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(11/08/01 5:13am)
It has always been my belief that, at the end of the day, what most people want in the way of home cooked food is something consoling and uncomplicated. Enter the muffin, the most democratic of baked goods. Muffins are amenable to both state-of-the-art and cubby-hole kitchens. Cooks who have studied cooking for years find as much joy in whipping up a batch of muffins as completely green cooks, and fussy toddlers, cranky teenagers and weary adults are comforted by them.\nMost muffin recipes are variations of a four-step process: combine the wet ingredients, combine the dry ingredients, combine the wet with the dry, and bake. In 20 to 30 minutes, magic. Muffins as we know them are believed to have originated in the mid-1800s when a pan made of iron or tin cups, fastened together by a rack, was created. The special baking pan was called a "gem cup" tray and explains why muffins are still called "gems" in some areas of the country.\nBesides being fast and easy, muffins are almost infinitely variable -- there is not a single quick bread recipe that cannot be baked as muffins and vice versa. Baking at home gives you control over fat content and quality of ingredients and introduces you to one of life's great luxuries: fresh-from-the-oven-muffins. Once you have tried them you will be reluctant to turn back to the store-bought kind ever again.\nMuffins are quick breads, meaning that they are leavened with baking powder (and sometimes baking soda), allowing them to rise instantly. The goal for muffins is usually a delicate, cake-like crumb, moist interior, and nicely browned but still tender crust. To achieve such a texture they must contain a little fat, which contributes to the flavor and tenderness.\nOne thing to remember with muffins is that overmixing the batter will make them tough. While in most yeast breads you want to develop the gluten in the flour in order to get a tough crust and chewy crumb, with muffins (and other quick breads) you want to retard gluten development to keep the bread light. So resist taking out any pent-up aggression on your batter and combine the wet and dry ingredients quickly, with as little mixing or stirring as possible. As soon as there are no more dry bits, stop stirring.\nAnother potential, but easily avoidable, pitfall, is an over-hot oven. I suspect that this may be the leading cause of kitchen angst. You follow the cookie, cake or muffin directions to the letter but consistently get flat, burned baked goods. Remedy the problem for good by heading to the local supermarket and buying an oven thermometer. It will be the best five dollars you ever spend for your kitchen. Many ovens (my own included) run anywhere from 25 to 50 degrees hotter than the dial reads. The thermometer will indicate just how much hotter your oven is, allowing for you to adjust it accordingly. \nAs a young girl with a "more-is-always-more" zeal, I would invariably fill muffin cups to overflowing. I liked the way all of the muffin tops glommed together into a united mass; the rest of my family was less enthusiastic. So unless otherwise stated, fill muffin cups only two-thirds to three-fourths full with batter to prevent muffin lava. Begin checking if done at the minimum time given in the recipe. The muffins are done when the center springs back when lightly touched and when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.\nIf you were limited to but one muffin recipe, you would likely choose these lemony gingerbread muffins. To savor them on a chilly Saturday morning is to celebrate all that is fall. Unfortunately, they are wonderful, which means it will be difficult to eat just one.
