Already getting dark and it's only 4:30? Yep, must be winter coming on. Snow down to 500 feet tonight, they say, but we've been disappointed before. In any case, we made the trip to Les Schwab for tire chains to get us across the Siskyous next week. There is always hope!
I made a very unfortunate decision to try a program called Farm to Fit this week, and Larry and I have been suffering the consequences. It's a local enterprise providing chef-cooked meals for a period of the customer's choosing, in my case, 5 days. I did this at the suggestion of my so-called trainer at the gym, and I should have considered the vast differences between her needs and mine before jumping. As in, she's a young, new mom, probably with only a slight acquaintance with the stove in her high-rise condo . . . Anyway, the food is fresh, local, and fits a profile of calories, again customer's choice.
The first two or three offerings were okay, and then the meals sank to dismal. We had to pick up the remainder of the pre-paid meals this afternoon, and performed triage on the kitchen counter -- which items could be frozen to await our return from California after Thanksgiving. And stared at the food we'll have to choke down tonight and tomorrow. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Jenny Craig was never this bad! I did think it would be an easy way to get through a few exceedingly busy days. But if there's a bright side, it is the pleasure with which we look forward to leaving home on Monday morning.
To that end, I'm sending out my recipe for pie crust, with the usual preamble: I used to be able to create perfect crusts that rolled out smoothly and tasted good, and then I couldn't. I suspected a change in the composition of all-purpose flour, or atmospheric disturbance, anything but flawed technique. Finally a cooking magazine came to the rescue, Cooks Magazine, to give credit where due. This magazine, and the cookbooks they churn out have an m.o. that is sort-of interesting, sort-of annoying -- they attempt to perfect a given dish, then walk the reader through all the steps, usually including a consultation with a food scientist. On this one beautiful day, pie crust was the object of their attention. And the secret ingredient is: Vodka. Really. Here's how it goes.
Foolproof Pie Dough
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 oz) all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 TBS sugar
12 TBS cold butter, cut into 1/4 inch bits
1/2 cup cold Crisco, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold Vodka
1/4 cup cold water
1. Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in processor, about two 1-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogenous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour.) Scrape bowl with spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mix is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mix into medium bowl.
2. Sprinkle Vodka and water over mix. With spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together (think Play-Doh) Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disks. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes.
Note: This easily makes enough for 3 full-size pie-plate crusts, so if making one double crust pie, I typically would make a 2/3 size recipe. However, I learned that I can freeze the disks, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, so usually do make the whole lot. Also, I have taken to making 6-7" pies for the two of us, and in that case, divide the dough accordingly and freeze 5 or 6 nice little disks.
The explanation of the magic is that the Vodka dissipates in the baking (you can't taste or get a buzz from it), but it allows enough liquid to make the dough easy to roll out and place on the plate. The result is a flaky, and yet beautiful crust. And no, my darlings, I haven't tried it with gin!
P.S. I don't know why Vodka always appears capitalized -- obviously proprietary, but I don't know what or who this Vodka may be.
Now, on to California! Sunshine! (Please)
Friday, November 18, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
SECRET INGREDIENT
Because my dad was an only child, and my mom's two siblings lived in Ohio, my sisters and I grew up with little benefit of cousins. We did have three, all girls, that we knew about, but our only connection was in the form of boxes of hand-me-down clothes. Which I, for one, cherished. No offense, Mom, but the time you made all of us dresses out of a single bolt of cloth? Does anyone hear the Sound of Music?
Then we all grew up, had children, and to our great surprise, cousin Mary Chandler moved to the Portland area with her family, moved to an acreage in the country. She was wonderfully talented, making exquisite doll houses, painting, and, here's the point of today's post, she was a great cook. From her I learned a little secret which I'll share with you now: curry powder.
How many times do you taste something you've made from a recipe which should work, but just doesn't have it. It's flat, missing something -- maybe umami, but this story comes from a pre-umami time in American history. So you start adding lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, catsup, maybe, more salt, cayenne? For me, almost anything can be improved with some white wine, thyme, lemon juice, and a dash of curry powder. Note I said a dash. The point is that it remain subliminal. It does it's best work incognito.
To prove my point, here's my favorite post-Thanksgiving dish to make with leftover turkey: Turkey Tetrazzini. Recipe from a long-lost magazine collection, I think published by McCalls. It was fine, okay, and then I discovered the curry powder, thyme, lemon juice, which make this recipe OUR recipe, not McCalls.
