Whether the holidays drive you to drink or the drinks are just part of the fun of celebrating, this is a good cocktail recipe to have on hand. I received a sample of PAMA Pomegranate Liqueur and was interested in several ideas from the accompanying recipe booklet. A PAMA margarita or martini would have been nice, but the thought of pomegranate flavor with bourbon in a Manhattan was something I had to try. First I tasted a sip of the PAMA liqueur on its own, and it was very much like pomegranate juice. This is not a sweet or syrupy liqueur. The flavor is very well-balanced, and it adds nice color to a finished cocktail.
A classic Manhattan includes bourbon, sweet vermouth, and bitters and is garnished with lemon peel and a maraschino cherry. The recipe in the PAMA booklet, replaced the vermouth with PAMA, omitted the bitters, and added a splash of soda water. I decided to create a sort of hybrid mix of that recipe and the classic. A cocktail pitcher was filled with ice, bourbon, PAMA, and bitters were added, the mixture was stirred until chilled, it was poured over ice in two small glasses, and it was topped with sparkling water and garnished.
I’ve always been a bourbon fan, and I was very happy with the way its flavor mingled with that of pomegranate. I used angostura bitters, and just a couple of dashes added a distinctive note. I can imagine a lot of delicious uses of PAMA liqueur, and I’ll definitely try the margarita eventually, but for a sophisticated twist on a classic cocktail this pomegranate Manhattan would be hard to beat.
Pomegranate Manhattan
2 ounces bourbon
1 1/2 ounces PAMA Pomegranate Liqueur
2 dashes angostura bitters
Sparkling water
Lemon peel and maraschino cherries such as Silver Palate brand
-Fill a cocktail pitcher with ice. Pour bourbon, PAMA, and bitters over ice, and add dashes of bitters. Stir until chilled. Strain cocktail into two small glasses with ice and top with sparkling water. Garnish each with lemon peel and a cherry.


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I like the look of separate piles of each vegetable, so the colors were grouped on the platter. Some butternut squash chunks would have been good here too, and the mix could be as diverse or as simple as you choose. You could even roast the vegetables in advance and then just warm them in the oven before serving. The glaze goes so well with the caramelized roasted vegetables, and it’s so easy to make and worry-free, it’s one of my favorites. 

A basic polenta was made with broth, and when thick, grated parmesan and butter were added. I chopped eggplant, summer squash, and bell peppers and sauteed them until tender and added some baby mustard greens. Next time, I’ll chop the vegetables into a little smaller dice so they squish into the terrine more snuggly. But, moving right along, a parchment-lined loaf pan was layered with polenta, then some shredded mozzarella, the sauteed vegetables, and more mozzarella, and then it was topped with the remaining polenta. The pan was covered and refrigerated overnight. The next day, the polenta came out of the pan easily and was cut into thick slices. The slices were placed on a baking sheet and drizzled with olive oil. They went into the oven for a few minutes to warm through. In hindsight, I should have pulled them from the oven a little sooner than I did because the mozzarella melted a bit too much and ran out from the sides of the cut pieces. The slices were prettier when the cheese is in place.
Even though I would change a couple of details next time around, I was still very happy with this dish. The parmesan-flavored polenta sandwiching the vegetables and mozzarella was everything simple comfort food should be, even though it was smartly dressed in layers of a terrine. I had never before thought of using polenta in a terrine, but it works so well and the possibilities of what to layer with it are endless.

Cream cheese, butter, sugar, and almond extract were mixed until fluffy, and then eggs were added. Flour, baking powder, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt were sifted together and then added to the butter mixture in alternating turns with some milk. Regarding that cinnamon, I had just read an article in Saveur about different types of cinnamon so I looked around at the grocery store to see what my options were. I bought some Vietnamese high oil ground cinnamon, and it was like a wonderful, super-cinnamon compared to what I usually use. I highly recommend it for this kind of cake or any baked item in which cinnamon is the focus. So, the mixed batter went into a thirteen-inch by nine-inch baking pan that I had lined with parchment paper since I wanted to remove the finished cake from the pan. Two granny smith apples were peeled, yes I actually peeled the apples, and they were sliced and then tossed with sugar, flour, and more of that super-cinnamon. The apple slices were layered on top of the cake batter, and then the cake baked for about 50 minutes.
The serving suggestion in the book was to add a dollop of whipped cream to each piece of cake, and that would have been perfectly delicious. However, since a bowl of whipped cream that would have to be refrigerated would have over-complicated the matter, I instead glazed the cake with melted apricot jam. I cut the cake into pieces and sneakily kept a couple of them at home. My guess about the cake getting better the next day was correct. The butter and cream cheese gave it a very tender crumb, and the tart apples and warm cinnamon flavor combined to make this simple cake a delight.

