31 posts tagged “in the kitchen”

Despite my humble beginnings as a home baker making cookies and then cakes, my latest (and some say greatest) culinary interest has been in pie, pie, and more pie. And more specifically... in pie dough. Crusty, hearty, flaky, not-too-sweet pastry is something that many bakers claim is QED. But, as I've mentioned before, I am not one of those bakers.

On Christmas Day, C'pher and I found ourselves in a rental car with satellite radio on an absolutely flawless day, weather-wise, driving from Charlottesville, Virginia (his family) to Moundsville, West Virginia (my family). Thanks to Google Maps, we had an itinerary on the back roads, and saw every tiny, isolated little mountain town along route 33. When we finally topped the Appalachians and could see down in the valley into West Virginia, we were convinced that God himself had programmed that route just to remind us how really lovely our country really is.

When we stopped for a break at a little gas station just inside the WV border, I saw some home-canned goodies for sale. The Pendleton Conty Apple Butter I snagged for my Dad... but the jar of Blackberry & Raspberry pie filling was aaaallll mine.

After managing to get the jar back to San Francisco without permanently dying all my clothing purple, I was itching to try it out.  The terrible January rainstorms, and an afternoon get-together with pals to watch movies and drink too much wine seemed the perfect exuse... and of course I'd have to try another pie crust recipe! After all, Yasmin and Gary had both just pledged themselves to a new diet (hence the decoration atop the pie), and it is my accepted and honored duty to always and in every way tempt them out of such foolishness.  I bake because I care, people.

How long has it been since I extolled the many virtues of the fabulous Cook's Illustrated magazine in this format?  Too long, if I can't remember.   CI is a cooking magazine I overlooked for a long time simply because it's covers look ugly. I mean... the romantic paintings of foodstuffs, the  Very Plain Typography... it all served to make CI look like the culinary equivalent of the New England Journal of Medicine. Who knew it was more like the culinary Consumer Reports!

Once I got my hands on CI, I was enraptured.  Painstakingly researched and tested recipes, actually useful tips, techniques, and tidbits, and science science science!  I devour each issue -- for me, it's often the final word on how-to in the kitchen.

You can imagine my delight, then, when the Nov/Dec 2007 issue came promising "Foolproof & Flaky Pie Dough: Easy to Make, Easy to Roll."  Since I know their reputation for trying almost anything to make a recipe work better, I can't say I was entirely surprised when round after round of testing ended with the conclusion that, instead of only adding water to the dough, an equal amount of vodka made the dough easier to roll out, while maintaining the much-coveted flakyness factor.

You heard me...  VODKA.  In addition to a few procedural changes, using vodka and water in place of all water creates an amount of gluten in the pastry that is juuuuust right: it's easier to roll out because there is more liquid, but since the alcohol in the vodka inhibits the formation of gluten, the resulting crust won't be too tough.

Could you taste the vodka? Absolutely not... it's fairly tasteless to begin with, and nearly all the alcohol bakes right out. I will say that I'm a "a little batter for the oven, a little batter for me" kind of baker and I did eat the raw dough -- that stuff is boo-oo-OOzy!  Just don't let your little ones or your cousin who's finally got his 18 months sober chip dive in for a sample or you'll be busted.

Once I opened the berry pie filling and tasted it, I decided it needed a little... something. In the spirit of my original inspiration to begin baking, Anne Byrn's delightful idea book The Cake Mix Doctor, I decided to "doctor it up." I was able to find some fresh raspberries, and of course I had a lemon on hand. Since it still lacked the tartness I wanted, I added a scant half-teaspoon of sour salt -- another name for citric acid -- which is available in crystalline form at specialty shops.

Once assembled, I carted the pie out to our pal Yasmin's place to bake it fresh as we made several platefuls of grilled cheese -- sourdough garlic and whole wheat olive bread with fantastic Irish cheddar, well-buttered and served piping hot right off the grill.  Once we made it through High Anxiety and Gigi, we sliced into the pie, and it was a delightful bit of summer in the dead of winter. It's amazing what some good wine, some good food and a rainy afternoon with Waiting For Guffman and great friends can do to help you forget the awful weather. And when there is flaky pie crust?  That's just the, er... the icing on the cake!

A food processor is man's best friend

FOOLPROOF PIE DOUGH
for one 9-inch double pie crust pie

If you can get your hands on the issue 89 (Nov/Dec '07) of Cook's Illustrated, be sure to read the full article that accompanies this recipe: it PERFECTLY illustrates why cooking is equal parts science and art. Well... okay, maybe it's 60/40 science/art, but you get the idea. First, lead researcher and article author J. Kenji Alt breaks down the components of pastry dough and explains how pastry becomes flaky. Then he admits to the many awful truths about working with a cold and dry dough: it cracks when rolling, it sticks and tears, and overworking it causes too much gluten to form, making the pastry end up more like leather than tender, crumbly deliciousness. 

Vodka practically eliminates these problems. Allow me to quote from Mr. Alt:

Pie dough gets its structure from gluten, long chains of protein that form when flour mixes with water. But too much gluten will make pie dough tough. That's why traditional pie doughs are so stingy with the water. I discoverd that vodka lets you add more liquid (so the dough is easier to roll out) without toughening the crust. Why?

Eighty-proof vodka consists of 60 percent water and 40 percent ethanol. While gluten forms readily in water, it does not form in ethanol. Thus, my recipe, which contains 4 Tablespoons each of cold water and vodka, gets the benefits of 8 tablespoons of liquid (supple, easy-to-roll dough) but actually has the equivalent of about 6½ Tablespoons of water -- an amount that limits gluten formation and ensures tenderness. As for the alcohol? It vaporizes in the oven.

Alt has been apparently all over the Chowhound boards responding to readers questions about, among other things, flavored alcohols in the dough and admits that an apple pie with a calvados crust turned out very well. The mind fairly boggles with the possibilities.

You'll also notice a procedural change for this food-processor dough: he reserves a portion of the flour to incorporate into the dough after some has been mixed with the fat. This creates long sheets of gluten seperated by a fat-flour paste. Genius. JKA... will you marry me?

• 2 ½ cups (12 ½ oz.) unbleached all-purpose flour, separated
• 1 tsp table salt
• 2 Tbsp sugar
• 12 Tbsp (1 ½ sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into ¼ in. slices
• ½ cold vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
• ¼ cup cold vodka
• ¼ cup cold water

Process 1 ½  cups flour with all the salt and sugar in a food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogeneous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds, and there should be no uncoated flour.

Scrape bowl with a rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add the remaining cup of flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl, and mass of dough has been broken up, 4-6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.

Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With a rubber spatula, use a folding motion to mix, pressing down on the dough until it is slightly tacky and sticks together. Divide into tow even balls and flatten each into a 4-inch disc. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days.

Note: Vodka is essential to the texture of the crust and imparts no flavor – do not substitute. This dough will be moister and more supple than most standard pie doughs and will require more flour to roll out (up to ¼ cup).

(Source: Cook's Illustrated  #89, November & December  2007)

Because every good pie needs a side dish.

In all the posts I've made this week regarding the various aspects of the Thanksgiving meal, I've neglected the part I almost always butcher... literally: carving the bird without making it look the the victim of an IED.

Here is a great video, courtesy of Cooking.com, that breaks it down quite nicely. I should also mention the carving video on SFGate.com featuring Chronicle staff food writer Olivia Wu, which is also great and instructive.

Bon Appetit!

From starters to turkey to side dishes both traditional and not-so-much, hopefully I’ve provided enough suggestions to make your Thanksgiving delicious as possible.  Only one thing left now... dessert!    

And so now, I have a confession. I am buying pies for our Thanksgiving dinner this year.  Boom.

Now that it’s out there, pick your jaw up off the floor and shove your eyes back in their sockets. Get that swooning lady over there onto a couch before she hurts herself.  It’s true.  Even though, among all types of cooking one can do, baking is my favorite… even though I spent a full week off work last year doing nothing but making cookies for Christmas… even though I have been on a pie crust quest for the past six months... even though Thanksgiving is mere days away and having pumpkin pie is second only to turkey in importance on the menu… despite all of these things, I called Mission Pie the other day and ordered two pies for pickup on Wednesday.

