I have a little problem. I'm addicted to cookbooks, food writing, recipe collecting, and cooking. I have a lot of recipes waiting for me to try them, and ideas from articles, tv, and restaurants often lead to new dishes. I started losing track of what I've done. So now I'm taking photos and writing about what I've prepared—unless it's terrible in which case I forget it ever happened.
There was a great article in last month’s Saveur about artichokes, and that’s where I found this recipe. Here in Austin, I only ever see globe artichokes and on rare occasions a purple variety. So, when I noticed that this recipe was made with baby artichokes, I thought I would have to just go with large ones and cut them into smaller pieces once cleaned. Off I went to Whole Foods where I found some lovely, giant globe artichokes and as I piled them into my cart a nice woman struck up a conversation. She asked how I planned to use them and went on to tell me about the amazing stuffed artichokes she once enjoyed in Italy. I explained that I wished I could find the baby size but was going to make do. And, then she said that she just saw some baby artichokes right over there. Perfect. Today’s lesson: always engage in conversations with strangers when grocery shopping. You never know what you might learn. I was thrilled to bring home baby artichokes and got right to work on this dish.
First, the artichokes were cleaned, trimmed, halved and left to soak in acidulated water. If you click on the link above for this recipe, there is also a handy slideshow of the steps taken to clean baby artichokes. Next, oil was heated in a dutch oven and garlic, carrots, and dried porcini were added. Once cooked until soft, chopped pieces of boneless chicken were seasoned and added to the pan with some tomato paste. Chicken thighs were recommended, but I had boneless breasts in the refrigerator and used those instead. The chicken cooked until browned, and then white wine vinegar was added which began the sauce and deglazed the pan. The artichokes were drained and placed in the pan along with Mexican mint marigold (or tarragon) and chicken broth. This was brought to a boil and then simmered for 40 minutes. Near the end of the simmering time, fettuccine was cooked separately in boiling water. It was drained, some of the pasta boiling water was reserved, and the pasta was added to the dutch oven. Grated parmigiano reggiano was stirred in, and some pasta water was used to extend the sauce.
This was a fantastic, hearty meal that’s a little difficult to describe. It was earthy with layers of flavor, yet it was spring-like and not heavy. The sauce was not thick or rich, but the simmering had transformed all the parts into something quite interesting that paired very nicely with artichokes and chicken. The few mushrooms were just enough to provide a woodsy note, and the vinegar’s acidity played its part. I’m lacking a good way to sum up how great this actually tasted, so you’ll just have to try it. And, I’ll have to make it a few more times until I can figure out how to explain it better.
If there is one thing my Mom and I most certainly have in common it is our weakness for caramels. When I lived at home and we’d go out running errands or shopping, we always found an excuse to stop by the candy store where we got our praline fix. Caramel with pecans is a match that’s meant to be. So, for Mother’s Day, I decided to make some homemade caramels for Mom, and I turned again to Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich. Each time I use this book, I appreciate it more. There’s a preciseness to the flavor combinations and an intentional simplicity which allows certain flavors to come forward. I previously made the fleur de sel caramels which were positively incredible. That recipe is found in the ‘flavors of herbs and spices, flowers and leaves’ section, and it, of course, highlighted the play of salt vs sweet. The caramels I made for Mom, are from the ‘flavors of honey and sugar’ section, and Medrich recommends experimenting with different honeys for this. I could do that on an on-going basis and run out honey varieties before getting tired of the caramels.
I chose a local, Texas wildflower honey for these. The honey was combined with corn syrup, sugar, and salt in a saucepan and cooked until simmering. A candy thermometer was attached to the pan, and the mixture was brought up to 305 degrees F. At the same time, cream was warmed in a small saucepan. Butter was added to the honey mixture off the heat, and then the cream was stirred in as well. It was returned to the stove and brought up to 245 degrees F, and then there was the opportunity to decide how chewy you want your caramels. For soft chewy, you let it go to 248 degrees, and for firmer chewy, it goes to 250. I chose soft, and at 248 and not a degree higher, I turned off the heat, added the vanilla, and poured the bubbly goodness over some pecans in a pan lined with buttered foil. Medrich suggested walnuts, but I used pecans. See above statement regarding caramel and pecans.