The bread sticks baked at 450 F with some water spritzing of the oven during the first five minutes and were golden and crisp after a total of 25 minutes. Kurt was happy to take these for his potluck lunch, and he was even happier that I set a few aside to keep at home. All of the other breads from this book have been great too, but there’s something about this dough that makes it special. I have a feeling I’ll eventually memorize this recipe.

For the filling, minced onion and sliced shitakes were sauteed in butter with thyme and dill. Then, the sliced cabbage was added with a little water, and the saute pan was covered while the cabbage cooked for about 15 minutes. The cover was removed, and the heat was raised to evaporate remaining moisture from the pan. Last, parsley, a chopped hard-boiled egg, and some sour cream were stirred into the vegetables. At this point, I transferred this mixture to a bowl and left it in the refrigerator for a few hours. I had also rolled out the dough into an oblong, rectangular-ish shape, placed it on a baking sheet, covered it with a kitchen towel, and placed that in the refrigerator as well. At dinner time, I assembled the tart while the oven warmed. The filling was placed on the tart dough leaving a border of a few inches. The border was folded up and over the filling and was brushed with melted butter. For a savory tart, I like to spinkle the top edges with sea salt. The tart baked for about 30 minutes while I made the horseradish sauce.
The recipe in the book suggests peeling and chopping fresh horseradish root and then partially pureeing it in a food processor with water. Then, it was to be drained and combined with the other ingredients in the sauce. I took a lazier approach and simply peeled the horseradish and grated it on a microplane into a bowl of sour cream. Then, I added chopped chives, salt and pepper, and white wine vinegar. You could also just use prepared horseradish and skip the added vinegar in the sauce, but I do like the bite of just-grated, fresh horseradish. The sauce was perfect with the cabbage and mushroom filling, and this hearty galette was perfect for fall.

We both liked this casserole a lot. It’s an inspired way to eat vegetables, that’s for certain. The crunchy sliced almonds are a nice addition that I didn’t include in my green bean casseroles in the past. However, the one thing that Kurt and I both noticed was that the breadcrumbs mixed into the casserole left it grainy when we would have preferred it smoother. The breadcrumbs on top were fine, but next time I would skip adding them to the mixture with the green beans. Other than that, this was an amazing, rich but fresh-tasting casserole that far surpassed anything with a can of soup in it.

I like that the apple slices have a little more texture when the peel is left intact. And, I really like the tartness of the cranberries studded throughout the dessert. Of course, the crumble topping is what makes it what it is, and the mix of oats and chopped pecans with the cinnamon-spiced fruit is always a natural fit. Next time I might use a colorful combination of red apples and granny smiths, and I might increase the amount of cranberries even more. It’s so easy and foolproof, it makes a perfect, quick dessert for a fall meal.

The first dish was
The pumpkin soup was not a sweet kind of soup at all, and too much sweetness is my usual complaint about pumpkin or squash soups. The onion, garlic, and those two mushrooms gave it good, savory flavor. The black-eyed pea salad was varied in taste and texture, and the peppery baby mustard greens matched nicely with the peas and vinaigrette. And, those cheese flautas with cilantro pesto? Those crispy, cheesy, rolled tortillas were, of course, a hit. Pulling the whole meal together was simple because the soup and salad could both be left aside without worry as the flautas were prepared. It was a well-planned meal, and every part of it was suited to the season.

