The Agony and the Ecstasy

So I've spent some eventful albeit repetitive days in the kitchen recently. Make coffee, make dinner. Decide which coffee to drink, decide which page of Everyday Food to use. Is it the dark and deliciously roasted Stumptown beans from Brooklyn thank you Ans, or is it the Orange Cappuccino flavored beans from Wegman's? Is it p. 75 or p. 77? Today it was Stumptown and tonight it will be page 75, Zucchini Pasta with Ricotta. Of course, these decisions will not always be before me. Soon I will run out of these precious coffees and soon I will work my way through the magazine. And then I will slowly move on.

There are the moments in between, of course. Like, today at the market,


I bought a six pound bag of ground dark turkey meat for $12. And last night I ate a can of Beefaroni. I popped the lid, emptied it into a bowl, stuck it in the microwave and then I ate it. I'm pretty embarrassed about that one. And I'm sure my readership will fall off sharply after this post. But, in my defense, I was on my own for dinner, I was really hungry and I was in a hurry. The can was intended for my nephew, not that he has ever eaten a can of it or expressed an interest in it, but I had thrown in in the cart just in case. I'm still surprised at myself. It wasn't all that gross and the nutritional content isn't as horrifying as you might think. But still. I've got to come back strong from that one.

Herbs!

The herbs are in the ground! After visiting two different garden centers and one hardware store that was closed (on Saturday?), we returned not with a large galvanized bucket big enough to serve as a planter, but a coconut italian ice from Rita's and a wooden-handled trowel. I was pretty set on having an herb bucket, but settled on a corner of our backyard that showed signs of ancient plant life. All that remained were two ill-positioned lifeless looking plants with long grass-like leaves of no vibrant color. But, we tilled the ground, spread some fresh soil, and left the moppish plants to serve as herb dividers, in case the mint and sage flourish as people have lead me to hope.





They look promising, don't they?

By the way, have you bought April's Everyday Food yet?

We are working on Beef and Tomato Stew (p. 84) at present.

Homage to Tupelo and Hybrid Fruits

Hello! It’s been way too long since I have last posted. And while I feel like an apology for the lag is a little presumptuous at this point, I want to at least acknowledge it and have you know that I carried around sufficient guilt for the recent pause. In the future I will do my best not to be deterred by swaying buses or turbulent flight patterns.

Anyway, I arrived in Boston's South Station Wednesday night and walked as fast as my Sanitas would carry me on to the Red Line to Central Square and down Prospect Street to Tupelo in Inman Square. The hurry to this restaurant was not only to see my sister, but also to make it there before the kitchen closed. Lucky for me, I made it in time to have the best Moules Frites ever. The mussels were plump and piping hot sitting in a white wine broth with fries piled high and some amazing aioli sauce drizzled over it all. For those of you that find this information of no use because you either do not eat shellfish and/or do not live close enough to said restaurant to go there this very evening and try them for yourself, please forgive the indulgence and read on.

Because I need to tell you to go out and get the April issue of Everyday Food by Martha Stewart. So far I can give the Red Rice with Sausage and Peppers two thumbs up. And while I find the Bites section –tips, information, and news, from our kitchen to yours- a little annoying, I’m happy to skip those pages because it has a lot of things in it I want to try. I just wish I knew how many times they have informed their readers that buying a whole chicken is more cost effective than buying boneless chicken breasts.

Also, have you discovered the power of mineolas yet? It is a hybrid between a grapefruit and a tangerine and whoever first crossed these two fruits deserves a blue ribbon. I hope it was a farmer and not a lab tech. One day I will find out, but in the meantime their juicy, tangy flavor remains untarnished.

Here they are with strawberry friends waiting to be dipped in chocolate.



The chocolate sauce comes from Barefoot Contessa’s Back to Basics, although I tweaked it:
7oz semisweet chocolate chips
6 tablespoons of half and half
2 tablespoons of light corn syrup
1 teaspoon mineola zest (optional)
½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Heat the half and half (or heavy cream) over a very low flame, or double boiler if you wish. Add the chocolate and stir until it melts. Just lift the saucepan from the heat if you are worried about it burning. Add the corn syrup and the zest. Stir until combined and transfer to a ramekin.

Pizza Pizza

Last I left you with scone delivery pending. They were indeed delivered; twelve of them piled high though looking smaller than I hoped. While I waited nervously to hand off my plate to the owner, I noticed that some of the competing scones were no longer suffocating under plastic wrap but had been unwrapped and placed in an attractive glass cake stand. I can’t help but think that this scone movement was inspired by my inquiries of several days ago. And though this pleased me, it may end up hurting my chances of become their next scone artisan.

