Super Bowl cupcakes

A cupcake big enough for only one event ... the Super Bowl!

Okay, so perhaps I’m a day late in posting this, but no matter. Cupcakes are to be enjoyed any day! I made these for a Super Bowl party which my friends were hosting. Four guys living in house could provide the wings, pizza, and beer, but someone had to bring the dessert, right?!

Yes, because we all know it isn’t a party if there’s no dessert. Up until that last, sweet course, it’s just a meal. I whipped up these cupcakes – yes, a bit amateur in the decoration and pretty cliché, as if any of my guy friends were really going to notice that en route to their mouths – on Sunday morning, and boy, did they make my apartment smell delicious! It took every ounce of self-control not to steal one of them beforehand, believe me.

I’ve used this recipe before, a Martha Stewart “kid’s recipe” for one-bowl chocolate cupcakes, and it was just as successful this time around. Granted, the chocolate flavor is a teensy bit flat compared to some sweeter types, but the chocolate is still deep and the cake is extremely moist and fluffy. Thank a healthy dose of buttermilk and hot water for the latter. The frosting is my version of my mom’s classic buttercream-type frosting: vanilla as the base and lacing,chocolate for the footballs. She used margarine while I was growing up, but I only use butter now (okay, I confess that I actually like how margarine tastes a little better than butter, but I’m trying to be more healthy here … if that’s possible to say in the context of buttercream frosting!). However, any way you beat it, the frosting turns out fluffy, sweet, and perfect…

… As were the cupcakes. Well, nearly so, at least. Everyone had at least one – including myself – and many of the guys snagged two. Hey, with their metabolisms, they could have had three each! Oh, the injustice…. Anyway, back to the cupcakes. The recipe is below, but I do warn you that the frosting recipe is highly, highly, highly adaptable. I swear, it comes out a little different each time; you need to play with the proportions and add sugar/cream as you go depending on the texture you want. You will like how it turns out, though, I promise – just work with it … hut-hut–HIKE!

Chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting (cupcakes adapted from Martha Stewart)

For the cupcakes:

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 3/4 tsp salt
• 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 3/4 tsp baking powder
• 3/4 cup buttermilk
• 3/4 cup warm water
• 2 eggs
• 3 Tbsp safflower oil
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

For the frosting:

• 5 Tbsp butter, softened
• 2-3 cups powdered sugar
• 3-5 Tbsp half-and-half, whipping cream, or milk (I don’t recommend skim milk unless you’re using it with a heavier cream)
• 1/2-1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/2 tsp almond extract
• 3 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder (if making a chocolate frosting)
• 1/2 oz dark chocolate, melted and cooled slightly (optional for chocolate frosting)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 18-24 muffin tin spots with paper or foil cupcake wrappers.

Over a large mixing bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Add eggs, buttermilk, oil, vanilla, and water to the dry ingredients (I usually beat the eggs and oil into the buttermilk directly in a 1-cup or 2-cup Pyrex measuring cup, in order to help everything incorporate, but you don’t really need to). Mix until the batter becomes smooth, 2-3 minutes.

Fill each muffin cup location 2/3 full with batter; don’t be tempted to fill them more than this, because this batter rises quite a bit! Bake the cupcakes until completely baked (when  fork inserted into the center of the middle cupcake comes out clean, or when the tops spring back when touched), about 20 minutes. Transfer the cupcakes to a wire rack and cool completely.

To make the frosting, whip the butter using an electric mixer until it becomes fluffy. Add in a tablespoon of cream, beat until mixed, then add 1 cup of powdered sugar. Mix slowly, then beat for a minute or two to fluff the frosting up. Add in the extracts and mix well. At this point, you can either separate this frosting base into two bowls, one for vanilla and one for chocolate, or continue down one path. If you’re choosing chocolate frosting, add a bit more liquid, beat, and then add in the cocoa powder. You can also add in some melted chocolate, for depth of flavor, but it’s not necessary. Continue to add in a little liquid and powdered sugar, beating well after every addition to keep the frosting fluffy, according to your taste. If you’re making vanilla frosting, just add liquid and powdered sugar until you get the flavor and consistency you want. You can also add more vanilla extract if needed.

Frost the cupcakes when they’ve cooled. You can create the footballs using chocolate frosting in a large-tipped pastry-bag (or waxed paper rolled into a cone, like I did) for the football and vanilla frosting in a narrow-tipped pastry bag for the lacing.

Oat cake with warm mixed-berry compote for Girls Cooking Night

This might be the perfect winter dessert ... steamy, soft oat cake topped with a warm mixed-berry compote and a dollop of Chambord-spiked whipped cream ... oh, heaven....

You know that recipe that’s been lingering in your recipe binder/folder/drawer for ages? The one you’ve been saving for just the right occasion? The one you know is going to be special, and you can’t wait to make it but somehow it keeps getting pushed back?

That’s exactly what happened with this recipe. Okay, I haven’t had it for literally ages, but ten months has certainly seemed so – that’s an indication of how badly I’ve wanted to make it. Since I am the queen of procrastination, somehow this recipe, the one I knew I’d instantly fall in love with, fell through the cracks. A Bobby Flay recipe which I found on Food & Wine’s website, it seemed neither a spring nor a summer recipe – even though it has a berry topping – and I couldn’t quite figure out when to make it. Salvage the dregs of the seasonal berries for an early fall dessert? Flash freeze berries in summer to keep for winter? Chance store-bought frozen berries in the dead of winter?

