Month: November 2020

Savory Pies

Onions

Thanksgiving is definitely one of my favorite holidays. I love that it’s steeped in tradition, yet open to evolution. Say you feel strongly that you must have sweet potatoes or turkey or cornbread stuffing. That’s only natural. After all, those are highlights of the season. But hopefully your family (or friends) are flexible enough to indulge new recipes and twists on the classics. If that’s not the case, well, my sympathies.

I personally would not be happy making the same damn recipes year after year. Variety, as they say, is the spice of life. But I realize that for some, the constancy is absolutely sacred and reassuring. I get it. I do. I just don’t feel tradition-bound. Especially this year. In the midst of this pandemic, which has blown all normalcy to shreds, it seemed cheerier to forsake tradition altogether. No nostalgia permitted.

This year, the pandemic also meant skipping my decades-long T. Day celebration with friends. While that was a hard thing to forgo, I loved my get-together with my dad and stepmom. We not only put some twists on the classics, we also changed up how we went about eating: I suggested a day’s worth of small plates, punctuated by festive cocktails. It was great!

The idea of consuming a big Thanksgiving feast in one fell swoop has always seemed rather depressing to me. I mean, you cook for hours (or days) in advance, and all of that work disappears in a flash. It’s just not right. On the flip side, a parade of small plates stretches out the conversation and ups the anticipation. At the end, you still feel very full and slightly guilty about all of the calories, but it’s a lot more civilized.

I also found that the odds of having more leftovers increase when you switch to a small-plates style of dining. And this, of course, if very good news when it comes to options for a civilized lunch.

Today I had not one, but two slices of my leftover caramelized onion and squash tart. You guys! It is soooooo good! It’s a fairly labor-intensive recipe. But, if you can get into a meditative rhythm and embrace the sauteeing of onions and the endless chopping of squash and sweet potatoes, you’ll be OK.

Plus, it’s so worth it. This is a beautiful looking tart . I don’t own a springform tart pan, so I just used a glass pie pan. But, I want to make it again with the tart pan. There’s no doubt that the right equipment would make the presentation even more beautiful.

Like Butter

Sweets

I’m frustrated that my efforts to eat a proper lunch every day, and to write about this simple pleasure, have gone off the rails . I mean, what could be more basic than heating up some leftovers around midday, sitting down in a civilized fashion to enjoy the meal, and writing a few quick words?

Well, in the modern-day work paradigm, it’s the basic civilities that seem to go by the wayside. I vaguely recall an era (five years ago?) when it was generally understood that work meetings during the Noon-1 pm zone were to be avoided. The lunch hour was sacred. It was not only a time to nourish oneself, but to stretch one’s legs—and to step outside the office for a glimpse of the sky and the greater world at large.

Today, in the working remotely Zoom era, lunchtime meetings are unapologetically scheduled on the regular. Maybe the widespread belief is that you can always just turn off your video and mute yourself while cramming food in your mouth? The excuse (which is no longer even offered) is that it is “the only time when everyone is available.” No duh! Why? Because it’s lunch time. Sigh.

No matter how exasperating, I see little hope of dissuading this terrible new trend. The only “solution” is accepting the situation and shifting one’s lunch time accordingly. Sometimes lunch might have to be at 10:30. Other days at 4 pm. Just go with it workers! Do you feel me? You’re lucky to be employed. Be grateful.

Oh, and another thing: your window to eat lunch might only be five or ten minutes, so you’ll need to have a lot of things that reheat quickly, or maybe don’t need any heat at all. And maybe broaden your definition of what constitutes lunch entirely. For example, have you considered cookies? Cookies, in certain situations, can be almost as good (or better) than a power bar. Case in point: the oatmeal cookie!

Aside from being absolutely delicious, the oatmeal cookie may offer a heavy dose of emotional comfort. That is certainly true for me. No cookie (or food, really) more vividly recalls my grandmother Margaret’s limitless love and affection than an oatmeal cookie. She adored oatmeal cookies and made sure that there was always a ready supply.

So, if I’m ever feeling blue, or just craving a treat, it’s no surprise that making some oatmeal cookies is one of the first things that comes to mind. Just the scent of cinnamon, vanilla and brown sugar filling my kitchen as I make the dough brings her presence to life. I can still conjure the feeling of my cheek snuggling against her soft cotton dresses when I was a little girl. The best all-encompassing feeling of pure love in all of this world!

