Archive Page 13

save your tarts

Published January 14, 2011 pig slop , soups & stews 4 Comments
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I have a confession to make. In all the time I have spent in the kitchen, I have never made minestrone soup. Ever. I mean doesn’t it seem like that should be some sort of prerequisite? Truth be told, I have only eaten minestrone soup a handful of times. I don’t know, its just never really jumped out at me. But then, a few weeks ago, I perusing one of my favorite coffee table books – M.F.K. Fisher’s The Art of Eating – and I came across something that intrigued me. I should note that I find a lot of intriguing bits in this hefty volume. This is a book that pretty much has a permanent home on or around the couch, as it is the only way I will ever get through all 749 pages of it. I love picking it up for a quick escape – Fisher’s style, wry sense of humor, and culinary opinions are such a refreshing treat. And it’s the type of book you can open to just about any page and start reading. Which is what I did the other week. And here is what Mary Frances has to say about minestrone.

“Probably the most satisfying soup in the world for people who are hungry, as well as for those who are tired or worried or cross or in debt or in a moderate amount of pain or in love or in robust health or in any kind of business huggermuggery, is minestrone.”

Clearly, I have been missing out on something. Why have I not made this soup? So I tagged it with one of my favorite little sticky notes. And then I went to go look up “huggermuggery” in the dictionary: 1. disorderly confusion; muddle 2. secrecy, concealment. I’ve yet to throw it out conversationally, but I’m working on it.

Back to the soup. M.F.K. has plenty to say on the subject and debates the merits of a water base versus bean broth, which some actually say is not a minestrone at all, but a minestra – who knew? Bacon, or ham, or no meat at all, pasta, no pasta? I have so much catching up to do in world of minestrone! Fisher goes on to quote Mrs. Mazza, who wrote “a plate of this pottage, topped with grated Romano, served with crisp garlicked sour-dough bread, a salad and a glass of wine, and I have dined.” And although Fischer evidentially had her disagreements with Mrs. Mazza regarding the preparation, she does give her this much: “For the rest of the meal, Mrs. Mazza and I are one. There is no point doing much else, the night you make minestrone, because nobody will eat anything else anyway. Save your tarts for a leaner hungrier night.” That’s it. I was sold. Minestrone was in my future.

So after a particularly arduous day this past week, I knew the time had come. I rounded up onions, potatoes, celery, cabbage, carrots, garlic, greens, and a bit of bacon. Then I poured a glass of wine, put on some Buddy Guy, and got to work. I pretty much followed M.F.K.’s recipe – which is always a hoot, in and of itself. I adapted it here and there, but what follows is her original recipe. It’s a treasure. And yes, I felt remarkably better after eating a bowl of warm minestrone. It fed us for several meals, and the last of it just went into the freezer for the next time I get involved in a little huggermuggery.

A Basic Minestrone
from M.F.K. Fisher’s How to Cook a Wolf

1/2 pound bacon or salt pork
1 small onion chopped
1 stalk chopped celery
1 handful chopped parsley
2 cups tomatoes, peeled
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon oregano

Soften the onion in the heated meat-fat, add celery, parsley and herbs, and stir for 10 minutes to make a glaze, adding a little water if necessary. Add the tomato, stirring constantly and taking care not to burn. Stir in 2 or 3 quarts of water. Add a little mace if you like it. (At which point she quips…This soup is fun, because it’s so malleable!)

Put at least the first five of the following vegetables through the fine grinder of the vegetable chopper. OR cut them not too finely, let them simmer until tender, and then mash well with a potato masher before you add any pasta. I like this method better than the one I gave before. (Amusing that she still gives the vegetable chopper method then!)

2 large onions
1 potato, skin and all
1/2 small cabbage (Savoy preferably)
3 carrots
6 stalks celery
some spinach…say a big handful
some green beans…the same
You see what I mean?

Bring the whole thing slowly to a boil, and then let simmer until the vegetables are very tender. Add some pasta twenty minutes before serving if you like (not until the next day if you plan to use the minestrone more than once). Churn the soup ferociously, and serve over thin toasted bread or not, but always with a good ample bowl of grated dry cheese to sprinkle upon each serving, as the pleased human who eats it may desire.

*Note: I was most befuddled by the instructions to “churn the soup ferociously.” Maybe I made some huge minestrone faux pas, but I opted to give it a few pulses with the immersion blender. I also set the bottle of red wine vinegar on the table with the parmesan cheese. Both were magnificent additions.

love people

Published January 7, 2011 pig brain 5 Comments
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Santa was good to me this year. He brought all the right things. My husband Mark did a marvelous job at tipping him off. I was giddy after opening an odd shaped, cleverly wrapped package that revealed a bright red rolling pin. A red rolling pin! I don’t really need another rolling pin, nor do I really have the space in our little kitchen to store another rolling pin. But a red rolling pin! I love it. I’ll make room.