Know why?  Because I know how to choose my battles! Contrary to what Martha Stewart’s staff wants you to believe, it’s not strictly necessary to prepare every course yourself. Given the fact that we all have jobs to attend to aside from preparing a Thanksgiving feast to beat the band, I think we can allow ourselves a little time-saving here and there.  I mean… it’s not like even most from-scratch bakers are roasting and pureeing their own pumpkins, right?

Besides, we are blessed here in San Francisco to have so many options for delicious, fresh, locally produced, and environmentally friendly (believe it or not) pie sources, it’s almost a shame NOT to buy them. Far from having to resort to the pie case at Eat’n Park (Da ‘burgh… represent!), Shoney’s, Marie Callender’s, or ::shudder:: the frozen aisle at Safeway, we could order homemade delectables from Sweet Inspiration, DeLessio, or the fabulous Mission Beach Café (whose pastry chef I swear is descended from Olympus or something)… and those are just the places in our neighborhood!  One of the tricks of keeping entertaining fun is to use your resources – in other words, don’t bite off more than you can chew!  Literally.

Mission Pie is a local business with a really important purpose beyond serving up fantastic, home-made pastries.  Students from a local high school spend time at a nearby farm, Pie Ranch, raising many of the very ingredients they will later turn into pies and sell in this new Mission District classic. I’ve ordered one pumpkin and one pear-ginger… and at $18 bucks they are not just a great thing to do, they are a bargain!

Now… if you’ve got time I don’t have this year, or if you signed up to bring dessert for the celebration you’re attending feel free to take along these two amazing beauties that Harold and I prepared a few years back when he, Jenny, C’pher, and I headed south to San Jose to spend Thanksgiving with his parents.  They are both amazing, re-heat well, and are an oh-so-seasonal finish to the meal.  

Regardless of whether you make your own meal, or hire it all out...when you’re sipping your calvados, or your last glass of champers, or your second cup of good decaf, I hope you feel thankful. With food this good, it really is a sweet happy life!  Happy Thanksgiving!

BUTTER AND LARD CRUST

When we made the pies for his parents’ Thanksgiving a few years ago, Harold did us both a favor and made the crusts for both pie, and this is the recipe he used. Each time I see the huge blocks of lard (also labeled here in bi-lingual California as ‘ manteca ’), I think of how excellent these crusts were, but in the end I resist. Since my pie-crust quest is long from over, perhaps I’ll re-visit this recipe. If C’pher ever lets me buy some lard, that is.

• 3 cups sifted AP flour, chilled
• ¼ cup sugar (except for savory pie crusts)
• A pinch of salt
• 8 Tbsp (1/4 lb./ 1 stick) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 8 pieces
• 1/3 cup lard, chilled and cut into small pieces
• 6-8 Tbsp iced water

Combine the flour, sugar (if using), and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. With the top off, sprinkle the butter and lard over the dry ingredients. Re-cover and pulse a few times until small  clumps form.  Begin to add the iced water through the feed tube, 1 Tbsp at a time, pulsing quickly until the dough begins to form into a ball.

Turn the dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap.  As you wrap the dough in the plastic, form it into a disc. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Once chilled, take the dough from the refrigerator and cut it into 2 pieces, one slightly larger than the other. Re-wrap the smaller piece and return it to the refrigerator. Roll out the bigger piece on a lightly floured surface until it’s slightly larger than the pie pan.

Drape one end of the dough over the rolling pin and gently lift it up, then slip the pan underneath the dough and lower it into the pan. Press the dough gently – and quickly – against the sides of the pan. Leave about an inch of dough hanging over the sides of the pan and cut any excess away. Refrigerate the crust for at least 30 minutes before either filling or pre-baking.

If you are making a pie with a top crust, after you have filled the pie, take the smaller disc from the refrigerator  and roll it out on a lightly floured surface until it’s a little bigger than the pie. Drape one end of the dough over the rolling pin, lift it gently, then drape it over the top of the filling. Press the edges together and crimp to seal. Brush on an egg wash and/or top with sugar, if using. Slash a few vents across the top of the crust to allow steam to escape, and bake the pie according to the recipe’s directions.

A COMMON APPLE PIE (with CHEESE)

Don’t let the pedestrian name of this recipe fool you... particularly with a very sharp Vermont cheddar either melted atop it before serving (run an oven safe plate with pie topped with cheese under the broiler) or under the crust, as this recipe calls for, the results are anything but common. Just consider this your standard apple pie... the standard by which all others will be measured.

You’ll notice some inexact and even non-existent measurements... that’s because you’re meant to taste the filling as you mix it, allowing for your own preferences of taste, as well as the sweet/tart balance of the apples you use. The author of Pie Every Day, Pat Willard, knows what she is talking about!

• One double 9-inch Butter and Lard Crust, unbaked
• 8 or 9 large apples of several different cooking varieties (‘Delicious’ apples will NOT do), peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
• Juice of 1 lemon
• Sugar
• Ground cinnamon
• Pinch of both ground mace and ground nutmeg
• Unsalted butter
• Sharp cheddar cheese
• One large egg white beaten with a little water, for brushing

Pre-heat oven to 450° F.  Prepare the pastry; line a 9 inch pie pan with half the pastry and refrigerate, along with the unrolled half, while you make the filling.

Taste a few slices of the apples to gauge how much sugar you’ll need to make them sweet. In a large bowl, mix the apple slices with the lemon juice. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon to taste, then add mace and nutmeg.

Pour the apple mixture into the prepared pastry shell. Mound toward the center and dot with butter. Arrange slices of any good, sharp cheddar cheese over the apples (Alternatively, sprinkle grated cheese in the bottom of the crust before adding the apples and butter).

Roll out the remaining pastry and carefully lay it over the apples. Seal the edges and decorate top with extra dough cut into decorative shapes. Brush the egg wash over the surface of the pastry, and cut vent holes.

Place the pie on a baking sheet (to catch any spillover) and bake in the middle of the oven for 10 minutes. Turn the oven down to 350° F and continue to cook until the top crust is golden brown, about another hour.  If the edges start to brown too much, cover with a ribbon of foil.

ROSY APPLE PIE

Unlike the other versions of this pie you’ll see, this one has no cinnamon candies or red-fleshed apples. It gets its bright rosy glow from the addition of frozen raspberries, which turn out to be a delightful compliment, especially to sweet apples.  The juices make a pink sauce looks amazing... especially when served with ice cream!  Tapioca turns out to be a miracle thickener in pies... less gummy than flour, less grainy than corn starch and less expensive than arrowroot.  Who knew?

• One double 9-inch Butter and Lard Crust, unbaked
• 6 or 7 large cooking apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
• 1 (10 oz.) package frozen raspberries
• 1-2 Tbsp apple cider (optional)
• 1 cup sugar
• 2½ Tbsp quick-cooking tapioca
• 1Tbsp unsalted butter

Pre-heat oven to 425° F.  Prepare the pastry; line a 9 inch pie pan with half of the pastry and refrigerate, along with the unrolled half, while you make the filling.

In a medium saucepan, bring the apples and raspberries to a boil.  If the apples aren’t juicy enough, add the cider. Remove from the heat, add the sugar, tapioca, and butter and stir to blend and melt the butter. Cool, stirring occasionally.

Roll out the remaining pastry and carefully lay it over the apples. Seal the edges and decorate top with extra dough cut into decorative shapes. Brush the egg wash over the surface of the pastry, and cut vent holes.

Place the pie on a baking sheet (to catch any spillover) and bake in the center of the oven for 40-45 minutes until the crust is golden brown.

(Source: Pie Every Day by Pat Willard)

In part 3 of this now widely lauded series, I shared some very traditional Thanksgiving side dish recipes that will delight everyone with their taste but surprise no one. Let’s take that second part and see about turning it on it’s head, shall we?

As I’ve said, before we started hosting Thanksgiving at our place, Christopher and I were invited to many lovely dinners for the big day, and since Thanksgiving is all about the eats, most hosts opt to have each guest contribute a dish. Most folks bust out their ‘specialty’ dish, be it green bean casserole or mixed greens with tangerine poppyseed dressing or their own famous pumpkin cheesecake.

Not content to bring something as pedestrian (but undeniably delicious) as Corn Pudding again, one year I hit the books and started coming up with ideas – and there were a lot of them!  And far from the same old Sweet Potatoes and Marshmallows, most of the ones that interested me were anything but ordinary.  Also, I found dishes that tasted and looked fantastic, but often ended up going WAY overboard fat, sugar, and most importantly… portion size.

