Viking Sunday Dinner

Ginger-almond biscotti

I made these a few weeks ago for a VSD evening with Dave, Chrissy and Sean.  They are well suited to a glass or two of scotch.

• 3/4 cup whole raw almonds
• 1/2 cupcrystallized ginger
• 1 cup flour
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 large egg
• 1 large egg white
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Pre-heat the oven to 300 degrees.

Toast almonds in a baking pan in the oven for about ten minutes, until they darken slightly, then chop them roughly.  Chop the crystallized ginger, too - but a little more finely. 

Sift together the flour, sugar, ground ginger, salt and baking soda and set aside.

Get out your mixer and beat together the egg, egg white and vanilla.  On low speed, stir in the flour mixture, then the almonds and crystallized ginger.  This is going to be VERY STICKY.

Smush the dough into a rough loaf shape on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper - you'll find this goes easiest if your hands are wet.  Bake for about 45 minutes until pale golden, then turn onto a wire rack.

After the loaf has cooled for ten minutes, slide it onto a cutting board,and using a serrated knife, cut into 1/4 inch slices.  Arrange these on the baking sheet, and then slap them back in the oven for another 20 minutes, or until crispy.  Let them cool on a rack and consume ferociously.  They will keep in an airtight container for up to two weeks - but I would be shocked if they lasted that long.

Cornish game hens - autumnal

New Englanders wax positively poetic in the fall. Inevitably I will get an e-mail from my generally rather reserved dad talking about the crisp leaves underfoot, the crack of the bat in the playoffs, the gloss of late afternoon sun on the Charles - and that's not even getting started on the food, which makes us behave particularly out of character - like Frosty Beacon Hill matrons in their ancient LL Bean boots that start smiling at you over the racks of squash at the grocery.  

My particular fall poison is one-pot dinners, particularly those that allow us to make use of another fall treasure - game birds.

Make this for a quiet evening dinner for two, after a day of raking leaves.

• Two cornish game hens
• Two slices bacon
• One bulb fennel
• One cup Lillet or other sweet wine
• Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. 

Rub the birds with olive oil, and salt and pepper generously.  Chop fennel into chunky slices (about the size of three matchsticks tied together).

Cut the bacon into small 1/2 inch bits (lardon!) and toss into a large lidded cast iron pan (hello, Hellbelly) over medium low heat.  Cook until slightly crisp and glistening, then brown the hens on all sides in the bacon fat, until you have a nice golden crust on all sides.  Pull birds aside and dump in the fennel, and saute briefly (about 3 minutes).  Settle the game hens gently on top of the bed of fennel, then dump in a nice cup of Lillet or sweet wine.  Clap the lid on and stick the whole shebang in the oven.  Leave totally alone for 45 minutes while you watch an episode of, say, Freaks and Geeks.

To serve, I recommend settling the birdies on top of slices of thick, toasted country bread on a deep plate (one bird per person).  Put the pan with the juices over medium-high heat and simmer until slightly thickened and reduced.  Adjust seasoning as needed with salt and pepper, then pour over the hens.

Luscious with a not-too-buttery chardonnay and a frisse salad to follow, to mop up the last bits of juices.

Lemon cupcakes

Meh.  I know cupcakes are a bit overly trendoid these days, but when you're going to a baby shower what the hell else are you supposed to make?  These are not-too-sweet, tender and luscious - makes 12. 

• Zest and juice of two lemons
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/3 cup plain yogurt
• 1 egg and 1 egg yolk
• 1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar

Prep your cupcake tins by greasing with canola oil spray and fitting with cupcake papers.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Zest and juice your lemons.  Depending on your grating device, you may need to mince the lemon zest; you want it to be about the consistency of sea salt.  Set the lemon zest to soak in the lemon juice, which will soften it; leave to sit for about 10 minutes while you get on with the rest of the batter.

Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and set aside.

In a standing mixer, cream the butter and sugar until it is pale and fluffy; this will take around 3 minutes on high-ish speed - just give it time - then reduce to medium and add the egg and yolk, one at a time, mixing until incorporated.  Scrape the sides of the bowl down and give it another quick whirl with the mixer - about 15 seconds.

