The first time I recall eating a fried pie was almost 25 years ago when I was on a little fall jaunt, driving the backroads of middle Tennessee. Back then, Bill and I had a notion that we’d run a little rural B&B (complete with its own vegetable garden providing our produce for meals, a glorious flower garden as well.)
We’d take day-drives out of the city in different directions to explore. What were we looking for? A cool abandoned home in a bucolic setting that we could convert. Or an inn already in existence that we could buy. We’d stay overnight at some to get a feel for how people ran them. Romantic notions of our quaint B&B got dispelled once I realized
1) While running a catering business was a millstone, it was featherlike compared to running an inn. Weight of the world.
But here’s the thing. It’s good to follow these ideas out into the real world. How else are you going to know if it’s what you really want? And, there’s the adventure, always ripe with discovery–
–such as the fried hand pies.
It was on one of those off-the-beaten path drives when we came upon a lone cinderblock building with a walk-up window and a rough hand-painted sign: FRIED PIES $1
(I know; we fry a lot of things in the South.)
“Let’s stop,” I urged. Bill pulled over to the building’s side and I hopped out. I peered into the little window. “What kinds do you have?”
“Peach, apple, blackberry, chocolate, lemon,” recited a small measured voice from the dark interior. I handed the woman $5 and returned to the car with a sack containing one of each, individually packed in wax paper bags.
They were still warm.
We motored on until we came to an open rise on the road, overlooking a valley. There we parked. Pastures below were dry and browned. Colors of the season dotted the surrounding hills, with maples flaming orange and burgundy. Leaning against the car, we sampled the goods, sharing a thermos of coffee.
I thought the pies would be greasy, but they weren’t. I thought that the chocolate might be bizarre, but it was surprisingly delicious. Each one, a half-moon with crimped edges that fit right in your hand, had golden flaky crust. Grab and go! Bill loved the peach-filled crescent. The apple had a sandy dusting of cinnamon sugar and may have been my favorite.
I doubt that we could find that pie place again. In all likelihood, it no longer exists.
But, while I recipe-tested these gingery-apple treats this week for Edible Nashville magazine, I was reminded of those fall drives, and a younger version of me, chasing down a different dream.
FRIED APPLE HAND PIES adapted from Chef Matt Farley of The Southern
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 tablespoons light brown sugar
1/4 cup apple cider
2 Granny Smith apples, cored and diced
2 Gala or Honeycrisp apples, cored and diced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Melt butter in a skillet set on medium heat. Add sugar and cook for 5 minutes or until mixture starts to thicken. Add apple cider and cook for another minute.
Stir in the apples and ginger. Cook for 5 minutes. Add cinnamon and lemon juice and cook for 10 minutes or until apples are tender. Turn out on a sheet pan to cool.
2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup confectioners sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick ) unsalted butter (diced and cold)
2 large eggs
1 egg yolk
Place flour, sugar and salt into a food processor fitted with the steel (or pastry) blade and run for 15 seconds.
Add butter and pulse until butter is cut into pea-sized pieces. In a bowl whisk the eggs and the yolk and add to flour mixture. Pulse until clumps form.
Turn out onto a table and knead for 1 minute or until dough becomes smooth. Wrap tightly in plastic and chill for at least 1 hour, up to 24 hours.
Place the ingredients into a bowl and whisk vigorously until the egg whites and yolks are mixed together.
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon cinnamon
Place both into a bowl and mix until well-blended.
All-purpose flour, for dusting surface
Canola or vegetable oil, for frying pies.
Dust a clean surface with flour and roll out dough to about 1/8 inch thickness.
Cut into 4 inch rounds. Brush egg wash around the edges of the dough.
Place approximately 3 tablespoons of chilled apple filling on dough.
Fold over into half moon shapes. Using the tines of a fork seal all of the edges.
Cover and chill for 30 minutes.
Place vegetable oil in a pan about 1 inch deep. Heat to about 360 degrees or until flour immediately bubbles when sprinkled in oil. Lower the pies (a few at a time) into the hot oil (do not crowd!)
Cook pies about a minute and a half per side or until golden brown. Remove and place on paper towels. Toss in cinnamon sugar mixture and serve.
Makes 12 hand pies
Puttering in the garden. A dip in the pool. A day trip to the country. Stirring a pot of blackberry jam. Tomatoes, and more tomatoes, at every meal.
That’s the summer in my mind.
I’ve caught glimpses of that idyllic summer, even taken the occasional dip and day trip. For the most part, that slow carefree pace has eluded me. It’s not a complaint, don’t get me wrong. In the life of a food writer-educator-recovered caterer-grandmother, you gotta roll with whatever assignments come your way! From cooking camps to grandson care, life has been full.
But, here I am. And, I have hopes for a languid August. Beautiful produce is coming into the markets; look at that bounty. I haven’t stopped cooking. Here are a few summer dishes I’ve enjoyed.
ROASTED TOMATO-PESTO FRITTATA
Have your heard of Juliet tomatoes? They are a paste variety that look like mini-romas. I really like them for certain applications. Thick sauces. Salsa. Ketchup. And, they slow-roast into meaty ovals of sweetness.
I used them, in their slow roasted state, to make this frittata. The process started on the stovetop in my cast iron skillet, and finished in the oven.
A frittata is a fast and versatile recipe to have in your repertoire. You can find numerous variations here. I served this for an impromptu brunch for friends–it couldn’t have been simpler, and more satisfying.
1 tablespoon butter
1 cup cream (you may substitute half-and-half or whole milk if you prefer)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
1 pound roma or paste tomatoes, roasted
1/2 cup fresh basil pesto
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Coat a 9 inch cast iron (or oven safe) skillet with butter.
Beat eggs, cream, salt and black pepper together until no traces of yolk can be seen.
