Eat Real

A Day at the CIA ~ Holiday Pies Class 2009

2009-11-30T14:42:00.000-05:00

On the top shelf of my refrigerator is a pie plate in which sits 3 slices of sour cream pumpkin pie, all that remains of the 6 pies and various other desserts I made for our Thanksgiving celebrations this year. I don't really want to talk about that pie. In fact, I can't wait for it to go away, especially since tomorrow, December 1, is the official kick-off of Christmas cookie season and there's a lot of excitement around here about that.

But I'm not quite finished talking about pie yet. I want to tell you about the Holiday Pies Class I attended at the CIA last week. Regular readers will remember that I was pretty excited about it, and I can tell you, I was not disappointed: I loved every minute of it.

The class session I attended was filled with a delightful group of women who ranged from those who had never made a scratch crust before to others who'd made plenty but were unsatisfied with results that were unpredictable. We'd come from all over ~ I was nearest, driving less than an hour from the neighboring county. Others had come from neighboring, or not neighboring states.

{I learned that it's not uncommon for folks attending enthusiast classes to come the previous evening, enjoy dinner at one of the CIA's restaurants and stay overnight in a hotel or inn nearby, making a getaway of it. Incidentally, there's plenty to do in the area, so traveling companions who are not inclined to take the classes can while away their time doing something more to their liking while foodies indulge in the CIA class experience.}

Our instructor, Certified Master Baker Juergen Temme, was extremely gracious and accommodating in fielding all manner of questions and demonstrating techniques for the class. His trio of "pie fairies" took on the burden of scaling and prep work so that all this was done for us, leaving each student with a perfectly arranged mise en place waiting for our arrival.

But Chef Temme didn't just demonstrate the how-to part ~ he also explained the whys and wherefores, something I, as a professional baker, found particularly useful. There is the popular saying that "baking is a science," and, of course, that's true. But like cooking, there's a lot of art to it, and achieving success is found somewhere in striking a balance between the two. That's where, to me, this type of instruction is so valuable.

Over the course of the 5-hour class, we made pie crust to take home (which I was tremendously grateful for come Thanksgiving morning), classic versions of pumpkin and pecan pie, and a double-crust apple pie, all of which we took home in bakery boxes. Some students opted to make an additional cherry lattice pie, a technique that Chef Temme ably demonstrated.

During these gently rigorous hours, we were fortified with cookies prepared by an earlier pastry class taught by Chef Temme.

While our pies were cooling, we enjoyed a superb lunch in a private dining room ~ lamb and chicken kebabs, barley pilaf, fresh pasta we'd watched being sheeted in the adjoined kitchen as we rolled out our own crusts, breads, freshly made mozzarella salad, and Black Forest cake. Really, a highlight of the day. And after lunch, we returned to the kitchen to find our aprons and tocques neatly placed atop our boxed pies, our recipe booklets alongside, the benches spotless. Thank you, pie fairies.

This is my third Enthusiast Class, and an impression I had from the first two stays with me. These classes are unique in that they offer the opportunity to learn in a completely nonthreatening and supportive atmosphere from some of the most respected professionals in the field. The instructors are at the top of their game, true experts. And they're at your disposal throughout the class period. You can make mistakes without feeling foolish, ask questions without fear of condescending answers, and just immerse yourself in the experience of learning without fear of failure. There's ample help available ~ someone is always around to fix whatever goes wrong. And when you leave, you bring the fruits of your labor to show off to family or friends. All this and lunch, too.

It's no wonder that most people who've tried one Enthusiast Class go back for more. They're as addictive as Chef Temme's butter cookies.

Full disclosure: As regular readers of this blog know, last week I attended a one-day Holiday Pies Class at the Culinary Institute of America. I was there as a media guest of the CIA to report on the class experience and not specifically to learn about making pie. Nevertheless, in the presence of a certified master baker, you can't help but learn some valuable tricks and truc, and I will never, ever tire of the Enthusiast Classes at the CIA.

Holiday Pies at the CIA!

2009-11-21T08:50:00.003-05:00

Years ago, my husband and I lived in Chicago. Every Thanksgiving, I cooked an elaborate Thanksgiving dinner with a huge turkey, various trimmings, an appetizer course, hors d'oeuvres, and a couple of pies for dessert. All this for three people: he, me, and my younger sister, who would take the train out from college to spend the week as our Thanksgiving Visitor. It was blissful.

When our son was born, we moved the hundreds of miles back to New York to live closer to our parents (both sets of whom live in the same town ~ !) so we could do family-type things like celebrate holidays and get free babysitting.

Because my dad is a chef, I no longer cook Thanksgiving dinner. He hogs the spotlight by making a huge turkey, 35 side dishes, homemade cranberry relish, and about 50 appetizers that do a pretty good job of making the big meal anticlimactic. As the baker, I get assigned desserts.

Now, as you might imagine, it takes some pretty spectacular desserts to rouse any interest at all after this stupendous feast. My father's Thanksgiving dinner is not an easy act to follow. Over the years, I've refined my techniques so that the pies I make and bring tend to actually get eaten, which, you'll have to trust me here, is a tremendous compliment on its own.

This year, I'll be bringing my A-est game though. I'm going to the CIA ~ that's the Culinary Institute of America, folks ~ for their "Holiday Pies at the CIA" class! I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. Going back to the CIA is, for me, like what I imagine it would be for Alice to return to Wonderland (the good parts, that is).

When I told my chef friend at the restaurant where I work about my pie class, he said, "Do you think you really need a class on how to make pie?" (And yes, I did hug him, bless his heart.) I thought about it. And friends, the answer is yes. Because although I've made probably thousands of pies using scores of different techniques, there is never a point at which you stop learning. And every time I go back to the CIA for a class or a bootcamp, I learn something new, something expanding and relevant to the job I do at work or at home.

Plus, making all my Thanksgiving pies in someone else's kitchen with no cleanup at home and lunch at the CIA? Priceless.

If you want to get in on the action and live in the New York-Connecticut-Massachusetts area, check it out. The Holiday Pies class is offered on Monday 11/23, Tuesday 11/24, and Wednesday 11/25. And coming up in December, they'll be offering a Holiday Cookies Class. Wonderland, here I come.

Roasted Kale Chips

2009-11-16T16:16:00.003-05:00

I realize that I’m the last one to the party with these roasted kale chips. Everyone and their food-blogging neighbor has already made them or tried them. But for me, they were a revelation recently, and since then, a mild obsession.

First off, the only way I’ve ever been able to warm up to kale was to find it swishing around in a bowl of caldo verde, the Portuguese kale soup flavored with chorizo that I’m hoping is on the menu in heaven. Beyond this, kale was something pleasant to shove under a pork chop or a chicken breast before bringing a plate to the table.

I love, love, LOVE roasting vegetables, and in fact it’s my favorite way to prepare everything from cauliflower to Brussels sprouts. But for some reason, it never occurred to me roast a leafy green vegetable.

But after hearing so many sing the praises of kale in its roasted state, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I bought a bunch, trimmed, washed, and dressed it. Still, even as I was laying the leaves out on the baking sheet, I was skeptical. So leathery! So . . . odd. So little faith on my part.