“Do you have a price sheet?” the owner asked me just as I was leaving. The correct answer was: No, I did not. The given answer was, “ Yes, I will email it to you.” And so a price sheet was made on Saturday evening, other scone and biscotti varieties were decided upon, our “bakery” was given a name and we began to hunt around for information on the permits needed to certify our kitchen.

And with the fate of the scones out my hands, it was on to Wegman's grocery store, returning with a two pound bag of mussels for five dollars, which we ate for dinner, followed by a chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

We pulled the recipe for the mussels from JC's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Score! And the chocolate cake recipe came from the Hubbs' kitchen in Cambridge, MA by way of the Hershey's Cocoa Powder box. J. Hubbs uses Ghiradelli cocoa powder instead of the Hershey's, and his finished product is incredible. Mine was not incredible because when halving the recipe, I added the full cup of milk instead of half a cup. But if you are baking a cake for more than two people and you do not halve the recipe it really is a wonderful chocolate cake.

I'll post that recipe when I get back. Get back from Florida. Beautiful Orlando is where I write you from. Last night we ate at Le Rain Forest Cafe, (located in 'Downtown Disney') or "RFC" as embroidered on their sweatpants and flip flops and mugs and choker necklaces.

Tonight it is Little Caesar's Pizza.

Scone Angst

Ever since the scone incident, I have been very preoccupied in the kitchen -thinking of scones, wondering why all of the sudden I am not in the mood to make scones, and other sconey thoughts. But this is what happens right? You make a half-way commitment and then you lose motivation for executing your once romantic notion of becoming a baker-on-the-side.

But, I have a job to do, I told myself when I didn't have several key scone ingredients, which meant a trip to Giant on this rainy morning. I could be one of those uncommitted scone-lovers who do not follow through on their unprompted offer to make a batch of scones for their local coffee shop. Or, I can just make a batch. Simple enough. So that is what I did.

And here they are pre-icing:





Here they are post-icing:





Here is the link to the Orange-Cranberry Scones recipe I used, in case you have a similarly perplexing coffee shop nearby. I'm dropping a dozen off this afternoon and I will let you know how it goes!

And just in case you were worried that this blog is going to be consumed by scones from here on out, I'll tell you that we made a great batch of pancakes last night for dinner. I know, still on the breakfast theme, but it was the best I could come up with given the circumstances and with skillful pancake flipping (not my own) they were excellent. On the side: cantaloupe sprinkled with salt.

Oatmeal Cinnamon Pancakes from a back-issue of Everyday Foods:

2 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled)
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
2 cups milk
2 large eggs
1/4 cup vegetable oil, plus more for skillet

1. In a food processor, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and 1 cup oats and pulse a few times to coarsely grind oats. In a large bowl whisk together milk, eggs, and oil. Add dry ingredients and 1 cup oats and whisk just until moistened.

2. Heat a large skillet (non-stick or cast-iron) or griddle over medium. Lightly oil skillet. We found the oil unnecessary on our non-stick pan. Using 2 to 3 tablespoons, or 1/4 cup measuring spoon, for each pancake, drop batter in skillet and cook until a few bubbles have burst, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip pancakes and cook until browned on undersides, 1 to 2 minutes more. Repeat. Sorry to bore you will pancake know-how.

3. After eating our fill, we let the rest cool and put them in a freezer, first on a baking sheet and then in a zip lock. Hopefully we can remember they are there.

Scone Dilemma

To satisfy a growing curiosity, I stopped into a coffee shop today to inquire about the origins of the scones they have on display. I say "on display" because they appear to be props. Okay, sorry. I will try to leave exaggeration out of this because we have a very serious matter on our hands. They may not be props, but they are clearly an afterthought. To be fair, their first thought, their baby, their true love is coffee. It's quality. They roast it on site and they have interesting, complicated, upscale coffee drinks to choose from. I haven't ordered one, but they look legit, and they take a really long time to make. What I am trying to say in too many words is that they have a lot going for them. And a cup of coffee is the perfect place to start. To start. You can't stop there unless you have not a baked good in sight.

But they lots of baked goods in sight. The scones. Oh, the scones. It's painful. I'm sure you've seen similar products in your travels. Maybe at a rest stop or 7-eleven? The uniform triangularity, the small precise squiggle of icing on top, the saran wrap. On my first couple of trips in there I wanted to believe they made them on location. If they have a coffee roaster in the back, surely they have someone to throw some dough in the oven. Maybe he or she has a compulsion to make every single scone look exactly the same. It's possible.