Place skillet over medium heat.
Pour in the egg mixture.
Add the tomatoes, dollops of pesto and shredded cheese. Cook on the stovetop for about 5-7 minutes.
Place the skillet into the oven to finish—about 15 minutes.
SPICY SUMMER-YELLOW VEGETABLE SALAD
One of the teen cooking camps I taught at the food bank was all about “Street Eats.” We explored cuisines around the world, from the standpoint of what you’d buy from a street vendor, pushcart, food truck: some times the most delicious dishes ever! One day, we made Mexican fare—grilled fish tacos, pickled cabbage, churros dusted with cinnamon sugar, and elotes—those spectacular ears of grilled corn slathered with lime-and-chili spiked mayo.
We had a few extra charred ears which I brought home. They soon wound up in this salad that celebrates summer yellows: wax beans, sweet bell pepper, onion, sungold tomatoes and crookneck squash. I blanched the beans (fresh picked from a friend’s garden!) in water seasoned with garlic and bay leaf. I sauteed the peppers, onion and squash. I scraped the grilled and slathered kernels off the cob, and mixed the whole she-bang together. Finished with a scatter of sungolds, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime. Mercy. Summer in a bowl. It was so so good.
1/2 pound yellow wax beans, trimmed
1 clove garlic, sliced
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 yellow squash, cut into julienne strips
1 golden bell pepper, cut into julienne strips
1 small onion, sliced
2 ears of corn, cooked: grilled, oven roasted, boiled
1 cup sungold tomatoes, cut in half
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped cilantro
Elote Dressing (recipe below)
Fill a skillet with water and place over medium heat. Add the garlic, bay leaf and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil. Cook the wax beans ( a few at a time–do not crowd) until tender-crisp–about 4 minutes. Remove and let cool.
Empty the skillet, dry it, and place over medium heat. Add olive oil. Add the squash, peppers and onions. Saute for about 4-5 minutes. Remove from heat.
In a large bowl, place the wax beans and sauteed vegetables. Scrape the corn kernels into the bowl. Add the sungold tomatoes, cilantro, and Elote dressing. Toss well and serve.
1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 teaspoons chili powder
1/4-1/3 teaspoon cayenne
lime juice from 1 lime
pinch sea salt
1/2 cup grated cotija or parmesan cheese
Mix all of the ingredients together in a small bowl until well combined.
Makes a scant cup.
MANGO BLUEBERRY LIME YOGURT PARFAIT
What do you do when you have a ripe mango, a pint of blueberries, a container of plain Greek yogurt and a lime? This is the answer. Easy-Pretty-Tasty-Healthy.
This one is barely a recipe.
2 cups plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons of your favorite honey
1 lime—juice and zest
1 pint blueberries, rinsed and stemmed
1 ripe mango, peeled and sliced
Place the yogurt into a bowl. Add lime juice, zest and honey. Stir until well combined. Taste and adjust for sweetness, if desired.
Set up 4 glasses (or whatever serving vessels you’d prefer.) Place a dollop of yoghurt in the bottom of each. Follow with a handful of berries, a few slices of mango, and repeat the layering until the glass is full. Garnish with basil or mint leaves and serve.
Last month, I had the pleasure of sharing an event at Pegasus Bookstore in Berkeley California with Chef Tanya Holland. We’d not previously met, but quickly found our common threads, beyond each having authored a cookbook. We were both born in New York and have interests rooted in the cooking traditions of the South. We’re both members of Les Dames d’Escoffier, an international organization of professional women in the culinary arts. We are both keenly interested in the intersection of community and food.
You’ll learn that about her, once you visit her restaurant, Brown Sugar Kitchen. Located in a wedge of West Oakland, where 26th Street and Campbell intersect Mandela Parkway, her eatery has become a prime neighborhood gathering spot. A hospitable spirit pervades the open kitchen and dining room, where a diverse crowd sits down comfortably to plates of eggs and biscuits and bowls of shrimp and grits.
In 2008, it was considered a bold move to open BSK in this somewhat run-down industrial area. But when she found the pie-shaped building, Tanya had that immediate sense of “knowingness”—this was where she belonged. The chef created what she calls “an everyman restaurant,” mid-priced, to please a wide range of people. Drawing on her African-American heritage and her French culinary training, Tanya serves her interpretation of Soul Food, prepared with classic techniques, updated for modern tastes.
The restaurant took off, initially as a destination. It wasn’t long before other businesses and residences followed suit, furthering the revitalization. West Oakland is becoming a thriving community, and Tanya Holland has become recognized for instigating its renaissance.
The cornmeal waffle is indeed her signature dish. She was inspired by Marion Cunningham’s yeasted waffle. By adding cornmeal to the batter, she’s given it a southern spin, and made it her own. I had to order it. Having eaten many versions of chicken-and-waffles, I was anxious to try hers.
Wonderful. The waffle was crisp yet airy, the little “grit” from the meal lending a delectable texture and corn taste. Her apple cider syrup, a welcome departure from the traditional maple, had a pleasant tang. It’s an homage to her grandmother, who always served fried apples for breakfast.
An aside: Righteous fried chicken too–well-seasoned, buttermilk-brined, and skillet-fried to golden.
Now, I’ve made it myself. We had company in town–and a waffle brunch was in order. Her recipe, which I share below, was easy to prepare. You do need to plan ahead–the yeasty batter requires a minimum of 4 hours resting time in the refrigerator. It’s best to mix it up before you go to bed. That way, it’ll be ready for you in the morning. And, be sure to put that batter into a large bowl. It gets quite bubbly even in the fridge as the yeast does its work!
I love the waffle’s versatility–sweet, savory, somewhere in-between. Different grains, different preparations. Visit Cooking Light’s clever array of other terrific waffles here.
