The Wicked Cranberry

Butternut Squash and Apple Soup

2010-11-03T07:45:00.000-04:00

Behold, my first homemade butternut squash soup - ever. Despite that fact that I adore butternut squash soup, I've never bothered to make it. Frankly, I was put off by the obvious task of pureeing the soup, usually in a blender and in multiple batches. I've seen my less lazy friends do it, and I simply couldn't be bothered. Who wants to deal with all that scooping and blending and pouring? The number of dishes I would have to dirty alone was enough to give me pause. Yeah, I'm lazy sometimes. We can't all be Julia Child every day. However, now that I have a handy-dandy immersion blender, this soup was a cinch.

The first time I tasted butternut squash soup was in a little Irish restaurant up the street from Mom and Dad's house called Kate's at Milton Hill. My home town didn't really have restaurants, except for the much-loved local pizzeria and a small deli. So, it shouldn't be a surprise that we spent a lot of nights up at Kate's. There was a dining room as well as a small "pub" which eventually became our default dinner out. On nights when Mom had to work late, and even when she didn't, we would trek up to Kate's pub for some soups, sandwiches and a little Red Sox baseball. Katie's wasn't anything special, with its corny, Celtic stencils painted on the walls and the never-ending playlist of airy flutes and hearty fiddles, but it was relaxing, comfortable and close to home. To me, those are some of the same qualities that make up a good squash soup. Maybe it isn't the most remarkable thing I'll ever eat, but I always feel warm and happy having had it.

Butternut Squash and Apple Soup

Adapted from Bon Appetit, October 2003

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 medium onions, chopped

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon curry powder

4 1/2 pounds butternut squash, peeled, seeded, cut into 1-inch cubes

2 or 3 apples, peeled, cored and diced

4 cups vegetable broth

1 cup apple cider

1 cup white wine

Greek yogurt

Melt butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion, nutmeg and curry powder. Saute onions until they begin to brown. Add squash, apples, broth, cider and wine. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered about 30 minutes, until squash and apples are tender. Using an immersion blender, puree soup until smooth.* Add salt and pepper to taste. Ladle soup into bowls and serve with a dollop of Greek yogurt.

*If you don't have an immersion blender, you can puree the soup in a blender, pureeing a few cups at a time and transferring pureed soup to another bowl or container. When you have pureed all the soup, pour it back into your pot and simmer until the soup reaches your desired temperature.

Zombies!!

2010-10-31T11:06:00.001-04:00

Bahh!! Zombie pumpkins! Grab your shotgun, machete and canned goods and head for the roof! Zombie pumpkins are coming!

Yeah, OK, I am a huge nerd, but this pumpkin makes me think "zombie." Boyfriend and I discussed making a jack-o'-lantern out of one of these guys, but the irony was too much for me. I mean, am I really going to carve out zombie brains?!? Mmmmm, brains.....

Maybe I am taking this too far, but speaking from a purely gastronomical point of view, zombies seem to have veered away from the all-brain diet lately. Have you noticed? The recent batch of zombie movies seem to indicate that the zombie palate is expanding to appreciate skin, intestines or pretty much anything living, even non-humans. This shift made me wonder, are zombies appetites becoming more distinguished or less? Are they intrepid eaters or browsing billy goats? I'll leave you to ponder than one on your own.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Zucchini Ziti

2010-10-14T21:53:00.003-04:00

I don't like ziti. In fact, I hate it. Nine and a half times out of ten, I will substitute it out of a recipe. Who needs it? For one thing, it is a boring shape. Tubes. Blah. Two, is has no texture. Sauces seem to slide right off the damn thing on its way to my mouth. And really, what is pasta, if not an efficient means for delivering delicious sauces to my taste-buds? Three, most ziti is just a little too long to fit in my mouth sideways, which means that whatever small amount of sauce was able to desperately cling to the too-smooth surface, does not so much end up in my mouth, as on my face. Really, ziti? Let's just say, ziti and I got beef.

Nonetheless, since there wasn't really a sauce to this dish, I'll thought I would attempt to let bygones be bygones. Not to mention the fact that "ziti" and "zucchini" are really fun to say in the same sentence. Ziti Zucchini. Zucchini Ziti. Ziti, ziti, I love zucchini. Yum.

Savory awesomeness!

Ziti with Roasted Garlic, Onions and Zucchini
(Adapted from Bon Appetit, October, 2010)

2 lbs. zucchini, cut into 1/4-inch rounds
2 cups onions, cut into quarters and thinly sliced
12 garlic cloves, chopped
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 tsp. dried crushed red pepper
1 lb. box of ziti
1/2 - 1 cup fresh basil, chopped
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a large bowl, combine zucchini, onions and garlic. Toss vegetables with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and crushed red pepper. Spread veggies out across two rimmed baking sheets and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast veggies for 30 to 35 minutes, moving/stirring the veggies a couple of times.

While the vegetable are roasting, cook the pasta in a large pot according to the directions on the box. Drain, reserving about 3/4 cup of the cooking liquid. Return the pasta to the pot and toss with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Cover until the vegetables are done roasting, then mix in veggies and 1/4 of cooking liquid. If your timing is a little off and either the vegetables or the pasta gets cold, just warm everything in the large pot over medium heat until heated throughout. Mix in basil and cheese.* Add more of the cooking liquid, a little bit at a time, if necessary. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

Did I mention yum?

*There was a little bit of a trade off with the cheese. I get very annoyed when adding grated cheese to hot pasta dishes because the cheese so often wads up and encases a smattering of random ingredients in giant cheese balls, while the rest of the dish goes virtually uncheesed. (Yeah, "cheese" can be used as a verb). So I tried to add the cheese about 1/4 cup at a time and mix well before adding more. The trade off is that all the additional mixing (perhaps I was too forceful?) tore apart the zucchini. Oh, well, I'll trade pretty for delicious (and no cheese bombs!) any day.

Apple Cake with Lemon Sauce

2010-10-08T10:09:00.001-04:00

Apple picking! Hooray autumn! Thank bloody goodness. I am practically giddy about the crisp, cool, sunny weather. I kicked off autumn this year with a day of apple picking and baking. Regrettably autumn only lasts about 4 days in D.C., days on which I can stand in the sun in a light sweater and breathe in the sickly sweet smells of rotting leaves, before the temperature drops to 40 or below, and I have to dig out the scarves and winter coats. Inconceivable! I do my best to encourage my own little mental lapses, pretending that autumn is a real season in this swampland. I bake as many spicy, sour-sweet recipes full of pumpkins, cranberries and apples, as I can. (And for the record, my love of autumn has nothing to do with the fact that so many of my favorite seasonal flavors translate so harmoniously into desserts. Pure coincidence). Mostly, each autumn I'm determined to make the season last a little bit longer than it did the year before, mostly.

First up, is another recipe card from Great-Grammie's recipe box. After a few hitches earlier this week with her fig square recipe, I thought I would go with an easy one. (I'm coming back to those fig squares, even if I have to make several batches to get it right!) The original apple cake recipe was a little fuzzy on the details, listing "apple slices" and "lemon sauce" but not including the number of apples or how to make the lemon sauce. (I think the lemon sauce recipe may be lost to the annals of cookery). Honestly, as Great-Grammie's recipes go, a few missing instructions are usually the least of my worries.

I was surprised how great this cake came out. While I was mixing the batter, it seemed a little plain; I was worried it wouldn't have enough flavor. I couldn't have been more wrong. The cake itself was light and bouncy, so much so, it was tricky to get out of the pan, squishing down under the pressure of my spatula and popping right back up when I took the spatula away. The apples were also a surprise. I thought they would be dried out, which they were a little, but they were still crisp and juicy when I bit into them. The cinnamon and lemon sauce gave everything a little depth and moisture, which made me want to lick my fingertips and dab up any stray, sticky crumbs. Now I understand what Mom meant when she said, "This cake never got cold in our house."

Apple Cake
(Adapted from Great-Grammie's recipe)

1/4 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup sugar, plus 2 tablespoons for topping
2 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
4 teaspoon baking powder
2 eggs, well beaten
7/8 cup milk (2% or whole)
2 small apples, cored and sliced (I used Jonagold)*
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Lemon Sauce
(Adapted from Bon Appetit, December 1998)

1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (from about 1 or 2 lemons)
2 or 3 teaspoons grated lemon peel

Cake
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8x8-inch baking dish. In a large bowl, cream together butter and 1/2 cup sugar. In a medium bowl, mix together flour, salt and baking powder. Mix eggs, milk and dry ingredients with creamed butter and sugar alternatively. Pour batter into greased baking pan. Press apple slices into batter in concentric circles, starting at the outside then moving into the middle. Mix together 2 tablespoons sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over cake. Bake 35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Serve with lemon sauce.

*To keep your apple slices from turning brown while they wait to be added to your cake, put them in a bowl of water with a couple of splashes of lemon juice. I cut up my apples last, but, of course, forgot to preheat the oven, so they had to wait a bit before being added to the cake.

Lemon Sauce
In a small saucepan, mix together sugar and cornstarch; add water and bring to a boil. Boil for a few minutes until the mixture gets thick. Add lemon juice and grated peel. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature. Spoon over pieces of cake.

Makes about 9 servings.

Being a Grown Up is Kinda Like Fish Tacos

2010-10-04T22:04:00.002-04:00

I cooked a piece of fish. Several actually. This is a big step. If you know me, you know, I don't eat fish - not cooked fish anyway. Can't stand it. I keep trying, hoping I'll come around, but until this week, I had never cooked a piece of fish in my life.

When I was a little, Mom and I had a deal at dinner time. If I didn't like something, I had to have at least three bites of it or I couldn't get up from the table. Pretty fair, right? And who likes a fussy eater? However, on the nights we had fish for dinner, I felt the need to take a stand. I would sit and sit and sit, stubbornly poking and breaking up my bites of fish into smaller and smaller chunks, while Dad, Mom and the Mayor finished eating, did dishes and adjourned to the den for some family TV. One night, while I stewed in my disobedience, I could hear them watching Flight of the Navigator, one of my favorite movies! Traitors! I did my best to close my eyes and picture the scenes I knew by heart in my head, but after a few minutes, I couldn't take it; I scooped up all three bites on my fork and forced it into my mouth. I frantically gestured for Mom to inspect my clean plate. Look! Look! Yet, as soon as my parole was given, instead of plunking myself down between Dad and the Major for some fabulous 80s Sci-fi, I stubbornly refused to submit. That's right, I held that fish in my mouth, ran upstairs and spit it out.

Yeah, I was wicked mature. Get over it. I've totally grown up since then. As an adult, not only do I order fish in restaurants, but I often use my wine to help me wash it down. ( No spitting here! I'm a lady). Be that as it may, when Boyfriend came home from a recent fishing trip with several pounds of rockfish (pounds!! blerg!!) I decided to be mature, act the grown-up and face my three bites of fish phobia head on.

Fish Tacos with Fresh Salsa
(Adapted from Simply Mexican, by Lourdes Castro here)

The best thing about fish tacos, or any tacos really, is that you can add and subtract ingredients to suit your tastes. I really like avocado and lime, so I filled mine up with extra of both. Despite that fact that I had no source for comparison, I liked my fish tacos. They did seemed a little tame compared to their beef and cheesy cousins, but I still considered these tacos a success. Besides, Boyfriend tells me they tasted top notch.

1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1 and 1/3 lbs. rockfish fillets* (or any white flaky fish)
1/4 cup olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. ancho chile powder
1 1/2 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. cumin
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
2 jalapenos, seeded and minced
4 medium or 8 small flour tortillas

Toppings
1 avocado, cut into small chunks
handful of fresh cilantro leaves
Salsa

Salsa
3 or 4 cups tomatoes, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded and minced
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
juice of 1 lime

* I left the skin on my fillets.

1. Onions: place onions in a small bowl and cover with red wine vinegar. Cover and set aside.

2. Marinade: Mix together olive oil, chile powder, oregano, cumin, cilantro and jalapenos in a small bowl. Place fish in a baking dish (skin down, if you left the skin on) and spoon marinade over fish. Make sure to evenly distribute over all the fillets. Cover and marinate for at least 1 hour.

3. Salsa: Meanwhile, mix together all the ingredients. Add salt and pepper to taste. Give the whole thing a turn or two in the blender or food processor if you like your salsa less chunky.

4. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Bake fish, uncovered, for 15 to 25 minutes. (Mine took 20 minutes). To test the doneness of the fish, insert a fork and twist slightly. If the fish is opaque and flakes apart, it should be done. Flake the fish into a bowl.

5. Tacos! Assemble tacos in a tortilla with a couple scoops of fish, onions, avocado and salsa. Add lime juice or cilantro leaves to taste. Enjoy!

Gazpacho: Soup and Superpowers

2010-09-16T18:12:00.001-04:00

I have been thinking about superpowers a lot lately - and how much I want them. Yeah, I know, spending my time daydreaming about superpwers doesn't really smack of grown-up responsibility or maturity. Yeah, yeah, well that's how I look at most things in my life. I'll be an adult when I have to be, but I'm going to be a kid as often as I can. So this is where I rationalize fantasizing about superpowers. And if you're all honest, what person with the smallest amount of imagination doesn't? Right. That's what I thought.

Last month, I was watching a lot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which really made me want super strength - just for the badass factor. Then, after Boyfriend and I stuffed ourselves stupid with seafood while on vacation last month, I wished I had a superpower that would cook me excellent food, which little or no effort on my part. Oh, wait, they call that delivery. No, really, I got to asking myself, what superpower would be best for the kitchen?

At first I thought I might like Superman's lazer eye business, so that I could cook food with my eyes, but that didn't seem right. Then I thought I could be like Magneto and move all my pots and cooking utensils around with my mind. I finally settled on being like Wolverine. I can't get away from how handy those claws would be for chopping and dicing. (Snikt! Snikt! Gazpacho!) Plus, if I were like Wolverine, I get to drink beer and be irreverent. Bonus.

What superpower would you like to have in the kitchen?

Gazpacho
28-ounce can diced tomatoes (include juices)
1 cucumber, seeded and finely chopped
1/2 yellow pepper, finely chopped
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded and minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 big handful of cilantro, chopped
2 tbsp. lime juice
1 cup white wine
1/4 cup olive oil (I would use less next time)
salt and pepper
dash(es) of Sriracha (optional)

Combine first 8 ingredients. If too thick, add wine and oil. Adjust heat by adding a dash or two of Sriracha or your favorite hot sauce. Cover and chill for an hour to let flavors combine. Taste and readjust heat, salt and pepper to taste.

P.S. The great thing about gazpacho is that you can thrown in whatever you like. I like mine chunky, but you could also toss it in the food processor and make it smooth. This was my first time making it and I am already thinking of things I can add or change next time. Hey, carrots, come on down!

Peach and Blackberry Cobbler

2010-08-31T20:44:00.002-04:00

Do you ever get the feeling that life is moving too quickly? Do you wonder: did I really get enough sun-soaked outdoor time or smokey, campfire-roasted marshmallows this summer? Did I swim enough? Did I take full advantage of those golden afternoons on my balcony, when a cold beer and a cool breeze can feel just shy of heaven? Did I savor the overwhelming freshness and clarity that is so essential in summer foods? Call me a pessimist, but as the summer draws to a close, I can't help but wonder if I lived it to the fullest, catching every last morsel of that special joy that only summer can provide. At those times, I think back to all the things that define the season for me, like peaches.

Mom loves peaches. I have vivid memories of vacationing down the Cape, sitting around whatever cottage the family had rented, playing gin and watching Mom eat peaches. It is always amazing to me, the kind of subtle, non-traditions that seem to seep into my memory such as Mom's love of peaches. For me, peaches mean comfort and an easy relaxation that can only come with time spent at the beach, with no cell phones, blackberries or laptops. Just good food and good company. Away from the things of man, my love. Away from the things of man.