I was equally overjoyed when I discovered an antique comb honey dish under the tree. I’m not sure why, but comb honey has sort of fallen out of favor over the last few decades. It used to be the only way my grandpa’s generation ate honey. And I know why. A thin slice of honey comb melds perfectly with almost anything. It melts into sweet oblivion on a piece of warm buttered toast. It sparks up a slice of fine cheese like nobody’s business. It makes perfect chewing gum. We take it on camping trips and slice off hunks of it for times when we need an energy boost (it also keeps us in good with the bears). And the comb itself – which is loaded with enzymes, vitamins, and amino acids – is quite healthy.

Every August during my pilgrimage to the Minnesota State Fair, I spend a significant portion of my visit in the honey room – watching demonstrations, marveling at the prize winning honeys, cataloging new ideas for honey baked goods, and ogling over the displays of vintage comb honey dishes. Most have bees, flowers, and pretty patterns worked into the glass. They are elegant, yet still sturdy and functional – my favorite combination in tableware. And now I am the proud keeper of one. My dish has a relief of bees around it with a sunflower radiating out from the stemmed handle. What’s more, it is the perfect shade of pink! And I’m delighted at how it catches the morning light from the kitchen window. Quite an upgrade from the shabby tupperware that used to house our honeycomb. (I regret that there is not a fresh, new slab of honeycomb in the dish for the photo, but that required more planning than I could muster.)

There were plenty of other fun little gifts to be had this Christmas, but one that I keep thinking about in particular is a bumper sticker that my mom put in my stocking. It’s about as plain as a bumper sticker can get – just a roughly scribbled big yellow heart in the middle, overlaid with the words “Love People. Cook them tasty food.” I like it for several reasons, the simplicity of its design for one. But certainly for the message. It’s nothing terribly profound, yet in some ways it is. It feels so real, so attainable. Finally, a bumper sticker I can get my head around.

I have a tendency to get pretty overwhelmed with the world and our current state of affairs. Stories of poverty, hatred, cruelty, injustice, and discrimination hit me hard. And leave me feeling quite helpless. The only way I know to cope is to reign the most disturbing aspects of reality back down into my little sphere, my little place on this earth, and ask what I can do to make a difference. And here is one more answer for me. I can love people. I can cook them tasty food.

local trifecta

Published January 1, 2011 dark days , pig slop , soups & stews 5 Comments
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When I think back on the last few weeks of eating, there are three meals that stand out. Three little respites amidst all of the holiday parties, gatherings, and feasts. And to think I was actually a bit skeptical as to how I would fit these particular meals into our hectic December schedule. I’m so glad I managed. These noteworthy delights were our weekly, Dark Days Challenge, 50-mile radius, local meals.

And in fact, the first of these three meals – Curried Root Vegetable Stew with Dumplings – wasn’t only a standout in recent memory, but one I’d claim as a top runner for all of 2010. It will certainly make the rounds at our table again. The recipe is from Molly O’Neill via the Essential New York Times Cookbook and originally appeared in the Times in 1994. It has that perfect blend of sweet and savory, light and hearty. My one conundrum was making the dumplings using my local flour, which is 100% whole wheat. They worked, but they were definitely on the sturdy side and not the most attractive dumpling I’ve ever had bobbing in my stew. It made me ponder how the cooks of my great-grandmother’s era managed to pull off lighter flour based goods. Maybe they didn’t. Or maybe they hand separated the wheat bran and germ to yield a lighter flour. I wasn’t that ambitious.

I also baked a rustic and flavor filled Olive Oil and Apple Cider Cake from the same cookbook to accompany the stew. It was a welcome departure from the overly sweet treats that December typically offers up. Again, I used all whole wheat flour, but in this particular cake, I think it worked well. The whole wheat added structure and a nuttiness that I appreciated. I also substituted honey for the white sugar the recipe called for.

Our fourth meal of the Challenge celebrated the much anticipated arrival of our local bacon. We get a pork share each winter from Hermit Creek Farm in Highbridge, WI. In addition to the most incredible tasting bacon I have ever had, the share includes a wonderful assortment of chops, roasts, sausages, fresh ham, and pork steaks. The thick, meaty bacon arrives a few weeks after everything else to allow for a good, slow cure in the smoker. So the afternoon we picked up our bacon, dinner was a no brainer – bacon sandwiches. Quick, easy, and hard to beat. They featured dried tomatoes from the summer garden, a homemade garlic aioli, and spicy micro greens on local cracked wheat bread.

Rounding out the trifecta was our last meal of the year. We had several tentative options for New Year’s Eve, but in the end we chose what I would almost always pick – we stayed in. Which felt like an especially fine choice once we heard the sound of freezing sleet beating against the windows. Earlier in the day I had ditched my fancy menu ideas in search of something more simple and grounded. Going local felt like the right thing to do. I settled on a crisp, clean, subtly sweet, parsnip soup to ring in the New Year. And it was the perfect choice. I based the soup on a recipe I bookmarked ages ago from the passionate cook’s blog. I dressed it up for the holiday with a bit of milk and cream and I topped it off with a hearty squeeze of fresh lemon juice (my non-local vice) and slivered roasted chestnuts (local via my mom in Lake City, MN).