(10/25/01 4:11am)
When I moved last year, I was befuddled and dismayed to discover not one, not even two or three, but seven cans of refried beans shoved to the back of one of my kitchen cupboards. How did it happen? I had only the faintest memory of purchasing even one can. \nOf course, I had no one to blame but myself, because I was living on my own at the time, but that did not stop me from feeling that somebody had duped me, somehow. Now what, I wondered? Should I be frugal, dig in and eat with a spoon for the next two weeks? Throw a giant taco party? Stucco the walls with the stuff?\nI overcame the fleeting urge to tip the entire bounty into the nearest Dumpster and instead attempted to recruit several friends and acquaintances to join me in a refried bean-eating blowout. They were wise to me and would have none of it. So I resigned myself to my fate and set to work creating a few fresh ideas.\nIt was easier than I thought and I was reminded of why I like refried beans to begin with. Healthfulness is one of the top reasons. Although soaking and cooking beans from scratch yields the best texture, there is an added nutritional bonus to the convenience of refried beans and other beans in a can. The canning process acts as a miniature pressure cooker, sealing in a slew of nutrients including protein, carbohydrates, fiber, potassium, iron and vitamins B and C.\nThe "refried" on the label is something of a misnomer, too. Ironically, most canned refried beans are not fried, let alone "re"-fried. \nFat-free refried beans, as well as many of the organic brands (check the health food section of the supermarket) are typically cooked in water or chicken broth with a shake of spices and little or no vegetable oil. Check the label and compare brands to be sure.\nBut for a plain old cook like myself, who is less than ambitious at the end of a long weekday, it is the prospect of a tasty dinner without much effort that makes a can of refried beans worthwhile. When dinner desperation sets in, refried beans offer a large return in the form of a creamy bean soup, a hearty quesadilla or a Southwestern pizza for a small investment of time and money. \nThe Santa Fe hummus is one of my all-time favorite cheap and easy recipes. It comes together in minutes, requires no cooking skills other than measuring and stirring, and both your carnivorous and vegetarian friends will love it. I can make a meal of it, some good bread and a salad. Unless you want to live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, there is nothing easier.\nIf a wave of mild ambition takes hold, or if your supply of refried beans simply runs out, make your own; it's well worth it. Although the established medium for frying the beans is melted lard (and with good reason; it's delicious) I have lightened and simplified the preparation with vegetable oil (a whole lot less of it) and an ample dose of herbs and spices. I am partial to the flavor and texture of black beans, but red or pinto beans work just as well.
(10/04/01 5:49am)
If you have ever considered preparing dinner for a date, then you have likely discovered the yin and yang of such an endeavor. On one hand there is that which you covet -- a great time, some great food and great admiration from your companion -- and on the other is the price you hope to avoid paying for it all, both in time and money.\nThe one word solution is pasta. In the world of entrees, pasta is the home cook's greatest ally. Imagine a food that costs $1 (or less) per pound, is considered both haute cuisine and peasant food, and is ready to eat in less than 10 minutes. You can toss it with a drizzle of olive oil, give it a light coating of butter and cheese or smother it in a rich sauce. It is a forgiving food, willing to overcome a moment of neglect on the stovetop or overzealous saucing. In the dating arena, it takes the gold medal, able to satisfy all varieties of potential dates, from vegetarians to carnivores. \nFor my money, you can't beat a plate of spaghetti and meatballs for a dine-in date. Your date will be at ease the moment you mention the comfort food agenda and, because the meatballs can be made up to a day ahead of time, your sanity will remain in check for the evening. \nFor the slightly ambitious, I recommend making a good marinara sauce from scratch. Recipes abound in every type and variety of cookbook and recipe Web site. For the lazy, the exhausted and the overtaxed, a decent bottle of jarred sauce (such as Paul Newman's Sockarooni Sauce) makes an excellent meatball base. The difference between a terrific and a crummy sauce can be as little as $1, so decide if your date is worth it and choose wisely.\nSome might argue that spaghetti is too problematic for a dinner date -- long slurpy noodles and bright red sauce ready to wreak havoc on brights and whites. I see spaghetti as a social experiment. Remember that guy picking his teeth with his credit card at the next table over the last time you went out to eat? His date seemed nonplussed; you were sickened. If your date has similar (but as of yet, unrevealed) table manners, they will be instantly exposed over a plate of spaghetti, eliminating endless future hand-wringing. If you prefer less dinner-date discovery, serve the meatballs over couscous. \nBalance the spaghetti and meatballs with a baguette from the local bakery and a green salad. Even people who claim to hate salad wolf it down when served in combination with pasta. Free yourself from iceberg lettuce and try some mixed greens, leaf lettuce (romaine or red leaf) or spinach for a change. Make life easy by buying a pre-washed bag of greens (you can work up to washing the greens some other time). Find a pretty bowl for the salad and squirrel away the bag before your date arrives.\nFor dessert, make it simple and make it chocolate. A silky-smooth homemade chocolate sauce is sublime and will knock the socks off of most anyone. It takes about five minutes to make from start to finish and can be prepared up to a week ahead of time. Your date will never guess that the phenomenal sauce has a mere two ingredients (three, if you add a bit of liqueur). Don't reveal your secret. Drizzle it, warm, over ice cream, pound cake, angel food cake or, for true chocolate fiends, chocolate cake. The cake can be purchased, made from a box mix or homemade. Or you can serve the sauce fondue style, dunking in chunks of fruit, cake, nuts, marshmallows or your finger when no one is looking. \nIt is no accident that both the vegetarian and meat versions of the meatballs make plenty of food. This gives you the option of sending your date home with a doggie bag (extra points for you if the date goes well) or consoling yourself with a second helping if it is a bust. The same holds true for the chocolate sauce. If the evening proceeds poorly, you still win: when your date asks about dessert, sniff loudly and proclaim you don't believe in sweets. Then end the date early, invite yourself over to your best friend's place, and share the sauce and a few good laughs while watching Saturday Night Live.