Peach and Blackberry Cobbler
(Adapted from Ruth Reichl's blog)

4 large peaches, peeled
8 or 9 oz. blackberries
1/2 lemon
1/2 cup sugar
1 tbsp. cornstarch

1 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp nutmeg
pinch of salt
1/2 stick of cold unsalted butter, cut into small chunks
1/3 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Slice peaches over a glass pie plate, making sure to capture any juices from the fruit. Add blackberries. Squeeze half a lemon over fruit and toss with sugar and cornstarch.

In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, soda, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Using your hands, work in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Slowly mix in the buttermilk, making sure the dough is not too moist. Plop spoonfuls of dough on to the fruit. Sprinkle dough with sugar and bake for 30 minutes. Serve immediately, preferably with vanilla ice cream.

Raspberry Lime Popsicles

2010-08-15T08:51:00.001-04:00

These days it seems like everyone has a strategy for dealing with the heat. The blogs are buzzing with homemade ice creams and frozen treats. So when Mom handed down these Tupperware Ice Tups molds, I knew I had to find a use for them. (Raspberries!) The Tupperware molds are totally timeless and work great, but I can't help but want these Cuisipro Sailboat Popsicle Molds. How cute are they? What could scream summer leisure time more than cute little sailboats? Adorable!

These pops were super tangy, which I love, but the thyme wasn't as pronounced as I would have hoped. Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to make more!

Raspberry Lime Popsicles with Thyme
(adapted from this Gourmet recipe)

1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
2 or 3 springs of fresh thyme
4 cups fresh raspberries (about 16 oz.)
2/3 cups fresh lime juice (from about 3 limes)

Combine sugar, water and thyme in a small saucepan. Heat until sugar completely dissolves. Cool. Discard thyme.

Blend half of the raspberries and half the lime juice in a blender until smooth. Add syrup, remaining raspberries and lime juice and blend until smooth. Force puree through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, pressing on the raspberry seeds and then discard them.

Pour mixture into molds. Freeze. If using molds without lids, wait a an hour or two, until pops are slushy and insert sticks. Freeze for 6-8 hours.

Vacation Edition: Boston

2010-08-13T18:02:00.003-04:00

While I was visiting the Fam in Boston this weekend, the Mayor (an affectionate nickname we have for Brother, who is not, in fact, an elected official) and I went to the 1st Annual Boston Food Truck Festival. This dog, from Boston Speed's Famous Hot Dog Wagon, was well over a food long - and I waited for over an hour for it. (I got it "loaded" with homemade mustard, barbecue sauce, relish and onions. Tangy!). I really wish I had put something in this picture for scale. The only downside to the day was that there were not quite enough food trucks to meet the demand (the lines were long!). Luckily, the Mayor was there with me. While I waited in line for this gigantor, the Mayor spied a shorter line and fetched us some of my favorite snacks: PICKLES!

Hot pickles...

... and sour pickles.

All in all, it was a great day. Plus, I heard a rumor that the group which organized the festival may be organizing similar events in other cities. With so many great good trucks in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia), I can only hope someone puts one together here.

Festival!

Interstellar Renegades and Cast Iron Cookware

2010-08-03T23:36:00.006-04:00

So I learned something about myself since starting this blog. I really enjoy watching Sci-Fi while I bake. I know; I'm baffled by it, too. I think it has something to do with the fact that when I first got big into baking, I coincidentally received Star Trek The Original Series season one on Blu-ray. It goes without saying that I was watching Star Trek more or less non-stop and there just so happened to be baking involved. Now, I have some sort of Pavlovian association between baking and Sci-Fi. Stranger still, it totally doesn't carry over to savory or meal type dishes. Figure that out.

Recently, someone reminded me how much I love the now defunct series Firefly. If you haven't seen it, Netflix it. It is wicked awesome. So, I thought, what could be more appropriate for a Western set in Space than a little cooking with cast iron, right? I said to myself, Self, if I'm ever an interstellar renegade, hopping from third world planet to third world planet, I am sure as shootin' gonna be clinging to my cast iron cookware. You never know when you might need it, for cooking or self defense.

"We're not gonna die. And do you know why? Because we are so very pretty."

I love tomatoes. I really really do. Fruit, veggie, whatever. I will never get tired of the tomatoes. Tomatoes as a dessert was too darn temptin' to pass up. You mean I can sneak tomatoes into a whole 'nother course? Hot damn! This dessert was a leap of faith, but I was handsomely rewarded. It was sweet and fresh tasting, with a funny kind of dessert pizza feel. Enjoy!

Tomato Tarte Tatin
(Adapted from this August 2010 Bon Appetit recipe)

8 or 9 large roma tomatoes
3 1/2 tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 sheet of frozen puff pastry dough, thawed, (rolled out, if necessary) and trimmed to a 10" round (to suit the size of your skillet)
1 cup heavy whipping cream
2 tbsp confectioners sugar

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Fill a medium saucepan with water and boil. While the water is warming up, cut a shallow X in bottom of each tomato. Blanch tomatoes, a few at a time, until skins begin to peel, about 15 to 30 seconds. Using slotted spoon, transfer blanched tomatoes to a bowl of ice water to cool. Repeat with remaining tomatoes. Peel tomatoes, halve lengthwise, cut out cores and remove seeds. (This step takes a few minutes to do).

(These tomatoes totally look like the eggs from Alien, don't they?)

Slice butter and spread over the bottom of an ovenproof skillet. My skillet is a 10" cast iron skillet, but any size, give or take an inch should work. Sprinkle sugar evenly over the butter. Arrange tomato halves, rounded side down, bottoms pointing out, in concentric circles.

Warm skillet to medium heat. Cook until sugar and butter are reduced to a deep amber syrup, about 25 minutes. Move tomatoes around occasionally to make sure they aren't burning or sticking.

Meanwhile, tackle the pastry. I used the better part of a 14 oz. frozen pastry sheet, which was a little smaller than the diameter of my skillet. If you need to roll out your pastry a bit, do so on a lightly floured surface, using a floured rolling pin. Once you have to size you like, cut pastry into a round a little bit bigger than your skillet.

Remove skillet from heat. Pour vanilla extract over tomatoes and transfer pastry round to skillet. It is ok if you're pastry doesn't exactly fit the skillet. If the pastry is larger than your skillet, tuck the extra pastry down with a knife or spatula. Cut a couple of slits in the pastry, and bake until it is deep golden brown, about 20 - 25 minutes.

Remove from oven and cool in skillet for 10 minutes. While the tart is cooling, mix together confectioner's sugar and cream in a medium bowl. Using a hand mixer, beat together until stiff peaks begin to form.

Loosen pastry around the edges with a knife or spatula. Place large plate over skillet. Using oven mitts, invert skillet over plate, and give a little shake until you feel the tart drop onto the plate. Carefully lift off the skillet. Rearrange any tomato halves that may have moved. Serve warm with a dollop of whipped cream.

You still there?

2010-07-22T22:20:00.004-04:00

Oh, hey there, Internets. How's it going? Me? I'm good, good. You know how it is. You get a little busy. You forget to return a phone call or an email and then you're like, should I even bother? Will she even remember or will I just remind her how disorganized and/or lazy I am? Blerg. In my humble opinion, it is always good to make the call, send an email, write up the Thank You note, whatever. People like to be remembered.

So, thank you, Internets, for not forgetting about me. I promise not to forget to write to you for three months ever again. For serial.

That said, I really can't fill you in on all the new recipes I tried in the last few months. However, the most promising addition to the weeknight rotation is this quick, bursting-with-complementary-flavors! shrimp recipe. Oddly enough, Best Girlie and I both made this recipe within a week of each other. (We love the food blogs). All I can say is that this dish was easy and delicious. I didn't change a thing, so you can read the original recipe here: Spicy, Lemon, Garlic and Fresh Basil Shrimp over Israeli Couscous. Remember, never skimp on the zest and make sure your garlic is fresh! Enjoy!

And now for something completely different.

FOODIE PHOTO COLLAGE!!

Even though you haven't heard from me, I have been a-cooking. Here are just a few of the things I've been up to.

Action Shot!

Calzonerific!

Artichoke, Black Olive Macaroni and Cheese

Looks weird. Tastes Good.

Guinness Pumpkin Bread Pudding

Apple Turnovers

"Beer Soup" or "How Much I Love the Boy"

2010-05-09T18:13:00.001-04:00

Sometimes Boyfriend feels a little left out of my cooking adventures. I usually plan to make dishes I think he will like, but, seriously, we can't have fried food all the time. (I tease, I tease). Honestly, Boyfriend and I love a lot of the same foods, but there are some dishes on which we simply disagree. For example, we all know how I feel about bread pudding. Boyfriend can't stand it. (More for me!) Meanwhile, he loves all seafood, while my feeling is that if it is cooked and has fins, it tastes like low tide. (I am strictly a raw bar/crustacean kind of girl). How do I keep the domestic peace? Every once in a while I throw the kid a bone and make a dish I have little or no interest in eating - and that's exactly how I ended up making beer soup.

Last weekend, Boyfriend and I were watching Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" Prague episode. Boyfriend, being of Czech descent, could hardly contain his excitement: "Can you make that? - Or that? - And that?" I told him he could pick any recipe out of our Czech cookbook and I would make it for him. Of course, he chose the beer soup, the one thing in the book that sounded more like an elaborate dare than a traditional recipe. At first Boyfriend didn't believe I would make it, but a promise is a promise. Beer soup it is.

"Dude, my dad is going to be so jealous." - Boyfriend

Beer Soup

(adapted from The Best of Czech Cooking)

1/2 loaf dark bread (about 10 oz.), cut into small cubes
16 ounces good Czech beer
6 cups beef broth
1 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
1/2 cup half and half

1. Place bread in a bowl and cover bread with beer. Let it soak for a few minutes.

2. In a large pot, bring the broth to a boil. Add the beer and bread mixture. Cook for about 3 minutes. Remove from heat and puree with an immersion blender. If using a blender or food processor to blend, let cool for a few minutes first.

3. Return puree to the large pot and bring to a slow boil. Stir in caraway seeds, salt, whole eggs and the yolk, using a big whisk or immersion blender to mix thoroughly. Take off the heat and mix in cream. Makes 6 servings.

P.S. You could probably play a lot with the flavor, depending on the bread you used. I used some kind of whole wheat everything bread from Whole Foods, but I would be interested to see how it tasted with a heartier dark bread. The soup was good, but wicked heavy. I feel full just thinking about it. That said, while I might not recommend making this specific recipe, I will say that this cookbook is great. Boyfriend and I have made several dishes, such as breaded veal cutlets with horseradish cream sauce and Chicken Paprikash, and will continue to use it frequently. Check it out - and be ready with a good store of butter.

Fig "Pop-Tarts"

2010-04-23T07:43:00.004-04:00

Nummy.

Do you want to know something crazy? When I was little, I didn't know that figs were a kind of fruit. For some reason, I thought the "fig" in Fig Newton was part of a proper or brand name like Isaac Newton. I seriously thought that the stuff inside a Fig Newton was some kind of processed jam composite that Nabisco had invented. I should note that when I was five, I also thought that Han Solo was Luke Skywalker's father, so I guess I wasn't always big on details.

Now that I have discovered the fabulousness that is figs, I am catching up with a vengeance. Figs are such a gift to the kitchen (and the cook). They are so versatile. Figs can go sweet or savory at the cook's whim. My favorite way to eat them is combined with salty or tangy flavors and watch the wave of taste sensations ensue. For example, they make a great late night study-break snack. Cut some dried figs in half, put a crumble of blue cheese on top and lightly warm the fig halves in the toaster oven (or zap in the microwave). Pop them into your mouth while they are warm. This little snack also makes a good hors d'oeuvre, if you can stand to share them.

For this adventure, I decided to try for the sweet, rather than savory. These tarts are my first attempt at cooking with figs in a straight up desserty way. The tarts came out wonderfully; they were flaky and buttery, with scrumptious, gooey fig centers. The recipe itself is pretty easy. (Note to self: I still need to work on rolling out and transferring dough). You can use whatever kind of preserves or thick jam you like, as long as it has some chunks to it. If you're planning to bring these tarts anywhere, be sure to note that the dough needs to chill and the prepared tarts need to freeze before baking.

Fig "Pop-Tarts"
(Adapted from this Bon Appetit recipe)

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all purpose flour, plus additional for shaping and rolling
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) chilled, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
4 tablespoons ice water
8-12 tablespoons fig jam
powdered sugar

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, salt, and sugar. Add butter. Mix in butter until the ingreditents resemble coarse crumbs. I find using my fingers works best. Add ice water a couple of tablespoons as at time, mixing until moist clumps form. Divide the dough in half, shaping each half into a disk, and wrap in plastic. Chill at least 1 hour.

Line two large rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, with a lightly floured rolling pin, roll out dough. The original recipe recommends 13x11-inches, but I am not that good at rolling out dough. As long as you can divide your dough evenly into same-sized rectangles, you should be fine. I rolled each disk out to about six rectangles, about 9x8-inches.

Arrange 3 rectangles on each sheet. Spoon 1 or 2 tablespoons of preserves or jam down the center of each triangle. Top with another dough rectangle. Using a fork press down all the edges of each tart to seal (and make look pretty). Using a fork, poke a few holes in the center of the tart. Repeat with the second disk of dough. Freeze tarts for at least 2 hours before baking.

Position oven racks in top and bottom thirds of the oven. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Bake frozen tarts for 25-30 minutes, reversing baking sheets after 15 minutes. Remove tarts form sheets and cool on a cooling rack. Put a kitchen towel or paper towels under rack, optional, but helpful for clean up. Sift powdered sugar over tarts.

Carrot and Cumin Soup

2010-04-20T21:35:00.005-04:00

Carrots, so obviously awesome, so often overlooked. I used to eat carrots like they were going out of style. I'm not really sure why I stopped. I think somewhere along the line they stopped being a super flavorful afternoon treat and became "diet food." And baby carrots. Everyone got so exited about baby carrots; buying the big bags just wasn't "in" anymore. At least, that is how it went down in my head. Recently, I've begun to remember how much I love this veggie. Carrots have so much going on, how could you not throw them in everything? They are good raw, as a side dish, in stir-fry or salad; how could I forget about them? Last month I tossed them in my shepherd's pie, so this month I pureed them in this quick, but flavorful soup. (Special shout-out to Boyfriend for the immersion blender Christmas present).

Carrot and Cumin Soup
Adapted from this Bon Appetit recipe

1 lb. carrots, peeled and chopped into 1/2" dice
1 large yellow onion
2 tbsp butter
2 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 tbsp honey
1 tsp lemon juice
1/8 tsp allspice (or more to taste)
1 small container plain yogurt

1. In a large saucepan, melt butter over medium high heat. Saute onions for about 2 minutes, just until they begin to soften. Add carrots and chicken broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes or until the carrots are tender.

2. Remove soup from heat. Puree with an immersion blender or in a food processor, until smooth. Return to pan and whisk in cumin, honey, lemon juice and allspice. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Ladle into bowls and add a dollop (or a generous tablespoon) of yogurt to each bowl. Sprinkle lightly with cumin and serve.

A Mustard by Any Other Name

2010-04-17T11:28:00.002-04:00

The Wicked Cranberry origin story #1.

I really like condiments: Mustards, hot sauces, A1, malt vinegar, Worceshire. You name it, I like it on something. I have been known, once, in a moment of extreme desperation, to put Grey Poupon on a Swedish Fish. (It was a rash and bold move, but not as much of a poor choice as one might think).