YEASTED CORNMEAL WAFFLES
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
3/4 cup warm water
3 cups whole milk
1 cup cornmeal
2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 cup butter, melted and slightly cooled
vegetable oil for the waffle iron
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
In a small bowl, combine the yeast and water. Let stand until foamy, about 10 minutes.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk.
In another large bowl, mix the dry ingredients: cornmeal, flour, salt, and sugar together.
Add the yeast mixture to the egg-milk mixture. Whisk in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight—or at least for 4 hours.
Preheat the oven to 250 degrees.
Remove the waffle batter from the refrigerator and stir in the baking soda.
Heat the waffle iron, lightly brush with vegetable oil.
Ladle the batter and cook until golden–about 3 minutes.
Transfer the waffle to a rack and keep warm in the oven
Repeat with remaining batter, placing the waffles in a single layer on the rack until ready to serve.
Makes 8-10 waffles.
APPLE CIDER SYRUP
1 1/2 cups firmly packed brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
4 cups apple cider
2 cinnamon sticks
1/2 cup butter
In a large pot, combine the brown sugar, vinegar, cider, cinnamon, and butter. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer. Cook until the mixture is reduced to 1 1/2 cups. Discard the cinnamon.
Keep warm and serve. When cooled, refrigerate in a airtight container. Keeps for a month.
In a couple of days, Bill and I will be headed out west. I have a cookbook signing in Erie Colorado, hosted by my fabulous cousins on Saturday May the 9th. On the 13th, I’m honored to be presenting alongside Chef Tanya Holland, at Pegasus Books in Berkeley California. I’ve included invitations to both events in this post. If you’re in the area, and take the notion, please c’mon by. Great food, drink and conversation awaits!
We decided to make the long drive, since I’ll have books and knives and whisks and bowls in tow. We don’t mind–we usually relish a road trip and we haven’t made the westward journey in many years.
Ten years ago, Bill and I took our first out west adventure.
We traveled for most of a month, taking in parts of New Mexico–White Sands Desert, Santa Fe and Taos. We stayed with friends in Flagstaff Arizona, a great base of operations for exploring Walnut Canyon, Wupatki and Sunset Crater National Monuments, and the Grand Canyon–of course. We made side trips to Sedona and the curious mining-now-crafts town, Jerome.
We spent a lot of time barreling down the highways and by-ways. The western landscape is vast and open, rugged and wild, such a contrast from the lush green of the South. I recall stretches when we saw no one, anywhere, for miles.
We listened to audiobooks. Fitting–I brought along Kerouac’s On the Road. As we made our great loop west, all the way to San Francisco, returning on the northerly route through Wyoming and Colorado, we laughed, as our journey often paralleled that of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarity.
I had a cooler packed with bread, cheese, fruits and water. I also made this kick-ass trail mix, stored in ziplock bags, which powered us through the day. I toasted the almonds, pecans, and walnuts. I had abundant dried fruits: apricots, golden raisins, cranberries, and cherries. I added slivers of candied ginger for the occasional breathy spark. And the crowning touch—roasted and salted pumpkin seeds. That salt, interspersed throughout, made the mix exceptional.
I haven’t made it since—until now. Bill asked if we could have that good road trip mix again.
So, I made a big batch.
THE GOOD ROAD TRIP MIX
3 cups whole almonds, toasted
3 cups walnuts, toasted
3 cups pecans, toasted
2 cups cashews, toasted
3 cups chopped dried apricots
3 cups golden raisins
3 cups craisins
2 cups dried cherries
1 cup slivered candied ginger
1 cup roasted and salted pumpkin seeds
Note: Times vary for toasting different nuts. Here’s a great video from Cooking Light on how best to do this.
Make sure that the nuts are all cool before mixing them with the dried fruits.
Combine all of the ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Stir until the fruit and nuts are well-jumbled together. Put into ziplock bags and hit the road.
Makes 24 cups
I first encountered these engaging little confections in a now long-extinct bakery in Nashville called Bokay’s. Its owners were Hungarian, and they specialized in towering, elaborately decorated wedding cakes, the sort that made children stop at the display window and gape with longing.
It was a bakery of celebrations. In the springtime, I can remember finding braided egg bread challahs, and coffeecakes in a cunning Easter Bunny shape. In December, Black Forest cakes and stollen took the fore. And these twisted cream cheese pastries, Rugelach, filled variously with cinnamon sugar and walnuts, chocolate, apricot or raspberry jam.
Something betwixt a cookie and a pastry, they were delicious-bite sized treats.
The origin of the word is interesting: It is Yiddish for “twists” and resembles (and likely influenced) the Polish word for “horn.” In either case, these little crescents are rich, yet light and flaky, its dough layered with equal parts of butter and cream cheese.
The dough is easy to make, and not dissimiliar from these crescents that I made a few Decembers ago. What is especially appealing about them—-outside of their delicate size and their flaky, not-too-sweet taste—-is that they lend themselves to a spectacular array of fillings.
That dough makes one terrific pastry canvas.
Rummaging through my pantry, I found candied ginger, dried apricots, a handful of dried cherries, some dark cocoa, a small bag of chocolate chips, almonds. Ideas began taking shape.
Ginger-apricot-almond came together readily. I plumped the ginger and fruit in a simple syrup bath, and ground the toasted almonds.
Chocolate and cherry make ideal partners too. I wanted to add a little something different to that canvas. Rather than use the more traditional cinnamon, I thought it would be fun—and flavorful—to sprinkle Garam Masala spice blend.
Enjoy them this holiday season with a cup of coffee or pot of hot tea, shared with friends or family.
