Thursday, December 10, 2009

Try This Challenge: Frige Frenzy

We're wrapping up the semester here at Hofstra - classes ended Wednesday, and exams start Monday, or have already started, for those with proactive professors. My roommates and I are preparing to go our separate ways until late January, and that means... someone has to clean out the refrigerator. Jane tackled the yucky part over the weekend, tossing everythign rancid, moldy, and stinky. (I find we have a tendency to find cheese and forget about it. I almost cried when I tossed that delicious French feta from Highland Farms.)

Tonight, we moved on to the stuff that was still good. Last night at dinner we picked up some fixings from the salad bar - spinach, artichoke heart, red peppers, onions - and Jane turned them into amazing omlettes with the eggs and grated asiago we had waiting in the fridge. Every bite was unique, but amazing, and I'm thinking about all the wonderful things that mix of flavors could be, like bite-sized frittata appetizers if made in mini-muffin tins.

One of the things lurking in the bottom of our frige, which doesn't have a freezer but sometimes freezes things anyway, were the Eternal Plums. I bought plums many, many weeks ago - I think right before Halloween - that never got eaten, but never went bad. They weren't frozen, but I think the cold at the bottom of the frige put them in a kind of fruit stasis. We also still have an open box of pancake mix we took home after Iron Chef, so naturally... we made crepes. I'll be honest, I'm trying to lose some weight right now but I feel like this dessert, which isn't bad in moderation, is worth every calorie. Speaking of calories, new feature! Every recipe will now include nutritional information at the end. (Let me know if you like this, or if you don't want to know.)

Crepes with Plum Compote and Nutella

2 c. water
2 c. sugar in the raw
3 plums, pitted and diced (roughly 2 cups)
1 c. pancake mix
1 c. milk
1 large egg
Butter or cooking spray

In a large pot, dissolve as much sugar as possible into water. Heat over low, stirring frequently, until remaining sugar dissolves. Add plums, and barely simmer, stirring frequently, until fruit is cooked and syrup is dark and thick. For us, this took about 40 minutes. The test is that if you put a bit of syrup on a plate, let it cool slightly, and tip the plate sideways, the syrup should drip very slowly. This was so simple, but delicious, and we saved some for breakfast tomorrow. If I were to make it again, I would add cinnamon. Cinnamon enhances sweetness but does basically nothing to the nutritional content of food.

For the crepes, beat the pancake mix, milk, and egg util uniform. The batter should be slightly thinner than regular pancake batter. Put a pan over medium heat and, once warmed, lightly coat with butter or cooking spray. Pour 1-2 tablespoons of batter into the center of a pan, and use a spatula to gently spread the uncooked batter off the edges, making the crepe thin and wide. Flip, cook on the other side, and remove to a plate. Like pancakes, a crepe will "release" when the down side is done cooking, but too much prodding will make the more delicate crepe fall apart. The edges and top of the crepe should "dry" slightly, and no longer have the same shine that uncooked batter does. If you can easily get your spatula under the crepe, it's ready to flip. If you have to do too much wiggling, give it a few more seconds.

Once you have your finished compote and your empty crepes, spoon 2 tablespoons of plum compote and a half tablespoon of nutella (if you so choose) into your crepe. Roll it up and enjoy, because these puppies are delicious.

One plum and nutella crepe, as described above is 140 calories: 26 g. carbs, 4 g. fat, 2 g. protein.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Try This Challenge: Iron Dorm Chef

Sometimes, I really love college. Tonight was one of those times. Almost every Tuesday the RAs have some kind of program and I couldn't resist tonight's program - Iron Chef. There was a table covered in possible ingredients, including things like pre-cooked pasta and chicken to help everyone meet the 35-minute time limit. The secret ingredient: corn.

I have never had so much fun improvising before. My roommates were in a separate group, and I was paired with three strangers. (They were good sous chefs, though, just in case anyone who knows them is reading this.) When the secret ingredient was announced there was a mad dash for the ingredients table and I grabbed an apple and a can of whole kernel corn, thinking, "I can make something with this, right?"

One of my teammates started dicing the apple, another opened and drained the corn, and I started beating an egg. I added a splash of milk, a tiny bit of vanilla extract, and asked my third teammate to grab the box of cake mix. Extra points for anyone who has already guessed what I was making, just from this partial list of ingredients: Apple-corn fritters. After a few false starts I got them to fry up beautifully, these little buttery, battery mini-pancakes studded with sweet bits of apple and corn. For added sweetness I also included a sprinkling of demeraro sugar, and some whole wheat flour to thicken the batter further when the first fritters fell apart. And remember, kids - when frying, use an oil with a high smoke point, like canola or peanut. This is the one place where olive oil and butter are not your friends.

It was an exercise in applied theory, because I had never actually made a fritter before, but I plated the nicest three and my teammates worked on presentation while I figured "Why the heck not?" and fried up the rest of the batter.

My roommates put together an impressive feast: caramelized onions and red pepper with cumin in improvised tortilla-crepes, fajita style. (The wrappings were made with a combination of pancake batter and creamed corn.) For desert they had chocolate popcorn balls - yum. Smart girls that they are they snagged the leftover choco-popcorn and it is tempting me from next to the fridge. Somehow, though, my modest apple-corn fritters won the day and I have no leftovers to nibble. I do, instead, have my share of the grand prize: a purple inflatable ball shaped like a hippopotamus.

