As you know from earlier posts, I have the perfect pie crust recipe. Never-fail, turns out exactly the same every time. So how could I end up with anything less than perfect pie?
I blame the low-sugar, no-white flour, mostly vegan culinary journey I'm taking this summer, trying to get my body in the best shape I can for some upcoming distance running challenges (some of the greatest American distance athletes, such as ultramarathoner Scott Jurek and pro cycling stud David Zabriskie are vegan. Ergo my foray into falafel burgers). I haven't thought about white flour for quite a while, but it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't have any in stock when the 4th of July came around--a day that always calls for apple pie. I've got my butter and crisco chilling, water and vodka all icy, and no white flour. But I do have whole grain pastry flour--it being pastry flour should make up for not being refined, right?
Wrong. I ended up with a soggy, squishy mass of dough that would barely shape into crust. In the end it tasted quite good, but what a difficult mess! The fact that it was quite healthy (aside from all that lovely butter and crisco) was my only consolation. Moral of this story: when you're baking, don't mess around with ingredients. Head out the door, get that white flour, and do it right.
To make up for my uncertainty with the pie crust, I put extra effort into the filling. That's what's lovely about pie filling--it's more like cooking (which I love) than baking (which always challenges me) in that ingredients are flexible and can always be messed with.
I did take care with the size and shape of the apple pieces for optimal texture. Since I still didn't have white flour, I used soy flour as my thickener instead, and it worked beautifully--I think I'll stick with it for this purpose. To complement the whole grain crust, I increased the proportion of brown sugar, using very little white. I tossed in a few splashes of vanilla extract, and orange juice instead of lemon, relying on a little rice vinegar to provide an acidic kick. Zesting the orange peel pumped up the citrus aspects, and then to top it all off, along with the usual cinnamon, dash of salt and splashes of tabasco, on impulse I threw in fresh-cracked black pepper. Even though sampling the filling mixture didn't give me a clear idea of the final outcome, I trusted that baking would develop and draw these ingredients into harmony--which is exactly what happened. It was apple pie, yes, but apple on steroids. You might wonder what new or ancient variety, what heirloom apples from what special farmers' market nestled between those ugly (but tasty) brown crusts? Certainly not those one-note standbys, Granny Smiths. That's the magic of orange zest and rice vinegar and vanilla and especially (I believe) cracked black pepper.
From now on, not only will I always mince jalapeno into my strawberry jam, but never forget to include the cracked black pepper in my apple pie.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Falafel Burgers
On a recent stay in Santa Barbara, I discovered the joy of falafel burgers at a place called The Habit. With a basket of sweet potato fries on the side, I was in heaven. It was one of those meals that you savor as you eat, and then again in memory.
My brother Doug teaches cooking and healthy lifestyle classes with his wife Patricia. He's always looking for a better veggie burger recipe, and when I heard an NPR interview with a chef who'd devoted a whole cookbook to the topic, I immediately thought of Doug, hopped on Amazon, and ordered a copy for his birthday. I got myself a copy as well, but let it sit on the shelf until that happy meal at The Habit. Suddenly, I was all about digging into Lukas Volger's Veggie Burgers Every Which Way.
Sure enough, there was a falafel burger recipe. I've made it twice already
in the past week, even though there are so many other enticing burgers that I ought to branch out. However, it's fun to really learn a recipe, go to school on it. The burgers were tasty the first time, but I wanted to improve my results. There are things I like better about my second try, but others that I preferred about my first. I'm definitely giving this recipe a few more rounds along with sampling other burgers from the book. It's not like the recipes are so complicated, but having my best version of something makes me happy.
What made the second try a little more complicated was my inattention at the start--I soaked double the amount of chickpeas, then decided to simply double the whole recipe rather than waste the rehydrated peas. My food processor isn't big enough to handle so much volume, and working in stages got in the way of attaining an ideal texture. However, the ingredients were better. This time, I had cumin seeds--last time I'd settled for ground cumin. The recipe calls for thickening (only if necessary) with a little chickpea flour; so far I haven't located any. The first go round I used whole wheat, this time it was soy flour, just to be different. Next I'll try it without the flour--the mixture seems so loose and wet when forming the patties, but baking dries it out quite a bit, and it should still hold together, not crumble, even without the help of an extra binding agent.
I also tossed in a fat handful each of chia and flax seeds in honor of ultramarathoner (and vegan foodie) Scott Jurek, whose Eat & Run not only offers great nutrition advice but concludes each chapter with an enticing recipe.
Next time I'll be patient and grind the flax seeds first--their crunch was a little too assertive, and the body can't absorb as many nutrients from whole seeds. They aren't all all necessary to the recipe, but it's always good to find ways to incorporate flax into one's diet, particularly for runners (and women--especially peri- or post-menopausal).
Today I stacked the burger with some tzatziki-inspired cucumbers, fresh tomatoes, and lightly wilted purple kale.
I thinly sliced the cucumbers and onions, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, dried mint, and lemon juice, and mashed them into plain Greek yogurt.
Even though handling so much falafel mixture was a pain, I'm not sorry to have 11 more burgers stashed in the freezer. My experience with the first batch is that the flavor develops even more over the next 24 hours, and the patties heat up beautifully in the microwave without affecting texture.
Lukas Volger shares many of his recipes on his website: www.lukasvolger.com, although this one isn't there. It's best to just buy his wonderful cookbook, but if you want to try the burger, another blogger did post the recipe, along with her tips: www.madriverkitchen.com/2011/04/baked-falafel-burger-with-tzatziki.html
I'll add to the post as I work on the recipe, but it's all about tweaking my rendition of it, not the recipe itself, which is simply wonderful and easy to produce (so long as you don't double the chickpeas and decide to go ahead and run with it).