I left the pan of caramel to cool overnight, and cut it into pieces the next day. These were much stickier than the sea salt caramels I made before. I’m not sure if that was due to the honey or our off-the-charts humidity. Or, maybe I let the sea salt caramels get to a slightly higher temperature, and they set up to a firmer state. Storing them in the refrigerator also makes them firmer, and some chilling time made them easier to cut. Were they delicious? Let me just say that cutting and wrapping them individually in cellophane was slow going. I ate every other one I cut and then had to pause and rinse my hands so as not to leave sticky fingerprints on the cellophane. I finally wrapped enough of them to fill a box for Mom. The rest are mine, and I’m not sharing.
I caught a little bit of Barefoot Contessa on the Foodnetwork the other day, and I saw her making this soup. This was just a potato leek soup, but when I watch her show, I get completely drawn in to whatever she’s making. It doesn’t matter if it’s something I don’t even eat, like beef tenderloin, I still become mesmerized. I’ll start thinking of how Kurt would like that, or I can make this when we have some friends over for dinner. Whatever Ina’s cooking, it always looks good, and I always want to run and cook it too. Potato leek soup is pretty straightforward, and I’ve made it many times, but Ina turned this version of it into something special. Instead of boiling the vegetables in the broth and then pureeing the soup, the vegetables were roasted in the oven.
Potatoes and leeks were chopped, tossed with olive oil and salt and pepper and roasted until tender. Then, arugula was added to the pan and roasted until wilted. I cleared the end-of-season arugula from my garden last weekend and used the last small, upper leaves for this. The roasted vegetables were then placed on top of the stove, and wine and chicken stock were added. That combination was then pureed in a food processor, in batches, with additional chicken stock. Once pureed, it was returned to a pot on the stove, more stock was added to achieve whatever consistency you might prefer, and then the recipe started getting rich. An eight ounce container of creme fraiche was stirred into the soup along with some grated parmigiano, and three quarters of a cup of cream was suggested. Now, I do love Ina and I’m no prude when it comes to cream and butter, but I just couldn’t do it after the creme fraiche. I used two percent milk instead. Trust me when I say it didn’t weaken this soup. First you can control the thickness during the pureeing and adding of chicken stock, so I already had a nicely thick soup. And, the richness was definitely not lacking because of my milk substitution. Last, a little more wine was added and the seasoning was adjusted.
The soup was served with crispy shallots on top and some parmesan cheese bread on the side. It was incredible. It had great flavor from the roasting, and the arugula added a little pepperiness and fresh, green flecks. The dairy richness and salty bite of the cheese were exactly right with the vegetables. Just watching it being made on television convinced me it would probably be good, but I had no idea. I wanted to curl up and take a nap in this soup. Dare I say, this may very well be the mac and cheese of soup. It is comfort food as it should be, and you can use the cream if you want, but it really didn’t even need it.
Last Tuesday, I was reading a post on Cooked Books when I had to stop everything. You see, Rebecca mentioned that there’s a recipe archive on Babbo’s web site. Well, that set off a flurry of clicks, and I couldn’t get my printer flicked on fast enough. Babbo’s recipes are right there, ordered alphabetically, free for all. I don’t know how often the archive is updated or how complete it is or isn’t, but I quickly found several recipes to stack on top of my to-cook pile. The first of those was this panna cotta with rhubarb from Gina DePalma.
Part two of this story is that I had never before in my life cooked rhubarb. I have no excuse either, so it is clearly my Mom’s fault. She never cooked rhubarb that I remember, so I had no history with it at home. I’ve eaten it but never cooked it or had it at home. I had no idea what I was missing. It’s so easy, and it just makes a nice, thick sauce all by itself. And, now there’s sure to be rhubarb in my kitchen each time it’s in season. For this marmellata, it was chopped in one-quarter inch thick slices and cooked until soft with sugar and the scrapings of a vanilla bean. That was allowed to cool. For the panna cotta, gelatin sheets were softened while cream, sugar, lemon zest, and saffron threads were brought to a boil in a saucepan. That was left to steep for 10 minutes before the gelatin sheets were squeezed and added. Once the gelatin dissolved, the mixture was poured through a sieve, milk was added, and this was poured into ramekins. The ramekins were chilled until set.
