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.
UPDATE 26 January 2012: My cilantro plants are taking over my herb garden this year thanks to the winter rain. It was time to make this dish again and update the photos.
I’ve managed to amass a stack of chicken recipes, most of which are from Food and Wine’s last several issues, and I decided to start working through them last night. Up first was this green chicken masala which was one of their simplified versions of a chef’s dish. It comes from Chef Vikram Sunderam of Rasika in Washington, DC. Apparently, the only simplification was to add the spices all at once rather than a little at a time as the dish cooks. Chicken breasts or thighs would work, but I had boneless breasts in the freezer so they won.
The first ingredient in the list is two cups of cilantro leaves. I have to beam with pride for just a moment because my cantankerous, little herb garden had actually produced enough cilantro for this use. The winter herbs like parsley and cilantro do perform better for me than their summer counterparts, but they're not all that prolific in my garden. However, we’d just had some rain this week, so the resulting explosion of cilantro leaves was a surprising sight. There’s a strange sense of luxury about clipping rain-washed and sun-dried, fresh herbs because since I don’t use any sprays or chemicals, they didn’t require any rinsing once I got them inside. They were already clean and dry and easier to handle that way. Odd things like that do make me happy. Mint, on the other hand, I don’t seem able to grow despite the fact that it’s treated as an almost invasive species in most gardens.
Along with the big mound of cilantro leaves, store-bought mint, jalapeno, garlic, lemon, and water were pureed until smooth. Meanwhile, chopped onion was sauteed before turmeric and chicken were added. Cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves joined the mixture in the pan, and then the cilantro puree and coconut milk were added. The bright green color faded a bit as the sauce reduced and thickened, but the many delicious flavors got better and better. Next time, I may use a hotter chile, like serrano, instead of jalapeno, but that’s a very minor grievance. I have to explain that I’m not at all an experienced cook of Indian cuisine, so the melding of all of these spices and herbs into the finished sauce was kind of like a magic trick that I just happened to perform. It all came together wonderfully, and this one is going in the permanent file.
At Christmas time, I baked several kinds of cookies to share with family and friends. I had a list of all the cookies I wanted to try, but I only got to about half of them. These chocolate covered cherry cookies were on that other half of the list. When I ran out of time in December, I started thinking about a baking list for Valentine’s Day and put these cookies at the top of it. I saw these delicious looking treats and used the recipe found on A Good Appetite.
They are thumb-print cookies with half a maraschino cherry tucked into the indentation with chocolate spooned on top. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. I located some all-natural maraschino cherries, Silver Palate brand, at Whole Foods. They have no artificial colors and no preservatives, and they taste great. Simple cookie, great ingredients, what could go wrong? Turns out, I nearly completely failed at making these cookies. My melted chocolate and sweetened condensed milk mixture must have been too runny. When I took the cookies out of the oven, it had practically disappeared. Notice the bottom right photo below. That is what failure looks like.
Not willing to give up so easily, I decided to let the cookies cool while I considered my options. I thought I could sneekily re-top them with melted milk chocolate and no one would ever know. My plan was to send these to my nieces for Valentine’s Day, so I went with milk chocolate for the final topping instead of semisweet. That chocolate topping worked ok, and the cookies were brought back from the brink. I can’t wait to find out if my nieces enjoyed the cookies or if they could taste the bitterness of near failure.
Back in December when I was reading Saveur, Kurt happened to glance over my shoulder while I was on the page about Bordelaise sauce. He felt certain that this was something I should definitely try, and he was all too willing to humbly offer his services as taste tester. Classic French sauces are interesting to me, even when they’re made with veal demi-glace and served on red meat. I’m intrigued by the thought of making them and learning from the process. And, so it was that Kurt had his lucky day. He got to select a nice, big filet mignon and grill it as desired while I tinkered in the kitchen with Bordelaise sauce.
I’ve read all about how amazing veal stock is on Ruhlman’s blog and in his The Elements of Cooking, and I suspect I’ll make some one of these days. This was not, however, that day. The Saveur article also includes step by step instructions for making veal stock and reducing it into demi-glace. I brazenly blew off all of that. I went straight to Whole Foods and searched for a pre-made veal demi-glace. They were out. The guy at the meat counter suggested I ask in prepared foods. The guy in prepared foods said no, they never have it there, and don’t I know how to make it. Yes, I’ve read about how to make it, but I’d somehow misplaced the eight or so hours I would need to do so. Onward I went to Central Market where I found a very good, albeit packaged, veal demi-glace.