Ten minutes later, we were in the presence of one of the most truly delectable, utterly addictive things I’ve ever consumed. I’m not hyperbolizing people ~ I’m dead serious. How serious? Between my two teens and a friend, they ate a pound and a half of kale and begged for more. KALE.

And kale, as you probably know, is one thing we should be eating much more of. Vitamins A, B6, C, and K, potassium, manganese, calcium and iron, folic acid and copper ~ kale has them. Fiber and carotenoids ~ got them. And kale, bless its leafy green heart, has fewer than 40 calories per cooked cup.

I will tell you right now, if you make these kale chips, better make twice as much as you think you’ll need. You’ll eat the first batch directly off the pan, burned fingers be danged. If you are serving this to kids, you can call it “kale chips,” but if you’re married to a man like mine, you’ll have to go with “roasted kale.” Either way, I suggest you keep things quiet until you’ve had your cut, then put them out on a platter, call them whatever you want, and watch them disappear.

Roasted Kale Chips

1 bunch kale, washed well and spun dry
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoons rice vinegar
Sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil and spray with nonstick pan coating.
Use a sharp knife to cut along each side of the central rib; remove ribs. Tear leaves into 2-inch pieces and place in large nonreactive mixing bowl.
In a small bowl, stir together olive oil and vinegar with a fork. Drizzle over kale leaves; toss to coat evenly. Use tongs to lay kale leaves in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Sprinkle with sea salt and black pepper to taste.
Roast kale for 5 minutes in preheated oven. Remove from oven and gently toss leaves with tongs or spatula; return to oven. Roast another 5 minutes, or until the kale is crispy and browned. The leaves with crisp further on standing, so don’t allow them to get too dark in the oven or they’ll be bitter. Let stand one minute on baking sheet, then remove to plate and serve.

Recipe Notes:

Be sure to remove the entire rib from each leaf. The rib portion, if left to roast, will become hard and spiky ~ very unpleasant to eat.
Do not be tempted to roast the kale at a higher temperature. If the kale cooks too quickly, it will be bitter and not perfectly crisp.
Make sure all the kale leaves are well coated with the oil-and-vinegar dressing; you can use kosher salt instead of sea salt if you don’t have the latter.
This technique also works with collard greens. The texture will be a bit different because the leaf is flat instead of curled, and it may take slightly longer, but it will still be delicious!

November 10 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-10T21:35:00.004-05:00

Music.

Specifically, right now, the music that's scrolling through my little hand-me-down iPod. My iPod is not fancy ~ it's an aging Nano that one of my kids upgraded from ~ but when I'm standing in front of a sink (and countertop and baker's bench and stove) full of dishes at the end of a long day and the last thing I feel like doing is getting busy with the sponge, a little music makes all the difference.

I could wax rhapsodic about the healing/soothing/brain-enhancing powers of music, but that's been done before and by far more delicate wits than that possessed by yours truly.

Scottish essayist Thomas Carlyle called music "the speech of angels." Writer Leo Tolstoy called it "the shorthand of emotion." And French poet Alphonse de Lamartine terms music, "the literature of the heart." Lovely and all true. Music is every one of these things and more.

There's no passion that music cannot raise and quell (John Dryden). It has the power to express what cannot be said and yet what is impossible not to say (Victor Hugo). It peoples undesired solitude (Robert Browning) and is the "wine that fills the cup of silence" (Robert Fripp).

And as beautiful as these charming, apt words are, when I'm up to my elbows in dirty pots or trying to survive another mile on the elliptical machine, it's a quote by American labor leader William Green that best describes my sentiments: "Music is a friend of labor for it lightens the task by refreshing the nerves and spirit of the worker."

I'm grateful for music, and for music makers. For Jimi Hendrix and Nina Simone, for Johnny Cash, Muse, Metallica, and Skillet. For old-time hymns and Flamenco guitar, 70s disco and 80s hair metal, and classic rock. Thanks for keeping me company, for refreshing my nerves and spirit, and for lightening my tasks. For those about to rock ~ and for those who have kept us supplied with rock all along ~ I salute you.

What are you thankful for?

Cinnamon Brown Sugar Ice Cream with Chili-Praline Pecans

2009-11-07T20:23:00.015-05:00

In some places in the world, like the U.S. Northeast, winter is coming. In New York, as I write this, it is 46 degrees and there's a chilly bluster in the wind that is shaking the autumn-leaf wreath on my front door. Some would say that ice cream season is behind us now. I am not that someone.

In my house, ice cream season never ends. Flavors changes with the seasons, the berries and fruits of spring and summer giving way to the spices and deep, intense savor of autumn and winter flavors. At no point in the year would I (I, who puts on a coat to retrieve the mail from my front porch, two literal steps from the door) ever say that the cold comfort of ice cream is obsolete.

Thanksgiving is coming up in a few short weeks and I think this ice cream is the perfect accompaniment to pies featuring apples, pears, squash, and pumpkin. Of course, it's perfectly nice on its own, but you might also like to serve it sandwiched between two large, chewy Ginger Sugar Cookies. The spiciness of the pecans is a slow burn ~ you won't notice it at first, but you'll feel it at the back of your throat a moment after you swallow.

The pecans themselves are pretty addictive. (Bonus: you'll use only have the batch in this ice cream, so you'll have plenty for snacking.) They also make a nice gift on their own. However, if you dislike nuts, feel free to omit them in the ice cream.

Cinnamon Brown Sugar Ice Cream with Chili-Praline Pecans

1 cup whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup light brown sugar, divided
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch sea salt
5 large egg yolks
1 cup Chili-Praline Pecans (recipe follows)

For Chili-Praline Pecans:

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 cup pecans, broken up
2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
Pinch sea salt (optional)

In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine milk, cream, 1/2 cup brown sugar, and cinnamon. Bring to scalding point (just until milk begins to steam and bubbles form around the edge), stirring to dissolve sugar.
Meanwhile, place egg yolks in a medium nonreactive mixing bowl. Whisk egg yolks along with remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and pinch salt. Set aside until milk is warm.
When milk is ready, slowly pour it into the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Pour egg mixture back into saucepan and place over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. The custard is ready when it begins to thicken and coats the back of a spoon. Remove it from the heat and pour it through a fine strainer into a clean bowl. Set the bowl over an ice bath or in the refrigerator to cool.
When the mixture is thoroughly cooled, process in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

To make Chili-Praline Pecans (recipe adapted from Bruce Weinstein's Ultimate Ice Cream Book ~ one of my absolute favorite books for ice cream recipes): combine 1 cup sugar and 1/2 cup water in a small heavy-bottomed saucepan. Heat over medium heat, stirring just until sugar dissolves. Let the sugar continue to cook until it turns golden. Take the pan off the heat, turn on your exhaust fan, and add 1 cup of pecans, broken up, and 2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes. Be careful here ~ the peppers will release eye-watering, nose-stinging fumes, so be sure to stand back at this point. Stir to coat the nuts evenly, sprinkle with a pinch of sea salt (optional), then pour them out onto a baking sheet lined with a piece of waxed paper or parchment sprayed with nonstick pan spray. Using a heat-resistant spatula, smooth nuts into a single layer. Let cool. When completely cool (about 1/2 hour), chop roughly and store in an air-tight container at room temperature.
To add pecans, either pour the chopped Chili-Praline Pecans into your ice-cream machine during the last minute or two of processing, or add them by sprinkling over the ice cream as you are spooning it into a container, layering the pecans throughout the ice cream. Freeze for at least 3 hours before eating.