BASIC RUGELACH DOUGH
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 pound cream cheese, cut into pieces
1/2 pound chilled butter, cut into pieces
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg yolk
1 cup powdered sugar—for dusting and rolling pastry
Place the flour and salt into the bowl of a food processor. Briefly pulse.
Then add the cream cheese, butter, vanilla, and egg yolk.
Pulse and process until the ingredients are well incorporated and the dough comes together as a mass.
Remove the dough and form into 2 separate discs. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate until well-chilled—at least one hour, although overnight is better! The dough will keep refrigerated for 3 days, or may be frozen for up to 2 months. Thaw any frozen dough in the refrigerator before using.
CANDIED GINGER-APRICOT-ALMOND FILLING
1/4-1/3 cup candied ginger, cut into slivers
1 cup dried apricots, chopped
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups water
1/2 cup almonds
Place all of the ingredients into a medium saucepan set on low heat. Stir to dissolve the sugar. Increase the heat to medium, cover and allow the mixture to soften, thicken and simmer.
Cool and process to spreading consistency (using either an immersion blender or a food processor.)
Meanwhile, spread the almonds onto a baking sheet. Place into a preheated 375 degree oven and toast for 10-12 minutes. Cool and finely chop (or pulse in the processor to fine)
Sprinkle the work counter with powdered sugar. Remove one disc of dough from the refrigerator, unwrap, and roll out to a 15 inch circle. If the dough gets sticky, sprinkle more powdered sugar.
Place 1/2 cup glob of ginger-apricot mixture in the center of the dough circle. Using a spatula, spread the mixture evenly across the surface to the edges of the circle. Add more fruit mixture as needed.
Sprinkle the top of the fruit mixture with the finely chopped almonds.
Cut the dough into quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths, then thirty-seconds.
Roll each piece up from the exterior to the inner point and place onto a parchment-lined (or sil-pat lined baking sheet) Keep the pieces about an inch apart.
Bake for approximately 15 minutes in a pre-heated 375 degree oven, until the rugelaches are puffed and golden brown.
Allow to cool on a rack for 10 minutes before removing.
Makes 32 pieces.
1 1/2 tablespoons cocoa
1-2 teaspoons garam masala spice blend
4 ounces semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
1/2 cup dried dark sweet cherries
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar
Have all of these ingredients assembled separately for your mise-en-place.
Sprinkle the work counter with powdered sugar.
Unwrap one disc of dough and roll it out on the dusted surface into a 15″ circle.
Cover the top with cocoa, followed by
Cut into quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths, then thirty-seconds.
Roll each elongated triangle from the outside to the point and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Bake for approximately 15 minutes in a preheated 375 degree oven.
Makes 32 pieces
It’s been hard for me to take a restorative day, the kind where I drive out to my friend Maggie’s place in the country, hang out and cook. We have a tradition of selecting a recipe or technique that has piqued our interest, and embarking on a day-long kitchen adventure. A couple of weeks ago, I found the time, and we had a project: mozzarella.
Or so we thought. Mozzarella making is both easy, and not.
To begin, you must have some key ingredients that are likely not in your pantry: citric acid and vegetable rennet. Easily remedied: visit a cheesemaking shop, or order from an online source. I went to a local shop.
Critical, too, is organic milk that has NOT been ultra-pasteurized. Here’s where plans went awry. Maggie’s co-op, which sells raw milk (for pets, wink-wink) couldn’t fill her order. When Maggie texted me: “Can you bring the milk?” I didn’t pay attention to our book’s instructions that ultra-pasteurized would not work. (The curds won’t properly form and separate from the whey.) On my way to Maggies, I purchased a gallon of the “ultra” whole milk from the market.
Instead of heating milk, separating curds and stretching cheese, we sat on her front porch. We watched the territorial hummingbirds buzz one another away from the feeder. We chatted, mused and caught up. Over coffee, and toast spread with her homemade raspberry jelly, we plotted our next kitchen adventure. We would not be thwarted again.
At our following get-together, we made up for lost kitchen time. In addition to the homemade mozzarella project, we added Farinata and Onion Jam. An ambitious roster, no?
Today I am going to share with you two of the three. The mozzarella deserves its own post. And, while we were fairly successful, Maggie and I both agreed that making mozzarella is like baking bread or making pasta. They are all very basic, yet at the same time require practice. It is not so much the recipe, but the technique that makes the difference. In this case, it’s in heating the milk to the right temperature(s) straining the curds, getting the right feel for the heating and stretching the cheese. We did well–but believe we could do better.
However, the other recipes were simply done and absolutely delicious. And, I am confident in sharing them with you now.
The first is called Farinata. It is a rustic savory pancake originating from Liguria Italy, and uses 4 basic ingredients, 1 optional:
Garbanzo Bean (chickpea) Flour
I call it a deceptive recipe because of its simplicity. You cannot believe how tasty this is, from such spare and humble ingredients. There is not much of a technique either. You can whip up it in a snap, and bake in a hot-hot-hot oven–best in a cast-iron skillet.
The texture of the pancake is so pleasing–a golden toothsome crust with a custardlike interior. The chickpea flour lends a slightly sweet somewhat nutty taste. Use your best olive oil, as the farinata provides a fine canvas for it.
In places like Genoa, farinata is sold in pizzerias and bakeries, and is best eaten fresh and hot, with a generous grinding of black pepper over the top. Along the Cote d’Azur, it is known as Socca, and served as street food. The Italians will sometimes add fresh finely chopped rosemary to the farinata. The French often prefer a pinch of cumin.
Either way, it is a protein-rich dish that will please anyone, with any dietary preference. Gluten free-check. Vegan–check. Truly Delicious–check! And, you can add other vegetables, and make it a one-dish meal. Check out this example Asparagus, Tomato, and Onion Farinata on Cooking Light. Creative. Seasonal. Gorgeous.