My brother Doug teaches cooking and healthy lifestyle classes with his wife Patricia. He's always looking for a better veggie burger recipe, and when I heard an NPR interview with a chef who'd devoted a whole cookbook to the topic, I immediately thought of Doug, hopped on Amazon, and ordered a copy for his birthday. I got myself a copy as well, but let it sit on the shelf until that happy meal at The Habit. Suddenly, I was all about digging into Lukas Volger's Veggie Burgers Every Which Way.
Sure enough, there was a falafel burger recipe. I've made it twice already
in the past week, even though there are so many other enticing burgers that I ought to branch out. However, it's fun to really learn a recipe, go to school on it. The burgers were tasty the first time, but I wanted to improve my results. There are things I like better about my second try, but others that I preferred about my first. I'm definitely giving this recipe a few more rounds along with sampling other burgers from the book. It's not like the recipes are so complicated, but having my best version of something makes me happy.What made the second try a little more complicated was my inattention at the start--I soaked double the amount of chickpeas, then decided to simply double the whole recipe rather than waste the rehydrated peas. My food processor isn't big enough to handle so much volume, and working in stages got in the way of attaining an ideal texture. However, the ingredients were better. This time, I had cumin seeds--last time I'd settled for ground cumin. The recipe calls for thickening (only if necessary) with a little chickpea flour; so far I haven't located any. The first go round I used whole wheat, this time it was soy flour, just to be different. Next I'll try it without the flour--the mixture seems so loose and wet when forming the patties, but baking dries it out quite a bit, and it should still hold together, not crumble, even without the help of an extra binding agent.
I also tossed in a fat handful each of chia and flax seeds in honor of ultramarathoner (and vegan foodie) Scott Jurek, whose Eat & Run not only offers great nutrition advice but concludes each chapter with an enticing recipe. Next time I'll be patient and grind the flax seeds first--their crunch was a little too assertive, and the body can't absorb as many nutrients from whole seeds. They aren't all all necessary to the recipe, but it's always good to find ways to incorporate flax into one's diet, particularly for runners (and women--especially peri- or post-menopausal).
Today I stacked the burger with some tzatziki-inspired cucumbers, fresh tomatoes, and lightly wilted purple kale.
I thinly sliced the cucumbers and onions, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, dried mint, and lemon juice, and mashed them into plain Greek yogurt. Even though handling so much falafel mixture was a pain, I'm not sorry to have 11 more burgers stashed in the freezer. My experience with the first batch is that the flavor develops even more over the next 24 hours, and the patties heat up beautifully in the microwave without affecting texture.
Lukas Volger shares many of his recipes on his website: www.lukasvolger.com, although this one isn't there. It's best to just buy his wonderful cookbook, but if you want to try the burger, another blogger did post the recipe, along with her tips: www.madriverkitchen.com/2011/04/baked-falafel-burger-with-tzatziki.html
I'll add to the post as I work on the recipe, but it's all about tweaking my rendition of it, not the recipe itself, which is simply wonderful and easy to produce (so long as you don't double the chickpeas and decide to go ahead and run with it).
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Too much of a good thing can be great
Buckwheat and Blueberries and Bananas and Walnuts Oh My! It's a rare event, but for some reason or other I missed breakfast. Lunch hit the spot but by the evening I was a hungry hungry gal. And I still hadn't had breakfast, my favorite meal of the day.
Time for pancakes. I love oatmeal pancakes, but when I'm this hungry, it's all about the buckwheat. Bob's Red Mill mix. They don't make the prettiest cakes--not like the beautiful fluffy circles you see at Denny's or IHOP. Also, by the time I'm done adding all my extras, they're downright lumpy and misshapen--and yummy and healthy and oh, so satisfying. No bacon or sausage on the side necessary.
Most people keep their buckwheat pancakes simple, no add-ins, just a little butter and syrup on top. When you consider how much buckwheat offers all on its own, this is understandable. Buckwheat isn't wheat (it's actually related to rhubard and is gluten-free). It has fewer calories than wheat but more protein and fiber, and is chock full of vitamins and minerals. For most, its rich flavor calls for a straightforward treatment. That way, there's still room on the palate for the traditional sides--a couple of strips of bacon, a little fresh fruit.
I can't leave well enough alone. Any pancake is better with blueberries, or banana, or chopped nuts. And when it's just me eating, I throw it all in. Too much? (nah!) of a good thing is just right.
I always have a stash of these ingredients in the freezer. When fresh bananas are perfect for eating, they're too firm and not sweet enough for cooking. If one manages to stay in the fruit bowl long enough to pass the point of ripeness, I pop it in the freezer; thawed, it becomes fragrant banana puree with barely the touch of a fork. With the buckwheat batter, I probably should stick to half a banana, especially when it's not the only extra. My pancakes would spread out more uniformly on the griddle. But there sits the rest of that banana, begging to be included, and anyway the theme of this recipe is Too Much, so why not?
Because of their fat content, walnuts seem to keep better in the freezer. I love them in everything (cf. my fridgeluck pasta entry from last September) so I make sure never to run low.
A generous handful goes in with the banana puree. I don't add the blueberries until right before cooking, otherwise they freeze to one another and pile up when spooned on the griddle. I add them right out of the freezer--if they thaw at all they water down the batter. Some people sprinkle the blueberries onto the batter after it's on the griddle--you get prettier, more uniform shapes, but the berries can burn when the pancakes are flipped since they have no batter to insulate them from the hot surface.
