, and while it's cold outside and the oven is hot, bake a few extra sweet potatoes. You never know when they'll come in handy.

Sweet potato cake, tucked into its little glass cake holder for the evening.

Sweet Potato Cake
Adapted from Melissa Clark's wonderful cookbook Cook This Now. She is both an amazing cook and fabulous food writer with the NY Times. Can you tell I'm a fan?

1 large baked sweet potato, peeled (flesh must be very soft)
1/2 c. vegetable oil
1 c. brown sugar
1 and 3/4 c. PLUS 2 Tbls. all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1/8 tsp. allspice
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 eggs
1/3 c. milk
1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbls. powdered sugar
1 scant Tbls. brandy or rum
1/2 Tbls. amaretto liquor
2 Tbls. butter

Mash sweet potato into a smooth puree, leaving no chunks. Measure out 3/4 cup of puree and set it aside (give any remaining sweet potato puree to your toddler - he'll eat it up).

Grease an 8" round cake pan with oil or butter. In a medium bowl, whisk all but two Tbls. of the brown sugar (you'll use the remaining 2 Tbls. in the glaze later) with the flour, baking soda, nutmeg, allspice, and salt. In a large bowl, whisk the 3/4 cup sweet potato puree with eggs, milk, vanilla and oil. Stir in dry ingredients. Scrape batter into pan and bake for 1 hour until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Transfer to a rack and let cake cool completely in the pan.

When the cake is cool, make the glaze: in a small saucepan, combine remaining 2 Tbls. brown sugar with powdered sugar, liquors, a small pinch of salt, and butter. Cook over moderately low heat until butter is melted, sugar is dissolved, and you have a caramel-like sauce. Turn the cake out of its pan and set it right side up. Drizzle glaze over the top. Serve with cold glasses of milk or hot tea or coffee.

Green Soup

2013-01-01T21:10:00.000-06:00

On the first day of the New Year, I:

- Ate leftover risotto for breakfast, a savory breakfast win in a fit of "waste not, want not" leftover madness

- Went sledding with my son, bombing down the hill on my butt

- Painted a bathroom and a hallway (with lots of kind assistance from my husband)

- Cleaned and semi-organized my pantry. Yes, this is the AFTER picture, in case you were wondering...controlled chaos.

An excellent start to 2013, I dare say. And then I made a pot of green soup. Looks odd, but totally delicious, and nourishing down to the marrow of your bones. Think of it as jumpstarting the new year with real good goodness.

Soup is a point of contention in our household. I love soup, especially brothy, vegetably, beany soups that can be classified as salad in a ladle. Meanwhile, my dear spouse is more of a knife-and-fork kind of guy, although he'll take a bowl of soup if there is enough meat and/or cheese in it to keep a spoon standing upright. So know that I made this green soup for me, just for me, with no expectation that the rest of my family would eat it, but knowing full well that they are totally missing out.

I poured myself this bowl, took a photo, then ate it. Then I went back to the pot and stood over the stove, dipping my spoon in and eating more right out of the pot; after all, it's just my soup. It's light and flavorful, with caramelized onions giving it depth in flavor, cayenne pepper adding a little heat and lemon juice bringing sunny brightness. And I don't need to tell you how good you'll feel after eating this much spinach/kale/broccoli/chard/whatever greens you put in this.

Oh, but one tip: after eating this soup, check your smile. No one wants to start the New Year with spinach between their teeth.

Green Soup

From the lovely book Love Soup. The recipe is completely open to variation. I used kale, broccoli puree that I had in the freezer, and spinach. It's worth noting that 101 Cookbooks did a gorgeous, not pureed version with ginger - check it out here. Use what you have, waste not, want not.

2 Tbls. olive oil

2 medium yellow onions, chopped

1 tsp. salt

1/4 cup arborio rice OR 1 small potato

1 lb. greens: chard, kale, mustard greens, beet greens, broccoli, turnip greens...whatever

12 oz. spinach

4 c. vegetable broth

Big pinch cayenne pepper

1 Tbls. lemon juice (or more to taste)

Heat oil in large skillet over high heat. Add onions and 1/4 tsp. salt; cook, stirring, until onions begin to brown, about 5 mins. Reduce heat to low, add 2 Tbls. water and cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are greatly reduced and have a caramel color, 25 mins.