(10/04/01 4:00am)
If you have ever considered preparing dinner for a date, then you have likely discovered the yin and yang of such an endeavor. On one hand there is that which you covet -- a great time, some great food and great admiration from your companion -- and on the other is the price you hope to avoid paying for it all, both in time and money.\nThe one word solution is pasta. In the world of entrees, pasta is the home cook's greatest ally. Imagine a food that costs $1 (or less) per pound, is considered both haute cuisine and peasant food, and is ready to eat in less than 10 minutes. You can toss it with a drizzle of olive oil, give it a light coating of butter and cheese or smother it in a rich sauce. It is a forgiving food, willing to overcome a moment of neglect on the stovetop or overzealous saucing. In the dating arena, it takes the gold medal, able to satisfy all varieties of potential dates, from vegetarians to carnivores. \nFor my money, you can't beat a plate of spaghetti and meatballs for a dine-in date. Your date will be at ease the moment you mention the comfort food agenda and, because the meatballs can be made up to a day ahead of time, your sanity will remain in check for the evening. \nFor the slightly ambitious, I recommend making a good marinara sauce from scratch. Recipes abound in every type and variety of cookbook and recipe Web site. For the lazy, the exhausted and the overtaxed, a decent bottle of jarred sauce (such as Paul Newman's Sockarooni Sauce) makes an excellent meatball base. The difference between a terrific and a crummy sauce can be as little as $1, so decide if your date is worth it and choose wisely.\nSome might argue that spaghetti is too problematic for a dinner date -- long slurpy noodles and bright red sauce ready to wreak havoc on brights and whites. I see spaghetti as a social experiment. Remember that guy picking his teeth with his credit card at the next table over the last time you went out to eat? His date seemed nonplussed; you were sickened. If your date has similar (but as of yet, unrevealed) table manners, they will be instantly exposed over a plate of spaghetti, eliminating endless future hand-wringing. If you prefer less dinner-date discovery, serve the meatballs over couscous. \nBalance the spaghetti and meatballs with a baguette from the local bakery and a green salad. Even people who claim to hate salad wolf it down when served in combination with pasta. Free yourself from iceberg lettuce and try some mixed greens, leaf lettuce (romaine or red leaf) or spinach for a change. Make life easy by buying a pre-washed bag of greens (you can work up to washing the greens some other time). Find a pretty bowl for the salad and squirrel away the bag before your date arrives.\nFor dessert, make it simple and make it chocolate. A silky-smooth homemade chocolate sauce is sublime and will knock the socks off of most anyone. It takes about five minutes to make from start to finish and can be prepared up to a week ahead of time. Your date will never guess that the phenomenal sauce has a mere two ingredients (three, if you add a bit of liqueur). Don't reveal your secret. Drizzle it, warm, over ice cream, pound cake, angel food cake or, for true chocolate fiends, chocolate cake. The cake can be purchased, made from a box mix or homemade. Or you can serve the sauce fondue style, dunking in chunks of fruit, cake, nuts, marshmallows or your finger when no one is looking. \nIt is no accident that both the vegetarian and meat versions of the meatballs make plenty of food. This gives you the option of sending your date home with a doggie bag (extra points for you if the date goes well) or consoling yourself with a second helping if it is a bust. The same holds true for the chocolate sauce. If the evening proceeds poorly, you still win: when your date asks about dessert, sniff loudly and proclaim you don't believe in sweets. Then end the date early, invite yourself over to your best friend's place, and share the sauce and a few good laughs while watching Saturday Night Live.