In a separate bowl, combine the lemon juice and zest with the yogurt and vanilla.

Now, the delicate art of mixing cake batter.  You're going to add some of the flour mixture, then some of the lemon mixture, then some of the flour again, then the lemon - and end up with the flour - the important thing here is to keep the actual mixing to a minimum. 

At low speed, add about 1/3 of the flour mixture to the egg/butter/sugar mixture and mix until just incorporated - around 5 seconds.  Then add half the lemon mixture, and mix until just combined.  Repeat with the flour and the lemon again.  Then add the last bit of flour, scape down the sides of the bowl, and give the whole thing one last whirl to combine - about 15 seconds. 

Spoon the batter into your prepared cupcake pan - you may have a little left over to throw into a ramekin and bake for yourself, selfish thing.  Bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted.  Allow to cool in the pan for about an hour, then (carefully) tip out onto a rack and allow to cool completely before frosting.

Frosting options?  A simple glaze of lemon juice and confectioner's sugar would be great - as would a proper cream cheese frosting (just cream cheese, beaten with confectioner's sugar until thick and fluffy). 

* This recipe comes courtesy of Cook's Illustrated, who doubles my quantities here to bake it as a bundt cake - and you could do that very happily too with additional cooking time - say 45 or 50 minutes total. 

Whole wheat pancakes

I reject wholeheartedly the notion that pancakes are an indulgence - they're a weekend requirement, as long as they're these reasonably healthy whole-wheat versions.  Replacing white flour with wheat and butter with canola oil produces a pancake that equally helpful as gentle introduction to the day after a late night or as fuel for the day's projects.  Key here:  only flip once!

A note on whole wheat flour: it's wonderful to have around but it does tend to spoil somewhat rapidly.  Slide the whole bag into a zip-lock bag and stash it in the freezer, however, and it will keep fresh for months.

Donovan and I easily finish a platter of pancakes made with the quantities below for brunch, but if you're including other things on the menu (a nice apple-pork sausage would be good) this will stretch for 3 or 4 - and if not, it's easily doubled.

• 1 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• pinch salt
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 1 2/3 cups milk
• spray canola oil

Measure the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar into a large mixing bowl, stir and set aside.  Crack the eggs into a 2-cup measuring cup and beat with a wire whisk or a fork until smooth.  Add the 2 tablespoons of canola oil and fill to the 2-cup mark with milk (about 1 2/3 cups milk); gently whisk.

Add the milk mixture into the mixing bowl and whisk until fully incorporated.

Prepare a large frying pan by spraying with canola oil and setting it over medium high heat.  When a drop of water sizzles when dropped on the surface, it's ready to go.  Scoop - using your flour measuring cup - about a half-cup of batter onto the surface.   Let it sit for a couple of minutes and WATCH it.  When it starts to look less-than-shiny around the edges, and some bubbles appear on the surface, it's ready to flip over.  Flip and let it cook for about another minute, then yank off and serve.  Lots of people swear you have to have pancakes fresh off the griddle - and that is nice - but I find these hold up pretty well in a warmed oven that you've turned off if you're making lots.

I love these best with some grade-B maple syrup (darker, thicker and generally more flavorful than the grade A light amber stuff).  My in-laws also love this with Roger's Golden Syrup, which is wicked sweet and thick cane syrup from Canada - but put high fructose corn syrup anywhere near these babies, and you and I will have words.

Variations (more autumnal in spirit):  add a half-can of pureed pumpkin and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg to the batter, or a sweet potato that's been steamed up tender and mashed in the blender.

The bookshelf

Pathetic as this is to admit for someone who's hoping to drive a lot of traffic to her site, I don't use the internet all that much for cooking.  When presented with a particular culinary quandry (such as last week's: how best to grill a 5 1/2 pound red snapper), I do like to turn to the internets (and its many tubes) but somehow I don't find the internet as generally inspirational as I do a really good cookbook. 

For a while after we moved into our house, our cookbooks had no home in our new kitchen and perched rather perilously on the corner of the kitchen counter - and while this was not a great time for home organization, I think Donovan would agree that it was a particularly golden period in my cooking, where I was almost constantly reading, re-reading and reviewing the contents of my stack.