Meanwhile, combine 3 c. water, remaining 3/4 tsp. salt, and rice (or potato) in a soup pot. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer, cover and cook 15 mins. Trim ribs and tough stems from greens and spinach; discard. Coarsely chop greens and spinach, keeping them separate.

When rice has cooked 15 mins, stir in greens (not the spinach yet). Cover and cook 10 mins. When onions are caramelized, add them to rice along with spinach, broth and cayenne. Cook until spinach is tender but still bright green, about 5 mins more.

Puree soup in pot using either immersion blender or in batches in regular blender. Stir in lemon juice and garnish with extra olive oil.

The "French Women Don't Get Fat" Leek Soup Thing

2012-12-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

How do I love leeks, let me count the ways. They are unfortunately expensive compared to the more humble onion, and one always feels wasteful when chopping off the green half to use the tender white lower half as most recipes indicate (although you can always save the green parts for your next batch of stock). But with such a mild flavor, tender texture and pretty coloring, they feel elegant, like I should be cooking my soup while wearing heels and cashmere, ooh la la.

Or maybe it was that French Women Don't Get Fat book that put that silly notion in my head that leeks = trés elegant.

This book was all the rage a few years ago and grocery stores even talked about a massive run on leeks because of the book's "magical" leek soup, which claims that when French women want to lose a few pounds, they lock themselves away for a weekend sipping on magical leek broth and eating nothing but the plain boiled leeks when they "feel hungry."

I secretly admire those people who sometimes just forget to eat (*oops*), realizing at 3 pm they haven't had breakfast yet, or who can eat nothing but boiled leeks all weekend. I am not one of these people, and as a regular eater, I do not subscribe to the French Women Don't Get Fat leek soup fast, as I know myself well enough that after 24 hours, I'll get ravenously hungry and then binge on Bugles, washing them down with a pint of vanilla bean Haagen Dazs. However, I still do the leek soup thing as a meal, especially after a feast day. I like the clean taste of the leek broth, served in a mug to warm my wintered hands, and I'll happily nibble on the boiled leeks for a simple-as-a-dimple lunch with a drizzle of olive oil and a little salt and pepper.

It can be surprisingly gratifying to pare down to the absolute basics and taste something so clean and light for once. And if you enjoy it so much that you want to do the magical leek soup thing all weekend, be my guest. Just hide the Bugles.

"Magical" Leek Soup
I think of it as recalibrating the palate after too much holiday sugar, fat and salt. It's just clean, pure goodness. Your tummy will thank you.

1 lb. leeks (or however many leeks you want)
Water to cover

Chop off the green stalks and save for your stock pot at a later date. Using the white and light green part of the leek, cut off the root end, cut in half lengthwise, and rinse well as sometimes bits of soil will hide between the leek layers. Place the leeks in a pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and simmer uncovered for 20 mins. Pour off liquid to sip as soup; eat leeks warm with a drizzle of olive oil, maybe some lemon, and salt and pepper.

For the Love of Tea

2012-12-26T06:00:00.000-06:00

A cuppa ginger tea to cure what ails you.

Crab legs. Prime rib. Fudge. Eggnog. Wine. Lasagna. Toffee. Caramels. Truffles. Ginger cookies. Sugar cookies. Peanut butter kiss cookies.

So what did you enjoy over the holidays?

I love to celebrate, and am endlessly grateful for the bounty of food that surrounds us, but when the joy and cheer of December 25th passes by, I feel a deep need to rebalance. I don't diet. I don't detox. I don't cleanse or fast or do anything else that you could categorize as trendy. But I do like to pare down to the simplest, most nourishing foods I can find sometimes. I find it not only brings me back to my usual light-stepping, flexible, lean-mean-machine self, but I feel calmer, more clearheaded, even more energetic.

Over the next few days, I'd like to share some of my favorite simple foods that help me push the reset button: just clean, real food that cleans my palate, my stomach, my mind. And as 2013 approaches, maybe you'll find some things that you'd like to try out, helping to start off 2013 with clear eyes and an open heart.

So my favorite teas. I love a cup of black English Breakfast with a swirl of 2% and chamomile is a favorite evening tisane, but these are my two superhero teas for post-holiday rebalancing and recharging.