(07/26/01 4:06am)
I have come to believe that any good home cook should know how to make a pie crust. I am a fool for anything wrapped in pie crust and view it as the little black dress of the culinary world: It serves well at breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack-time, and all manner of special occasions dishes. You can fill it with silky custard or savory quiche, pile it high with summer fruit, cut and press it into tiny appetizer tart molds, or fold it over and pinch it closed around spicy meat fillings. Once mastered, there is nothing in this world as useful or satisfying.\nOf course you can always buy a frozen or refrigerated pie crust, or add water to a mix to cut corners. All are fine in a pinch, but none can compare to the real thing. Homemade pie crust is worth the effort. Best of all, its flaky, delicate, melt-in-your-mouth goodness is composed of almost nothing at all. Everything it is made of is commonly found around the kitchen.\nAlmost any standard cookbook has at least one recipe for pie crust; perfect technique is the rarity. I consider it more of a lost science than a lost art. Pie crust dough is like chemistry, relying on perfectly coordinated proportions of flour and shortening to make a crust that is flaky and resilient. Even if you loathed high school chemistry, however, this is no cause for alarm -- mastery can be achieved with careful and accurate measurement.\nMeasure the shortening and place it in the refrigerator to chill before use. Once chilled, you can use a pastry blender to work the shortening into the flour, but I feel that two hands do the best job. The idea is to rub the shortening into small bits that become coated with flour, not to cream the two together. You have blended sufficiently when the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs. \nUse icy cold water, not tap water. Add the water one tablespoon at a time, then mix it into the flour mixture with a fork. You have added enough when the dough sticks together in a ball. Too much water will make a sticky crust that is difficult to roll. Too little, and the crust will remain crumbly and hard to handle.\nWhen the dough is completely mixed, roll it into a ball with your hands. If making a two-crust pie, cut the ball in half. To begin rolling, flour the surface you will be working on. If your kitchen is tiny, clear off your largest flat surface (think dresser or desk) and worry about the clean-up later. Sprinkle the rolling pin with flour, place the dough ball on the surface and flatten it with the heel of your hand. Then begin working with the rolling pin. Always roll from the center outward, avoiding rolling over the piecrust's edge until the very end (continuously rolling the edge will make it thin and difficult to lift up). \nWhile the crust is still thick and easy to handle, occasionally lift it to make sure it is not sticking to the work surface. Sprinkle more flour underneath, if necessary. Hold an inverted pie dish over the crust to see when it has been rolled large enough. With a sharp knife, trim off the rough, cracked edge of the piecrust. A smooth, rounded edge will make the crust easier to lift. \nLift one edge of the crust over the other, lightly folding it in half or quarters. Then lift the folded crust and place it in the pie plate, unfolding it to cover the entire plate. Pat the crust gently over the\nsides of the plate and trim off the excess crust with a knife or kitchen scissors, making it even with the plate\'s edge. \nThis blueberry pie recipe is an excellent choice for celebrating the making of your pie crust. Make it now, while the blueberries are at their peak and the prices are extra low. It is the kind of fruit pie I love best: uncomplicated, beautiful to look at, and unquestionably delicious. Your friends will think you are a genius if you make it for them. If they are very close friends, you might consider giving them second helpings. In either case, be sure to squirrel away a second piece, disguised in crumpled aluminum foil, in the far recesses of the refrigerator before the whole pie vanishes.