Certainly that last choice sounds the least desirable, yet that’s exactly what I did. This weekend we ladies had another of our girls’ cooking nights, and the theme was a “one-pot-meal”, the kind with a protein, starch, and vegetable all together. That’s typically not my favorite type of meal, but I was leaning toward making my favorite daube de boeuf Provençal (Martha’s recipe) over egg noodles or a Moroccan lamb stew/”tagine” over couscous. However, the morning of the event, I decided that since no one was making a dessert, I should bring one. After all, with all that heavy food, would we really need another “main” dish?

And, more importantly, would we want to forgo dessert at a party? I sure wouldn’t!

This is a greedy serving ... the cake is swimming in a lake of warm berries ... covered in a drunken cloud of whipped cream ... yes, heaven....

Insert that recipe, the one I’ve been waiting to make since last March. I figured “hey, it has fruit – it’s ‘light’ … and it’s a warm dessert, perfect for the currently frigid weather … and I can top it with Chambord-spiked whipped cream – ideal!” And so that’s exactly what I did….

Let me just state unequivocally that I will never again wait so long for a recipe that I clearly know I’ll love from the word go. Honestly, I cannot believe I deprived myself and my friends of this amazing dessert for ten whole months! I know I’m a little biased, but this dessert was the star of the night; and judging from how quickly everyone devoured their portions – and their praise of it – I think this opinion was shared by more than just me. Never again, never again, never again….

So, please do me two favors. First, follow my (new) advice and don’t wait to make that killer recipe you have sitting around somewhere. Second, bake this cake!! Why? The cake itself is stellar and can stand on its own as a dessert or even a snack cake – being incredibly moist on account of the soaked oats and perfectly sweet on account of the brown sugar and just the right amount of cinnamon and nutmeg – but it is a revelation when topped with the warm berry compote. I did cheat, if you consider it that, by using bagged frozen berries, but in the end I think it was a good move. They cooked down into a silky, almost soupy sauce, which sounds unrefined and even a bit unappetizing, but I promise you it is far from it. Really, you’re just giving the cake a warm berry hug, and it will reciprocate. And that spiked whipped cream? Icing on the cake, literally. Do it!!

Oat Cake (adapted from Food & Wine)

This recipe was from Bobby Flay and published on Food & Wine’s website. I made the cake exactly as the recipe called for, but my major deviations came in the berry compote (see below) and the whipped cream. Bobby served his with clotted cream, which is probably traditional for this Scottish-style cake, but I Americanized the recipe; hey, that’s just me….

• 1 cup rolled oats (not quick oats)
• 1 1/4 cups boiling water
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon (I used Ceylon cinnamon)
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a 9″ square baking pan. In a heatproof bowl with a cover (such as a Pyrex dish), soak the oats in the boiling water for 20 minutes; drain excess water.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter until it’s creamy. Add the sugars, one at a time, and beat until the mixture is light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla. In two additions, mix in the dry ingredients at low speed, being careful to mix until just incorporated. Gently beat in the oats.

Pour the cake batter into the prepared pan and bake in the middle of the oven for 40 minutes (my cake took 44 minutes, so keep checking), or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to cool completely; or, if you’re like me and perennially pressed for time, you can take the cake in its pan as it’s cooling to your social event/function/dinner party – it’ll turn out just fine.

Cut the cake into squares (nine worked for us) and serve with the Warm Mixed-Berry Compote and a dollop of Chambord-spiked whipped cream.

Warm mixed-berry compote and spiked whipped cream (adapted from Food & Wine)

Feel free to take liberties with this recipe; I sure did. You can replace the water with orange juice if you want (that’s what Bobby Flay did), but I honestly don’t think this dessert would benefit from the overly citrus flavor; personally, I think the only punch it needs comes from the Chambord. That is a definite must….

• 1 1/2 cups water (you can reduce this to 1 cup if you want a thicker sauce)
• 3 Tablespoons mild honey
• juice of 1/2 lemon
• 3 cups mixed berries (raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries), fresh or frozen
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• splash Chambord
• 1 Tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 1 1/2 Tablespoons water
• 1 cup whipping cream
• 1 Tablespoon powdered sugar
• 1 Tablespoon Chambord

In a medium saucepan set over medium-high heat, combine the water, lemon juice, and honey. Bring to a boil to dissolve the honey, about 2 minutes. Add the berries and cook until the berries are thoroughly softened, to your taste; reduce the heat to about medium, so the mixture will simmer steadily but not fiercely. This will take anywhere from 3-6 minutes.

Add the vanilla and Chambord, stir, and continue to cook for another 30 seconds. Stir in the dissolved cornstarch and simmer the sauce for another few minutes. You can alter the cooking time to get the desired consistency; I liked the sauce a bit thicker, so I ended up cooking this for about 10 minutes all together. Serve the sauce warm.

Meanwhile, whip the cream, powdered sugar, and tablespoon Chambord together (chill the bowl and beaters first) until thick and as firm as you can get it without curdling the cream. Spoon a humble dollop on each serving of oat cake with the berry sauce.

Lentils braised in red wine

Delicate Le Puy lentils benefit from an aromatic braise in red wine with carrots and leeks.