The problem, of course, in hosting Thanksgiving dinner and asking for contributions of side dishes, is that everyone thinks “Oh! Thanksgiving!  I’ll make the fattiest/ cheesiest/ heaviest/ most caloric/ most coma-inducing/ most sugary thing I can come up with!  And I’d better make enough for everyone to have multiple helpings!”  

The end result is that you end up with 900 pounds of Applewood-Smoked Bacon Stuffing, three tubfulls of Roasted Garlic & Sour Cream Mashed Potatoes, and 75 gallons (give or take) of Cream of Butternut Squash Soup – all delicious, of course, but together, a bit overwhelming. Everyone has to eat a little bit of everything (after all… the cook went to such trouble!), and though there are enough leftovers to feed the Russian Army, everyone demurs when offered a doggy bag.   Three weeks later, as you’re wrapping Christmas gifts, you’re snacking on stale Honey Whole Wheat Butter Croissants and drying desperately to shake greenish, gelatinous Veal Gravy out of your best Tupperware.

Learn from my mistakes, guests!  Make something tasty, but keep in mind that the guests don’t have to live on your dish alone.  And hosts, be sure you let folks know that something without two pounds of butter, a cup of goose fat, or a kilo of sugar would be most welcome.  I am the first to admit a love of culinary wretched excess, but when the ‘wretched’ part takes over, we’re all in for a double-helping of trouble.

So if you’re a traditionalist, buy some nice Idaho Russet potatoes, have plenty of sour cream and butter and mash, don’t blend!  If you’re in the mood for a little something different, fish around in your cookbooks, clippings, and of course food blogs, and find something fresh and new to try. Just don’t cook like you’re feeding the Pittsburgh Steelers’ defensive line!  As a wise person once said, “Moderation in all things.”  Naturally, though, that also includes moderation.

CAULIFLOWER-GARLIC “MASHED POTATOES”

Remember the low-carb craze?  Me neither, but this dish would be perfect for Dr. Atkins and his ilk. I got this recipe from the exceedingly wonderful Lynn Rosetto-Kasper, cook, author and host of the fantastic radio show, The Splendid Table. The texture is remarkably like mashed potatoes... without any of the starchy badness. It’s so easy to make, and turns out a almost impossibly creamy, fluffy and flavorful dish. Top it with some freshly cracked black pepper and maybe a little sea salt, and you’ll never miss the mashed potatoes.

• 1 large head cauliflower (preferably organic)
• 5 large cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• Salt
• 1 tablespoons good-tasting butter
• 3 tablespoons good-tasting extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
• Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Cook in two batches. Set a collapsible steamer basket in a 6-quart pot. Add water to come just above the bottom of the steamer. Cover and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, wash cauliflower and its leaves. Cut leaves into thin slices. Break cauliflower into florets.

Drop leaves onto the steamer and sprinkle lightly with salt. Add half the cauliflower, all the garlic, then remaining cauliflower. Sprinkle lightly with more salt. Cover and steam over medium-high heat 8 minutes, or until cauliflower is so tender a knife just slips into it.

Drain in a colander, turn into a food processor fitted with the steel knife, and add butter and oil. Puree until smooth. Season to taste with pepper, nutmeg, and more salt if needed. Serve immediately, or refrigerate, covered, and reheat later. Serves 8 to 9, but this recipe can be easily doubled, and it makes a great accompaniment for meals throughout the week.

ESCALLOPED TOMATOES

This is a reaaaaaally old recipe – specifically it’s from the mid-18th century. I found it in The Williamsburg Art of Cookery, or Accomplish’d Gentlewoman’s Companion: Being a Collection of upwards of Five Hundred of the most Ancient & Approv’d Recipes in Virginia Cookery. I got this book in (guess where?) Colonial Williamsburg when C’pher and I were newly in love and road trips to Colonial Williamsburg still seemed like a great idea.  I’ve managed to adapt one or two of the recipes despite all those cool long S’s that look like F’s and the arcane language.  The recipe as it appears below is verbatim from the book, so YMMV.

I included this new favorite of mine in a collection of recipes to be given to my pal Jenny when she finally made an honest man out of that ne’er-do-well Harold. You can check an earlier post for a list of a few more recipes I submitted for inclusion in a ‘New Bride’s’ cookbook her Maid of Honor put together.

Cooking out-of-season tomatoes is a way of enjoying them even when they're not right off the vine in your granny's garden, so this recipe works all year 'round. I have used many kinds of bread, but a couple of think slices of whole grain brown bread seem to work best. I always add chopped rosemary to the tomatoes in this dish. Serving it with fresh sprigs as a garnish is usually a pleaser, too. I interpret the phrase 'slow oven' to mean 325º F. This dish doubles, travels, and re-heats well, so it's great for a Thanksgiving potluck, and folks love hearing about it's Colonial roots. How very American!

Mix two and one half Cups of Tomatoes, two Slices of Bread broken in Pieces, one half cup of finely chopped Celery, one Tablespoon of finely minced Onion, one Teaspoon of Salt, one fourth Teaspoon of black Pepper and three Tablespoons of Sugar. Pour into buttered deep Baking dish and cover well with small Pieces of Butter. Bake in a slow oven at least an Hour, stirring occasionally at first.

CORNBREAD-CHORIZO DRESSING

Who makes the stuffing in the turkey anymore? It’s so difficult to cook it to a high enough temperature so far inside a big ol’ bird that by the time it’s safe to eat, your turkey is likely to taste like sage and butter infused sawdust. Ick.  Still... we do love our stuffing for Thanksgiving!  It’s pretty much a given these days that the stuffing will be done as a separate dish. After all... this is America.  Two years in a row makes it a tradition!

But... is it called stuffing or dressing?  That question is right up there with “pop or soda?” You can call this whatever you like, as long as you call me when it’s ready to eat. Our excellent friends Nicole and John brought this for Thanksgiving to our place a couple of years ago, and no one even CARED about the turkey. You know all those leftovers I was mentioning earlier? Guess how much of this delectable dish was left over? Zero point zero zero percent. ‘Nuff said.

• 8 oz. Mexican-style firm, fresh chorizo sausage (see notes), casings removed
• ½ cup (1/4 lb.) butter
• 1 red onion (about 8 oz.), peeled and chopped
• ½  cup each chopped celery and carrot
• 6 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
• 1 Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
• 1 tsp each chopped fresh thyme, oregano, and sage leaves
• ½ cup fat-skimmed chicken broth
• 12 cups ¾ -inch cubes cornbread (see notes)
• Salt and fresh-ground pepper

In a 10- to 12-inch frying pan over medium heat, stir chorizo until crumbly and browned, about 5 minutes. Transfer to paper towels to drain.

Return pan to medium-high heat and add butter. When melted, add onion, celery, carrot, and garlic. Stir until vegetables are lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Add cilantro, thyme, oregano, and sage; stir until fragrant, 1 minute. Add chorizo and ½ cup chicken broth and stir just until boiling. Remove from heat.

In a large bowl, combine cornbread cubes and vegetable-chorizo mixture. Stir until evenly moistened, seasoning to taste with salt and pepper. If mixture is too dry for your liking, moisten with additional chicken broth. Spoon into a 9- by 13-inch baking dish.

Cover and bake in a 450° F oven for 10 minutes; uncover and continue to bake until top is browned and dressing is heated through, 5 to 10 minutes longer. Serve hot. 


NOTES: For the cornbread, up to 3 days ahead, bake two 8-inch square pans of your favorite recipe or a boxed mix (you will have a little left over); store airtight at room temperature. Look for firm, fresh chorizo in natural casings at well-stocked supermarkets or Mexican markets. Very soft, bright-red chorizo in plastic casings won't work in this dish. You can assemble the dressing (through step 3) up to 2 days ahead; cover and chill. Remove from refrigerator about 3 hours before baking to bring to room temperature. Serves 8 to 10.



(Sources: Lynne Rosetto-Kasper, The Williamsburg Art of Cookery, and Sunset Magazine, Nov 2004. See cauliflower, tomato, and stuffing pix for photo credits.)

So far, we’ve gotten ourselves fully appetized, and filled at least half our plate with roast turkey and gravy. What to do with the rest of the real estate on that plate, though?  Enter the side dishes!