First, you have to have made broth from the roasted turkey carcass, which can sit on low heat all day while you start on your Christmas cards. To make the broth, you toss all the bones, gristly bits, the wings, neck, whatever you don't otherwise eat into a pot of water to cover. Add a stick of celery, leaves included, a handful of peppercorns and half an onion, if you like. You will already have packaged the lovely meat which you've carved from the bones and stored in the refrig. Eventually you strain the long-simmered broth and pick off the remaining bits of meat to be eaten out of hand, with a sprinkle of salt.
Now you're ready for the Tetrazzini: This makes quite a lot, which is a good thing.
3/4 cup butter
3/4 cup flour
salt
1/8 tsp nutmeg (this is so slight you can certainly leave it out)
1 quart milk
2 cups turkey broth
4 egg yolks
1 cup cream
1/2 sherry
a judicious amount of curry powder, lemon juice, and thyme to taste -- this is up to you.
1 pound spaghetti noodles
6 cups turkey meat
1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced, sauteed separately in a skillet with butter
8 oz. cheddar cheese, grated
Make a roux with the butter, flour, and salt. Slowly add milk and turkey broth, heat, stir until thick. Beat the egg yolks with cream just until blended. Stir some of the hot mixture into the egg/cream, stirring steadily, add more until you've tempered the eggs. Then pour the egg/cream/sauce mixture back into the remaining hot mixture and turn down the heat. Continue to stir until smooth. Now add the sherry and seasonings, tasting all the while until you get it right. You want it to be assertive because it loses strength when mixed with the spaghetti. You may even add some cayenne here, depending on your audience. Now the meat and the sauteed mushrooms go in. Check for salt.
Cook the spaghetti until done to your liking, then drain. Combine everything in a casserole. Top with shredded cheese.
Bake, uncovered at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.
The end. But wait!
You will still have lots of broth, so will probably also want to make soup. Good idea. Here's one: You just have to use however much of anything you think appropriate, but I'll give you suggestions.
Saute some mushrooms in a soup pot with butter until golden brown. Set mushrooms aside and, in same skillet, saute some chopped onion (maybe a half onion would be about right) and green pepper (again, a half) until softened. Add 2 TBS butter and 3 TBS flour. Cook roux until slightly brown. Add let's say 2 - 3 cups broth, slowly, stirring so you don't have lumps.
Separately cook 2 russet potatoes, cubed, and carrot cubes (about 1/2# cubes), and when done, add to soup. Add the mushrooms back in.
Add a handful of noodles, salt and pepper, thyme, sliced water chestnuts (fresh if you can find them -- they're amazing!)
Simmer until the noodles are done. Add more broth until you're satisfied with the ratio of liquid to solids. Because you made the broth, it probably will need a shocking amount of salt. Don't worry, if you used commercial broth it would already have the salt in it and you wouldn't know how much. JUST KEEP TASTING! This should do it, but
it wouldn't hurt to add a splash of white wine, some lemon juice and yes, a tiny skiff of curry, but not enough that you can taste it, you'll simply sense its warm presence.
That's it for left-over turkey recipes, but what's wrong with turkey sandwiches with lots of mayo, with bacon and lettuce (some restaurants serve their sandwiches with cranberry sauce and cream cheese, but I'm not a convert to that philosophy. However, there's lots of time, and you should try anything once)? Can't wait!
Then we all grew up, had children, and to our great surprise, cousin Mary Chandler moved to the Portland area with her family, moved to an acreage in the country. She was wonderfully talented, making exquisite doll houses, painting, and, here's the point of today's post, she was a great cook. From her I learned a little secret which I'll share with you now: curry powder.
How many times do you taste something you've made from a recipe which should work, but just doesn't have it. It's flat, missing something -- maybe umami, but this story comes from a pre-umami time in American history. So you start adding lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, catsup, maybe, more salt, cayenne? For me, almost anything can be improved with some white wine, thyme, lemon juice, and a dash of curry powder. Note I said a dash. The point is that it remain subliminal. It does it's best work incognito.
To prove my point, here's my favorite post-Thanksgiving dish to make with leftover turkey: Turkey Tetrazzini. Recipe from a long-lost magazine collection, I think published by McCalls. It was fine, okay, and then I discovered the curry powder, thyme, lemon juice, which make this recipe OUR recipe, not McCalls.