To serve, the panna cotta was gracefully turned out of the ramekins, and the rhubarb marmellata was spooned on top. In reality, as I plopped the first serving out of its ramekin, it of course fell apart and broke into blobs on the plate. I had to try two more times before getting a photogenic one. All of this meant that we ended up with three desserts on plates for two people, and we didn’t mind that at all. I was feeling very full after dessert but happily so. I really love the unique flavor of saffron and with the lemon zest, the panna cotta was divine. The rhubarb topping which was thickened just enough all on its own, with its sweet and tart character and underlying vanilla, was a perfect match.
The one problem with baking bread is that I then eat the bread. It smells so good, and it’s so fresh, and each type I’ve tried so far is so different from the last that I can’t resist the baking or the eating. You know the rule about reading a recipe all the way through before beginning? That is never more important than with a bread recipe, and luckily I actually followed that rule this time. Some breads are prepared in one day, and others can take multiple days. Most of the time is spent waiting, but it’s good to know what those wait times are so you can plan accordingly. This parmesan cheese bread is, again, from the Bread from the La Brea Bakery book. It’s described as a two-day bread. However, on day two, the dough is left in the refrigerator to proof for eight to twelve hours. When I read that, this recipe became a three-day bread for me.
Day one was actually not much of a day at all since the only thing to be done was to make a sponge from water, white starter, and flour. That fermented for twelve hours. On day two, the dough was formed from the sponge, more water, fresh yeast, and flour. This was mixed, allowed to rest, and then salt was added. Silverton suggested adding chopped, fresh marjoram to the dough, and I have some in my herb garden, but I chose to use my fresh oregano instead. I just prefer the flavor of oregano. So, chopped oregano, freshly grated parmigiano reggiano, and olive oil were then mixed into the dough. It was turned out onto a board and kneaded briefly. It felt like all the cheese was falling out of the dough as I turned and kneaded it, but it worked out fine. The dough then fermented for a few hours in an oiled bowl, and as it expanded, it pulled all the cheese in and became more cohesive.
Next, the dough was slapped onto the work surface to deflate, left to rest a bit, rounded into a boule, and placed in a regular bowl since I’m still lacking the recommended proofing baskets. This was covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated until the next day. On what was for me day three, or baking day, the dough was removed from the refrigerator and allowed to come up to room temperature. It was turned out onto parchment paper and flattened into a disk. It was dimpled with my fingertips and brushed with olive oil. More parmigiano reggiano was spread on top, and it was, at last, placed with the parchment into a water-spritzed 500 degree oven that was immediately turned down to 450. The oven got another couple of water spritzes, and after 15 minutes, the parchment paper under the loaf was removed. The total baking time was 35 minutes, but because it was baking directly on a stone on the base of my oven, it browned quickly on the bottom. I moved the loaf up to a higher rack for the last 10 minutes.
The crispy baked-on parmigiano on the top was a real attention getter, but the chewy inside of the loaf was not to be ignored. The cheese melted into the dough, and the texture was soft and lovely. This loaf was less airy than the rustic bread but not dense. Sadly, the oregano that smelled so fantastic as the loaf baked, seemed to all but disappear. When I sliced it, there were only a few tiny flecks. Next time, I’ll add more. I’m also wondering about adding chunks of parmigiano in addition to the grated cheese. The parmesan bread in the bakery at Central Market has chunks in it which are so flavorful when you bite into them. That’s for next time. For now, I think the rest of this loaf will find its way into a meal with some soup.
I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.
My normal procedure for gathering information from food magazines goes like this: 1. read magazine, 2. place magazine in stack with others that have been read, 3. eventually, flip though all those read magazines and cut out recipes and photos I want to keep, 4. file those pages and use some sooner than others. However, once in awhile, something catches my eye, and I have to try it immediately. That was the case with this grilled halibut dish from April’s Food and Wine. I didn’t even get to step two. I saw this and made a shopping list. It’s from an article about food and wine pairings suggested by a few different sommeliers. This dish is from Caroline Styne of Lucques and AOC, and a pinot noir was recommended for it.
