Monday Night

On Mondays, Brandon and the baby get home early. When I walk in, usually one or both of them is hungry, the dog is positively bouncing with joy, and last night's dessert plus this morning's breakfast dishes are stacked along the counter top. So after throwing a quick kiss to Bran, patting the dog, finding a snack for everyone, and scrubbing the cereal bowls, I start to cook. Life for us is a very frequent dance of homecomings, of settling ourselves into place. When I finally set the big steel pot steaming or sizzling on the stove-top, the quiet festivities of the evening can begin.

I try to find recipes that I can make in under an hour. It's essential for me to begin with a clean counter and sink--plenty of room to prep ingredients, work quickly, and keep tools organized. I feel much better when I know where my utensils are and when my mess is contained. A little ordered disorder is no problem at all.

Tonight, I tried a recipe from Cook's Illustrated: Lighter Fettuccine Alfredo. I just started using the Cooks Illustrated website and have found that their recipes offer lots of useful tips and new techniques that you can apply to other dishes as you tweak and refine them. I wouldn't have thought to add a little cornstarch to Alfredo, but my sauce was beautifully thick and smooth after I did. I wouldn't have thought to warm the serving bowls with some of the boiling pasta water to keep this very temperature sensitive dish at it's best on the table. I'm sure I'll use these tips again!

This recipe called for a little bit of grated whole nutmeg (see previous post) and a cup of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. It was worth every penny to get the real P-Regg. rather than the more affordable Americanized version--"parmesan." I don't always splurge on this, but for the Alfredo I did and would again. It adds the zing you need to balance out the cream.

I'll confess that Alfredo has not always been a favorite dish of mine, but I have been warming to it over the past two years. With some extra cheese grated on top, this recipe was delicious. Brandon wasn't sure about the nutmeg, which added some fullness to the flavor of the dish. "Woody" came to mind for me, but I suppose the obvious adjective is "nutty." Next time, I might substitute the nutmeg for a little garlic powder...

In the end, I'd say this Alfredo recipe is a good one to have in my pocket.


LIGHTER FETTUCCINE ALFREDO--Cooks Illustrated, March 22, 2007

This recipe was published in The Best Light Recipe.

INGREDIENTS

3/4	cup half-and-half
1/8	teaspoon fresh grated nutmeg
	Table salt
1	teaspoon cornstarch
9	ounces fresh fettuccine
2	ounces Parmigiano-Reggiano , grated fine (about 1 cup)
	Ground black pepper

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Bring 6 quarts water to a boil in a large pot. Using a ladle or heatproof measuring cup, fill four individual serving bowls with about 1/2 cup of the boiling water each; set the bowls aside to warm.

2. Meanwhile, bring 1/2 cup of the half-and-half, the nutmeg, and 1/4 teaspoon salt to a simmer in a 3- to 4-quart saucepan. Whisk the cornstarch and remaining 1/4 cup half-and-half together, then whisk it into the simmering mixture. Continue to simmer the sauce, whisking constantly, until it has thickened, about 1 minute. Cover and set the pot off the heat.

3. Stir 1 tablespoon salt and the pasta into the boiling water and cook, stirring constantly, until al dente, 1 to 2 minutes. Reserving 3/4 cup of the pasta cooking water, drain the pasta.
 
4. Return the half-and-half mixture to medium-low heat and whisk in 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking water. Slowly whisk in the Parmesan. Add the pasta and cook, coating the pasta evenly with the sauce, until the sauce has thickened slightly, about 1 minute. Season with pepper to taste. Working quickly, empty the serving bowls of water, divide the pasta among the bowls, and serve.

Salty/Sweet Tooth

I meant to make these salted brown butter crispy treats last weekend, but after the birthday cake they seemed a little much. However, I am so glad that I did not wait longer than one week to make this absolutely delightful twist on an old favorite. Brown butter and a dash of sea salt make these bars simply gourmet and in less than 10 minutes! The cleanup was easy too. Just soak your big pot for a while and the sticky marshmallow will dissolve right off.