When I was little, I put ketchup on everything: turkey, rice and macaroni and cheese. In some circles I was known as the Ketchup Kid. I have since learned that putting ketchup on turkey is wicked gross. In high school, I took a big step and tried mixing up balsamic vinegar and dijon mustard for a delicious, if pungent salad dressing. In college, I carried bottles of Cholula and Worceshshire sauces in my knapsack to dress up the dining hall food. (Man, did I get funny looks pulling them out of my pack). And now, at any given time, there are about eight (yup, 8!) different kinds of mustard in my fridge. (Can you find all five in the picture?) One for hot dogs, one for burgers, one for sandwiches, several for sausages, and that doesn't include the miniature sample packs I've acquired over the last year (read: pretzel dippers). Whateva, I do what I want.

There was a big day in my life a few years ago, a day that knocked poor Ketchup down a peg or two or six. I met Brown Sauce. Malt Vinegar and I had a brief and tangy affair when I went to London for two weeks in high school. Brown sauce was there, like a dutiful wingman, present, but silent, but I only had eyes for vinegar. Then, when I moved to DC, I ran into Brown Sauce at a Irish bar in Alexandria and spent the whole night catching up over some shepherd's pie. I was smitten.

Thses early flavoring experiments and mistakes, we're like my first baby steps towards manipulating flavors and really cooking. For instance, I don't like Frank's Red Hot on pepperoni pizza, but if I mix one part Red Hot and two parts Worcestershire sauce, it an amazing pizza/bread stick dipper. And tuna fish always tastes better with a little dijon mustard thrown in. And if you wanna get a little weird, Wheat Thins taste really good dipped in cocktail sauce. Snackerrific!

These days, I've outgrown most of my craziest experiments, (I do put brown sauce on my Annie's shells and cheese, which Boyfriend tells me is gross), but sometimes I totally feel like Jennifer Connelly in the final scene of Labyrinth, when she is looking all sad and lonely, putting away her childish things, and all of a sudden Ludo is in the mirror, and Hoggle is all: "Should you need us." And it is comforting to know that I can still rely on my sauces on those days when I just can't face cooking anything particularly complicated. On those days, I just wanna open up my fridge and say, "every now and again in my life, for no reason at all, I need you. I need all of you." Then it's a party.

I Did a Bad Thing: The Infamous Double Down

2010-04-12T21:35:00.003-04:00

Oh my good god, what have I done to myself? I wish I had some means to recommend myself to your sympathies, but the honest truth is that I have been a lazy, grump-a-lump, this month and have no blog posts to show for it. Perhaps this evening's gastronomical adventure was a subconscious attempt at foodie flagellation. I have the sinking sensation that some where, some foodie collective will soon be voting to revoke my membership. Or maybe that feeling is just my stomach. All I can say is that I am sorry, so sorry.

In case you don't know, today, KFC released its newest menu addition, the Double Down sandwich. The Double Down is made up of 2 slices of bacon, 2 slices of cheese and Colonel's sauce stuck between two fried chicken filets. That's right boys and girls, no bun. Apparently, there is just too much fried goodness to accommodate a bun. - Oh, I know. Ew.

When Boyfriend made the suggestion that we try the "sandwich" a few weeks back, I was sure he was kidding. Little did I know the powerful sway which fried foods hold over his heart (and belly). Witness his unparalleled joy, as he savors the last few bites. ("Homp!") At one point Boyfriend looked at me and said: "This is the first day of the rest of our lives." To which I replied, "Assuming we don't die."

Angry Face

Some of the comments I caught from other Double Down dinners, all of whom were male:

"Awesomeness explosion."

"Dude, what I am about to eat isn't normal."

"After all that wait, it was totally worth it."

And Boyfriend's words of wisdom: "When eating a Double Down, always bring a buddy in case of spontaneous heart attack."

Honestly, I have eaten at KFC about four or five times in my life. Being from Massachusetts, what I don't know about the art of frying chicken could probably fill Nats Park. However, if you tend to like the somewhat soggy taste of KFC and deep fried bacon, chances are you'll like this sandwich. All I can say is that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I doused it in some hot sauce and it was fairly edible. So it's got that going for it, which is nice.

On the drive home Boyfriend summed up the entire experience succinctly when he said: "This situation will call for constant monitoring for the next two hours. I feel fine now, but I could die in two hours.... or throw up in 45 minutes."

Shepherd's Pie

2010-03-11T21:39:00.002-05:00

In case you missed all the green cookies and candies or the kitschy shamrock headbands and tiaras in your local CVS or grocery store, I thought you should know that St. Patrick's Day is coming up. Huzzah! As a tribute, this month I'm going to tackle an assortment of traditional favorites, such as shepherd's pie, bread pudding (as if you didn't see that coming), corned beef and cabbage, and more!

If you were to ask Mom her thoughts on Irish cuisine, she would probably tell you the term is an oxymoron or that Irish food is more functional than enjoyable. Granted, this is a woman who doesn't see the restorative powers of a warm bowl of gooey macaroni and cheese, either. Dad, on the other hand, knowing the healing influence of comfort food, is a big believer in the meat and potatoes philosophy. In making this recipe I tried for the best of both worlds. I added a couple of zippy touches, but still got to devour a traditional and satisfying success.

Shepherd's Pie
(adapted from this Cookie recipe on Epicurious)

1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
1 large carrot, peeled and chopped
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 pound ground lamb
1 cup beef broth
1 tbsp Worcestershire
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
1 tsp dried rosemary
1 cup frozen peas
2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 - 3/4 cup whole milk
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat oil in large skillet or medium-high heat. Add onion, carrot, garlic and lamb; cook until browned, about 8 - 10 minutes. Drain the grease. Return to heat, add broth, Worcestershire, tomato paste, parsely and rosemary. Simmer for about 10 minutes, until the sauce begins to thicken. Add peas. Remove from heat and transfer meat mixture to a 2-quart baking dish.

2. Meanwhile, in a large pot, bring the potatoes to a boil in salted water. Boil until tender, about 20 minutes. Drain and remove from heat. Add butter and begin to mash. Add milk by 1/4 cupfuls and continue to mash until potatoes are desired smoothness. Add salt and pepper to taste. Spoon mashed potatoes over meat mixture and spread evenly.

3. Bake 30 to 35 minutes until the top of potatoes are an appetizing light brown.

Orange Cranberry and Wheat Germ Bread

2010-03-08T19:44:00.003-05:00

For some reason, I am a bit of a klutz in the kitchen. I like to think that in the rest of my life, while I am not exactly graceful, I don't spill things on myself or fall down - not very often, anyway. I am very proud of this fact. However, get me in a kitchen and something is almost always bound to go wrong. This weekend it was a doozy, as I attempted to (and eventually succeed) in throwing together this munchable bread recipe from Great Grammie's recipe box.

It's a quick bread. What could possibly go wrong, right? Well, first, I was so darn excited to make this recipe, I yanked my bag of frozen cranberries out of the freezer and spilled cranberries all over my kitchen, spraying them like a bag of marbles at the feet of a villain in a kids' movie. I gathered them up gleefully, laughing at what felt like the lamest mini Easter egg hunt ever and giggling audibly whenever I found a particularly well hidden berry. (Let's hope I found them all).

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, shortly after I put the bread in to bake and happily settled down to catch up on some Netflix, I realized my second mistake. The sugar! Yup, you guessed it. I completely forgot to add the sugar. (Sigh). Boyfriend and I apprehensively waited for the bread to finish, took it out, let it cool and adventurously cut off a couple of slices. Two words: dense and salty. Needless to say, after washing down the tough bread wads and tossing the whole thing in the trash bin, I started all over again.

Made the correct way, the bread goes like this:

Cranberry Wheat Germ Bread
(adapted from Great Grammie's recipe)

2 cups sifted flour
1 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 salt
1 cup cranberries, halved
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup wheat germ
3 tbsp grated orange peel
1 egg, slightly beaten
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 cup warm water
2 tbsp vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, soda and salt. Stir in cranberries, pecans, wheat germ and orange peel. Combine egg, orange juice, water and oil. Add to flour mixture. Stir just enough to moisten ingredients. Spoon into greased loaf pan. Bake for an hour. Cool 5 minutes in pan. Remove from pan and cool completely on rack.

Great Grammie really knew her stuff when it came to this bread. It is wicked yummy and it has the double bonus of iron, a slew of vitamins and oodles of fiber, so it's healthy, too. Well, healthier than you average breakfast bread anyway. In fact, the only problem I have with this recipe, if you can even call it a problem, is the better part of a jar of wheat germ now residing in my fridge. Any ideas?

Cheese, Cheese, Cheese

2010-02-28T21:57:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, a well-stocked cheese counter can be overwhelming. With so many colors and consistencies or shapes and smells to choose from, how can you prevent a stinky cheese disaster? Each month, I continue my mission to explore my local cheese offerings, to seek out new flavors and sensations and to boldly try cheeses I've never tried before.

This month's cheese picks are random, but entertaining, mostly for reasons known only to me. Enjoy.

Old Chatham Sheepherding Company: Nancy's Hudson Valley Camembert. I know I should photo my cheeses all deliciously spread across some crackers, but then you really wouldn't understand why I chose this cheese. I was completely and utterly drawn in by the cute black sheep. He looks kinda demonic when the picture is this small, but when you bring him home, set him up in your fridge for a few days, you know, get to know each other, you'll think he's cute, too. Sheepys!

As for the flavor, well, I've never had a Camembert, at least, not intentionally. The consistency was like brie, only less dense and creamier, like softened butter. The flavor was similar to a bleu cheese, but milder. I am not sure I like eating it alone. The aftertaste was kind of funky. I think it would be fantastic with a hot pepper jelly or a fig jam.

Amedeus. I absolutely bought this cheese because of the name. Ironically, it was very mediocre. The little description card at Whole Foods claimed that this cheese was from Austria and tasted similar to Havarti. Oooo, I thought. I like Havarti. However, it tasted more like cheese that had been soaked in dirty dish water and all the flavor had run out.

I do want to include a shout out to Atwater's for their delicious spelt bread (pictured here). It is awesome with butter, honey, soup or plain. It easily outshone this cheese.

Irish Gubbeen. I'm starting to get excited for March and everything Irish. This cheese was a good start. It was semi-soft with a nice, friendly, nutty taste. It had a thin rind, which tasted similar to the rind on brie. Boyfriend and I devoured this little guy in one sitting... and promptly took a nap.

Not much of a contest this month. While I did like the Camembert, it reminded me too much of butter. The Irish is the big winner, and not because I am excited for St. Patrick's Day, which, of course, I am.

P.S. I made a bowl! My new bowl has little or nothing to do with this blog, other than the fact that I made it and I am proud of it. And, hey, you choose to read my blog, that makes you subject to my posting whims. Isn't it pretty? Hi, Bowl.

If you're interested in learning more about wheel-thrown pottery, check out the cool studio I go to: Hinckley Pottery.

Great Grammie O'Keefe's Recipe Box: Starlight Mint Surprise Cookies

2010-02-24T19:35:00.004-05:00

(Secret goodness hidden inside)

On one of my recent trips back up to Boston, Mom gave me an absolutely priceless gift, Great-Grammie O'Keefe's recipe box. Perhaps most notable is the fact that the recipes are about 90% desserts. (In fact, Mom specifically advised me to avoid any recipe that was not dessert related, because she couldn't vouch for its flavor and/or outrageous caloric content). The box has an entire section dedicated to frostings. Unbelievable. While many of the recipes have been typed up on index cards (nice!), some are handwritten in an elaborate script, from which I decode phrases like: "bake until done," or "add nuts." Great Grammie also liked to flagrantly omit ingredients until the point in the recipe that one would add them... because everyone had a double-boiler of melting chocolate going all the time, right? (Always read a recipe all the way through before you attempt it. Good advice for everyone). Despite the occasional frustration, the real feeling I take away from these recipes is that of following clues around Great Grammie's kitchen and the thrilling sensation of unlocking her baking secrets. I plan to try many of her recipes this year. I hope you like them, too.

From what Mom has told me, I am assuming that Starlight Mint Surprise Cookies were once a very common homemade cookie a la Tollhouse. A quick search on the Interweb turned up a bunch of similar the-way-my-mom-used-to-make-'em type recipes. The original recipe calls for Rockwood Chocolate Mint Wafers, but I couldn't find them anywhere. Mom tells me that Rockwood Chocolate Mint Wafers were similar to Girl Scouts Thin Mints, but smaller. Since I covet my seasonally-available Thin Mints like the last tube of toothpaste on Battlestar Galactica, I opted to put Andes Creme de Menthe mints in the middle of my cookies. I wasn't sure how much dough to wrap around each mint, so the first batch baked up bigger than I expected.

The dough itself is a pretty basic cookie dough. Despite the fact that I have made several kinds of cookies over the last year, I'm not a cookie person. Sugar, peanut butter, and shortbread cookies are just plain boring and not worth the calories. When it comes to your standard cookie dough recipe, I'd much rather sit down with a tube of the raw, premade stuff, pop in a movie, and go to it, preferably with my fingers. But this recipe was delicious. The cookies were a scrumptious combination of firm and chewy, with a great sugary taste, without seeming like a ball of sugar. And they were easy!

Starlight Mint Surprise Cookies

adapted from Great Grammie's recipe

Makes about 4 1/2 dozen

3 cups sifted flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar

2 eggs

1 tbsp water

1 tsp vanilla

1 package Andes mints

Pecans halves

Directions:

1. Sift together first three ingredients in a medium bowl. Cream together butter and two sugars. Add eggs, water and vanilla to butter and sugars and beat well. Gradually mix in dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Cover and chill the dough for at least 2 hours.

2. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Enclose each mint in about 1 tbsp of chilled dough. Place on a greased cookie sheet about 2 inches apart. Top each cookie with a pecan half. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes.

P.S. Great Grammie's recipe called for walnuts, but a) I like pecans better, and b) I already had pecans in the house, so I did a mix to compare. I am sure you can guess which I liked better.

Moroccan Meatball Stew

2010-02-21T13:23:00.007-05:00

I know it has been a while, but don't worry, I survived the Snopocalypse. Much to my chagrin, I didn't have time to hit the grocery before the panic-stricken hordes began picking the shelves clean of milk, cheese and toilet paper. I spent the week grazing and foraging through my pantry, which in addition to the usual pasta and canned goods had a good store of dried fruit, a box of clementines, some bread, some green beans and a bunch of frozen steaks (courtesy of Mom and Dad). After a week of making-do on slapdash dinners and Fluffernutters, I was actively fantasizing about a hearty meat stew.

Part of that fantasy might have been the result of my snowcation dedication to finishing The Eye of the World, the first book in Robert Jordan's fantasy series The Wheel of Time. While I wasn't crazy about the book, the characters really whet my appetite. (Think Tolkien, but a lot less action and a lot more running away and more running away). When the characters aren't surviving on dried meat and cheese, like you do when you are being chased by Darkfriends, Halfmen or other minions of the Dark One, they are scarfing down meaty stews at farms and inns. After four days I couldn't help myself. I needed some stick-to-the-ribs comfort food. Enter Moroccan Meatball Tagine with cilantro and lemon couscous.

Moroccan Beef Meatball Tagine from January's Bon Appetit.

Couscous with Fresh Cilantro and Lemon Juice

I know it isn't really fair to write this, being February and all, but this recipe was possibly the best recipe I made in the last year.* I suggested bringing a serving into work the next day, but Boyfriend and I both agreed it would upset the precarious balance of sharing the leftovers. We were still circling and eyeing each other over who would get more meatballs or veggies on the third night. I kid you not. The combination of the sweet, savory and hot spices was perfectly balanced, which just a hint of the cinnamon and nutmeg in every bite. And so economical! With the exception of the saffron (which I simply couldn't justify buying for an untested recipe) most, if not all, of these ingredients are things I buy on a regular basis. I am sure that omitting the saffron is some kind of cardinal sin to someone, but saffron is so expensive and I really don't know how it could have improved on an already wonderful dish. AND, I got to make my couscous in the cute new sauce pan Mom sent me. Huzzah!