Even though these pancakes, made with extra-flavorful buckwheat flour and crammed with too many add-ins, are already oh-so-flavorful, I'm not done. Maybe it's the German in me, but rather than maple syrup and butter, I've always preferred sour cream and jam on my pancakes. Kind of blintz-ish. It's been a long time since I've kept sour cream in the fridge, however, because what I love even more these days is Fage Greek yogurt. Even the nonfat version is naturally thick and creamy. The flavor is smooth and just the right amount of sour. Add a touch of honey, and it's just the right amount of--well, not sweet, but fragrant and fresh.
Another nice thing about all that yogurt is that it transforms bumpy lumpy pancakes into something a little more artistically appealing. Spoon a little apricot jam on top, and you have yourself quite a Continental supper.
The leftover pancakes keep very well in the fridge, separated by a little wax paper. Pop one or two in the toaster and you have a breakfast that will keep you all morning, or power you through a hilly 10K.
Buckwheat Blueberry Banana Walnut Pancakes--ugly, yummy, low-fat, high fiber, high protein, super-nutritious, super-easy, and downright decadent--too much of a good thing is exactly the right amount of everything.
Time for pancakes. I love oatmeal pancakes, but when I'm this hungry, it's all about the buckwheat. Bob's Red Mill mix. They don't make the prettiest cakes--not like the beautiful fluffy circles you see at Denny's or IHOP. Also, by the time I'm done adding all my extras, they're downright lumpy and misshapen--and yummy and healthy and oh, so satisfying. No bacon or sausage on the side necessary.
Most people keep their buckwheat pancakes simple, no add-ins, just a little butter and syrup on top. When you consider how much buckwheat offers all on its own, this is understandable. Buckwheat isn't wheat (it's actually related to rhubard and is gluten-free). It has fewer calories than wheat but more protein and fiber, and is chock full of vitamins and minerals. For most, its rich flavor calls for a straightforward treatment. That way, there's still room on the palate for the traditional sides--a couple of strips of bacon, a little fresh fruit.
I can't leave well enough alone. Any pancake is better with blueberries, or banana, or chopped nuts. And when it's just me eating, I throw it all in. Too much? (nah!) of a good thing is just right.
I always have a stash of these ingredients in the freezer. When fresh bananas are perfect for eating, they're too firm and not sweet enough for cooking. If one manages to stay in the fruit bowl long enough to pass the point of ripeness, I pop it in the freezer; thawed, it becomes fragrant banana puree with barely the touch of a fork. With the buckwheat batter, I probably should stick to half a banana, especially when it's not the only extra. My pancakes would spread out more uniformly on the griddle. But there sits the rest of that banana, begging to be included, and anyway the theme of this recipe is Too Much, so why not?
Because of their fat content, walnuts seem to keep better in the freezer. I love them in everything (cf. my fridgeluck pasta entry from last September) so I make sure never to run low.
A generous handful goes in with the banana puree. I don't add the blueberries until right before cooking, otherwise they freeze to one another and pile up when spooned on the griddle. I add them right out of the freezer--if they thaw at all they water down the batter. Some people sprinkle the blueberries onto the batter after it's on the griddle--you get prettier, more uniform shapes, but the berries can burn when the pancakes are flipped since they have no batter to insulate them from the hot surface.Even though these pancakes, made with extra-flavorful buckwheat flour and crammed with too many add-ins, are already oh-so-flavorful, I'm not done. Maybe it's the German in me, but rather than maple syrup and butter, I've always preferred sour cream and jam on my pancakes. Kind of blintz-ish. It's been a long time since I've kept sour cream in the fridge, however, because what I love even more these days is Fage Greek yogurt. Even the nonfat version is naturally thick and creamy. The flavor is smooth and just the right amount of sour. Add a touch of honey, and it's just the right amount of--well, not sweet, but fragrant and fresh.
Another nice thing about all that yogurt is that it transforms bumpy lumpy pancakes into something a little more artistically appealing. Spoon a little apricot jam on top, and you have yourself quite a Continental supper.
The leftover pancakes keep very well in the fridge, separated by a little wax paper. Pop one or two in the toaster and you have a breakfast that will keep you all morning, or power you through a hilly 10K.
Buckwheat Blueberry Banana Walnut Pancakes--ugly, yummy, low-fat, high fiber, high protein, super-nutritious, super-easy, and downright decadent--too much of a good thing is exactly the right amount of everything.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Eat real food
I understand the allure of meaty, hearty meals. It's just that you don't need a butcher to get you there. That's why god gave us beans and herbs and all sorts of other lovely ingredients. The other day my friend Maryanne reminded me of Michael Pollan's most basic rule: Eat real food. Mostly plants.
We were at our favorite produce stand, browsing among the lettuces. I had a crockpot of cranberry beans simmering at home (they are very similar to pintos, just a little larger and sweeter, and cook a bit faster) and, as I surveyed all the options for turning them into a delicious meal, I wondered why anyone would be offended by Pollan's love of actual, authentic food. You'd be amazed at the names he gets called: Food Nazi is one of the kinder ones.
I came home with not only the Fairytale Pumpkin whose story has yet to turn magical (see earlier post), but also a box of good ol' fashioned local produce that is finding its way into my delicious
Kitchen Herbs
I don't even have time for a PG-rated garden of my own right now. Fortunately, I live where it's easy to find lots of fresh produce at farmer's markets and stands. With real estate in a slump, investors are holding on to open land and farming is a good way to catch some extra tax breaks while doing so. I make strawberry jam from berries grown and sold a mile from here on a couple of acres tucked in between housing developments.
The one thing that truly needs to come "fresh off the vine" is fresh herbs. Because they don't keep well they're expensive at the market, so growing your own isn't just a culinary advantage, it makes economic sense as well. Fortunately, this takes no extra time or effort on your part. I've devoted a corner of a planter right next to my front door to rosemary and several varieties of thyme and sage, and oregano grows among the flagstones next to the stoop. These herbs need so little attention--non-culinary versions of them all show up throughout my low-water landscaping (and even those are edible, just a little sturdier). The hose is right next to the kitchen herbs so it's easy to spritz them regularly but if I get busy and miss even a week or two they hang right in there.
