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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!
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.
With, oh, about four days to spare, I'm finally sitting down to plan my Thanksgiving dinner. This may seem odd because I put way more effort into planning dinner parties, but Thanksgiving? Eh! To me, Thanksgiving is more about delicious but traditional food that is simple by necessity (I don't know about you, but preparing a huge feast with only one oven is a daunting task), whereas when I'm having people over, well, to be honest, I'm generally cooking and plating to impress.
So this year, the first without Adult Supervision, I'll present a menu comprised partially of (eek!) untested recipes, without (gasp!) photos, before the event has actually occurred! Because, really, posting a Thanksgiving menu after the fact has questionable value.
I've decided to include breakfast on this menu because in my family we always overlook it. Me, I think it's important to start the day right and some savory breakfast scones would definitely qualify in that regard. Sometime in between-ish we'll enjoy a simple cheese course. When it comes time for dinner we'll have a turkey version of The Herbed Bird (be on the lookout for an awesome soup made with the leftovers), a bread (undecided between beer rolls, Parmesan whole wheat bread, or a roll version of the delectably light whole wheat buttermilk loaves I made last Sunday), roasted shallots with thyme and butternut squash, roasted pear salad with candied walnuts and blue cheese, mashed potatoes (garlic? Will I use russets, reds, or yukon golds?) and some sort of stuffing or cranberry sauce or relish that Cory will decide upon since I'm not much of a fan of those things. We will finish, of course, with pumpkin pie. The wine will be flowing all day, and it will be a glorious celebration of, well, gluttony.
Enticed? OF COURSE YOU ARE. Let's get cookin'!
Click here for the recipe for "The UNTESTED (gasp!) Thanksgiving menu!" »
This recipe is one that's been near and dear to me for nearly my whole life. My Mom originally clipped it out of a newspaper and it's grown up with me, going through different changes as I changed too.
Originally we made these cookies huge and round with little pumpkin stems and lavished icing and sprinkles upon them like festive, sweet, sticky jack-o-lanterns. Needless to say they never lasted long.
Years later as my brother and I grew out of the whole Halloween thing, these cookies stuck around (of course!) Now that having a good smooth icing canvas was no longer necessary, chocolate chips made their way into the cookies. They marred the formerly glasslike (well, for a cookie) surface but dude, it was chocolate. Yum! My parents would send these cookies to me in my care packages at college, and they brought back memories of childhood the way that only really good comfort foods can do.
Now that I'm all old, non-pumpkin-decorating, and out of college, it's up to me to keep this yummy tradition alive. I've made them every year over the last couple autumns, but this year I discovered my favorite addition: The Squash Quad of Power. As in the Turkey Trifecta, this blend of flavors complements the flavors it's enhancing so perfectly that I wouldn't ever consider excluding them. Unsurprisingly, when you add cinnamon, nutmeg, ground ginger, and cloves to the cookies, they're, well, uhm, wow.
They just might be the best cookie ever.