*Despite this admission, I fully reserve the right to choose a Best of 2010 recipe later this year. In fairness, I didn't pick one for 2009, so it should all even out.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Radishes

2010-01-15T06:41:00.002-05:00

Do y'all remember Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre? C'mon children of the 80s, who's with me? If you need a refresher, seasons 1-6 are available on Hulu and Netflix instant watch. You have no idea how excited I was when I saw these titles on Netflix. The series is a who's-who of 80s entertainment, with guest stars ranging from Robin Williams to Carol Kane to Matthew Broderick and even James Earl Jones as Aladdin's genie. The tales are dark and funny and with just a pinch of sexual innuendo, which, until now, went right over my head. And you can't beat the hilarious production quality, even for the 80s.

As I was reacquainting myself with the series, I stumbled upon a few episodes I had never seen, one of which was Rapunzel. Apparently, as the story goes, Rapunzel's parents find themselves in a bit of jam, when Rapunzel's mom (preggers with you-know-who) can't get enough of these magic radishes, which (say it with me) only grow in a witch's garden. Dotting husband (played by Jeff Bridges) treks over there, night after night stealing radishes and dodging witches, when little does he know, Witchy put the hankering for radishes in Wifey's head in order to exact a vengeful price - a baby-sized price, that is.

Good, now you are all caught up. So, why I am telling you this? Well, because this episode had a strangely alluring radish montage. That's right. I bet you never thought you would see it, but there is a radish montage, which inclues radishes eaten off the stem, radish kabobs, radish pie, radish fondue and culminates in a toothy, cannibal-radish nightmare. Fantastic. And you know what I realized? I've never eaten a radish before - in my whole life.

Roasted Radishes with Green Beans
(based on this Gourmet recipe)

1 lb. radishes, cut in half lengthwise, then crosswise
1 lb. green beans, trimmed
3-4 tbsp olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Place racks at top and bottom thirds of the oven. Toss radishes with about 2 tbsp. olive oil. (You could toss in a bowl or in a gallon storage bag. I tossed mine in a bag, so I could reuse for green beans and use less oil). Spread radishes on a baking sheet in a single layer. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste. Roast on top rack for 10 minutes.

2. While the radishes are roasting, toss green beans with remaining 2 tbsp of olive oil (or less depending on your taste). Spread green beans in a single layer on a baking sheet. When radishes have been roasting for ten minutes, put green beans in oven, on bottom rack, and continue roasting both for a further ten minutes.

3. Test doneness of radishes, they should be crispy but tender. Depending on the size of the radishes, they may take a few more minutes. Sprinkle garlic over green beans and roast another two minutes. In a large bowl, toss radishes with green beans and serve.

Despite the fact that Boyfriend warned, "If you've ever bitten into a salad on gone: 'Ick, what is that?' You've probably had a radish," I decided to try one raw for comparison. I was instantly sorry I had decided to roast them. If you don't know, radishes have a hearty, mushroom-like flavor (I think that kind of taste is called umami, but the term is still confusing to me) with a kind of cauliflower/broccoli stem crunchiness. And the pepper! There is a charming and surprising peppery kick at the end of each bite. After roasting, the pepperiness is gone (sad face), but the radish itself it sweet and crispy, kinda like roasted cauliflower (which is kick-ass, in case you haven't tried that). Overall quite delicious. - What a puzzling little, cherry red, flavor-bomb you are, Brother Radish. I very much enjoyed eating you.

It remains to be seen whether or not other episodes of Faerie Tale Theatre will inspire new recipes in my kitchen. Until then, nerd on!

Ruby Thewes, you are a C-A-T-A-S-T-R-O-P-H-E.

2010-01-13T23:09:00.002-05:00

I wish I could say that I am completely composed when cooking dinner for guests. I wish I didn't doubt myself at every turn. Sadly, the added apprehension of cooking for an audience is just like being back in Spanish class in 10th grade. I do my homework, I know the lessons. But God help me, when the teacher asks me a question in front of the rest of the class, she might as well be speaking Martian, because all I hear is an anxiety-inducing string of vowel sounds. I'm not particularly proud of this behavior. Therefore, let me preface my holiday recap with the caveat that this entry fits more readily into the cautionary tale category of my gastronomical education.

The big show: Mom's side of the family comes over for Christmas Eve dinner. (Can Moms set up a sweet Christmas buffet or what? Well, I mean, we haven't actually served anything in this picture, but you get it).We usually serve a traditional Christmas ham. However, after a family meeting of Mom, Dad, the Mayor and me, we came to the conclusion that none of us are really wild for ham. After a few days of brainstorming, Mom and I decided to change things up with a Ginger-Marinated Pork Tenderloin.

The day-of everything started out swimmingly. I made the marinade that morning and tucked my ziplock of marinating meat into the fridge for a few hours. The relatives arrived a few hours later and we all sat schmoozing, catching up and absolutely devouring my aunt's superb hors d'oeuvres, until Mom and I excused ourselves to get on with the cooking.

Usually I can reign in my culinary insecurities, because as Julia teaches us, no one knows what goes on in the kitchen. However, just as I was browning my pork, a string of aunts, uncles and cousins came traipsing in and out of the kitchen. Bahh! Nervous! I managed to brown the meat and pop it in the oven without having a conniption, but little did I know, our dear, old GE had suffered a permanent fatal error. I guess the previous week of cheesecake, rolls, puffs and gifts breads were just too much for the old girl. And in my hour of need, she left me holding the bag and clutching at bits of my sanity.

Over the next forty-five minutes (!!) I periodically pulled out the pork, tested the temperature, doubted the thermometer, cut off a few slices, tossed the slices back in the roasting dish, drank two healthy-sized glasses of wine and almost ran up to my childhood bedroom crying. Almost. Instead, I paced, cursing the food gods for abandoning me and playing visions of everyone getting stricken down by salmonella from my undercooked meat in a loop in my head. Granted, I had just finished Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone, in which her mother accidentally poisons an entire engagement party. Maybe my judgement was impaired. Regardless, all I could see was the phone ringing all night with ill and irate MacKenzies, demanding my debarment from the kitchen. It didn't help that my side dish, sauteed brussels sprouts, received a lackluster reception. (They were pop-in-your-mouth scrumptious; I swear!) After working myself down a very deep shame spiral, the pork was finally done and I mustered every shred of self possession I had to sit and eat nonchalantly with the rest of the family.

What lesson did I learn? Well, first, the pork had a great ginger-garlic flavor, despite that fact that it tasted like failure. It was tasty, but after all that frazzle, I couldn't bear eating it. Second, after the family left and I had time to process, I realized it was not the food gods that had abandoned me, it was my nerve. In no functional kitchen on the planet should a skinny little pork tenderloin take 45 minutes to cook in a 425-degree oven. I know this; you know this. I should have said to myself, "Gee, I know how to cook a pork tenderloin," and "Hey, there must be something wrong with this oven." At dinner, I should have heard all my family's compliments for what they were, rather than translating them in my head into condolences. I should have trusted in my abilities and understood, once upon a time, my Spanish teacher was simply asking, Como estas? If I had, I would have been able to reply: Bien, pero necesito mas confianza.

Conquering the Cheese Counter: Goat Cheese

2010-01-10T13:21:00.000-05:00

Whole Foods is a dangerous place. I only ever go in when I have a very specific - and very short - list of things I need to get, but the post-workday frenzy that goes on between 6 and 8pm is intoxicating. I grab my few necessary items, take a deep breath and nine times out of ten, opt to take just one more exploratory lap around the store. The freedom of knowing that I am not doing my actual weekly shopping convinces me that, hey, it is okay to spend a few extra dollars on pomegranates or that I need to experiment with soba noodles or even that I really should practice my knife techniques on a ripe pineapple. Obvi.

Recently I was talking with one of my best girlies, Bex, about the cheese counter at Whole Foods and all the delicious, unknown wonders therein. Invariably, we both buy our favorite types of cheeses, (she likes goat cheese and I never met a cheddar I didn't want to take home and introduce to Mom) but what if we didn't? What if we tried the blue, the green, the nutty, the fruity, even the stinky? What if we ventured into our own veritable undiscovered country of cheeses? It could only fabulous. And as a double bonus, I will no longer wander the aisles of Whole Foods on a Wednesday night, idly running my fingers over everyday and exotic fruits. Instead, I get to spend twenty minutes perusing, smelling and scrutinizing the hills and valleys of the Whole Foods cheese landscape.

This month's selections are:

FireFly Farms Allegheny Chevre
Ok, so it is a bit of a bummer to start out with disappointment, but this cheese really didn't do it for me. My immediate thought was: unwashed gym socks. Granted, my cheese palate is not all that developed, so maybe I am missing something. I stared at the package forlornly, when I read, "Serve at room temperature." Ok, let's try this again. I let the cheese warm up and it did improve. It tasted more of earthy tang, than sweaty foot. Boyfriend's comments, on the other hand, are not fit to be printed. Bygones.

Capricho de Cabra with Fine Herbs
A significant improvement over the last cheese. It had a subtle, milder taste, which really propped up the herbs. This cheese was creamy, with that goat cheese tang, but it wasn't overpowering. The flavors kind of floated in and out of my tastebuds while I was eating it. It reminding me of something, which I couldn't quite place. (Every really great cheese should always remind you of something, even if it is itself). I would be happy serving this cheese to guests or just munching away on my own. This one was hard to put down.

Drunken Goat
For my final cheese of the month, I decided to go with the drunken goat cheese, mostly because my two previous cheeses were the super soft, spready kind and this cheese was firmer, like a swiss. (Also, check out Mom's super classy dinnerware in this picture). I guess the big selling point on drunken goat cheese is that is it soaked in red wine, but as sexy-party as that sounds, it really didn't make a difference in the flavor. In fact, this cheese was too mild. I feel like I was chewing on it for a minute before that goat-milky flavor even announced itself. Bummer.

This month's winner is: Capricho de Cabra with Fine Herbs! Runner-up: Drunken Goat. I can't help but think that if I had more time with DG, we might have bonded, but as it was, I had a plane to catch. On Boyfriend's recommendation, I decided not to attempt to fly my cheese home with me. I am pretty sure TSA would have had a thing or two to say about that. Additionally, sitting in my purse for 3-plus hours probably wasn't going to do my cheese any favors.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-04T22:37:00.002-05:00

Dude, how much more sexy is it to say, "20-10"? Way sexier than, say, 2009 or 2008. I mean, all those burdensome syllables. Think of how many seconds you're gonna save over the next ten years, not having to say two-thou-sand-(whatever). It is gonna be great, well, except for those folks who are walking 'round town saying things like "0-10." Give them time. Change is hard.

So, over the last few weeks, I have had many foodie adventures, all of which I am dying to tell you about, but before I do, I need to get those pesky resolutions on paper, out of the way, but (hopefully) not forgotten. They may seem silly or meaningless, usually because a) I do forget them as soon as I write them down, and b) they have been more or less the same since I was 15 years old, but I still enjoy them. In a way, they help me crystalize my thinking about where I see myself now and over the next year - and this year they are completely different!

In no particular order:

Eat more cooked fish. Somehow loving sushi, crab and raw oysters still doesn't alleviate the embarrassment I feel over being unable to stomach a salmon filet. All I smell when fish is cooking it low tide, which is ridiculous. I am a New Englander. Suck it up and eat the damn fish.

Will drink less. While I very much enjoy this continuing interest in cocktails and "mixology," after the second and most definitely the third cocktail, my senses have been sufficiently dulled to the point where it doesn't much matter what I am drinking and I shouldn't waste the $12 on something that will do just as much for me at that point as a cheap glass of wine. P.S. Will avoid cheap glasses of wine.

Will not be intimidated by new dishes or ingredients. Self explanatory. (Interesting story on bone marrow to follow).

Trust my cooking instincts. I really can't stress this one enough. I should put up a sign above my stove that reads: "Lady, you know how to cook. Go to it!" My OCD and love of cooking do not play well together. Hey, little OCD voice, I'm talking to you. In fact, I am shunning you. - Unshun. - For all of 2010. - Reshun. Period.

And the obligatory... Will lose 10 pounds. While I loathe to mention those 10 pounds, I also love good food. This year there is an addendum. Will lose 10 pounds by cutting out cheap, fatty, processed foods. If these pounds are the result of eating quality, fresh and (to the extent possible) local foods, I am not going to beat myself up about it. Nothing makes me feel worse than realizing I just ate a ton of Kraft macaroni and cheese when I would have sauteed some garlic and veggies in about the same time. That being said, I fully reserve the right to freak out if those 10 pounds start inviting friends over to crash on my tummy for a few months.

In keeping with these resolutions, I'll be launching a couple of new, regular segments on The Wicked Cranberry. Stay tuned.

Baking up a Blizzard

2009-12-19T23:54:00.001-05:00

I was snowed in today. All day. I baked. I drank. I played in the snow. It was a good day.

I've been waiting all week to try the Lemon Poppy Seed Sandwich Cookies from The Washington Post feature on cookies. They're rollout cookies, so I knew they would take some time. Then we were hit with a blizzard. Excellent. Time for baking!

Oy! These cookies were a lot of work. What rollout cookies aren't? However, there are rollout cookies that are worth the work and then there are these cookies. The dough was so unforgiving, breaking up into crumbly bits, as if on command, after the first re-roll. Damn. Frankly, I am not even going to put the recipe up here. Feel free to investigate the link.

The cranberry jam, on the other hand, was fabulous. I only wished I had a brunch to go to this morning to share this jam with others. Tart, but sweet and just how I like it. I had hoped the jam would be able to save these cookies, which it did, to an extent. If it weren't for the jam, I probably would have thrown the cookies out. They weren't bad, but they were a little floury and flavorless for all the effort (and butter) I put in.

So after hours of boiling, pureeing, rolling and baking, I finally looked up to see over a foot of snow on the ground outside. Holy blizzard, Batman! Having lived in DC for almost 5 years, I didn't realize how much I missed a healthy snowfall. After staring dejectedly at my cookies for half an hour, I tugged on my duck boots, tossed a scarf around my neck, pulled a hat on my head and struck out into the wintery wonderfulness.

Okay, I may have been that girl walking up and down my neighborhood, occasionally singing, but mostly humming Bing Crosby tunes to myself as I jumped and tromped into snow drifts, chasing that satisfying crunch of loosely packed snow. It was grand.

And then it hit me, why not make some mulled wine to warm up after my snow adventure - which is exactly what I did. This is my blizzard mulled wine, which consists of whatever wine, fruit and spices I had on hand.

Blizzard Mulled Wine

2 750-ml bottles of Charles Shaw Merlot
1 lemon, sliced
1/2 cup fresh cranberries
2 cinnamon sticks
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
3 generous tablespoons of sugar

Combine all ingredients in a large pot or slow cooker. Cover and simmer on low for at least an hour, but be careful not to let it boil. Ladle into mugs, snuggle up with someone special and sip contentedly.

Happy Holidays!

Pistachio Cookies

2009-12-18T19:59:00.004-05:00

Nothing gets me in the Christmas spirit like Christmas movies. Now, I am not talking about cheeserific junk like Prancer or The Santa Clause. I hate the cheapness of those movies. I mean, really, there is no challenge. Is it really that hard to be in the Christmas spirit when you find a new pet reindeer? Or your Dad suddenly becomes Santa Claus? I like the Christmas movies that make their characters work for it, like Die Hard, Scrooged, and even more traditional picks like It's a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. Life is decidedly not wonderful in It's a Wonderful Life; it begins with a guy wanting to commit suicide. And Miracle actually has Santa committed. Do you know what state-run, mental hospitals were like in the 40s? That's dark. Not to mention that no-bullshit little girl, who tells Santa to his face, that she doesn't believe in him. Those are some big, dramatic obstacles. And then there are the terrorists.