Makes about 1 quart of ice cream.

Recipe Notes:

Don't panic if the ground cinnamon just floats on top of the custard base and refuses to blend in. It won't cooperate until you process the base in your ice-cream freezer, at which point it will incorporate beautifully.
If spicy is not your thing, omit the pepper flakes or replace them with 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon.

November 6 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-07T20:16:00.003-05:00

Cutlery.

Pedestrian? Perhaps. But I, for one, can't imagine life without knives, spoons, and forks.

How would we feed babies without spoons? Cut into a perfectly done T-bone without a knife? Swirl fettuccine Alfredo onto a spoon and into our mouths without benefit of fork tines?

Life without cereal? Finger foods forever? Messy hand-held surf-n-turf? I'm so grateful for flatware.

What are you thankful for today?

November 5 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-05T12:56:00.011-05:00

Teachers.

Teachers are, to me, some of the greatest unsung heroes. Of course, I'm biased. My husband is a teacher, and I can tell you that this is a position that is like few others in regard to the types of demands placed on it. Teachers are often torn between conflicting interests and expected to legislate a comfortable middle ground. They hold a job where they are always "on," always performing, always being critiqued, often publicly. (Especially high school teachers.) They have so much more to do than the job they actually get paid for ~ and they do it, day after day, with tremendous pressure from every angle. Yet they manage to supervise French club, offer extra help and mentorship, coach sports teams, and attend talent shows and car washes. And kids actually like teachers. Most of them, anyway.

I'm thankful, too, for those teachers who aren't teachers just by way of having a job title. These are the born instructors. Enthusiastic and generous, they're fantastic resources, willing to sharing their mastery.

Consider pinewood derbies, for example. They probably wouldn't exist without the tool-belt slingers who show up in gyms and church basements and community centers to shape wooden blocks into aerodynamic race cars and explain the principles of friction and load balance to 8-year-olds.

And then there are those who teach the icing-on-the-cake things ~ knitting, fly-tying, stretching the pocket of a lacrosse stick ~ that often germinate friendships by cementing connections through shared hobbies. Priceless!

I'm pretty thankful to a friend at work who has patiently taught me several new culinary skills for no other reason than because I asked him to (and not at all because I bribed him with pastry). Because he's a chef and I'm a baker, he's not required or expected to teach me anything, but I'm really grateful that he's willing to. Tasks he probably takes for granted ~ filleting a fish, breaking down a chicken ~ are new to me and therefore terrifically exciting.

Teachers, whether professional or personal, give their students the wherewithal to accomplish something good for themselves, regardless of the scale, effectively empowering them. And that is definitely something to appreciate.

What are you thankful for today?

November 4 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-04T21:18:00.009-05:00

People who take time.

I am a multitasker, a rusher, a packer of minutes into moments. I tend to require reasons, justifications, dual-purposes. I like killing two ~ or three, or six ~ birds with one stone. This has served me well as a freelancer, working independently to accomplish what I need to and simultaneously have a life, a family, a satisfying set of goals and dreams.

But when it comes to others, I often have to force myself to slow, to listen, to be still and engaged. When my son wants to play his latest guitar solo for me or my daughter wants to confide the nightmare that woke her last night, I must make a concerted effort to put down whatever I'm doing (showing not a wisp of irritation at the interruption), turn around, and take note. I have to work so hard to cultivate what seems to come naturally to so many others.

Take, for instance, coaches in the junior and senior high schools. As my kids have played their way through various sports ~ track, cross-country, soccer, lacrosse, wrestling ~ I can honestly say, the men and women who have coached them impressed me over and over with their generosity. For the most part, these are teachers with families, hobbies, and lives of their own. And while they do get paid to coach, somehow I don't think this quite compensates for the matches that run late on school (i.e., work) nights, early away meets on weekend mornings, inclement sideline duty, hostile parents, and the incredible trickiness of dealing with teens en masse.

And this also goes for people who volunteer to take time and share in the capacity of scout leaders, community sports coaches, Sunday school teachers, and activity coordinators in nursing homes and community centers. These positions require huge sacrifices in terms of time, and since none of us has much to spare, I am really grateful for those who are so unselfish with this precious commodity.

And going one step further than this, I'm thankful for people who take the time just to do something for someone else though it creates inconvenience them. Though it may not bring them any personal benefit at all to do so. The guy who walks his shopping cart all the way back into the store on a rainy day so someone will have a dry cart to use. A woman who visits a neighbor with Alzheimer's in the nursing home every few days, even though that neighbor will never, ever recognize her but likes having someone to eat lunch with.

I'm thankful for people who make time to take time, and who share it in ways, large or subtle, that impact people around them for the better.

What are you thankful for today?

November 3 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-03T22:40:00.004-05:00

Candy corn.

What can I say? I love it. I'm powerless to resist its sweet siren song. In fact, I admit to you now that I possess the field-tested ability to eat an entire pound by myself within a single day. It is the one candy-dish item I cannot leave alone. Shame on me? Whatever.

Candy corn was invented in the 1880s (that's Eighteen hundred and eighty-something) by a philanthropic genius (I'm only extrapolating here, based on his contribution to society) named George Renninger. Then, this heavenly bit of yum was made from sugar, corn syrup, honey, and a wee bit of salt. Now, there are other ingredients (like gelatin), but honey is still generally included.

See? Can you blame me for my sheer absence of willpower in this area? I suppose I could console myself with the fact that candy corn are fat-free, and that a serving of 22 pieces is less than 150 calories. But I don't care. For one thing, 22 pieces is nothing! A mouthful! Maybe I'm hyperbolizing. But just barely.

So, now that National Candy Corn Day (October 30) is behind us, the candy dish is empty, and I have eaten my fill of this alluring confection, I can express my gratitude without reservation. That is, fondant stuck in my molars.

What are you thankful for?

November 2 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

2009-11-02T21:35:00.003-05:00

Baking soda.

That's right. It's not fancy and it's certainly not the type of thing you might typically count among your blessings. But few things are as useful and simultaneously economical as the ol' bicarbonate of soda. If you have a box of this stuff on hand, you are prepared for any number of household emergencies. (And how I love, love to be prepared!)

For example:

Run out of toothpaste? Dip your damp brush in baking soda. Run out fabric softener? Pour a 1/4 cup of baking soda into the rinse water of your washing machine. Need to condition the straw out of your chlorine-stressed hair? Add 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda to your dollop of shampoo. Had a few too many corn dogs? Sip 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda dissolved in half a cup of water and it's all good. Grease fire in the kitchen? Dump the whole box on it. Stinky gym shoes? Sprinkle in the soda, let sit overnight. The list goes on and on.