The second is Onion Jam. We all love the caramel sweetness of onions long simmered in a skillet. This recipe carries it just a little further, with salt, turbinado sugar, white balsamic vinegar and a petite bouquet garni of fresh thyme and chives.
It’s one of those recipes that needs little tending–saute the onions; mix in the remaining ingredients; cover and cook on low. Yes, you’ll want to check on it occasionally, give a stir—make sure nothing is sticking. You could also process the onion jam in a hot water bath, just as you would fruit preserves.
Maggie and I relished a dollop of onion jam with the farinata. I can well imagine it with steak or on a grilled burger, or spread over a round of Camembert.
And, yes, I promise to post about the mozzarella. We did enjoy eating it. And we’ll make it again, only better. Soon!
FARINATA adapted from Food Wishes
1 1/2 cups Garbanzo Bean Flour (also called chickpea flour)
2 cups lukewarm water
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
5 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary
fresh ground black pepper
cast-iron skillet (or any oven-safe skillet)
Place flour into a medium bowl, and whisk in the water. When the batter is smooth, cover it with a plate and set it aside for about an hour, room temperature. After an hour, skim off any accumulated foam off of the top and discard.
Place your skillet into the oven and preheat to 500 degrees.
Whisk salt, 2 tablespoons olive oil and finely chopped rosemary into the batter. Let the batter sit for about 10 minutes.
When the oven is preheated and the skillet “smokin’ hot” add 3 tablespoons olive oil to the skillet. When that hot sheen forms over the pan, pour in the batter. Carefully place the skillet onto the middle rack in the center of the oven.
Bake for 25-30 minutes. The farinata will have a beautiful browned crust, and a yellow, almost custardlike center.
Serve immediately, cutting into wedges. Grind fresh black pepper over the top.
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large yellow or white onions (4 medium) coarsely chopped
1/4-1/2 cup turbinado sugar*
1/2 cup white balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1 bundle fresh thyme
*start with 1/4 cup if the onions are sweet. Increase to 1/2 cup if they are not.
Heat a large skillet on medium. Add the olive oil, then the chopped onions. Stir, to coat the onions. Cover and cook undisturbed for 10 minutes.
Uncover, and stir in the sugar, vinegar, and salt. Add the bundle of thyme. Cover and continue cooking for another 15 minutes.
Uncover and reduce heat to low. Continue cooking until the onions are dark caramel colored, very soft and jammy.
Makes a pint
Every element of this savory summer tart appeals to me.
The crust, made with whole wheat flour and olive oil, is rustic, free-form and forgiving.
Inside is a layer of ricotta, scented with lemon zest, nutmeg and thyme, generously spread across the base.
Coins of zucchini, (that ubiquitous summer garden veggie I am ever seeking another way to cook,) ring the top.
A drizzle of lemon agrumato imbues the squash with piquant citrus oil.
The pastry bakes beautifully, surrounding the creamy filling and vegetables with a rumpled golden crust.
And, whether sliced warm from the oven, or carved cool the next day, out of the fridge, it is delicious.
The recipe comes courtesy of Adri Barr Crocetti, whose Italian-centric blog will captivate you with its authentic preparations and stunning photography. When I first read her post about this crostata back in May, I knew that I would make it.
It was just a matter of time.
All summer, I’ve had most of the necessary ingredients in my pantry, and an abundance of those prolific squashes from my garden. The only thing I lacked was Lemon Agrumato–a special oil from Abruzzo where olives are stoneground with lemon.
Serendipity and luck–a friend gave me this bottle for my birthday.
While it is not a true agrumato–it doesn’t indicate that on the label–it does impart a pleasing citric essence to the otherwise peppery nature of the olive oil.
Adri tucks cubes of pancetta between the zucchini slices, and I can well imagine the luscious sweet-salty bites those bring to the tart.
But, I live with a vegetarian. So I strew Sun Gold cherry tomatoes–halved—over the top.
LEMONY ZUCCHINI RICOTTA CROSTATA adapted from Adri Barr Crocetti
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1/2 cup white whole wheat flour
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
¼ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup plus 2-3 tablespoons cool water
Place the flours, fine sea salt, baking powder, and nutmeg in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse twice to combine. In a measuring cup combine the olive oil and cool water. Begin to pour the liquid slowly into the processor as you gently pulse then run the machine.Remove the feed tube from the processor, and with the machine running, slowly add all the liquid. Process until the ingredients are well combined, and come together into a mass.Turn the dough out onto the counter, knead and form into a disc shape.Wrap in plastic and allow the dough to rest for at least 30 minutes.
Note: You may make this up ahead of time, refrigerating the plastic-wrapped dough overnight.
15-16 ounces whole milk ricotta, drained for at least 4 hours*
Extra virgin olive oil
2 bunches green onions, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon chopped thyme (or lemon thyme) leaves, plus whole sprigs to garnish
Grated zest of 1 large lemon
¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
Fine sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2-3 medium zucchini, sliced into 1/16-inch coins
Lemon Agrumato Extra Virgin Olive Oil
* To drain the ricotta: line a strainer with cheesecloth and place over a large bowl, or set a large sieve over a bowl. Put the ricotta into the sieve, cover and refrigerate to drain for at least 4 hours, or overnight.
Pour 1 tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil into a skillet set over medium heat. Add the sliced green onions and a pinch of fine sea salt. Sauté over medium heat until soft and translucent, about 3 minutes. Transfer the onions to a small bowl.
Place the drained ricotta (discarding the separated whey) to a medium bowl. Fold in the chopped thyme, lemon zest, ½ teaspoon of fine sea salt, ½ teaspoon of black pepper, and ground nutmeg.
