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Life in a Northern Town: the exploits of an ecstatic Alaskan
Lens: the adventures of a girl and her camera
There are some days at work that are just way to hectic for me to break away for a bit, drive home, and prepare a delicious meal.
Luckily, I have this recipe, and I can make a delicious, healthy meal at work.
I have a feeling I'm not the only one who's occasionally too busy to get the much needed lunch respite, so in honor of all of us eat-at-our-deskers, I present this, a throughly modern, healthy, and delicious version of the typical American baked potato.
If you're like me, that previously mentioned russet potato (a starchy root whose super-nutritious skins are largely discarded), piled high with butter (artery clogger #1), cheese (A.C. #2), sour cream (A.C. #3), bacon (A.C. #4) and chives (woah, an innocuous one managed to get in there) is pretty unappealing. Try this take instead: a yam (not candied, but left in its pure fiber- and vitamin-rich form), piled with tangy plain yogurt (pretty healthy, especially when compared to sour cream), cumin (a wonderful spice), and rosemary (another fantastic flavor). See, the beauty of this lunch is that not only is it as easy and quick to prepare as the four-fold artery clogger, it's much more flavorful because you use herbs and spices and not lots of animal fat on a root veggie that already has plenty of flavor on its own. (Quick note: yes, that is a jar of ground cumin - I buy most of my spices whole but I go through cumin so fast that I don't take issue with buying it ground. I do keep whole cumin on hand, but for a quick, easy recipe like this it's just easier to take the shortcut.)
And I must admit it: I'm a sucker for the yogurt, cumin, and rosemary blend. I first ran across it in middle eastern lamb spread I make around Easter and for some reason it just works with the yam. And really, with fresh, flavorful ingredients like this, what's not to love? Unless, of course, you count the glares of envy that your Lean Cuisine-reheating officemates will be shooting you when they smell the lunch you're walking around with.
Click here for the recipe for "Baked yam with middle eastern flavors" »
I have no problem admitting it: I am a garlic freak. It may well be the most perfect herb: flavorful, tangy, plentiful, and easy to store. I have yet to meet a recipe that has too much garlic in it, and when I was in Korea I ate the stuff raw by the clove. When I'm cooking I routinely add fourfold the garlic called for. What's not to love?
Well, apparently there is something, since I said it was the most perfect, not the perfect herb. Let's face it: it's not too terribly difficult for good, well-intentioned garlic to go wrong. Garlic, even more than onions, can make you cry. They can pack remarkable heat into their little cloves, and if cooked improperly, you'll know all about it.
So when it came time for me to make a garlic soup (which is an idea I had been obsessing about ever since my husband bought me a garlic cookbook as a sussy), I was definitely looking for a recipe that would exploit the warm, earthy, comforting aspect of the humble clove, not the part that can make you wish that you've never been born. If I had ready access to Korean garlic that would not be a problem, since the stuff is sweet an delectable without any fuss or preparation beyond peeling it. But alas, all I have around me is American garlic. There had to be some way...
Well it turns out the that clever folks at Cook's Illustrated had been wondering the same thing. They devised an ingenious method that used three different types of cooked garlic to give this soup an earthy pleasantness that pairs perfectly with the potatoes in the soup. My favorite by far is the poached garlic heads. Slow, long heat does wonderful things to garlic by stripping away the bitterly painful flavors, softening both texture and taste. So even though in this soup you are preparing garlic in three different ways, this recipe is wonderfully simple, uncomplicated, and well-balanced
Comfort food, anyone?
Growing up, I never quite understood why chicken noodle soup was supposed to be such great comfort food. Then again, all I had had back then were Campbell's or otherwise canned versions, and frankly, I think it would be more comforting to be beaten up with a can of soup than it would be to eat that not-very-chickeny-really-freakin'-salty-and-gross stuff.
But then I remembered my Mom's famous turkey soup. It wasn't so different from a chicken noodle soup, yet it was infinitely tastier. Maybe there was hope for this much-maligned recipe after all...