We all munched these this afternoon, grateful for a sunny day after a week of cold rain. Rosie and I sat outside on a blanket afterwards, picking up autumn's fallen leaves and dropping them into a picnic basket. One by one we took them all out again, clapping in between. For us, plastic toys pale in comparison to the ones given from above.

Nanny's Pasta Fazool

I'm letting out one of Nanny's best kept secrets, her Pasta e Fagioli. It's pronunciation has morphed over the years of children and grandchildren into the endearing term, Pasta Fazool. If you love the rustic Italian flavors of parsley, garlic, potatoes, and white beans, you will love this. My dad always called it the soup of peasants, though I dare say it is worthy of lords.

My Nanny is 100% Italian. I would describe her as a romantic grandmother--beautiful, passionate, religious, generous, and exuberant. She always seems to be in love with something, whether it's a new pair of shoes, or a song, or an apricot pastry. She may not claim to be an artist, but she is one, and food is her medium. She treats each recipe as if it were a being of it's own, a creation outside of herself--like a writer and her novel. Nanny always calls food by its title, never saying, "I'm making meatballs," but, "I'm making The Meatballs."

At Christmas two years ago, she gave everyone in the family a cookbook, put together with Poppop's help, containing the family recipes that, if not written down, might otherwise be lost--the pizza fritas, the stuffed cabbage, the marinara sauce, the gnocchi...the Pasta Fazool. There are 70 of them, and I'll be sharing my personal favorites from time to time.

Everyone's pasta fazool will turn out a little differently. Brandon and I like ours a little thicker than most. The recipe calls for one potato. I add two. It calls for 1/4 parmesan cheese. I add a third. It calls for 1 cup of chopped parsley. I usually add a full bunch. Italian parsley is best. Look for the darkest, least wilted bunch. (If you're like me, wilted parsley is the bane of your weekly shopping trip.) Also, I use ditalini pasta, not ziti, but you can use either. This soup will be at its best a day after you make it.

A word of caution: The salt will make or break this recipe. Under salted it's good, but nothing like what you'll experience if this dish is salted just right. The salt will truly unlock the flavors. Over salted, it's just inedible.

Here's the recipe:

2 15 oz. cans Cannellini Beans---do not drain

1/2 c olive oil

6 large garlic cloves

1 c chopped parsley

1 1/2 c diced celery

1 c white wine

1 medium baking potato, cubed

1/2 lb ziti

water

salt, pepper, oregano, basil (fresh or dried)

1/4 c grated parmesan cheese

Put olive oil into a 6-qt. pot and bring to medium heat.

Add chopped garlic, cook until golden (about 1 min.)

Add parsley, saute 4 - 5 min. on low heat--do not burn.

Add celery and saute 3 - 4 min.

Add white wine, salt, pepper, oregano, basil.

Add 2 cups of water.

Add potato and simmer 15 - 20 min. until potato is tender.

Crush some of the potato with a fork against the side of the pot and stir.

Add the beans and scrape cans with a rubber spatula to get all of the juice.

With a fork, mash a few more pieces of potato and some beans to thicken the soup.

Add the parm. cheese and simmer 3 minutes more.

In a different pot filled with water and 1 tsp. salt, boil pasta.

To serve: place some pasta in a soup bowl and ladle the soup over it. Top each serving with parmesan cheese.

The book reads at the bottom of the page: "This is one of Poppop's favorites and is positively the best of all the pasta fagiolis he has ever tasted."

Birthday Boy, Birthday Cake

Brandon's birthday was Saturday, November 7. His signature birthday cake (to date) is the Better Homes and Gardens Yellow Cake iced with Martha Stewart's Ultimate Chocolate Icing. This yellow cake recipe is simple and very good for that classic birthday cake look, taste, and texture. I have never had this cake flop, except once when I added baking soda instead of baking powder. Lesson learned...