Dinner Tonight: Morrocan/Middle Eastern-Inspired Meal

This past weekend, I went home for a few days, and probably the best part of being home for the weekend (aside from showering in a private bathroom without flip flops) was going to the Grower's Market on Saturday. I picked up some sharp cheddar cheese and fresh apple cider for my dad, and shopped around for me: Some of Highland Farms' excellent French feta sheep cheese; North Star Orchards' sweet, crunchy Empire apples; and a honkin' big head of cauliflower. I admit, I was also tempted by exotic, three-foot stalks covered in brussels sprouts. Because they are a special horror to my mother, I have made it to 21 years old without ever having been confronted with a brussels sprout, and thanks to a recent post on Simply Recipes I am eager to try them.

Sunday I drove back to school (and learned on the way that in New York there is a maximum IQ for drivers licenses) with the cheese, the last apple, and half the head of cauliflower in tow. The money on my meal plan has been dwindling, along with my patience for the terrible food at school. So, what do you do when confronted with half a head of cauliflower and an eggplant brought by a visiting friend that's moving to punkyville? You make dinner, of course.

My starting point was the cauliflower. My favorite way to eat cauliflower is roasted; toss it in olive oil, season however you want, and roast in the oven around 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes or until tender and delicious. Cauliflower and eggplant together remind me of Morrocan cuisine (a strange association since I've never actually had Morrocan cuisine, just read about it) so I lightly seasoned the cauliflower with cumin, chili powder, and a tiny touch of garlic.

I admit my continued cluelessness about Morrocan food, but that doesn't mean I'm not enthusiastic. The eggplant dish, which I jumped into with both feet, came out serentipitously well. If you know what Morrocan food is like, tell me if this bears any resemblance at all to it, please:

Roasted Eggplant Somethingy
1 medium eggplant, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1-2 T olive oil
Cumin, chili powder, garlic or other seasonings to taste
1 c large bread crumbs. (We had some stale ciabbata bread that was absolutely perfect.)
1 small can tomato paste
1 large can diced tomatoes (or 2-3 medium tomatoes, diced)

Toss the eggplant in olive oil; add spices. Add bread crumbs, tomato paste, and diced tomatoes and toss until uniform. Since I cook college style, I laid out a large sheet of tin foil, laid the eggplant mixture on it, and wrapped it up. (Not because I'm lazy but because I only have one pan.) You can put yours in a casserole and cover it. Bake at 400 for 30-40 minutes or until the eggplant is tender.

I also served this with roasted red peppers, hummus from the dining hall salad bar, and rice. (Couscous or pita bread might have been more appropriate, but I had rice, and it's not like they sell couscous or pita bread on campus.) I got to share this with my roommates and a friend who is starting to starve because of the absurdly high prices of food on campus. There were almost no leftovers, just a little bit of eggplant left in the foil because we all filled up on cauliflower, rice, and red peppers with hummus. Yum. ^_^

Monday, October 26, 2009

Try This Recipe: One-Pot Lentil Stew & Recipe Exchange

My mother is a very sensible woman and does not usually pass on or even read chain emails, but she actually sent me one recently. It's a virtual recipe exchange; send your favorite go-to easy recipe to the person who sent the email to her, and then pass the recipe exchange invitation along to your contacts, asking them to send her a recipe and do the same, so that you recieve recipes from their contacts. It's kind of interesting because you wind up with recipes that you might not have gotten otherwise.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I actually participated, in part because I am sick as a dog and have been nursing a pot of lentil stew. It's excellent, as dorm fare goes, and pretty darn good as a sick-day cookup, too. This is the recipe I sent out (to my Aunt Patti, actually.)

One-Pot Lentil Stew

1 c. chopped ham, bacon, or canadian bacon
1 medium onion, chopped
2 medium carrots, chopped
2 stalks of celerey, chopped
2-3 cups of any other veggies you feel like adding, chopped. Tried and true: cabbage, potato, spinach, turnip, and parsnip - not necessarily in the pot together, but they each work well in this stew.
1 can of diced tomatoes, with juice
1 can of V8
Water (fill the empty tomato can and pour it in)
Salt, pepper and rosemary (optional) to taste
1 c. lentils (or other dried bean)

In a large pot over mediumt to high heat, cook the ham and onion together until they begin to caramelize, stirring frequently. Add the carrots, celerey, and other veggies, stirring until they begin to wilt. Add diced tomatoes, V8, and water. Simmer 5-10 minutes, or until the veggies are tender. Taste and season with salt and pepper as desired. If you want, add a whole sprig of rosemary. (Rosemary tastes great in this, and by adding a whole sprig you can cook in the flavor but pull out the needles, so it doesn't ruin the texture.) Add lentils and simmer, covered, for 15 to 20 minutes or until lentils are tender. Serves 8.

If the recipe exchange sounds interesting to you, let me know by emailing me at uronlysunshine@gmail.com. I'll add you to the email before I send it out - I'm curious to see what I'll get back. Enjoy!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Try This Recipe: Mom's Dark Chocolate & Orange Cake

My mother loves to bake, even more than I do. As I've mentioned before, she is a chemist, and baking is chemistry with really tasty results. She also decorates cakes for friends and family. When my oldest cousin got married, Mom made her wedding cake, covered in fondant and Cornelini lace. Learning from her has been one of the best things in my culinary education. If you have a little extra orange buttercream icing, try your hand at making buttercream roses.

This is the cake she made for my 21st birthday. She created this recipe for the Hershey's Cocoa Classic, and got all the way to the Pennsylvania State Fair with it last year, before being railroaded by an anti-citrus judge. Be aware, this cake is very strong in flavor, and quite rich. You could easily get 16 slices from this, and even more if you've got a sharp knife.