I first tried my hand at a, well, decidedly modern take on the stuff that I found in the Mayo Clinic cookbook. It had a chicken stock and soy milk base with edamame in the soup, and well.... it was weird. I didn't like it. But then.... last winter I was just getting into making my own stock and had had wild success with using it as the base for soups - even with recipes I had panned when I had made them with commercial chicken broth (forgive me, for I knew not what I had done). So I got to thinking that maybe it was time to give chicken noodle soup another shot, and this time I was determined to give it a fair shot.
Disillusioned by my first disaster with the stuff, I swore off recipes and struck off on my own. Amazingly, I hit paydirt on my first try. I had stumbled upon the First Law of Soups (anything made with a homemade stock is guaranteed to not be bland, boring, or disgusting) and the Second Law of Soups (always cook your noodles or grains in the stock).
Unfortunately, stock tends to burn a hole in my freezer. I just can't keep the stuff on hand, I use it as soon as I make it. If I do happen to have some in there, I'm usually saving it for something specific. But tonight I found myself with quarts and quarts of it in my freezer, even above and beyond what I will need for my upcoming minestrone soup. I also just so happened to have the salvaged chicken from my last pot of stock handy, and I realized that once again, this soup's time had come. I mean, it's been a tough week. I could use some comfort food. Thankfully, I've finally found a way for this time-honored classic to actually be comforting.
Click here for the recipe for "Actually comforting chicken noodle soup" »
There is something about baking a pastry - a real, from-scratch, layered bit of flaky dough - that makes you feel like a total badass.
Let's face it, pastries have a pretty formidable reputation. They're certainly not in the "if you can boil water you can handle this" category. I've always had a huge soft spot for croissants, but there is another indulgence - the humble Danish pastry - that has a special, sentimental significance to me.
If there was ever a recipe for me to cut my pastry chef teeth on, this one had to be it.
See, this is another recipe that is near and dear to my heart. Like beef burgundy, my family has been eating these delicacies around holidays since I can remember. Perhaps even more significant, my Mom has been eating them ever since she can remember. When she was a kid, her next-door neighbor (the eponymous Mrs. B) would bring them over each Christmas Eve so that their family could chow down on them the next day. Before my parents' wedding my Mom had a kitchen shower where the guests brought treasured recipes to give to her. Mrs. B brought this.
So when, as I mentioned earlier, Cory and I were in the midst of forging our own traditions, these little gems were so in. I made my very first batch sans supervision this last Christmas (my previous foray being the year before when my Mom was visiting for Thanksgiving) and on the morning of Cory and I ate like royalty, feasting on the light, fluffy, and delicate (both in flavor and texture) yumminess.
I will warn that this is not the easiest recipe I've ever posted. In fact, if you lack the proper patience it's probably actually the hardest I've shared thus far. So with that in mind, use a light hand when folding the dough - you don't want to tear it. If it happens, don't hesitate to pinch the dough closed and put the dough in the fridge since it will start oozing butter. So take your time, enjoy being a real-life badass pastry chef, and enjoy the end result even more!
Sometimes we get caught up trying to outdo ourselves in the kitchen, especially when we're trying to impress or entertain. Enough herculean feats of cooking, I say! Sometimes you just have to step back and appreciate the way that we really cook - food that is simple, fresh, and delicious.
I may have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with butternut squash. As soon as it hits the grocery store, I'm burrowing through recipes, writing down the weight of the squashes I'll need in my upcoming cooking marathons, and re-inventing the stuff as much as I can.
Sadly, though, there are very few recipes for the stuff that don't involve roasting. Not that I'm complaining - roasting is one of my favorite methods because it's totally fuss-free and extremely adaptable - but sometimes I just want some texture with my squash!
Then the folks at Cafe Cacao came to the rescue: their first executive chef whipped up this recipe, which is just beyond flippin' perfect. The nibs add not only just a bit of crunch, they also toss in a subtle chocolate flavor. Not a huge fan of unsweetened chocolate? Never fear, the squash provides that sweetness! This recipe is genius. Pure genius.
Can you see why I wanted to have the wedding rehearsal dinner there?