What I am trying to say is that Christmas spirit shouldn't be handed to you on a serving dish. You have to go through some tough times to realize just how nice you've got it. Which brings me to my next cookie recipe. Having watched "Die Hard" while I was baking my German Chocolate Cookies, (fitting, no?), I thought Scrooged, which is all about realizing the wonderfulness around you, would be the perfect picture to watch while I baked Pistachio Cookies. Why? Maybe because Frank Cross is like a pistachio, with a touch exterior and a sweet and salty sensitive side. Or maybe I just like watching Carol Kane hit Bill Murray in the face with a toaster.

Pistachio Cookies
(from The Washington Post cookie special)

3/4 cup (4 ounces) shelled, roasted, unsalted pistachios (plus about 50 for garnish)
2 tablespoons, plus 1 cup sugar
1 2/3 cups almond flour
2 large eggs

Yields about 30 cookies

Combine 3/4 cup pistachios and 2 tablespoons of sugar in a processor; pulse until finely chopped. Transfer to a bowl and mix in remaining cup of sugar and flour, using an electronic mixer. Beat on low speed to combine, then increase speed to medium and add eggs, one at a time. Cover and refrigerate dough for at least 8 hours. (It looks a little bit like baby food, but it tastes wonderful).

Position racks in upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat to 325 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Scoop out spoonfuls of dough and roll between your hands to form 1-inch balls. (More on this step later). Use a little bit of water to moisten your hands, if they start to get sticky. Place cookies on sheets about 1 inch apart. Press a pistachio on top of each ball, flattening the dough slightly. Bake on the upper and lower racks for 7 or 8 minutes, then rotate the sheets back to front and top to bottom. Bake for 7 or 8 minutes until cookies have spread slightly and the edges are a light brown. Cool for 5 minutes, then transfer to wire rack. Done!

I have one editorial note to make about the original recipe. I have absolutely no concept of size when it comes to anything smaller than a foot. I actually keep a desk tape measure in my kitchen utility drawer, not to actually measure things, but to give myself a mental image of what whatever measurement I am supposed to be using. Therefore, my cookies were a probably bigger than 3/4 of an inch called for in the original recipe. Hence, my only getting about 30 cookies out of this recipe.

All in all, these cookies were a great success. Don't be put off by their crunchy appearance; they are light and the perfect amount of chewiness. And they were SO easy. I made the dough in about 10 minutes on Wednesday night, and woke up early to bake them on Thursday morning. I was a little bummed that I didn't get more cookies out of the recipe, because I hoped to bring them to the work holiday party. However, Mom always taught me, if you don't have enough to share with everyone, don't bring anything at all. Boyfriend was delighted. Several times that morning, I caught him scurrying out of the kitchen with a couple freshly baked cookies tucked behind his cup of coffee.

German Chocolate Cookies

2009-12-17T22:29:00.003-05:00

What gives?

I'm just not feeling the holiday vibe this year. I feel like something is missing. I am not talking about the cheesetastic store displays or the crazies at the mall (they are still there and they still don't know how to drive in parking lots). I'm taking about all those little things, like obnoxious holiday movie marathons, outrageous home decorations, shopping list freaks-outs and, of course, cookies!

What I didn't realize about all these little things, was how much they function as an early warning system that, yes, in fact, the holidays are coming, and, no, you can't scratch that frenemy off your holiday party invite list. Junk.

Panic was setting in on Saturday, until I somehow rationalized that the holiday season couldn't start until I had a tree, a cute three- or four-footer with lights and ornaments and that great tree smell! Sadly, after Boyfriend and I spent two hours driving from store to store looking for one, it started to sink in that a real tree just wasn't going to happen for me this year. Blerg. (The little fake one from a few years ago held up pretty well, even if I put a few too many ornaments on there). So, if I can't fill my apartment with the warm, comforting smells of a real Christmas tree, I can certainly brew up some bountiful baking aromas. Thanks, Washington Post! Project Christmas Cookie: Launch!

Whoa-dee! These cookies were good. Seriously. I rarely get excited about a cookie recipe. Frankly, I rarely get excited about cookies, period. Cookies really have to be something special to get my attention and these were really interesting. My usual Ambrosia Macaroons may have a rival as my go-to cookie. Unsurprisingly, coconut is still involved. I might make them bigger next time; these little devils were addictive.

(Okay, they may not look like much, but that pack a lot of flavor!)

German Chocolate Cookies
(from Sally Sampson's "Cookies")
12 tbsp (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup light brown sugar
1 large egg, room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups sweetened coconut flakes
1 cup peans, lightly toasted, then coarsely chopped
4 ounces Baker's German chocolate

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Cream butter and sugar with electronic mixer. Beat on low speed, then increase to medium speed until the cream and sugar are smooth, scarping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

To toast pecans, spread them on a baking sheet and place in a 325-degree oven, shaking the sheet occasionally, for 15 minutes. Watch carefully; nuts burn quickly.

Add the egg and the vanilla extract to the butter and sugar mixture, beating between additions. Add the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt; beat until everything is well incorporated. Add the coconut, pecans and chocolate, mixing until well combined.

Drop the dough by heaping teaspoons onto the baking sheets, spacing cookies about 2 inches apart. DO AHEAD: the dough can be made and frozen for up to 2 months. Bake one sheet at a time for 10 to 12 minutes, until the undersides of the cookies begin to firm up. The tops may still look shiny. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.

(Note: The only thing I changed was that I only used a teaspoon of vanilla extract, rather than a full tablespoon called for in the original recipe. A tablespoon seemed like a lot).

Pear and Cranberry Pie

2009-12-13T21:34:00.003-05:00

I did it! I made a pie. I. Made. A. Pie. It wasn't pretty, but it sure was tasty. Okay, so there is a definite Frankenstein-esque look to it, but I've never made a pie before.

Stop number one on my trip to pie-discovery: L'Academie de Cuisine for a course on (obvi) pies and tarts. Man, did our instructor make it look so easy. One, two, three: pie crust. Riiiiight. No one in the class was really buying that it could be that easy either. Throughout the class, we shared stories about personal rolling pin showdowns and pie crust disasters. (Ahem.) Once upon a time, Mom might have been known to grumble, yell and even swear at pie crusts. Such behavior may or may not have caused Dad to hide in the upstairs den, pretty much as far away from the sounds of the kitchen as possible. But don't quote me on that. My instructor also told a story of a woman in one of her classes who ran crying from the kitchen in the middle of class. So don't be discouraged (or run away); commit to the pie crust, as ugly as it may be. As Mom always said, after the alleged swearing and rolling pin slamming, "Well, it doesn't matter how it looks, does it? It will taste good, right?" Absolutely, right.

Crust for a Two-Crust Pie
(from Chef Christine Ilich, c/o L'Academie de Cuisine)
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tablespoons sugar
2 sticks of unsalted butter, cold but pliable
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup cold water

In a large bowl, mix together flour, salt and sugar. Using your hands, mix in butter until the mixture resembles a course meal. Mix egg with water and add about a tablespoon at a time, mixing after each addition, until dough is just moist enough to hold together. Shape dough into two discs, wrap in plastic and chill 30 minutes.

It goes without saying that I enjoy these classes. There is a level of know-how that each chef brings to the class that helps me learn just what all this cooking business is about, such as the relative benefits of butter or shortening when making a pie crust or the affect of adding some egg to your dough. These kinds of explanations are the difference between knowing how to make a lot of recipes and knowing how to cook.

And I get to eat pie for lunch:

(From left to right) Sweet Potato Pie with Bourbon Cream, Maple Walnut Pie, Pear and Frangipane Tart and Apple and Cranberry Crumb Pie. And yeah, the pictures are fuzzy because taking pictures with my Blackberry kinda sucks.

Stop number two: my farmers' market for some sweet, juicy pears. I was so excited to make my first pie, I headed out into the rare D.C. snowfall last Saturday to visit my farmers' market in search of fresh pears. What a wise decision. These pears were the perfect ripeness. After tossing my crust discs in the fridge for a good chill, I sat down with my pears and the new "Star Trek" movie for some peeling, coring, slicing and avenging Romulans.

Pear and Cranberry Pie
(recipe from Good Housekeeping Step by Step Cookbook)
3 tablespoon cornstarch
1/8 tsp cinnamon
3/4 cup plus 1 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 cup cranberries
6 large ripe pears (about 3 pounds), peeled, cored and sliced
2 tbsp butter

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large bowl mix cornstarch, cinnamon and 3/4 cup sugar. Add cranberries and pears; toss to combine. On a lightly floured surface, using a lightly floured rolling pin, roll out one of the discs of dough. Try to roll out your dough to be a few inches wider than your pie plate. You can always do a little patching later. making sure that the dough is lightly floured so that is doesn't stick, gently roll dough around your rolling pin and transfer to pie plate. Using a butter knife, trim the excess dough from around the pie plate. Keep the scraps to patch any holes in the bottom or top crusts. Spoon pear mixture into pie crust. Place dabs of butter over mixture. Roll out second disc, and place over filling. Cut a couple of slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape. Sprinkle pie with 1 tablespoon sugar.

Place sheet of foil underneath pie plate, folding up edges of the foil to form a rim. The foil will catch any sticky drips. Bake 20 minutes. Turn oven temperature to 375 degrees. Open the oven a crack for a minute or so, (don't walk away!) to allow the oven temperature to reach 375 degrees, close oven and bake 60 to 70 minutes longer, until filling is bubbly in center. Cool pie on wire rack for 1 hour. Serve warm.

Stop number three: my belly!

Pasta with Ratatouille

2009-12-13T08:18:00.004-05:00

Shocking. Shocking is the only word I can think of to describe my food habits over the last few weeks. After all the roasting, baking and eating of Thanksgiving, I lost all foodie focus. Out of sheer laziness, I have made meals out of a bag of Pirate's Booty, Easy Mac (because regular mac and cheese seemed too much to handle), and the better part of a jar of kosher dills with a side of turkey pepperoni. Not to mention the fact that I recently had leftover roast beef with horseradish cream sauce - for breakfast. I feel like I have been on a food bender. Disgraceful.

This week, I was back on the wagon, ready to purge myself bad, post-holiday habits with a hearty helping of Pasta with Ratatouille.

Look at those bright, friendly colors!

I may not have been creating good foods after the holiday, but I was exercising my inner foodie outside of the kitchen. I had been visiting a lot of bookstores, perusing new, old and used books, when I decided to pick up a copy Ellen Helman's The Uncommon Gourmet. Mom has been cooking from this book for years. Ellen Helman provides a varied collection of simple recipes which are suitable for everyday, but often elegant enough for company. I'll be cooking from this book again soon. And so should you.

Pasta with Ratatouille
(Adapted from The Uncommon Gourmet)
1 medium eggplant, peeled and chopped into 1/2" cubes
2 medium zucchini sliced into 1/2" rounds and cut in half
salt
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 large red pepper, sliced
1 large green pepper, sliced
1 large red onion, halved and sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 tsp dried basil
1/4 - 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
salt and pepper to taste
28-oz. can diced tomatoes, drained
3/4 cup black olives, sliced
1 tablespoon capers
1 pound gemellli (or other textured pasta which will hold a liquidy sauce)

Makes 6 servings. Place eggplant and zucchini in a colander and sprinkle generously with salt. Let stand for about 30 minutes; rinse and pat dry. Warm 1-2 tablespoons olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Saute eggplant and zucchini until lightly browned. Remove vegetables from pot and set aside.

Add another 1-2 tablespoons of olive oil to pan. Add peppers and onions; saute until soft. Add garlic, parsley, basil, crushed red pepper, salt and pepper to taste. Add at least 2/3 of can of tomatoes or more if you like. (I started by adding 2/3 of the can, which looked right, but I like tomatoes, so I tossed the whole can in there). Simmer for about 5 minutes. Return eggplant and zucchini and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, cook and drain pasta according to directions on box.

Add olives and capers to the vegetable pot and simmer another 5 minutes, uncovered. Toss veggies with pasta in a large bowl and serve with freshly grated parmesan cheese. Makes great leftovers for the lunch box.

Boyfriend liked this dish so much, he said, "I don't even mind that there isn't any meat in it." So there you go.

I'll Julienne You, You Fuzzy Little Foreigner

2009-11-22T22:11:00.001-05:00

Chef knife? Serrated knife? Ninja star? What, oh what, is the right tool? I'd really like to know. Solution? L'Academie de Cuisine's Basic Knife Skills class. (This class is held monthly, and sells out frequently, so reserve your spot early). What an eye-opener. I don't pretend to know the first thing about correct form or whatever. However, during the demonstration part of the class, I saw many of my "techniques" kindly explained as, "What not to do." Oh. Whoops.

ONIONS (recreated for your viewing pleasure)
I felt pretty confident on my onions, thanks to some detailed diagrams in one of my cookbooks. I knew that one cuts an onion in half lengthwise, cuts off the bottom and slices down from the root, about as far apart as you want your chop. Then slice the onion crosswise and you get lovely, little cubes. Thank you, Good Housingkeeping for preventing me from looking like a complete ass on onions.

CARROTS

I didn't really learn anything about carrots, other than when cutting up round veggies (what veggies aren't round?) cut a little off one side to create a flat side on which the veggie can rest. With a flat side, your veggie isn't rolling all over the place, forcing you to chase it with your free hand and your knife. There is always a chance that a wily veggie may hightail it out of there, leaving only your fingers and knife to duke it out amongst themselves.

RED PEPPER
Here's a memo from the Land of the Obvious. Rather than try to cut out the tops and seeds, pumpkin-style, cut down the sides. Slice the pepper down from the stem to the tip into 4 or 5 long chunks, then slice into strips. This lesson is generally helpful for all different kinds of peppers, especially when you're trying to avoid touching too many spicy chili seeds.

GARLIC PASTE
This was just cool. I am constantly putting minced garlic in sauces and dressings. I mince as finely as I can, but I am always a little worried that one of my guests will get a chunk of raw garlic to bite down on. Because I have an irrational hatred of the garlic press, this little trick made my day. (Yes, I lead a simple life). Mince the garlic a finely as you can; squish and pull the garlic with the flat of your knife, a little bit at a time, continuing to squish and pull the garlic from right to left across your cutting board. Voila! Garlic Paste. So Obvious. (However, does not photograph well).

BASIL
Finally, I picked up this handy trick for slicing basil. I usually stack up a bunch of basil leaves, largest to smallest, and attempt to slice vertically from the tip to stem. However, if you take your little stack of leaves, roll them up, and slice across your little basil rollie, presto! sexy, basil slices. Who would have thought?

I also learned to de-bone a chicken, but it is a little too complicated to recreate here. It was wicked cool. These are just a few of the things we learned. And we got to make lunch!

My table partners were both chatty and friendly; we easily talked in small groups about our favorite kinds of cooking styles and interests. It was a little like begin in science lab on the first day of sophomore year. You have to share your space and tools, but you don't want to encroach or be grabby. After the demonstration part of the class, we were set free to wreak havoc on our own platters of unsuspecting veggies, which we turned into a stir fry. Our stir fry came out well, although I may have been a little generous with the chili oil. As we have all learned, when it comes to the spicy, I am wicked heavy handed. I even tried to hold back a bit this time, but I was so proud of my brunoise jalapeno (which, I learned, it was you call julienne strips if you dice them into cubes), that I dumped the whole thing in there. Sue me.

Despite the fact that I was exceedingly nervous about cooking in front of a room full of strangers (not among, mind you, but in front of, because in my mind all eyes are on me, right? Why else would I have started a blog?), I really enjoyed this class. Even if you are a little farther along in your culinary training, I am sure you'll enjoy yourself and learn something, too!

Chocolate Cake Challenge: Part Deux

2009-11-10T18:52:00.007-05:00

As you read the title of this post you may ask yourself, "Why is she attempting another chocolate cake" Fair question. In the borrowed words of Captain James T. Kirk, let me respond: "because it is there." OK, baking a cake may not have a lot in common with climbing a mountain, except that it represents a personal challenge to oneself. I love chocolate cake, therefore, unless I want to weight 300 pounds, I must devise a chocolate cake recipe that Boyfriend will truly enjoy. I sought inspiration from his favorite holiday cocktail, the Grasshopper. What I came up with was a fluffy chocolate cake, with a subtle mint flavor.