1 large egg
1 tablespoon water
Beat the egg and water together in a small bowl. Set aside until time to brush onto the pastry.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. If you have a baking stone, place it into the oven on the middle rack.
Dust your counter with flour. Unwrap the dough disc and roll it into a 14″-15″ circle. Slide the rolled out dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Spread the ricotta mixture over the circle of rolled dough, spreading it evenly, leaving a 1-inch border. Sprinkle the sautéed green onions over the ricotta. Arrange the sliced zucchini over the ricotta, and top with slices of cherry tomatoes. Sprinkle with salt and black pepper. Finish with a drizzle with Lemon Olive Oil.
Fold the border over the zucchini, crimping it to make a circle. Brush the egg wash over the pleated border. (You will not use all of the egg wash.)
Slide the crostata and parchment from the baking sheet onto the preheated baking stone. (Or simply bake on parchment lined baking sheet. Bake until the crust is lightly browned and the zucchini is cooked, about 45 minutes. Allow to cool on a rack for 15 minutes.
Cut into wedges and serve.
It is officially Spring, and I feel certain that most of you feel the same as I do—Bring It!
This winter has felt long. Despite the emergence of hyacinths, daffodils, and profuse blooms on my weeping cherry tree, it still threatens brief yet chilling returns. Nonetheless, I am pressing on. Days grow longer, and will grow warmer.
For me, Spring is a time for ambitious things: cleaning the house, clearing the yard, churning the earth, planting. This opens the way for all fresh starts.
To this (ever-growing) list I have added a baking challenge.
I have long been curious about sourdough starter: how it works, how it needs to be maintained, what its possibilities are with breads, rolls, cakes and such. However, I’ve resisted baking with it in the past. On numerous occasions, friends have offered me a scoop of their starter, but I’ve said, “No, thanks.” It felt like too much of a commitment–one that I didn’t think I could honor over the long haul. If properly fed, stored, and used, sourdough starters can last for years and years.
My friends at Bella Nashville make remarkable wood-fired sourdough breads and pizzas using a starter that can be traced back a millennium to Napoli Italy. This one, which I purchased from King Arthur Flour, is the descendant of one that began in pre-Revolutionary War New England.
A couple of thoughts: because the starter relies on your flour, your water, your environment—your bread will taste different than someone’s in New England or Santa Fe New Mexico. It’s personal.
There’s also mounting evidence that bread baked with starter has greatly reduced gluten. It is more digestible than bread quickly made with commercial yeast and flour.
Since its arrival in my home 3 weeks ago, I’ve baked breads and sweet rolls using the starter four different times. With each batch, I’ve learned something new. And each time, the results have been better than the time before. Practice, practice.
But the upshot is this: Using the sourdough starter is fun and easy. I want to encourage you to not be daunted by the idea of it, as I was for so many years. There is not much actual labor involved in baking the bread.
Time and Forethought: that’s what is really takes.
Check out the ingredient list for the basic recipe. It is beautifully simple: flour, starter, water, salt. No additional yeast! It makes 2 loaves, (or one loaf and a batch of sweet rolls) and can be readily augmented with different flours, grains, seeds, herbs, dried fruits and the like. Maggie tells me that adding a cup of rolled oats to the dough imparts wonderful flavor—I can’t wait to do this.
For the first two tries, I used only unbleached bread flour. The following two, I made it with a combination of unbleached and whole wheat flours, and a little bit of sugar. A tablespoon of sugar seemed to balance yet enhance the tangy sour taste. The whole wheat brings more texture, interest, and nutrition to the dough, without being dense. The bread has a nice crisp crust and soft, yet sturdy structured crumb. And the flavor–Incredible!
Let’s just say that I won’t be buying bread for a while. And should I have too much bread in the house, there’s always sourdough croutons to consider, or stratas, bread puddings, and stuffings, like this one from Cooking Light with pears and sausage.
I also made sweet rolls. I rolled out the dough for one “plain” sourdough loaf into a flat rectangle and spread it with a cup of blueberry preserves.
Even better was the whole wheat combo dough, rolled out and filled with the much loved mixture of cinnamon, brown sugar, pecans, and golden raisins.
Make a loaf of bread and a breakfast treat at the same time.
EXTRA TANGY SOURDOUGH BREAD adapted from King Arthur Flour
1 cup “fed” sourdough starter
1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
2 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon sugar (optional)
5 cups unbleached bread flour (or in variation of 3 cups unbleached bread and 2 cups whole wheat)
The day before you plan to bake:
Pour 1 cup starter into a large mixing bowl. Stir in the lukewarm water and 3 cups bread flour. Beat vigorously. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside to rest at cool (68-70 degrees F is best) room temperature for 4 hours. Then refrigerate overnight, or 12 hours.
The morning of the day you plan to bake:
Mix the remaining 2 cups flour (here is where I augment, depending on my desired result. 2 cups whole wheat flour yields luscious results!) in a bowl with the salt and sugar. Remove the spongy overnight-proofed dough from the refrigerator. Combine this with the mixed dry ingredients and knead into a smooth soft dough. If you are using a stand mixer with a dough hook, mix for about 10 minutes. Place into a large lightly buttered (or oiled) bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let it rise for 5 hours. The dough will be almost doubled.
Divide the dough in half and shape into loaves. Place on a baking sheet, cover, and let rise for 2-3 hours. The loaves will double in size.
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Slash the tops of the loaves and bake for 30 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove and cool on a rack.
EXTRA TANGY SWEET ROLLS
For the Cinnamon-Pecan-Raisin Filling
1 cup pecan pieces
1/2 cup raw or brown sugar (such as Demerara or Turbinado)
1/2 cup raisins (I used golden raisins)
1 tablespoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons melted butter
Place pecans, brown sugar, raisins, and cinnamon into a small mixing bowl. Pour in the melted butter and mix well.
