Cookbook Addict: Our Daily Bread
December 26, 2013
One of the most-used gifts we received this year was a birthday present from James and Zandra to J back in June: a copy of Ken Forkish’s Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast. I never thought I’d stray from the ridiculously easy Sullivan Street Bakery No-Knead Bread recipe or Mark Bittman’s basic pizza dough, but once I started experimenting with Forkish’s methods, I became a devoted follower. And, indeed, Forkish is a masterful teacher, explaining the whys and hows of his bread-making methods in clear, descriptive language. The opening chapters of the book tell the story about quitting his corporate job to follow a dream of becoming a bread maker, followed by a chapter on the important details for delicious bread and an outline of the equipment he recommends. Chapter 4 is an overview of the basic bread method with step-by-step photos. Contrary to many other cookbooks, the first several chapters, save for perhaps Forkish’s interesting back story, are required reading before diving into the recipes. Every recipe I’ve made has required referencing Chapter 4; though now that I’m more familiar with the terms and techniques, flipping back and forth is becoming less frequent.
Requiring only four basic ingredients in varied proportions, the recipes’ other essential elements are patience and especially timing. The recipes are not difficult to execute once you have the basic method down, and the result is heavenly. Puffy bubbles that emerge during the rise transform into gorgeous air pockets in the finished loaf, and the flavor lent by fermentation and baking to a dark brown is unparalleled in supermarket loaves.
We spent the summer and fall, and indeed last night, up to our elbows in flour, surrounded by bulging masses of fermenting dough. And we went through at least three bags of flour this past summer making pizza dough, focaccia and beautiful artisan boules. It has the potential to become an addiction, and I recommend it wholeheartedly.
Tradition: Christmas Pudding
December 26, 2011
I cringe a little bit when I hear myself say, “I’d like to start a new tradition,” well aware that an act doesn’t become tradition until it is repeated so many times it is unnatural not to do it. My Grandma Dorothy upheld her family’s special-occasion tradition of serving czernina, the Borusheski version of the Polish duck soup, using the same green plastic teacup year after year as a soup ladle. My dad has maintained his father’s tradition of making the Hungarian káposztája, stuffed cabbage leaves, every New Year’s Day. J and I have a few traditions of our own, but starting a new tradition is tricky business: Sometimes they stick, sometimes they don’t. And there are few things lamer than hearing yourself say, “What ever happened to that tradition?”
Last year I did start what I hope will become a long-standing tradition: Christmas pudding. The recipe I use comes from Nigella Lawson’s book Feast. I first tasted “figgy pudding” when a former co-worker brought one to a holiday potluck, and immediately I knew I must try this recipe. Sweet, but not too much so. Dense, sticky and rich with layers of flavor. Is that chocolate? Is it a cake? Is it a fruitcake? And that dollop of rum butter? Oh man.
So the weekend after Thanksgiving, I make the puddings. I follow Nigella’s recipe faithfully, though it could be easily tinkered with. And because I don’t have a traditional pudding-steaming vessel I divide mine into four or five smaller glass containers with covers. The smaller portions make easy gifting and are easily stackable in the refrigerator. I skip the addition of the coins and tokens, which signify good luck, mostly because of laziness. Instead I send our good wishes along to everyone who enjoys the dish.
Nigella Lawson’s Nonconformist Christmas Pudding
2 cups dried mission figs
1 cup dried blueberries
1 1/2 cups currants (or dried cranberries, in a pinch)
3/4 cup Kahlua
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1 cup ground almonds
2 cups breadcrumbs
1/2 cup cocoa
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 apples
3 large eggs
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 tablespoon pie spice
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 cup vodka
Generously butter the steaming vessel(s) and lids.
Grind the figs in a food processor and put them in a saucepan with the blueberries, currants and Kahlua. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 10 minutes. Cut the butter on top of the simmering fruit and put the lid on, leaving it to simmer and melt for another 10 minutes.
Put the breadcrumbs, ground almonds, cocoa, flour, baking powder, baking soda and brown sugar into a large bowl.