Chocolate Grasshopper Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup unsweetened cocoa
(1 package instant chocolate pudding mix)
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup creme de menthe
1/4 cup creme de cacao
3/4 cup softened butter
1 3/4 cup sugar
4 eggs

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and lightly flour bundt pan. In a medium bowl, combine flour, cocoa, (pudding mix), baking powder, baking soda and salt. In small bowl, combine milk, creme de menthe and creme de cocoa.

In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Alternatively, beat in dry and wet ingredients, a few scoops at a time, until incorporated and batter is smooth. Transfer to bundt pan. Bake about 45 minutes. Cool for a few minutes and turn out on baking rack.

(Green in good. If you ask me, there isn't enough green food).

Grasshopper Glaze
1 1/2 tbsp creme de cacao
1 1/2 tbsp creme de menthe
1 1/2 tbsp milk
1 cup confectioner's sugar

Mix all ingredients together until smooth. Drizzle over warm cake.

I wanted to make a bundt cake because I have noticed that people generally feel less bad about munching away on a bundt, while a whole slice of cake can feel like a big commitment. However, if a conventional layer cake is really your thing, this recipe could easily be made with 3, 8" layer pans and your favorite frosting. (Note: if making a layer cake, reduce baking time to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in center of cakes comes out clean). I'll have to come up with a creamy, mint frosting for the layer cake version. (Part III?)

My only reservation is that I meant for this recipe to be more spongey. I realized after I put it in the oven that I forgot to add the pudding mix, which I believe would have achieved that effect. Even more regrettable is the box of pudding mix that will stay on my shelf for the next month, mocking me, until I bake this cake again. Perhaps I can impose on my parents' good natures and make this cake for them while I am in Boston over the holidays. What do you say, Mom? This cake is really fluffy and delicious. I promise.

Better Baking with Beer

2009-11-05T21:45:00.017-05:00

Once upon a time, a few years ago, I tried to make a Guinness Chocolate Cake. The operative word in that sentence being, "tried." It did not go well. However, never one to be bested by inanimate objects or ingredients, I knew I had to try again. Despite or perhaps because of Boyfriend's taunt of, "You remember what happened last time you tried to mix Guinness and chocolate, right?" I felt compelled to try Modern Domestic's scrumptious Chocolate-Guinness Oreos. Yum!

At the time, I'd never made a layer cake before and was very excited about the idea. I love chocolate cake and Boyrfriend loves Guinness; what could be better than a decandent chocolate stout cake? I ran right out to the store and bought some one-use cake pans. (Big Mistake #1).

As I mentioned, I have never made a layer cake before. Come to think of it, I don't think I had made a cake, period, other than my trademark (read: idiot-proof) pistachio bundt cake, before attempting this four-layer edifice. Suffice is to say, I had no idea what I was in for. As you can see, the recipe calls for 4 cups of flour. Having little or no previous cake experience, this did not strike me as a large amount. So I went along my merry way, sifting and mixing and happily humming to myself, as I often do when baking.

Holy mackerel, did I make a mess. Big Mistake #2: I didn't let the cake layers cool enough before trying to stack and frost. Big Mistake #3: when my not-porperly-set cake layers started to crack and fall apart I tried to "glue" them back together with frosting, which, of course, was melty rather than sticky because the cake was still warm. Right about now, my kitchen had started to resemble the scene from "Sleeping Beauty" when the little green fairy tries to bake a birthday cake without magic - or an oven. If I had a broom, I certainly would have tried to prop my cake layers up with handle. (Big Mistake #4: Not making a fantastic "Slime Rickey" from YumSugar, to get me through the hard times). Unfortunately, at this point, panic had set in. As softball-sized chunks of semi-frosted cake goo tumbled to the floor, I frantically attempted to salvage the base layer, by throwing - yes throwing! - falling, double handfuls of cake across the room into the garbage bin. (Big Mistake #5) By this time, I am literally covered in cake and frosting, nearly up to my elbows, not to mention that I have stepped in cake and am tracking it all over the kitchen. All the commotion drew Boyfriend, who, surveying the scene, kindly informed me that, "It's ok; I don't even like chocolate cake." Blerg!!

The moral of this story? Well, there really isn't one. I can tell you that throwing mounds of semi-solid cake across the room creates more problems than it solves. Right. How about: if at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

Chocolate-Guinness Flavored Success!

P.S. It has been brought to my attention that I didn't actually write about these amazing cookies in this post. Therefore, it should be noted that these cookies were yumtastic. It has to be a pretty exceptional recipe to get me excited about roll-out cookies. These were well worth the effort. They weren't too soft or too sweet. As one of my work colleagues put it, "Ohh, that cookie was a moment."

Colossal Chili Fail

2009-10-29T21:06:00.003-04:00

As my father so affectionately put it, "How the hell do you screw up chili?" I am chili-cursed. Seriously.

No, there are no pictures. Yes, it was that bad. I don't know what went wrong, but - oh, man - did it go wrong. Every time I try to make chili something invariably goes wrong. And not just, let's-throw-some-junk-in-there-and-fix-it wrong. Irrevocably wrong. Grrr.... argh.

Rather than use one of my mother's handed-down chili recipes, I thought I would try my hand at this Bon Appetit recipe. Why? I don't know. I am masochist? Obvi. So, I whipped up this disaster over the weekend to my acute disappointment. Note: I made this recipe more or less as written. I did make a few minor substitutions, but nothing that should have altered the overall flavor of the dish. Or so I thought.

The overall appearance upon serving was a little disconcerting; my immediate thought was, "This is chili. It ain't always pretty." But, secretly, I knew. I knew as Boyfriend and I tried our first bites and a heavy silence enveloped the apartment. I have to give bonus points to the boy for waiting until I pushed my own bowl away (and had emitted several grumbly curses to myself) before he gave off any obvious signal that it was inedible. Good boy.

But seriously, does the god of chili have it in for me? The first time I tried to make chili, I inexplicably doubled the amount of chili powder called for in the recipe. Hot. At the time, I managed to balance it out enough with extra tomatoes, black beans and anything else that was in arm's reach and vaguely complementary to chili, so that it was cool enough to eat, but the story doesn't end there. A few months later, I tried to make this chili again (with the appropriate amount of chili powder) and it was ... just ... missing ... something. Unfortunately, I didn't write down what I added to my first attempt, which apparently were the key ingredients to making it delicious. Of course.

When all else fails, do what you should have done in the first place: listen to your mother. Mom has given me not one, but two tasty, fool-proof chili recipes. Have I made either of them? No. Knowing my penchant for screwing up chili, did I decide to go with the tried-and-true favorites, which have been served at our and our family friends' tables for 30 years? No. I had to give over to my hubris. I was high on my braised pork patties and eager for more glory. And what did I end up with? Funky meat glop, that made a disturbingly familiar thhh-plop sound as I spooned it into the garbage bin.

Now I have guilt.

Poor Boyfriend had to wait all day, smelling the deceptively appetizing aromas emanating from my beloved dutch oven, Rosy, only to be robbed of dinner and many successive and anticipated leftovers. Mac 'n' cheese anyone?

FAIL.

Cookbook Review: "Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean"

2009-10-24T09:59:00.001-04:00

If you happen to find yourself planning a trip to Cambridge, Massachusetts any time soon, one of the many fantastic places at which you should eat is Oleana. My family and I went here last year and the meal we shared ranks as one of my all time most mind-blowingly awesome meals. To this day, I have no idea what I ate, but whatever it was, it engaged all five of my senses in a complete full-body experience.

So I decided to buy the cookbook. Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean.

For weeks I have been dying to try anything from this book; it is so neat. The book is organized by flavor combinations rather than courses. Given the increased likelihood of my spectacular failure when dealing with new flavors, I opted for the galette of tender pork with cumin and cider, which looked like the exact, right amount of effort for a Sunday afternoon cooking adventure. Armed with all the ingredients and a brand-spanking-new dutch oven, I set to it.

[Love note to my dutch oven: Hi, Gorgeous. Look at you, with your inviting, burnt red enameling. How could I resist? You idly glance over at me from the stove, like a giant cat dozing on a warm radiator. Well, hello. I just know we are going to have a long and filling relationship of meats, stews and casseroles. Welcome home. Let's try not to make the other cookware jealous].

Waiving my novice flag high, here, I'll admit that I have never worked with a multiple pound cut of pork before. I was nervous, but it wasn't too difficult once I decided to go all-in in cutting it up. Then I rubbed the pork down with a ton of salt, garlic and cumin and braised it in cider for several hours. The worst and best part of braising is the smell. At first, all I could smell was the garlic and cumin, mostly because I was smelling myself. Having worked both into the meat somewhat vigorously, I inevitably rubbed it well into my own skin. Not that I have a problem with that. After about an hour of braising, the warm, spicy smell of cider began to waft through my apartment. YUM! I took the meat out to cool before I ripped it apart and reformed it into patties for pan frying. Believe it or not, I used to be afraid of touching raw meat and chicken. Embarrassing. Really. However, I have come a long way; I really enjoyed pulling the pork apart with my fingers, separating out the fat and other bits. Ah-ha! My inner germophobe knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, let me tell you!

I also tried my hand at the dolmas, which is just a grape (or other) leaf, stuffed with rice or other deliciousness. These little Swiss chard rice bombs were frakkin' amazing, despite the fact that I haven't quite figured out Swiss chard. Swiss chard has so much going on flavor-wise, but the leaves are huge. Every time I saute rather than blanch it, I feel like I am fighting lobsters into a pot. The giant leaves loll out the sides like legs or giant tongues trying to escape my skillet. "Ged in there!" ( I suppose I could tear/chop them up a bit, but where is the drama in that?) The dolmas, which were filled with spicy rice with onions, garlic, red pepper paste and a hint of mint, were surprisingly easy to make. I served everything with a side of greek yogurt to complement the spicy rice. Highly recommended.

Although a lot of the recipes in this book are somewhat labor intensive and certain ingredients may be difficult to find, (Hence my going with recipes that included ingredients with which I was already familiar.), it will be a great addition to my library, especially as my skill improves. So if you're looking to branch out into some exciting flavor combinations from Europe and the Mediterranean, check out this book.

Food Notes from My Sick Bed

2009-10-19T22:13:00.001-04:00

Activity in my kitchen came to a screeching halt last week when I managed to contract not only strep throat, but the flu as well. Before I got sick I had all sorts of different post ideas in mind, which I no longer have time to develop in full. In the interest of purging my head of these buzzy bees, I thought I would do my own little weekly blog roundup, made up entirely of my mental cranberry stew of half baked reviews, recipes and Theraflu induced-reveries.

Art and Soul. As I mentioned, my parents were in town a few weeks ago. The first stop on my parents foodcation in D.C. was Art and Soul. For me, the meal began and ended with the lamb loin hoecake. Everything was delicious, but this little plate was so packed with flavors, from the tender lamb to the sweet pickled onions and cucumbers and light dressing. It was like a heavenly gyro. When the food gods want a gyro, they call out for one of these hoecakes.

Founding Farmers. Apparently, I am the last person in the D.C. area to know that this restaurant is awesome. I ordered the mixed grill (fried chicken, bratwurst, pork ribs and cole slaw), so I could sample as many meat dishes as possible as well as a side of mac 'n' cheese. Extravagant, I know, but as my favorite foods go, mac 'n' cheese is right up there with bread pudding. And I had heard things about this mac 'n' cheese. This mac 'n' cheese is the best mistake you'll ever make. Holy Mackerel! I wanted to bury my face in the stuff. Whew. Also, the pot roast was singular is its unique depth and subtle sweetness which we couldn't quite place (anise? allspice?). All of our portions were big, so come hungry.

Finally, I continued my love affair with Fall. I had hoped to whip up some true Oktoberfest fare, with beers, brats and sauerkraut. Yum! Sadly, all I could muster was was a Pumpkin Bread Pudding and some pumpkin beer. I substituted dried cranberries for the raisins, but I didn't even get around to making the caramel sauce. The morning after I baked the pudding, I was hit and hit hard by the flu. I only tried one piece before my convalescence. Unfortunately, I can't really remember much beyond that other than it was pumpkiny. After that, I was on a strict diet of oatmeal, oatmeal and bread for days.

Coming up: I try my hand at a couple Eastern Mediterranean-inspired meals from my new cookbook: Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean.

Spicy Soba Experiment

2009-10-07T08:19:00.001-04:00

I love pasta. Love. It. I could eat pasta everyday for the rest of my life and die bloated and happy. But, sigh, pasta does not reciprocate my feelings, forcing me into erratic encounters with these comforting carbohydrates, usually when I feel I "deserve" some pasta after a hard day at work or several successful dieting days. Rather than dieting and binging, I have been trying to find tasty recipes for healthier pastas. I have even experimented with tofu substitutes, such as House Foods Tofu Shirataki noodles, which aren't bad, if you know how to dress them.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, Mark Bittman showed me just how easy it was to make a satisfying soba salad. Having braved the squishy, slipperiness of Tofu Shirataki noodles, I was confident I could tame the sometimes tricky soba.

I knew I wanted to do something with fresh ginger and garlic. No-brainer, right? That is like saying, "Gee, maybe I'll try a recipe with tomatoes and basil." Obvious, I know, but we are taking baby steps, here, people. Baby Steps. I also had a hankering for some mung bean sprouts, which are so satisfying to munch. (Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear my dad saying something like, "muncho bean sprouts." Not sure where that is coming from). Finally, I walked down to my local Whole Foods and saw some snow peas, also of the satisfying munch variety, and decided I had rounded out this recipe pretty well.

Spicy Soba Noodles

(inspired by this Bon Appetit recipe)

Makes 4 servings.

8 oz. soba noodles

1 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp fresh ginger root, peeled and minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 tbsp creamy peanut butter

1 1/2 tbsp honey

2 tbsp sesame oil

2 tbsp soy sauce

2 tbsp rice vinegar

1/2 tbsp sriracha

about 1 cup snow peas

about 1 cup mung bean sprouts

Cook soba noodles according to package, rinse with cold water until cool. Set aside. Heat olive oil in a small pan over medium heat. Add ginger and garlic and saute for about 1 minute. Transfer to a large bowl. Add peanut butter and honey and mix until melted. Whisk in next four ingredients. Add noodles and toss to coat. Add snow peas and toss again. Let the mixture cool until it reaches room temperature, tossing occasionally so that sauce evenly coats noodles. Add mung bean sprouts, toss and serve. (I would have liked to top each serving with chopped peanuts, but I didn't have any on hand).

The fresh, crunchy veggies and spicy sauce make this dinner an excellent candidate for lunch box leftovers. (Note: I originally used one whole tablespoon of sriracha, but as my boyfriend told me between sniffles and gasping breaths, that may have been too much. You may wish to go with the half tablespoon or even less. My feeling is that as long as the heat doesn't overwhelm the other ingredients, a spicy dish isn't hot enough unless I have a couple of sniffles, [clear out those sinuses!], but I always err on the side of spicy).

Coming up: a huge weekend of dining out with Mom and Dad at Art and Soul, Founding Farmers and others.

Pistachio Bundt Cake, Just Like Mom Used to Make

2009-10-02T07:16:00.010-04:00

I have to admit, I don't know the genesis of this recipe, but it is an instant favorite with everyone who tastes it - and it is so EASY! My mom started making it when I was in high school. I couldn't say whether it was a recipe from the Milton Junior Women's Club or a recipe from one of her co-workers, but it is so moist and light that everyone will want to know your secret.