Make the Sweet Rolls
Divide the dough (this is after it has had its 5 hour rise) into two pieces. You may want to use one piece for a loaf of bread–shape it into a loaf, cover, and set aside for its second rise.
I did not flour the work counter first–the dough was pliable not sticky. You are welcome to lightly flour your work surface, if you prefer.Roll out the remaining piece into a rectangle.
Spread the cinnamon-pecan mixture over the rectangle and roll it up into a cylinder, jelly-roll fashion. Cut into rings about 1 inch thick and place into a buttered baking pan or dish. I used a 10 inch tart pan.
Cover and allow the rolls to rise in a warm place for 2-3 hours.
Bake in a preheated 400 degree oven for 20-25 minutes, until golden brown. Cool on a baking rack. Drizzle with glaze (recipe below) and serve.
For the Blueberry Filling
1 cup blueberry preserves
Liberally spread the filling across the surface of the rolled-out dough. Roll up the dough into a long cylinder. Cut into rings, about 1 inch thick and place into a buttered baking dish. I used a 10 inch tart pan.
Cover with plastic and allow the rolls to rise for 2 hours in a warm place.
Bake in a preheated 400 degree oven until golden brown–about 20 minutes. Place on a rack to cool and glaze, if you like.
Makes 16-18 rolls
1 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
a few tablespoons half-and-half
Place the powdered sugar, lemon juice and vanilla into a small mixing bowl. While stirring, add a few tablespoons of half-and-half until you reach a smooth pourable consistency.
Drizzle over the somewhat cooled rolls and serve.
A leftover shank of baked ham and looming potluck dinner: this was my dilemma, my quandary, my challenge last week.
Surely the two could intersect–one should be able to be used in some fashion to satisfy the need of other.
But, what to make?
Deviled Ham Salad? Big Ham Biscuits? A creamy ham and mac-cheese casserole?
None of those seemed very exciting.
What would you make? I asked a friend.
A shrug, and
What was I doing with a big leftover bone-in baked ham anyway,
was her response.
I would have to try another method.
Sometimes you have to plant the notion or request in your mind and let it go. Wait and see what might come up to inspire you.
It took about a day, but for whatever reason while on an errand driving across town, a pleasant memory from almost 10 years ago bubbled up:
I was with Bill and my daughter in Paris. We had strolled the Luxembourg Gardens early one morning and were ravenous. Our meander led us down a narrow street with a row of vendors—Look, Crepes!
We watched greedily as the creperie chef combed the batter over the special griddle, deftly flipping the great thin round when the edges became golden and crispy, then splashing it with melted citrus butter, a rapid fold and shower of powdered sugar, and Voila!
Madeleine got one with fresh bananas. Bill’s had egg and cheese. And mine….
There, it is called a complete–a buckwheat flour crepe filled with ham, gruyere, and egg. Absolutely luscious, and substantial enough to sate a powerful hunger.
My potluck plan was set in motion.
The versatility—and ease—-of crepes is what makes them so appealing. The batter can be whipped up in minutes. The impossibly thin pancakes can be swirled and flipped in a small skillet–and stacked until ready to fill. And the fillings?
All manner of savory and sweet.
With sweet crepes, I’ll put a little sugar into the batter. With savory crepes, a combination of flours–all-purpose and buckwheat is nice. I didn’t have any buckwheat flour, but today’s crepe batter uses buttermilk to give it distinctive tang.
I made the batter early in the morning. In the afternoon, I began The Cook. It didn’t take long to pour, swirl, and flip. The crepes were thin and elastic, yet golden. Filling them with ham, cheese, and spinach-artichoke was like assembly-line work–a nice rhythm or repetition.
I decided to make a mornay sauce to bake onto the crepes in the casserole dish. This would add an enriching element, while keeping the crepes moist in the oven.
For other splendid crepe ideas and recipes, check out Cooking Light’s page here:
Oh, and here’s Why I had that big leftover Ham.
The Cookbook Cover! We are now at the stage of shooting the images for the Third Thursday Community Potluck Cookbook.
On our first day, we (I say we, because I helped the team–photographer, food stylist, art director, editor—by making the dishes) shot the cover–a cool overhead of a potluck feast–along with 8 interiors. We have many more to go. I will keep you posted as the process unfolds—and I have something to show you.
BUTTERMILK CREPE BATTER
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup water
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter, melted
2 tablespoons melted butter combined with
1 tablespoon olive oil
You can make the batter in a blender or food processor. I have found that this is the simplest way to achieve that smooth-smooth mixture that resembles heavy cream. The batter also should be made up ahead of time and allowed to rest–at least an hour, and up to overnight, covered and refrigerated.
I used a 6″ stainless steel skillet—easy to handle. I like the small size of the crepes for filling and serving. I think you will, too.
Place the flour, eggs, buttermilk, water, and salt into the blender or processor. Mix until well-combined, scraping the sides and bottom of the bowl. Pour in melted and slightly cooled butter and continue to process. The mixture will be thinner than traditional pancake batter–but will coat the back of a spoon like cream. Cover and let the mixture rest for a minimum of an hour.
Heat the skillet on medium. Brush it with the butter-oil mixture. Pour approximately 2 tablespoons of batter into the skillet, tilting and swirling the skillet to move the batter as it covers the surface. In a minute, the edges of the crepe will become golden–time to flip. The other side cooks–browns–in half the time of the first side. Remove the crepe to a plate or platter, and continue the process.
You don’t need to brush the skillet with the butter-oil mixture each time—every 2-3 times works fine.