Green Tea
Green tea is a morning elixir, a cup of springtime, a flavor I can only describe as grassy, and I mean it in the best way possible. The health benefits are well-known, but most green teas on the supermarket shelves aren't very tasty - and tea should be a pleasure, not a "I'm only drinking this because it's good for me" punishment. If the only way you are going to make green tea is to buy it pre-packaged in a tea bag - and if you like the taste - then by all means do it! I buy that on occasion, but I heart whole leaf tea: fuller/better flavor, more varieties, and I get to hang out at my favorite local tea store, Steep Me, when I need to stock up. Win win. Quick tip: if you find green tea tastes bitter, lower your water temp a bit. Boiling hot water actually makes green tea bitter; try hot water just under a boil and you'll probably get a better taste.

Ginger Tea
For me, ginger tea is a winter cure-all, from sniffles to sneezes to a chill felt deep in my bones. Its spicy flavor clears my head and warms me up. You can find ginger tea in tea bags, but I just buy a knob of fresh ginger and make it one of two ways:

1) Cut a small peeled knob of ginger into thin slices and place in a pan with 2 cups of water. Simmer, covered, for 15 mins. Strain and serve.

2) Grate a peeled knob of ginger. Squeeze the grated ginger to extract the ginger juice. Mix about 1/2 tsp. ginger juice with each 6-8 oz. of hot water, adding more or less to taste.

Add a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of honey to your ginger tea and that is winter tea heaven, my friend.

English Toffee

2012-12-20T21:03:00.001-06:00

My folks came home for the holidays from Arizona last night. They came over to our place just a couple hours after landing in beautiful snowy Bismarck. Although I like to think they sprinted right over because they were excited to see Yours Truly, their faces really lit up when their only grandchild ran up to them and gave them big hugs.

I can't really blame them, can I? Cutie patootie.

We sat around the dining table drinking beer and nibbling on roasted chickpeas (one of my favorite beer snacks) and walleye "salad" on Triscuits (one of hubby's favs, made with canned walleye, mayo, a little pickle and onion). They told us tales of life in AZ's Maricopa County, which we now know entails lots of driveway chats with the neighbors, daily bike rides, Tuesday senior discounts, and Canadian neighbors "who really party hardy". And then I put the tray of English toffee on the table, and there was that quiet moment as everyone leaned in to grab a piece, break off the first bite, and then declare it "addictive."

I'd never made toffee before - a stroke of Christmas cheer made me do it - and was surprised how easy it was to make. Granted, it was probably made easier by the fact that I spread the hot candy on a Silpat mat, so zero stickiness issues. And although the toffee itself is crisp, buttery, sweet goodness, the fact that I added a generous layer of chocolate and covered the whole mess with roasted almonds didn't hurt it one bit. Nope, not one iota.

Here's wishing you a very Merry Christmas!

English Toffee

Adapted from the Miette cookbook. You'll need a Silpat mat and a candy thermometer (or do what I do and use your meat thermometer). Makes about 3 and 1/2 pounds.

1 and 1/2 cups whole almonds

1 cup butter

1 cup sugar

1 Tbls. vanilla extract

1 and 1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/3 c. water

1 and 1/2 pounds chocolate (the better the chocolate, the better the final product. I prefer dark chocolate, but milk chocolate is fine too)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread the almonds on a baking sheet and toast until lightly browned, about 8 minutes (you'll start to smell the divine roasted almond fragrance, telling you - no, urging you - to take them out of the oven). Let cool and chop finely.

Line a baking sheet with sides (a jelly roll pan) with a silicone baking mat and set aside. In a medium saucepan, combine butter, sugar, vanilla, salt and water over medium low heat. Clip a candy thermometer to the side of the pan and cook, whisking, until butter has melted. Increase the heat to medium high and cook, whisking constantly, until the mixture reaches 300 degrees, about 15 to 20 mins.

Pour the hot toffee onto the prepared baking sheet. Spread into a thin, even layer (you may not fill the entire pan, depending on the size of your pan), and let cool for at least 45 minutes before adding the chocolate.

