Crunchy Granola

OK, so now that I’ve made this “big” decision and am about to leap heels first from the proverbial cliff into a new world, I have a confession to make. This may come as a shock to those of you out there who know me to be this cosmopolitan miss with a closet full of pricey heels and a trendy zip code in Gotham City, but here it is: deep down, way deep down, I’m a closeted hippie. There, I said it, though I’m not sure hippies would come out of a closet. Maybe a yurt. Anyway, while I’ve waltzed around in Prada reading New York Magazine, drinking dirty martinis and oozing cosmopolitan-ness, in the dark corners of my being there’s a string of love beads around my neck and Grateful Dead playing in the background. Oh sure, I’ve hid it well. My home is decidedly un-hippie in art and substance. You won’t find tie-dye, a futon or Peter Max anywhere. There’s no brown rice in my pantry, my fridge filled with things that would horrify vegans and vegetarians alike (three different types of bacon, cream, butter). There’s nary a bean sprout or brick of tofu in sight, yet a hint of hippie is still there.

I have laughed about the hippie in others around me. I’ve mocked “crunchy granola-ness” when encountered, because seriously, full-on crunchy granola is really mock-worthy. And let’s face it, while Birkenstocks might be comfortable, anything that makes even a petite foot look like a catamaran is not exactly fetching, and certainly nothing you’d find in my closet. So when I made the decision to leave metropolis for a decidedly crunchier landscape, the latent hippie in my head let out a “far out man”, while the cosmo girl stared back in disbelief. Could I really make the switch? Would my inner hippie chick finally get her day? I could be like one of those girls in the Sundance catalog! Ok, maybe that’s a stretch, but add 25 years and 25 pounds and you never know. And then the big question…would I actually swap Prada for Birki? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. But I have a feeling that even when my inner hippie chick is a few thousand miles away from 10011, the other gal will be there too, in a chic Sundance kaftan and a pair of Prada clogs…

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What other recipe could I possibly make this week than Crunchy Granola? I love granola over yogurt, ice cream or just out of hand, and what I love most about making it myself is that I control the sweetness and can chock it full of my favorite stuff. This is my go-to recipe for basic granola, but it’s highly adaptable to whatever dried fruits or nuts you have on hand. My favorites are dried cherries, raisins and almonds, but cranberries, apricots, pecans or pumpkin seeds would all work equally well. I use a nut butter in place of oil, and sweeten with a combination of brown sugar and Lyle’s Golden Syrup. Golden syrup is well-known in the UK and has a subtle caramel flavor. Since it’s not available everywhere, honey or agave is a perfect substitute.

Crunchy Granola

Makes about 4 cups

The granola will keep well for a week or so in an airtight container, but I doubt you’ll have to worry about storing it for long.

• 2 cups old-fashioned oats (not quick cook or steel-cut)
• 1/3 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
• ¼ cup dried tart cherries
• ¼ cup raisins (I use jumbo ones from Trader Joe’s)
• 1/3 cup whole almonds, coarsely chopped (I used unsalted roasted ones, but raw ones are fine too)
• ¼ tsp salt
• Zest and juice from a large orange (a little more than ¼ cup)
• ¾ tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp ginger
• ¼ tsp cardamom
• 2 TBSP brown sugar
• 2 TBSP Lyle’s Golden Syrup (substitute honey or agave if you can’t find)
• 2 TBSP almond butter

Preheat oven to 300°F. Line a sided cookie sheet with foil and spray with nonstick spray.

Coarsely chop the cherries and toss with the raisins (if you are using jumbo raisins, chop those too.) Set the dried fruit aside – you’ll add them into the granola once it comes out of the oven.

In a medium bowl, toss together the oats, coconut, orange zest, salt, spices and nuts. In a small saucepan, combine the sugar, syrup, almond butter, orange juice and a good pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and cook for about a minute, stirring (careful that it doesn’t boil over.) Pour over the oat mixture and mix well. Pour onto prepared cookies sheet and spread out. Bake for about 25-30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes. Keep an eye on it the last 10 minutes so it doesn’t get too dark. When everything is golden brown and starting to get crispy, turn off the oven but leave pan in as the oven cools. This will guarantee a crunchy granola. Once the granola is nice and crisp, sprinkle over the dried fruit and toss. Kick of the Birkis (or Pradas) and, like…enjoy, man… Calories: about 200 per ½ cup.

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You’ll Give Me WHAT?!

There are few things more ego leveling than selling your stuff. Sure, applying for job after job (after job) with nary a nibble is rough, and writing what you think is a compelling online dating profile then getting very few pings can be painful. But those are child’s play compared to pricing your beloved possessions and then having a cheeky bargain hunter offer a tenth of the price you agonized over, prefacing it with a snotty “I’ll take it off your hands for this meager bag of peanuts, missy.” Anyone who has gone through the process of a moving sale knows exactly what I’m talking about. That “perfect for that spot” sectional that lovingly cradles your tuchas like a giant micro suede hug just won’t fit into the cute cottage you’re renting 3,000 miles away. And so you list it with Craig, hoping to find it a good home in exchange for fuel and roadside food funds.