Now better organized, but no less inspirational, they are as follows:

• Appetite, by Nigel Slater.  Donovan finds Nigel's rather slap-dash ingredient lists infuriating, but I think he's got a intriuging approach to home cooking; the book really is about learning to listen to your senses in the kitchen and, especially, at the market.  Also, the food photography is possibly the wierdest, and therefore awesomest, I have ever seen in a cookbook.  If most food photography is Playboy Magazine, Appetite's is underground hardcore.
• How to Be a Domestic Goddess, by Nigella Lawson.  Given, right?  But Nigella is so chatty, so self-depricating, and so constistantly right on with her recipes, I almost never bake without her.  Her sugar cookie recipe alone is worth the price of admission.
• The Silver Palate Good Times Cook Book, by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins.  "Pesto is the quiche of the eighties."  Word up - and this cookbook is total eighties, but I love it.  It has the recipes that my mom was crazed for when I was in my tween years - lots of sugary/savory, big flavors, and a certain preciousness that was very right for the time.  It's also a photography-free cookbook - nothing but sketches - which is ridiculously charming.
• The New Cook, by Donna Hay.  From what I understand, Donna Hey is like a religion in her native Australia.  Very clean and crisp recipes.
• Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook.  I read Kitchen Confidential first, and was in Bourdain's pocket from there out.  The cookbook is, as can be expected, dictatorial, technique-heavy, and classically French - but with lots of cursing, drinking, and an odd Simpson's reference.  His particular style is not for everyone, and the complexity of some of the recipes makes this really more restaurant cooking than home cooking - but he encouraged me to try making moules, and that's enough to earn him a place of honor forever.
• Home Cooking, by Silvana Franco.  The Italian diaspora in Britain really knows their stuff.  This is a lovely, bright, charming cookbook with a cheerful mix of Continental flavors.
• Many Friends Cooking.  This is the UNICEF cookbook for kids that I had when I was a little girl... and the simplified international recipes aren't brilliant, but the illustrations are absolutely amazing.  Each one features an element of the recipe, and an element of the country of origin - for example, a group of Pakistani on horseback, one brandishing a frying pan, to illustrate deram fiti, or wheat sprout pancakes.  I still use the Snickerdoodle recipe.
• I Like You, by Amy Sedaris.  Ms. Sedaris would probably come after me with knives if I suggested that this wasn't a "real" cookbook, and it's not like it isn't packed with recipes, suggestions, and ideas for entertaining - it is a highly useful book in many ways.  That said, I take I Like You mostly as a brilliant reminder that entertaining has to be personal - a reflection of who you are, not someone else's idea of what makes a dinner party.  And if that means you're inviting lumberjacks for lunch, or making up a big mess of chicken wings for some alcoholics... so be it.

Salad and eggs

One of my favorite things to eat during the day, either as a mildly hungover brunch on the weekend, or as a luxurious midday meal when I'm working from home, is a green salad with a fried egg on top. 

The most basic version is a green arugula salad, lightly dressed with olive oil and lemon juice, with a runny-bellied egg perched right on top and sprinkled with sea salt.  The egg yolk drips down through the bitter green leaves, wilting them and enriching them: absolute bliss.

A slightly more textural and version is pictured above and was an experiment one sunny Tuesday that I will definitely repeat.  A few stalks of celery were sliced down into thin crescents and tossed with fresh peas briefly blanched using the teakettle technique; I added lemon juice, honey, and olive oil and sprinkled the whole operation with fresh chopped parsley, sea salt and pepper.

Homemade croutons emerged from a stale loaf of ciabatta bread cut into one-inch cubes and sauteed in a saucepan with a few tablespoons of oil until crisp and brown; drain these on paper towels.

Pile the celery and pea salad on a plate, and top with croutons.  In a small fry-pan, bring a teaspoon of olive oil to shimmer until a drop of water hisses on contact.  Carefully break an egg into the pan, taking care to keep the yolk intact.  Cook over medium heat until the white is mostly solidified and carefully tip onto the pile of salad and croutons.  Sprinkle with salt and a few extra bits of parsley.