Place the chocolate in a glass bowl and microwave to melt, stirring every 30 seconds until it has melted completely, looks smooth, and is no more than 110 degrees. Wipe off any excess oil on top of the toffee with a paper towel. Spread the top of the cooled toffee with the warm chocolate and sprinkle with the nuts. Let set at room temperature until hard, about an hour. Break into pieces and store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Beth's Best Banana Bread

2012-12-08T12:29:00.001-06:00

When I get a new cookbook with lots of photos in it, I make my husband sit down and flip through it with me. I do this under the guise of getting his opinion on what looks good, subtly implying that I'll prepare whichever ones he finds the most appetizing. But really, I do this just because I love a new cookbook and want to share that joy with someone - even someone who is less enthusiastic than myself. Plus, it's good payback for all the decoys, bullets, and variations of fishing line I've had to stare at in the Cabela's catalog as he outlines the pros and cons of each one for me. He means well.

I remember during one of these forced cookbook photo review sessions seeing a pic of half-eaten pasta, the sauce remnants smeared against the empty section of the plate. "Ew, why would they do that?" he asks. "Totally unappetizing." Yet, here I am, showing you an empty plate as a representation - a metaphor, if you will - of the delicious banana bread that was. However, I have an excuse: a cute little bugaboo snagged the last piece.

This is more like banana cake than banana bread, really. It bakes up well (no flat squat loaves here), has tons of banana with the right level of sweetness, and the streusel on top is a great addition (although you can see it's pretty messy). And since my hubby loves chocolate chips in his, I made a special loaf just for him, swirling a hefty handful of chips into the batter.

I pulled the banana bread out of the oven late at night. We cut into each still-warm loaf (mine pecans only, his with chocolate chips) and stood by the sink in our pjs with a shared glass of milk. As we munched, staring at the darkness outside the window, he turns and tells me, "You know, I think this is the best banana bread you've ever made."

That man knows how to warm my heart.

(Josie, this recipe is for you.)

Beth's Best Banana Bread
Adapted from Miette, a cookbook of sweets from a San Francisco bakery. It's loveliness. Makes two standard 8" loaves. (Quick tip: if you don't have kosher salt and use regular table salt instead, remember to reduce the salt measurement by half)

Streusel
1/2 c. pecan pieces
1/4 c. packed brown sugar
1/3 c. all-purpose flour
2 Tbls. cold butter
3/4 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. vanilla
Pinch of salt

Banana bread
2 and 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 and 1/2 c. sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 c. vegetable oil
4 medium, soft bananas, peeled and roughly mashed
1/2 c. pecan pieces

Butter two 8" x 4" loaf pans and dust with flour. Tap out the excess flour. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

To make the streusel, put all the streusel ingredients in a food processor and pulse until coarsely combined. Store in the fridge until ready to use.

To make the banana bread, sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt; set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whisk sugar, eggs and vanilla on medium speed until well combined and lightened in color, about 4 min. Reduce the speed to low and drizzle in oil, whisking just until combined. Add the banana mash and whisk just until combined. Slowly add the dry ingredients and pecans, whisking just until combined; do not overmix.

Pour batter into prepared pans and sprinkle tops with streusel. Bake until the breads have risen nicely and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 45 mins. Cool in the pans for 15 mins, then remove from pans and cool on a wire rack.

Potato Soup with Smoked Trout

2012-11-25T21:22:00.000-06:00

I've decided November is my favorite month. Or at least in the top three. With Thanksgiving and Veterans Day and the frigid winds that herald in nature's silent season, November is introspective, reflective, and filled with gratitude. It's a time where instead of mowing the lawn and pulling weeds, you brew a pot of tea and think about how the purpose of life is really as simple as life itself, living it fully and well every hour every day rather than any notion of an endgame or final goal. Having decided that, you release the silly thought that you ought to be shopping for bargains or painting the garage floor, and instead cozy up with that Dickens book you've always meant to read, deciding as you turn the first page that you will read for the beauty of the language rather than plot alone, and the tea is tepid when you look up, glance outside, and notice the shadows of the trees are longer against the snowy landscape, the first pinks of a North Dakota sunset tinging the sky.

Yes, I do love November.