\nSUMMER BLUEBERRY PIE with LEMON POPPYSEED CRUST\nRegular or Lemon-Poppyseed pastry for 9-inch Two-Crust Pie (see recipe below) \n2/3 cup sugar \n1/3 cup all-purpose flour \n1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon \n6 cups fresh blueberries \n1 tablespoon lemon juice \n1 tablespoon butter \nPreheat oven to 425°. Prepare pastry as directed below. In a large bowl, mix sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Stir in blueberries and toss to combine. Place blueberry mixture into pastry-lined pie plate. Sprinkle with lemon juice. Dot with butter. Cover with top crust; press edges together to seal and (optional) flute the edges. Cut 2-3 small slits in top crust for steam to escape. Cover the crust edge with 2- to 3-inch strip of aluminum foil to prevent over-browning. Remove foil during last 15 minutes of baking. Bake 35 to 45 minutes or until crust is brown and juice begins to bubble through slits in crust. Makes 8 servings.\nFLAKY PIE CRUST\n(For a Two-Crust 9-inch Pie)\n2 cups all-purpose flour \n1 teaspoon salt \n2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons \nshortening, chilled\n4 to 5 tablespoons ice water \nCombine the flour and salt in a large bowl; cut shortening into flour mixture until particles resemble fresh bread crumbs. Sprinkle in water, 1 tablespoon at a time, tossing with fork until all flour is moistened. Gather pastry together and cut in half; shape halves into balls. Shape each ball into a flattened round on lightly floured board. Roll pastry 2 inches larger than inverted pie plate with floured rolling pin. Fold pastry into fourths; place in pie plate. Unfold and ease into plate, pressing firmly against bottom and side.\nFOR TWO-CRUST PIE: Turn desired filling into pastry-lined pie plate. Trim overhanging edge of pastry 1/2 inch from rim of plate. Roll other round of pastry. Fold into fourths and cut slits so steam can escape.\nFOR ONE-CRUST PIE: Cut ingredients for 2-crust pie in half and proceed as directed. Trim overhanging edge of pastry 1 inch from rim of plate. Fold and roll pastry under, even with plate; flute. Fill and bake as directed in recipe. \nFOR BAKED PIE SHELL: Preheat oven to 475°. Prick bottom and side thoroughly with fork. Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until light brown; cool.\nLEMON-POPPYSEED VARIATION: For 2-crust recipe, add 1 and 1/2 tablespoons sugar, 2 tablespoons poppyseeds, and 1 tablespoon chopped lemon zest to flour mixture. Add shortening and water as directed.
(04/17/01 6:21am)
April has been called the cruelest month, its fickle nature making fools of us all. Case in point, this week's snow forecasts on the heels of an 80-degree heat wave. Such a month demands some measure of stability. Familiar fare at the dinner table is a start -- for instance, quiche.\nQuiche is a savory, open-faced pie that begins with a few eggs, a cup or so of light cream and a crust. The rest is negotiable, allowing quiche to range from the pedestrian to the sublime depending on what else you throw in. \nWhile it is undeniably comfort food, I always associate quiche with spring and summer family picnics, on which occasions my mother predictably packed a basket full of muffin-tin sized bacon and Swiss quiches, garden mint-flecked fruit salad and soft molasses cookies.\nDespite my talent for eating quiche, my quiche-baking premiere was a dismal affair: The filling was bland, the crust -- soggy -- was reminiscent of wet cardboard, and a good third of the filling sloshed overboard as I slid the pie pan into the sizzling hot oven (it took close to a year to get all of it off). Foolishly overconfident because of the recipe\'s seeming simplicity, I had overlooked the finer points of production. They are brief, but essential.