Tomatoes cooked in butter and spooned over grilled fish was all I really needed to know to want this for dinner. But, as I read through the recipe, I began to wonder how much I would love it with tarragon rubbed onto the fish and also used in the sauce. It’s not that I dislike tarragon, but I wasn’t sure I would love a double-dose of it. I’ve mentioned before that I have Mexican mint marigold growing in my yard, and that is our Texas substitution for fresh tarragon. The plants die back to the ground at the end of winter and then begin new growth in early spring. They’re about halfway back to their normal height now. So, I used chopped Mex. mint marigold instead of tarragon, and it has the same anise flavor. The halibut fillets were rubbed with a combination of chopped parsley, the M.m.m., and lemon zest, and they were left in the refrigerator for a couple of hours. Then, they were grilled outside over charcoal while the sauce was made. Butter was melted in a small skillet, whole M.m.m. leaves were added and cooked until fragrant, and then grape tomatoes joined this mixture. It was left to cook over low heat until the tomatoes burst to release delicious juices into the browned butter.
I can say with certainty that the flavors of this dish were as good as I’d imagined when I first saw it in the magazine. The two uses of tarragon or M.m.m. worked fine. The anise was subtle and married nicely with the freshness of the tomatoes and richness of the browned butter. The herb rub on the halibut became a very good accent to the flavor of the fish itself and the smoke from the grill. I made the smashed fingerlings mentioned in the article as well, and they were great on the side. Also great was the light, California pinot noir with nice, balanced fruit whose name I can’t remember because we ended up with a different wine than the one from the article and I failed to write it down. The simple, flavorful sauce could be used on ravioli or gnocchi, and the tarragon could be replaced with thyme for variation. Or, I could happily sit down to a plate of burst-open tiny tomatoes in herbed browned butter and a hunk of bread.
UPDATE 3/26/2012: Every year, as soon as the strawberries appear at the farmers' market, I want to bake these scones again. I just baked some and took new photos to update the post. There's also a new added note in the recipe regarding the self-raising flour.
Every time I see a scone recipe, I want to try it. Kurt certainly wouldn’t mind if I did try every scone recipe, and since I don’t even need much encouragement to bake, I baked scones again. Hopefully, this won’t become a dedicated scone site, but chances are good there will be additional scone variations presented here. These particular scones are another item from Exceptional Cakes, and there’s so much more on my to-bake list from that book. Date shortbread bars or the chocolate caramel tart could be next. But, about these scones, I thought I should compare these to the last scones I baked.
These scones were made with self-rising flour which I had never used before. I didn’t even find it at my grocery store, so I made it as described here. An additional two teaspoons of baking powder was added to the homemade self-rising flour. Those ingredients were sifted with salt and sugar, and butter was worked in with my fingertips. Some milk was measured and then eggs were beaten into it and that was poured into the flour butter mixture. I stirred this together and folded in chopped, fresh strawberries. The strawberries were my choice of an addition, but the recipe suggested sultanas. I usually cut butter into flour using a pastry cutter, but this time I worked it in with my fingertips. I think the fingertip method is actually faster, and I definitely had a better sense of when it was well-combined. I may never go back to the pastry cutter. Now, interestingly, the minneola tangelo-buttermilk scones I made in February, used all purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. Butter was mixed in with a pastry cutter, buttermilk was added, and then the segmented tangelos and zest were incorporated. There were no eggs in the dough, and there was more buttermilk than the milk in these scones.
The tangelo scones were fantastic, and they rose nicely. However, in my opinion, the texture of these strawberry scones was the better of the two. It was more delicate and less crumbly. Warm from the oven, they were incredible, and re-warmed the next day, they were still incredible. Let me know if you have a favorite scone recipe, or if your scones have eggs or not, and I’ll keep trying every recipe I see.
UPDATE: Since the book is not available, and I had a request for the recipe, I'm including it below.
450 g self-raising flour (or, just under 450 g all-purpose flour, plus 1 tablespoon and 1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, plus 1 1/2 teaspoons salt) (if you're converting to cups, that's 3 cups all-purpose flour plus the baking powder and salt) (and, yes, add the salt and baking powder listed below as well.)
pinch of salt
25 g granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
85 g unsalted butter, softened
2 eggs
200 ml cold milk
chopped fresh strawberries or fresh or dried fruit of your choice (I used about a pint of fresh strawberries.)