Potato soup is a perfect November meal with its simple, quiet dignity, yet one remembers it is through the simplest things - the seemingly routine moments - that grace most clearly shines through. The potato, the most humble of root vegetables, is simmered and pureed with pheasant stock and cream. Dark pumpernickel bread gets cubed, oiled, barely salted, then toasted in the oven to make croutons. Morsels of smoked trout from a bounty of fish in northern Manitoba last spring tops it all, with a dash of dill. A chilled dark beer accompanies the meal, a lovely balance of flavors and temperatures and textures all dancing on your palate, and you feel nothing but thankfulness for the beauty of the moment, for the nourishment of the meal, for the warmth of your kitchen, and most of all for the loved ones at your side.

Potato Soup with Smoked Trout

Adapted from The Art of Living According to Joe Beef, by two Montreal chefs/regular Joe kinda guys. (Beth's bucket list item #29: Visit Montreal and order poutine.) Clearly, you can substitute chicken broth for the pheasant stock. If you can't find smoked trout, smoked salmon would be wonderful here too, or even some good bits of ham could sub in.

2 lbs. potatoes, peeled and cut into 1" pieces (about 6 medium potatoes)

About 3 cups pheasant stock (more if you like a thinner soup)

2 cups whipping cream

1 garlic clove, thinly sliced

2 Tbls. butter

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

1/2 lb. smoked trout fillets, skin removed, flesh flaked

Pumpernickel croutons and dill, for garnish

In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the potatoes over moderate heat until tender, about 12 minutes. Drain well in a strainer, then just keep the potatoes in the strainer with a lid over them.

Wipe out the pot. Add the stock, cream and garlic, and bring to a simmer. Cook over moderately low heat until the garlic is very tender, about 8 minutes. Add the potatoes, then puree either using an immersion blender or pureeing in batches in a blender. Season with salt and pepper. Ladle soup into bowls and top with trout, croutons and dill.

Walleye Tacos

2012-11-20T21:08:00.002-06:00

Quietly awaiting their dousing of salsa and cilantro...

Here's a random list of foods I did not like as a child, but now quite enjoy:

walnuts
Brussels sprouts
most meats (especially pork chops!)
coconut
tea
scalloped corn
unsweetened sparkling water
coffee
beer (yeah, I tried my step-dad's Old Mil when I was nine. Kept me clean 'til 19.)

But I always liked fish. Even in my vegetarian days, I wouldn't eat it, but I would think fondly of a big plate of crispy fried walleye, Shore Lunch style. When I was pregnant, I craved fish fillet sandwiches from fast food joints. And on the rare occasions that I find myself in a decent Mexican restaurant, I will happily order the fish tacos every single time.

In Bismarck, we don't have a lot of Mexican restaurant options. There's a hole-in-the-wall called Taco Palenque, down in the industrial section of south Bismarck. I really want to love it, because it's authentic, the people behind the counter actually speak Spanish, and it seems like everything is homemade. But to me, the meat is weird - grisly, tough to chew. I don't know if they make fish tacos there, but I'm going to trust my instincts on this one and make these at home instead.

Although I love these, I don't make them often because it's not a one-pot meal, and you need to take a little extra time to pull together all the components to make it great. The magic of tacos to me are the layers of flavors and textures and temperatures you can get in one bite. Warm toasty corn tortilla + cold crunchy cabbage + hot seasoned fish + tangy pickled onions + spicy salsa + creamy dressing + squeeze of lime juice = one memorable bite, and a reminder that taking the time to bring layers of flavor to a meal is so worth it.

I originally posted this recipe in 2009. I think we're due for a revisit. I made a few adjustments, though. 1) I didn't fry the fish, going for a cleaner taste this time, 2) I added quick pickled onions, inspired from this recipe. If you make these tacos, PLEASE try them with these onions on top. Just thinly slice half a red onion, cover in red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar, and let them sit for 30 mins (will keep in the fridge for a long time). They add a burst of flavor.

Walleye Tacos
The marinade is your chance to experiment. Like it a little spicy? Add jalapeno. In a hurry? Skip the list of seasonings and just use a couple teaspoons of taco seasoning. Just keep the lime juice as a base. Sauce is adapted from AllRecipes.com. Dieters can skip the batter and just grill the fish, but personally I think it's best pan-fried with a crunchy coating. Because c'mon, everything is better fried.