Most importantly, when I'm cooking all I have to do is pop out the door with a pair of scissors and snip all the freshness required to make a dish memorable.
Monday, March 26, 2012
What's Cooking?
I found this Fairytale Pumpkin squash at the vegetable stand today. You can see how it got its name, from that shape found in so many illustrations of Cinderella. I sliced it up and discovered a rich deep orange flesh inside--this photo just can't do the color justice.
Now the chunks are roasting at 375 in the oven. I really have no idea what I'm going to do with them so we'll just have to see! It's fun to try something out.
More later, as this plays out. Anyone with ideas, please post!
Next day: Well, so far no fairytale ending for the Fairytale Pumpkin. I followed roasting instructions I found on the internet and ended up with tough chunks of pumpkin. I should have known better. I will probably dice some of it up and throw into the stew I'm making this afternoon.
The name Fairytale Pumpkin is too alluring to give up on, so I'm picking up another one and will try again using a roasting pan covered with foil to retain moisture.
It's fun to write about cooking successes, but the fact is that a lot of cooking is try, try again.
A couple of days later: Well, it wasn't a loss after all. I was in a hurry the other day so made a quick lunch by heating up a big chunk of the cooked pumpkin, finishing off with a dab of butter and salt. The squash flavor had intensified by sitting in the fridge, and the flesh had rehydrated a bit. It was tasty and took me through the whole afternoon. I know something that deep orange and fiber-rich has to be super-healthy as well. I ate pumpkin for lunch again today. Even though it had been sitting in the fridge for 5 days, it was just as tasty. I can see this as an easy way to make lunches for school.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sometimes it's worth it to think outside the box
I've made a lot of yummy cakes from mixes. Duncan Hines Lemon Supreme for example, finished with a can of Betty Crocker cream cheese frosting. Pretty damn good. And I've messed around with this cake recipe and that, because the write-up in the LA Times food section makes them sound so good. Last winter my friend Maryanne and I tag-teamed on a couple of sponge-cake recipes, trying to figure out which one worked best. But really, again, why do the work when someone else has done it for you? Someone like the great food scientist Shirley Corriher.
I've been hooked on Shirley since I first heard her interviewed on NPR's Fresh Air. My mom bought me her cookbook/textbook Cookwise, which teaches not only how to cook, but why. It's a fantastic tome. Then, my fried Gail started experimenting with her quickbread recipe, and said she sure wished she knew more about adjusting proportions as she changed her ingredients around. Well, bless Shirley's heart, she had just put out another cookbook all about that very topic: Bakewise. There was Gail's Christmas present (and of course one for me too).
Because she explains not only how to do something, but why, Shirley Corriher's recipes turn out yummy and reliable. She admits she has a powerful sweet tooth, and cakes are obviously nearest and dearest to her heart. There is no cake mix on earth that can come close to her Satin-Glazed Midnight Black Chocolate Cake. As much as I love chocolate, however, I have to award the blue ribbon to her Magnificent Moist Golden Cake. I baked it yesterday, and went to bed with the sweet perfume of vanilla and cream still hovering in the air.
Nonstick cooking spray with flour
4 Tbl unsalted butter, cut in 1-Tbl pieces
1 ½ cups sugar
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup canola oil
3 large egg yolks
2 large eggs
1 ¾ cups spooned and leveled cake flour (NO SUBSTITUTE!)
1 ¾ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1/3 cup buttermilk
½ cup heavy cream
1. Arrange a shelf in the lower third of the oven, place a baking stone on it, and preheat the oven to 350.
2. Spray a 9 x 2-inch round cake pan with nonstick cooking spray with flour and line with a parchment circle, then lightly spray the top of the parchment, too.
3. In a mix on medium speed, beat the butter to soften. Beat until it is light in color, about 3 minutes. Add the sugar and continue to beat (cream) until very light, scraping down the sides and across the bottom of the bowl at least once. While creaming, feel the bowl; if it does not feel cool, place in the freezer for 5 minutes, then continue creaming.
4. Beat in the vanilla. On medium speed, blend in the oil.
5. On the lowest speed, blend in the yolks, one at a time, mixing just to blend. Blend in the whole eggs, one at a time, mixing just to blend.
6. In a medium mixing bowl, beat the flour, baking powder, and salt for a full 30 seconds at medium speed with a hand mixer or with a fork or whisk by hand.
7. On the lowest speed, blend over half of the flour mixture into the batter. Continue on lowest speed and blend in half of the buttermilk. Continue adding the remainder of the flour until all is incorporated. Blend in the remaining buttermilk.
8. In a cold bowl with cold beaters, whip the cream until soft peaks form when the beater is lifted. Beat just a little beyond this soft-peak stage. Stir about one-quarter of the whipped cream into the batter to lighten. Then fold the rest of the whipped cream into the batter.
9. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Drop the pan onto the counter from a height of about 4 inches to knock out bubbles. Place the cake in the oven on the stone and bake until the center springs back when touched, or a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean but moist, about 40 minutes. Ideally, the cake should not pull away from the sides until it has just come out of the oven. the center temperature should be about 209 degrees if you check by inserting an instant-read thermometer.
10. Place the cake in the pan on a rack to cool for about 10 minutes, then shake the pan to loosen the cake all around. spray a cooling rack with nonstick cooking spray and invert the cake onto the rack to finish cooling. Peel off the parchment. Cool completely before slicing into layers, storing, or icing.