You really can’t go wrong with the combination of coconut milk, lime, and chiles. The tofu and eggplant acquired that mix of flavors and the mushrooms and peanuts added dimension. The curry just got better as the leftovers sat in the refrigerator overnight, and it was even more delicious for lunch the next day.

This pasta dish is all about the fresh flavors of the green beans and the herbs in the pesto while the cayenne perks things up without being assertive, and the pecorino adds richness. I loved that the beans curled into the pasta on the plate and their texture was just barely firmer than the linguine. It’s a simple pasta dish and a delicious way to use fresh green beans.

The stuffed piquillo recipe in the book is found under the title veal-stuffed piquillo peppers. In the intro to that recipe, von Bremzen explains that the classic version usually involves a stuffing of seafood with bechamel sauce, and she suggests alternate ideas instead of veal. I went the seafood route and made a shrimp stuffing. I chopped some shrimp, sauteed them in olive oil with a little chopped garlic, and then added a bechamel. Once cool, that mixture was stuffed into the piquillos, and the peppers were chilled in the refrigerator to set. Meanwhile, a sauce was made by sauteing finely chopped onion and garlic in olive oil, and to that, chopped piquillos and grated tomato were added. I’d never grated a tomato before, but you simply cut it in half, grate it on a box grater, and discard the skin. After the sauce with the tomato added had reduced, sweet and hot paprika and white wine were added. Last, a little cream enriched the sauce. Some of this sauce went into the bottom of a baking dish, the stuffed peppers were placed on top, and the remaining sauce was poured over the peppers. I should explain, an optional step in this recipe is to bread and fry the stuffed piquillos just before placing them in the baking dish with the sauce. I skipped that option and baked the naked, stuffed peppers in the sauce until warm. These little guys were delightful with chunks of shrimp in the smooth bechamel and the paprika and cream in the sauce. This was a plate and fork kind of tapa, and it was hands-down our favorite if we had to pick only one.
The olive spread was next. I already have a favorite black olive tapenade, but I wanted to try this one just to see how it compared. I was intrigued by the use of anchovy and a hard-cooked egg yolk here. The entire mixture included black olives, anchovies, capers, garlic, one cooked egg yolk, rum, yes rum, mustard, and olive oil. This was a rich and flavorful olive spread and the anchovies and rum gave it spunk. I like a good bit of parsley in an olive spread, so I sprinkled some on top. I already declared the stuffed piquillos our favorite item of the night, but there were no disappointments here. I’ll be making all of these again, and from now on whether I’m making this olive spread or my old stand-by, it will have some rum in it.

I wasn’t able to locate a tangerine for the olives, so I used an orange instead. Cracked green olives were marinated with orange zest and juice, lots of crushed garlic, lemon slices, sherry vinegar, olive oil, bay leaves, a crumbled dried chile, and a pinch of ground cumin. To prepare the carrots, they were peeled but left whole and cooked in boiling water in a large pot just until crisp-tender. The marinade was made by combining garlic, cumin seeds, dried oregano, red pepper flakes, fresh parsley, salt, and olive oil in a food processor and pulsing to a fine paste. Lemon juice was then added to the mixture. The carrots were cut into quarter inch or half inch pieces, tossed with the marinade, and left in the refrigerator overnight. The almonds were very simple to prepare. Marcona almonds were suggested, and that’s what I used, but blanched almonds would have been fine too. The almonds were fried in olive oil until golden and then were transferred to a paper towel lined tray to drain before being placed in a paper bag. Salt and smoked Spanish paprika were placed in the bag with the almonds, and the bag was shaken to distribute the seasonings.
The great thing about a tapas party is that a lot of the preparation can be done a day or more in advance. However, the almonds are at their best served warm, but they could be re-heated in the oven right before serving. These were three very simple items, but the flavors were addictive. I know I have a good snack in front of me when I'm incapable of controlling my hand repeatedly reaching for the serving dish. The citrus and garlic combination in the olives was a winner, and the marinated carrots will make you wonder why bars ever offered pretzels as snacks. And, warm, smoky, paprika-scented Marcona almonds don’t even require a flavor description. Pour me another glass of Garnacha, and let me continue to pretend I’m in Spain.