I even bought one. And I won't claim that right then and there I knew that they had been shipped in from somewhere far away. It was fine. It was dry, hard, I didn't finish it, but it was fine. And that was in the early morning.

Today was my day to find out the truth. Hoping for the best, I walked up to the counter and asked the cashier where they got their scones. He didn't know but went to the back to pick up the order sheet. He came back and read me the name of a generic-sounding company. I asked if it was a local company and he thought they come from Philadelphia. Philadelphia is approximately 80 miles away. I asked (politely) if there was a manager available. He went to the back again and came back with the actual owner. A good sign and we had a very nice chat.

He told me about the frozen scones they order in bulk about once or twice a month and then thaw before serving, I mean displaying. And then I heard myself tell him about the orange-cranberry scones I make, and the white-chocolate-cranberry scones I have made before and I even heard myself talking about the biscotti that I have made in the past, maybe four times in my life.

He told me that they are shopping around for a new scone supplier and that I should bring some by next time I make a batch. He gave me his card and I said okay. Shoot.

To be continued. Maybe.

Wardrobe Change

I'm stalling. My vision for soup last week carried me through Thursday. Decent run, although I still have an unopened bag of split peas that did not get cooked. The longer I wait and the closer spring gets, the more likely it is that the bag will get pushed to the back of the cabinet or moved to the freezer to be turned into an ice pack. Weak ending to such inspiration. Strawberry tyranny to be blamed.

But nevermind last week, it is the current week that troubles me. No vision, no strawberries, just three lonely potatoes. And it's too beautiful outside to be inspired by potatoes.

It is one of the awkward days when winter isn't officially over and spring is trying to convince you that it has arrived. But I never trust those first days of sun and so they always catch me unprepared and way over-dressed. It seems I'm always the last person to finally stop wearing wool and I constantly find myself in my heaviest and dreariest shoes on those days when flip flops are optimal.

I wasn't prepared for the same quandary to find me in the kitchen. But on this sun-shiny day I'm boiling potatoes and they are not for potato salad. I don't want to run to the store to liven up my refrigerator, so I'm going to cook according to the calendar date and not according to the temperature outside. A moment of principles! I have some spinach to saute and sprinkle with feta cheese. Not too bad. And to those potatoes I'm going to add some diced prosciutto and some sauteed onions. The Wednesday Chef's Austrian Potato Strudel reminded me of my hiding potatoes, though I'm neither buying or making strudel dough today. More With Less has a recipe for a potato casserole that I am going to pull from as well.

In the meantime here is the cup of tea I enjoyed this afternoon. It is fully responsible for today's entry.

Pie is the Thing

Who needs to worry about dinner when they have a big slice of strawberry pie coming to them.

Strawberries Are In Season Somewhere

There are a lot of things to say about soup. Last night we made another winner: Giada De Laurentiis' Hearty Tomato Soup with Lemon and Rosemary. But on this cold and dreary day, I'm lacking in adjectives and enthusiasm and my commentary is as interesting as a letter home from summer camp: "The soup was good. It was really fun to make. You should try it. The rosemary was great. The lemon was great too."

To save us both from more uninspiring remarks, I will change the subject and give you words of hope. Strawberries are in season somewhere. (Thank you sister for the tip.) Even though this third day in March could be mistaken for the third day in any of the past three months, somewhere there is green. Somewhere in Plant City, Florida people are strawberry picking. And, these strawberries have made it all the way to my grocery store, Giant. They are even on sale.

Here is proof:



Right now they are in the oven being turned into a strawberry pie. When I told my husband I was making a strawberry pie he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to add the word rhubarb. But no, it is going to be a straight-up strawberry pie. I'm hoping it is like a strawberry tart, but in a pie pan. I'm really hoping it tastes like this amazing brown-sugared strawberry fruit square I had at The Biscuit in Somverville, MA. I added a brown sugar and butter crumble topping at the last minute upon remembering the experience.

I used Mark Bittman's recipe for berry pies in How To Cook Everything, but I ended up simplifying it a good deal.

Update: The pie turned out really well. Sweet and tart. I almost missed the rhubarb, but after a couple more bites enjoyed the simplicity of the berry on its own.