And all this talent for less than a buck per pound! Amazing. Plus, you should see my biscuits!

So I'm thankful for this simple, awesome kitchen compound and all it has the power to do. Talk about a utility player!

What are you thankful for?

November 1 ~ Thanksgiving Time Again!

2009-11-01T18:46:00.004-05:00

One year ago today, I sat down to reclaim November in the name of Thanksgiving. As hard as it is to believe, here we are again, another year older, hopefully wiser, undoubtedly a little different . . . in many ways.

Much has happened here in the past year. Some unbelievably wonderful things, some hard and sad things. Business as usual, I guess. One thing that continues to amaze me is how much I have to be thankful for, even when circumstances leave me feeling not particularly grateful. Consider the great New Year's Brunch debacle.

We were hosting 20 family members, bright and earlyish, for brunch on New Year's morning. Of course, we'd all stayed up late the night before and we're dragging ourselves around the kitchen, trying to muster some enthusiasm for greeting guests while simultaneously baking cinnamon rolls, scrambling eggs, and cooking sausage. At some point during the frenzied preparations, guests due in less than an hour, I ran downstairs to pull a platter from the storage shelves in the cellar. As soon as my stockinged foot hit the carpet at the bottom of the stairs, my heart sank. Water. In a place no water should be. And warm water at that.

Our hot water heater had chosen this morning, of all mornings, to rupture ~ for the second time in 6 years. Was I thankful? No, of course not. Of all the words in the dictionary that could have been used to describe me in that moment, "thankful" was not one. I was furious, frustrated, overwhelmed, and annoyed beyond belief.

But a couple of hours later, sitting down amid company over the remnants of a shared meal on this first morning of a fresh year, I did feel the stirrings of some goodwill. We now had no hot water to wash the waiting mountain of dishes. I pondered this for about 3 seconds. Then it dawned on me . . . No dishes to do! Load the dishwasher, they'll keep. And it was true that the hot water heater had gone not once but twice in a handful of years. But it was 6 days within its warranty ~ we would end up getting a new one at no cost. And although it was a holiday morning, our hot water heater had held out past Christmas morning, which would have been a much bigger bummer. All these things were worth being thankful for!

At the start of this November, I'm sitting down to once again count my blessings. Not necessarily the big-ticket items that leap to mind ~ my relationship with Jesus Christ, my family, my health, etc. ~ but the little unsung blessings that make regular (and even irregular) days sparkle with promise. I hope you'll join me. I'd love to hear what makes you thankful, from the cream in your coffee to the silver linings around your storm clouds.

Happy month of Thanksgiving!

Another chance to win . . .

2009-10-06T09:05:00.003-04:00

Just in case you think you might have use for an extra $100, you might want to check out my latest post on Tuppence Reviews. The nice folks at Pepperidge Farm and BlogHer have given me the opportunity to review some new baked cheese crackers and to give away a chance at a $100 Visa gift card.

Go ahead and check it out. Winner is chosen by random number generator, so you have as good a chance as anybody at winning. If, you know, you think you might be able to use that extra money.

Tabbouleh ~ Honoring the Last Gasp of Summer

2009-10-05T11:00:00.005-04:00

Perhaps it's because they know that autumn is here. Perhaps they're mustering every last bit of energy they have to prove that they can, and will, proceed to produce long into the shorter days, chillier nights. Whatever the reason, my grape tomato plants have gone into hyperdrive, sprouting tomatoes and ripening them at a pace unrivaled at any other point during the summer. Which leaves me with the strange quandary of having a surfeit of sweet, tangy little tomatoes at just the point when no one wants to eat them any longer.

When it rained each and every single day of June and much of July, and I was reduced to purchasing my grape tomatoes for salads, everyone had a craving, a taste for the tiny fruits that I had to satisfy with the store-bought. And now? Too many, too late. We're tomatoed out. It's October, and we want beets (well, I do, anyway), broccoli, cauliflower, squash, and soon . . . Brussels sprouts. Tomatoes? Not so much.

I've roasted them. Dried them. Eaten them ad nauseum. Fed them to our guinea pigs. And still, we have ruby clusters emerging daily, an embarrassment of riches. So, here's what I've done. I've gone elsewhere in my late-summer garden for inspiration. There's not much left, but there's enough.

I picked tomatoes, mint, parsley . . . and made tabbouleh. It's easy, quick, healthy, and it uses as many tomatoes as you care to halve and include. The more herbs you put in, the better it is. It's good the first day, better the second. It's eaten by the vegetarian teen at my table ~ without complaint. And it's lunchbox friendly. Therefore, a winner.

Tabbouleh ~ for the End of Summer
~ adapted from Mark Bittman's recipe in How to Cook Everything.

1/2 cup fine or medium bulgur
1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
2 green onions, chopped
2 cups grape tomatoes, washed and halved
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 - 4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, to taste
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the bulgur in a medium mixing bowl and pour boiling water over to cover. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let sit for 20 to 30 minutes, until bulgur is tender. Drain excess water and return bulgur to bowl. In a small mixing bowl, combine oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. Pour over bulgur and stir to coat.
Add parsley, mint, and scallions to bowl; toss to combine. Gently stir in tomatoes. Taste for seasoning, adjust if necessary, and serve at room temperature or lightly chilled. May be made a few hours in advance and refrigerated, but let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes prior to serving.

Recipe Notes:

If you're not a fan of bulgur, don't be tied to it in this recipe. Feel free to replace it with couscous, orzo, or rice.
If you find yourself without a fresh lemon, do not use the bottled version of the juice ~ the taste will be inferior. Instead, use lime juice, rice vinegar, or white wine vinegar.
Feel free to experiment with add-ins. A few suggestions: thinly sliced radishes, toasted pine nuts, or crumbled feta.

An appetizer . . .

2009-10-02T11:08:00.002-04:00

Wow, can it possibly be October? It seems like the last time I checked, it was mid-August. At least, that's what my desk calendar says (and will likely say for another month, till I clear off the pile of work stacked on it).

The good news is, I have a new post coming up for you . . . but first, an appetizer. As many of you dear readers know, in addition to Eat Real and At the Baker's Bench, I write a review blog called Tuppence Reviews. If you have some time to spend while I'm putting the finishing touches on my latest Eat Real post, you might want to take a jump over to Tuppence. As a BlogHer reviewer, I recently took a crack at a few recipes featuring Ragu pasta/pizza sauces. Read the review, leave a comment according to the guidelines, and you have a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card. Seriously!

That's pretty appetizing, no? So mosey on over . . . I'll let you know when my post here is ready.

Cheers,
Sandy

What's the Big Stink about Anchovies?

2009-09-05T10:58:00.009-04:00

My love affair with anchovies began in my childhood, on a Christmas Eve. It involved an antipasto platter laden with olives, palm hearts, tightly rolled cornets of salami and mortadella, and a glistening pile of very salty fish fillets, each coiled around its own little prize ~ a single caper. My first taste was a revelation. These little reddish gray fish were dense with salt, bristling with fine bones, reeking but delicious. I was hooked for life from bite one.