There is a lot I can say about lentils, and I wish I had the energy tonight to convey something intelligent to you (and no, my brain is not tired tonight from taking the Jeopardy online test – which went down not so well – but rather fatigued overall). I made these last week, actually, but I haven’t been able to post the recipe until now. It’s pathetic, I know. But I promise you I am still alive and cooking, just a less of the latter due to being busy and harried. Seriously – does January have a right to be this busy??

Here’s all I really want to say about lentils. They are little pebbles of earthy, energy-filled perfection that are an ideal dinner, lunch, or whatever you want to make of them. I must have downed dozens of bowls of my dad’s homemade lentil stew when I was growing up – cooked down for hours with the leftovers of a bone-in ham (including the bone, of course) simmering deep inside – and that rich and satisfying flavor has never left my memory. Even if I eat a different dish of lentils, I always compare it, subconsciously, to dad’s lentil soup. It was, is, and always will be the standard. However, this dish plays a close second fiddle to that soup.

Tiny, delicate, Le Puy lentils ... my little gems ....

My father always used  regular brown lentils we usually find here in the States, but I now like to use Le Puy lentils from France, which are smaller and more sturdy. Le Puy lentils take just a bit longer to cook, but they hold together and don’t become mushy. What’s even better, their flavor is a bit more … earthy … than other types of lentils. I don’t know what it is; maybe their shape reminds me more of beans, and that’s why I feel like their flavor is more like that of legumes and less like that of peas. Anyway, I know Le Puy lentils are hard to find, but keep your eyes peeled at places like Whole Foods, Wegmans, and specialty shops. Every once in awhile they turn up to surprise you – and pick them up when you have the chance!

Sadly, my poor photographs don’t do this dish justice, and I apologize for that. However, this recipe had a fantastic depth of flavor; if I didn’t know better, having cooked this myself, I’d have thought these flavors had been melding together for hours instead of half an hour. The red wine certainly helps that, but I really believe it’s the mustard and bay leaf that really give it that slow-cooked feel. I felt like I was in France when I was eating this, and a rush of happy memories flooded back through my mind … and my stomach! This made a great dinner, paired with a light salad, and a great lunch the next day. Serve it hot or serve it warm; either way will let the flavors shine through.

Trust me, even if you have your favorite lentil recipe (as I do!), you’ll want to try this one….

• 3 slices bacon, chopped
• 1 Tbsp olive oil, preferably Kalamata (or less oil)
• 1 carrot, finely chopped
• 1 leek, finely chopped
• salt
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 cup Le Puy lentils, picked over for shells or stones
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1/2 cups water
• 2/3 cup red wine

Heat a sauté pan over medium-low heat. Add the bacon pieces and cook down until some fat renders out and the bacon starts to brown. Add in the olive oil, then mix in the carrot and leek. Sprinkle in a dash of salt, keeping in mind the bacon, mustard, and wine will bring saltiness to the dish as well. Cover and cook until the vegetables are beginning to soften, about 5-7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook an additional 2 minutes.

Add the lentils to the pan and stir them around to coat with the oil. Add the mustard and bay leaf, stirring to distribute the mustard. Pour in the water and wine; you may need to add a bit more water so that the lentils are just covered by liquid. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer until the lentils are just tender. This should take about 25 minutes. Check the seasoning before serving.

Life’s little luxuries

What's that in my ice cream? Chambord, of course! And why not?!?

Sometimes in life you have to forget everything around you and just enjoy something that gives you a little pleasure. Sure, it’s decadent; sure, countless people have said “no, don’t eat that!” But….

Screw ‘em. Sometimes you can’t – shouldn’t – pass up on life’s luxuries. To have a life is to live your life.

The truth is, there was some vanilla bean Häagen-dazs ice cream in my freezer left over from making cheater’s crème anglaise last night – so why not eat it up? Actually, I spiked the crème anglaise with Chambord liqueur, and it tasted so good – like raspberries grew on the vine with vanilla beans and were distilled with cream – that this afternoon I figured, while watching the men’s finals of the US figure skating championships, “hey, why not drizzle a tablespoon or two onto what’s left of the pint?” Why not, indeed?

The only reason I could think of why not to do so, besides the facts that I didn’t grow up eating ice cream and generally try to eat much healthier than scarfing ice cream in the middle of the day, is the calorie count on the label. Let’s just say it’s a good thing the stuff tastes so darned good to make the 270 calories per half cup worth it. Yikes. As if my hips needed more padding?! How will I flip and twist (at gymnastics, my preferred form of exercise) with that creamy fat being converted most assuredly to cellulite within a few hours?

It’s just a teacupful, I told myself. Go for it!

Really, I shouldn’t be caring, not after devouring a slice of Molly Wizenburg’s Winning Hearts and Minds (nearly-flourless) chocolate cake – which is dense, rich, and pretty good but not out of the this world, in my opinion – last night with some of the aforementioned raspberry crème anglaise spooned atop. You see, in return for my extremely talented and wonderful friend Damien restringing my guitar and wowing me with his superior strumming skills (I can play the equivalent of chopsticks on my guitar … he, on the other hand, is a revelation on both the guitar and the bass), I brought over sushi for dinner and baked him the chocolate cake for dessert. Damien, being a chocolate-loving Italian, inhaled the cake appreciatively, and I left with a fixed guitar. Not a bad night – in fact, a pretty great one!

P.S. Tonight’s dinner? Light and low-calorie … mais bien sûr!

Shallow-poached salmon with shallots and capers

Salmon gets a healthy and easy treatment when cooked in a shallow poach.