Skeptical about chocolate and squash? I'd like to clarify and say that Scharffen Berger nibs and Hersey's have about as much in common as apples and baseball bats. Hersey's (and other mass-marketed chocolate) are all about the sweet, sweet, sweet. There is not much chocolate to speak of. On the other hand, the nibs have a very warm, complex, nutty, fruity, vanilla-y, and above all, pure chocolate-y flavor. So throw caution to the wind and give this recipe a shot while the squash is still in season.
Click here for the recipe for "Roasted squash with cacao nib vinaigrette" »
Who doesn't love a good scone for breakfast? It's like a waffle that way. Most of us have probably had blueberry or chocolate or maybe even cinnamon chip scones, but how common is a savory version?
I had run across this recipe about six months ago, and it sounded so unusual and so delicious that I tucked it away, ready to be pulled out in the right occasion. That occasion came around when I planned my Thanksgiving menu. Breakfast has a history of being all too often overlooked on that certain day, so on this Thanksgiving, my first un-adult-supervised one, I decided to start it off right.
These were perfect for the occasion - hearty, but not overly so, they satisfied without stuffing. And the bacon/smoked cheddar/scallion/fresh-ground pepper combo was fantastic and bold. Try them next time you have overnight guests - they're a very welcome surprise.
Click here for the recipe for "Savory bacon and scallion breakfast scones" »
Every year since I can remember, my family has eaten beef burgundy on Christmas Eve. The warm wine and beef flavors, served atop noodles, the meat perfectly tender... this is the food that memories are made of. Which is good, because it means that the substantial effort required to put this meal on the table is worth it. I mean, come on, this is a dish three days in the making - you know it has to be good. This recipe is like the poster child of the slow food movement.
Even though this year was the first that I'd ever enjoyed this meal on Christmas itself (it was our tradition to eat this on the Eve), this is the single dish that I associate the most with warm and cozy family dinners around the holidays. We often spent Christmas with extended family, but Christmas Eve was a smaller affair, and beef burgundy, with its warm and sensuous flavor, was the perfect dish for a more intimate setting.
Now that I'm all grown up, having married and struck out on my own, I find that I'm in a fun situation: I get to make my own traditions with Cory now. Not surprisingly, beef burgundy made the cut. We enjoyed our first Christmas as husband and wife huddled over a bowl (or two), eating the food that will tie the years of our lives together.
Every family deserves a beef burgundy of their own.
Telltale scenario #538: How to know you married the perfect man
Your hubby has come up for a visit and, alas, you have to go to a boring lunch for work. You'd pleaded to get out of it, and even your "but I only get to see my husband every three months" argument had fallen on deaf ears. So you go, you eat some awful food, and before long you're back home and you find that not only has he mown the lawn, he has made you a batch of your favorite chocolate chunk cookies.
True story!
Sorry ladies, he's off the market.
Now, these cookies that my wonderful husband made for me hold a special place in my heart. It's not for any sentimental reason, it's just because they're so chock-full of really good chocolate. Perhaps I haven't made it totally clear in this blog thus far, but I'm a total chocolate freak. Not for crappy mass-produced Hersey's, but for the good stuff - as is evidenced by my chocolate stash (yes, all of those striped packages are Scharffen Berger). I'm by no means exclusive in my smittenness - I give my love not to just one but to a select few.
So, unsurprisingly, cookies like this that use good chocolate and a lot of it are right up my alley. I made these cookies last week and gave them away and have been tormented by their memory since - why oh why was I feeling so altruistic???
I wasn't so tortured the first time I made them and they were part of the care package that I sent to Jeremy when he was studying for the Bar. He rated these as an A- and said "as plain old boring chocolate chip cookies go, they're superb."
A-, in my mind, is about right. I've already made them better than that batch - I originally used Lindt Swiss bittersweet and Ghirardelli milk but in my most recent batch, Scharffen Berger 70% bittersweet and 41% extra rich milk was the chocolate I chose. They're still not absolutely perfect and they could use a small improvement. To give these cookies just a tad more texture and complex chocolate flavor (but not more sweetness), I think they would benefit from some cacao nibs being stirred in.
It could be that those little nibs will be the key to finally getting that A.
Click here for the recipe for "Scharffen Berger chocolate chunk cookies" »