I’m not sure why the act of selling a sofa would have such an effect, but it did. Perhaps the ordeal of purchasing the item in the first place is the reason. It’s different from when you first move out on your own, and the entirety of your décor had Swedish names and was assembled with an allen wrench. There’s a built-in expiration date on that stuff as you move past the “dorm-room décor” phase. But when you’ve reached a certain age and level of decorating and bankbook maturity, furniture buying rises to a higher level. The process becomes far more elaborate as does emotional attachment. First you tear pictures from catalogs, then surf on-line in an attempt to narrow down candidates. This, plus polling potential sitters on your selected options is necessary before you can move onto the “sit-testing” stage. And merely sitting on a sofa is never enough. First you sit, then you stretch out the legs, perhaps a “flop on couch” test to determine strength, and finally assume a napping position. This is an investment in comfort, and all of the variations of that must be explored before plastic comes out of wallet. So after going through all that, then adopting one and living on it in snuggly comfort for 7 years, having someone dare suggest they’d take it off my hands for cheap is like tossing an icy glass of water in the puss.

Tomorrow I start setting up appointments for potential parents for my couch. Luckily, there are several who seem appropriately enamored with my beige comfy friend. So what about that bargain hunter? Well, I’ve saved their contact info too, just in case. After all, it is just a couch…

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This past week I’ve been dog sitting at my mom’s house while she’s away. Since it’s been a string of rainy days, I thought I’d raid her recipe box and finally copy down those recipes that remind me of family. And as it’s Mother’s Day weekend too, the first one I tried was Schnecken, perfect for breakfast, brunch or afternoon tea for mom’s and non-moms alike. “Schnecken” literally means snail in German, and some awfully tasty pastry snails they are! What I like the best about these is that they are not over-the-top goopy sweet and sticky, but just the right amount of yeasty dough, sugar, cinnamon, nuts and a touch of citrus glaze. If your preference of breakfast pastry runs to the more outrageous sugar-bomb side, I’m sure there are many wonderful recipes available online.

Schnecken

Makes a baker’s dozen (13), which means you can make a dozen to share, and still have one leftover for that cup of coffee you just made…

For the dough

• 1 package yeast
• 2/3 cup warm milk
• 2 TBSP sugar
• ½ tsp salt
• ¼ cup very soft butter
• 2 cups sifted flour, plus a little extra if needed
• 1 large orange, zested and cut in half (you’ll need about 2 ½ tsp zest total)

For the filling

• 1 cup sugar
• 1 TBSP cinnamon
• ½ cup seedless raisins + 1/3 cup orange juice (from the zested orange)
• ½ cup chopped almonds or walnuts
• 2 TBSP melted butter

For the glaze

• Juice from ½ an orange, and ¼ lemon
• ½ tsp orange zest
• ½ cup + 1 TBSP powdered sugar
• Pinch salt

Making the dough:  I suppose you could make this in a mixer, but I actually like doing it by hand. It doesn’t require a ton of kneading, just 2 or 3 minutes and I feel like I’m exercising (and can therefore have a second schnecken with mid morning coffee…)

Warm the milk in the microwave for about a minute. It should be quite warm but not so hot that you couldn’t stick a finger in it. Sprinkle the yeast over the warm milk and let sit a minute and start to dissolve, then mix in. Whisk in the sugar, salt, 1 teaspoon orange zest and softened butter. Switch to a wooden spoon and add in 1 cup of the flour and mix well. Once the first cup of flour is incorporated, add in the second and mix. At this point I usually ditch the spoon and mix it with my hands, first in the bowl then on a floured work surface.

Knead the dough for about 2-3 minutes until it is smooth and not sticky. Depending upon weather and how damp or dry your kitchen, you may need to add up to a cup more flour. Start with an extra tablespoon or two and go from there. You can always add more flour, but you can’t take it away.

Form the dough into a ball and put in a buttered bowl, turning once so both sides gets a little butter on it. Cover bowl with a piece of cling wrap or a clean damp towel and set aside in a warm spot away from drafts. Let rise until doubled, about 35-45 minutes. While the dough is rising prepare the filling.

Add the juice from half the orange to the raisins and microwave for 45 seconds. Set aside to steep. In a measuring cup or small bowl, mix the cup sugar, cinnamon, chopped nuts and 1 tsp orange zest together. Set aside until the dough is ready.

Once the dough has risen to double, punch down and knead on a floured surface about a minute. Cover with cling wrap and let rest 10-15 minutes. (Rolling out right after you knead guarantees you’ll wrestle with a dough that just wants to pop back to it’s original shape.)

Butter a sided cookie sheet or line it with parchment and butter the paper. After the dough has rested, roll out to a rectangle about 18”x 13 (just a little bigger than sided cookie sheet). Brush the dough with 2 TBSP melted butter. Drain any juice from the raisins (there likely won’t be any), and mix the raisins into the cinnamon/sugar/nuts mixture. Spread the filling over the dough evenly to just a little short of the edge.

With the long size facing you, roll up the dough like a jellyroll, pinching the dough together when you get to the edge. Slice the roll into about 1”inch slices. Place the slices on the cookies sheet, spacing out evenly so there’s space between them to rise. Cover with cling wrap and let rise another 35 minutes till doubled.

Preheat oven to 350°F. When the schnecken have finished the second rise, bake for 20 minutes, rotating pan after 10 minutes.