Pistachio Bundt Cake Recipe

CAKE
1 box white cake mix
2 boxes instant pistachio pudding mix
4 eggs
1 cup club soda
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp almond extract
2 squirts green food coloring
1/2 cup chopped pecans

GLAZE
1 cup powdered sugar
1 tbsp softened butter
2-3 tbsp skim milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour bundt pan. In a large bowl, beat together first seven ingredients. Fold in nuts. Transfer to bundt pan. Bake for 55 minutes. Mix together 3 glaze ingredients and drizzle over warm cake.

When I was a younger I was a tom-boy (and a cynic); I assumed that women's clubs were brain-washing social institutions for stay-at-home-moms seeking to increase their numbers through assimilation and quiet judgmental-ism. More often I sought the company of nerdy males, with whom I could safely and adequately debate the finer points of Star Wars and Star Trek lore.

As a grown woman, I now realize the merits of shared wisdom and friendship that these organizations embodied. I often wish I could find a modern equivalent with friendly female gastronomes who could impart their learned kitchen customs. Until then, I'll have to make-do, pilfering tried-and-true recipes from my mother's Junior Women's Club collection.

Brunch at the Blue Duck Tavern

2009-09-28T20:31:00.004-04:00

Although the Blue Duck Tavern is not a place I am likely to visit outside of the affordable confines of Restaurant Week (yikes!), my aunt and uncle were in town helping my cousin set up her new apartment and graciously invited me to the Blue Duck for an interesting brunch.

Interesting could be the watchword for this restaurant. Walking in was like entering a scene form Stargate. I felt like I was entering the foodie temple of the Sun god. The entrance itself is a set of huge, black, double doors that a) don't look like they open, and b) have no discernible sign that they lead to the restaurant. (Leap of Faith?) Once inside, one immediately goes up and down a series of small stone steps, while sunlight floods through a wall of windows. We had seats by the kitchen, which apparently is the place to be, so one can watch the chefs as dishes are prepared and served.

If anything Anthony Bourdain writes it to be believed, having an open kitchen must be absolute hell for a chef. I was expecting a milder version of Bourdain's wild, profane kitchens or even the fast-paced world of Bill Buford, but what I got was more akin to a sedate episode of Iron Chef America. Frankly, I forgot they were there. Perhaps it is a little more exciting for dinner service, instead of a sleepy brunch, but let's be serious here, folks, we all know I was more interested in eating the food. Luckily, the food was as interesting as the ambiance.

We started with mimosas and croissants, which were excellent. The jams, cream and honey were perfect. I ordered the sour dough pancake with port poached figs and fig molasses. (!!) The tangy and gooey chunks of fig combined with the light and fruity fig molasses (oh my), balanced the denseness of the pancake, keeping it from feeling too heavy. It was a sin to leave a morsel on that plate, which was not even a plate. My giant pancake was served in an equally huge skillet. In the succinct words of my uncle: "Big? That thing is a Buick." After croissants and jams, it easily defeated me.

My one reservation about this restaurant, as I mentioned, was the price. My aunt's eggs benedict looked a little on the small side for $17. Now, I know I am not brunching at Denny's or IHOP and that the best ingredients cost a little more, but I am still going through vicarious price shock for this brunch. (Thankfully, my aunt and uncle were picking up the tab). Sure, I had a truck of a pancake, but I have to wonder if I had ordered another, smaller, dish, would I have left hungry and poor? Perhaps the added cost is a necessary offering to the Sun god. That being said, I loved my fig pancake and would be happy eating here again.

Fluffernutter Fans Unite!

2009-09-25T19:11:00.003-04:00

I absolutely, positively love the Fluffernutter. Check out this effort to make it the official sandwich of Massachusetts. If you have not tried this Northeastern delicacy, believe me, my friends, you are truly missing out. Nothing complements peanut butter like a sweet, sticky layer of Marshmallow Fluff (which is very low in calories. Bonus!). When I was a kid, my mom and grandmother used to make these babies for me, always cutting them up into triangle-shaped quarters because I was convinced they were more filling (and fun!) that way. My dad and I used to eat them together with an extra layer of grape jelly to make lunch time extra specially ridiculous.

Lately, I've been bringing Fluffernutters to work for lunch. Let me state for the record, nothing takes the edge off that 20-something-being/dressing/acting-like-a-grown-up-sucks angst like sitting on a bench, reading a book and eating a Fluffernutter.

Soups and Spaghetti Squash: Hooray Fall!

2009-09-24T20:46:00.004-04:00

Fall is easily may favorite season. (Favorite!) Not only because I love the cooler weather and changing leaves, but because it is the best season for being with family and eating some tremendous food. As part of my ongoing efforts to celebrate the beginning of Fall, I decided to indulge my wistfulness with a Italian Sausage and Tortellini Soup. Initially, I liked the recipe because it is similar to my mother's meat sauce recipe, (which will be making an appearance at some point), but in soup form. My thought was that if I made my mother's sauce, my delicate sensibilities would be completely overwhelmed with nostalgia; Thanksgiving is just too far away to start getting homesick now. My hope was that this soup would fill my current flavor needs, while allowing me to continue developing some new recipes and cooking traditions of my own.

Unfortunately, this soup only got me about halfway there. As I have repeatedly written, I am rookie in the kitchen. I couldn't make stir-fry until I was a sophomore in college, and only then under supervision. One thing I still have to learn is to trust my instincts. If I did, I might not have used the full 2 tablespoons, each, of dried basil and oregano which was called for in this recipe. As I was adding my ingredients I read the recipe four times before I could believe I was reading it correctly. I stood over my steaming pot, holding my full measuring spoon thinking: No, no. Surely not. I pulled out my mom's meat sauce recipe as a reference; Hmm. Significantly smaller amounts of herbs. I even checked the online recipe reviews, a valuable resource for identifying recipe deficiencies. Only a few reviews mentioned reducing the herbs. Really? OK. I tipped my herb-laden spoon with the rapidity of pulling off a Band-Aid and quickly stirred the herbs about, attempting to blend in what I immediately knew was a mistake Damn!

However, this experience demonstrates a very good lesson. If something in a recipe seems off, especially when it is far off from your normal relationship with your most common ingredients, chances are it is a misprint. Or, even if it is not a misprint, I know what I like. If you know you prefer fresh herbs to dried, trust yourself enough to say, "Gee, I am not wild about a mouth full of dried herbs. Maybe I should change this recipe a bit."

The soup wasn't ruined, it was generally good, but it did have a canned, processed taste. Not to dis canned soup, but the whole point of making soup at home is to have a really fresh taste. Bygones. I only have four more servings left to go. Riiight. In its defense, this recipe does have what I like to call, a lot of wiggle room. The dried herbs could easily be replaced with fresh or cut in half or even to one-third, but the ratios of broth to meat to veggies are good, so you can safely experiment with your favorite vegetables or other ingredients if zucchini isn't your thing. (But seriously, if you don't like zucchini, you should really reconsider). In the end, I managed to accomplish what I wanted; I wanted a way to harness my warm and familiar Fall flavor memories, while learning a little more about myself as a cook and, hopefully, developing a few new recipe ideas of my own.

And just because I can't bear to have my first Fall post be a bit of a fiasco, I'll leave you will a Fall favorite that is absolutely rookie-proof.

My first spaghetti squash of the season!

Coming up on the Cranberry: sadly, my cooking class this weekend was cancelled, but I will be baking the ever-popular Pistachio Cake for a friend's housewarming. Get excited.

Late Summer Corn Chowder

2009-09-18T10:00:00.002-04:00

Is it Fall yet? Whenever I pass my closet these days, I can't help eyeing my big sweaters and duck boots. The deceptively cool weather in DC has been a real tease. So what better way to invoke the spirit of Fall than a hearty corn chowder with bell peppers and potatoes? The best of both seasons, this Corn and Bell Pepper Chowder is quick, flavorful and great for a weeknight meal (and lunch box leftovers). The only improvement I might suggest would be some crumbled bacon, if you want to fatten it up a bit.

I am not sure what will be on the menu this week. I did have a sudden and intense craving for creamed pearl onions recently. AND... I have a cooking class on Fall fruit desserts coming up. Sweet!

Chorizo Cheesy Goodness

2009-09-10T23:20:00.005-04:00

So what, you my wonder, became of all that lovely chorizo? Funny you should ask. I had the sausage; I had the cheese; I had the cilantro... Perhaps I was inspired by The Arugula Files recent corn quesadillas, because quesadillas are on the menu tonight. Chorizo makes even the dullest of dishes seem delightful, doesn't it?

Ok, I have it on good authority that this might not be the most appetizing image, but let me tell you, this chorizo cheesy goodness was delicioso.

Ingredients

2 medium whole wheat tortillas
2 chorizo sausages, casings removed
1/2 red onion, chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded and diced
about a handful of fresh cilantro, chopped
4 oz. pepper jack cheese, shredded

light sour cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Sauté chunks of chorizo and onion, breaking up chorizo with the back of a spoon until both are browned and onions are soft. Add cilantro and jalapeno. Grease a large baking sheet. Place on tortilla on the baking sheet. When chorizo is cooked through (it will feel firm) spoon saute mix onto tortilla. (Try to avoid scooping too much of the sausage grease onto the tortilla. You don't need the extra fat for flavor and it will make the tortilla soggy). Top with cheese and remaining tortilla and bake until cheese it melted. Serve sliced with a dollop of sour cream.

Unintended bonus: the wheat tortilla had a subtle sweetness that complemented the spicy chorizo. Yummers.

Risk: An Afternoon of Culinary Domination

2009-09-08T19:29:00.013-04:00

OK, I am about to bring you in on a Wicked Cranberry secret. When cooking for people who are not my boyfriend or my immediate family, I am a hot mess. Unless I have made a recipe at least twice (and know where the potential pitfalls are) I won't prepare it for anyone outside my supportive circle. But this day was about Risk, and I knew I had to be bold if I wanted to conquer not only my nervous nellyism, but the hearts, minds and tummies of my opponents. Game on.

Spinach and Artichoke Dip

1 cup (light) mayonnaise
1 cup (light) sour cream
2 cups Asiago cheese, grated

1 14-oz. jar of marinated artichoke hearts, drained and finely chopped
5-6 oz. fresh baby Spinach, sautéed and chopped (or use frozen)
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1 medium loaf of sourdough
1 baguette, sliced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix together the first six ingredients in a medium bowl. Hollow out the loaf of sourdough to create a bowl. Reserve the top and insides of the bread bowl. Pour dip into bread bowl, replacing top and bake for 1 hour. Serve with baguette slices and chunks from the inside of the bowl.

I used regular mayo and sour cream, as I was serving it to a bunch of dudes, but Asiago is a strong enough flavor that you could easily sub out light mayo and sour cream and it wouldn't detract from the overall taste.

"Game on," quickly became, "Better safe than sorry." Between you, me and the lamppost, I did, in fact, purchase the ingredients for an auxiliary appetizer, Rachel Ray's Chorizo and Mushroom Queso. (In my defense, I had some extra jalapenos, red onion and cilantro, which would have dressed it up some). However, now I have a lovely bunch of Chorizo sausages for dinner some night this week, because this Artichoke dip was a huge hit. Soon enough, the boys were going at the bread bowl itself, using the hunks of bowl to scrape up any errant bits of dip. Bwha-ha-ha-ha!

After a few hours of gaming, just as my guests were lulled into a beer induced buzz, my boyfriend and I hit them with a one-two, buffalo chicken bites and pasta salad combo. Having soaked cubes of chicken breast in buttermilk and Crystal sauce overnight, my boyfriend dredged them in flour and deep fried them for about 8 minutes a batch, then doused them in butter and Crystal hot sauce. Yum. (These bites are a Fry Fest original recipe, (care of our Master Guest Chef SO) from our annual deep-frying theme party).

Sadly, the pasta salad (here), which included mozzarella, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh tomatoes and olives tasted bland to me. I even substituted some of the oil in which the sun-dried tomatoes were packed for a portion of the olive oil, but to no avail. Although I wasn't wild about it, it was a good, cool match for the hot and spicy buffalo bites. P.S. The boys seemed to enjoy it.

Finally, the pièce de résistance! Peach and Blackberry Shortcakes with Blackberry Cream. All who remained, the few, the brave, the hungry, were taken down by this dessert. I bided my time, rising early the day before to beat the berry lines at the Court House Farmers' Market. I braved the overly moist shortcake batter (too much buttermilk, ack!) which stuck to everything, abandoned my cookie cutters as useless, formed little shortcake patties in my hands and peeled, pitted and sliced 2 pounds of peaches. And it was totally worth it. Not only was this dessert fantastic, I have a little filling and blackberry puree left over. Ice cream toppings anyone?

DC Food Blogger Happy Hour - Success!

2009-09-02T23:51:00.002-04:00

Thanks so much to everyone who organized and attended the DC Food Blogger Happy Hour tonight. It was wonderful to see you all. I got to meet some of my current favorites, Mary of The Arugula Files and some new faces, Katy of Dirty Radish and Stephanie of Sassy Dining, whose blogs I am looking forward to checking out.

Any now for something completely different:

Fontina, Mushroom, Red Onion and Jalapeno Pizza, a.k.a. my supper.

Back in the Saddle

2009-09-01T19:36:00.013-04:00

You may have noticed that my blog posts have been a little thin on the ground the last few months. My apologies. Over the last few months there has been a noticable spike in the demands from the other parts of my life. I must admit that when it came to dinner, I was not above the occasional can of Beefaroni. I may even have a box or two of Spiderman Kraft Macaroni 'n' Cheese in my pantry, right now. That's right. While fresh and natural is always the best choice, sometimes, I just don't have the energy to clean, chop or saute. Sometimes I need to open a can and bless my microwave. However, several months of this kind of eating has not done good things for my health or my general living habits. Therefore, I spent the better part of a day this weekend, combing through my cookbooks and cooking magazines for some new directions.

Summer Tomato and Bell Pepper Soup. Comforting and familiar flavor combo, but ultimately gave me a wicked hankerin' for a true gazpacho.

This simple soup is ideal for those nights when you just can't bear to turn on the stove. Other than being pretty generous with the application of my goat cheese garnish, I followed fairly closely to the recipe. Usually, when I make a recipe for the first time, I follow it closely to make sure I know how it is supposed to taste, before I change it to how I want it to taste. I served the soup as a side with sirloin steaks and onion and red pepper confit.

Grilled Chicken Breasts with Honeydew Salsa

While just about everyone on the planet would prefer chicken with the skin on, I just couldn't bring myself to use anything but skinless. I love me some crispy chicken, but I still have some foodcation pounds that don't need any help sticking around.

The salsa was delicious. Because I was only cooking for myself and my boyfriend, I grilled half as much chicken, but made a full batch of salsa. (I really like sauces. A lot). This is a wonderful dinner for a hot summer night. I used a jalapeno, but doubled the amount listed in the recipe. As everyone knows, not all chiles are created equal, so it is important to test the strength and spiciness of one's chiles while cooking. For this reason, and because I like my dishes spicy, I always feel free to play with the amount of chiles I use. However, I still think this recipe could have stood a bit more heat, but overal this recipe is a good bet.

Apple Galette. A trusty standby.

Frankly, I cheated a bit. I've made this recipe many times, but I had a frozen Whole Foods pie crust taking up space in my freezer and a bunch of Granny Smiths that were this side of mealy. I had to make something out of them and a galette sprung to mind.

I love this recipe because it is so easy and versatile. I like to think of galettes as a lazy baker's pie. It doesn't have the same level of juiciness that a pie would, but it fills that need and takes a fraction of the time. I only had raspberry preserves in the fridge, hence the purple tinge. Previously, I've made it with marmalade instead of apricot preserves. (Sadly, my boyfriend does not like apricots. Weird, right?) You can really use whatever apples and jellies you have on hand. It is so easy and looks deceptively fancy with the apple slices arranged in concentric circles. Go to it!