Today, I sliced the cake into two layers and filled the middle with some homemade strawberry jam thinned with a little Grand Marnier and a nice helping of mocha frosting, made with Shirley's Basic Confectioners' Sugar Buttercream recipe. The outside is a thick layer of more of that frosting with walnuts pressed into the sides. Tom's about as Guy's Guy as a guy can get, so I didn't want to make it too frou-frou, but at the same time it's so much fun to play around with frosting tips, so I got a little flourish-y with the dark purple embellishments. I don't think he'll mind!
If you want the frosting recipe, or more details on the whys and wherefores of the cake recipe, or just want to spend some time learning really cool stuff about the science of baking, or just get your hands on a whole passel o' kick-ass recipes, you must check out Shirley's book (actually, check out both of them!); you can also catch her quite often on Alton Brown's Good Eats cooking show on the Food Network. Shirley teaches a lesson with each recipe in her book, and although I didn't take the time to include them here, she gives each amount in ounces and grams, which I often use to make sure I have the proportions perfect. They came in especially handy this time, since I used some of Gail's duck eggs to make the cake. They're larger than chicken eggs, and knowing exactly how much the yolks and whole eggs should weigh made it possible to use just the right amount. Bakers swear by duck eggs--the yolks are heavy and rich and assertive. All I know is that the cake turned out perfect.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Celebrate the Butternut
There's a great new restaurant in town, Wild Rocket. I've had some really yummy bites there, and highly recommend it (corner of Eureka and Pearl--you gotta try it).
Imagine my disappointment yesterday then, upon ordering a bowl of butternut squash soup and finding it completely unremarkable. The goat cheese-stuffed dates, pear arugula salad, and berry crumble were simply delightful. How could someone who knew how to create such flavors be content with such a bland bowl of soup? The waitress said it's really meant as a base for lobster (which I don't eat) but I still ask myself, why not celebrate the butternut???
I had the urge to slip him my recipe. I can't take credit for it (the LA Times can) but after having made it a zillion times I can vouch for its utter deliciousness. When my friend Lari had jaw surgery and was limited to what she could sip through a straw, a pot of this manna helped her survive.
This recipe taught me the magic of jalapeno. My first try, I forgot to buy it; the soup was still good enough to make again, and the second time it had the jalapeno, and wow, although I couldn't taste it, suddenly all the other flavors just danced in my mouth. Since then I've been adding it to all sorts of stews, pot roast, and more.
************
¼ cup butter
2 leeks, cleaned and chopped
3 stalks celery, coarsely chopped
2 large carrots, peeled, chopped
1 1” piece fresh ginger, peeled & grated
1 fresh jalapeno, seeded & chopped
1 tsp dried thyme
Sea salt to taste
2 lbs butternut squash, cubed
4 cups stock or water
½ cup cream (I use half and half, the original recipe calls for heavy cream)
Freshly ground white pepper
Melt butter over medium heat. Add leeks, celery, carrots, ginger, jalapeno, thyme, and salt. Cook, stirring sometimes, until veggies are wilted, about 10-15 mins.
Stir in squash and stock, bring to a boil, reduce heat to med/low, cover and simmer 20-30 minutes until vegetables are falling-apart soft.
Puree with immersion blender (or in a blender or food processor).
Stir in cream.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve at once; or reheat gently if needed.
************
I think maybe I was disappointed in Wild Rocket's version because I know what butternut can be. If the chef got a hold of this recipe the soup, while still working beautifully as a base for lobster, would be a star of the menu, all by itself.
Imagine my disappointment yesterday then, upon ordering a bowl of butternut squash soup and finding it completely unremarkable. The goat cheese-stuffed dates, pear arugula salad, and berry crumble were simply delightful. How could someone who knew how to create such flavors be content with such a bland bowl of soup? The waitress said it's really meant as a base for lobster (which I don't eat) but I still ask myself, why not celebrate the butternut???
I had the urge to slip him my recipe. I can't take credit for it (the LA Times can) but after having made it a zillion times I can vouch for its utter deliciousness. When my friend Lari had jaw surgery and was limited to what she could sip through a straw, a pot of this manna helped her survive.
This recipe taught me the magic of jalapeno. My first try, I forgot to buy it; the soup was still good enough to make again, and the second time it had the jalapeno, and wow, although I couldn't taste it, suddenly all the other flavors just danced in my mouth. Since then I've been adding it to all sorts of stews, pot roast, and more.
************
¼ cup butter
2 leeks, cleaned and chopped
3 stalks celery, coarsely chopped
2 large carrots, peeled, chopped
1 1” piece fresh ginger, peeled & grated
1 fresh jalapeno, seeded & chopped
1 tsp dried thyme
Sea salt to taste
2 lbs butternut squash, cubed
4 cups stock or water
½ cup cream (I use half and half, the original recipe calls for heavy cream)
Freshly ground white pepper
Stir in squash and stock, bring to a boil, reduce heat to med/low, cover and simmer 20-30 minutes until vegetables are falling-apart soft.
Puree with immersion blender (or in a blender or food processor).
Stir in cream.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve at once; or reheat gently if needed.
************
I think maybe I was disappointed in Wild Rocket's version because I know what butternut can be. If the chef got a hold of this recipe the soup, while still working beautifully as a base for lobster, would be a star of the menu, all by itself.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
It's rich. It's easy. It's healthy. It's intensely good. You just didn't know until now that something this yummy existed
I heard John Mariani, an expert on Italian-American food, interviewed by Terry Gross on NPR a while back. He was chock-full of all sorts of interesting information on the history of Italian cuisine in America. I learned why, until recently, our notion of Italian food involves a lot of pizza and heavy pasta and meatballs (most Italian immigrants were poor folks from Naples).