You know the saying “there are other fish in the sea”? You know, the one people usually say when you’re going through a breakup and need some reassurance that you did not in fact lose your one true love in the world? Yeah, that one.

I actually like that saying; I’m a “deal-with-it-and-move-on” type of person, so that clichéd phrase suits me just fine. When it comes to men, there really are other fish in the sea. When it comes to actual fishes, however, there is but one fish for me: salmon.

Oh, its soft, fleshy goodness. Oh, its rich, buttery wonderfulness. Oh, its heart-healthy omega-3s. Raw, broiled, baked, marinated, pan-fried, stuffed: you name it, I’ll eat. Me + Salmon = Love, happily ever after.

Sure, I do have a soft spot in my tummy for tilapia, haddock, halibut, and perch – along with the childhood Wisconsin dinner memories that go with them – but when push comes to shove, I opt for salmon 90% of the time. My favorite way to prepare fillets is to simply marinate them with mustard, saffron, olive oil, and minced shallots, or perhaps soy, olive oil, ginger, and garlic, then flip them into the oven to broil for a few minutes. However, since I do try to be a creative Night Owl Chef, I’m always eager to try new salmon preparations, and in particular I’ve always been curious to poach salmon.

Enter an old issue of Cooks Illustrated that I ran across. I found an article inside for a novel shallow poaching method and instantly bookmarked it to try. Instead of completely submerging the fish in liquid, shallow poaching lays the salmon fillets on round lemon slices and fills the cooking vessel with a wine/water mixture just a bit past the bottom of the fish. This prevents the bottom from getting overdone while the thickness of the salmon steams. It is, in a word, brilliant. Oh – and delicious. And soft. And buttery….

When I made this a few nights ago, I put everything in the pot with trepidation, including some new marjoram from Penzy’s instead of the fresh herbs the recipe called for. I was nervous that I was going to overcook the salmon and end up with a pink hockey puck for dinner, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, I don’t think it’s possible to screw up this cooking method! The liquid in the pot and the steam kept the salmon succulent and far from hard or dried-out. I even cooked it a bit too long for my tastes – I prefer the middle to be just done – but the flesh was still soft and flavorful throughout. In summary, you must try this cooking method because you will enjoy it. It was so easy and so perfect.

And the topping? Probably not necessary for every meal, but it was fun and easy. I roughly chopped capers, minced half a shallot, and threw that together with some honey, a dab of olive oil, and a splash of the reduced poaching liquid. It was a nice compote, and I suggest keeping the liquid to a minimum – otherwise it becomes a runny sauce. Its piquant flavors were tasty, but did overpower the delicate notes of marjoram in the poaching liquid, so I recommend using it to your discretion.

Shallow-poached salmon with capers and shallots (adapted from Cooks Illustrated)

• 1 lemon, cut into 1/4″ thick slices
• 2 salmon fillet pieces, 4-5 oz each
• 1 shallot, minced, divided
• salt and freshly ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon dried marjoram (or fresh herbs, such as parsley)
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 Tablespoons capers, roughly chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon dried marjoram
• 1 teaspoon honey (or agave nectar, as I used)
• 2 teaspoons mild-flavored olive oil, such as Kalamata

In a covered saucepan, lay the lemon slices flat into two lines. Scatter half of the minced shallot and the marjoram over the lemon slices. Season the salmon with salt and pepper, and lay the fillet pieces across the lemon slices so the fish is directly over the lemon and none touches the pan. Pour the wine and water into the pan so the liquid comes up just past the bottom of the salmon.

Set the pan over high heat, and bring the liquid to a simmer. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pan, and cook the salmon until the sides are opaque and the center temperature is 125°F, about 10-12 minutes. Remove the salmon to a sheet of foil using a flat spatula, and fold the foil over loosely. Remove the lemon slices from the poaching liquid and discard.

Increase the heat to high, and simmer the poaching liquid until it thickens and reduces down to two tablespoons, about 5 minutes. In a small bowl, combine the second half of the minced shallots, capers, marjoram, honey, olive oil, and a bit of salt and pepper. Whisk together, then spoon 1-2 tablespoons of the reduced poaching liquid into the bowl, but don’t include the cooked shallots.

Serve the salmon with a tablespoon or so of the caper-shallot sauce on top.

Galangal-spiced chicken with fennel, olives, and lemon

Chicken thighs spiced with Thai galangal and cinnamon pairs well with fennel, olives, and lemon.

I’ve had more fun with my spices from Penzeys, and that’s about the best way I can describe this dish. It was 100% an experiment with a spice I’ve never tasted before and which I put on my Christmas list, to be honest, on a whim – such is the irresistible pull of the Penzeys online catalog. On Christmas morning when I pulled jar after beautiful jar of spices from a gift bag, I was full of anticipation of that first whiff of each spice. Would I like each of them? Would the za’atar be as good as I remembered? Would the Vietnamese and Ceylon cinnamon be as wonderful as promised? Would the galangal be tasty, as promised, or as pungent as a footballer’s sneaker?

That first sniff of the galangal was not quite what I expected … and I say that lightly. Penzeys promised a flavor “similar to ginger but more flowery and intense … important and popular in Thailand”. Well, they weren’t joking about it being intense! Thankfully, it wasn’t intense like a rank, sweaty sneaker (which is what I imagined I was biting into when I tasted raclette cheese the first – and only – time), but intense like condensed, dried ginger and lily flowers. There was a smidgen of a bitter “aftersmell”, but not altogether unpleasant. More than anything, I was just curious about how to use it – and eager to do so.