First, you have to have made broth from the roasted turkey carcass, which can sit on low heat all day while you start on your Christmas cards. To make the broth, you toss all the bones, gristly bits, the wings, neck, whatever you don't otherwise eat into a pot of water to cover. Add a stick of celery, leaves included, a handful of peppercorns and half an onion, if you like. You will already have packaged the lovely meat which you've carved from the bones and stored in the refrig. Eventually you strain the long-simmered broth and pick off the remaining bits of meat to be eaten out of hand, with a sprinkle of salt.
Now you're ready for the Tetrazzini: This makes quite a lot, which is a good thing.
3/4 cup butter
3/4 cup flour
salt
1/8 tsp nutmeg (this is so slight you can certainly leave it out)
1 quart milk
2 cups turkey broth
4 egg yolks
1 cup cream
1/2 sherry
a judicious amount of curry powder, lemon juice, and thyme to taste -- this is up to you.
1 pound spaghetti noodles
6 cups turkey meat
1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced, sauteed separately in a skillet with butter
8 oz. cheddar cheese, grated
Make a roux with the butter, flour, and salt. Slowly add milk and turkey broth, heat, stir until thick. Beat the egg yolks with cream just until blended. Stir some of the hot mixture into the egg/cream, stirring steadily, add more until you've tempered the eggs. Then pour the egg/cream/sauce mixture back into the remaining hot mixture and turn down the heat. Continue to stir until smooth. Now add the sherry and seasonings, tasting all the while until you get it right. You want it to be assertive because it loses strength when mixed with the spaghetti. You may even add some cayenne here, depending on your audience. Now the meat and the sauteed mushrooms go in. Check for salt.
Cook the spaghetti until done to your liking, then drain. Combine everything in a casserole. Top with shredded cheese.
Bake, uncovered at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.
The end. But wait!
You will still have lots of broth, so will probably also want to make soup. Good idea. Here's one: You just have to use however much of anything you think appropriate, but I'll give you suggestions.
Saute some mushrooms in a soup pot with butter until golden brown. Set mushrooms aside and, in same skillet, saute some chopped onion (maybe a half onion would be about right) and green pepper (again, a half) until softened. Add 2 TBS butter and 3 TBS flour. Cook roux until slightly brown. Add let's say 2 - 3 cups broth, slowly, stirring so you don't have lumps.
Separately cook 2 russet potatoes, cubed, and carrot cubes (about 1/2# cubes), and when done, add to soup. Add the mushrooms back in.
Add a handful of noodles, salt and pepper, thyme, sliced water chestnuts (fresh if you can find them -- they're amazing!)
Simmer until the noodles are done. Add more broth until you're satisfied with the ratio of liquid to solids. Because you made the broth, it probably will need a shocking amount of salt. Don't worry, if you used commercial broth it would already have the salt in it and you wouldn't know how much. JUST KEEP TASTING! This should do it, but
it wouldn't hurt to add a splash of white wine, some lemon juice and yes, a tiny skiff of curry, but not enough that you can taste it, you'll simply sense its warm presence.
That's it for left-over turkey recipes, but what's wrong with turkey sandwiches with lots of mayo, with bacon and lettuce (some restaurants serve their sandwiches with cranberry sauce and cream cheese, but I'm not a convert to that philosophy. However, there's lots of time, and you should try anything once)? Can't wait!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
TIME
Time's been playing tricks on us this last week. We slept an hour late, toured the house, turning the clocks back, had coffee, read the paper before we noticed anything unusual. Our phones hadn't turned back automatically. Not to worry, Larry knew how to do it manually. And so life proceeded. I walked up to 23rd for my 2:00 haircut, but arrived there at 3:00. What? Missed my appointment. Only then did the light's go on. Not Halloween weekend this year, daylight saving's time would continue until the following weekend. Feeling quite silly, I walked back home, shaggy hair and all.
But's it's always Halloween weekend, Larry protested, as he had been the leader in this affair. Okay. We set the clocks forward again, realizing that the mistake would at least afford us another hour sleep-in the following Sunday. Silver lining.