Having been a guest at more than one Thanksgiving feast, and having to come up with something stellar and delicious to wow the assembled gang with, I have no shortage of great ideas in this category. I find that Thanksgiving side dishes fall mostly into one of two categories: the traditional and the unusual. In most cases, even the unusual has to have some element of the traditional. If one is going to serve Poached Quail Eggs with Delicata and Sesame Fleur De Sel, they sure as hell’d better be served on a bed of buttermilk mashed potatoes and each topped with a dollop of cranberry relish.  Such are the demands of Our Dread Mistress, Thanksgiving!

Today, I’ll present some ideas for traditional side dishes and accompaniments, and I use that word with no ill will at all. One of my favorite things about the Holidays (you know which ones I mean) is tradition, and food traditions almost most of all.  They might be heavy, full of salt, full of sugar, or bought in the dairy case of the local Giant Eagle, but by golly they are delicious. And what the hell is ‘Delicata’ anyway?  Feh.

THELMA’S HOMEMADE NOODLES

My parents, Denis and Thelma, are both excellent cooks and fed three rather picky eaters (my brother, sister, and me) with balanced meals, 7 days a week for something like 25 years.  So, I think we were luckier than most kids that the stuff we ate was really delicious. Even a bad cook has to feed her kids – we were just lucky to have palatable food to stay alive on! (Note to self: work on a post about favorite dishes from childhood -- and do NOT leave out Macaroni & Milk.)

A perennial favorite at Thanksgiving was a specialty dish that my mom made; homemade noodles. I think this recipe was from her mother, or maybe another family member. A few other cooks in our family have made these noodles, but I’m sure you’ll realize I am not at all biased when I say that Mom’s were just plain better.

After last Thanksgiving, I made turkey stock out of the bird carcass and parts and had a fridge-load of stock afterward. I thought I’d use the stock to make mom’s noodles, but never got around to asking her for the details. This year, I got the very simple list of ingredients, a little of the technique, and I’m determined to serve them alongside the bird next week. When pondering the list, I kept having to fight the urge to think “What if I add a little ground sage to the dough” or “Maybe I should top them with some fresh scallions and parsley?”  I’m going to try to fight that urge and keep them as simple as they always are.

I am a little afraid that they’ll turn into some kind of tough, doughy lump, but in a way, if that happens, it’s almost better. Mom’s noodles should always be better, right?

• 

  OK, so maybe some roasted red peppers...
  2 cups AP flour, plus more for dusting
• 1 tsp salt
• 3 egg yolks
• 1 whole egg
• 3 Tbsp cold water
• 6 + cups of chicken or turkey stock or broth
• more salt and pepper to taste
• butter to taste

In a large shallow bowl or on a work surface, sift together flour and salt. Pile up into the center, then make a well in the middle with your fingers. Place egg yolks,  whole egg and water in the well, and gently stir or knead to combine. Continue to work the dough until it forms a uniform ball and all the flour is absorbed. Wrap the dough ball in plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator to relax, about 15-20 minutes.

Lightly flour a work surface or prepare a pasta maker.  Roll out the dough to about a 1/8 to 1/4 inch thickness, working in two batches if necessary.

If using a pasta maker, use the cutting bar to cut the pasta into noodles, and trim to the desired size. If you don't have a pasta maker, use a pizza cutter to cut the dough into noodles. For a more rough, rustic look, Lightly dust both sides of the dough with flour, roll it up like a jelly roll, and slice the dough crosswise every ½ inch or so. Unroll the long strips and cut again for length if desired.

At this point, you can cook them in the broth, but letting them dry will help them soak up more of whatever liquid you cook them in.  To dry the noodles, hang them over a pasta-drying rack, or on a wire rack, or even on lightly floured cutting board, non-fuzzy kitchen towels or paper towels, though letting air circulate around is best. If drying the noodles flat on a surface, flip them occasionally. Let dry anywhere from 2-8 hours or overnight. Store in the refrigerator in an airtight container if you're not cooking them right away.

When you're ready to cook the noodles, bring the stock up to a boil and carefully put the noodles in.  Season as you like with salt and pepper. Cook the noodles, stirring occasionally, until they are as soft or al dente as you like, about 10 minutes or so.  Add extra broth or water if pot dries out.

Before serving, drain of any excess liquid, reserving a cup or so.  Return the noodles to the pot and mix in a Tablespoon or so of butter to taste. Add a little of the cooking liquid to loosen up the noodles if they are too gummy.  Resist the urge to top them with fresh chopped parsley and serve warm.

AUNT KATHY'S CRANBERRY & ORANGE RELISH

When we had our first Thanksgiving together in San Francisco, Christopher was anxious to make one of his favorite condiments from Thanksgivings of his youth: his Aunt Kathy's Cranberry & Orange Relish. He loves the cranberry sauce part of the Thanksgiving meal, and this one that is whizzed up with whole fresh oranges is especially bright and sweet, and is a nice foil to rich foods like mashed potatoes and, erm, homemade noodles. A note: though the recipe does not call for it, I'd add a dash of salt just to help bring all the flavors out, unless your nuts are already salted. Also, C’pher has never used the optional pineapple, but there it is in the recipe, so give it a go if you like.

• 1 lb. (about 4 cups) fresh cranberries (thawed if frozen)
• 2 whole oranges (peel and all), quartered
• 1 cup sugar (or more to taste)
• 1 cup nuts (almonds, walnuts or your choice)
• 1 small (8 oz.) can of crushed pineapple (optional)

Put cranberries, orange quarters and nuts in a food processor and pulse until chunky, about 5-6 1 second pulses. Transfer to a bowl and mix in sugar (and pineapple, if using). Let sit in the refrigerator for at least 12 hours to allow flavors to combine.

Fresh from a can

CRESCENT ROLLS

Who says traditions can't come from a can?  Buy your favorite brand or what's on sale... they pretty much all taste the same. And by 'same,' I mean 'delicious.'

• 1 or more cans of unbaked crescent rolls from the store

Open and bake rolls according to package instructions.  Bake just before eating and serve hot with plenty of butter.  Allow at least 2-3 per person.

Tips for baking crescent rolls from the Pillsbury website:

1. For best quality, use the dough before the "use-by" date on the package.
2. Store the dough can on a shelf in your refrigerator. Temperatures in the refrigerator's door shelves or in the crisper may be too warm or too cold.
3. Don't freeze the unbaked dough. Freezing unbaked dough may prevent it from rising. (You can freeze baked rolls.)
4. Keep the dough refrigerated until you're ready to use it. Warm dough may be sticky and hard to handle.
5. Opening the can activates the leavening that causes the dough to rise. The dough must be baked within two hours after opening.

(Sources: Mom, Aunt Kathy, and pillsbury.com. See photos for Flickr credits.)

In the first part of this series, we had a little something to whet our appetite. Now... it’s on to the main event: Das Turkey and Gravy!                                   

Now that my beloved Cook’s Illustrated magazine has dashed every last one of my images of the superiority of the Deistel Ranch Free Range Turkeys (voted best tasting by the SF Chronicle), by essentially telling me in their latest issue that – Hey... a frozen bird is just as good, and besides, buying a Kosher bird means no need for brining! – I am obviously re-evaluating my very existence.  Be that as it may, I am so hoping to still convince Christopher to order our fresh Deistel Ranch range-grown bird (at a mere $2.99 a pound!) from Bi-Rite again. I think I’ll try to convince him that we’re really supporting green agriculture and a local store.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

When you’re hosting Thanksgiving dinner, it’s pretty much expected that the bird is up to you.  I remember the year back in North Beach when we did the turkey in the bag, and later I accidentally flushed $15 worth of gorgeous demi-glace from our neighborhood butcher down the drain because I got too distracted and put the strainer in the SINK instead of into a bowl. Ah, memories – and not all happy ones.

 Each year I’ve pretty much cobbled together my methods from experience, what’s available, and various recipes from Cook’s Illustrated, Everyday Food, foodnetwork.com, and other strange and questionable on-line sources, like the one that showed me how to make a pan gravy without flour, so Miss Kay, our gluten-intolerant Gal Friday, could eat some.  
I wouldn’t recommend this method to everyone as it can be fraught with error if you are also providing the rest of the meal, or even big portions of it. Has the turkey been in for 2 hours or 3?  Was I supposed to have added the slurry of corn starch and water NOW, or right before serving?  Have  the crescent rolls been in too long?  And what is this half-cup of chopped rosemary supposed to have gone into?  You get the idea.