Even though galangal is a Thai spice, I don’t eat Thai food – except for a delicious Thai eggplant dish I ate recently in Dahlgren, VA – and don’t plan on starting to cook that style anytime soon. Essentially, I had a serendipitous moment last week at the farmer’s market when I saw a bulb of fennel and smelled the fronds; I recalled the flowery notes of the galangal and figured the two would compliment each other well. Combined with some olives and lemons I already had at home – as well as some chicken thighs in my freezer that desperately needed to be eaten – I had the beginnings of a dish.

I ended up browning the chicken thighs, which I trimmed mercilessly but kept most of the skin on, just to see how it ended up; usually I prefer boneless, skinless chicken breasts, but hey – when life gives you lemons…. Anyway, I seasoned both sides of the chicken with salt and pepper, then generously sprinkled them with the galangal and a bit of Vietnamese cinnamon, on a whim. At this point, things were smelling good, so I knew I was on the right track.

After that, I simply sautéed the fennel with an onion, added the rest of my ingredients, and let everything simmer in its toasty, aromatic bath for a good 20 minutes while I watched the news. Easy peasy! I had pretty low expectations for this dish since it was my first time using the main spice, but it turned out to be very flavorful and pungent – in a very pleasing way. The only downside was the chicken skin, which I promptly sloughed off after plating; definitely will be going for my usual bare chicken breasts next time. Despite that, however, this dish was one worth sharing.

I invite you to try this intriguing spice. If you can’t find it, perhaps ginger might work, but if you like spicy cuisine and enjoy taking a trip down the ethnic isle at the grocer, it’s worth it to try galangal. Better yet, if you know any recipes which use it, pass them this way….

If you can’t find galangal, you can substitute a bit of ginger and perhaps coriander, but the taste won’t be quite the same. Similarly, regular store-bought cinnamon (not true cassia) can be used instead of the Vietnamese variety, but use a light hand because Vietnamese cinnamon has a sharper, less bitter taste than the cinnamon most of us are used to; a little bit goes a long way.

• 1 Tbsp olive oil, preferably Kalamata
• 2 trimmed chicken thighs or breasts (skinless)
• 1 tsp galangal spice (see headnote)
• 1/2 tsp Vietnamese cinnamon
• salt and freshly ground pepper
• 1/2 Vidalia onion, chopped
• 1 bulb fennel, halved and sliced 1/4″ thick
• 1/4 cup pitted, quartered olives (a mix of green, such as Cerignola, and Kalamata, to your taste)
• 1/4 cup vermouth or dry white wine
• juice of 1/2 lemon
• 1 cup chicken stock, preferably low sodium
• 2 Tbsp chopped fennel fronds

Heat the olive oil in a straight-sided medium sauté pan over medium-high heat. Season both sides of the chicken with the galangal, cinnamon, salt, and pepper. Brown the chicken in the pan on both sides, about three minutes each. You don’t have to cook the chicken all the way through here, because it will cook fully later. Remove the chicken to a plate.

Reduce the heat to medium and sauté the onion and fennel together. Salt the vegetables, stir, and cover the pan. Cook the onions and fennel until they are slightly softened and more translucent in color, about 5 minutes. Add the olives and cook another 30 seconds or so.

Add the vermouth (or wine) to the pan and stir, scraping up any bits from the bottom of the pan. Squeeze the lemon juice (no seeds!) into the mixture, then add the stock; you may need to add a little more than 1 cup of stock so that almost all of the veggies are covered. Stir in the fennel fronds (from the fennel bulb). Nestle the chicken back into the pan so they are mostly covered by the liquid. Increase the heat to medium-high and cook until a rolling boil forms.

Decrease the heat to a simmer and cook the mixture for 20-25 minutes, until the chicken is cooked all the way through, the vegetables are fully tender, and the liquid is reduced to a thickish sauce. Serve the chicken over the fennel, onions, and olives.

Za’atar … a zesty and zany spice!

Za'atar spice sprinkled on a pita, just like I devoured for four years at McGill U.

Well, it’s been a long time – too long a time – since I posted here, and I feel pretty lazy about it. The truth is, I was home with my family in Pennsylvania from before Christmas to just before New Years, with a little jaunt into Baltimore in there sometime. And while I definitely scarfed down my fair share of meals while at home, I didn’t cook anything new. I did whip up a breakfast of stewed prunes and Dutch pancakes for my family after Christmas – to happy mouths – but I haven’t made anything since then worth posting. Since I’ve been back in New Jersey, I’ve been sick and haven’t cooked much – and what I did attempt was unsuccessful, unfortunately.

So, there are my excuses for not posting! However, I did get several good ideas for future food items which I’m sure I’ll be posting about soon – my mom’s curried beets, cardamom-cayenne spiced tilapia, and some sort of cinnamon tarts/rolls/puffs. I suppose the break was a good chance to recharge, in that respect. While my belly was a-filling, my brain was a-ticking….

Being Christmas, of course, I did receive some very lovely gifts, and I’m very thankful to my family for them. My older sister was thrilled to receive Calphalon pots and Chicago cutlery, but I think I was luckier for a gift which most (sane?) people would laugh at: spices.