I love to build a layer cake. It's got a structure to be determined (I love to use square pans), then a tedious stacking process, and finally a color palate to choose and apply. It's your own little (or big) creation. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but it's always a learning process. This was my first time spreading the icing with an icing spatula. I HIGHLY recommend this tool. It helps you spread wide sweeps of icing.

The layer cake was a lot of work. I had to bake it, wash the baking dishes, dry it, wash the drying racks, make the chocolate icing, wash all icing bowls and tools, make the colored icing, design and ice the cake, and finally, wash the colored icing bowl and tools! But, even the copious amount of dishes I had to do cannot compare with the piles that Brandon washes sans machine each evening after my culinary escapades. So, I raise this cake to Brandon, a most patient, dedicated, and supportive husband who deserves so much more than I could ever give.

Two Sides Make a Whole

I must have Scotland on the mind because I made two recipes (see previous post for scones) in one weekend that reminded me of that fantastical, craggy place. While at St. Andrews, not only did I receive an introduction to scones, but also to pureed soups. Once again, my education began at Janetta's cafe (and ice cream shop!), where, as a server, my lunch was always complimentary. Each day, a three-foot pot sat on the stove around the corner in a tiny cook's kitchen simmering with a different, usually pureed, soup. The soups had gourmet flavors like curried carrot, apple and parsnip, winter vegetable, pear and celery root, tomato basil, honeyed carrot, yellow split pea, leek and potato...I couldn't choose a favorite. Each one was delicious and when paired with a buttered roll--sublime.

I have been trying to recreate those soups ever since. I don't feel that I have succeeded yet, and perhaps I never will. I'm sure a part of their deliciousness is tied to the very cobblestones of South Street.

When I saw this recipe for Creamy Carrot and Sweet Potato Soup in Cooking Light (can you tell I have a subscription?)--a spiced purreed soup that looked similar to my Scottish favorites--I had to try it. The recipe was part of a section of sides and starters. I picked out the Candied Walnut, Pear, and Leafy Green Salad to go with the soup, warmed some ciabatta bread and called it dinner.

The soup needed a little extra salt to bring out the festive flavors of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sweet potato, but it was well worth the tinkering. The recipe requires you to brown the butter after adding it to the pan--I can only compliment the original chef on this tactic. Browned butter is one of the great delights of my life--if you haven't tried it, you must! (I'm sure a future blog post will be devoted purely to browned butter.) I used an immersion blender to puree it, which worked beautifully and cut down on clean up. The salad was delicious as well, the best thing being the dressing. I ended up using brown balsamic vinegar because that was all I had, but it was still great! This dressing could work for other salads--very handy to have in your repertoire. To cut down on cost, I used only romaine lettuce and cut the ingredients in half to serve just the two of us.

So we felt quite gourmet last night with our steaming bowls of soup and salad plates decorated with glazed nuts and greens. The eating and tasting gave us something new to do. What a way to dress up an average Sunday evening!

A Good Scone is Hard to Find

I spent my junior year of college away in St. Andrews, Scotland, where I was introduced to "real" scones. Unlike most of my friends there, I spent my weekends working in a small, family-owned cafe called Janetta's. The cook/baker extraordinaire, Rona, made fresh scones every single morning, and I can still remember the warm raisin smell that would fill the place before we opened. I relished grabbing the huge scones with tongs, setting them carefully on the white ceramic plates, and laying down before the local Scots their most-beloved breakfast/teatime treat. If a scone was leftover at the end of the day, the servers would either split it and eat it straight from the counter or one of us would get to take it home. Sometimes, that was my dinner. Each one felt like it weighed a pound and was jammed with golden sultanas and dark raisins. Those were good scones.