We got the night started with some local chev topped with friend Linda’s homemade plum-delicious chutney and we closed out just past midnight with a dish of honey-nutmeg ice cream that I had made earlier in the day. Oh, and I guess I should mention the very fine bottle of bubbly that made its way to our table all the way from France. Not the least bit local, but we appreciated it for what it was – a true and rare treat.

Creamy Parsnip Soup

3 cups peeled and chopped parsnips (about 1/2 inch dice)
2 cloves crushed garlic
2 tablespoons butter
2 – 3 teaspoons honey
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
2 cups milk or cream (or a combination)

Toppings:
fresh squeezed lemon
roasted, slivered chestnuts

Melt the butter in a heavy soup pan, add the garlic and parsnips and cook for about 10 minutes until they both start turning a nice caramely brown. Add the honey and the stock, and continue to cook for about another 10 minutes or until the parsnips are tender. Purée the soup (either using a blender or immersion blender) and add the milk and/or cream. Heat through gently and taste for sweetness, adding a touch more honey if necessary (the lemon balances the sweetness perfectly). Season to taste with salt and pepper.

To roast chestnuts:
Score an “x” in each nut with a sharp knife. Roast the nuts on a baking sheet in a 350º F oven for about 30 – 45 minutes. Nuts should be fragrant, soft, and a bit chewy. Let cool slightly and peel away the outer shell. Slice thin.

Top the soup with a healthy squeeze of lemon juice and a scattering of chestnuts. Serves 4 as a first course, 2-3 as a main.

The nitty-gritty…

Dark Days m.3
Curried Root Vegetable Stew
Onions, garlic, carrots, parsnips, butternut squash – a substitute for sweet potatoes (our garden), celery root from Hermit Creek Farm (29 miles), chicken stock (homemade with garden vegetables and a local chicken), butter – homemade with Tetzner’s Dairy cream (15 miles), whole wheat flour from Maple Hill Farm (14 miles), curry powder (spices from a far, but handmade at our annual local curry making party), salt and pepper.

Dumplings
Whole wheat flour from Maple Hill Farm (14 miles), milk from Tetzner’s Dairy (15 miles) baking powder, salt, and mace.

Olive Oil and Apple Cider Cake
Apples from Bayfield Apple Company (4 miles), apple cider (pressed an preserved from our apple trees), whole wheat flour from Maple Hill Farm (14 miles), honey (my bees), eggs from a farm near Delta, WI (50 miles), olive oil, baking powder, and salt.

Dark Days m.4
Bacon Sandwiches
Bacon from Hermit Creek Farm (29 miles), re-hydrated dried tomatoes (our garden) spicy micro greens from Paradise Meadows (12 miles), garlic aioli (homemade from our garlic, a local egg, and olive oil), whole wheat bread made using 100% Spring Hill Farm wheat from Coco’s Bakery (12 miles)

Dark Days m.5
Chev Crisps with Plum Chutney
Herbed goat cheese from South Shore Chev (30 miles), plum chutney (homemade by my friend Linda with her plums), lavash flat bread from Coco’s Bakery – not really local ingredients, but a local business nonetheless. Homemade crackers are my next endeavor! (12 miles)

Creamy Parsnip Soup
Parsnips and garlic (our garden), butter – homemade with cream from Tetzner’s Dairy (15 miles), chicken stock (homemade with garden vegetables and a local chicken), milk and cream from Tetzner’s (15 miles)

Honey-Nutmeg Ice Cream
Milk and cream from Tetzner’s (15 miles), honey (my bees), salt and a dash of nutmeg

Curried Root Vegetable Stew with Dumplings
Adapted from The Essential New York Times Cookbook

2 teaspoons butter
1 onion, chopped
3 or more cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
4 cups vegetable broth
2 medium carrots, chunked
2 large parsnips, peeled and chunked
1 small celeriac root, trimmed and chunked
1 1/2 – 2 cups winter squash, peeled and chunked
3 tablespoons flour
2 teaspoons salt
ground pepper

Melt the butter in large stew pot. Add onions, cook for a few minutes. Stir in garlic and curry powder and cook for 30 seconds. Stir in broth, carrots, parsnips, and squash and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook for 15 minutes. Stir in the celery root and cook about 10 more minutes.

While the stew simmers, prepare the dumplings. Combine 1 cup flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, 3/4 teaspoons salt, and 1/2 teaspoon ground mace in a mixing bowl. Work in 2 tablespoons cold butter until a coarse meal forms. Mix in 1/4 cup dried currants. Stir in 6 tablespoons milk and mix until everything is just combined. On a lightly floured surface, shape the dumplings into 1-inch balls.

Back to the stew…remove 1/4 cup of the simmering stew liquid and mix in 3 tablespoons flour to make a smooth paste, then stir back into the stew. Add salt and pepper to taste. Place the dumplings in the simmering strew, cover, and cook for 15 minutes.

week 52

Published December 28, 2010 pig slop , sweets 3 Comments
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Finally. My favorite week of the year has arrived. I go out of my way to arrange my schedule so that I can more or less take the last week of each year off. It seems fair enough, doesn’t it? After 51 weeks of running around, working, playing, and juggling the affairs of day to day life, I think we all deserve a week of rest. I can’t recommend it enough.