Prepare the glaze by mixing juice from other half of orange plus 1 tsp lemon juice, ½ tsp orange zest, a pinch of salt and 1 cup + 1TBSP powdered sugar. Stir until the sugar is melted. When the schnecken come out of the oven, drizzle each with a tablespoon of the glaze. Brew up the coffee and Guten Appetit! Calories: About 275 per schnecken.

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What Siri Hears

Every morning I get up and go for a big long walk to start my day. It started off as a way to trick myself into exercising, figuring if I was going somewhere rather than running on a treadmill like a gerbil, I could pretend I wasn’t really exercising. My daily rambles are also useful in shaking my muses awake, especially those associated with writing weekly ruminations. And when a blog-related thought, snappy bon mot, or just something I need to remember for later pops into my head, I usually send myself a note via email. Which used to require me stopping (or at least slowing down so I didn’t walk clear off the High Line and onto 10^th Avenue 30 feet below), while I fumbled with thumbs to tap out the message on my phone. That is until Siri stepped into my life.

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I’ve waxed poetic before about my love for Siri, and how with one little word, (“weather”) I get not only the forecast, but commentary too (“Brrr…it’s 32 degrees”, “It’s a hot one, 92 degrees”.)  But you really get to know the gal when you play around her ‘send an email’ function. Just hit her magic button, ask her to send a note to someone (in this case, me) and a few questions later, POOF it’s done! Which is a pretty great feature when you are deep into a 5-mile walk and a flash of pithy blog goodness comes your way. Just “send an email to me, home” and I’m off, no fumbling with thumbs and touch screens, no to and fro-ing between screen and eye in the attempt to actually see what I’m typing. Just modern technology at it’s finest. Of course, what you say and what Siri hears can vary just a tad, and that’s when she gets creative.

For example, after spending several days cleaning out the accumulated crap of 9 years in one apartment, the idea for last week’s post popped into my head. So I asked Siri to send me an email reminder. “Do blog on the crap that accumulates in your apartment when you move” became “Do a blog on the crack that accumulates in Los Altos Windlestraw YouTube.” Huh? Ok, crap and crack are close, but how did she manage to get ‘accumulate’ but follow it with ‘Los Altos Windlestraw YouTube?! And what exactly IS a Windlestraw, anyway? Siri got a little confused, it happens to us all. But what really takes the cake is when she editorializes. This week’s recipe is for chicken fricassee. Granted, fricassee is probably not the easiest word to throw at her; it’s not likely Steve Jobs’ minions are well versed in French culinary banter. But really, I don’t think it was necessary for Siri to resort to insults. When I asked her to send me a note of “chicken fricassee”, what I got in return was this:  “Cheap, call me…”

Twice in the span of two weeks I called upon my family’s basic recipe for Chicken Fricassee. The first was on a cold, raw day and I needed something warm and cozy. The second after a particularly stressful day of cleaning out crap and looking for a new place to call home 3,000 miles away. Ever since I was a kid, chicken fricassee meant comfort in food form. At it’s simplest, fricassee is a relatively quick yet elegant dish of braised chicken (or veal) in a basic white wine sauce. Mushrooms are  traditionally added, but my mom and Oma would always add in peas, sometimes carrots too. Oma would serve it over toast points and steamed asparagus, or in little puff pastry cups for fancy luncheon. It’s a wonderfully comforting dish with a touch of class, despite what Siri thinks…

Chicken Fricassee (a.k.a.: Cheap, call me)

Serves 2

• 1 TBSP olive oil
• 8 oz. boneless skinless chicken thighs
• 1 large shallot, minced
• 2/3 cup fresh or frozen peas
• 1 cup low sodium chicken stock
• 1/3 cup white wine or dry vermouth
• 1 TBSP butter at room temperature
• 1 TBSP flour
• Zest of a lemon, plus 1 TBSP lemon juice
• 6 oz. asparagus spears
• 2 slices good white bread
• Salt and pepper
• 2 TBSP chopped parsley

Cut up the chicken thighs into bite-sized pieces and season with salt and pepper. In a medium sauté pan, heat the olive oil, and lightly brown the chicken. Remove chicken to a plate.  Add the minced shallot to the pan and a pinch of salt and sauté until just softened (add in a little more oil if necessary). Deglaze the pan with the wine or vermouth, scraping up any brown bits. Add back in the chicken and any accumulated juices, then stock and lemon zest. Bring to a simmer, cover and cook until the chicken is cooked through, about 10-15 minutes.

In a small bowl, mix the flour and butter together into a paste with a fork. The fancy term for this is beurre manié, and it’s one of the best ways to thicken a sauce or gravy and guarantee no lumps. Set the paste aside.

Once the chicken has cooked for about 10 minutes, add in the peas and simmer for another 5 minutes.  Whisk in the butter-flour paste and simmer sauce 2-3 minutes until it thickens. Stir in the lemon juice and taste for seasonings, adding salt and pepper if needed. Sprinkle with chopped parsley.

To serve:

Toast the bread and cut in half on the diagonal. Put two triangles of toast in each plate. Steam the asparagus spears until just tender, and lay across the toast points. Spoon the fricassee over the asparagus spears. Calories: about 470 per serving.

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Who Bought All This Stuff???