For the cake:
6 T butter
6 T margarine
1 3/4 c sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
2 c flour
3/4 c Hershey's Special Dark cocoa
1 1/4 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 1/3 c water

Grease and flour two 8-inch cake pans, line bottoms with wax paper, grease paper. Preheat oven to 350. Cream butter, margarine and sugar in large mixer bowl. Add eggs and vanilla; beat 1 minute at medium speed. Combine dry ingredients; add alternately with water to creamed mixture. Pour batter into greased pans. Bake for 45 minutes at 350, or until layers test done. Cool in pans for 10 minutes, then transfer to wire rack, removing wax paper immediately, and allow cakes to cool completely.

Orange buttercream icing:
3/4 c butter
1 t orange extract
Zest of 2 medium oranges
3 c powdered sugar
1 1/2 T heavy cream
(optional) food coloring - 2 drops red, 4 yellow

Cream butter, add extract and zest. Gradually add cream and sugar. Add food coloring if desired. Beat on high until smooth and light.

Chocolate fudge frosting:

6 T melted butter
1/2 c Hershey's Special Dark cocoa
2 c powdered sugar
1/4 c heavy cream
1 t vanilla extract

Pour melted butter into mixing bowl; add cocoa, stirring until smooth. Gradually beat in powdered sugar, cream, and vanilla. Beat until smooth.

To assemble the cake, level your halves, and torte the layers - cut them in half horizontally, so that now you have four thin layers of cake. Fill between the layers with the orange icing, and use it to make a thin crumb coat on the sides of the cake. This does a couple of things: torting the cake distributes rich orange flavor, and the crumb coat keeps the cut edges of the cake from gunking up the outer layer of your icing with - you guessed it - crumbs. Ice the sides and top of the cake with chocolate icing, and decorate with the remaining orange buttercream. No matter how it looks, this is a showstopper once the first person takes a bite.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Try This Vlog: Working Class Foodies

If you've read more than two or three posts by now you know that I am a huge fan of Simply Recipes and 101 Cookbooks. Now, I am also a fan of Working Class Foodies. The premise of this sort-of vlog is that siblings in New York are looking to prepare healthy food from sustainable sources on a tight budget. Sounds pretty familiar, huh? I'd get my brother in on this, but he has a thing for Cheetohs and Top Ramen. WCF is just fun, light, informative, and it makes my mouth water every time I watch it.

In other news, we finally have a fridge! My roommates and I are all looking forward to being to store the food we've prepared, and I am looking forward to... boxed lunches. Yessiree, you heard me right, I am looking forward to boxed lunches. My schedule this semester runs me hard from 9 to 5, and there simply are no Hofstra meals that are fast, cheap, and appetizing. Solution? Bento! I might not spend the time and effort Anna the Red does but that doesn't mean I can't learn a little something from the Japanese art of the boxed lunch. This weekend will include a grocery store run for an appropriate box, rice, and some nice fresh veggies.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Try This Recipe: Basilisk Repellent

I feel like there's no point in obfuscating my location any more, now that it's been plastered across national headlines. I go to Hofstra University, and in case you haven't heard, this past week my campus has been rocked by first allegations of gang rape, and then the unsettling truth that it was consentual. This has been accompanied by other, actual, incidents of violence - a brawl during a Greek life party, an armed robbery, and two incidents of young women being detained and harassed by young men. All in all, no one is feeling very safe on campus right now, especially young women.

I was lucky enough to have five years of training in Tang Soo Do before leaving for school, but neither of my roommates have had much self-defense training. The university offers a weekly Aikido class, which we'll be taking together for a while. Lindsey, one of my roomies, has taken to calling it "Basilisk Defense."

As an aid to all basilisk defenses, I think all young women should carry some form of basilisk repellent. In New York, the strict laws about Mace and pepper spray make me want to err on the side of caution, so here is a homemade version of anti-creep spray that is perfectly legal. Keep in mind that the purpose of self-defense sprays is to give you a chance to run away, not inflict harm. I have overheard plenty of young women talking about how they'd try to beat up a creep like that, and the point is: don't. If you are ever in that situation, your job is to stay safe. Focus on remembering what your attacker looks like and how you can get away. If you are able to spray, do so, and make a break for it. My Aunt Gloria's advice is to look an attacker in the eyes, because it reminds him that you are human, too, and it also slows his reflexes.

Get a small spray bottle, like the kind scents come in, which you can often find at craft stores. Fill it most of the way with rubbing alcohol, and add a few drops of your favorite essential oil. Top with water or witch hazel, cap, and shake well. It's really that simple - a good spray of that about the eyes and face will sting an attacker and distract him long enough for you to run away.

Almost anything in a spray bottle can work: perfumes, sanitizers, anything with some alcohol in it stings. I actually carry a bottle of fabric freshener in my purse, because it has the benefit of stinging alcohol, as well as not looking like a weapon, and the confusion factor of "It stings, it stings - why do I smell like spring rain?"

So, ladies and gentlemen, please keep yourselves safe. Be aware of your surroundings, trust your gut, and look out for yourselves and your friends.

PS - Friday was my birthday. Soon to be posted: my mother's killer chocolate cake recipe.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Try This Recipe: "With" Buns

Although we have yet to acquire a refrigerator for our room, I have managed to keep my sourdough starter, Mikey, alive and well for two weeks so far. I've even baked with her three times, with varying success - sourdough needs salt, and a fair amount of it, too. (For clarity, I mean the dough and not the starter. Salt kills yeasties, but it also makes your bread taste good. Big thanks to the lovely ladies of Ravelry for that.) My latest attempt was just yesterday, and it was quite a success.