This is the week of slow mornings with coffee and that new novel that was under the tree. This is the week I can even get away with slipping a splash of Bailey’s into my last cup of joe. It’s the week we give our dining room table over to building our annual 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. This is the week I make a bottomless pot of stew to see us through the last days of the year. And it’s the week we set out on late afternoon skis, often treating ourselves to a cold brew afterwards.

Which is not to say that this week is altogether hedonistic. I also try and take care of those random things that I don’t seem to get to on a regular basis. I clean out my work files – paper and electronic – to make a clean slate for the year ahead. I get more satisfaction than I probably should from vacuuming in all those strange little spaces that magically collect dust throughout the year. I go through my digital pictures and order a photo book that features the best of our year’s adventures. I try and tie up as many loose ends as I can so the new year ahead gets its own fair shake.

This is also the week I make time to truly contemplate the past 51 weeks of  living. My husband Mark and I have a tradition of sitting down together with our main house calendar to reminisce over the last 12 months. In addition to writing down all the meetings, appointments, and engagements we have, we also make a point to jot down the funny, sad, memorable, and even the mundane moments that make up our days. It makes for an enjoyable way to reflect on the year and it also helps me to think about the year that lies ahead and what I maybe want to do differently – or keep the same.

If you’re thinking this sounds like a pretty good week, wait. It gets better. The crème de la crème of week 52 is my mother’s toffee. I am not a huge sweet eater, but you’d never know it if you were to catch me around a tin of her toffee. I can’t stop. No restraint. None. And so this is the week when I don’t even try. I eat it whenever the mood strikes. Which means I generally have a piece with my morning coffee. And another when I sit down to puzzle for a bit. Afternoon tea at my desk wouldn’t be proper without it. I give myself permission to work my way through the entire tin of it. It’s everything toffee should be – crunchy, buttery and just a little salty. And it’s a cinch to make. With a good heavy pan and a candy thermometer, you can turn out a batch in about 20 minutes. I’d like to say that this toffee should not just be limited to the holidays, but due to my addiction, I generally do. It’s that good.

My mom has been making this toffee to give as holiday gifts for nearly 30 years. This recipe is based on a recipe that my mom got from a friend back in the 80’s. The original recipe calls for almonds, but I am especially fond of it with toasted hazelnuts (filberts). Try either, but do yourself and your loved ones a favor, and make a batch to close out 2010.

English Butter Toffee

1 cup raw filberts or almonds
1 cup salted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons water

Pre-measure:
1/2 tsp. soda
1 teaspoon vanilla (or a splash of dark rum – especially if you are going the hazelnut route)

6 ounces bitter-sweet (60% cocoa) or semi-sweet chocolate bits or bar
coarse sea salt

Lightly toast the nuts on a heavy baking sheet in a 400º F oven for about 10 minutes. Measure out the rest of the ingredients while the nuts are toasting. When the nuts smell fragrant, remove them from sheet and coarsely chop. Line the same baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper and spread half of the nuts over the tray. When it comes time to spread the toffee, it helps to have the cookie sheet a little warm. I generally pop the nut laden sheet back into the oven – which is off, but still warm from toasting the nuts – while the toffee cooks.

Combine the butter, sugars, and water in a heavy sauce pan over medium high heat and mix well. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Attach a candy thermometer to the pan and continue cooking and stirring until the mixture reaches 300º F (hard-crack stage). In the last few minutes of cooking, the mixture will turn a lovely dark caramel shade. Remove from heat and working quickly, stir in the soda and the vanilla. The mixture will froth up slightly as you add in the soda and vanilla.

Pour the mixture carefully over the slightly warmed tray of nuts. Spread the toffee around evenly with a heat-proof rubber spatula. Resist every temptation you have to prod, tug, or even it out it with your fingers – it will be incredibly hot and not very much fun (I speak from experience).

Let cool about 10 minutes. Sprinkle chocolate bits or shaved bar chocolate over toffee. Using a butter knife or spatula, spread out the chocolate evenly. Sprinkle the remaining nuts over chocolate and press in lightly. Top with a pinch of coarse sea salt. Cool. Break into pieces. Store in an airtight container. (Makes about 1 1/2 pounds)

what if

Published December 21, 2010 pig brain Leave a Comment
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I’m in a pre-holiday funk. And I’m not sure why. It’s positively gorgeous outside. Our little house surrounded by towering, snow capped pines could give Narnia a run for its money. And we’ve made it to the Solstice. Which means the days get lighter and brighter from here on out. Generally speaking, I’m a holiday kind of girl. I love this time of year and (almost) everything that comes with it. I blissfully indulge myself in elfish behavior. Nevertheless, here I am – in a pre-holiday funk.

I have a Christmas cactus that refuses to bloom in December. It seems to prefer October or November. I don’t even remember when, or why (other than to maybe give my cactus a good tease), but at some point I must have mixed a few impatient seeds around the base of the cactus. Because this morning as I was groggily en route to the coffee pot, a single bright coral blossom caught my attention and in the perkiest of voices it said “Hi!” I stopped and lifted my gaze to the window. The heavy snow that had started last night was still falling. I looked back to the tiny bloom that was eagerly craning itself towards the reflective light of the storm. Having never known the glorious effects of warm May sunshine, it had nothing to compare it to.