On Thursday, L had a 7 o'clock breakfast meeting at the Art Museum. Not wishing to be late, he set his internal alarm, rarely known to fail (all those earlier years of catching planes to Detroit, N.Y.), and fell asleep. At about 1:00, I woke to strange noises in the closet. Hmm. No Larry beside me, so I got up to investigate. "What are you doing?" I asked the wild-eyed man in his dress shirt and underwear, struggling to tie his necktie.
"I have to be downtown in 7 minutes!" he said.
"Larry, it's one o'clock in the morning."
I really really tried hard not to laugh, had to smother the giggles in my pillow as he flopped back down beside me. "Couldn't see the damn clock," he said. Then I did lose it, but he didn't join me in thinking this was so funny.
The next morning I told him that he might just keep his cell phone on his bedside table. Want to see the time, just click the button and there is is, all lit up and large print. Good idea, which he proceeded to follow the next night, as he had a golf game in the morning. Worked like a charm, except he forgot to take the phone with him on the way to the course. So Robb was unable to advise him that the course had posted a three-hour frost delay.
And here we are, staring at the approach of Thanksgiving. Time.
Time for cranberries. I have two recipes today, a traditional and an experimental. Tradition first: This has been the family cranberry sauce for years now. I don't remember where I came across it, so the author will have to remain unknown.
Cranberry-Lime Chutney
2 cups fresh cranberries (ALWAYS pick over cranberries before using)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 large orange, peeled, cut into 1/4 inch slices
1 TBS grated lime zest
3 TBS fresh orange juice
1 medium tart apple, pared, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup water
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/8 tsp. each ginger, dry mustard, allspice
Stir all ingredients into a non-corrodible pan. Heat to boiling, simmer 45 minutes.
Note: I usually use the spices more generously than suggested -- depends on how long they've been sitting in the spice drawer.
That's it, Happy Thanksgiving.
The second recipe comes from a favorite cookbook: COLD WEATHER COOKING, by Sarah Leah Chase. It's called Nantucket Cranberry Relish, (and this cookbook is worth trying to find -- probably at the used-book sale at the library, but maybe on Amazon.)
An aside: I have a quarrel with cookbook indexes. This recipe is listed under "N" for Nantucket, and yes, that's it's name, but who remembers that? Please, authors, file such recipes under "C" for cranberry! Please!
Okay, I'm a little obsessed with this one, still trying to make it work, so maybe you can figure it out. I'll offer you the "as-is" formula, then discuss the problems I have with it. Why bother? I love it so much I can't walk past the refrigerator without helping myself to a spoon-ful. Here goes:
1 1/2 pounds fresh cranberries
1 lime
1 tangerine
3/4 cup light brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
scant pinch of ground cloves
3 TBS orange liqueur
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
1. Process cranberries until coarsely chopped. Transfer to mixing bowl
2. Cut lime and tangerine, peel and all, into 1/2 inch pieces. Remove any seeds and process until fruit is finely chopped. Add to cranberries.
3. Add sugars, liqueur and cloves, stir to combine. Taste for sweetness and adjust if it seems too tart. Fold in pine nuts and allow to mellow in refrigerator over night.
First, I'm not fond of pine nuts, so always leave them out. Personal preference here, do what you like.
The trouble starts with step two. At the first attempt, the processor make mush of the fruit while steadfastly refusing to mince the peel. Second attempt, I sliced off the peel and minced it with a knife, which was fine, though a lot of work. But the processor still turned the fruit to mush. Third attempt, I grated the peel, then peeled the fruit and chopped it by hand. This seems the best procedure so far. This last time, I tried to persuade the processor to mince the peel alone, without the fruit, but this failed, so I removed the chunks and finished the job by hand. Back to Attempt # 3, which I now advise.
Next, sugar content: I'm trying to wean myself from my sugar addiction, so sweetened the mix with a combination of coconut sugar and coconut syrup, both of which are supposed to be very low-glycemic, and a final couple of tablespoons of Turbinado raw cane sugar. Agave syrup would work as well. These sweeteners are available at Whole Foods. You have to just keep tasting to get the correct amount, but it worked perfectly. Can't tell the difference, so if you're also cutting down on sugar, go for it.
The sun is shining, we are safely observing Pacific Standard Time, so all is well. Time to get into the kitchen to make broccoli salad for lunch.
But's it's always Halloween weekend, Larry protested, as he had been the leader in this affair. Okay. We set the clocks forward again, realizing that the mistake would at least afford us another hour sleep-in the following Sunday. Silver lining.