It has been my experience on this side of the Atlantic, at least here in central Virginia, that most people do not know what a Scottish scone is like--its consistency being the hardest part to grasp. It shouldn't be chewy like a brownie (common misconception!) or light as a cake. It shouldn't be any sort of tough or spongy (a very, very common problem). It shouldn't be as sweet as a donut. It should, however, be somewhere between a biscuit and a heavy muffin. Scones are usually a little dry on the outside, soft and crumbly (but not dry) on the inside, and should have a little weight. A scone should be lightly sweetened, the sugar being a sweet discovery you make after the initial bite.

The best scones I've tried to make on my own are Martha Stewart's Cherry Scones. These scones have never disappointed. They're easy to make and are a good introduction to the art of the scone. You can eat these with the traditional devon cream, butter, or just by themselves. I suggest coffee or Earl Grey and a few good friends as the perfect accompaniment.

I made these scones this morning for Brandon's birthday breakfast. They brought a little bit of our history to the table--Scotland has a lot to do with why and how we met. We both watched as our baby grabbed pieces of scone with her two fingers, furrowed her brow, and crammed both hand and scone into her mouth.

Turkey, Take 1

On Sunday, I attempted to make Cooking Light's Classic Roast Turkey and Giblet Gravy because every cook, and every mom for that matter, should know how to make a good turkey dinner. Someday, I hope that I will host our own Thanksgiving meal, so I'd better start practicing now if I want to achieve that grandma finesse.

My experience was definitely a testament to doing too much and going too fast. The recipe wanted me to make the homemade turkey broth a day in advance. But Saturday was so quickly swallowed by dishes of past (made this the night before) and present and other household novelties, that I postponed until Sunday morning. At 8:30 a.m. I hoisted the turkey from the fridge to the sink, unwrapped it, wrestled the turkey neck from the bird's cavity (still a bit frozen) and yanked out a plastic packet of what I thought was premixed gravy (label said something about gravy). So, I tossed the packet, only to realize later that it contained the all important giblets, and threw the neck alone into a big stainless steel pot with hot oil. I was supposed to brown this for 15 minutes. The sputtering and spattering commenced as I held my baby girl on one hip and was soon distracted by her coos and arm flails and shrieks. Before long, we were both sitting in front of the computer staring at facebook when the smell of smoke started to tug at our noses. After only 8 minutes, I had completely charred the turkey neck. I put down the baby and took the pot onto the porch. Grabbed a towel and started waving it like a flag around the fire alarm. Thus the failure of step number 1.

I moved on. I had some chicken broth that I thought I could sub in for the homemade turkey broth. At this point, my husband Brandon and I decided it would be a good idea to go into town, get cappuccinos at Starbucks, and drop off some clothes at Good Will. It would be good to get out of the house, right? After a harried trip that turned out to be quite a bad idea (when will we learn not to take the baby ANYWHERE?!) with no cappuccinos whatsoever, I returned to my still smokey kitchen, exhausted, and feeling as though I was trying to do everything with one hand tied behind my back.

But then I delved into the real cooking. I had a blast chopping up the herbs and learning how to pin those pointy turkey wingtips behind the bird's back. I took fingerfuls of the herb-butter mixture and stuffed it underneath the skin. Cooking gets fun when you get your hands dirty. There's something elemental about shoving your hands underneath turkey skin and jamming in the shrubby herbs.

I thought my creation really was glorious slathered with butter and situated securely in my never-before-used giant roasting pan. I placed it in the oven and went back to baby watching...

When the turkey started to become golden, Rosie and I watched it through the oven door. She slapped her fat baby hands on the warm oven window and bounced like she does when she's happy. Brandon said it was starting to smell really good. Though we have many reasons not to call the apartment we're in our home quite yet, at that moment, everything fit together like magic. I knew right then that someday I'd look back on roasting that turkey and miss the feeling of home just coming together.

In the end, it turned out pretty well--even the gravy. I think I still have a long way to go before roasting the perfect classic, moist turkey, but this one still had its charm.