In the middle of all this great food history, Mariani suddenly dropped the simplest recipe. He said this was the marinara sauce he grew up on, still his favorite. I didn't even have to go digging on the internet to make sure I had all the ingredients and proportions right. Here's why:
Chop 3-4 cloves of garlic. Brown in a heavy saute pan for 3-4 minutes. Remove garlic bits, add 1 can peeled Italian tomatoes. Cook on low 20-30 minutes, smashing tomatoes as they cook. Add salt/pepper to taste, and basil.
That's it. It tastes so rich and the tomato flavor just sings. With all the sugar and other ingredients meant to pump up the flavor in every jar of pasta sauce on the grocery store shelves, mass-produced marinara just can't hold a candle to this simple concoction, which, by the way, is less expensive as well, even if you use the pricier San Marzano tomatoes he recommends. They are worth it, but the first time I made this sauce all I had on hand was Stater Bros store brand tomatoes, and it still knocked my socks off. I also made it with a can of Trader Joe's peeled tomatoes with basil, and it was intensely yummy.
Tonight I added a couple of ingredients, although I didn't want to mess too much with perfection. Instead of removing the browned garlic bits from the pan, I sauteed chopped onion and mushroom before adding the tomato and sprinkling in dried oregano, finishing again with basil. Sooo simple, why am I even blogging about it?
Because it's seductively, intensely good.
In the middle of all this great food history, Mariani suddenly dropped the simplest recipe. He said this was the marinara sauce he grew up on, still his favorite. I didn't even have to go digging on the internet to make sure I had all the ingredients and proportions right. Here's why:
Chop 3-4 cloves of garlic. Brown in a heavy saute pan for 3-4 minutes. Remove garlic bits, add 1 can peeled Italian tomatoes. Cook on low 20-30 minutes, smashing tomatoes as they cook. Add salt/pepper to taste, and basil.
That's it. It tastes so rich and the tomato flavor just sings. With all the sugar and other ingredients meant to pump up the flavor in every jar of pasta sauce on the grocery store shelves, mass-produced marinara just can't hold a candle to this simple concoction, which, by the way, is less expensive as well, even if you use the pricier San Marzano tomatoes he recommends. They are worth it, but the first time I made this sauce all I had on hand was Stater Bros store brand tomatoes, and it still knocked my socks off. I also made it with a can of Trader Joe's peeled tomatoes with basil, and it was intensely yummy.
Tonight I added a couple of ingredients, although I didn't want to mess too much with perfection. Instead of removing the browned garlic bits from the pan, I sauteed chopped onion and mushroom before adding the tomato and sprinkling in dried oregano, finishing again with basil. Sooo simple, why am I even blogging about it?
Because it's seductively, intensely good.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Easy as pie Berry Pie
So now that I have this pie crust thing down cold (and I really do. Exact same results every single time!) I've been playing with fillings. As you can see from the previous post, the apple thing is good to go. However, I also love berry pie, which is a lot more challenging. It's either too tart or too sweet. Too runny or too gelatinous. And so on. This weekend I set myself to work on the problem.
It seems to me that the biggest problem with berry pie is that it's too much of a good thing. All that flavor comes with a lot of tartness; all that juice requires too much thickener. A lot of fruit juices are mixed into a foundation of apple juice, which supports the main flavor without diluting it too much. So I chopped up a bunch of apples into blueberry-sized chunks, threw them into a saucepan with lemon juice, and started them cooking. I mixed together flour, cornstarch, white and brown sugar, a dash of salt, and spices--cinnamon and nutmeg--and stirred that into the cooking apples. It started to get too thick to cook the fruit properly, so I added some frozen berries to increase the liquid content. I didn't want to add them all since they'd cook down and lose their shape, and I wanted to preserve as much berry texture as possible. Once the apples were nicely soft, I removed them from the heat, let them cool just a bit, stirred in the rest of the frozen berries (1/2 bag blueberries and 1/2 bag mixed berries--blueberry/raspberry/strawberry/blackberry), and set the filling aside.
I rolled out the crust and assembled the pie, dotting the filling with butter before adding the top crust. Since the berries are so juicy I crimped the crust as carefully as possible to keep juice from leaking out the edges (I should have still put a pan or sheet of foil beneath the pie in the oven since it found a crack to flow through). After slashing a starburst pattern in the top I pulled out my cookie cutters and with the leftover bits of crust dough I made a dragonfly and applied it with a little milk to the center of the starburst. Since I still had a lot of dough I cut out some strawberries, dusted them with milk and sugar and scattered them around the top. I decided they looked dorky but left them there.
I baked the pie until golden. It took a loooong time to cool. Finally we got hungry and went ahead and sliced into it--yum yum yum. It was still a bit runny but the strawberry decorations helped soak up the juice.
The next morning, the pie was oh so perfect. The filling had properly set, and offered everything you'd want in a berry pie--lots of rich flavor, not too sweet or tart. Nice texture, stable and silky but not at all gooey. The berries held up well enough to be recognizable, and the apple chunks had soaked up so much purple juice they blended right in. I'd never had berry pie quite that satisfying.
I'd love to give an exact recipe here, but I can't swear to all the proportions. I'll have to repeat the recipe a couple of times to give reliable amounts.
What I do know is the secret to great berry pie. It's apples.
It seems to me that the biggest problem with berry pie is that it's too much of a good thing. All that flavor comes with a lot of tartness; all that juice requires too much thickener. A lot of fruit juices are mixed into a foundation of apple juice, which supports the main flavor without diluting it too much. So I chopped up a bunch of apples into blueberry-sized chunks, threw them into a saucepan with lemon juice, and started them cooking. I mixed together flour, cornstarch, white and brown sugar, a dash of salt, and spices--cinnamon and nutmeg--and stirred that into the cooking apples. It started to get too thick to cook the fruit properly, so I added some frozen berries to increase the liquid content. I didn't want to add them all since they'd cook down and lose their shape, and I wanted to preserve as much berry texture as possible. Once the apples were nicely soft, I removed them from the heat, let them cool just a bit, stirred in the rest of the frozen berries (1/2 bag blueberries and 1/2 bag mixed berries--blueberry/raspberry/strawberry/blackberry), and set the filling aside.