It couldn’t have been me. I don’t have that big a place, just 800 square feet, and other than a penchant for amassing fabulous footwear, I’m fairly conservative with my purchasing habits. Seriously, my face won’t be showing up on the next installment of “Fun with Hoarding” any time soon. So I’m flummoxed by the fact that I’ve managed to fill three large hefty bags with crap since starting process of purging before my big move, and I’m still filling! But if I didn’t buy all this sh…er, stuff, who did? There’s only one explanation…the Crap Fairy.

Under cloak of darkness, the Crap Fairy enters my home and begins her fiendish work, filling my small apartment with more stuff than I’ll ever admit to buying. Take that stack of cooking magazines over there. She doesn’t just plop a few extra on top. No, that would be too easily spotted. Instead, she sticks them in between the one or two (dozen) I’ve purchased, wedging them tightly. Everything looks neat and tidy, her dastardly doings only noticeable when you decide to move cross-country and have to pack all your crap. She uses the same trick with t-shirts. The crap fairy observes your habits and just expands upon them. New t-shirts, the ones with no stains, not stretched out, those she pretty much leaves alone. She knows you are in them almost every day, and to place a few more in the pile would draw suspicion. Instead, she focuses on the stack of “work out” t-shirts. You know, the ones that are no longer fit for proper company, so you put in the closet with your workout gear. Who cares about that tea stain you just can’t get out when you’re all sweaty, no one. Same for the “sleep t-shirts”, “cleaning t-shirts” and “dirty-job” ones. CF just loves messing around with those. She’s pretty cheeky with cds and books too. You know you’d never have bought that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch album, or anything by Jackie Collins, yet there they are. Crap Fairy strikes again!

Well, I’m three big garbage bags down, and will probably fill several more before I’m through. And I think I’m putting locks on my closet doors in the new place. Because I have a feeling it won’t take long for you know who to find my new address…

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What’s the perfect meal after a day of purging your crap? Something I can make with what’s at hand, because there was no way I was going to do any more shopping! That’s exactly how this Spring Vegetable Paella came about. The bones of this are from my simple chicken paella recipe, with the spring vegetables I had as the star. You could easily make this version vegetarian by substituting vegetable broth for chicken, leaving out the chorizo and adding a tablespoon of olive oil to cook the sofrito. It is also extremely adaptable as far as what vegetables you want to use. I would have added asparagus into this too, but I was too lazy to run out to the market to get some.

Spring Vegetable Paella

Serves 4-6

• 4 ½- 5 ½ cups chicken broth
• A good pinch of saffron threads
• 2-3 oz Spanish chorizo, sliced into thin coins (this is a hard sausage – don’t use the soft chorizo in casings)
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• ½ onion, grated on the largest holes of a box grater
• 1 medium tomato, halved and grated and the largest holes of a box grater
• 1 ½ cups Arborio rice
• 1 ½ cups frozen artichoke hearts (and/or 1 cup asparagus, cut into 1-inch pieces)
• 1 cup fresh or frozen peas
• ½ cup frozen edamame (or if you are lucky enough to have fresh or frozen shelled fava beans, use those)
• Zest of a lemon
• Salt and pepper
• Lemon wedges

Lightly toast a pinch of saffron in a dry pan, then add ½ cup hot chicken stock and steep 15 minutes. Heat the remainder of the stock in medium saucepan. After 15 minutes, add the saffron stock to the rest. Taste the stock and adjust seasonings. It should be well seasoned so add salt if needed. Remove from heat and set aside until ready to add to rice.

Heat a large sauté pan on medium high heat. Add the sliced chorizo and cook until just browned and the fat has been released. Remove the chorizo to a plate but leave the oil you’ve rendered. There should be enough fat for the next step, but if it looks a little dry, add in up to a tablespoon olive oil. Reduce the heat to medium and make the sofrito by sautéing the onions and garlic until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring often, until the mixture darkened to a deep red and is thick, 15-20 minutes. If it starts to stick to the pan, add a little water. (You can make everything up to this point several hours ahead and set aside.)

About 30-40 minutes before you are ready to eat, bring the broth back to a simmer and set the sauté or paella pan with the sofrito over your largest burner on medium high heat. Add the rice, stirring until it’s opaque, 1-2 minutes. Pour in 3 1/2 cups of the broth (reserve the rest) and stir or shake the pan to evenly distribute the rice. Do not stir the rice from this point on. Simmer vigorously, occasionally moving the pan to distribute the heat as evenly as possibly. When the rice is at the same level as the liquid, (about 8-10 minutes), turn the heat down to medium low. Sprinkle in the peas, edamame and lemon zest. Nestle in the artichoke hearts and, if using, asparagus around the pan. Continue to simmer gently, rotating the pan as necessary until the liquid has been absorbed, about another 10-15 minutes. Taste a grain just below the top layer of rice; it should be al dente. If the rice is not done but all the liquid is absorbed, add a little more of the reserved stock or water and cook a few more minutes. I’ve found at covering the pan with foil helps move this along.

When the rice is tender, it’s time to create the socarrat (crust on the bottom, and a key factor of paella). Increase the heat to medium-high cook for 2-3 minutes, until the bottom layer of rice starts to caramelize, creating the socarrat. Rotate the pan over the heat so all parts can get a crust. The rice will crackle, but if it starts to smell burned, remove from heat immediately.

Turn off the heat and let the paella rest, covered in foil, for about 5 minutes. Serve with right out of the pan with wedges of lemon. Calories: about 320(for 6) to 475 (for 4) per serving.