Which made me pause. What if I didn’t know I had two holiday parties, a dentist appointment, and a full day’s work to squeeze into the next 16 hours? What if I didn’t feel pressure to get a holiday card made and mailed before the big day? What if two trays of cookies is enough for this year? What if I didn’t feel the need to reciprocate every gift that is received – but to instead learn that simply saying “thank you” can be enough? And so what if that brilliant last minute present I thought of doesn’t show up in the mail on time?

What if, for today at least, all I knew was to reach for the light?

Happy Solstice.

entertaining 101

Published December 14, 2010 bread, crackers & sandwiches , pig slop 6 Comments
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I threw a dinner party for the record books last weekend. In hindsight, I should have seen the writing on the wall from the get-go. I broke my cardinal rule and got a late start cooking. But it was one of those days at work when nothing was going right and everything was taking twice as long as it should. So I literally sprinted to the kitchen, just a couple of hours ahead of the guests.
Evidentially my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day karma carried right on over into the kitchen. It took me two attempts (yes, two) to realize I was feebly trying to crack hard boiled eggs into the mixing bowl instead of soft. Once I finally got my hands on the right carton of eggs though, there was no stopping me. I got so carried away with my success that before I knew it, I had aded too many whites to the coconut macaroons. As if to somehow compensate for this, I left out the salt entirely. My carrots that were supposed to be chilling in an ice water bath to prevent sogginess ended up sitting out at room temperature all day.
Just forge on, I told myself. And then, I dropped a bottle of red on the tile floor. A ceramic floor shows no mercy – ever. I’ve even managed to break enamel cast iron cookware on our floor (twice). By the time I got the majority of wine mess cleaned up, my husband Mark was home. “One more thing,” I called from my unplanned bath, “and we’re calling out for pizza.”
I should learn to listen to myself better. Especially in times of duress.
I had somehow managed to take a quick break earlier in the day to get the naan –  that soft, oven-baked Indian flat bread prepped and rising. Midway through my workday, I remembered with a jolt that naan was to accompany the menu of spicy chile-cilantro grilled chicken and curried rice. I went downstairs to the kitchen and got it going with what I thought was going to be perfect timing. But it was particularly cold out, which means I felt the need to keep the house particularly warm. Which means the naan rose particularly fast. No worries, I thought. I’ll just punch it down again. Striving yet again for the perfect timing that would allow me to pop the breads into a 500ºF oven just minutes before sitting down at the table, I decided to give the dough a little goose of warm air by sliding the covered bowl gently behind the wood stove.
You know how sometimes things happen so fast you don’t actually know how they transpired? It was all in the timing. Mark stepped out on the deck to check the grill. I popped upstairs to get some extra stemware out of storage. Enter Mae West – our dog. With unprecedented deftness, she ate the entire bread bowl full of rising dough. I can’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure I was more distraught over what this was going to mean for the dog than I was about there being no naan for dinner. But before I had time to really mull it over, our guests arrived.
Our friend Linda, bless her heart, had her phone out before we could even finish telling the tale. She was calling her brother-in-law veterinarian in Reno, NV. David got the specifics, asked a few pertinent questions, and then advised that we induce vomiting. I got Linda set up at the bar taking drink orders while Mark, Mae West, and I proceeded out into the frigid darkness with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a turkey baster. We were only mildly successful with our attempts and West spent the remainder of the evening outside on the deck with a sort of woeful look on her face.
The beauty of having true-blue friends over is that they’ll excuse just about anything. And that they did. Dinner got on the table at least 2 hours later than planned. I rummaged through the freezer and found an assortment of odds and ends bread products to serve. The grilled chicken (thankfully) was glorious. The thick chile-cilantro marinade formed a crunchy, spicy crust that was a perfect warm-up for a cold night. The shredded carrots rallied, got themselves dressed up in a tangy sauce with dates and pistachios and seemed no worse for the wear. Everyone claimed to like the “extra chewiness” of the macaroons, but really I think they were just being kind.
The dog came in as our friends departed and headed straight upstairs to bed. We all survived, I sighed, crawling underneath the quilts. I drifted off and awoke in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of someone doing body slams against the floor. I wearily checked on the dog and came to the stellar conclusion that she must be highly uncomfortable.
It wasn’t until a few hours later when we were all up and about that we discovered the pooch was down and out drunk. She’s a big girl, but apparently not big enough to stave off the effects of a pool of fermenting yeast in her belly. (It was then that I remembered adding an extra hefty pinch of yeast to the dough – skeptical about its freshness.) Mark carried all 67 pounds of her down the spiral steps where she then proceeded to walk headlong into the wood stove. Back to the scene of the crime. We tried to get her quiet and comfortable – her poor head bobbing and weaving, even as she laid still. We got a local vet on the phone over coffee and learned she’d just have to sleep it off. Which is about what I felt like doing.
Disappearing Naan (based on a recipe from Julie Sahni)
1/2 cup yogurt (plain and preferably made with whole milk)
3/4 boiling water
1-2 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large egg
1/4 cup butter, melted
2 teaspoons fresh minced garlic
1 teaspoon dry yeast
3 cups flour (I like using 1 cup white whole wheat and 2 cups white)
2 teaspoons fresh minced garlic (optional)
Oil as needed 