I rolled out the crust and assembled the pie, dotting the filling with butter before adding the top crust. Since the berries are so juicy I crimped the crust as carefully as possible to keep juice from leaking out the edges (I should have still put a pan or sheet of foil beneath the pie in the oven since it found a crack to flow through). After slashing a starburst pattern in the top I pulled out my cookie cutters and with the leftover bits of crust dough I made a dragonfly and applied it with a little milk to the center of the starburst. Since I still had a lot of dough I cut out some strawberries, dusted them with milk and sugar and scattered them around the top. I decided they looked dorky but left them there.
I baked the pie until golden. It took a loooong time to cool. Finally we got hungry and went ahead and sliced into it--yum yum yum. It was still a bit runny but the strawberry decorations helped soak up the juice.
The next morning, the pie was oh so perfect. The filling had properly set, and offered everything you'd want in a berry pie--lots of rich flavor, not too sweet or tart. Nice texture, stable and silky but not at all gooey. The berries held up well enough to be recognizable, and the apple chunks had soaked up so much purple juice they blended right in. I'd never had berry pie quite that satisfying.
I'd love to give an exact recipe here, but I can't swear to all the proportions. I'll have to repeat the recipe a couple of times to give reliable amounts.
What I do know is the secret to great berry pie. It's apples.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Now, it really is easy as pie
When I'm out working in my yard I hook my iPod to some little computer speakers and catch up on my Fresh Air podcasts. So there I am, mucking around in the dirt laying cement slab chunks to create a little patio transition from the cement stoop, when Terry Gross starts interviewing a couple of chefs from America's Test Kitchen/Cook's Illustrated. It doesn't get any better than this--an afternoon of dirt and food.
Among the various gems of culinary information these two chefs imparted, came the Answer to My Greatest Baking Deficiency: pie. Actually, pie crust. That phrase "easy as pie" has always annoyed me a bit because in Carmen World pie ain't all that easy. I'm fairly good with the filling part (sometimes my fruit pies are a little watery) but crust is nothing but a chore and most of the time either it isn't tender and flaky enough, or doesn't turn out very visually appealing, which in my mind defeats an important purpose of food--to delight the eye as well as the palate.
Apparently I'm not the only person not up to that challenge. The chefs said pie crust is notoriously inconsistent, so they set out to find the secret to a beautiful flaky crust that could be consistently produced each time. And they claimed success. So what was the big secret?
Vodka, my friend.
And while a quick hit of icy cold Ketel 1 (along with a bite of bakery bread slathered in sweet butter--the Russians know how to do it right) can improve any baking experience, it's what goes into the pastry dough, not down your throat, that makes it so so great.
Vodka, really?
The problem with pastry dough is that as the water mixes into the flour it develops gluten. Undermix your dough, and it's inconsistent, too dry here, too sticky there, impossible to roll out properly. Overmix, and you have tough (glutenous) crust. Alcohol does not develop the gluten, and vodka adds no flavor so it's perfect for the job. The basic rule is replace half the water with vodka. However, I wanted what these culinary geniuses (just ask any Cook's Illustrated subscriber) thought was the perfect recipe, so when I was all done with my little yard project I went online and dug up their recipe (Cook's Illustrated doesn't hand most stuff out for free, but I'm good with the Google).
I made an apple-blueberry pie. Took it to friends' the next day and tucked it in among the others on the dessert table. Pretty soon the accolades started coming--and here's the thing: my filling was only good, definitely not great. I'd been so focused on the crust that the apples were too chunky and the whole thing a bit soupy, but the crust was so good it just didn't matter as much. I was amazed at what a difference a great crust can make! I had a slice of another pie, and made sure to dissect the filling because it was superb--that filling, my crust: truly the perfect pie.
Made another pie. Again, perfect crust (and got the filling right). Made another one. Exact same results.
I am now the Pie Queen.
Unlike Cook's Illustrated, I won't make you subscribe or resort to Google subterfuge for the recipe. Here it is, in all its turn-out-the-same-every-dang-time glory:
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup cold vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold vodka
1/4 cup cold water
Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogeneous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour). Scrape bowl with rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.
Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together [I dumped the dough back into the food processor and pulsed a few times to get it really consistent. I actually had tried just sprinkling the water/vodka through the feeder tube while pulsing, but the liquid didn't distribute as well as I wanted. It isn't much hassle to dump the mixture into a bowl, then back into the processor, and the dough comes out perfect]. Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disk. Wrap each in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days.
So that's the Great Vodka Crust Recipe. Here's how I turned it into Great Apple Blueberry Pie:
While pie crust dough is chilling in the fridge, mix together and set aside:
about 3/4 cup sugar (I like to mix 1/2 cup white, 1/4 cup brown together)
about 2 Tbl flour
a pinch of salt
about 3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
Notice that the amounts are all approximate. Go with your preference and the tartness of the apples.
Core and peel 5 apples (I prefer Macintosh). Slice each apple into quarters, then slice the quarters crosswise into pieces about 1/6" thick (picky, huh? but 1/4" is too thick, 1/8" too thin and will make apple mush. It doesn't matter if some pieces are a little thinner or thicker--what you're looking for is that 1/6" average, which will deliver the perfect filling texture and consistency). Toss with a squeeze or two of fresh lemon (preferably a Meyer lemon), a few dashes of Tabasco, and most of the sugar mixture--reserve a couple of tablespoons to toss separately into a cup of fresh blueberries, so they don't crush and mush into the apples.