On Thursday, L had a 7 o'clock breakfast meeting at the Art Museum. Not wishing to be late, he set his internal alarm, rarely known to fail (all those earlier years of catching planes to Detroit, N.Y.), and fell asleep. At about 1:00, I woke to strange noises in the closet. Hmm. No Larry beside me, so I got up to investigate. "What are you doing?" I asked the wild-eyed man in his dress shirt and underwear, struggling to tie his necktie.
"I have to be downtown in 7 minutes!" he said.
"Larry, it's one o'clock in the morning."
I really really tried hard not to laugh, had to smother the giggles in my pillow as he flopped back down beside me. "Couldn't see the damn clock," he said. Then I did lose it, but he didn't join me in thinking this was so funny.
The next morning I told him that he might just keep his cell phone on his bedside table. Want to see the time, just click the button and there is is, all lit up and large print. Good idea, which he proceeded to follow the next night, as he had a golf game in the morning. Worked like a charm, except he forgot to take the phone with him on the way to the course. So Robb was unable to advise him that the course had posted a three-hour frost delay.
And here we are, staring at the approach of Thanksgiving. Time.
Time for cranberries. I have two recipes today, a traditional and an experimental. Tradition first: This has been the family cranberry sauce for years now. I don't remember where I came across it, so the author will have to remain unknown.
Cranberry-Lime Chutney
2 cups fresh cranberries (ALWAYS pick over cranberries before using)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 large orange, peeled, cut into 1/4 inch slices
1 TBS grated lime zest
3 TBS fresh orange juice
1 medium tart apple, pared, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup water
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/8 tsp. each ginger, dry mustard, allspice
Stir all ingredients into a non-corrodible pan. Heat to boiling, simmer 45 minutes.
Note: I usually use the spices more generously than suggested -- depends on how long they've been sitting in the spice drawer.
That's it, Happy Thanksgiving.
The second recipe comes from a favorite cookbook: COLD WEATHER COOKING, by Sarah Leah Chase. It's called Nantucket Cranberry Relish, (and this cookbook is worth trying to find -- probably at the used-book sale at the library, but maybe on Amazon.)
An aside: I have a quarrel with cookbook indexes. This recipe is listed under "N" for Nantucket, and yes, that's it's name, but who remembers that? Please, authors, file such recipes under "C" for cranberry! Please!
Okay, I'm a little obsessed with this one, still trying to make it work, so maybe you can figure it out. I'll offer you the "as-is" formula, then discuss the problems I have with it. Why bother? I love it so much I can't walk past the refrigerator without helping myself to a spoon-ful. Here goes:
1 1/2 pounds fresh cranberries
1 lime
1 tangerine
3/4 cup light brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
scant pinch of ground cloves
3 TBS orange liqueur
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
1. Process cranberries until coarsely chopped. Transfer to mixing bowl
2. Cut lime and tangerine, peel and all, into 1/2 inch pieces. Remove any seeds and process until fruit is finely chopped. Add to cranberries.
3. Add sugars, liqueur and cloves, stir to combine. Taste for sweetness and adjust if it seems too tart. Fold in pine nuts and allow to mellow in refrigerator over night.
First, I'm not fond of pine nuts, so always leave them out. Personal preference here, do what you like.
The trouble starts with step two. At the first attempt, the processor make mush of the fruit while steadfastly refusing to mince the peel. Second attempt, I sliced off the peel and minced it with a knife, which was fine, though a lot of work. But the processor still turned the fruit to mush. Third attempt, I grated the peel, then peeled the fruit and chopped it by hand. This seems the best procedure so far. This last time, I tried to persuade the processor to mince the peel alone, without the fruit, but this failed, so I removed the chunks and finished the job by hand. Back to Attempt # 3, which I now advise.
Next, sugar content: I'm trying to wean myself from my sugar addiction, so sweetened the mix with a combination of coconut sugar and coconut syrup, both of which are supposed to be very low-glycemic, and a final couple of tablespoons of Turbinado raw cane sugar. Agave syrup would work as well. These sweeteners are available at Whole Foods. You have to just keep tasting to get the correct amount, but it worked perfectly. Can't tell the difference, so if you're also cutting down on sugar, go for it.
The sun is shining, we are safely observing Pacific Standard Time, so all is well. Time to get into the kitchen to make broccoli salad for lunch.
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