1 lb. walleye fillets
Kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper
Vegetable oil for frying

Marinade
1 lime, juiced
1 Tbls. olive oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon chili powder

Batter
1 cup flour
1 cup beer

Sauce
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayo
1 lime, juiced
1 jalapeno pepper, minced
1 teaspoon minced capers
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried dill weed
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

Taco fixings (Corn tortillas, salsa, shredded cabbage, chopped cilantro, chopped tomato, extra lime wedges)

In a small bowl, mix juice of one lime, cumin, chili powder, olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and a few grinds of pepper. Place fish in a shallow dish and pour lime juice mixture over it; let sit for at least 15 minutes (or refrigerate in marinade for a couple hours).

Meanwhile, mix up sauce ingredients and set aside.

Mix flour and beer in shallow dish with 1 teaspoon salt. Heat veg oil in a cast iron pan until the oil surface shimmers. Dip the marinated fish in the beer batter, then carefully place fish in hot oil. Fry until golden, a couple minutes on each side. Remove and drain on paper towels.

Assemble tacos and serve with sauce. Excelente!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Acorns

2012-11-14T21:14:00.000-06:00

These are the magic seeds that Reese's peanut butter Christmas trees are made of. Cute little chocolate peanut butter acorns, ready to decorate your Thanksgiving buffet. And I can never make these again because, although I've never experienced crack cocaine, these little candies apparently have the exact same effect as that drug on my husband.

I made about 30 of these on Sunday (recipe yields 3 dozen, but I made them a little big). As of today (Wednesday), there are two left. I did have a few myself - ok, maybe more than a few - but he attacked these sweet morsels, his handsome face aglow in the light of the open refrigerator, tiny smears of chocolate in the corners of his mouth, accompanied by a comment like "OMG THESE ARE SO AMAZING!!!" or something subtle like that.

Clearly, I'm not a crafty food decor person. Sometimes I romanticize switching careers and becoming a baker, but then I remember what a terrible cake decorator I am. But yet even a clumsy person like me managed to make these cute little candies, so yours will be Martha Stewart perfect, I'm sure of it. There is no cooking involved, other than melting the chocolate, and you probably have all the ingredients in your pantry right now. The dough is basically edible Play-Doh that you roll into an oblong, acorn-like shape, refrigerate to harden them a bit, then dip one end in melted chocolate and stick a bit of pretzel in it. Presto! A treat for the little peanut butter cup loving squirrel in all of us.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Acorns
Adapted from Martha Stewart Living magazine, November 2012. Have extra melted chocolate? Dip some of those extra pretzels in it and refrigerate along with the acorns. Salty sweet goodness.

3/4 c. creamy peanut butter
1/2 c. butter, softened
2 c. powdered sugar
6 oz. semisweet chocolate chips
About 36 branch-shaped pieces from mini pretzels

Stir together peanut butter and butter in a bowl. Add sugar and work into a smooth dough with your hands. Refrigerate 30 mins.

Using the palms of your hands, roll dough into 1 and 1/2" oblong "acorns" (you should have about 36 - it's ok if you have more or fewer), flatten 1 end of each a bit with your fingertip, and place on a waxed paper-lined rimmed baking sheet. Refrigerate 30 mins.

Melt chocolate in a bowl in the microwave, stirring every 30 secs. Working with one acorn at a time, dip flat end into chocolate, then return to baking sheet. Insert a pretzel piece into the chocolate-dipped end. Refrigerate until chocolate is set, about 2 hours. Store covered in refrigerator.

Roasted Duck with Cranberry Cabernet Sauce

2012-11-13T21:46:00.002-06:00

Winter is a tough time for this food blogger for two reasons:

1) We're tucking into more meaty meals, which for me are more difficult to photograph than, say, a colorful corn and tomato salad, and

2) We are in the depths of winter darkness in the Northern Plains right now, meaning no natural light at the dinner hour.

I'm a real person who happens to blog. I don't cook just so I can blog about it. I don't style my food. I don't really set up my shots. I don't own Photoshop. Maybe I should consider some of these things (fame and fortune would surely come as a result, right? ...right?), but this is just real life for me and my family, our cozy little home in the middle of North Dakota, a weedy garden in the back, and a deep freeze in the basement filled with curious meats that we call dinner. I'm tickled to think that anyone would be generous enough to spend a few precious moments stopping by this little blog and checking into my kitchen and our humble life. It's been five years, almost 500 posts, and the journey has been a true joy. So thank you. Really. I love that you've even read this far...