So... I’ve done the work for you, by combining instructions from several sources, including my own touches, into the methods you see here. As long as you can really really really prepare ahead of time, make a timeline and stick to it (with allowance for the unexpected) and really keep your shit together, you can definitely pull it off. I’m not exactly the picture of grace under pressure, so if I can have fun and want to do this again and again, you shouldn’t be afraid to try.

BRINED ROASTED TURKEY with SAGE, BUTTER, HERBS and LEMONS
Prep time: 16-30 hours
Total roasting, with resting time while gravy is made: 5 ½ hours

The turkeys we have here in the US for wide commercial distribution have often been bred for size and the lowest common denominator of taste.  That means that cooks are usually trying to add more moisture and taste to turkeys, especially the ever-popular white meat, which is often grown overly huge and can be dry and even bland.  Brining a fresh or frozen (and completely thawed!) turkey makes a big big difference, but I wasn’t always convinced.

The first year we did it, we just tried a simple salt-water brine, and, while not terrible by any means, it lacked that special “it” factor we were hoping for after we’d spend 15 minutes trying to measure out the water and salt, 8 hours of the think taking up most of our fridge with a shelf removed, and another 24 hours drying out in the same spot.  

Last year, though, I added more than just salt, and the results were delightful.  The finished turkey had a stinging onion and pepper snap, and was juicy as all get out, with savory goodness in each bite. The bright and rich flavors of the lemons and herbs from inside the bird not only add to the flavor of the meat, but to the flavor of the good stuff in the pan which will eventually become delicious gravy.

If you’re not using a Koshered bird (which has already been salt-cured), try brining. I really now think it’s worth the bit of added hassle.  If you’ve got the time, don’t skip the air-drying step... it produces a really crisp skin.  Just build an extra day into your timeline and you’re golden.

C'pher diving into the briny deep

For the Turkey and Brine:

• 1 12-14 pound turkey (easily serves 8-10 with leftovers), rinsed thoroughly, giblets and neck reserved for gravy, tailpiece, liver, and any hard plastic shipping collars removed and discarded.

• 1 large food-safe plastic container, big enough to hold the turkey submerged in 2 gallons of water without overflowing.

• 2 gallons water
• 2 cups kosher salt (or 1 cup table salt)
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 2 large yellow onions, quartered, the outer dry layers peeled and discarded
• 1/3 cup black or mixed peppercorns
• 1-2 bay leaves

Fill the container with the water. Add salt and sugar and stir for several minutes to dissolve. Place the turkey in the solution, being sure to have the open cavity facing up so the inside fills with liquid and can be submerged. Reserve half of one onion, and add the rest of the quarters, the peppercorns and bay leaves to the solution. Mix to distribute.

Place a heavy, non-reactive plate or bowl atop the turkey to keep it submerged. Cover the container and place in the refrigerator. Let sit for 6-8 hours, mixing the solution once or twice during the brining, if possible, just to keep the flavors distributed.

Prime real estate, Turkey!

Remove the turkey from the brine and rinse inside and out with cool running water. Pat dry inside and out, and place breast-side up on a wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet (or some other configuration that will keep it from sitting in moisture).  Refrigerate, uncovered, for 8 to 24 hours.

To Prepare the Turkey:

• 1 stick (¼  lb.) softened unsalted butter
• salt & pepper
• 2 large lemons, cleaned and quartered
• 1 large yellow onion, peeled, trimmed, and quartered
• sprigs of fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage, cleaned
• 1 head of Garlic, topped, and cut in half
• 4-6 large carrots, topped and halved cross-wise
• 2-3 stalks celery, cleaned and halved cross-wise

Adjust the oven rack to the lowest position, and pre-heat the oven to 350º F. Bring the turkey to room temperature while you prepare the vegetables, herbs and lemons.  Reserve several whole sage leaves, a sprig or two of rosemary, half of the onion, and half the head of garlic.  Also reserve half the carrots and celery with about 1 Tbsp of all the fresh herbs. Keep them with the onion half you used for the brine (if you still have it).  Tie the remaining herbs in a bundle with kitchen twine if you wish.

With the turkey on a flat work-surface, carefully work your hand under the skin of the breast, thigh and drumstick areas, taking care to tear the skin as little as possible. Once loose, transfer the turkey to the roasting rack you’ll be using.

Take the butter a couple of tablespoons at a time and rub it under the skin of the turkey, on the outside of the skin, inside the cavity and all around the bird. Distribute salt and pepper the same way. Take the whole sage leaves, coated in a little bit of butter, and slid them under the skin in as decorative a pattern as you can manage, especially over the breast.

Take the herb bundle, onion, garlic, and lemons and stuff them inside the cavity – stuff a few pieces into the neck cavity and close it up by folding the remaining loose skin and fastening with skewers or trussing needles.  Bend the wing tips, snapping the bones a little if necessary, under the main body of the turkey to prevent them burning too much. With a trussing kit or kitchen twine, tie up the legs and close the opening so the stuffing won’t fall out, making sure the string is well coated with butter.

Place the reserved rosemary, the remaining onion quarters, and the remaining half head of garlic (individual cloves broken up) in the bottom of the roasting pan with the 2-3 carrots,  and 1-2 celery stalks, keeping herbs and vegetables close to the middle of the pan.  Place the roasting rack atop them, being sure it’s stable and not actually sitting directly on any of them. (If you do not have a roasting rack, use a few extra whole large carrots to fashion one for the turkey to sit on.)

Tent turkey loosely with foil, but leave a space big enough for adding water to the roasting pan. Place the pan in the oven and then add 4-6 cups water.  Close oven and roast without disturbing for 1 hour. Then, remove from oven and baste every 30 minutes with pan juices, adding extra water if necessary, until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh (avoiding the bone) registers 125º F, about 3 hours.

Remove foil; raise oven temperature to 400º F. Continue roasting, basting occassionally, until thigh temperature reaches 180º F, 45-60 minutes more. Tent with foil if the turkey browns too quickly.

Remove pan from oven, and transfer turkey to cutting board (or serving platter if presenting it whole at tableside before carving), cover loosely with foil, and let it rest for at least 30 minutes before carving.

TURKEY GRAVY
with a gluten-free variation

Reserved from earlier portions of these recipes:

• turkey neck and giblets, roughly chopped
• ½ large yellow onion, chopped (about ½ cup or more)
• 2-3 large carrots, peeled and chopped (about ½ cup or more)
• 1-2 stalks celery, cleaned and chopped
• 1 scant Tbsp each fresh rosemary, thyme and sage, roughly chopped

Additionally:

• ½ stick (4 Tbsp) unsalted butter
• 2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
• 8 cups chicken or turkey broth or stock
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 cup dry white wine
• ½ cup AP flour*
• salt & pepper

While the turkey roasts, prepare turkey parts, vegetables, and herbs.  In a large, heavy saucepan (big enough to hold 8 cups of broth), melt 3 Tbsp butter, and cook neck and giblets, onion, carrots, celery and garlic until evenly browned, about 15 minutes. Add the broth, herbs, bay leaf; cover and simmer over medium-low heat for about 2 hours. Strain off solids, and keep resultant broth warm.

When turkey is done, remove roasting rack from pan, and set rack across two burners on the stovetop set to medium-low heat. Deglaze the pan; pour wine into pan and reduce by half, scraping up any brown bits with a wooden spoon.  Remove any large solids, and pour the liquid through a sieve into fat-separating measuring cup (alternatively, put the liquid in a regular measuring cup and put the whole thing in the freezer for a few minutes to separate the fat from the liquid).  Ladle off ½ cup of the fat and discard the rest. Add the wine liquid to the broth base, and increase the heat if necessary to be sure it is hot.

Return the roasting pan or a large skillet to medium-high heat. Warm the ½ cup of fat (or add some more butter if you don’t have enough fat from the liquid) into the roasting pan, and once heated, sprinkle the flour evenly over it, and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the flour begins to bown slightly and smells toasty, about 4 minutes.

Switch to a whisk, then gradually and carefully ladle the hot broth into the pan while whisking constantly, breaking up any lumps you see.

Bring the gravy to a boil, then adjust the heat so it simmers gently. Skim and discard any excess fat. Add any accumulated juices from the turkey carving process to the gravy, and continue to whisk until the gravy is thickened, about 10 minutes. Season with salt & pepper to taste.

*To make this gravy gluten-free, omit the flour.  Instead, once the excess fat is skimmed from the deglazing, reserve ¼ cup of either liquid and be sure it is cooled off.  Then return the wine mixture to the pan, add the broth and heat to a simmer.