People generally fall into two camps regarding anchovies: passionate fans and equally passionate abstainers. The former can't get enough. They know the difference between a white anchovy and a red one, and they will happily consume all the anchovies picked off the top of their dining companions' Greek salads. Those who fall into the latter camp are so turned off by anchovies that they have been known to refuse even to sit next to a dinner companion who orders something with anchovies, lest they be overcome by an errant whiff.

If you fall into this latter camp, consider when you had your first taste of anchovy. Was it on top of an atomically hot slice at a pizza parlor? Or worse . . . were you trying to enjoy your pepperoni slice, sitting next to someone indulging in an anchovy pie, fumes descending on you in a sunny-day-at-the-loading-dock cloud of stink? If so, the extreme heat of the pizza oven would have made that poor anchovy smell and taste even stronger, bringing up the fishiness and the salt to levels only hard-core anchovy lovers could (and do) appreciate.

Please, don't hesitate to try anchovies again. Desalted, they're much milder. Maybe try them in a chilled application, like a salad dressing, or in a sauce with many other robust flavors. You'll be amazed that you can't even pick out a "fishy" flavor ~ the anchovy seems to melt into the whole, contributing it's layer of umami and adding an indescribable element of richness.

In the U.S., anchovies are most commonly sold in their preserved form. It's difficult, but not impossible to find fresh anchovies. But because of their high oil content and small size, they don't transport well and are preserved to avoid spoilage. If you happen upon some fresh anchovies in your fish market, though, lucky you ~ you're in for a treat. Marinate or grill these little fish; the flavor is entirely different from the cured version.

Look for preserved anchovy fillets in flat oblong cans or small jars, packed in oil or salt. Anchovy paste, sold in tubes, is useful for recipes that call for mashed anchovies ~ sauces, dressings, and the like. For fillets, I highly recommend buying anchovies in the little glass jars over the cans, unless you plan to use the entire can right away. The glass jars are resealable, and when you're dealing with a 3-inch fish that has the capacity to overpower and incapacitate any other flavor you have in your refrigerator, that is something to consider. However, if you can't find the jars, buy the can and transfer the anchovy fillets to a tightly sealed small glass container in your refrigerator, away from easily impressionable foods like milk and butter and the charlotte russe you carefully created for tomorrow's dinner party.

If you find anchovies too salty for your taste or your recipe, you can easily desalt them. Simply soak the fillets in a bit of milk, dry white wine, or plain water for about half an hour. Rinse them in cool water and gently pat them dry prior to using them in a recipe.

My favorite way to eat anchovies is straight from the jar with a small cocktail fork. My favorite socially acceptable way to eat them is arranged prettily atop a homemade pizza. Other nice (and civilized) ways to enjoy anchovies include pissaladiere, bagna cauda, and pasta puttanesca.Won't you join me for dinner?

Amuse (Bouche) Me ~ Stuffed Black Olives with Gremolata

2009-08-12T23:07:00.009-04:00

We're now heading toward the far side of summer and it's finally starting to get hot around here. Not that I'm delighted by the prospect of sweating, but it's nice to know that now perhaps my luscious little grape tomatoes will start getting ripe en masse instead of two or three at a time. In the meantime, I'm making daily trips to the garden to see what is coming to fruition, and it's fairly slim pickings. Lots of mint, lots of chives, not much else.

But the tomato plants are loaded with tiny green globes of potential, and my parsley and basil are actually prospering, for the first time ever, having managed thus far to resist the advances of herb-craving gastropods.

And that's mighty good news because having a large supply of fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley means that I've got my own wellspring of gremolata, and that helps me forgot a whole heap of woes ~ slugs, sluggish tomatoes, and even 90-degree weather with humidity measured in matching digits.

So, what exactly is gremolata? Essentially, it's a fresh herb seasoning traditionally used in Italian cuisine as a finishing condiment for osso bucco. Gremolata is excellent sprinkled over any kind of roasted meat or poultry, soup, or stew. It's very low in fat and adds a bright, citrusy flavor without contributing significant calories.

One of my favorite ways to eat gremolata ~ and trust me, there are many of them ~ is in this hors d'oeuvre (or amuse bouche, depending on how you'd like to serve it): Stuffed Black Olives with Gremolata. I used slivers of quartered pearlini to stuff my olives here, but feel free to use whatever cheese makes you happy (and complements the olives and gremolata without stealing the show). You won't want to make this very far in advance ~ the cheese tends to break down and you will probably be tempted to eat all the olives before the actual dish gets served. It comes together so quickly, though, you won't need to worry about much advance prep. Go ahead and chop your parsley and zest your lemon, but save the rest of the assembly for no more than 30 minutes before serving time.

Delicious with a glass of wine and a fresh baguette!

Gremolata

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
1 tablespoon lemon zest
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups pitted black olives
1/4 cup pearlini, quartered, or other mild cheese to fill olives
Extra-virgin olive oil for drizzling
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

To make gremolata: In a small bowl, combine parsley, lemon zest, and garlic; toss to combine and set aside.

Stuff each olive with a sliver of cheese. Place olives in a medium mixing bowl, sprinkle with gremolata, and drizzle with olive oil; toss to coat evenly. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, and toss again. Serve immediately or chill for up to 30 minutes.

Makes about 2 cups

Playing It Safe

2009-07-30T23:16:00.006-04:00

With food-borne illnesses and their sometimes dire consequences constantly in the news these days, you might have more than just a casual interest in taking a proactive approach to protecting yourself and your loved ones from these pathogens. I've recently been participating in an online course designed to result in earning a food-hygiene certificate. Even though I live in the U.S. and this course is based in the U.K., I've yet to experience any cultural disconnect ~ salmonella is salmonella, and undercooked eggs or unwashed hands are just as hazardous on any continent.

So far, I like the course. It's pleasantly illustrated and easy to follow. Topics covered include everything from food law to food preservation and storage to personal and workspace hygiene. Periodic quizzes keep you on your toes. It's a painless way to learn about the basics of food hygiene and sanitation, and I encourage you to visit the site and explore a little. Even if you don't cook in a professional or certified kitchen, you'll benefit from knowing how to keep your kitchen and its eqipment in the best and safest condition possible.

Farfalle with Pearlini and Tomatoes

2009-07-28T21:29:00.013-04:00

Summertime is not my favorite time for cooking elaborate meals. My under-air-conditioned kitchen gets seriously hot, and while I can take it, strangely enough, my family seems less enthusiastic. Experience has taught me that they'd rather eat a bowl of cold cereal than sweat through a roast and mashed potatoes. So, I rely on lots of fresh vegetables, herbs, and ingredients that don't need a lot of heat to prepare. This pasta dish is one of my favorites this year.

This meal comes together so quickly, once your pasta water comes to a boil, you can have it on the table in 15 minutes. It makes use of one of my new absolute favorite ingredients: fresh mozzarella pearlini. I. Love. This. Stuff. I literally daydream about it, thinking about the salad I'm having for lunch, studded with gleaming white pebbles of deliciousness, concocting recipes to use up the industrial-size containers I've managed to find ~ joy! ~ at my local warehouse club.