Yes, spices – but not just any old spice. You see, for years now I’ve been searching for the spice blend called za’atar, or its most crucial component, sumac. In fact, ever since I graduated from McGill University (situated in the center of lovely, wonderful, homey, bustling, beautiful, exciting, addictive, enthralling, and all-around-perfect city of Montréal, Quebec) I’ve been looking high and low for za’atar: in supermarket chains, specialty food stores in NYC, tiny ethnic groceries, and hole-in-the-wall markets, all to no avail. Why did I search high and low for this mysterious spice, you ask?

Hmm … the answer is part nostalgia and part deliciousness. You see, on all of campus there was one independently run café, and it lived in a tiny but delightfully aromatic corner of the basement of the architecture building. They fed hungry architecture and engineering students (like moi and my fellow nerdy yet ravenous friends) something different: homemade samosas, pitas, Jamaican beef patties, tomato and herb focaccias, and loads of freshly baked muffins, bread loaves, and cookies. But of all those goodies, the first things to go every day were the za’atar pitas; you had to be there before 11am if you wanted one (and be sure, we were … twice a week, probably). They were just regular pitas – though fluffy and soft – but when brushed with olive oil and dusted generously with the tart, zesty, and tangy flecks of za’atar, they were transformed into something else entirely. There was always an initial bite that turned me off … but then my taste buds craved more of that addictive flavor and it was all over. The memory of that flavor kept me – and my friends – going for four years of college, and since then it’s put me on a wild and crazy search for, of all things, a spice.

It’s not just any old spice, though, clearly. Apparently, if you mix crushed sumac berries, thyme, white sesame seeds, and salt, you make magic. Did you know that? Like curry, za’atar is a spice mix that varies from region to region. It originated in the Arabian peninsula, and there are infinite varieties found throughout Lebanon, Iraq, Syria, Israel, the Palestinian-held lands, Egypt, and now other parts of northern Africa. The particular type of za’atar I discovered at McGill was green, but it definitely had the tang of sumac; however, the variety I was given for Christmas has a distinct reddish hue, which is indicative of the sumac berries it contains (apparently, and it’s characteristic of the Lebanese version).

Which takes me to my newest hero, Penzey’s Spices … where I finally found my za’atar (which can also be spelled zatar or satar, by the way). This is a fantastic site, if you’ve never been there before. I made out a little Christmas list thanks to it, and Santa was very kind to me: he gave me Ceylon cinnamon, Vietnamese cinnamon, sumac berries, my za’atar, galangal (a pungent Thai spice similar to ginger), and marjoram (hey, it was cheap and it’s hard to find in NJ). Penzey’s spice choices are broad, well-priced, and high quality. Plus, it’s a good ‘ole, Made in America company found right in Wisconsin (where my heart partially lives, along with my Packers). Can you get any better than this?

The answer is no. And, the answer is also Get yourself some za’atar – you will fall in love also! (And if you happen to fall in love with Montréal as well, more power to you … that makes two of us!)

Fudge three ways for my three favorite people

Stacks of square fudge for the ones I love ... soon to be stuffed into already stuffed stockings!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

All gifts were prepared, and nearly all wrapped,

save a few tins of goodies, delicious homemade craft.

Last night did I toil, for half an hour or so,

as I whipped up some fudge; crazy, I know.

Three in my life, the most special by far,

will unwrap a delight ‘neath the Bethlehem star.

For dear sister Sarah, the tropical chick,

is a sweet with a definite Florida kick.

Slivers of dried mango, and chunks of pineapple;

pistachios and sugared ginger, not too much to grapple.

Next for my mother, a fudge with some zest:

a quirky flavor mix will have her impressed.

Cranberries in chocolate and pistachio nuts,

together with tangerine do give her fudge guts.

Finally for father, who brings home the bacon:

is a fudge with which he will always awaken.

Chock full of coffee beans, bathed in chocolate dark,

his sweet treat will give him an anytime spark.

Tomorrow night as the clock strikes Christmastime Eve,

these three lucky people will smile, I believe.

Fudge three ways: with chocolate-covered coffee beans; with chocolate covered cranberries, pistachios, and tangerine zest; and with dried fruit, pistachios, and ginger (adapted from Cooks Illustrated’s 15-Minute Fudge recipe)

The original recipe called for 1 cup of walnuts, but I decided to do something more exciting: I split the fudge base into three bowls and mixed in ~1/3 cup of different flavor combinations into each, then poured the result into the pan which I split into thirds using folded aluminum foil*. Use my flavors as jumping-off points for your own concoctions, but I will very, very strongly recommend the version with tangerine zest; it is incomparable! I also suggest throwing in some chopped crystallized ginger or toasted walnuts in the coffee-bean version. Yum!

• 

  Sweet "tropical" fudge for my sister, Sarah

• 1 pound semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped (use bar chocolate, not chips; Ghirardelli recommended)
• 2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 14-oz can sweetened condensed milk
• 1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup “mix-ins” (eg. dark chocolate-covered coffee beans, sliced in half; dark chocolate-covered cranberries or cherries, sliced in half; toasted pistachios, cooled; zest of 1 tangerine; crystallized ginger, finely chopped; chopped dried mango and/or pineapple)

Prepare an 8×8″ baking pan by lining it with aluminum foil; use enough so there is overhang on two sides. Spray the foil with nonstick cooking spray.

Cranberry- and pistachio-flecked zested fudge for my ma

In the top bowl of a double boiler (or a heatproof bowl, such as a glass bowl), mix together the chocolates, baking powder, and salt. Make sure the baking soda is evenly distributed. Stir in the condensed milk and vanilla.