Now you’ll use the reserved cool liquid to make a slurry; a mixture of cornstarch and liquid.  You’ll essentially want 2 teaspoons of cornstarch for every cup of liquid. In this case (about 8 cups of liquid), you’ll need 4 Tbsp plus another 2 tsp cornstarch.   Add this to the cooled, reserved liquid and stir well to dissolve. Then pour the slurry into the pan with the rest and stir until gravy is thick and smooth, about a minute.

(Sources: Cooks Illustrated #77 Nov/Dec '05,  and cooksillustrated.com, Every day Food #27 Nov '05, foodnetwork.com, and post-gazette.com's In the Kitchen with Suzanne Martinson.)

When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was one of my all-time favorite days off from school. We were typically home in the morning and early afternoon, the smell of my Mom's incredibly delicious homemade noodles wafting through the house, while I watched very special Thanksgiving episodes of The Doctors, Days of Our Lives, As The World Turns, Capitol, and Guiding Light. Oh, and The Price Is Right. You do NOT miss Bob Barker on a day home from school, yo.
 
So, in my pre-cooking days, my role at Thanksgiving was to show up and eat, and like most kids, I didn't think anything of it. I win the wishbone pull, so hand me that last crescent roll, please.  Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
 
For the past three years, C'pher and I have hosted Thanksgiving at our house, which means that, even though we're generally only responsible for the Turkey, gravy, and 8-10 matching plates, napkins, and wine glasses, I still feel considerably busier than during Thanksgivings of yore, when my biggest task all day was staying awake through yet ANOTHER teary scene between Roman and Marlena. Eesh.
 
Each year we seem to have a different, disparate and fabulous group of November orphans with no place to go, so each year we get a slightly different mix of people, and the result is always a wonderfully fun and festive afternoon-into-evening, full of all the best reasons to give thanks: food, friends, and the good fortune to be able to enjoy both.

All this week, I'll be sharing what I think are the makings of a delicious Thanksgiving meal, most all of which have been part of our celebration at one point or another. I hope you'll be able to pick and choose from among them, whether you're hosting or guest-starring, and contribute to whatever meal you'll be sharing for Thanksgiving. I think it makes a great meal as is, but how many Thanksgivings have you been to that you haven't taken something to?  I mean... aside from when you were ten?

What you eat before you eat so you can eat: The Appetizers

Serving appetizers at a Thanksgiving meal is almost asking for trouble.  On the one hand, you can't have everyone drinking themselves into a stupor on Gloria Ferrer Blanc de Blancs and Beaujolais Nouveau on an empty stomach.  On the other, you don't want folks to gorge themselves on crudités and cheese only to throw their hands up in surrender by the time you get to the main event.

I have tried to choose satisfying but small bites to start out with. Things that go well with cocktails or champers but won't take up valuable real estate in the small intestine.  Thanksgiving often about excess, but even excessive eaters will beg for a tongue depressor and 20 minutes in a locked bathroom if you don't pace things correctly. And personally, my bathroom is clean and all, but I'd just as soon my guests didn't have to get an up close and personal look at the underside of my toilet seat, you know?

Now that I've alienated half of you with my bathroom talk, let's get to it.

SESAME AND ROQUEFORT BISCUITS

I've posted this recipe once before and linked to it many times over, but it bears repeating here. These beauties, first served to me by C'pher's pal and now ex-colleague Leigh and her husband Rick, go perfectly with red wine and won't fill you up unless you devour the whole bowl yourself, which you may be tempted to do, so reign it in, buster.

The dough is very very loose, so if you're fighting to keep it cohesive, don't be afraid to sprinkle a little milk (whole, preferably) a teaspoon at a time. The end result won't change much.  The dough can be made ahead and chilled for up to 2 days, and though I've never tried it, Leigh adds that the finished product freezes very well.

• 1 ¼ cups self-rising flour (recipe follows)
• 1 stick (½ cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• ¼ lb. chilled Roquefort cheese such as Le Vieux Berger, Société, or Le Papillon, crumbled (1 cup)
• 1/3 cup sesame seeds (2 oz.)

Pulse flour and butter in a food processor until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Sprinkle cheese into mixture and pulse a few times to incorporate. Transfer mixture to a work surface (it will be crumbly) and knead briefly to distribute ingredients (do not overwork), then press together to form a dough and roll into a 7-inch log (about 2 inches in diameter). Wrap tightly in plastic wrap and chill until firm, at least 1 hour.

Put oven rack in middle of oven and preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a large baking sheet.

Put sesame seeds on a plate. Cut dough into scant ¼-inch-thick slices with a thin sharp knife, then gently press both sides of each biscuit in sesame seeds to coat and arrange ½ inch apart on baking sheet.

Bake until golden, 10 to 15 minutes. Cool biscuits on baking sheet on a rack 2 to 3 minutes, then transfer with a spatula to rack to cool completely.

(Source: Gourmet magazine, December 2004)

SELF-RISING FLOUR

Whether you buy or make this stuff, don't leave it sitting around longer than 4-6 months, as baking powder starts to lose some of it's kick in time.

1 cup sifted cake flour
½  tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt

Sift all items together well, and use in place of store-bought self rising flour.

SPICED ALMONDS

And speaking of champers... if these beauties are good enough for the staff at Gloria Ferrer to serve in their tasting room alongside their many fine sparkling wines, certainly they're good enough for your dinner table.  And no one ever fills up on almonds -- just put out a small amount and replenish if you think it necessary.  Guests will temper their gluttony if they think these are in short supply!

• 1 cup whole blanched almonds
• 1 tsp extra virgin olive oil
• ½  tsp sea salt
• ¼ tsp or more smoked paprika  (Spanish pimenton de La Vera)

Preheat oven 300º F. Transfer almonds to a heavy baking sheet. Drizzle them with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, then toss with your hands to coat evenly. Bake until golden brown and fragrant, about 30 minutes, stirring them well halfway through.

Transfer the nuts to a bowl and toss with enough paprika  to dust all the nuts. Add more salt if necessary. Put the nuts on a paper towel in a single layer and cool completely before serving.

   

AVOCADO-CUCUMBER SOUP WITH SHRIMP

More often than not, Thanksgiving in San Francisco means lovely warm weather, and since our place has floor-to-ceiling windows with eastern and southern exposures, it warms up pretty quickly sometimes. This summery dish was an attempt to introduce a little something cool to get the gastric juices a-flowin' while the sun was still shining in.  Also, I really like the idea of including a little seafood, since it often gets overlooked on a traditional Thanksgiving menu.

Note that this recipe calls for cilantro, and while I really love it, it remains on many people's gag list (C'pher is included in this group).  You can make it with fresh flat-leaf parsley if you want, and it still tastes nice. The shrimp is also easy to leave off if folks are shellfish-averse. More for me, I always say!

• 1 English cucumber, peeled and cut into ¼-inch cubes (about 2 cups)
• 2 avocados, pitted and peeled
• ½ cup low-fat plain yogurt
• 3 Tbsp fresh lime juice
• 1 minced small jalapeno chile (seeds and ribs removed for less heat, if desired)
• 1/3 cup sliced scallions
• 2 Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
• Coarse salt and ground pepper
• 1 tsp olive oil
• 12 medium shrimp (about 6 oz.), peeled and deveined

In a blender, combine half the cucumber and 1 avocado with the yogurt, lime juice, jalapeño, scallions, 1 tablespoon cilantro, 1 cup ice water, 1 ½ teaspoons salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Purée until completely smooth. Transfer to a large bowl.
Cut remaining avocado into 1/4-inch cubes. Stir avocado and remaining cucumber into soup. Thin with ½ to 1 cup ice water, as desired. Season again with salt and pepper. Chill, about 1 hour.
In a large skillet, heat oil over medium-high heat. Cook shrimp, turning once, until opaque throughout, 2 to 3 minutes. Ladle soup into bowls; garnish with shrimp and remaining tablespoon cilantro.  Serves 4.

(Source: Everyday Food magazine #14, July/August 2004)

I think it's now time for me to finally reveal the secret to a happy workplace: Make, eat and share home-made, or at least freshly-made, food. I know it seems simple, but where I work, the positive results couldn't be more evident.  Take for example how most folks handle the office birthday celebration. Someone remembers the day of the event much too late, someone else has to run out to the nearest crappy supermarket bakery and buy a nasty whipped-cream-frosting sheet cake, and someone else runs to Walgreens to pick up an unfunny card that everyone signs to give the honoree just as she's attempting to scoot out the door early.  Bleah.