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Roots and Seeds

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Here’s the thing about “rebooting” your life; it usually involves uprooting it too. Ultimately that’s a good thing. If the roots have been in place for too long, flexibility, or rather the lack of it becomes an issue. I’m not saying I’m against roots, far from it. Roots provide strength. The trick is to know the difference between being rooted, and being stuck. For me, being rooted in an idea led me to being stuck. I’m talking major stuckage here. And as everyone knows, major stuckage leads to major suckage. My life, to speak plainly, sucked. Until I decided to reboot, and uproot. Let me explain.

For over three years I’ve been by most definitions, unemployed. Oh sure I consulted, somewhat steadily at first, but as the economic quagmire of late got thicker, the work got thinner to the point of non-existence. At least the work I had been rooted in and built a 20-year career in did. Bring on the suckage! So there I was, stuck in the well-worn rut of assuming my next job would be in the same path as my last. Any well-meant suggestions to “do something else” and “maybe move someplace else” were quickly shot down (and I belatedly apologize for the large chunks I bit from caring suggestor’s heads.) I mean, I was 50. You don’t start something new at 50! And leave New York? MY New York City??  Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.

But…What if I did do something else? What if I picked up and made a fresh start, doing something completely different? And what if that completely different thing was something I actually loved to do? The seed of an idea was planted. And as my Sisyphean efforts pushing my 20-year resume up the career path carried on, the seed took root. So in about three months, I’ll be packing up, picking up, and planting that seed in a wonderful bakery & café owned by friends in Oregon. Am I excited? Yes. Am I scared? You bet. But am I stuck? No, not any more…

Speaking of roots and seeds (ah, the recipe segue…) the other day as I was cleaning out a collection of cooking magazines large enough to rival my shoes, I ran across two recipes for gnudi. Gnudi are often lumped in the same category as gnocci (because things beginning with “gn” should be, I suppose.) But gnudi are far more delicate, like little cheese pillows that melt in the mouth. Ricotta is the main ingredient in these darling little dumplings, with a little egg, flour and breadcrumbs to hold it all together. And they are very adaptable to add-ins like spinach or in my case, beets. I make a beet ravioli with butter and poppy seeds that I just love, so they too served as inspiration for these Beet Gnudi with Brown Butter and Poppy Seeds.

Beet Gnudi with Brown Butter and Poppy Seeds

Makes about 40 gnudi, or six servings as a first course

• 1 15oz. container of whole milk ricotta
• ½ cup grated Parmesan
• 4 oz. cooked beets, grated (about two 2-inch beets)
• 1 egg plus 1 egg yolk, beaten
• ½ tsp salt
• ¼ tsp pepper
• Pinch nutmeg
• 3 TBSP dried plain breadcrumbs
• 4 TBSP flour
• ½ cup semolina for dusting (or flour if you don’t have semolina)
• 6 TBSP unsalted butter
• 1 TBSP poppy seeds

Sprinkle the semolina on a sided cookie sheet. Mix together the first 9 ingredients until just combined. Scoop out a tablespoon of the mixture into your hands and roll into flattened balls. Place on the cookie sheet and roll around a little in the semolina to coat. Continue with the rest of the mixture. Cover and chill the gnudi in the refrigerator for at least a half hour.* (* At this stage , if you wanted to make them another day, you could put the pan in the freezer and once the gnudi are frozen, stow in a freezer bag for future use. Just remember to defrost them before cooking, or they will fall apart as they cook.)

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Do NOT salt the water (the gnudi are salted already.) While you are waiting for the water to boil, melt the butter in a pan over medium high heat. When it starts to foam, turn down to medium and add the poppy seeds. Continue cooking, swirling pan until the butter is a nutty brown and fragrant. Keep a close eye on it so the butter doesn’t burn. Once the butter is browned, turn off heat.

When the water is boiling, carefully drop the gnudi in and cook at a slow boil until the gnudi float, about 1 minute. Do this in 2-3 batches if you are making the full recipe. The gnudi are very delicate (which is why they are so light and wonderful) so too rapid a boil and they will break apart. When they are just floating, remove with slotted spoon to a warm serving platter. Drizzle the browned butter and poppy seeds over and devour!  Calories: approximately 285 per serving.

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Install and Reboot

It seems like every other day I’m reminded that something in my bits and bytes world requires updating or upgrading. One day I look at the blue apps icon on my phone and it’s content and happy, the next brings a bright red 5, or 8, or 16, telling me that many apps require update and installation. It’s the same with my computer. I can be busily typing or surfing along and all of a sudden everything comes to a grinding halt as the “software update” screen pops up, barging into my otherwise peaceful computer world. At least it’s polite when it interrupts, providing me with a few options so I can see details, or “not now”, or move forward to install and reboot.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the same screen popped up in life? Choose “show details” and up pops a neat list of the things in your life that will change. No surprises to have to cope with, no rugs pulled out from under feet, and you even get to tick off the things you want to happen and not select the things you don’t. Or choose “not now” and it all goes away until you feel like dealing with it. Ready to make the change? Just click “install and reboot”, your new life software installs, your life reboots, and everything you’ll need to operate in the new upgraded world is there, easy peasy. Yeah, that would be sweet, but unfortunately life doesn’t work like that. You don’t get the neat list of all the things that will change, nor the choice to tick off the ones you’d like and those you don’t. And while avoidance has it’s charms, eventually “not now” catches up and becomes yes, NOW, regardless of whether you’re ready or not. Major changes will always require you to install new “software” and reboot. The good news is if you are open to it, you might just get a pretty cool upgrade in the process.