I'm sure somewhere out there someone has a name for this kind of bread, but my roommates and I are calling it yummy. It's sourdough buns "with" - the "with" being cheese, carrots, and peppers. And it tastes amazing. I'm curious to see what you think of it.

Buns Wit'
(for all you cheesesteak eaters out there)

1 cup sourdough starter
1/2 cup warm (not hot) water
3-5 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 liberal shake of garlic powder (optional)

Mix your sourdough and water in a large bowl, and slowly add one cup of flour at a time. I recommend adding two cups of all-purpose and then the wheat flour, to make sure all the wheat flour is absorbed into the dough. When the wheat flour is mixed in, add more all-purpose flour until the dough forms an elastic ball in the middle of the bowl. With floured hands, knead in the salt (and garlic powder, if you like) a 1/2 teaspoon at a time. Continue kneading for three minutes; this is the stage where your kneading turns the flour-and-water glue into gluten, long proteins that bind the bread and trap the carbon dioxide from the yeast, making your bread light and lofty. I find it easiest to knead in the bowl, as it makes cleanup simple and protects the dough from poorly-cleaned counter tops.

1/4 cup carrots, finely chopped
1/4 cup red pepper, finely chopped
1/4 cup green pepper, finely chopped
1/3 cup shredded cheddar cheese

(I do appreciate the salad bar at school - it is more or less an ingredients bar, and half the prep work is already done.)

Knead the "with" ingredients in in small quantities. Flatten your dough, sprinkle a little on top, and pull one edge over and press down. Rotate the dough a quarter turn and pull that edge over and press down. Repeat with all edges, and then start again with the next ingredient. Once you've got all the veggies and cheese you want incorporated, keep kneading for another three to five minutes, to evenly distribute the goodness.

Cover the bowl and let rise until doubled in a warm place. Depending on how active your sourdough is and how warm the place, this can take quite a while. One of the challenges of dorm baking is that sometimes, our dorm gets inexplicably chilly. The low-tech, I-don't-want-to-stay-in-the-kitchen solution is to cover your dough with a towel, secure the towel with a rubber band or tape, and then get cozy. Tuck the bowl under the covers with you and let your body heat do the work. I have actually done this, while doing a homework assignment. Yeast likes temperatures from the mid-seventies to the upper nineties, and our dorm was stubbornly sticking to the low sixties. It's a little bit Oregon Trail, but it works.

The more reputable solution is to warm an oven to its lowest setting (usually 200 degrees) and put your dough in with the door propped open so it doesn't get too hot. If your oven has a light, which the ones at school don't, just turning on the light and closing the door is usually enough to make your yeasties happy.

When your dough has doubled, punch it down and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Using a very sharp knife, cut the dough into quarters, for big buns, or sixteenths, for single-serving buns. Shape each piece of dough into a mini boule, done by tucking one edge under, rotating the dough a quarter turn, and repeating until you have a little round ball. Arrange the mini boules on a baking sheet or in a loaf or cake pan. I like mine close enough to bake together, but you can space them out if you prefer. Give them their second rise, until doubled. (This rise must be done in the oven. It can only be done in the bowl if you are making a single large loaf.)

When they have almost doubled, remove from the oven and preheat the oven to 425 F. Using a very sharp serrated knife, slash an "x" in the top of each mini boule. This slash allows steam to escape as they bake, which helps with the texture of both crumb and crust. It also looks cute. Just before putting the bread in the oven, spray or sprinkle the it with water. I usually do this by wetting my hand over the faucet and flicking water over the bread five or six times. If you have an oven-safe container, fill it with water and put it in the oven as well. The steam will help your crust brown nicely without being too tough.

Bake for 15 minutes, turn and add more water to the other container if necessary, and bake for another 15 minutes. Check for doneness - the loaves should be golden brown to dark brown, and should sound hollow when you tap on them. If not, let bake for another 5 minutes. If the bread is browning too quickly, cover with tin foil. When the bread is done, remove from oven and allow to cool. (A wire rack is nice for this step, but not required.) Once it's cool enough to handle, eat and enjoy!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Dinner Tonight: The Gourmet Dorm Makes Beurre Blanc

Hello from beautiful Long Island! I'm back at school again, and my roommates and I have found a way to comfortably solve the jigsaw puzzle that is a triple. It's actually quite spacious, and the room has two key perks: a long-shot view of Manhattan, and a very short trip up the stairs to the kitchen. Normally, I know, dorm kitchens inspire fear in even the hardiest of hearts, but our lovely learning institution made some improvements and so far everything has stayed clean enough that I can tolerate cooking there.

Yesterday one of my roommates encountered two young men
trying, with no success, to cook some haddock that one of them caught in Vermont on Saturday. After destroying one small fillet, they left her with four large ones. So today after classes we went to the grocery store for supplies and in our tiny dorm we and our friends made a feast.

Tonight's menu:

Pan-searedhaddock fillet with
sauteed mushrooms in beurre blanc
Garlic mashed potatoes
Fresh green beans

I have been slowly working my way through Julia Child's My Life in France and when Jane said haddock, I knew I had to try a beurre blanc. It is practically a character in her memoir. She describes in tantalizing detail the tangy, buttery, distinctive taste of the rich French sauce - literally "white butter" - so tantalizing, in fact, that I found myself salivating as I read. And you know what? It deserves its reputation.

Beurre blanc is time-consuming but not overly complicated. It is simply minced shallots in the acid(s) of your choice (battery acid strongly discouraged) reduced over low heat, into which one whisks cold butter. It sets off the taste and texture of mild fish beautifully.