Whisk together the yogurt, water, honey, and salt in a large bread bowl. Beat in the egg and melted butter and mix throughly. Sprinkle in the yeast. Give the yeast about five minutes or so to activate and bubble, and then stir in the flour. I use a firm plastic spatula to work in the flour. The dough is quite sticky at first. I keep kneading with the aid of the spatula blade until a less sticky dough ball begins to form. I then lightly oil my hands and switch to kneading by hand (in the bowl) until a smooth ball forms. All in all about 15 minutes. Lightly oil the bowl, cover, and let it raise undisturbed in a warm spot (free of dogs) until doubled in size – about 2-4 hours. You can punch the dough down and give it a shorter second rise if need be.

Punch down the dough and then gently knead for another few minutes to loosen it up. If you are using garlic, knead it in at this stage. Divide the dough into 8 equal portions and roll out each piece into about a 7-inch oval. Arrange in a single layer on 2 baking sheets and bake in a 500ºF oven until they begin to puff and brown – about 4 to 5 minutes.

Remove and brush with melted butter if desired. Serve quickly!

Naan is great with curries, tandoori dishes, kebabas, and soups. It’s also quite tasty for breakfast with a smear of butter and honey – especially the garlic naan.

 

dark days

Published December 10, 2010 dark days , from the lake , garden fare , pig slop 4 Comments
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My friend Julie and I recently decided to participate in the fourth annual Dark Days Challenge – which calls for us to prepare one fully locally derived meal per week from now until mid-April. We are indeed facing some dark days ahead. And thinking about food, where it comes from, how it is raised, and fun ways to cook what’s available locally is a sure way to distract me from the grey and darkness. Plus, Julie is a pro at this. A few years back, she engaged her family of four in six months of eating EVERY meal local. So I know I can turn to her anytime for inspiration and advice.

Here’s my set of self-determined rules. “Local” for me means anything grown or raised within a 50-mile radius. I gave a bit of thought to my radius and settled on a distance that I could self-propel myself. I have to admit that biking 50 miles to retrieve a fresh chicken is not exactly on my list of things to do, but if push came to shove, I could. Although I might have to spend the night at my destination before biking back – or at the very least stay for lunch!

My exceptions are olive oil, coconut oil, some spices, vinegar (although this has inspired me to make my own, but it won’t be ready in time), and butter (again, I have plans to churn my own using cream from our local dairy, but it will be Christmas time before I can borrow my grandmother’s old butter churn from my mom. In the meantime, I’ll continue using a fantastic hand rolled butter produced in Richland Center, WI – some 200 miles straight south of me.) And even though I know I could forego fresh lemon juice one night a week, there are times when I might give in. For me, a squeeze of fresh lemon is often the crowning touch that turns a good dish great. Were I to go completely local in my eating, I would go to great lengths to maintain an indoor lemon tree in my northern Wisconsin home. I am an occasional home brewer, so there will certainly be a batch of porter fermenting soon to help see us through the winter. I buy my grains from Northern Brewer in St. Paul (230 miles) but I suspect the grains’ actual origin is even a little further west than that (I’ll check). If other exceptions come up along the way, I’ll be sure to note them.
I’ve participated in a handful of local eating initiatives and for me the key is to focus on the things I CAN find locally and not dwell on the things that I can’t. Having to really think about where the food I am cooking has come from raises an awareness that I appreciate, and one that I too often take for granted. I feel incredibly fortunate to live in a midwestern, rural area and still have access to an amazing array of beautifully and happily produced food. In addition to the pounds of berries and vegetables (frozen and canned) and root crops from our garden, I know I’ll be able to find: fish, pork, chicken, beef, lamb, cheese, milk, cream, sprouts, kimchi, sauerkraut, maple syrup, honey (sort of a given), pop corn, wild rice (although it was a poor year for ricing and supplies are meager), wheat berries, and whole wheat flour. And I’m looking forward to a winter of discovering even more. Here’s a recap of our first two Dark Days, local meal. I’m happy to share recipes if anyone’s palate is piqued – just drop me a note.
Dark Days m.1
Broiled Lamb Chops
Lamb chops from Morning View Farm (37 miles), garlic (our garden), olive oil, lavender pepper, salt, and butter (Richland Center, WI)Sauteed Potatoes
Potatoes (our garden), butter (Richland Center, WI), oil, salt, pepper, spicy micro greens from Paradise Meadows (12 miles)

Warm Beet Salad
Beets (our garden), feta cheese from South Shore Chev (30 miles), spicy micro greens from Paradise Meadows (12 miles), vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper

Dark Days m.2
Trout sautéed in Brown Butter
Lake Superior lake trout (caught around the Apostle Islands, probably within a 20 mile range), butter (Richland Center, WI), garlic and shallots (our garden), topped with spicy micro greens from Paradise Meadows (12 miles)

Wild Rice Stuffed Squash
Sweet Dumpling squash (our garden), wild rice (50 miles give or take a few – hand harvested by friends near the Bayfield County line), feta cheese from South Shore Chev (30 miles), dried apples (our land), turkey broth (homemade with garden vegetables and a local turkey), scallions and garlic, (our land)

taste buds talk

Published December 5, 2010 bee yard 6 Comments
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One of the most thrilling aspects of bee keeping is having that first taste of each season’s honey. I’ve certainly been known to sneak some honey periodically throughout the summer, but generally I wait until the end of August to pull the honey supers off – which means I get a mix of everything the bees have foraged on all spring and summer. It always such a surprise to see what the girls have brought in each year.