I’m not entirely sure what recipe my grandmother used, or if she even used a recipe—some members of my family swear it came from the back of the iconic Quaker Oatmeal box. That sounds right to me. I can easily picture her starting with that and modifying it as she saw fit, meaning extra raisins and nuts, and maybe a heavy hand with the brown sugar, too.

Given that there’s not a signature oatmeal cookie recipe in my family history, I feel no guilt in saying that I have found a recipe (or maybe just a methodology) that is even better than my grandmother’s. If you really, truly want to make the world’s most heavenly cookies then you need look no further than Alice Medrich’s Cookies and Brownies. Seriously people!

This is the cookie book that will change your cookie-making game. What’s Medrich’s big secret? Melted butter! Almost every one of her recipes advises melting your butter before adding it to the dry ingredients. And having made nearly every recipe in her book more than once, I can testify to their deliciousness.

Melting the butter versus creaming room-temperature butter into dry ingredients yields thin cookies with a chewy center and crunchy edges. In my view, that’s cookie perfection.

However, the perfection of Alice Medrich’s cookies in no way undermines my grandmother’s most powerful ingredient: her unconditional love. The memory of making cookies in her warm, cozy kitchen fills me with joy.

Her love is inextricably linked with oatmeal cookies whether I’m using her recipe or not. And it’s why oatmeal cookies are the ultimate comfort food for me during these sometimes lonely, sad and exhausting times of remote overworking from home during the Age of Covid.

So if you have a cookie craving, or like me, you’re short on time for a proper lunch, or just feeling a bit down, order a copy of Medrich’s book and give her oatmeal cookie recipe a try. Having a batch (or two) at the ready is the ultimate defense.

That’s Fresh

Grains

Today’s lunch was simple, but satisfying. And, per usual—a spontaneous repurposing of leftovers. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: farro is fantastic. I always make it in big batches since it takes forever to cook and it keeps really well for at least a couple of weeks.

It gets a little dry hanging out in the fridge, so when I reheat a bowl’s worth in a little saucepan, I perk it up with a quarter cup of bone broth on high heat. The liquid gets absorbed quickly, and it tastes great.

I had some leftover green beans, too. I quickly pan-fried them in some spicy oil and tossed them in with the farro. Topped off with a generous handful of parmesan and a squeeze of lemon juice, plus salt and pepper. Boom! A totally fresh taste from some not-super-fresh leftovers.

It’s a good thing that I (sort of) enjoy the challenge of sprucing up days-old food because I’ve been too tired and too busy with work to leave my house for quite awhile. I mean, I’ve stepped outside to take out the garbage and gather the mail, but I’m not sure that counts! Living in the country as I do, going to the grocery story is a pretty major journey. So in busy times, I tend to put it off.

While I have more than enough food to last me for a good long time, I’m definitely running low on some of my favorite pantry items and I used the last of my fresh produce tonight when I made roasted carrots and baked potatoes. (Spoiler alert: You’ll see them featured in tomorrow’s lunch.)

I cannot wait to make a trip to the produce stand, and if the stars are truly aligned, to one of my favorite local area farms. Roasted fresh vegetables are just the best, and in my view, unsurpassed in their simplicity and deliciousness. So I’ll look forward to having a new supply soon. In the meantime, my leftovers are pretty darn good.

Pesto, the Platonic Ideal

Herbs

This summer I bought three pounds of basil from Blanchard Mountain Farm with the goal of making a big batch of pesto to freeze and enjoy in the dark and foreboding days of winter. Boy am I glad I did!

The hilarious thing is that it’s not even officially winter, yet I’m almost out of my pesto. So much for saving it for gloomy times! But I can’t help it! It’s just so damn good. And really, very evocative.

When I eat a bowl of pesto pasta it’s like I can time travel. I can go back to that wonderful summer vibe with the sun on my face and the scent of basil filling my nose—and my heart. It’s a really, truly joyful fragrance.

The day I picked up the basil, I was a bit surprised (shocked!) when I saw just how much three pounds of basil actually is in terms of volume. The stuff is light, so the number of bags required to carry it away were many. At the time it seemed like an overwhelming amount. But in retrospect, I should have gotten 12 pounds or more and had an all-day pesto-making marathon. It would have been awesome. I’ll do that next summer for sure.