My beurre blanc was more of a beurre marron, because rather than
buying white wine vinegar, we stole almost a cup of balsamic vinegar from the dining hall. (Stole is a bit harsh. The ladies at the checkout don't know what to do when you walk past holding cups of salad dressing, so they just don't bother to ask.) This went in a little pot with three finely minced shallots and about 3/4 to 1 cup of lemon juice. I brought it to a boil, and then turned the heat to low while the sauce reduced by roughly half, stirring occasionally.

In a large pan, a friend sauteed 8 oz of sliced button mushrooms until brown and tender, and reserved them in a bowl while Jane started the haddock. She understands fish much better than I do - my impulse to check and fiddle and meddle does not do with the patient nature of fish. She lightly coated the pan with olive oil, and added the haddock skin-side down over medium-high heat. And then she waited. Unless you are adding enough oil to fry, fish sticks to the pan until it is done and ready to release, and if you poke it around any sooner - like I tend to do - you will break it up and ruin it. We watched the tinges of pink in the fish flesh slowly disappear as it cooked, the edges turning white first. When the skin side was good and done, Jane flipped it and did the other side. Simple, but you have. to. take. your. time.

Meanwhile I was back at the other range, cutting butter into
manageable chunks and whisking it into the balsamic-lemon-shallot reduction, which I had turned down to below a simmer. I added - I kid you not - a full three sticks of butter to the beurre blanc. Once the butter was fully incorporated I took it off the heat and added the mushrooms. We added the sauce to the fish on the plate and I got one of my favorite cook compliments ever - five minutes of relative silence punctuated by "mmm, yummy" noises.


Good food, good friends - good times.

Yeah, one of their improvements was to give the kitchen a mural of - what, the Riviera? We're not really sure. But it does add to the ambiance.

Top right: up close and personal with the haddock fillets. We were quite impressed, as the young man who caught the haddock cleaned and filleted it himself.
Middle left: Chopping shallots
Bottom right: A friend helping me to whiskwhiskwhisk the butter into the beurre blanc.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Try This Ingredient: Swiss Chard, Two Ways



At some point, every cook encounters scary food - sometimes it's the degree of difficulty, and sometimes it's an ingredient that is intimidating because of the amount of work it takes. Swiss chard is scary because it's hard to prepare, and also because it can have a very bitter taste. But it's just so pretty! I saw bundles of it at the farmer's market and knew I had to try it at least once.

The first step to preparing Swiss chard is to separate the leaf from the stem. You could wash it first, but these things are big! (If you do wash it first, dry it thoroughly before proceeding.) Cut carefully along the edge of the stem, on both sides.

Here is a picture of the separated stem on top of the leaf

Now remove any bad spots from the leaves and cut into strips about an inch wide, reserving stems. Put the leaf strips in a bowl and, if you haven't already, wash them under cool running water.

Swiss Chard Saute

2 cloves minced garlic
1-2 cups halved and seeded cherry tomatoes
6-8 chopped Swiss chard leaves
Salt and red pepper flakes to taste

Coat the bottom of a large pan with olive oil, and saute the garlic over medium heat until fragrant and soft. Add cherry tomato halves and cook for 3-5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the chopped chard one or two handfulls at a time (don't overload the pan) and wilt. Add 2 tablespoons of water if the pan is too dry. Add salt and red pepper flakes to taste.

I'm a big fan of "using the whole buffalo," so to speak. Swiss chard saute makes a great accompaniment to a lot of things (I think it would be good with steak or pork) but one of them is pasta with a creamy chard rib sauce, based on another of SimplyRecipes.com's wonderful dishes.

Pasta and Swiss Chard with Cream Sauce

2 cups chopped Swiss chard ribs
4 slices American bacon, chopped (optional for vegetarian or kosher fare)
2 T butter
1 cup heavy cream (or just milk if you're a fraidy-fat)
Approximately 200 grams of uncooked pasta (or rice for Celiac-friendly)
Salt and pepper to taste

Blanch the ribs in boiling water for 3 minutes; transfer to a colander to cool and drain. Saute the bacon in the pan until fully cooked; drain off rendered bacon fat. Melt the butter in the pan with the bacon; add the ribs and simmer for 3-5 minutes. Add cream and simmer until the mixture reduces by two thirds.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in a separate pot until just aldente. Drain and add to reduced sauce, stirring to coat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Try This Recipe: Manicotti and Family Time

I love my family. They are all completely mad, but I love them the way you love Alice in Wonderland. I also love it when people read my blog and give me feedback - so when my Aunt Jennifer messaged me about the scone post, I was over the moon!

Aunt Jenny wanted to talk not about scones, but about sourdough. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, kept a sourdough starter alive for many years, and baked from it every week, something I never knew. (This is the same great-grandmother who played the violin, raised some of the most rambunctious boys imaginable - my father included - and switched them when they misbehaved. I think I would have liked Great-Grandma Vera, had I met her.) Apparently the desire for sourdough runs in the family, although not the ability to raise a starter.

One of her sons, my great-uncle Bill, turned 80 last week, and his party was Sunday afternoon, and I got to spend some time with clippings from my Dad's family shrub. I do mean shrub, not tree. For as far up as we can go, we go even farther out. Third cousins, step-cousins, cousins out your ears, and a
smattering of aunts and uncles. And as crazy as that is, it was awesome.

I came away from the family gathering with three things: one, a culture of my Uncle Fred's sourdough starter, which he was nice enough to share, and which I will hopefully not kill. Two, a promise of alpaca fiber for spinning, knitting and reviewing in the mail from a cousin-cousin-cousin who raises them. Three, my father's uncle's cousin's wife's recipe for
manicotti.