Wine with shallots, bay leaf from my tree, and some thyme simmered and reduced. The slacker demi-glace was added. The filet was grilled, and juices were collected on a plate where it rested. A scant tablespoon of butter, I thought there'd be more, was whisked in, and the steak juices and some parsley were added to the sauce. The steak was sprinkled with rosemary and thyme, was set into a puddle of sauce, and received a dab of sauce on top. Did I, the red meat abstainer, taste this celebration of veal and beef? Of course I did. I had to know. I think I’ve used the phrase depth of flavor before but I shouldn’t have because this was what depth of flavor truly is. It was a velvety, luscious, beautiful thing. I haven’t converted into a beef eater or anything, but I do have a renewed appreciation for French classics.
Last fall, I read Nancy Silverton's Breads from the La Brea Bakery and learned about the steps involved in making a sourdough starter and using it for bread baking. I read about it, but I didn’t actually do it. So, one of my goals for the new year was to make a sourdough starter and begin learning more about bread baking by actually baking it. I have now at least begun this adventure. Two weeks ago, I set about growing the culture and allowing it to ferment. There are different methods for creating sourdough starters, but I faithfully followed the exact steps in the La Brea book. This was completely new territory for me, and I had no idea if things were going ok or if I had a failure on my hands. I just continued to follow the instructions and kept my fingers crossed.
The culture was created from a mixture of water and bread flour with a pound of red grapes tied up in cheesecloth squished into it, and it was left to sit for a few days. On day four, the culture was refreshed with more flour and water, and it continued to ferment for five more days. During this time, the aroma ranged from nice and yeasty to a little sour and then back to mellow again. Just as it should. On day 10 when the grapes were removed, the mixture had separated and there was a yellow liquid on top. It appeared just right based on the description in the book. At this point, regular feedings began so as to build the culture into a starter. Again, there are different methods for this, but Silverton’s instructions involved three feedings per day with precise measurements for water and bread flour. I got a kitchen scale for Christmas for this very purpose. On day 15, the starter was ready for baking. I think I’ve never felt so clueless in the kitchen. I had no idea if it would work, or if I’d been feeding a big lump of glue for two weeks.
Continuing with my obsequious adherence to the instructions, I, of course, baked the first bread listed which is a basic loaf of country white. This bread requires two days of prepping and waiting. I was a little concerned because there is specific information in the book about room temperature, water temperature, dough temperature and how all need to be within a narrow range for success. We were having chilly nights, and my kitchen wasn’t as warm as it usually is, so I was nervous. I attempted to make the suggested adjustments by increasing the temperature of the water used, and waiting the maximum amount of time for each step of dough resting and rising. But still, I was anxious. A big, but precise, pile of bread flour was mixed by hand with the virgin starter, water at 81 degrees, and an exact amount of wheat germ. I then kneaded it by hand. Things looked ok to me. The autolyse, or period of rest for the dough, came and went. Salt was added and kneaded into the dough. And, it was time for the first rise. Four hours. It rose, but I sensed it wasn’t enough.
After the first rise, the dough was split into two, shaped, and the two boules should have been placed in cloth-lined proofing baskets of which I have none. I have no idea if that matters. I used two medium mixing bowls instead. They were left to proof at room temperature for an hour and then placed in the refrigerator to rest overnight. I still wasn’t seeing as much volume change in the dough as I thought I should, but I soldiered on.
Day two involved removing the bowls from the refrigerator, allowing the dough to come to room temperature, waiting through a final proof of three hours, and then finally, thank you, the dough blobs went into the blessed, 500 degree, water-spritzed oven. I was feeling very much like the Little Red Hen at this point. Did anyone else read that book as a child? It was great to get to read it to my niece a couple of years ago. Still love that story. So, my dough seemed flabby and short, but I baked it anyway. And, believe it or not, it ended up very much like bread. I don’t count this as a solid success because the loaves were a little denser than they should have been. It could have been due to a weak, new starter or a too cool room for proofing, but what I got in the end was indeed bread. It was crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. There were some holes like there were supposed to be throughout the loaf’s interior. It was bread, and it was mine. And, it was delicious toast for breakfast the next morning too.
My next adventure with the starter will be baking bagels. I’ve heard good things about the bagels in this book, so I’m looking forward to the attempt. I have to thank Chuck at The Knead for Bread for graciously taking the time to answer several questions and offer some great information. He also gave me excellent tips for maintaining my starter. I hope it’s still alive. It’s sitting in my refrigerator right now taunting me with the fact that only it knows its status. I’ll find out for sure in a week or so when the adventure continues.
Sometimes it’s fun to start with an ingredient and then figure out what to do with it (rather than starting with a recipe and gathering the ingredients). Last week I was looking through the dried bean and rice options at the grocery store to see what was available. I found some pretty, two-toned snowcap beans and was compelled to bring them home. I had no particular plan for their use and set about choosing a way to serve them. A little searching brought me to the Rancho Gordo article in the November issue of Food and Wine which included a recipe for giant lima beans with stewed tomatoes and oregano pesto. I hoped that it would work well enough with snowcaps instead of giant limas and gave it a whirl.