Although I was really, really hoping to have some homegrown tomatoes at this point in the season, so far I'm still waiting. My two St. Nicholas grape tomato plants (my favorite all-purpose tomato for culinary use) are loaded down with bright green fruit and yellow blossoms, each plant now a good foot taller than me. But not a single tomato is ripe enough to eat yet. It's rained nearly every day since . . . since at least the beginning of June. We've had sun, true, but just not enough to get some color into those tomato cheeks. So, I buy locally grown tomatoes, or open up a can of petite diced tomatoes. Both will work just fine.

My basil, on the other hand, is flourishing this year. Last year, a phalanx of snails devoured the entire crop. This year, I put my plants in a sunnier spot, surrounded them with marigolds, and no slug damage yet. I like to throw in some black olives, but you can leave them out if your prefer. In my opinion, the star of this dish really is the pearlini ~ miniature balls of fresh mozzarella no bigger than blueberries. I have a vegetarian at my table, so this dish relies on the pearlini for protein. If you like, though, feel free to toss in some sauteed or grilled shrimp or scallops. Use good-quality olive oil for the best flavor. As far as the pasta shapes, I like orecchiette or farfalle, but any ruffled or flattish shape would do just fine. In a pinch, I'd use linguine too.

Faralle with Pearlini and Tomatoes

1/2 pound farfalle (I like Barilla's Piccolini pasta line)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups diced tomatoes with juice (fresh or canned)
1/4 cup pitted black olives
4 tablespoons chiffonade-cut fresh basil, divided
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup pearlini
1/4 cup shredded Parmesan cheese, for garnish

Cook farfalle according to package directions. While pasta is cooking, heat olive oil in a large saucepan or deep skillet over medium heat. Saute minced garlic in olive oil till just golden. Carefully add tomatoes and juice, stirring to combine. Lower heat to medium-low and let tomatoes simmer for about 5 minutes. Stir in olives and 3 tablespoons basil. Let simmer for an additional minutes; season with salt and pepper.
Drain pasta and add to tomato mixture; remove from heat. Sprinkle pearlini over pasta and toss to mix. Cover and let stand 5 minutes to melt pearlini slightly. Divide pasta among 4 serving bowls and sprinkle each with 1 tablespoon of Parmesan cheese and some basil. Serve immediately.

Serves 4.

Recipe Notes:

Don't worry if you can't find pearlini. Use bocconcini, halved, or just dice up a block of fresh mozzarella
Be careful not to melt the pearlini all the way. It will still taste fine, but it's charming to serve the dish with the little mozzarella nuggets visible among the pasta.

A review, and a chance to win

2009-07-23T00:03:00.003-04:00

If you're feeling a little peckish and you'd like a chance to win a $100 gift card, why not mosey over to my reviews-only site ~ Tuppence Reviews ~ and read my two-cents review of the new Crackerfuls from Ritz? I'm giving away one of these gift cards, and my fellow BlogHer reviewers are giving away 7 others, so the odds of winning are looking pretty sweet. Go, see! And good luck!

July 4, 2009 - Happy Independence Day!

2009-07-05T21:35:00.006-04:00

Happy 4th of July, stateside readers! I'm on vacation for the weekend, and although I'm doing a little cooking here and there (cobbler made from freshly picked cherries for dessert on the 4th; roasted cauliflower to accompany barbecued chicken), I'm mainly just enjoying some downtime (and fireworks) with my family, eating no-fuss food off the grill and going out for locally made ice cream.

Here in New England, it's ice-cream country. Locals, and repeat visitors, know to order a single (never a triple, unless its dinner and you skipped lunch), and to ask for a cup instead of a cone, unless you can lick really fast. There are some flavors that are totally unique to this area, which we just don't have back home in New York. Because of this, I justify my at-least-once-a-day indulgence as "fieldwork." For example, Grapenuts, Frozen Pudding, and Indian Pudding are, to the best of my knowledge, strictly New England dips. Which is not to say I've ever actually eaten any of these three classics. I haven't. That's mainly because I can't get over my profound attraction to the Maine Tracks (vanilla base, peanut butter cups, fudge ribbon) and Tornado (vanilla base, Oreos, M&M'S, chocolate chip cookies, Heath Bars) flavors. But I feel sort of obligated to get to know these traditional old standbys, especially since this is my 21st consecutive year vacationing here.

So, as my vacation draws to a close and I've managed to branch out only as far as the Caramel Turtle Cluster, it looks like I'll be trying to re-create these flavors at home for the present. The only problem is, I have no idea what they should taste like. Which is why I'm putting out the all-call for your suggestions. Got a great recipe for Frozen Pudding? Send me a link! I'd love to hear all about the Indian Pudding ice cream your aunt Peg used to make . . . or that you make as an adult in New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Maine.

I'd love to make one of each of these flavors and post them here, the New England Ice Cream Trifecta.

Until then, maybe you'd like to try one of these to help satisfy your cravings for sweet, cold, and creamy: Fresh Strawberry Gelato, Pomegranate Punch Sorbet, Kiwifruit Sorbet, or Fresh Peach Sorbet.

Happy July, wherever you are!

Fresh Bay Leaf and Ginger Ice Cream

2009-06-11T08:51:00.007-04:00

I’ve never made beef stew without a couple of bay leaves tossed in, and I’ve made scores of soups and sauces with them too. An element of the classic bouquet garni, bay leaves are a staple spice shelf item.

It wasn’t until recently, however, that I had the completely novel and utterly pleasurable experience of trying fresh bay leaves. If you, like me, think you are familiar with the flavor of bay but haven’t tried the fresh leaf, you are missing out on an entire dimension of this incredible spice.

Dried, the bay leaf is intense and full bodied. It can combine with assertive agents like juniper berries and garlic without losing its presence, and it holds its own against beef, lentils, tomatoes, and even game. Fresh, the bay leaf has a sweet, almost delicate flavor that I wouldn’t even think to pair with rich stewed meats. To me, the taste resembles most that of freshly ground nutmeg, with a hint of something slightly different ~ almost minty, but not quite.

I knew right away that cream and ginger were the flavor components I would use to showcase these beautiful green leaves. Cream to provide a broad, blank canvas and because the fat would really hold the flavor. Ginger, because it was just like enough to enhance, and unlike enough to be a foil for, the exotic quality of the bay.

I chose to make ice cream mainly because I really like ice cream. But I imagine this flavor combination would go over equally well as a crème brulee or a pastry cream to fill tarts or even as a custard or sabayon with fruit.

Try this out on your family and friends ~ but see if they can guess the flavors. Ginger is a given, especially with those succulent chunks of crystallized ginger studding the cream. But if anyone guesses correctly and names fresh bay, you’ll know you have a true connoisseur on your hands!

Fresh Bay Leaf and Ginger Ice Cream

~Ginger custard base recipe adapted from Bruce Weinstein's wonderful Ultimate Ice Cream Book.