None of that happens where I work.  You see, for years, we had a too-good-to-be-true system: one woman would come to you the day before your birthday and say "brownies, lemon bars, or spice cake?"  Licking your lips, you'd make your selection, and the next day, she'd come in with two disposable aluminum tins of her own home-baked tasty brownies (I doubt they were from scratch, but please... who cared!), one with nuts and one without. Everyone would beg you to cut the first piece so everyone could dive in.  In my case, I always chose lemon bars, since hers were exceptionally amazing, but really, we loved it all.  Every once in a while, someone else would volunteer to bake for a special office friend, but mostly she churned out pans of brownies that had an extremely short life-expectancy.

Then the unthinkable happened... our office baker retired! Wild-eyed and desperate, we decided we'd have to think outside the box.  No one really wanted to take up her mantle, so that option was out. Would we descend into the half-vanilla/ half-chocolate cake with a raspberry layer in between with gross white icing and those crappy candy confetti flakes? A cake almost destined to be mostly pitched, uneaten, two days later?

The answer was no because someone hit upon a freaking genius idea: it's your birthday... YOU bring the treat! Now, I know that definitely departs from the American view that everything should be done and bought for you on your birthday, but Jenny recently reminded us that, according to her Spanish teacher anyway, the tradition in Mexico is to take all your friends out for drinks. So... why not!

In fact, this plan has worked out wonderfully. There is no pressure to spend a certain amount, to bring the treat in on your actual birthday if it's inconvenient, or even to make something yourself. Some folks bring in bagels and schmear. Some bring in full catered lunches. One vegan gal brought in the most AMAZING vegan chocolate cake I've ever had made by a local vegan restaurant. The point is: it's your birthday -- you choose the what and the when.  Brilliant!

Since I take baked stuff into the office all the time (who wants to keep it sitting around the house?), it's pretty much expected that I'll be bringing something that has sugar, flour, butter and has spent 30 to 45 minutes in a 350° oven.  Since my birthday is in August, my mom -- a really great baker, especially of pies -- would almost always take advantage of all the fresh blackberries growing in a gigantic patch down the road from our house. We had blackberry cakes and pies, but  her blackberry cobbler was not to be missed.

Since I've lately been on a sort of "Pie Crust Quest," I thought I'd treat myself and my office pals to a summer cobbler like I had back home. Blackberries aren't so prevalent here in California as they were in the West Virginia of my youth, so I had to make a slightly different choice. Fortunately, we're blessed with an undeniable bounty of excellent summer fruit, and stone fruit are some of my favorite.  To Frog Hollow, driver, and be quick about it!

Once BART whisked me to the Ferry Building, I got myself a bag full of Frog Hollow Farm's fresh peaches and nectarines (the varietal names escape me now), and a flip through the pages of the trusty King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion found me just what I was looking for: a recipe for a fruit-under-pastry cobbler.  Oh, Baker's Companion... how have I lived without you for so long?

Perhaps it is here that I should mention that, just two pages later, there was a recipe that every unsure pastry maker should see...  it's called Apple Pandowdy, a dessert many of us only know from an old June Christy song (Well... maybe that's only if you're me, come to think of it...). Pandowdy (or Pan Dowdy) is essentially like my mom's cobbler, except that, after baking, the baker takes a fork and 'dowdies' the crust into big pieces that sink into the liquid interior and become almost pudding like. I'm guessing that if you dont' like the way your crust turns out looking, you can just 'dowdy' away and, like Pee-Wee Herman before you, simply say upon serving, "I meant to do that."

When I was assembling my ingredients for this experiment (the cobbler recipe in the cookbook called for peaches and raspberries, but I didn't have or want the raspberries), I again recalled the amazing little tartlet I had last summer at the Granville Island Market in Vancouver... the one that had fresh peaches sprinkled with fresh rosemary.  That combination was so unusual and delicious that when I saw the sprigs of rosemary idling in their glass nearby, I just knew I had to use some.

Not too long later, I had cobbled together something that looked impressive enough to mark my late-late 30s. It also looked rather small, so I whipped up a dozen or so oatmeal cookies just to be sure. In the end, my co-workers seemed very satisfied, even given the unusual flavor combination in the cobbler. I did get the requisite card signed by everyone... but ours are always funny, I assure you.  Maybe our Walgreens are just better than yours.

PEACH AND NECTARINE COBBLER WITH ROSEMARY
(fruit under a pie crust)

There are certain definitions of what makes a crumble, a crisp, a slump, a grunt, a buckle... but when it comes to cobbler, the definitions get a little misty. Is it fruit baked atop a cake crust?  Is it fruit under a cake crust? Is it fruit under a biscuit crust? Or is it, like my mom would make, fruit under a pastry crust?  The anwer: yes, yes, yes, and most definitely YES.  Using that last method and just chunking up, or 'dowdy-ing,' the baked crust before serving makes it a pandowdy. Now you know... and knowing is half the battle.

The important part is that it shouldn't be a long involved process... it should be "cobbled" together. A rather American reaction to fancy European pastry, I'm sure... and a nice way of absolving the home baker from having to turn out something that looks professionally made. I'm all for that!  "It's supposed to look 'rustic'" is one of my favorite phrases.

When I decided to incorporate some fresh rosemary a la that amazing tart I had in Vancouver, I admit that I got a little carried away. I probably added a full 2 tablespoons of the stuff to the mix, and it some of it wasn't minced up quite as small as it should have been.  That made for an unpleasant moment or two when I had to pick a bigger piece out of my teeth while eating. Even with all I used, the rosemary taste wasn't overpowering at all... in fact it seems to compliement peaches in such a way that you'll wonder why you've never had it before. Just add it to taste and chop it up finely or be sure to have toothpicks on hand with the dessert forks.

Call me dowdy at your own peril.

Though I slimply pitted and sliced the nectaries (my favorite summer fruit), I blanched and peeled the peaches: score the bottom with shallow X, and submerge them, a couple at a time, in bolling water for about a mintue, flipping them partway through. Dunk them into an ice bath right away, then peel when they are cool enough to handle.  The resulting water in your pan with be somewhat infused with peach juice and essence. The last time I made peach pie, I actually saved this liquid, added sugar and reduced it down to what I hoped would be a lovely peach syrup. However... I reduced a BIT too far, and ended up with a crystalized mess of lumpy, purplish sugar sludge. Oops!

For whatever reason, I saved this stuff, too, and when I made my cobbler, instead of just putting granulated sugar in the fruit mix, I used the sugar sludge. It dissolved nicely and tasted great!  I'm not sure how much difference it made, but at least my experiment in syrup-making wasn't a total loss. Keep your failures... they could lead to future successes!

CRUST
1 cup (4¼ oz.) unbleached AP flour
¼ tsp salt
4 Tbsp (½ stick, 2 oz.) cold unsalted butter
¼ cup (1 5/8 oz.) cold vegetable shortening
2 to 4 Tbsp (1 to 2 oz.) ice water
1 tsp granulated sugar (optional)

FILLING
4-5 peeled, pitted, and sliced large peaches
and
4-5 pitted and sliced large nectarines
(total fruit should be around 5-6 cups)
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon fresh lemon zest
1 -2 Tbsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped
¾  to 1 cup (5¾  to 7 oz.) granulated sugar (to taste)
1 Tbsp cornstarch (use an additonal Tbsp if fruit is especially juicy)
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1 egg beaten with 1 Tbsp water (optional)
2 Tbsp coarse white or turbinado sugar for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Butter a 6-cup casserole dish, or a 9-inch round cake pan or deep pie dish. Whisk the flour and salt in a medium-sized mixing bowl, or use a food processor, then cut or pulse in  the butter and shortening until the mixture is coarse and crumbly. Add just enough ice water to form a cohesive dough (bring the dough together with your hands, or if using a food processor, pulse just enough times for th dough to form a ball in the bowl).  Wrap the dough and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

While the dough chills, combine the peaches, nectarines, lemon juice, zest, and rosemary. Mix together the sugar, cornstarch, salt, salt and nutmeg and stir into the fruit. Spoon the filling into the prepared dish.