\nHere is what I learned the hard way. Foremost, use a generous hand to season the filling with salt and pepper. You will be recognized as a fine cook by most anyone if you learn how to properly season food. Develop a strong working relationship with your salt and pepper shakers and basic dishes such as quiche will sparkle like Keats\' prose. Under-seasoned, the same dish is the culinary equivalent of an Amway catalog. Sprinkle salt into your hand before sprinkling it into the quiche filling; this will give you greater control over the seasoning process as well as a better sense of how much is going into the dish.\nThe second fine point stems from understanding the foundation of quiche. The filling is essentially custard, which means that the goal is a softly-set, creamy filling. Cooked at too high a temperature, the filling will be hard, rubbery when cool and tasteless; too low, and the crust will be soggy. The solution is to prebake the crust (either homemade or store-bought) at a high temperature and cool it completely (to keep the crust crisp). To finish, reduce the oven temperature, add the filling and bake until the center is just set.\nThe sloshing is remedied by placing the unfilled, pre-baked pie crust (in its pan) on a baking sheet. Pour in the filling, then lift the entire baking sheet into the oven.\nIf you serve your quiche to others, you will inevitably encounter the zealotry of anti-fat crusaders. Eggs, cream and a buttery crust? It is an expected target. Those who choose to eschew even the slenderest sliver of this delicious classic are entitled to their opinions. But if said acquaintances are adamant in making you feel guilty for a few fleeting moments of gustatory happiness, cross them off all future guest lists. Enough said.\nEggs have received a bad rap for their fat and cholesterol. Two eggs have less fat than four ounces of skinless dark-meat chicken and are an excellent protein source. They are cheap, too. Additional fat and calories can be trimmed by substituting two egg whites for one of the eggs, replacing the cream with canned, evaporated skim milk, or eliminating the crust. The latter can be done for reasons of fatigue (it is one less thing to do) as much as for fat. Line the naked pie pan with aluminum foil and spray with nonstick cooking spray before pouring the filling; the pieces will lift out with ease and the foil can be peeled off.\nPARMESAN, PEPPER, AND CORN QUICHE\n1 homemade or frozen, thawed deep-dish pie crust\n4 large eggs\n1 and 1/4 cups half and half OR evaporated skim milk\n1 and 1/2 tablespoons fresh basil leaves or 1 and 1/2 teaspoons dried basil\n1 tablespoon all purpose flour\n1/2 teaspoon salt (or to taste)\n1 and 1/2 cups fresh corn kernels (cut from about 2 ears) or frozen, thawed\n1/2 cup finely chopped red bell pepper\n1/2 small onion, very finely chopped\n1/3 cup grated parmesan cheese\nPreheat oven to 425 degrees F. Prick the crust all over with a fork. Line it with foil and fill with dried beans or rice (these can be re-used for the same purpose). Bake 10 minutes. Remove from oven and carefully remove the weights and foil. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F.\nIn a large bowl whisk together the eggs, half and half, basil, flour, salt and pepper to taste until well-blended. Stir in the corn, bell pepper, onion and cheese. Place the prebaked crust on a baking sheet; pour filling into crust. Transfer baking sheet with quiche to oven. Bake until filling is slightly puffed and top is golden, about 50 minutes. Transfer to rack; cool to lukewarm (or refrigerate; quiche can be made up to a day in advance). Makes 6 servings.\nVARIATIONS:\nSAUSAGE LOVER\'S QUICHE: Follow recipe above but replace corn with 1 pound pork or turkey Italian sausage, cooked, drained of fat and crumbled.\nSPINACH AND DILL QUICHE: Follow recipe above but replace corn, peppers and onion with 1 10-ounce package frozen chopped spinach (thawed and squeezed of excess liquid), 4 finely chopped green onions and 2 tablespoons fresh chopped dill (or 2 teaspoons dried). Use parmesan (as directed above) or 4 ounces crumbled feta or goat cheese.\nTEX-MEX TWIST QUICHE: Follow recipe above but replace basil with 2 tablespoons cilantro, replace Parmesan with 2/3 cup shredded pepperjack or sharp cheddar cheese and add 2 teaspoons ground cumin and chopped jalapeno pepper to taste.