I’ll never forget my very first honey crop and its delicate apple flavor. At the time, my bees were located in the heart of Bayfield’s “orchard district,” which meant no shortage of fruit blossoms to forage on. And then there was the harvest that had a decidedly minty undertone. That was the year when the basswood trees went crazy with blooms all summer long. I’ve pulled off late fall supers that are filled with the heady dark brown nectar from goldenrod and asters. And I’ve taken plenty of swipes of that gorgeous, light, early summer clover honey while working in the hives. But my main fall honey harvest is like a little mystery I get to try and crack each year. The color and taste of each super full of honey is my main clue to where the girls have been spending their summer afternoons.

So I couldn’t decide if I was more amused or distraught when I read an article in last Monday’s NY Times about several hives of New York bees who evidently spent their summer feeding on the sweet run off from a nearby maraschino cherry factory. The results were neon red frames of honey. The sort of gaudy red that only red dye number 40 can produce. Albeit shocking, it is a great example of how amazingly distinct honey can be, and how each honey is a direct link to what the bees are feeding on.

Foraging bees will travel up to 3 miles for food. And when they find something they like, word gets around quickly. Lets face it – taste buds talk, and bees are no exception. Bees not only have taste receptors on their tongues, but on their feet and legs as well (how cool is that?!). So who’s to fault them for choosing some manmade, red inflicted corn syrup over a fresh, dewy clover blossom? I’m no one to talk – I still have a soft spot for those cloyingly sweet cherries. They saw my brother and me through many a shirley-temple based cocktail hours as kids.

But unlike humans, bees shouldn’t have to know better. As a beekeeper, I feel a responsibility to keep my hives as healthy as I can. Yet I don’t think I could begrudge my girls their bliss should they happen to stumble upon some “junk” food. How lovely to go through life feasting on the best tasting things you can find in a 3-mile radius. I envy such simplicity.

no going back

Published November 28, 2010 pig slop , sweets 1 Comment

I am not a shopper. Black Friday came and went, my checkbook no worse for the wear. Last week, however, was another story. I sort of went on a bender. It all stated with my ice scrapper. I had gone out to finally liberate my car from the season’s first accumulation of ice and snow. And as if to emulate my feelings on that nippy morning, my favorite 3-inch triangle shaped ice scrapper shattered into about thirteen pieces when I touched it to the windshield. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

When I do shop, I prefer not to do it online, but sometimes, when you live in a town with a population of 600 on a peninsula in northern Wisconsin, it’s just easier. And this was serious. My winter unpreparedness had reached a critical peak. I went straight in and started shopping. It was either that or a plane ticket to Jamaica.

Here’s what came of it:

• An ice scrapper for each car, and although not quite as cool as my triangular model, they are at least made by a small U.S. company. As long as I was outfitting the cars, I also bought new snowbrushes. Whoever designed the two we have been limping by with has clearly never been through a respectable snowstorm. The new ones are made in Canada – a safe bet.

• New snow boots. Last April my ten-year-old Columbias literally broke in half. At the time I could think of no better way to usher in spring than to throw them ceremoniously in the trash – all with a satisfied smirk. I haven’t thought about them since. Until now. So four trial pairs of boots went into my Zappos cart. I don’t know how Zappos does it, but they have something really big figured out with online retailing. I love them (so don’t anybody go and tell me something I wouldn’t want to know about them). When all was said and done, I ended up sticking with the same model of Columbias, even though they had to go and mess with the overall styling of them.

• A small space heater that I hope will keep our little shed functioning as a make-shift root cellar until winter finally wins the war. And when it’s done with that chore, I know I will fire it up in my office on those few days each winter when the passive heat from the downstairs wood stove simply does not make it all the way up to my keyboard.

• Four new pairs of fuzzy pink socks. I don’t know – something about putting on pink socks makes me feel better on cold mornings.

• A pair of bomber mittens. For the past week, my fingers have gone numb on my afternoon walks wearing what I thought to be suitable mittens. I am ecstatic to report that my hands actually broke into a sweat on my last hike. My hands just don’t do that. Ever.