Roll out the crust into a shape big enough to cover the top of the dish.  Trim and crimp edges as desired.  At this point, you can brush on the beaten egg and sprinkle the coarse sugar if desired. Cut several vents in the top and bake cobbler.

Bake for 15 mintues at 425°F, then reduce oven heat to 350°F and bake for an additional 40-45 minutes until the crust is golden and the juices are bubbling. Remove cobbler from the oven and cool completely on a wire rack before eating. Serve with a dollop of creme fraiche or whipped cream (sweetened or unsweetened), or with good vanilla ice cream.

Not long ago, our friend Rebecca had a birthday party.  I suppose we could've shopped for a lovely card or precious giftie or something, but if you're a glutton for punishment like me, you'd probably rather do something like come home from an unusually busy day of work, throw open the cupboard doors, see what ingredients wait there, and mix up something home-baked to give her.

Of course, I exaggerate. I honestly enjoy baking, especially when I can forget everything else and dive into a recipe I've been meaning to try. And Rebecca has always been very complimentary of my concoctions, so it made sense.

When I saw that box of Droste Dutch-process cocoa and the two gigantic bars of Scharffen Berger 70%, I knew I was headed in the right direction, but when I spied the bag of Trader Joe's dried cherries, I had decided. It was time to try the Black Forest Cookies from Everyday Food.

Before you could say "Ich bin ein Berliner," I was melting chocolate and measuring sugar. I guess I must have been paying more attention to whatever podcast I was listening to (that Lynn Rosetto Kasper can be plenty distracting) or to prepping the oven for convection baking so I could finish all the cookies at once, because I made the classic amateur baker blunder that assures me that no matter how many of my friends who say "You should do this for a living," I cerainly never will.

I forgot to chill the dough.

See... you melt the butter along with the chocolate (it really helps things along, especially in a double boiler), but once you mix in the dry ingredients, the dough needs a moment to rest so the combined fats can get cold enough to create some layers of goodness once the cookies bake. I though it was odd that the dough was pretty warm and oily when I scooped it onto the baking sheets, and when it hit the oven already warm, the cookies just spread like Jenna Jamison at her senior prom.  So much for reading the recipe fully!

Naturally, I made this tragic discovery only AFTER the cookies were mixed and in the oven.  Grimacing, I watched the cookies bake up weirdly, and when I finally got them out of the oven, they just barely held together.  Was my last minute gift going to turn out a last minute gaffe? 

Surprisingly enough, the cookies were really pretty good, if mis-shapen and a bit crumbly. Cookies this chocolatey wouldn't really be eaten without milk or coffee or something, so the fact that they were a teensy on the dry side made little difference. 

Rebecca really liked the cookies. In fact, she took one look under the lid of the tin I put them in when C'pher handed it to her at the party and quickly hid them away. "Oh... there's no way I'm sharing these!" she said. Now that's the kind of reaction every baker hopes for.

Mis en place I got down pat

BLACK FOREST COOKIES

There are two things I should say about these cookies. Don't make them if you don't like chocolate, and don't dismiss them even if you think you don't like chocolate with cherries. Dried cherries, especially good ones, are tart, a bit sweet and a bit chewy, and they will never be mistaken for raisins, nuts, or worse... that nasty glaceed fruit like you see in fruitcakes. Ick. 

While the Black Forest Cake most of us know essentially has cherry pie filling on top and in between the layers, the cherries in these cookies are an integral part of the dough, and sometimes can't be told apart from the chocolate chunks you bit into while you munch. Try it... you'll like it!

Serve with plenty of iced cold milk or a nice big cup of cafe au lait.  Makes 3 dozen cookies.

1 cup AP flour
2 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
8 oz. semisweet chocolate, chopped
½ cup unsalted butter, cut in small pieces
½ cup sugar
¼ cup dark brown sugar, packed
2 large eggs
12 oz. semisweet chocolate chunks
1½ cups dried cherries

1. 

   Sealed away, home.
   Preheat oven to 350. Line three baking sheets with parchment. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt; set aside.
2. Place chopped chocolate and butter in a large heatproof bowl set over a pan of simmering water; stir until melted and smooth. Remove from heat; whisk in sugars, then eggs til smooth.
3. Whisk in dry ingredients just until combined (do not over mix). Fold in chocolate chunks and cherries; press plastic wrap onto surface of dough and refrigerate 30 to 45 minutes.
4. Drop mounds of dough (equal to 2 level tablespoons), about 2 inches apart, onto prepared sheets. Bake just until edges are firm (but not darkening) 11 to 13 minutes. Cool on baking sheets 1 to 2 minutes; transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Even in San Francisco where summer weather can sometimes be colder than fall in other American climes, we still love to have picnics.  So when we planned for a sunny afternoon in Dolores Park recently, we knew we had to do it... a fried chicken taste off.

The contenders matched up: an 11-piece Extra Crispy Bucket from KFC  vs. a 12-piece box of Popeye's, half Classic Mild and half New Orleans Spicy.  The eaters: Me, C, Harold, Jenny, and... well, it was pretty much just us, as for some reason, Molly and John didn't want any. I guess their fingers are strictly for activities other than lickin'.  Whatever... we had plenty to go around.

As we sweltered in the unseasonable heat (80s in the full sun...ugh!), we munched and weighed. Careful notes were taken. And by taken, I mean not taken.

It was all delicious, but without a doubt, the hands-down, undisputed, king of the fried chicken was crowned, and the crown was engraved with the phrase "I Yam What I Yam."  That's right... though the Colonel's fine product made an excellent showing, Popeye's burned past it with alarming speed.  You heard it here, folks. When in the fried chicken mood (you know the mood I mean), buy you some Popeye's, hear?

Oh, and we ate some corn salad, too.

Fresh taste to the world

KYLE'S PICNIC TOMATO & CORN SALAD

This simple, colorful, and fresh salad is perfect for picnics: It has all the cleanest, most summery ingredients you can find, it has nothing that'll go bad from sitting in the sun, and you can even add an element of eater interaction. If you're not serving it as a smart side dish that compliments fatty foods (like... er, fried chicken), you can easily add some cheese (crumbly queso fresco or feta) or another protein (tofu, cubed turkey, or... er, fried chicken) and serve it as a refreshing and filling meal.

A brief note about the cherry tomatoes... be sure they are the best, sweetest, most bite sized you can find. There is a reason we make this salad in summer!  I think using bigger tomatoes, even if they are halved or quartered grape tomatoes, is a mistake since they'll introduce too much acidic juice into the salad, breaking things down in a way that won't be super appetizing. What I was looking for was a little tang from the lime juice, a little bite from the onion, a little sweetness from the corn, and a little of all three from the tomatoes.

These proportions will make enough to give 9 or so people a lovely little half-cup or so portion, but you can easily adjust up or down to the size of your group.  I like this combination of flavors (hence my name on the 'recipe'), but feel free to doctor it up to your own tastes... and let me know how it turns out!

• 6 ears fresh sweet corn (yeilding about 4 + cups)
• 1 medium red onion (about 1 cup)
• 2 - 3 pints sweet cherry tomatoes
• ¼ cup fresh parsley
• ½ tsp coarse salt
• ½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 3 Tbsp olive oil
• 1 Tbsp fresh-squeezed lime juice
• extra salt & pepper and lime wedges for garnish

Put on a large pot of water to boil while you shuck and clean the ears of corn.  Once the water has boiled, add a teaspoon or two of salt, and put the corn in, cooking in batches if necessary, until corn has begun to cook, about 10 minutes.  Set ears aside to cool.

While the corn is cooking, chop onion into bite-sized dice.  Soak them in a bowl of ice water to take some of the excess bite away after they are chopped.  Rinse tomatoes, discarding any stems or spoiled fruit.

When corn is cool enough to handle, use a large, strong, sharp knife to carefully cut the ears in half cross-wise. One at a time, set the half ears on their flattest end, and use a knife to slice off the kernels, turning the ear as you go.  Reserve kernels in a large bowl.

Help yourself

Add the tomatoes and the drained onions to the bowl. Roughly chop the parsley and add it to the bowl. Sprinkle a ½ tsp each salt and pepper over the bowl, add the olive oil and the lime juice and toss all ingredients to combine.  Let sit in a cool spot at least 20 minutes to allow time for flavors to combine.

If desired, portion out into small containers for each guest. Include a lime wedge to squeeze before eating. Take along a small container of a mix of more coarse salt and fresh pepper to add as well.