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Being one who loves to cook and bake (and tell you all about it), I’m constantly reading recipes. Usually I’ll take something I’ve made before or have set aside to try, and figure out how to do it with what I’ve got on hand or what’s in season in my market. Since Passover and Easter were recently on the calendar, ground almonds were available on sale and became my recipe reboot muse. I opened my well-worn copy of Patricia Well’s Bistro Cooking and her version of pate sablee or sweet pastry dough served as inspiration for this Almond Pastry Dough. It’s more cookie-like than traditional flaky pastry, but that makes it easier to use too because it requires no rolling out. You just press it into the tart pan, chill it and blind bake it. It’s a perfect base for the red wine poached pear and coffee cream tarts I made with it.

Almond Pate Sablee  (Inspiration from Patricia Well’s Bistro Cooking)

Makes enough dough for six 4-inch tartlet shells (or one 10” tart pan)

• 1 ¼ cups flour
• 1/3 cup + 2 TBSP ground almonds (also called almond meal)
• ½ cup powdered sugar
• ¼ tsp salt
• zest of an orange (about 1 TBSP)
• ½ cup (1 stick) cold butter, cut into ¼-inch cubes
• 1 egg, lightly beaten

Add the first 6 ingredients into the bowl of a food processor and process until just until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs, about 10-15 seconds. Add the egg and pulse until the pastry begins to hold together, about another 20 seconds. Transfer the dough to a sheet of parchment or wax paper and flatten into a disk. If you are making tartlets, divide the disk into 6 equal pieces. (At this point you could wrap everything well in cling wrap, put into a zippered freezer bag and freeze for up to a month.)

Press the dough out quickly into the tartlet pans, making sure to go up the sides too. I find it easier to press the dough out with a piece of plastic wrap on top of it, but you could also use well floured fingers if you like. Cover well and chill for at least 2-3 hours.

Once the dough is well chilled, preheat oven to 375°F. Prick the dough with a fork, and line with buttered foil (butter facing dough). Then fill the shell with pie weights, dry beans or rice, place on a cookie sheet (makes it easier to get them in and out of oven), and bake for 15 minutes. Carefully remove foil and bake uncovered for another 5 minutes until lightly browned.

Transfer to a rack to cool. Once cooled these can be filled immediately or frozen up to a month.

When I made these, I filled them with an espresso pastry cream and topped them with slices of the most wonderful red wine poached pears, and a drizzle of the poaching liquid reduced down until it was very syrupy. Here’s the recipe for the pears (also from Bistro Cooking), and a link to the pastry cream recipe on epicurious.com.

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Poires Au Vin Rouge (Pears in Red Wine)

From Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells

These could stand alone as a lovely dessert, but when added to the cream and tarts, well… let’s just say the reboot was a definitely a worthwhile upgrade!

• 4 large pears, peeled with stems intact
• ½ cup sugar (or vanilla sugar if you are lucky enough to have it)
• 1 bottle fruity red wine
• ½ cup crème de cassis
• 2 TBSP lemon juice
• 1 sprig rosemary
• 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise (or 1 tsp vanilla extract)
• 4 whole cloves
• 4 black peppercorns

In a deep non-reactive saucepan that will hold the pears snugly, combine all of the ingredients. Cover and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Turn the pears from time to time, so they are evenly coated. Simmer until the pears are cooked through, about 30 minutes.

Remove from the heat; allow to cool. Transfer the pears and liquid to a serving dish. Cover and refrigerate for 24 hours before serving. If you are using them for the tarts, halve, core and cut into thin slices lengthwise, then lay them out on a paper towel and pat dry so they don’t weep into the pastry cream.

Espresso Coffee Cream

[So what do you do with the leftover poaching liquid? Well, you could use it again to poach more pears, or do what I did. I reduced it down until it was thick and drizzled a little over the tarts, and the rest over vanilla ice cream a few days later!]

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Just give me a dry martini and a pack of Lucky’s: An Ode to Mad Men

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In honor of tonight’s return of Don, Roger, Joan, Peggy and the boys, I’m posting last years homage (ok, gush-fest) to the new season of Mad Men. 

Rest assured a new recipe and associated musings will appear later in the week, but for now I’m too busy chilling martini glasses, making rumaki and backcombing to get my bouffant to the right height.  Enjoy!

Just give me a dry martini and a pack of Lucky’s: An Ode to Mad Men.

A Clearer View

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For the past few weeks my thoughts have been occupied with something other than food. Actually, more like the past many weeks. There are big decisions on the horizon, so I’ve been doing all the things they tell you to do when noodling something important. I’ve gone on long walks, tried visualization, made many lists and prayed to everyone up there in an effort to come to the right verdict. Hell, if I were able to meditate for more than a minute or two before getting distracted by what I want to make for my next meal, I’d meditate too. It’s funny the things people do to find clarity, especially when life-changing events loom. Some seek spiritual guidance through prayer, others make countless checklists and spreadsheets, and some just trust and leap. Me?? I cleaned windows. At least that’s what I did the other day to shift the karmic equilibrium and find what I hope will be the right path. Yeah sure, washing windows to find “clarity” is just dripping symbolism but cut me some slack. It actually helped.