But that's a long-winded way of saying November is not prime photo-time for this blogger. Plus, we have plenty of warm yellow lights in our new home that do nothing to enhance the beauty of this pot of roasted duck. Nothing at all.

Despite my winter lighting situation, I hope you trust me when I say that this meal was, in a word, spectacular. Two mallard ducks, stuffed with chopped oranges and apples, roasted in a Dutch oven, served with a cranberry Cabernet sauce. The fruit stuffed in the ducks, especially the orange, delicately infused the meat and the layers of flavor in the sauce brought the whole dish together. The meat stays moist because, well, ducks happen to have that gorgeous layer of fatty skin protecting the meat, but just in case, we're roasting them in a covered Dutch oven to keep some of that moisture. Served with some Minnesota wild rice, that's what I call a lovely meal.

The ducks have migrated out of North Dakota by now - at least the smart ones have. I have specifically asked my hunter husband to go duck hunting more often next year. With a wide smile, he sounds happy to oblige. Not only is the meat tasty - red and slightly beefy, but not heavy like goose meat - but I can't wait to render me some duck fat. Homemade duck fat French fries, anyone?

Roasted Duck with Cranberry Cabernet Sauce
Adapted from Wild Feasts, a cookbook from Ducks Unlimited (of course)

2 medium ducks
Salt and pepper to taste
1 orange, cut into small pieces (yes, keep the peel on)
1 apple, chopped
1/4 c. dried cranberries
1/2 c. water
1 small red onion, minced
2 Tbls. butter
1/2 c. Cabernet or other dry red wine
1 c. broth (chicken, pheasant, or turkey broth, take your pick)
1/4 c. balsamic vinegar
Big pinch of dried thyme

Rinse ducks and pat them dry. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and fill cavities with orange and apple. Roast in a covered Dutch oven at 350 degrees until medium well, testing with a meat thermometer in the thigh or breast until the meat registers at 165 degrees. This will take 1-2 hours, depending on the size of the ducks.

Meanwhile, bring cranberries and water to a boil in a small saucepan. Remove from heat and let soften 10 mins. Drain cranberries, reserving liquid in one bowl, and removing softened cranberries to another bowl. Set aside.

In the saucepan, melt butter and saute the onion over medium heat until softened and just starting to caramelize. Add Cabernet, bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer 10 mins or until reduced by half. Add broth and cranberry liquid, bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer until reduced by half. Add vinegar, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste; bring to a boil, reduce heat, simmer until reduced by half. Remove from heat and set aside until duck is done.

When ready to serve the duck, add cranberries to sauce, warm the sauce, and serve with the duck.

TNT's Diner - West Fargo

2012-11-11T15:47:00.001-06:00

TNT's Diner. We made it! In an earlier post, I explained my disappointment when, the first time I tried to visit, it was closed randomly on a Saturday. But this time, we struck gold. TNT's is a treasure - hard to find, tucked behind Sandy's donuts in an industrial-looking building, but it's definitely worth the trip. It was 5:00 pm when we grabbed a booth at TNT's and opened the menu to order dinner.

5 pm isn't the coolest hour for dinner, but dinner hour is all relative. My dad unapologetically eats dinner at 5 pm. 7 pm is a good dinner hour for me. A Spaniard wouldn't think of dining any earlier than 9 pm. But there we were, some over-excited Gen Xers in town for a concert that started at 7 pm and we weren't going to miss a second of it, skipping the typical pre-concert downtown Fargo beer run and instead hanging with the silver-haired early dinner crowd for a patty melt and sour cream raisin pie.

TNT's did not disappoint. They serve breakfast all day, and I was tempted by the malted waffles, but I picked a cheeseburger, topped with a fried egg, with some waffle fries and a side of homemade veggie soup. My friend Jenny got an amazing roast beef melt sandwich with big 'ol chunks of meat, like it came straight from the crock pot. Sam tried the fish and chips, while my hubby got the Texas melt with thin-sliced meat.