3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 piece fresh ginger, about 4 inches long
10 to 12 fresh bay leaves
1 cup whole milk
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons minced crystallized ginger

Peel fresh ginger and cut into 1/2-inch slices. Using the back of a soup spoon or small ladle, apply gentle pressure to the center (or belly) of each bay leaf, just bruising it so that it releases more of its fragrant oils upon steeping. Place milk, cream, fresh ginger, and bay leaves in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan and bring just to the boil over medium heat. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 20 minutes.
In a nonreactive mixing bowl, combine eggs, sugar, and cornstarch. Whisk until creamy and well combined.
When the cream mixture has finished steeping, remove ginger pieces and bay leaves with a slotted spoon and return the pan to the stove. Heat, stirring, over medium heat just until bubbles begin to form at the sides. Temper the eggs by slowly pouring the hot milk mixture in a thin stream into the beaten eggs while whisking continuously. Pour the entire mixture back into the pot and return to the stove.
Heat the milk-and-egg mixture over low heat, stirring constantly with a whisk. Don't whip it (you don't want it to get foamy), but gently move the whisk (or even a wooden spoon) steadily through the pan. Be sure to make contact with the bottom of the pan so the mixture doesn't scorch there.
When the custard mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, remove it from the heat and pass it through a strainer into a large heatproof container. Cool for 15 minutes, then add the cream and the vanilla extract. Refrigerate the ice cream base in a covered container at least 3 hours or overnight before churning.
Churn the custard base according to the directions that apply to your ice-cream machine. When the ice cream is nearly frozen but still somewhat soft, scatter bits of crystallized ginger over it while the machine is running. Alternatively, you can fold it in with a large rubber spatula after the ice cream is finished churning.
Freeze in a tightly sealed, airtight container for for 2 to 3 hours to firm up and allow flavors to ripen, then enjoy!

Recipe Notes:

There are several varieties of laurel, but only the bay leaf, Laurus nobilis, is suitable for consumption. Don’t eat your hedges!
Try this ice cream alongside warm apple crisp or pumpkin pie when autumn comes along. The nutmeg-like flavor is a perfect match.
Do not allow your custard base to come to a boil or you’ll end up with scrambled eggs. If you do start to get clumps of congealed custard at the bottom of your pan, just remove it from the heat and whisk briskly. Strain through a fine sieve to remove any remaining lumps.
You can buy dried bay leaves at the grocery store in little jars, but it’s far cheaper to get them at a health food store, if yours carries herbs in bulk. Look for fresh bay leaves at specialty markets, or better yet, consider getting a potted bay laurel plant for your home or garden (climate permitting).

Cherry Berry Granola

2009-05-29T10:06:00.002-04:00

When I had a craving for some homemade granola but no handy recipes, my faithful foodie Twitter pals came to my rescue, showering me with wonderful suggestions and helpful links. Each recipe looked better than the previous one, and I was unable to choose one single version to try. So I printed out a handful, lined them up on my countertop, and chose the best elements from each one, adding a few of my own favorite touches here and there, to create a whole new recipe.

I love to combine honey and brown sugar, so both of those went in. I also like the way turbinado sugar adds a bit of crunch, so I threw some of that in there too. I used small proportions of each of these sweeteners, so the end result is not all that sweet. Crunchy almonds are great for providing body and substance, but they can actually be pretty subtle in flavor ~ a small boost from a tiny bit of almond extract brings them to the forefront.

I added sesame seeds for another layer of flavor, and a bit of vegetable oil to make the mix a bit more supple. You can omit it, but the oat mixture seemed a little dry to me without some oil, since it uses only 1/4 cup of honey as a liquid agent. The end result isn’t oily at all, so I was very pleased with the outcome.

The beauty of granola is that you can add (or omit) whatever you want, or whatever you happen to have on hand. Customize your mix to suit your moods, the seasons, your kids’ picky palates, whatever. Enjoy!

Cherry Berry Granola

3 cups rolled oats
1 cup almonds, roughly chopped
1 cup walnuts, roughly chopped
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup honey
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar
1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup dried cherries
1/2 cup dried cranberries

In a large mixing bowl, combine the oats, nuts, brown sugar, honey, oil, sesame seeds, turbinado sugar, almond extract, cinnamon, and salt. Toss to coat all ingredients.
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F. Grease a large rimmed baking sheet with the tablespoon of butter. Pour oat mixture out onto baking sheet and use a spatula to smooth it down, covering the entire sheet. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes at 250 degrees F, stirring the oat mixture every 15 minutes. The mixture will turn golden brown and dry out as it bakes. It will firm up as it cools.
Leave on baking sheet until completely cool, then pour into a large container with a tightly fitting lid. Add cherries and cranberries and stir to combine. Will keep for at least a week at room temperature ~ if it lasts that long.

Recipe Notes:

You want a nice slow oven for this ~ gradually, the liquid in the honey will dry out, the sugars will melt, and the oil will be absorbed, binding the ingredients into delicious sweet, nutty nuggets.
You can add whatever dried fruit you like to this. Try raisins, chopped dried apricots, apple or banana chips, dried raspberries or blueberries ~ whatever your heart (and palate) desires. Just be sure to add your fruit in after baking, once your mix has cooled. Otherwise, it will become leathery and tough.
Got a sweet tooth? Add in M&M’S, chocolate chips, peanut butter or butterscotch baking chips, chocolate-covered peanuts, chocolate- or yogurt-covered raisins.
Want to sneak in some more protein? Try adding sunflower seeds, chopped hazelnuts, pignoli nuts, chopped pecans, wheat germ, soy nuts, or roasted peanuts.

Wild Mushroom Agnolotti with Balsamic Browned Butter Sauce

2009-05-15T09:26:00.002-04:00

Home cooks take note ~ this is one dish you’ll want to add to your permanent file. It’s deceptively delicious and incredibly fast. You can use the sauce (made from ingredients you probably have in your pantry, or can easily stock there) on other types of ravioli, and this is pretty much fail-proof. Plus, it’s good enough to serve to company.

Browning the butter makes magic on its own, but adding a little balsamic vinegar simply transports this dish. Don’t take my word for it, this is one you’ll have to try for yourself.

Wild Mushroom Agnolotti with Balsamic Browned Butter Sauce

1 package (9 ounces) Wild Mushroom Agnolotti by Buitoni
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch crushed red pepper flakes
3 tablespoons chopped walnuts or pecans, toasted
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Cook ravioli according to package directions; drain and keep warm.
While the ravioli are cooking, melt butter in a sauté pan large enough to accommodate the ravioli, over medium heat, stirring occasionally. When the butter begins to turn golden brown, remove pan from heat and let sit for about 1 minute. Whisk in vinegar, salt, and red pepper flakes.
Place ravioli in butter sauce in pan, turning gently to coat. Warm over low heat, then pour out onto serving platter. Sprinkle with toasted walnuts and Parmesan cheese and serve immediately.

Makes 2 servings.

Recipe adapted from Giada de Laurentiis.