Olive oil pound cake

This is an exceptionally strange pound cake made with olive oil and pepper, where the recipe makes it sound a lot weirder than it tastes. 

It's delicious on its own, but we loved it for a Fourth of July dinner last weekend with a few dollops of homemade lemon curd.  We had some toasted for breakfast the next day with a smear of strawberry jam.

You want a really delicious, fruity olive oil for this recipe - and don't be stingy with the pepper.

I modified it from Bittersweet, by Alice Medrich; she makes hers as a marble cake, but I like it better as a simple pound cake. 

• 3 cups white flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh fine-ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 5 eggs
• 1 cup milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and oil and flour a Bundt cake pan. 

Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt in a mixing bowl and set aside.

In a large mixer bowl, beat together the sugar, the olive oil, the pepper and the vanilla extract until smooth and creamy.  Add the eggs, one at a time, then beat the mixture until pale and creamy, about 3 minutes.

Stop the mixer and toss in about a third of the flour mixture, then mix on low until just incorporated.  Add half the milk, and mix until just incorporated.  Add another third of the flour mixture, then repeat with the milk and final third of flour mixture.  You'll want to scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula between additions.

Pour into the prepared cake pan and bake until a cake tester comes out clean - about an hour and ten minutes.

Let the cake cool in the pan for about 20 minutes, then invert and gently work it out of the pan.

Grill-top flatbread

When we inherited a massive offset smoker this summer from our neighbors who moved to Boulder, I admit I had some reservations.  It had been sitting - no, lurking - in a dark corner, looking like a massive black iron steam engine, whipped out only on grand occasions when 8 hours of rib smoking were in order.  I was intimidated, a little.

However, when Donovan and I dug it out and installed it in a new place of honor, we discovered that it was actually a lot more functional than it looked - and could be used as a very servicable grill for projects both large and small.

One of the emerging favorite uses to which to put our new friend is grill-top flatbreads.  These are not quite pita, not quite foccacia - and have developed a cult following.   This makes 6 flatbreads, which 6 people will devour in record time.

• 1 packets of active dry yeast
• 1 cup warm water
• pinch of sugar
• 2 teaspoons sea salt
• 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
• extra virgin olive oil (so much olive oil)
• 2 cups white flour

This is a nice place to use your mixer, if you have one with a dough hook.  In a large mixer bowl, disolve the yeast in the warm water with the pinch of sugar.  Let it sit for about 5 minutes until you see some foaming action!

Stir in the salt, a few good glugs of olive oil and the 1/2 cup of whole wheat flour.  Things will be pretty gooey at this point.   Switch to your dough hook and slowly start adding the 2 cups of white flour, about a half-cup at a time.  Knead at medium speed until the bundle of dough is smooth and elastic.

If you don't have a mixer, just use a big wooden spoon to stir in the white flour until it gets a bit stiff, then tip it out onto a well-floured board and knead by hand, adding the remaining flour, until smooth.

Plop the ball of dough into a well-oiled bowl (more olive oil), cover with plastic wrap and let it sit for at least an hour until it has doubled in size.

30 minutes or so before you're ready to eat, prep the flatbreads.  Grab a tray or plate and some wax paper; you're going to roll out the individual flatbreads, oil them, and lay them out, seperated by wax paper. Tip your oily dough back onto a board - it should be sufficiently oiled that you won't need more flour - and divide it into six equally-sized pieces.  Roll each piece out flat to about 8 inches - no need to get too fussy about the shape - then brush it with olive oil on both sides and lay it on a piece of waxpaper that you've set out.  Repeat with the remaining pieces; you can stack them with wax paper between, just remember to oil them on both sides.

OK, grill time.  I'm assuming you have a hot grill prepared, and have already cleared it of its other recipes.  I like to cook these after I've finished cooking whatever meats we're eating for dinner (they need to rest after all!) and while people are sitting salivating waiting for Donovan to give the word.   Carefully peel the little slabs of dough off their pieces of wax paper and lay them reasonably neatly on the grill over the hot coals (or gas if that's how you roll).  They will cook quickly - maybe 1 minute per side.   Keep an eye on them for charring and flip them with tongs as soon as they start to brown. 