1 egg for glaze
sugar for sprinkling (I used turbinado sugar.)
-preheat oven to 170 degrees C or 350 degrees F; line a large baking tray with parchment or silpat; sift the flour, salt, sugar, and baking powder into a bowl; add the butter and rub in with your fingertips; in a small bowl, lightly beat the eggs, add the milk, then pour into the flour; stir together quickly and lightly, adding fruit if using; don't overwork the dough, the quicker and lighter you are, the better the scones will be
-tip the dough onto a lightly floured surface and pat into a one inche thickness; cut into rounds and place on prepared baking tray; lightly beat egg for glaze and brush onto tops of scones, then sprinkle with sugar
-bake in the center of the oven for 20-25 minutes or until risen and lightly browned Tweet
This was a fantastic, hearty meal that’s a little difficult to describe. It was earthy with layers of flavor, yet it was spring-like and not heavy. The sauce was not thick or rich, but the simmering had transformed all the parts into something quite interesting that paired very nicely with artichokes and chicken. The few mushrooms were just enough to provide a woodsy note, and the vinegar’s acidity played its part. I’m lacking a good way to sum up how great this actually tasted, so you’ll just have to try it. And, I’ll have to make it a few more times until I can figure out how to explain it better.
by Alice Medrich. 
I left the pan of caramel to cool overnight, and cut it into pieces the next day. These were much stickier than the sea salt caramels I made before. I’m not sure if that was due to the honey or our off-the-charts humidity. Or, maybe I let the sea salt caramels get to a slightly higher temperature, and they set up to a firmer state. Storing them in the refrigerator also makes them firmer, and some chilling time made them easier to cut. Were they delicious? Let me just say that cutting and wrapping them individually in cellophane was slow going. I ate every other one I cut and then had to pause and rinse my hands so as not to leave sticky fingerprints on the cellophane. I finally wrapped enough of them to fill a box for Mom. The rest are mine, and I’m not sharing.
The soup was served with crispy shallots on top and some 
To serve, the panna cotta was gracefully turned out of the ramekins, and the rhubarb marmellata was spooned on top. In reality, as I plopped the first serving out of its ramekin, it of course fell apart and broke into blobs on the plate. I had to try two more times before getting a photogenic one. All of this meant that we ended up with three desserts on plates for two people, and we didn’t mind that at all. I was feeling very full after dessert but happily so. I really love the unique flavor of saffron and with the lemon zest, the panna cotta was divine. The rhubarb topping which was thickened just enough all on its own, with its sweet and tart character and underlying vanilla, was a perfect match.
Next, the dough was slapped onto the work surface to deflate, left to rest a bit, rounded into a boule, and placed in a regular bowl since I’m still lacking the recommended proofing baskets. This was covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated until the next day. On what was for me day three, or baking day, the dough was removed from the refrigerator and allowed to come up to room temperature. It was turned out onto parchment paper and flattened into a disk. It was dimpled with my fingertips and brushed with olive oil. More parmigiano reggiano was spread on top, and it was, at last, placed with the parchment into a water-spritzed 500 degree oven that was immediately turned down to 450. The oven got another couple of water spritzes, and after 15 minutes, the parchment paper under the loaf was removed. The total baking time was 35 minutes, but because it was baking directly on a stone on the base of my oven, it browned quickly on the bottom. I moved the loaf up to a higher rack for the last 10 minutes.
I can say with certainty that the flavors of this dish were as good as I’d imagined when I first saw it in the magazine. The two uses of tarragon or M.m.m. worked fine. The anise was subtle and married nicely with the freshness of the tomatoes and richness of the browned butter. The herb rub on the halibut became a very good accent to the flavor of the fish itself and the smoke from the grill. I made the smashed fingerlings mentioned in the article as well, and they were great on the side. Also great was the light, California pinot noir with nice, balanced fruit whose name I can’t remember because we ended up with a different wine than the one from the article and I failed to write it down. The simple, flavorful sauce could be used on ravioli or gnocchi, and the tarragon could be replaced with thyme for variation. Or, I could happily sit down to a plate of burst-open tiny tomatoes in herbed browned butter and a hunk of bread.