(04/03/01 4:39am)
The e-mail from my sister came last week with a three-word subject line: desperately seeking flavor. "I make dinner, I put it on my plate, eat two bites, then collapse from boredom," she wrote. "Every-thing I make these days tastes so bland, so blah, so … March. Send recipes forthwith."\nThe message represents sentiments felt in kitchens and dining rooms across the country, including my own, this time of year. The gastronomic pleasures of winter and summer feel equally distant, making the simplest quest for flavor as elusive as an escape from early spring's gray torrent of mid-semester paperwork, tax returns and fickle forecasts. I set to work compiling a short list of recipes for immediate dispatch as well as for a self-inflicted culinary kick in the pants.\nIn the process, I was reminded that the simplest preparations can be the most savory. The pasta recipe I am offering this week, similar to one I tasted at the Lark Creek Inn in Larkspur, Calif., proves that point and tops my list of anti-blah, flavor-bolstered recipes. I could happily eat it every day.\nThe leek is the aromatic star of the recipe. Leeks are usually behind-the-scenes contributors in pastas, but here their gently sweet flavor creates the foundation of a richly satisfying spring dish. If you have never cooked with leeks, this streamlined concoction is an excellent place to start.\nLocating leeks in the supermarket is a breeze; they look like green onions on steroids. Although leeks are available all year, they reach their peak in springtime. As you huddle in the chilly produce aisle, narrowly avoiding intermittent bursts of overhead water spray, remember this creed: bigger is not necessarily better. Large leeks can be tough, with a woody, flavorless core. Choose smaller, slender leeks to escape the flavor doldrums.\nLeeks are a member of the onion family and are typically sold with a significant portion of their long, dark leaves still attached. While pretty, the dark green leaves should be discarded or reserved for flavoring stocks and other soups (try chopping them up and stowing them in the freezer for a future spring soup).\nThe prize of any leek is the white and pale green portion. Ironically, this is also the dirtiest part of the vegetable. The problem is easily remedied: Cut off the dark green leaves and stem end, then cut the remaining light green and white end in half. Place the halves into a colander and flush with water, separating the layers of the leek to remove every last trace of grit.\nThe assertive piquancy of goat cheese is a perfect complement to the sweetness of the leeks and asparagus in this pasta. But if you are at odds with tangy goat products, substitute mild feta cheese, blue cheese or a soft herbed cheese such as Boursin or Rondele.\nWhen you place this dish on the table, take a moment to savor the intensely aromatic steam rising from the dish; it will wrap around you like a warm and fragrant shawl. Serve it with lots of warm crusty bread to mop up any sauce on your plate.\nSPRING FUSILLI PASTA with LEEKS AND ASPARAGUS\n1 bunch leeks (about 1 pound)\n12 ounces fusilli or other corkscrew pasta\n1 tablespoon butter\n1 pound asparagus, tough ends trimmed off, then cut diagonally into 2-inch pieces\n1 4-ounce package (4 ounces) soft goat cheese, crumbled*\n1 teaspoon dried or 1 tablespoon fresh chopped basil leaves\nCut off root and leaf ends from leeks. Discard any tough outer leaves. Cut each leek lengthwise in half. Transfer leeks to colander and rinse with cold water, separating leaves to remove all grit. Repeat process until all signs of dirt are removed. Drain well. In a large saucepot, prepare pasta in boiling salted water as package directs.\nMeanwhile, in nonstick 12-inch skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add leeks and cook until almost tender, about 5 minutes, stirring often. Stir in asparagus, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper; cook 5 minutes longer, stirring often. Add 1/3 cup water; cover and cook 3 to 5 minutes, until asparagus is tender-crisp.\nDrain pasta, reserving 3/4 cup pasta cooking water. Return pasta to saucepot. Add asparagus mixture, pasta cooking water, half of goat cheese, and the basil; toss well. Spoon into large serving bowl; sprinkle with remaining goat cheese and coarsely ground black pepper. Makes 4 servings.\n*NOTE: feta, blue or herbed soft cheese (e.g., Boursin or Rondele) can be substituted for goat cheese.