The meals were great - classic diner goodness - but the shining star at TNT's is dessert. I mean, look at that sour cream raisin pie! Seriously, people. I ordered apple crisp with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream, but my favorite dessert at the table (yes, we all shared) was the bread pudding. I love bread pudding - it's totally under-appreciated in my humble opinion - and with homemade caramel all over this one, it did not disappoint.

We probably ate too much, but we needed the fuel for the big show. We were in Fargo for a Trampled by Turtles concert - don't know them? Do yourself a favor and look them up on YouTube. It's rock-bluegrass-wonderment with lots of facial hair and flannel (they're from Duluth, after all) and the kids love it. Picture a crowd of 20-somethings screaming for more fiddle and banjo. I wonder what those lovely silver-haired folks at TNT's would've thought about that.

The concert crowd, taken by the band and shared on Facebook. I'm in there, somewhere...

Ham and Cheese Soufflé

2012-11-04T16:53:00.002-06:00

My first soufflé. I wanted to make this, just to know I could. I've never discussed soufflés with my friends, but pop culture tells me tales of woe related to the dish, the cause of many tears splashing down on kitchen tile from fallen soufflés and more finicky than a toddler a couple hours past bedtime. Just the fact that it has an accent mark in the name is enough to make some turn the cookbook page and make a quiche instead.

But I'm here to tell you that there's nothing to be afraid of. I didn't do the Julia Child aluminum foil wrap thing that I've seen on other blogs. I just made sure that I did my mise en place and prepped ingredients beforehand (grating the cheese, separating the eggs) and brought the ingredients to room temperature. Much like making scones, the real trick is minimal mixing - be gentle, and do not be thorough, as you want to keep those air bubbles in the whipped egg whites. Just a few folds should do it. Pop the whole thing in a preheated oven, and voilá! Soufflé.

Soufflé is like a really light, airy, a little bit eggy spoon bread. Next time I'll use a more impressive baking dish so it puffs up over the edges like an edible version of The Swedish Chef's hat, but considering it was my first time out of the gate, I was quite satisfied with my soufflé's modest lift. It's only as good as the cheese put into it, so if you have an extra chunk of a great aged Cheddar, this is the place to use it.

While the soufflé was baking for our Sunday lunch, Ben and I had a pillow fight (he won), then took a break on the couch to watch the tiny little snowflakes fly outside the window, falling on the big evergreen trees in our new backyard. Our little winter wonderland.

Ham and Cheese Soufflé
If I could have any cookbook author by my side to make my first soufflé, I'd pick Mark Bittman over Julia Child. Julia can make a mean soufflé, but Bittman heralds simplicity over authenticity, which I appreciate. He strips recipes down to exactly what you need, and then will often give ideas on how to build it back up and make it your own. I love Julia, but Mark's my wingman on this one. Adapted from How to Cook Everything.

4 Tbls. (1/2 stick) butter, plus 1 teaspoon to grease the dish
1/4 cup flour
1 and 1/2 cup milk, warmed
6 eggs, separated and at room temperature (make sure there is no yolk in the whites, or the whites won't whip properly)
Salt and pepper, to taste
1/2 tsp. dry mustard
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup grated or crumbled Cheddar, Jack, Roquefort, Emmenthal and/or other cheese
3/4 cup cooked minced ham (optional; if you just want a cheese soufflé, leave it out)
Pinch of cream of tartar (optional)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Grease a 2-quart soufflé dish or other deep baking dish with 1 tsp. butter.

In a medium saucepan, melt remaining butter over medium heat. When it foams, add flour and turn heat down to medium-low. Cook, stirring, until mixture darkens a bit, about 3 mins. Whisk in milk slowly to avoid lumps, then cook until mixture is thick, 1-2 more mins.

Turn off heat, stir in yolks, salt (you won't need much salt if you are using ham), pepper, mustard, cheeses and ham. Beat eggs whites separately w/ a pinch of cream of tartar just until they hold soft peaks. Stir a couple spoonfuls of beaten egg whites into batter, then very gently - and not overly thoroughly - fold in remaining whites. Be as gentle as possible.

Turn batter into dish and bake until soufflé has risen and browned on top, about 30-40 mins. Use a thin skewer to check the interior; if it is still quite wet, bake another 5 mins. If it is just a bit moist, the soufflé is done. Serve immediately.