Another thing I remember about getting the basil was how amazing my car smelled on the way home from the farm. I can still conjure the scent of basil in my mind and the way it makes me feel. If I ever get back into perfume-making, I’m going to experiment with this herb. It’s a heavenly scent. It has a calming effect, like lavender. In the meantime, while I wait for summer to come around again, here’s a perfume with basil notes to try.

I just looked up the medicinal properties of basil. I’ve always thought of it as a plant with a holy and healing lineage, and indeed that seems to be the case. Basil helps with fatigue, inflammation, depression and anxiety. I think my brain must have known that I needed basil and induced a craving.

I don’t have any scientific proof, although some may exist, but I do really believe that we crave certain foods for a reason. I’m not talking about cravings for Cherry Garcia or frozen pizza. Although indulging the desire for those foods can certainly be a lot of fun. No, I’m talking about the times when you get very specific yearning for mushrooms, or chicken soup, or garlic, or dark leafy green vegetables. It’s like your body just knows that you need certain nutrients—and you feel instantly better after eating them.

That’s how it was with me and my big bowl of pesto today. I was like: “Yeah, baby. That’s just what the doctor ordered.”

If you’ve read a few of my posts, you’re probably noticing that I’m not big on recipes and that most of what I write isn’t super directive. It’s more like: I ate this thing for lunch today and here’s what it made me think of. I mean, you can research your own pesto recipe. It requires all of five ingredients and a blender.

One thing I will say, though. I think pesto can get a little too oily. I like my pesto on the drier, grainer side. So, whatever recipe you dig up, go light on the oil. You can always add more. Also: pesto freezes really well. So make a bunch and enjoy it throughout the year.

Know When to Fold ‘Em

Tacos

TGIF people! (I never, ever thought I’d be someone who’d use that expression—but what I’m starting to realize is that it’s probably best to never say “never.”

Things change. In fact, change is the only constant. And I’ve never been more aware of that fact than in the here-and-now.

Another thing I never realized is how much I like Kenny Rogers. But, I was just sitting here, staring at the photo of the truly delicious soft tacos that I made for lunch when the words to The Gambler popped into my head.

The neural connections between one thing (a folded soft corn tortilla) and another thing (a song about when to quit a metaphorical poker game) are just one of the mysterious aspects about our brains. How do images from the present and the past connect in such a spontaneous and often surprising way? I don’t know. But I sure do enjoy the randomness of it.

I enjoy it almost as much as I enjoyed my lunch. Today’s meal is a great example of using leftovers in a truly spontaneous way. Exhibit A: a big spoonful of my spicy pork sausage and sage from early in the week, augmented with pan-fried slices of apples with cinnamon and honey. What a delightful contrast.

The idea to make tacos came to me upon my discovery of a big pack of La Burrita corn tortillas way in the back of my refrigerator. When I spied them I was like, “oh yeah, those guys,” because they’ve been there for about a million years. But, they seemed OK, so I was game to give them a try.

One of the reasons they’ve been sitting around for a long time is because I’m way more of a flour tortilla type of lady. And, I’m always pretty mystified by corn tortillas, even though I occasionally buy them. My uncertainty is centered on how the hell to heat them up. From experience I can tell you that the microwave is not a good idea. Ditto on wrapping them in foil and letting them sit in the oven. I’ve also had them steamed in restaurants, but they alway seem a bit floppy and sad.

So today, I was inspired to heat them up in a giant cast iron skillet with the perfect coating of fat from my weekend steak-cooking exploits. I turned the heat on high and them let fry. Dang. Why didn’t I do this before? The results were outstanding. The tortillas were soft-yet-browned-and-crunchy.

I definitely knew when to fold ’em.

The fried tortillas were the perfect wrapper for my re-heated sausage and apples. Along with a nice dollop of sour cream and salsa. I think this might be my all-time favorite lunch yet. Now if anyone out there is a corn tortilla aficionado and a regular reader of Bon Appetit, you may be shaking your head. Because after making this lunch, I read the definitive guide to heating a corn tortilla and it explicitly states that you should NOT fry a corn tortilla.

Well, what can I say? I did. And I’m the better for it. But, you be the judge.