Peel, quarter and core the apples and, as Nigella says, “bung” them in the still-figgy food processor until finely chopped. Add them to the bowl of dry ingredients along with the buttery dried fruit mixture. In the same unwashed food processor, break the eggs and add the sour cream, vanilla and spices. Process to mix and pour into the pudding, scraping the sides to get all the leftover bits. Mix well with a spoon, and pour into the prepared steaming vessels. If you’re using covered glass containers as I do, be sure not to overfill, as the pudding expands as it steams.
Now for the steaming: Because I make several smaller puddings, I arrange mine in a large canning pot, resting them on the rack. Cover and steam for four hours, checking the water level periodically. After four hours, turn off the heat and allow them to cool in the pan. Transfer the puddings to the refrigerator. (Some people allow them sit on the kitchen counter.) The more time you allow them to mature the better, which is why these are traditionally prepared toward the end of November. (That lazy Thanksgiving weekend, therefore, is the perfect time.)
The day you want to eat the pudding, steam it for another 1 1/2 to four hours — the longer it steams, the richer it will be. (A friend of mine steamed hers in a crock pot — a great tip.) Unmold the pudding by inverting it onto a plate, and stick a sprig of holly on top. In a saucepan, warm the vodka and strike a match to light it and pour over the pudding. “Then,” Nigella writes, “in absolute discordance with all possible health and safety initiatives, bearing it aloft make a dash for the dining table so everyone can see this fabulous, flickering spectacle.”
Makes me smile every time I read it.
Serve with rum butter.
Rum Butter
1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup ground almonds
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (my addition to the recipe. Optional)
3-plus tablespoons good-quality rum (to taste)
Put the sugar in the food processor and process to remove any lumps. Add the softened butter and cream it with the sugar. Scrape down the sides, add the ground almonds and process again. With the motor running, add the vanilla and the rum to taste. Taste as you go along. I prefer more rum in my butter, but some might find my preference too strong for their liking.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Sunday Dinner: Old-Fashioned Meatloaf and Spaghetti Squash Gratin
December 11, 2011
I can’t say meatloaf was my favorite food growing up. By my logic, if you were going through the trouble of hand-shaping ground beef, why not make meatballs (with spaghetti, duh)? And, if I remember correctly, the meatloaf of my childhood was usually accompanied by some objectionable vegetable like broccoli, adding insult to my pasta-less injury. (No disrespect to my mother’s meatloaf, of course. It just did not appeal to young palate. People change. Love you, Mom!)
A few year’s back, in the midst a dangerous, experimental mac-and-cheese stage (old habits die hard), I was perusing my cookbooks for an accompaniment to what I considered the night’s gooey, cheesy main attraction. That’s when I ran across a recipe for old-fashioned meatloaf in my golden go-to, The Gourmet Cookbook. A departure from the meatloaf Mom baked in bread loaf pans, this version was mounded free-form into an oval dome on baking sheet and slathered with ketchup. It sounded interesting enough, so we gave it a try, and a few year’s later it’s now a wintertime staple. While I have served this many times alongside a creamy pot of macaroni, it’s a star in and of itself. On a recent Sunday, though, a spaghetti-squash gratin was the side to what I consider to be a magnificent meatloaf. Pasta-less and still craveable? Whoodathunk it?
Old-Fashioned Meatloaf (Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook)
2 cups onions, finely diced
1 rib celery, finely diced
2 carrots, finely diced
3 green onions, minced
2-3 large cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons salt
2 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
2/3 cup ketchup
2 pounds lean ground chuck
1 pound ground pork
1 cup dried breadcrumbs
2 eggs beaten lightly
1/3 cup fresh Italian parsley, chopped
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
In a heavy skillet over medium heat, sautee the onions, celery carrots, green onions and garlic in olive oil for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally until the onions are translucent and the carrots are tender. Season with salt and black pepper. Add the Worcestershire sauce and 1/3 cup ketchup and stir, cooking for one additional minute. Remove from heat.
In a large bowl, combine the the beef, pork, eggs, breadcrumbs and parsley. Incorporate the vegetable mixture into the meat, mixing with your hands. (Don’t over-mix.) Turn the meatloaf mixture onto a shallow baking pan, forming it into a mounded oval, about 10 by 5 inches. Spread the remaining 1/3 cup ketchup on the top. Bake in the oven for 1 hour or until the internal temperature reads 155 degrees. Remove from oven and loosely cover with foil. Let the loaf rest for 10 minutes before slicing.