Recipe Notes

I used Buitoni’s new Riserva-line mushroom Agnolotti, which were plump and delicious and I recommend seeking them out. If you’d prefer, you can use cheese, spinach, squash, or even chicken ravioli. Or try this simple sauce over ricotta or potato gnocchi!
This sauce tastes much fancier than its ingredients suggest. Don’t substitute any other vinegar ~ balsamic has the perfect balance of sweetness and acid to make this work. You may be the only one who knows what “that incredible flavor in the sauce” is!
Real butter for this one, please. You need to brown the butter for flavor, so do use the real deal.

Marshmallow Sauce

2009-04-27T22:22:00.010-04:00

Let's say you have made a big, delicious batch of strawberry gelato. And although you've enjoyed it on its own, you've started to wonder how it would work in sundae form. You don't want to eclipse the brightness of the fresh strawberry flavor with something as assertive as hot fudge, so you think, Hmm, how about marshmallow sauce?

You pull out your favorite cookbook for ice cream toppings and read the recipe for marshmallow sauce. You see it includes gelatin, which is a no-go for a member of your family who is an enthusiastic fan of (a) marshmallow sauce, (b) strawberry gelato, and (c) eating food in most forms, but who is a vegetarian.

You decide to read up on marshmallow sauce and see if it's possible to adapt a recipe for vegetarian consumption. Good news ~ it is!

This recipe, which I adapted from this one from What's Cooking America, produces a marshmallow sauce that is so close to store-bought it's amazing. It's absurdly simple to make, and the result is light, fluffy, spreadable, and ooey-gooey. The recipe does, however, call for a raw egg white, so depending on your comfort level about such things, this may not be the recipe for you. I tend to be extremely cautious about such things (you can ask my husband ~ he'll tell you I tend to cook pork chops and chicken breasts to a state of doneness called "jerky"), but I am okay with the little bit of egg white in this recipe for reasons I describe in the recipe notes. If you're not, please skip this one ~ trust me, the gelato is very nice on its own.

Marshmallow Sauce

1 egg white
3/4 cup light corn syrup
Pinch salt
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract, or 1/2 teaspoon vanilla and 1/2 teaspoon coconut extract

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the whip attachment affixed, combine egg white, corn syrup, and salt. Whip the corn-syrup mixture on high speed until it is light, fluffy, and roughly twice its original volume.
Turn your mixer off and spoon in the confectioner's sugar. Beat on low speed until sugar is blended into the corn syrup mixture. Add vanilla and beat in.

Spoon marshmallow sauce over ice cream; use it as a fondue for chocolate-covered graham crackers, fruit, and cookies; or top a peanut butter sandwich with it. Refrigerated, it will keep for about 2 weeks.

Makes about 2 cups of sauce.

Recipe Notes

The USDA recommends that raw eggs not be consumed due to the risk of contracting salmonella poisoning. That said, if you are a daring and reckless sort who plays it fast and loose and you want to try this recipe, there are a few things you can do to minimize your risk (if you care to). Purchase Grade AA eggs from a reputable (i.e., "clean") source (ideally a local farm), do not use any eggs with cracked or damaged shells, refrigerate your eggs at a consistent temperature of about 38 degrees F, and wash your eggs with soapy water before cracking them. This will prevent bacteria present on the shell from contaminating the yolk and white.
It is possible to purchase pasteurized eggs. They come in a variety of forms ~ in the shells, in cartons, as yolks or whites only. These have been treated with heat, but not cooked, to kill bacteria.
Young children, the elderly, pregnant women, and people with compromised immune systems are discouraged from eating raw eggs at all.

Fresh Strawberry Gelato

2009-04-21T22:20:00.003-04:00

I was in Sorrento, Italy, the very first time I had gelato. It had been hot that day ~ beastly, brutally hot ~ and even now, at twilight, heat still radiated up from the sidewalk, which had baked in the Mediterranean sun all day. My husband and I were taking a walk down the sloping street leading away from our hotel. The faintest whisper of a cooling breeze was starting to come in off the water, and it was heavenly.

Farther along, down a street of shops and cafes, we spotted a line of people so long that it snaked around the corner and out of sight. The group was too diverse to be waiting outside a nightclub. Smartly dressed seniors mingled with jeans-clad teens; snuggling couples waited alongside jostling families.

Curious, we walked closer. Ah. It was a gelateria, and it was packed. This being the early 1990s, when gelato was just starting to make inroads into the American dessert scene, we took our places at the back of the line, expecting to find the Italian equivalent of hand-dipped ice cream.

We were right, and wrong. The gelato we ate that night was similar in many ways to the ice cream we were familiar with. As expected, it was sweet, creamy, and blessedly frozen. One big difference, however, was the portion size. In New York, or anywhere in Dairy Country, USA, you can order your hard ice cream in scoops that are designated "small," "medium," or "large." But everyone knows these are just the polite terms for the real sizes: "baseball," "softball," and "tetherball."

In Sorrento, the gelato scoops balanced delicately atop our improbably narrow cones were the size of golf balls. I would be lying if I said that the first thought that flung itself into my mind wasn't something akin to "The sample spoonfuls at Baskin Robbins are bigger than this!" But oh, the flavor! Amaretto, kiwi, pineapple, espresso. So intense! So true. This was more like sorbet than ice cream. I’m a big supporter of chunks in my ice cream, but this smooth, perfect gelato was so absolutely authentic in its essential flavor that I barely missed my peanut-butter cups and toffee bar crumbles. And no clunky chocolate chips, either ~ this gelato was flecked with rich dark-chocolate stracciatella. And it rocked.

I have never forgotten that gelato, and now that I make my own, I use it as the benchmark for what I want to achieve with my frozen desserts. Yes, I do love a chunky and complicated mix of nuts and candy and sweet heavy cream. But as my tastes become gradually more refined, I'm striving to combine my New York State sensibility with my appreciation for the finer nuances of the elegant Italian-style gelato. How? Bigger bowls.

Fresh Strawberry Gelato

~ Adapted from the May 2009 issue of Bon Appétit, p. 115

3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 cup whole milk
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 1/4 cups sliced ripe strawberries, cleaned and hulled
2 tablespoons pomegranate juice (I used Pom)

Prepare an ice bath by filling a large stainless-steel mixing bowl with halfway with ice and adding water. Place a clean, dry stainless steel bowl into the bowl filled with ice. Set aside.
Combine sugar and cornstarch in a heavy-bottomed medium saucepan, stirring to combine. Whisk in milk, then cream. Place saucepan over medium heat and whisk continuously until the cream mixture bubbles and begins to thicken ~ about 5 to 8 minutes. Pour the gelato base into the bowl resting atop the ice bath; stir the mixture occasionally so that it cools evenly.
Puree the strawberries in a blender or food processor. If desired, pour through strainer into gelato base. (I didn't strain my mix; strawberry seeds are tiny and I don't object to them.) Add pomegranate juice and stir to combine. Remove from water bath, dry bottom of bowl, cover and chill until the gelato base is completely cold, about 3 hours.
When the base is thoroughly chilled, process in ice cream machine according to manufacturer's directions. Transfer to a chilled container with a tightly fitting lid. Freeze, covered, for at least 3 hours prior to serving. Let stand at room temperature for 10 minutes to soften slightly before scooping.

Makes about 1 quart.

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