Pam's
Manicotti for a Crowd

1 1/2 cup flour
1 1/2 cup water
6 eggs
A liberal pinch of salt

Pam says the key to good
manicotti is to sift the flour twice; once as you measure it and again as you add it to the eggs and water in a blender or food processor. Let it sit for 30+ minutes. To cook the crepes, she recommends a good enamel omelet pan, over medium heat; oil the pan, and then blot the excess with a paper towel.

Her trick to the perfect size: measure the batter with a coffee scoop, which is just under 1/8 cup, or 2 tablespoons. Pour your batter into the hot pan and spread it out so it is uniformly thin. Let it cook until the crepe is dry on top, then flip it and give it just a few seconds on the other side. Stack them separated by wax paper.

For the Filling:

3 pounds of ricotta cheese (If you're feeling ambitious, try
this recipe from Elise Bauer's blog.)
6 eggs
Parsley, fresh or dried
Salt
3/4 pound shredded whole-milk mozzarella
Pam says if you have any really good cheeses you like sitting around, throw them in, the more the merrier!

Mix until uniform in a large bowl. Depending on how stuffed you like your manicotti, each can take 1/3 - 1/2 cup of filling. Line it up, roll up the crepe around it and voila - you have a manicotti. This recipe makes roughly four dozen - Pam wasn't kidding when she said it feeds a crowd! If a large crowd isn't in the cards, you can always freeze them for easy dinner later.

To freeze the prepared manicotti, put them in a foil pan, ideally 12 in each of four. Cover with foil and put in the freezer. It's really that simple. When you're ready for that cheesy goodness, you can thaw them overnight in the fridge or pour sauce over the frozen manicotti and bake right away. (How long? What temp? Your Betty Crocker Sense should be tingling - 350 until the cheese is gooey and melted.)

Pam, the wonderful person and cook that she is, has promised to pass on other delicious recipes that I can't wait to try out and share with you - Mama Leone's one-skillet veal made student-friendly with chicken instead; a whole onion pink vodka sauce - with real vodka, so this one will have to wait until next month, when I'm old enough to buy vodka; and a tomato sauce slow-simmered with country spare ribs that sounds so good, I am practically drooling. In the mean time, I suggest you skip freezing the manicotti and make enough to feed your whole big family so you can sit down and talk about the recipes that they make, because you never know what gems you'll find.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Try This Recipe: Currant and Cream Scones

I love to bake. I have no idea why, but when I'm feeling blue nothing cheers me up quite like the smell of the baking process, from yeast breads rising to quickbreads baking. I especially love some underappreciated home-baked goods, like sourdough and scones.

Sourdough is tricky, and has a bum rap as being too tempremental to try at home, which I think is patently untrue. The key is patience. I'm too proud to buy starter so I make it from scratch, with varied success - I've lost starter to a terrible cheese-fishy taste, but I also won Best in Show for my sourdough at the county fair. Patience.

Scones also have a bad reputation that they really haven't earned. For as much as I advocate playing with things in the kitchen, the chemistry of scones is something that shouldn't really be fooled around with, and I think that's where people run into trouble.

There are three keys to good scones. First, always use real cream. A low-fat scone is a sweetened rock. Yes, you add butter as well but trust me, fats are essential to a light, fluffy scone. The Williams-Sonoma Essentials of Baking says that quick breads contain more fat and sugar than yeast breads because fat and sugar "along with gentle and limited mixing, are what give quick breads their tender crumb." My mother the chemist agrees. "Think about what happens when you heat sugar; it gets hard. If you coat sugar with fat, it keeps the sugar from clumping together and forming that hard crystal." Fat molecules also repell one another, so they allow the leavening agent in your scone (in this case an acid-base reaction between the cream and the baking powder) to work to the best advantage.

Second, keep your butter cold. Cut it up before starting and then put it back in the fridge until you're ready to put it in - and once you do, work quickly. My mother and I have speculated (with no assistance offered by our baking books) and while we aren't sure why, this is an absolute truth of scone baking. Softened butter will not do. (My completely untested theory is that the cooled fats don't have a chance to make the dough softer and spread out, so the leavening can push your scone up and not out.)

And finally, even if you don't feel it, act with confidence. A scone is a quickbread because making it should be - you guessed it - quick. Overworking the dough can make it hard and dense, so don't overthink it. Once it looks pretty uniform, stop, and move on to the next step, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, do not see if "just a few more stirs" will make it any better. Trust me, it won't.

Last night I made currant and cream scones from the aforementioned baking book, and so far enough friends have asked for the recipe that I decided to share it. Williams-Sonoma, please don't sue me.

2 c flour
1/4 c sugar
1 T baking powder
1/2 t salt
2 t lemon zest
6 T unsalted butter cut into chunks
1/2 c dried currants
3/4 c heavy cream

Topping: excess cream, 1 T demerara or turbinado sugar, 1 t cinnamon

Stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and lemon zest. Cut in butter until the mixture forms large coarse crumbs the size of small peas. Stir in currants. Pour the cream over the dry ingredients and mix with until dry ingredients are moistened.

On a lightly floured surface, press the dough together until it clings in a ball. Shape into a disc about a half inch thick and 6 1/2 inches across. Cut the disc into 6 wedges and place on a baking sheet covered in parchment paper 1 inch apart.

Brush the wedges with the remaining cream. Mix the sugar and cinnamon, sprinkle over wedges. Bake at 425 until golden brown, 13-17 minutes. Cool on wire rack. Serve warm or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to two days.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Try This Recipe: Steak Marinade

After trying to be a vegetarian for so long, I am just not a big fan of steak. It's not that it's bad, I just tend to prefer a well-prepared eggplant to the average hunk of red meat. (Meatballs excluded. They are a weakness of mine.) Adapting yet another recipe from SimplyRecipes.com, I finally found a marinade that makes steak so good even I like it. Poor old Dad loves this one, because it takes steak and potatoes to a very good place that isn't too weird for him.