I must have been caught up in the actual preparation of this dish because I completely forgot to grab the camera and get a shot of the beans in dried form or after the initial cooking. Good job. You can see what they look like here. They’re nice looking, light brown beans with a snowy white side. They retained their colors after the initial cooking, but once they baked in the stewed tomatoes, the colors were muddied. I wasn’t able to find any other information about them like where they originated, so they’re a slightly mysterious type of bean. They’re bigger than pintos but not as big as giant limas. Their taste is mild like cannellinis, but they seemed firmer in texture. They were delicious in this dish, but next time I’ll use them in a way that preserves their colors.
So, how was this made? Well, there’s a good amount of cooking time required, and splitting the tasks between two days is a good idea. On day one, I cooked the soaked beans and simmered the stewed tomatoes. Onion and garlic were cooked in a saucepan until softened, and then canned whole tomatoes and chopped, fresh oregano were added. This was left to simmer for an hour. Also on day one, I made the pesto which included olive oil, oregano, parsley, and garlic. On day two, the beans and stewed tomatoes were combined and baked for 45 minutes. This is the point at which I strayed from the instructions. Feta cheese was supposed to have been added on top of the beans while they baked. I was feeling like I wanted little, cold cheese sprinkles rather than warm, melty blobs, so I waited until the beans were plated to add cheese. Course breadcrumbs were toasted in olive oil and used as a topping with the pesto.
I enjoyed this as a vegetarian main course with grilled bread with sauteed shitakes on the side. Kurt chose to make it a side dish with a steak. The breadcrumbs added nice crunch, the pesto brightened it all up with its herby, garliciness, the feta sprinkles were creamy and rich, and the long-cooked beans were tender and full-flavored. It takes some planning and patience, but once all the components come together, you’ll have a delicious dish that can be a main course or a side that is definitely worth it.
I should never have made these cookies. It was a very bad idea, and now I’m stuck with having eaten them. Ordinarily, I bake cookies and happily share them because they’re just cookies. Not so with these babies. Carrot cake cookies sandwiched together with cream cheese frosting do not get shared so much as they get devoured very, very quickly. These are from Martha Stewart's Cookies, and as I’ve said before, every cookie in that book looks similarly devourable.
These have all the things a carrot cake might have like grated fresh carrots, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and raisins. For no particular reason, I reduced the amount of raisins and added some chopped pecans. I guess if there were a reason, it would be that my favorite carrot cake recipe has nuts in it so I wanted some in these cookies too. Since they get sandwiched, it’s convenient if they’re all the same size. I used a small ice cream scoop to place the dough on the baking sheets in even-sized mounds. The recipe suggests chilling the dough before scooping, but chilled dough is more difficult to spoon out of the bowl. So, I placed the dough mounds on sheets, and then chilled the baking sheets before putting them in the oven.
The cream cheese frosting is basic, straightforward, and as delicious as it always is. Once these were filled with frosting and finished, I realized this would be the first cookie I would prefer to eat from the refrigerator. This is interesting because Kurt is a cold cookie kind of guy. Even chocolate chip. He prefers them straight from the refrigerator, and I don’t understand it. For me, chocolate chip cookies are only worth eating directly from the oven. The refrigerator doesn’t even enter the picture. But here, cream cheese frosting necessitates refrigeration. I can tell you that these are by far my favorite cold cookie, and I have many, many extra calories to burn this week.
This soy bean and cheese dip came from the November issue of Food and Wine and was part of an article about starters for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s actually a great recipe to have on file for year-round use because the ingredients are always easy to locate. I used frozen, shelled edamame which were briefly cooked in boiling water. The cooked, drained edamame were pureed in a food processor with sour cream, goat cheese, lemon juice, garlic, and canned chipotles and adobo sauce. Chopped oregano, which luckily enough grows in my herb garden all year but is skippable if you don't have it, was stirred in once the mixture was smooth.
A crunchy topping was made with pepitas which were roasted with salt, ground coriander, crushed red pepper, and olive oil. When the pepitas came out of the oven, they were tossed with lemon zest and oregano. The lemon zest added a burst of flavor, and I have to remember to try that with roasted nuts in the future. While the pepitas roasted, I baked some pita chips which I cut to size, brushed with olive oil, and sprinkled with a mix of cayenne, ground coriander, ground cumin, salt, and pepper.
It makes a thick dip, but sturdy vegetables would have been great for dipping too. The combination of flavors is interesting with the smooth, mild bean puree and creamy, tangy goat cheese and sour cream and the hit of heat and smokiness from the chipotles. And, the pepita topping adds another layer of flavor and texture. The recipe results in a generous amount of dip, so we still have some leftover. I’m thinking of using it for a sandwich for lunch tomorrow by spreading it in a pita and adding arugula, and now, I’m already looking forward to lunch.