Set the bowl over, not in, simmering water. Heat the fudge mixture, stirring constantly, until only the last chocolate chunks remain. Remove the bowl from the water and continue stirring until all chocolate has melted. At this point, you can stir in the “mix-ins”.  Pour the fudge into the prepared pan and refrigerate for about 2 hours or until firm. Pull out of the pan using the overhanging foil. Cut and enjoy!

* If you would like to do what I did and make multiple versions of fudge from one recipe, just use your foil to create a “barrier” and divide the pan into halves or thirds. Simply cut a longer piece of foil than usual, and crimp a 1″ high section near the middle into a ridge shape. Repeat as necessary, spacing the foil channels appropriately. Fit the foil sheet into the baking pan.

Celery root potage with crispy shallots

Whip up - literally - a creamy and mellow potage for dinner ... and don't forget the crispy shallot rings!

Well, I’m at it again – making soup, that is. I just can’t help myself this time of year. I would apologize, but since I think everyone else feels the same way I do, here we go again! Is it just me, or is this cold snap (hel-LO, two feet of snow!) chilling to the bone? Sometimes a mug of tea will warm you up from the inside out, but for me it’s only a bowl soup that really does the trick to right me.

Of course, more often than not I burn the tip of my tongue in the process – I am just too impatient to wait for soup to cool, and apparently I never learn – but there are worse things … like cold soup.

… which reminds me of another reason to love soup: you can enjoy the piping hot leftovers the next day at work while you shiver from the lack of adequate heating! Truthfully, there are no words to describe how cold I get at work some days when the HVAC just can’t keep up with the wintry winds blowing through the half-century-old aluminum siding and drafty doors (I’d say drafty windows, but we have none…). Well, scratch that – I can try to describe it.

Let’s see … I have a pair of elementary school-style black gloves to wear when my fingernails turn too blue (thin enough so I can still type and use my mouse, of course). I take hot water out of the water cooler instead of cool because cold water chills me. I keep a cardigan, a sweatshirt, and the lining of a military-issued winter jacket on hand for when my customary two layers aren’t enough to heat my torso. Oh – and I have two-inch thick down-lined mittens in my cabinet as well, but those are just to be silly and make a point about how ridiculous the cold is. Thankfully, I’m not the only one who freezes their bippy off at work, so I’m not laughed at so much as laughed with. Yes, I like the direction of that phrase as well!

So you can understand by now why I adore soups so much, and equally why I was looking forward to my lunch today. After a cold weekend, our building wasn’t too much past 66ºF this morning, but I knew I’d warm up around 12:30! This puréed celery root soup was truly delicious last night, but I was more thankful for it today. The recipe had been hanging around one of my recipe binders for years; the second my first spoonful passed my lips I wondered why I’d been so stupid as to let it sit for so long! This soup – which I’m calling a potage just to be funny, since potage means “thick soup”, which this is, but also because it’s a play on words since I added a potato to the recipe – is rich tasting, creamy, piquant, mild, and satisfying all at the same time. How can that be possible, you ask? Why, because it’s a soup, of course, and soups are my miracle meal!!

This particular recipe is from the 2003 Holiday issue of Food and Drink, which is a truly fantastic magazine published by the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (Canada). It’s been a recipe goldmine for me for years now, ever since I lived there with my family from ~’98 to ‘00. Ever since we moved away almost a decade ago, my mom’s best friend (and mother of the author of this great blog ranting and rambling about life in London) sends along her past issues of Food and Drink for us in turn to cull recipes from. She’s a Godsend! Of all the obscure magazines in the world….. Well, I did tweak this recipe a bit – theirs called for pancetta to start and a leek instead of the shallots, but I had neither of the above but half a dozen shallots on hand, nor was there a potato involved in the original – but my result was probably better than theirs, I bet. I even decided to use up the extra shallots by slicing them thinly and frying them up to an earthy brown crunch. True, they were fried and therefore inherently unhealthy – yet also inherently tasty – but they were also better than the pancetta would have turned out, I’d venture to guess.

If you take this recipe verbatim or tweak it to your own liking – and pantry stock – I guarantee you will end up with the perfect soup for when you need a little warmth, whether at home, at work, or anywhere.

Celery root potage with crispy shallots (adapted from Food and Drink, Holiday 2003)

The potage:

• 1 Tbsp olive oil
• 3 shallots, halved and sliced 1/8″ thick
• kosher salt
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 2 cups chicken stock, low sodium
• 1 celery root, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes
• 1 Yukon Gold potato, cut into 1/2″ cubes
• 3/4 cup milk (anything works; I used skim)
• 2 Tbsp cream (your pick; I used heavy cream because that’s what I had)

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over barely medium heat, then add the shallots. Salt the shallots and stir to coat everything in oil; sauté for about 4 minutes, until they’re softened a bit. Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the garlic. Cook for another 2 minutes longer; keep watch on the garlic so it doesn’t burn. Add the celery root, stir, and cook for about 5 minutes. You’re looking for a gentle brown on the shallots and garlic, but just a little bit. At this point, add the potato to the pan.

Pour the wine into the saucepan and deglaze the pan. Raise the heat to medium-high and reduce the wine by half. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the celery root is tender; for me this was about 25 minutes, but it may be up to 40 minutes depending on the size of your chunks.