Marinade for roughly two pounds of beef:
  • 1/3 cup soy sauce
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • 1/4 cup honey
  • 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar (add a little splash extra if you like apples and honey together.)
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • a few grinds of black pepper, to taste
I like to pour it all straight into a two cup Pyrex measuring cup and fudge a little on the amount of honey and cider vinegar I'm putting in, because as long as you're in the ballpark it tastes great. Give it a good whisk (I'm not usually a tool snob but this little doohickey is perfect for the job) and let it sit while you lay out your steak in a pan. Whisk it up again, and pour it over top. Cover the pan and let it hang out in the fridge.

It's best if you let the steaks marinade overnight - for example, my brother is coming home tomorrow and I started marinading the steaks today - but if you have less time, keep them moving. Depending on how long you have, flip them every one to four hours, and try to hit each side twice with the marinade. (If you have less than four hours, you're too late.)

I cook steak in a broiler pan placed on the second position from the element. Depending on the thickness of your steak, each side can take 8 to 12 minutes. Wait until the fat is caramelized, flip the steaks, and then do the same for the other side. Test for doneness by cutting into the center of the steak and put them back in the oven if they are still very red; if the meat is more pink, take them out and let them rest for about ten minutes before carving. (If you can wait that long.) The same rules apply for steak on the grill. I prefer the oven because I can save the juices for gravy and feed some to my dog.

Another family favorite for steak marinades is bulgogi sauce. It is a pungent garlic and mushroom sauce usually used in Korean barbecue, and you can find it at Asian markets or the ethnic section of some mainstream markets. For vegetarians it also makes a great accompaniment for grilled vegetables.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Try This Book: The Art of Simple Food

If you haven't heard of her, Alice Waters is the queen of real, good food. In 1971 she opened Chez Panisse in Berkley, California, with the intention of serving only local, fresh, seasonal foods. Since then, Chez Panisse has grown remarkably in not only location (it now includes a second eatery upstairs and a stand-up lunch and breakfast cafe a short distance away) but in mission. In 1996, Alice started the Chez Panisse Foundation, with the mission of teaching schoolchildren about healthy eating and sustainable living by helping them grow, make and eat fresh, healthy food.

Alice has written almost a dozen cookbooks in total (that I know of!) For someone who is new to cooking or to cooking whole foods, I highly recommend The Art of Simple Food. It's clear and readable and she breaks down everything a new cook could want to know - from what it means to "dice" and how to do it, to how to make chicken stock, to more complicated recipes.

The first section is broken down by types of food - salad, soup, bread - and techniques - slow cooking, simmering, grilling - and rather than being very cut-and-dried, the clear directions are peppered with helpful, friendly commentary designed to give a beginning cook the best tools an experienced mentor can offer. The second section is made up of recipes, categorized by type, which are equally clear and often include recommended variations, again an aid to someone learning about new flavor combinations and menus. The whole book is organized around Alice's nine guidelines for good eating:

Eat locally and sustainably
Eat seasonally
Shop at farmers' markets
Plant a garden
Conserve, compost and recycle
Cook simply
Cook together
Eat together
Remember food is precious

Alice's advice and wisdom are a boon to any cook at any level, and The Art of Simple Food is a straightforward, clear and comprehensible guide to how to make good ingredients into good food.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Dinner Tonight: Updated BBQ

My dad is very steak-and-potatoes kind of guy. He took it remarkably well when I announced I was going to go vegetarian at the wizened age of 10. (It never really took, but when I went food shopping with friends a few months ago, one of them told me she'd never seen anyone get quite so excited about vegetables. I take that as praise of the highest order.) He's taken my culinary experiments over the last few years in stride, which is quite an accomplishment considering how far astray I have wandered from time to time - did you know that basil in brown butter tastes like lemon, especially when poured over breadcrumbs made from sourdough? And that lemony flavor does not go with butternut squash or zucchini at all. My family knows this, bless their hearts.

Sometimes, I take pity on my dad and try to reign it in for a regular steak-and-potatoes kind of dinner. That's what tonight's menu was supposed to be:

Burgers
Corn on the Cob
Cole Slaw
Potato Salad

Run-of-the-mill weekend barbecue fare, right? The problem is that I seem to have an inability to make anything quite the way I should. My boyfriend says I'm a "tweaker:" I will take something that is perfectly fine the say it is and find a way to tweak it. I am not sure that this is a good thing. So that menu morphed into this menu:

Pasture-Fed Hamburgers on Brioche
Roasted Corn
Purple Cabbage Slaw
Potato Salad with Cucumber and Chives

The burgers were from the great operation that is Lindenhoff Farm, and unfortunately my mother obscured the really nice flavor of grass-fed beef with a handful of mesquite chips - the smokyness destroyed the sort of grassy, nutty notes I was expecting, and dried them out a bit. I think cooking them under the broiler might have been a better choice, but it wasn't terrible.

The brioche was leftovers. (Who has leftover brioche? Nutcases like me who bake for fun. Try it sometime. Punching down dough is cheaper than therapy.) The taste was good, but never again in my life will I use slices instead of buns. That was just a dumb idea.