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Not willing to give up so easily, I decided to let the cookies cool while I considered my options. I thought I could sneekily re-top them with melted milk chocolate and no one would ever know. My plan was to send these to my nieces for Valentine’s Day, so I went with milk chocolate for the final topping instead of semisweet. That chocolate topping worked ok, and the cookies were brought back from the brink. I can’t wait to find out if my nieces enjoyed the cookies or if they could taste the bitterness of near failure.
, and I suspect I’ll make some one of these days. This was not, however, that day. The Saveur article also includes step by step instructions for making veal stock and reducing it into demi-glace. I brazenly blew off all of that. I went straight to Whole Foods and searched for a pre-made veal demi-glace. They were out. The guy at the meat counter suggested I ask in prepared foods. The guy in prepared foods said no, they never have it there, and don’t I know how to make it. Yes, I’ve read about how to make it, but I’d somehow misplaced the eight or so hours I would need to do so. Onward I went to Central Market where I found a very good, albeit packaged, veal demi-glace.
Wine with shallots, bay leaf from my tree, and some thyme simmered and reduced. The slacker demi-glace was added. The filet was grilled, and juices were collected on a plate where it rested. A scant tablespoon of butter, I thought there'd be more, was whisked in, and the steak juices and some parsley were added to the sauce. The steak was sprinkled with rosemary and thyme, was set into a puddle of sauce, and received a dab of sauce on top. Did I, the red meat abstainer, taste this celebration of veal and beef? Of course I did. I had to know. I think I’ve used the phrase depth of flavor before but I shouldn’t have because this was what depth of flavor truly is. It was a velvety, luscious, beautiful thing. I haven’t converted into a beef eater or anything, but I do have a renewed appreciation for French classics.
Continuing with my obsequious adherence to the instructions, I, of course, baked the first bread listed which is a basic loaf of country white. This bread requires two days of prepping and waiting. I was a little concerned because there is specific information in the book about room temperature, water temperature, dough temperature and how all need to be within a narrow range for success. We were having chilly nights, and my kitchen wasn’t as warm as it usually is, so I was nervous. I attempted to make the suggested adjustments by increasing the temperature of the water used, and waiting the maximum amount of time for each step of dough resting and rising. But still, I was anxious. A big, but precise, pile of bread flour was mixed by hand with the virgin starter, water at 81 degrees, and an exact amount of wheat germ. I then kneaded it by hand. Things looked ok to me. The autolyse, or period of rest for the dough, came and went. Salt was added and kneaded into the dough. And, it was time for the first rise. Four hours. It rose, but I sensed it wasn’t enough.
Day two involved removing the bowls from the refrigerator, allowing the dough to come to room temperature, waiting through a final proof of three hours, and then finally, thank you, the dough blobs went into the blessed, 500 degree, water-spritzed oven. I was feeling very much like the Little Red Hen at this point. Did anyone else read that book as a child? It was great to get to read it to my niece a couple of years ago. Still love that story. So, my dough seemed flabby and short, but I baked it anyway. And, believe it or not, it ended up very much like bread. I don’t count this as a solid success because the loaves were a little denser than they should have been. It could have been due to a weak, new starter or a too cool room for proofing, but what I got in the end was indeed bread. It was crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. There were some holes like there were supposed to be throughout the loaf’s interior. It was bread, and it was mine. And, it was delicious toast for breakfast the next morning too.
I enjoyed this as a vegetarian main course with grilled bread with sauteed shitakes on the side. Kurt chose to make it a side dish with a steak. The breadcrumbs added nice crunch, the pesto brightened it all up with its herby, garliciness, the feta sprinkles were creamy and rich, and the long-cooked beans were tender and full-flavored. It takes some planning and patience, but once all the components come together, you’ll have a delicious dish that can be a main course or a side that is definitely worth it.
The cream cheese frosting is basic, straightforward, and as delicious as it always is. Once these were filled with frosting and finished, I realized this would be the first cookie I would prefer to eat from the refrigerator. This is interesting because Kurt is a cold cookie kind of guy. Even chocolate chip. He prefers them straight from the refrigerator, and I don’t understand it. For me, chocolate chip cookies are only worth eating directly from the oven. The refrigerator doesn’t even enter the picture. But here, cream cheese frosting necessitates refrigeration. I can tell you that these are by far my favorite cold cookie, and I have many, many extra calories to burn this week.
It makes a thick dip, but sturdy vegetables would have been great for dipping too. The combination of flavors is interesting with the smooth, mild bean puree and creamy, tangy goat cheese and sour cream and the hit of heat and smokiness from the chipotles. And, the pepita topping adds another layer of flavor and texture. The recipe results in a generous amount of dip, so we still have some leftover. I’m thinking of using it for a sandwich for lunch tomorrow by spreading it in a pita and adding arugula, and now, I’m already looking forward to lunch.