Roll out one of the dough disks (use lots of flour) and place into a nice deep pie dish. Pour in the apple filling and press down a bit, then sprinkle the blueberries on top.
Roll out the other disk of dough (see how easy it was to make a perfect round?) and place over the top. Fold and crimp to your heart's delight, have fun arranging little pastry cutouts around the rim or on top (I made a pie in an oval baking dish and lined the rim with pastry apple leaves. It was so pretty!) and cut a few slits in the crust. Brush the top with a little milk or cream and sprinkle sugar on it (I use either raw sugar for texture, or superfine baker's sugar for a glistening surface).
Bake according to your oven's capabilities. I have a convection oven, so I start it at 415, then turn down to about 350. It takes probably about 45 minutes, but I'm not sure because I haven't kept track. I just keep an eye on it. When the crust is nicely golden it is done and ready to delight your eyes, your mouth, and your tummy.
What's Russian for Bon Appetit?
Among the various gems of culinary information these two chefs imparted, came the Answer to My Greatest Baking Deficiency: pie. Actually, pie crust. That phrase "easy as pie" has always annoyed me a bit because in Carmen World pie ain't all that easy. I'm fairly good with the filling part (sometimes my fruit pies are a little watery) but crust is nothing but a chore and most of the time either it isn't tender and flaky enough, or doesn't turn out very visually appealing, which in my mind defeats an important purpose of food--to delight the eye as well as the palate.
Apparently I'm not the only person not up to that challenge. The chefs said pie crust is notoriously inconsistent, so they set out to find the secret to a beautiful flaky crust that could be consistently produced each time. And they claimed success. So what was the big secret?
Vodka, my friend.
And while a quick hit of icy cold Ketel 1 (along with a bite of bakery bread slathered in sweet butter--the Russians know how to do it right) can improve any baking experience, it's what goes into the pastry dough, not down your throat, that makes it so so great.
Vodka, really?
The problem with pastry dough is that as the water mixes into the flour it develops gluten. Undermix your dough, and it's inconsistent, too dry here, too sticky there, impossible to roll out properly. Overmix, and you have tough (glutenous) crust. Alcohol does not develop the gluten, and vodka adds no flavor so it's perfect for the job. The basic rule is replace half the water with vodka. However, I wanted what these culinary geniuses (just ask any Cook's Illustrated subscriber) thought was the perfect recipe, so when I was all done with my little yard project I went online and dug up their recipe (Cook's Illustrated doesn't hand most stuff out for free, but I'm good with the Google).
I made an apple-blueberry pie. Took it to friends' the next day and tucked it in among the others on the dessert table. Pretty soon the accolades started coming--and here's the thing: my filling was only good, definitely not great. I'd been so focused on the crust that the apples were too chunky and the whole thing a bit soupy, but the crust was so good it just didn't matter as much. I was amazed at what a difference a great crust can make! I had a slice of another pie, and made sure to dissect the filling because it was superb--that filling, my crust: truly the perfect pie.
Made another pie. Again, perfect crust (and got the filling right). Made another one. Exact same results.
I am now the Pie Queen.
Unlike Cook's Illustrated, I won't make you subscribe or resort to Google subterfuge for the recipe. Here it is, in all its turn-out-the-same-every-dang-time glory:
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup cold vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold vodka
1/4 cup cold water
Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogeneous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour). Scrape bowl with rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.
Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together [I dumped the dough back into the food processor and pulsed a few times to get it really consistent. I actually had tried just sprinkling the water/vodka through the feeder tube while pulsing, but the liquid didn't distribute as well as I wanted. It isn't much hassle to dump the mixture into a bowl, then back into the processor, and the dough comes out perfect]. Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disk. Wrap each in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days.
So that's the Great Vodka Crust Recipe. Here's how I turned it into Great Apple Blueberry Pie:
While pie crust dough is chilling in the fridge, mix together and set aside:
about 3/4 cup sugar (I like to mix 1/2 cup white, 1/4 cup brown together)
about 2 Tbl flour
a pinch of salt
about 3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
Notice that the amounts are all approximate. Go with your preference and the tartness of the apples.
Core and peel 5 apples (I prefer Macintosh). Slice each apple into quarters, then slice the quarters crosswise into pieces about 1/6" thick (picky, huh? but 1/4" is too thick, 1/8" too thin and will make apple mush. It doesn't matter if some pieces are a little thinner or thicker--what you're looking for is that 1/6" average, which will deliver the perfect filling texture and consistency). Toss with a squeeze or two of fresh lemon (preferably a Meyer lemon), a few dashes of Tabasco, and most of the sugar mixture--reserve a couple of tablespoons to toss separately into a cup of fresh blueberries, so they don't crush and mush into the apples.
Roll out one of the dough disks (use lots of flour) and place into a nice deep pie dish. Pour in the apple filling and press down a bit, then sprinkle the blueberries on top.
Roll out the other disk of dough (see how easy it was to make a perfect round?) and place over the top. Fold and crimp to your heart's delight, have fun arranging little pastry cutouts around the rim or on top (I made a pie in an oval baking dish and lined the rim with pastry apple leaves. It was so pretty!) and cut a few slits in the crust. Brush the top with a little milk or cream and sprinkle sugar on it (I use either raw sugar for texture, or superfine baker's sugar for a glistening surface).
Bake according to your oven's capabilities. I have a convection oven, so I start it at 415, then turn down to about 350. It takes probably about 45 minutes, but I'm not sure because I haven't kept track. I just keep an eye on it. When the crust is nicely golden it is done and ready to delight your eyes, your mouth, and your tummy.
What's Russian for Bon Appetit?
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