To roast the corn, I peeled back but did not remove the husk, cleaned off the silk, and then put the husk back in place. I tied the tops shut above the ear, and let them sit on a cooler part of the grill and just hang out for almost an hour, as the coals caught and got ready for the meat. Next time, I would like to soak the whole ear, husk and all, in water for probably about half an hour before doing that. The corn cooked ok, but the husks dried out very quickly, which allowed the mesquite smoke in. Mesquite corn is interesting, but not something I am rushing to try again.

The cabbage salad was absolutely stellar. I used purple cabbage (why? 'cause it's what we had) with slivers of carrot and green bell pepper, tossed with salt, pepper, olive oil and sweetened rice wine vinegar, also known as sushi vinegar, in an adaptation of this recipe from Simply Recipes, which I love. (Ok, a really loose adaptation.) I loved it, especially since a mayonnaise cole slaw would have just turned everything pink, but this allowed all these beautiful colors to really pop. Dad was not of the same mind or palate, but he did at least enjoy...

The potato salad. A similarly loose interpretation of Alton Brown's cold potato salad, it was made with a half dozen russet potatoes from the farmer's market, a cucumber from a friend's garden that I threw in because it was getting kind of punky, and the small half of a small sweet onion, finely diced. I dressed it with mayo, mustard powder (a little more than called for,) and garlic, as per the recipe, but I substituted the parsley and tarragon, which I didn't have, for some fresh chives from the garden. It worked really well, even dad liked it. But at the end of the day, steak and potatoes is not something I do very well, because steak and potatoes can get too darn boring, and the kitchen should a playground!

PS - I did has cheesburger by putting some of Highland Farm's delicious French feta on top of my burger - yum!

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Where I'm Coming From + Fresh Frittata

Hi there, and welcome to Try This! My name is Anne. I'm a third-year college student from outside Philadelphia, transplanted to Long Island for school, and I love good food. I started this blog because I love good food and I really want to share that with other people - after all, when you mix good food and good company, you've got a party!

My aim is to share what I know, what I try, and what I learn about cooking. I've already got interesting stories to share, thanks to my crazy family. My mother is Italian-American and celebrations in my family revolve around the kitchen and the loud, happy frenzy of making and eating food together.

Six years ago we informally adopted my "brother," then a Korean exchange student whose father wanted him to get an American education, who is now my annoying kid brother and just part of the family. Tommy brought a new set of flavors into our kitchen, and while Italian and Korean cuisine are literally half a world apart, they stand united in the universal language of garlic, which is all it took to win me over.

My latest influence has been my reading. A friend and I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and to complement it I have been working through The Real Food Revival by Sherri Brooks Vinton and Ann Clark Espuelas, and next on the list is Alice Water's The Art of Simple Food. Right now, in the middle of Pennsylvania's summer bounty, a doable drive from not one but two wonderful local markets, I can honestly tell you that the red-pink watery chunks at my school's salad bar bear only a nominal relation to the sweet, tangy, succulent, earthy tomatoes I can get right now. Sustainable agriculture makes perfect sense to me on two fronts. I told you before, I like good food. I also like it when no one is poisoning me or my planet, so fresh and local is a double win.

In a nutshell, this is about turning real ingredients into real, good food, and doing it with the innovation required on a student budget in student space. This is going to be interesting.

For now, at least, I'm home, and that means I have funds, access, and equipment that make good food easy. This was dinner last night. The corn was from Thornbury Farm, the cheese from Highland Farm, the eggs from a childhood friend who raises chickens, and the basil from my own backyard.

Fresh Basil and Sweet Corn Frittata

olive oil for saute
1/4 sweet onion, finely chopped
1 1/2 tsp minced garlic
3 cups fresh sweet corn kernels (roughly 3 cobs. I recommend saving the cobs for vegetable stock if you plan on making your own.)
6 eggs
2 T milk
1/2 T baking soda
salt and pepper to taste
1/4-1/2 cup chopped fresh basil
1/4-1/2 cup crumbled French feta sheep cheese (or fresh mozzarella, goat cheese, whatever you like)

Coat the bottom of a large, oven-safe skillet with olive oil and put over medium heat. Preheat the oven to 350 on the "broil*" setting. When the skillet is hot, add the onions and saute; once the onions have begun to soften, add the garlic and corn. Saute until the corn is tender and sweet, and remove the skillet from the heat for a few minutes.

In a small mixing bowl, beat the eggs. You want roughly two cups of egg. Add salt, pepper, and basil. Last, add milk and baking soda,** mix thoroughly, and pour into skillet. Put the skillet back on the heat and gently prod the mix around so that the corn is evenly distributed throughout the egg mixture. Crumble the cheese on and prod it down into the egg a little, and then put the frittata in the oven.

Times vary, and I'm no expert on ovens. Start with five minutes, and check to see how set the frittata is before adding more time. When you think the fritatta is done, take a table or butter knife and make a small cut in the center of the skillet. If the knife comes out clean (not covered in egg slime) it's done. Take it out, cut it up, and enjoy. This experiment was very well received last night, and was great with some roasted potatoes and a slice of toast. It also microwaved well for breakfast this morning.

* You may or may not know this, but my dad didn't so I'll explain: "broil" doesn't mean "toaster" like Dad thought, it means that the heat is coming from the upper rather than lower element (that coil thing that gets hot) in the oven. Heat from above is important to a frittata, since in starting it on the stove the bottom is a little bit cooked already while the top is still raw eggs.

** I add milk and baking soda because the acids in the milk and the base in the baking soda react to create a lighter texture in the dish as a whole. Think back to the paper-mache volcanoes of yore, and you might remember a bubbling effect; the mild acids in the milk produce this on a smaller scale, so your frittata is soft and fluffy. (It won't go kaboom, I promise.)