Makes 16-20 6″ crepes
1 tablespoon soft butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 lb. fresh spinach
2 cloves garlic, minced
8 ounces quartered artichoke hearts, chopped
pinch of salt and cayenne
1 lb. thinly sliced ham
1/4 cup coarse grain mustard
1 cup shredded parmesan
1 cup shredded gruyere
Coat a baking dish or casserole with butter.
Place a large skillet on medium heat. Add the olive oil. Then, mound the spinach into the skillet. Stir, as the leaves collapse. Sprinkle in the minced garlic pieces and cook for a minute. Add the artichoke hearts and stir-fry them into the spinach mixture. Season with a pinch or two of salt and cayenne. Remove from heat.
Lay the crepe rounds out onto the work counter in rows. Cover half of the crepe with slices of ham, dab of mustard, tablespoon or 2 of spianch-artichoke mixture, and a sprinkle of the cheeses. Beginning with the ham side, roll the crepes and place them into the casserole dish(es).
When you are ready to bake and serve them, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Pour the Gruyere Mornay sauce over the crepes. Sprinkle extra cheese, if you like, or dot the surface with strips of sundried tomatoes or sage leaves.
Place in the oven and bake until bubbly–25-30 minutes. Serve
GRUYERE MORNAY SAUCE
3 tablespoons butter
1 bunch green onions, chopped
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
2 cups shredded Gruyere
sundried tomatoes or fresh sage leaves (optional)
Place a 2 quart saucepan on medium heat. Melt the butter, then stir in the green onions, cooking to soften–about 1 minute. Stir in the flour, allowing it to coat the green onions, absorb the butter, and make a light roux. Stir constantly, and don’t let the flour brown.
Pour in the milk. Stir-stir-stir! Over the next 10 minutes, the mixture will thicken. When it comes to a simmer, stir in the cheese and remove from heat. Stir until the cheese is melted throughout and incorporated into the sauce. Season with salt and white pepper.
Food-stylist Teresa Blackburn at work on set at photographer Mark Boughton’s studio. At this time, we were working on placement of dishes to fit within the format of the book.
This does little justice to the final image that Mark captured–but gives a peek at the process.
Easter Sunday, circa 1967, pre-Easter Brunch at The Loveless Cafe, Nashville TN
That’s me, the tall one with the goofy yellow hat and cat-eye glasses. To my right is my sister Carole, the stormy-eyed tough kid seething in her frou-frou dress (I hate puffed sleeves !) My hand rests on top of baby brother Jim’s head, The Boy, clutching his musical Peter Rabbit (here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail….) To my far left is sweet sister Barbara, demurring, (See, I really like my Easter outfit.)
This Brownie camera shot, no doubt taken by my mom, never fails to make me laugh. And not just because of our dorky of-a-time dress, or the family dynamic the image so aptly captures. It reminds me that sometimes the roots of your vocation are not obvious, but they are there, if you know where to look.
In this case, you’d have to look in that long plastic basket purse I was carrying.
Because it held a bottle of maple syrup.
Well, not this particular bottle, but you get the idea.
You see, I was the ultimate picky eater, and I knew we were going to the Loveless Cafe for brunch. The only thing I wanted to eat—correction, would eat—at the Loveless was a stack of pancakes.
The problem, which I gleaned with horror from a previous visit, was that they served Karo with those pancakes. Ugh. The little pitcher was filled with corn syrup. My stack was ruined.
I was not to be thwarted this time. I ferreted a bottle of the prized maple out of the pantry and tucked it (despite the stickiness risk) into that mammoth purse, which I lugged into church and then to the tables of Loveless. Easter brunch was saved.
Pretty crafty, eh?
And while I grew up hearing and thinking that I was a pain and a hopeless food-hater, someone who lacked a refined palate, or any palate at all, I came to realize that the bottle of maple syrup tucked in my purse told a different story.
It gave a hint that maybe this girl who loved maple syrup knew more about food than she realized. I mean, wouldn’t we all prefer maple syrup over corn on pancakes?
I write this today with those of you in mind who are picky, or have picky eaters in your family. Don’t despair. Inside that person there could be a great cook or chef or lover of good food. It can take time for that to emerge.
Often the things we seem to most reject, are the very things we end up embracing.
Pickiness is just another step along the path.
Today’s recipe makes a simple but delicious bread pudding—sweetened with maple syrup—-but not too sweet. You could spark it with some cinnamon or nutmeg, or add more dried fruit. I kept it basic–maple and vanilla bean, with a handful of sultanas. I wanted the maple flavor to shine through.
Like all bread puddings, it’s a terrific way to use up stale bread. To me, It’s more of a breakfast bread pudding than a dessert, although it could go either way.
I served it warm with some yogurt and bananas (two other things that the long ago picky eater wouldn’t touch!) and an extra drizzle of maple over the top.
MAPLE VANILLA BEAN BREAD PUDDING
3 cups half-and-half
1/2 vanilla bean, scraped
1 cup maple syrup
1 cup heavy cream
1 stale baguette, cut into cubes
1 cup sultanas
soft butter, to coat baking dish
Pour half-and-half into a large saucepan. Add vanilla bean. Heat until small bubbles form along the edges, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and allow vanilla to infuse the half-and-half. Scrape the inside of the vanilla bean to get out all the vanilla paste. Stir in the maple syrup.
Place cubed bread into a large mixing bowl.
Pour vanilla-maple mixture over the cubes.
In a separate bowl, beat eggs and cream until well combined. Pour over the cubes.
Add the sultanas. Stir the mixture well.
Coat the bottom and sides of the baking dish with softened butter.
Spoon in bread pudding mixture. Allow it to rest and absorb for 30 minutes.
Bake in the center of a preheated 350 degree oven for 30 minutes. The bread pudding will become puffed and golden, and the custard will set.
Serve warm, with fresh fruit and yogurt, and, of course,
a pitcher of real maple syrup.