Spaghetti Squash and Tomato Gratin (Adapted from Cooking Light)
1 medium spaghetti squash
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 28-ounce canned whole tomatoes, drained and chopped
3 sprigs fresh oregano
3 sprigs fresh thyme
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 15-ounce tub low-fat ricotta
1/2 cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 teaspoons chopped fresh oregano
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
1 teaspoon salt
Fresh ground pepper
With a small, sharp knife, pierce the surface of the squash about 1-inch deep to prevent it from bursting. Put the whole squash in a microwave and cook on the highest setting for 6 to 7 minutes. Using oven mitts, turn the squash over and cook for an additional 8 to 10 minutes, until it feels slightly soft when pressed. Remove the squash from the microwave, and allow it to cool. Cut the squash in half lengthwise, and remove and discard the seeds from the middle. Run the tines of a fork through the flesh creating long spaghetti-like strands. (Should yield about four cups.) Set aside. (This step can be done ahead.)
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
In a heavy saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the garlic. Cook stirring for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes, crushed red pepper, oregano sprigs and thyme sprigs. Add salt and pepper to taste, and simmer for 20 minutes until thickened. Remove and discard the woody stems of the oregano and thyme. Set aside.
In a bowl, combine the ricotta and the Parmigiano-Reggiano. Add the chopped oregano and thyme and season with salt and pepper.
In a 9 by 13 casserole, make a base layer of spaghetti squash. Follow with a layer of tomatoes, spreading evenly over the squash. Top it off with the cheese mixture. Bake at 400 degrees for 50 minutes, or until lightly browned on top.
(Alternatively, you can layer the squash, tomatoes and cheese in eight 8-ounce ramekins as called for in the the original recipe.)
- Comforting meatloaf and spaghetti squash gratin.
- The adding of the ketchup.
- Mixologist at work.
- Ground goodness awaits.
- Fresh Italian Parsley.
- Parsley, breadcrumbs, eggs. Mixing commences.
- In goes the veg.
- Hand mixing.
- The shaping of the loaf.
- Loaf with the secret ingredient: ketchup.
- A thing of beauty.
- A little mouse?
- Hoping beyond hope: Perhaps something will fall.
- Warm and comforting meatloaf and spaghetti squash gratin.
Refrigerator Staple: Soffritto
April 1, 2011
Onions.
Olive oil.
Tomatoes.
Garlic.
Salt.
Whenever J and I make a meal, you can bet that, in most cases, at least four of the five ingredients above are featured in some way or another. But in one of our newest refrigerator staples, they are the stars.
Helloooo, soffritto, you sweet, jammy medley.
We had our first encounter with soffritto over the holidays last year, following the recipe from Thomas Keller’s “Ad Hoc at Home” cookbook in the ever-engaging “lifesavers” section. His is a simple recipe, really: Finely dice onions (3 cups) and combine in a large pan with olive oil (1 cup, though I sometimes us a bit more so there is more to save) and a bit of salt. Bring the oil just to a boil, then reduce the heat and place the pan on a heat diffuser. Simmer for 2 1/2 hours.
Cue the tomatoes. Keller gives instructions for halving one pound plum tomatoes lengthwise, and grating the flesh on a box grater until only the skin is left in your hand. I did this once. But in December in the Northwest, plum tomatoes are pretty anemic. And while the process of hand-grating tomatoes is not difficult, I feel it’s not entirely necessary when a box of good-quality Italian crushed tomatoes is a fine shortcut. Add the tomatoes (1 cup or so) to the onion/olive oil stew, give a stir and simmer for another 2 1/2 hours. Low, slow.
Remove the pan from the heat, add one or two (Two! No, three!) minced garlic cloves and let the mixture cool on the stove. Use a fine-mesh sieve to drain off the extra olive oil, reserving it for the next batch of soffritto (Keller’s advice), or for sauteeing vegetables (our advice). Either way, refrigerate the oil, refrigerate the soffritto. Enjoy.
How to enjoy? I eat my fair share of quesadillas, and this mellow-sweet, onion-y condiment is a luxurious topping. It’s also delicious on frittata, fish or pasta.
Or, by the spoonful.
(I would never do that.)