Vacation Edition: OBX, NC

2009-08-26T08:35:00.017-04:00

Seafood Spectacular! That's right, folks, I got down with my bad, raw bar self. I also ate enough shrimp to satiate a small whale. My foodcation continued, perhaps without the same level of success as the Cape, but there were still many good eats to be had. I ate 15 oysters in one sitting! Awful Arthur's Oyster Bar had huge, fresh and flavorful oysters (and didn't skimp on the portions), but the spiced shrimp were a little, "meh," and the bartender in the upstairs lounge seemed a little inexperienced. (In Arthur's defense, I tried the spiced shrimp at Dirty Dick's Crab House, by which Arthur's suffered in comparison. More on that later).

In the lounge, I ordered a Blue Moon to nurse while we waited for a table. The bartender said they didn't have any orange slices, but would I like some orange juice? -- Do people do this? - I paused for a minute and said, "Sorry, I was confused. I thought you just offered me orange juice with my beer." To which he replied, "Yeah, I did." It was just too ridiculous, so of course I responded, "Oh, yes, I'll have some." (?!) There was a split second when I contemplated pouring the shot of orange juice, which was served in a paper, 8-ounce Dixie cup, into my beer, but opted to just carry the thing awkwardly around with me until we were seated. Am I missing something? Was I meant to sip the juice as a chaser with every drink of my beer? Please, if you know, pass that knowledge this way. Moving on...

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I was warned it might happen. The signs were there all along the way. But I couldn't help myself; I got crabs at Dirty Dick's. OK, so the real shocker here is not my little confession, it is the gift shop in the restaurant, which sells - at eye-level with small children - thong underwear, printed with pictures of sultry, well-endowed lady-shrimps with the words: "Peel me. Eat me." W-O-W. Is there anything left to say? The King crab legs were good (I'd never had them before) and the spiced (peel and eat) shrimp was very tasty, but the atmosphere was that of an ice cream parlor in hell, with a huge, blue-lit bar in the center and checkerboard tablecloths on the tables. This place really needs to decide if it is a lame, dirty joke, or a purveyor of family-friendly-fish-fare. Needless to say, it did not merit a picture. Whew.

Tortugas' Lie

Delicious! Our last night my boyfriend and I stumbled on this "local favorite." We split an order of Conch fritters, because I had never had Conch. It was a little hard to tell whether or not I like Conch, with all the friedness it was coated in, but I think I did. Sadly, I can't be any more descriptive than that. However, my entree, the Coco Loco Chicken, while also fried, was full of flavors and textures. The chicken was covered with flakes of coconut and served with an addictive lime-curry dipping sauce, freshly complementing and cooling the hearty crunch of the fried coconut. If the chicken looks a little funny in the photo, it is because, yes, I had to have a bite before I took out my camera to capture this chicken macaroon. Like many of the dishes on the menu, the chicken came with rice, black beans and salsa, which I enjoyed stirring together and covering with my remaining lime-curry sauce. Delish!

Now that I have spent a large portion of my disposable income for the summer, it is back to home cooked casseroles and cakes. Fortunately, I have finally settled my dispute with Bon Appetit and new additions will be rolling in monthly. Additionally, I have a few cooking classes in the fall, which should provide new directions, even if it is in the dessert department.

Vacation Edition: Cape Cod

2009-08-25T18:23:00.014-04:00

Whew, I have just spent two amazing weeks eating myself silly, first down the Cape, then on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The first stop on my cuisine tour of the East Coast was the Blue Moon Bistro . Growing up, this location was a superb breakfast place called the Snow Goose. The place was a staple of my young summer diet. Since the Snow Goose departed, the location has been several different things, but I sincerely hope that the Blue Moon Bistro is here to stay. I started with a cup of the Gazpacho, which was thicker than I make, but with a very satisfying hint of spiciness. For my main course I tried the Butternut Squash Ravioli, which was heavy (obviously), but I was delighted that the accompanying cream sauce was light and flavorful, balancing well with the sweetness of the caramelized onions and the packed-to-capacity ravioli. This entree is offered in a smaller version, which looking back, I should have ordered, but only because there was bread pudding on the dessert menu, which NEEDED (we have discussed this) to be tasted.

My parents both had a swordfish special, which I am sure was fresh and delish, but since my seafood intake is strictly limited to raw bars, sushi and most crustaceans, I didn't save room to try a bite. My only reservation was that the bread pudding could have been zippier, as it has a grandma's-homemade-from-what-was-in-the-pantry feel. Personally, I feel that bread pudding is such a staple, the excitement of eating it comes from combining interesting ingredients (banana, caramel, liquor, croissants) while maintaining the comfort-food appeal. All in all, a basic raisin bread pudding still hits the mark.

If you love the Cape, as I do, and are looking for something a little more interesting that the basic family-friendly-(read: fish stick)-fare, I highly recommend the Blue Moon Bistro (even though I will always miss my precious Snow Goose.

The Red Pheasant

My other notable stop was The Red Pheasant Inn, dining at which I regard as a personal, foodie victory for two reasons. One, I ordered the duck, which I have never had before. Two, the Red Pheasant has always been the parents'-night-out dinner spot, for which the kids (my brother and me) were left with a stack of VHS and a take-away pizza, while my parents wined and dined down the street. Not that I blame them. I wouldn't want to spend nearly $30 on an entree my child would merely poke at before becoming too anxious to sit still and go running under the feet of the wait-staff. Therefore, I find is doubly rewarding that my literal and figurative entrance into the adult dining world of my childhood should be greeted with a dish of which I have never partaken.

The duck(ling). There was some debate on the onset, between my father and me, as to whether or not the mouthwateringly melty layer of fat on the top of the duck should be eaten. Having never eaten duck before, I was somehow convinced that eating the fat, with the meat, was a crucial part of the duck-eating experience. Despite the fact that my father didn't agree, I followed my instincts and was back-of-the-knee-tinglingly rewarded. I was fortified by a passage I read in Bill Buford's "Heat," in which Mario Batali feeds very thin slices of pork fat to Bulford's dinner guests, while telling Bulford that at his restaurant it is served as "prosciutto bianco" so as not to upset the lardo-phobes. I usually fear an excess of fat, as it is often accompanied by grizzle (yuck!), but eating this dish whole was possibly a life altering event. I promise never again to fear the presence of fat on my plate. Cross my heart.

More to come (with pictures!): Vacation Edition: Outer Banks.

Irish Invasion

2009-03-11T07:00:00.017-04:00

The folks are coming to town this weekend and I am more than a little excited. Yesterday was a particularly craptastic day at work, so I decided to prepare for my parents' arrival and bake my bad day away with some warm treats.

For my dad, I made traditional Irish Bread. It is our family recipe and other than adding a little sugar and a lot of raisins, I am pretty sure it sticks close to the occasionally-debated "traditional" Irish Bread. In terms of food-rearing, my dad grew up in a house where my grandmother hated to cook, and always bought her potato- and pasta salads from the local deli. To further illustrate my point, my father had never tried any cheese other than American before meeting my mom. Shocking. (My mother has converted him). But Dad contributed to my young education in other ways. He is responsible for my love of the Beach Boys, Star Trek and John Wayne. Often times our conversations consist completely of movie quotes or whole scenes of dialogue. "Put zee candle beck!" And so forth.

Irish Bread

4 cups flour, sifted
1/2 tsp baking soda
4 tsp baking powder
6 tbsp sugar, with extra for sprinkling
2 tsp caraway seeds
2 cups buttermilk
1-1 1/2 cups raisins

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Mix ingredients in large bowl until well blended. Place in a greased and floured layer cake pan. Bake for 1 hour. Remove from pan and cool. Sprinkle sugar on warm bread.

For my mom I made Ambrosia Macaroons, from the December issue of Bon Appetit. My mom is just crazy for coconut. Although she taught me to appreciate food, not just as sustenance, but as an experience to be savored and enjoyed in and of itself, she also taught me how to eat a medium Brigham's ice cream cone without spilling a drop on myself (which she can do while driving) and instilled in me a deep love of ABBA. Nothing beats baking to ABBA.

I use two 14-oz. bags of flaked coconut (there can never be too much) and only about 4 oz. of chocolate, if that. If you use too much chocolate or dip the macaroons in chocolate, you'll overpower the lovely hint of orange. If you're a macaroon dipper, try another recipe. This recipe makes a ton of bite-sized, guilt-defying tasties. Pop a couple in your mouth and enjoy!

The folks and I are hitting up Fogo de Chao and D'Acqua this weekend. While I am pretty sure that nothing can top hunks of tender, red meat, mounted on spears, periodically visiting my table, D'Acqua's menu looks promising, too. We'll see.

Nerd-Culture Comes to the Kitchen

2009-03-10T19:46:00.011-04:00

I am pretty sure that if someone made me this brownie mosaic for my birthday, I would be indebted to him for life. As it is, I am wicked jealous of my friend Daley, whose friends must love him very much. All I can say is:

"Master using it and you can have this."

Dessert Before Breakfast?

2009-03-07T14:11:00.013-05:00

Saturday, I rolled out of bed around seven, which was impressive since I usually can't muster that much forward momentum until closer to eight on weekdays. Somehow I managed to get showered, dressed and down to my farmers' market around eight. Sadly, my favorite growers had not arrived or were still setting up, so I made my way down to Jasper sans delicious apple and freshly baked bread.

L'Academie de Cuisine is in Bethesda, so I had a beautiful drive up through the Palisades neighborhood. Man, those houses are gorgeous. I bet their kitchens are huge and sun-filled.

From the outside L'Acadmie looks like a corner bistro with a yellow-trimmed, many-paned bay window. Since I attended the demonstration class, we were set up in a room on the first floor, which was decorated in what I think of as a French countryside palette of soft blues, yellows, and greens, not unlike my mother's kitchen. (Sadly, like myself, my mother has felt the frustration of being constrained by the limited confines of a tiny kitchen). The three-hour class breezed by while our instructor Chef Nichole Ferrigno taught us how to candy oranges, make a flawless caramel sauce and peppered us with helpful hints about baking and entertaining. Most of the prep work and measuring had been done ahead of time by the lovely three assistants, who would have looked more at home at a church bake sale rather than in a teaching kitchen. Frankly, their feathery, white-gray hair and plump grandmotherly appearances were at odds with everything I associate with grandmothers and cooking. Instead of being culinary and cultural experts, waiting to impart generations or knowhow and can-do in the kitchen, these ladies seemed a little uneasy finishing up for our chef as she demonstrated the first few servings of any one dish. I realize my preconceived notions may be unfair and a tall order to make of all grandmothers, but it is what it is. (My grandmothers both hated to cook. Go figure).

The menu was: Mini Cheesecakes with Raspberry Sauce, Apple Spice Cakes with Maple Glaze and Candied Walnuts, Chocolate Brioche Pudding with Warm Orange Marmalade, and Warm Banana-Chocolate Wontons with Caramel Sauce.

The spice cake, I must say, was far superior to my recipe, which is a) not really mine, and b) a total disaster. I'm looking forward to making it on my own.

The cheesecake truffles weren't really doing it for me. Plain cheesecake really has to be something special to get my interested. I must prefer flavored cheesecakes, like key lime, ginger or chocolate. However, I did go to the famous Junior's once in high school. I don't know whether it was having cheesecake with my bacon and eggs that did it, but I seem to remember that experience being pretty kick-ass.

The Brioche pudding - oh my - was so delicious. I have never met a bread pudding I didn't like. It was a little denser than what I usually make, but I invariably substitute croissants for whatever bread is listed in recipes I try. And I have never made a chocolate one before.

The real winner of the day was the Banana-Chocolate Wontons, which were deep fried, covered in a cinnamon-sugar mix, dipped in caramel sauce and embarrassingly elicited a mumbled, but audible, sigh of deliciousness from me. I didn't realize that you could purchase wonton wrappers in packages that look not unlike Kraft Singles cheese slices. This recipe couldn't be easier. Slice up some bananas, bust up some chocolate, stuff it into a little crab-rangoon-looking purse and deep fry for a couple of minutes. (Fry Fest III menu addition?) I think I actually felt the back of my knees tingle on these ones, folks. Whew.

All in all, it was a great class. I'm sure I will benefit from all the little tips and hints the chef added along the way. I think I'll try a few more demonstrations before I go all-in and commit myself to an evening of potential kitchen catastrophe in front of a room full of strangers.

NYTimes: Brooklyn's New Culinary Movement

2009-03-04T19:55:00.000-05:00

Check it out: Culinary Community

I thought this article was so cool. I wonder if DC has a neighborhood like this. I love seeing people my age getting excited about food, but also about food culture. Personally, I don't really know how to cook; I know how to read recipes. If you dropped me back in time about a hundred years, I would be completely useless. I love that people are getting out, learning about where food comes from, how it is made and sharing it with other people in their communities. I'm a firm believer that food always brings people together. Maybe I should quit my job, master some culinary genre and open up a speciality shop. Meats and cheeses perhaps?

Manchego, Krispy Kreme and New Orleans

2009-03-02T08:26:00.009-05:00

I've been playing with the idea of starting a food blog, since - let's be honest here - until baseball starts, food is the only recreational activity that truly interests me. Plus, I try new restaurants, recipes and techniques all the time, so I'll be detailing all of my successes and failures.

But first, a review of my weekend exploits. Ah, New Orleans, what a fabulous gastronomical experience you are. I had a grand time. I worry that I am becoming an old lady, because Becca and I barely "went out." We ATE OUT quite a bit, but we didn't do the whole drinking-until-dawn routine of our youth. Honestly, I think both of us were ok with that. We had some very good heart-to-hearts. Despite the fact that both of us still have no idea what to do about our differing little dramas, we ended our trip feeling satisfied in our heads, hearts and tummies.

Friday night we went to a place called Mimi's in the Marigny. Mimi's is right by Becca's apartment and was recently voted best bar by the Gambit Weekly, although my friend Andy says he's not quite sold. We chose a sampling from the Hot Tapas Menu , the pinnacle of which was the Mushroom Manchego Toast. This little square of cheesy goodness was piled high with shaved mushrooms, a soft, melty layer of salty manchego and just-solid-enough piece of toast. Manchego was one of our cheeses of choice in high school, so it was fitting that it still has the power to bring Becca and me together.

The next day we went to the home of the famous Purple Truck, Boucherie. The small plates, alone, are well worth a return visit. I have to admit, that Boucherie may have been my favorite meal of the weekend. We went in for lunch and enjoyed a couple bottles of Abita Amber, which was surprisingly good, considering I have only ever had their very sweet Purple Haze. We started off with the Collard Greens and Grit Fries as well as a plate of the French Fries with Garlic Butter & Parmesan Reggiano. So good. I have to say I preferred Becca's BBQ Shrimp Po'boy to my Pulled Pork Cake, which was a little ridiculously constructed as a leaning-tower-of-pork. But the real gem at this place (which I will be attempting soon) was a Krispy Kreme bread pudding. It doesn't take much to get me excited about a bread pudding, but the super sweet hint of donut glaze in every other bite was transporting. There is something about glazed donuts that makes me feel so carefree.

While I had intended to try the fried alligator appetizer at Cochon, Becca insisted that I try the Fried Rabbit Livers. I don't think I've ever had liver, regardless of who it belongs to, but this was very good. It had a funny consistency that felt kind of like goat cheese, which weirded me out when I realized it wasn't. But I powered through and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

In other food related news, I found what is rumored to be a very fun cooking school that offers recreational classes. They do demonstration and participation classes for pretty much everything under the sun. I am going to a demonstration class (read: cheaper) this weekend on "dessert tapas" where we'll be trying bite-size delectables. I am very excited. One of my co-workers says he has bought their classes as gifts for his wife and that they are: "fun, social and involve food, " which pretty much meets my essential requirements for any kind of event. Apparently, I am going to an authentic Scottish bar this weekend as well. Mini raspberry cheesecakes to lamb haggis. Stay tuned.