Add the milk and cream, stir, and adjust seasoning if necessary. Cook the soup a little longer so the milk has warmed up, but don’t let the soup boil away. If it does and the cream separates, however, don’t sweat it – puréeing the soup will fix this. Using an immersion blender or transferring the soup to a stand blender, purée the soup until the texture is as fine as silk. It should be smooth but still thick. Garnish with crispy fried shallots.

The crispy shallots:

• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• 2 shallots, sliced 1/8″ thick and separated into rings
• kosher salt

While the potage is cooking, heat the olive oil in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot (a tiny drop of water evaporates immediately), dump in half of the shallots – but be careful to use a splatter guard or a lid to keep hot oil from spitting up at you. Using a fork, distribute the shallots in the oil so they cook evenly. Keep watch of them, stirring once or twice to make sure every piece cooks to a deep brown. This should take about 3 minutes.

Remove the shallots from the oil using a fork or a slotted spoon, laying them onto a paper towel to absorb excess oil. Immediately sprinkle with a bit of salt. Repeat this process with the rest of the shallots.

Pfeffernussen for a pfabulous Girls’ Cookie Exchange

Thank zee Germans for these soft and spicy Christmas cookies!

As I watch the snow tumbling down from the clouds to blanket my little corner of the Northeast, it just occurred to me what a perfect wintertime cookie a pfeffernussen cookie is. The confectioners’-sugar-covered mounds remind me of snow-capped Appalachian hills. In both, sweet and fluffy white tries to hide the dull brown: in the cookies the spiced dough is the workhorse, and in winter the brown land beats with vibrant life undamped by cold snow flurries.

Okay, so I’m not that great with analogies, but in my head it’s all there. What I’m trying to say is, these cookies are a great companion to a mug of chamomile tea or a glass of Riesling or champagne (or Crémant, Alsace’s sparkling white wine, if you’re lucky enough to get your mittened hands on any). They’re chock-full of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ground black pepper – yes, you heard me right – and allspice, plus molasses and brown sugar to sweeten the whole deal. There’s just something about their warming spiciness – nostalgia, perhaps – that makes them a good counterpoint to all the Christmas chocolates and fruity Christmas cookies and breads being passed about. Thank the Germans – or zee Germans, as I like to pronounce it, hearing it sound like the men talking in the old 1940s-era WWII movies – for these traditional cookies.

A table full of homemade Christmas cookies ... my, oh my! Do you like my hobo tiered display?!?

These really are traditional Christmas cookies, too. In fact, my mom told me last week that her mother and grandmother used to make these, but that she hadn’t eaten any since she was young. However, she did remember loving her Alsatian  grandma’s version with longing, so when I told her I was planning on making these for my girlfriends’ annual Girls’ Cookie Exchange (the traditional December version of our monthly Girls’ Cooking Nights) she demanded – literally, she begged – I save her some to bring home for Christmas. Since I was already baking 6 dozen for the cookie exchange, what was one more dozen? Of course I would do that! These happen to be really easy cookies to make, too; well, they’re not as easy as chocolate-chip cookies since you do have roll these into balls and cover them in powdered sugar after baking, but they’re certainly not as laborious as frosting and decorating cutout sugar cookies.

The only thing I have left to say about these is that they were a hit! The second I walked through the door of the host’s house she exclaimed with surprising excitement, “Did you make pfeffernusse?! Oh, my God, I love pfeffernusse!” Well, pfeffernussen, pfeffernussen; potato, potatoe. But I was glad at least someone else knew about them! She and her roommates are apparently wild fans of these cookies and sadly had to endure an entire bag of store-bought ones already this season. It’s a good thing I saved them with a homemade version!

This particular recipe is from Martha Stewart, and I happily report its success. I made smaller balls than she suggested and adjusted the baking time accordingly. I took them out of the oven when a gentle poke yielded a little but the outside was slightly firm. I hope you either bake up a batch this year or print out the recipe for next year’s Christmas!

Pfeffernussen cookies (adapted from Martha Stewart)

Don’t be alarmed by the use of black pepper. You can’t really pick that out in the finished cookie, but it definitely adds to the “zing” in these cookies. As always, try to use the freshest spices you can for the best flavors. This recipe makes about 4 dozen.

Coating the pfeffernussen cookies with confectioners' sugar; don't sneeze!

• 1 cup confectioners’ sugar
• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
• 3/4 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1/4 cup unsulfured molasses
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 350ºF. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat sheet or parchment paper. Place the confectioners’ sugar in a Ziploc bag.
2. In a medium bowl, combine flour, pepper, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves, salt, and baking soda.
3. Place the butter in large mixing bowl and cream with handheld beaters until soft and lightened in color. Alternatively, you can use a stand electric mixer. Add the brown sugar and molasses to the bowl and beat on medium speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in egg and vanilla. Add flour mixture in two additions; beat until just combined.
4. Chill the dough for a few minutes; 10 or 15 will do. Roll dough into 3/4-inch balls. Arrange the balls about 1 1/2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.
5. Bake until cookies are golden and firm to the touch with slight cracking, about 11 minutes. Cool the cookies on the sheet for 1-2 minutes, then transfer them to a wire rack to cool slightly, no more than 10 minutes.
6. While another batch bakes in the oven, coat the first batch in confectioners’ sugar. Place 6-8 cookies in the bag; shake until well coated. Use a slotted spoon or a fork to remove the cookies, shaking off excess sugar. Let cool completely on the wire rack. Store in an airtight container.