Usually when I’m in some sort of mental turmoil, I cook. This is cooking in my heels, right? And since diving up to my elbows into a recipe is my go-to tactic, the whole cleaning windows thing came as a bit of a shock to me too. Regardless, there I sat contemplating (with my box of tissues) as I wondered what was next, what was there to do, what would I do, when the sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the window just at the right angle to warm my back. Taking this as some sort of sign, I smiled, looked up and thought… “GEEZ that window is FILTHY!” Suddenly I was off, a paper towel wielding, glass cleaner spritzing gladiator. And after all the windows were sparkling (and I was sufficiently exhausted), I started to laugh at my nuttiness. I know that the next chapter is going to be a major adjustment, change really sucks sometimes, and making that change at this stage of my life scares the hell out of me. But I’m also starting to get a little excited about the next chapter too. Did cleaning my windows make the difference? Probably not, but for next few days at least, I have a much clearer view.

Lest you think I ignored the kitchen during my window-washing frenzy, I didn’t. After putting the cleaner away, I broke out the asparagus, leeks and goat cheese for this Spring Asparagus and Leek Tart. My goal was to lighten up the traditional quiche recipes we all love, and this one does the trick. Great with a green salad for a light lunch, it would also make a great addition to any brunch buffet,

Spring Asparagus and Leek Tart

Serves 6-8

For the vegetable mixture

• 1 TBSP olive oil
• 1 cup chopped leeks
• 8 oz. (trimmed) asparagus
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• Pinch salt

For the custard

• 1 tsp chopped fresh tarragon
• 1 tsp lemon zest
• ¾ cup milk (whole or 2%)
• 1 egg plus 2 yolks
• 5 oz. room temperature goat cheese
• ½ cup shredded gruyere or swiss, divided into two ¼ cup portions

For the crust

• 4 oz. (6-8 sheets) Phylo dough
• Olive oil cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Cut off the tips of the asparagus (about 2-inches long) and set aside. Chop the rest of the asparagus into ½ inch pieces. Heat the olive oil in a skillet; add the leeks, asparagus and a pinch of salt and sauté over medium-low heat until the leeks are softened and asparagus tender. Remove from heat and stir in teaspoon lemon juice. Set aside to cool.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, goat cheese, lemon zest and tarragon. Stir in ¼ cup of the gruyere. Set aside.

Put a 10” tart pan with removable bottom onto a cookie sheet so it’s easy to move in and out of the oven. Spray with the cooking spray, (or you could brush with olive oil if you don’t have the spray). Lay one sheet of Phylo into the pan, making sure you cover the rest with a damp towel so they don’t dry out. Spray the dough with oil. Continue with the remaining pieces, spraying each layer and staggering the points of Phylo so there’s overhanging dough all around the pan.

[Recipe Note: Phylo likes to tear, a lot, and if you try to fight that you will make yourself crazy. In this recipe it really doesn’t matter. The only thing you have to worry about is making a relatively even thickness in each layer so it bakes evenly. So if it tears, just put the pieces in the pan, making sure you do have dough overhanging the pan.]

When the vegetables are completely cool, add to the custard, mix well and pour into the prepared pan. Take the overhanging dough and tuck in around the pan making a raised crust around the edges. Spray or brush edges with oil. Arrange the reserved asparagus tips decoratively on the top of the tart, and sprinkle with the remaining ¼ cup gruyere.

Bake 30-40 minutes until the custard is set and the cheese has brown a little. Let cool 5 minutes before serving. Calories: about 240 per serving (6 servings.)

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Spring Cleaning

When I was a kid, the beginning of spring meant several things. For one, the days were getting longer so streetlights came on later. To any kid living under the “you can stay out and play until the street lights come on” rule, this meant we all got a little longer to revel in a heated game of ringolevio. Spring also meant asparagus would venture onto my plate alongside a lamb shoulder chop, a meal I still have today to welcome the vernal equinox. All other signs of spring, like chocolate bunnies, new Sunday shoes and daffodils were welcomed with equal enthusiasm and glee. All but one. Spring-cleaning.

You’re nodding right now, aren’t you? You too know that time of year when mothers everywhere, who were taught by their mothers, (who I’m certain were taught by their mothers), were convinced that the spring couldn’t, well, spring until everything was cleaned to within an inch of its life. And when I say everything I mean EVERYTHING. Things you would never think needed cleaning, that no one would ever see (apart from a spider or two) were dusted, swept, spritzed and scrubbed until sparkling. Hutches happily living undisturbed suddenly moved away from cozy corners so dust that truly belonged behind could be eradicated. Backs of sofas never meant to see daylight were vacuumed and moved back to where no one would see them again. Every knic and knac washed clean, along with every square inch of window and floor. And if you were an able-bodied kid with any time on your hands (or just within mother-sightlines), you were sucked into the spring-cleaning vortex.

Futilely I’d try to get out of the chores assigned, but no whining, cajoling or feigning infirmity ever worked. Any clever attempts at explaining the logic that no one would ever know if the back of that dresser was clean were met with the all-final “I’LL know.” Case closed. My only consolation was the belief that when I was finally out on my own and the season rolled around, there was no way I was going to do this nonsense. And I didn’t…well, after a year or two of trying not to.