Strawberry Pie:

For the filling:
5 cups or 2 pound (by weight) container of strawberries hulled and halved.
2 tablespoons of sugar
3 tablespoons of cornstarch

Crust:
1 1/8 all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 stick of butter, cold, unsalted and cut into about 8 pieces.
3 tablespoons of ice water

Combine dry ingredients in food processor. Pulse for a moment. Add butter slices and process until flour and butter are blended (about 10 seconds). It will look like cornmeal.

Place the mixture in a bowl and then sprinkle 3 tablespoons of water. Add another 1/2 tablespoon if it looks dry. I ended up using that extra 1/2 tablespoon. Flatten dough into a small disc. Wrap in plastic and chill. Just roll out when you are ready to make your crust.

Once crust is rolled out. Place filling into pie dish. Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes and then reduce the heat to 375 degrees and cook for another 45 minutes. Definitely let it sit out a while, and it will firm up nicely.

Loose Ends

I have several slightly tedious but important updates for you today. First, back to the Pilgrim's Progress Bread -it was amazing. Amazing in the sense that I am still shocked at how well it came out. So well, in fact, that it would tempt the most devout pilgrim to remain in Vanity Fair. I'm not sure why it was so good. It could have been the switch from McArthur's All-Purpose Flour to McArthur's Bread Flour. It could have been me kneading the dough by hand instead of using the Kitchen Aid's mechanical arm. Or it could have simply been the recipe. I can't say for sure, but it was the best loaf of bread we've made yet. As advertised it was "a light bread with a lovely blend of flavors".

Here's another shot, this time sliced:



Before I give you the recipe for bread, I want to tell you quickly about the additions we made to Peter Berley's Leek Soup with Peas and Sauerkraut from The Wednesday Chef's blog. Just as she said, the soup was a wonderful surprise. Adding a fennel bulb, a small head of bok choy cabbage, both chopped, and two more cups of chicken broth to stretch it for more hearty portions was an even nicer surprise. After sitting in refrigerated broth for close to 24 hours the peas, though still nice, had lost their luster and their tiny pop. The bright green skin had faded to a shade of army fatigue and the leeks were barely noticeable. So in went the fennel and the cabbage and the soup was revived.

It doesn't really look revived in this picture, but it was.



Here's the recipe for the Pilgrim's Bread:

Combine in a bowl:
1/2 cup yellow cornmeal
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon salt

Stir gradually into:
2 cups boiling water

Add:
1/4 cup oil

Cool to lukewarm.
Dissolve:
2 pkg. or 2 tablespoon dry yeast in
1/2 cup warm water

Add yeast to cornmeal mixture.
Beat in:
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup rye flour

By hand stir in:
4 1/4 - 4 1/2 cups of unbleached white flour

Turn onto lightly floured surface. Knead until smooth and elastic. Place in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to grease surface. Cover and let rise in warm place until double. Punch dough down; turn out onto lightly floured surface. Divide in half and knead a second time for 3 minutes. Shape dough into 2 loaves and place in greased pans. Cover and let rise again in warm place until double in bulk. Bake at 375 degrees about 45 minutes. (My bake time was 38 minutes.)

If like me you only have one bread pan, More With Less instructs you to place the remaining portion of dough (before the second kneading process) in a greased bowl covered with a damp cloth. Store in refrigerator up to 3 days. Punch down as necessary.

enter camera

I've started posting pictures. I'm not sure what this blog will turn out to be, other than a blog, but after clicking on countless food blogs complete with a link to Amazon to view their recently published book, pictures seem to be a must. I'm a little hesitant to bring my camera into the kitchen. Good pictures mean good natural light which I do not have. Okay, I have some and if I can take all pictures by noon, I'm set. But, I foresee that time-line to be challenging. Once the afternoon begins to wane, I have to rely on florescent lights stuck underneath the upper cabinets that flicker several times before they settle into a hummed glow.

Kitchen pictures are also enhanced by nice countertops. Soapstone, granite, Corian -any of these would do. I think we have a laminated plastic. And lately, I've been using a collection of plastic, nonskid mixing bowls, instead of beautiful, heavy ceramic ones, or cool vintage Pyrex.

I do not file these as complaints. They are simply reasons not to bring a camera into the kitchen. But I have to give "the people" what they want. And they want pictures, don't they?

I'll ensure you don't see any of those unsightly things I mentioned above. Instead I will strategically place items I like in the background. Like my bread box, my dutch oven, or my Vietri canisters. Instead of seeing a picture of my rising dough, maybe I will give you a picture of the rising dough, in a bowl that is covered by my favorite dish towel.

And really, when you have gorgeous leeks with their lime greens and whites and curly cues, maybe natural lighting, and beautiful counter tops don't matter (as much).