As soon as the flatbreads are browned and slightly puffy on both sides, yank them off the grill and give them a last brush with some olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt before you put them on the table for people to tear into with their bare hands.

If you want to get really snazzy, you can brush them with olive oil in which you've allowed a crushed clove of garlic and a few snips of fresh rosemary to marinate for a few hours.

You could also try making grill-top pizza this way, though I haven't tried that yet.  I may give it a shot this weekend - will keep you posted.

Vegetable extremes!

My favorite ways to cook vegetables are miles away from one another.  The first involves the very gentlest of cooking – so much so that you’re not even doing it over the stove – the second, roasting the holy hell out of them.  In either case, this is a way to make vegetables that are robust enough to complete the meal when paired with a nice piece of meat, chicken or fish.

Technique 1: the teakettle technique

If you have an electric kettle, you’ll love this approach (if not, just use your stovetop kettle).  Fill it up full with water and bring it to a boil; meanwhile, trim your veggies, and rinse them in a metal colander.  When the kettle’s on the boil, set the metal colander in the sink and slowly and carefully pour the boiling water over your veggies.  When you’re out of boiling water, the veggies are done.  Blast them with cold water from the faucet for about a minute to stop the cooking.  You’re done. 

This is a green bean’s heaven.  Green beans cooked this way are tender and perfect; toss them with olive oil and salt, or a vinaigrette, or some plain old melted butter.  Snow peas also are amazing cooked like this, and respond well to a bit of sesame oil for seasoning.  Broccoli can be tossed with olive oil and lemon juice and served as a side – or any of these can be mixed into salad greens.

Technique 2:  the holy-hell roast

Big roasting pan, a few big glugs of oil (olive or canola) and some high heat – around 450 degrees.  The only variable is how long it will take for the vegetable in question to achieve the critical brown caramelized quality that makes this so tasty.  Brussels sprouts, halved lengthwise with a few cloves of chopped garlic, were made for this technique (don’t even consider boiling a Brussels sprout, no matter what your mother says) and will take about 20 minutes.  Broccoli, amazingly, also takes this method well, but will only take about 8 minutes.  Hard root vegetables like carrots and parsnips will be around 25 minutes.

Eat your veggies!

Pure onion genius

Stonewall Kitchen Roasted Garlic and Onion Jam is a $8 jar of culinary gold.  From the makers of a luxury foods line, available at your local gourmet market, one jar lasts for eons and brings sweet pungency to almost anything you can name.

My favorite cheat with this is using it to make an extraordinarily good vinaigrette, one that will basically demolish all salad resistance among the vegetable-challenged.  Drop a teaspoon of this lovely goo into a mixing bowl and add a couple of tablespoons of balsamic vinegar.  Leave to sit for a few minutes, then mush the jam with a fork until it’s nicely broken up in the vinegar.  Add about 2 tablespoons of vinegar for each person you’re serving and whisk together.  Slowly add an equal amount of extra virgin olive oil while whisking to emulsify.  Add salt and pepper to taste and toss with salad leaves – or use as a dip for crudités.  This is a particularly useful trick when you want a vinaigrette but don’t have any particularly good balsamic or olive oil – the savory jam steps even a semi-crappy fourth press oil to something quite tasty.

This jam is also great for a quick and oddly elegant hors d'œuvres; swipe water crackers with a smear of cream cheese, then dab on around a half-teaspoon of the onion jam. 

I find this really tasty and appropriate with a brandy and soda cocktail – one jigger of brandy over ice in an old-fashioned glass and top with soda water.

This jam is also amazing in pretty much any sandwich you can name.  I like it particularly with turkey, taleggio cheese and a few leaves of arugula, but it would be equally lyrical on a meatloaf sandwich.

Because it’s got lots of sugar, you want to use caution if you’re cooking with it or using it as a glaze on chicken for example; it will burn.

*Cheats are defined as foodstuffs that inject instantaneous flavor and style into a number of different recipes.