These days when the calendar hits that third week of March, I buy bunches of daffodils and asparagus. Then I whisper a little “you’re welcome” behind my sofa to the spiders. They’ll earn their springtime reprieve by munching mosquitoes in a few months.

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One of the annual signs of spring happens in my freezer. More a winter purge than a spring thaw, I peruse the collection of dishes played with over a long winter in search of new combinations that will move them from freezer to plate. That’s exactly how this week’s recipe sprang forth from my freezer’s dormant yet fertile ground. The remaining stewed tomatoes made for New Year’s Day met two wild albacore filets and became Spring Cleaning Fish Stew.  It’s a little like cioppino, a bit like puttanesca but with a sauce more brothy and lighter. Which is perfect for the warmer yet not quite balmy weather of the first week of spring.

Spring Cleaning Fish Stew

Serves 4

I served this over a simple polenta, but it would be great over pasta or by itself in a bowl with some good crusty bread.

• 3 cups stewed tomatoes (you could use my recipe, or your favorite canned variety)
• 1/3 cup pitted kalamata olives, roughly chopped
• 2 6oz. tuna filets, or any other flakey fish (swordfish or cod would work well), about ½ – ¾ inches thick
• 1 tsp finely chopped rosemary
• 1 TBSP drained capers
• 1 TBSP white balsamic vinegar or white champagne vinegar
• 1 TBSP lemon juice, plus extra for squeezing on top
• Pinch of red pepper flakes
• Salt and pepper

Add everything but the fish into a large saucepan and bring to a boil. Season the fish generously on both sides with salt and pepper. Nestle the filets into the sauce, making sure to spoon some over the tops of the filets. Reduce sauce to a simmer, cover and cook for 5 minutes. Turn the fish over and cook another 5 minutes or until the fish just begins to flake. Turn off heat.

If you are serving immediately, flake the fish and stir into the sauce. If you are not, remove the two filets whole to a plate. This will prevent the fish from overcooking. When ready to serve, warm up the sauce, flake the fish into it and serve. Calories: approximately 255 per serving.

If you like what you read here, please help me spread the word. Meantime, I’d love you to join me on Facebook (please click the ‘like’ button). Thanks!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

In honor of the Isle of Emerald and all who hail from it (including those who do just for today), I share a bounty of quick bread recipes. One I posted last year, Bubbe’s Irish Soda Bread with Sour Cream, the other two I had intended to feature one of my favorite quaffs from the land of snake-chasing saints and mischievous wee folk – Guinness. However, when faced with the quandary of using Guinness in baking, rather than using Guinness as the gods intended, I decided to go with a lovely chocolate stout in my baking instead. Rest assured the Guinness did not go to waste, and was well represented in my glass as I baked Chocolate Stout Soda Bread with Dried Cherries, and Chocolate Stout Beer Bread. 

Now let’s all lift a glass of Guinness, or Bushmills or such, and send out a toast…

May your thoughts be as glad as the shamrocks.

May your heart be as light as a song.

May each day bring you bright, happy hours

That stay with you all the year long.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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Chocolate Stout Soda Bread with Dried Cherries

Makes one loaf

This is nice with just some butter or jam

• 2 cups flour
• ¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• ½ tsp baking soda
• 2 tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp salt
• ¼ cup sugar
• 1 egg, slightly beaten
• 3 TBSP sour cream (lite or regular, not non-fat)
• 1 cup Guinness, chocolate stout or your favorite stout beer (I used chocolate stout from Trader Joe’s and it works nicely – why waste a good Guinness?)
• ¾ cup dried cherries
• 1 TBSP melted butter

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush a 9-inch cake pan with some of the melted butter.

Sift the first 5 ingredients in a large bowl. Take a ¼ cup of the dry mixture and toss with the dried cherries (this will keep the cherries from sinking to the bottom of the batter when added.)

In a smaller bowl, beat the egg with the sour cream and sugar until well mixed. Add the stout and mix together until incorporated. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry, mix just until there are no dry spots (don’t over-mix), then fold in the dried cherries. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and even out. Brush the top of the bread with the remaining melted butter. Bake for 30-35 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Remove from pan and cool on a rack for 10 minutes. Cut into 8-12 wedges, slather with butter, and enjoy! Total calories, 1850, or 155-230 per wedge.

Chocolate Stout Beer Bread

Makes one loaf

I love this with some goat cheese or a nice sharp cheddar

• 3 cups self-rising flour
• 3/4 tsp baking soda
• ¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• ¼ tsp salt
• 12 oz. chocolate stout (or other stout beer)
• 1 egg, slightly beaten
• 2 TBSP sour cream (lite or regular, not non-fat)
• 4 TBSP brown sugar
• Zest of a large orange
• 1 TBSP butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush an 8-inch loaf pan well with some of the melted butter.

Sift the flour, baking soda, cocoa and salt into a large bowl. Wisk in the orange zest. In a medium bowl, beat the egg, sour cream and sugar together, then add the beer and mix.  Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix just until no flour is visible – don’t over mix. Pour into prepared loaf pan and brush top with remaining melted butter. Bake 45-55 minutes, or until tester inserted in middle comes out clean. Cool on rack 10 minutes. Calories: 1900 total, or about 160 calories per slice (12 slices).