And, while the credit card was hot, I made one last minute, impulse purchase. Even though I have put myself on cookbook probation (due mainly to space limitations) I went ahead and shamelessly ordered a copy of Amanda Hesser’s The Essential New York Times Cookbook. I actually thought about being good and handing the book over to Mark without even cracking the spine so he could wrap it up and get a jump on Santa. But that motion lasted all of about 3 seconds. One peek and there was no going back. Which has not a bad way to spend a blustery Thanksgiving weekend. Wow. Hesser has created a truly astonishing recap of 150 years of New York Times recipes and food history. The only hard part has been deciding what to try first (all signs point to a winter of good cooking ahead). I settled on a chocolate chip cookie recipe that originated from Ms. Hesser herself. I thought I was convinced to try the much talked about David Leite chocolate chip cookie first, but Amanda’s description of a flat, chewy, salty, and chocolaty cookie swayed me. And I’m so glad it did. Get in line David.

Flat and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

As with many of the recipes in the book, Hesser proceeds this one with a great story. The moral of which is to be sure you use Diamond Crystal kosher salt, which is far less salty than other brands of iodized salt. I was so intrigued by the salt factor of these cookies that I gave my final two trays a sprinkling of coarse salt before putting them in the oven. My only regret was that I waited to try this until the end. I highly recommend it.

2 cups flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 scant tablespoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt
1/2 pound unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 cups (12 ounces) chopped bittersweet chocolate (chunks and shavings)
coarse sea salt

Sift together the flour, baking soda, and salt

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the butter and sugars until fluffy – about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla. Add the flour mixture all at once and blend until a dough forms. Fold in the chocolate. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, preferably overnight.

Heat the oven to 325º F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll 2 1/2 tablespoon lumps of dough into balls, place 3 inches apart on the baking sheet, and flatten to 1/2 inch thick disks. Sprinkle the raw cookies with a pinch of sea salt. Chill the remaining dough between batches.

Bake until the edges are golden brown, 14 to 16 minutes. Let cool slightly on the baking sheet, then transfer to a rack.

pulling trump

Published November 23, 2010 pig slop , sauces, salsas, preserves 4 Comments
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I have sort of a guilty, tenuous relationship with cranberries. I like them – quite a bit actually. The problem is that just about the time I learned to appreciate cranberries for something more than a red glossy tube that comes sliding out of a can, my father decided to get into the tart cherry business. Never one to do things in a small way, he set to planting tees – and lots of them. He had designs on becoming the Tart Cherry King of southeast Minnesota. Life can be sadly unpredictable though, and regrettably, he did not live to see the word “king” associated with his name. He did, however, manage to leave a legacy of tart cherries behind him. The months of June and July typically turn into one big red blur of a cherry harvest for my mother. Friends come. Family comes. Neighbors come. Restaurateurs come. Friends come again. And still, after all that, my mom generally maintains a freezer full of cherries.

Needless to say, I sort of have unlimited access to a lot of tart cherries. And I love them. To me, they are the perfect juicy blend of sweet and sour. This is where things get dicey with the cranberries. It has gotten to the point that when I come across a recipe involving cranberries, I almost inadvertently substitute the word cherry for cranberry. It’s easy – try it. “Cranberry hazelnut granola,” “cranberry upside down cake,” “cranberry almond muffins.” See? I mean it’s not that cranberries don’t sound good, but tart cherries? Now we’re talkin’ about something. And so it was no different with my favorite spicy cranberry chutney recipe. I think I made it one year using cranberries before the tart cherries pulled trump.

The original recipe came via my friend Julie who must have heard a Thanksgiving piece on NPR, because it came with a note that it is Susan Stamberg’s favorite cranberry side dish (unless Julie is holding out on me, I don’t believe she’s ever had Ms. Stamberg over for Thanksgiving dinner). Like a lot of recipes, I’ve adjusted it here and there – and in this case made a substitution of a homemade tart cherry sauce for the can of cranberry sauce originally called for. I highly recommend seeking out some frozen tart cherries, but if unlike me, you feel obliged to remain steadfast and loyal to the cranberry, the chutney will be almost as good. But not quite.

Guilty Garlicky Tart Cherry Chutney

16 oz frozen tart cherries
3/4 cup honey
1 rounded tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in about 1/4 cup of cold water

1 tablespoon of ginger – grated (a microplane works great for this)
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
4 tablespoons honey
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp salt (or to taste)
ground white pepper (to taste)

Put frozen cherries and honey in a heavy sauce pan and bring to a gentle simmer. Let the cherries cook and bubble, stirring occasionally, for about 15 – 20 minutes. While they cook, periodically take a fork to the cherries and mash them up to your desired consistency. Stir in the cornstarch slurry and cook a for a few minutes longer until slightly thickened. Remove from heat.

In another sauce pan, combine ginger, garlic, vinegar, honey and cayenne. Bring to a simmer, and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally for about 15 minutes or until there is roughly 1/4 cup of thick liquid left.

Add in the cherry sauce, salt, and pepper. Mix and bring to a gentle simmer fro about 5 -10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed, adding a touch more honey, salt, or pepper if needed. Cool, store and refrigerate. Serve at room temperature.

Don’t just limit this to holiday feasts! This chutney is great in sandwiches and with all kinds of meat – pork, chicken, turkey, roast beef. It is also quite lovely with a smear of goat cheese on a cracker.

A very Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

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