(03/06/01 5:07am)
People frequently ask me where I learned to cook, and by their expressions, I imagine they envision a cavern hidden deep under the city. There, a secret, benevolent cabal of home cooks preside, practicing the ancient rites of both spice mingling and time juggling. \n"In the kitchen," I always reply. They eye me with suspicion and disbelief.\nThe "why" of my cooking is equally elusive, but just as easily answered. I like it. Cooking is a creative energy release. I try to pass this basic premise along to kitchen-wary friends. Cooking lets you cut loose, get silly and trifle with folly. Our kindergarten teachers knew such forays were essential, hence the finger-painting and pipe cleaner sculptures. The finger-paints and pipe cleaners might be long gone, but not the need. \nThankfully, learning to cook can be fun from the start. Start by considering every recipe as a set of guidelines, not rules. A recipe is not an organic chemistry lab report. What matters most and least will come to light the longer you cook; none of us learned linguistic theory before learning the alphabet.\nUse your intuition, even at the baby-step stage, to determine whether another dash of Tabasco, 1/2 teaspoon of lemon zest or dash of curry will give a dish the zing you are after. Trust yourself. You have been eating all your life, making decisions about what is or is not to your liking since you spat strained peas from your high-chair perch.\nMistakes are common, catastrophes rare; revel in both. It means you have joined the worldwide fray of home cooking. Moreover, while successes make great dinners, disasters make magnificent stories. A squeeze of ketchup or hot fudge sauce will render almost anything edible, anyway. Keep your refrigerator stocked with both. \nContemplate french fries for your next flirtation with culinary empiricism. This particular french fry recipe uses the term "fry" loosely (the "fries" are roasted, bypassing bubbling vats of oil and the accompanying calories). It is also one of those preparations that take no time to make and tastes better than it has any right to taste. Keep it plain, or add some "zing" at will. Vary the zing from a restrained sprinkle of seasoned salt to the occasional frantic mingling of spices, the latter potent enough to terrify an alchemist. Make "no regrets" your motto and keep breath mints nearby.\nMy only words of caution for these excellent spuds are beware of browning. When white potatoes are cut, browning can occur as the result of oxidation. The exact details are technical but the solution is simple: Place the peeled and or cut potatoes in water as you work. Cut loose.\nROASTED FRIES with ZING\n1 1/2 lbs. russet (baking) potatoes (about 3 large), or yams (about 2 large) rinsed and patted dry\n3 tablespoons vegetable oil \n1/2 teaspoon salt\n1/4 teaspoon black pepper\nPreheat oven to 500 degrees. Cut potatoes lengthwise into 1/3-inch-thick slices, then cut into 1/3-inch-wide sticks (if using sweet potatoes, peel off skin; no need to peel skin if using russets). Immediately toss with oil, salt and pepper and optional seasonings in a large bowl, then spread sticks in one layer on a baking sheet. Bake in middle of oven 15 minutes. Loosen potatoes from bottom of pan with a metal spatula, then turn over and spread out again. Bake until crisp and golden brown on edges, about 10 minutes more. Makes four servings.\nTo further reduce fat: Place sliced potatoes in a heavy-duty Ziplock bag. Add the oil and shake until coated. Place coated potatoes on baking sheet and toss with seasonings (leave the extra oil in the bag).\n"Zing" Options\nAll of the following are excellent with either the sweet or russet potatoes.\nTex-Mex Zing: 1/2 package taco or fajita seasoning mix\nRanch Zing: 1/2 package dry ranch dressing mix\nThai Zing: 1/2 teaspoon bottled chili paste, 1/2 teaspoon curry powder, pinch of sugar, grated zest of 1 lime, squeeze of lime juice, 1 and 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro leaves\nMadras Zing: 1 teaspoon Garam Masala (an Indian spice blend), 1 clove minced garlic\nMoroccan Zing: 1/4 teaspoon each cinnamon, cardamom, cumin and ginger, and 2 teaspoons chopped mint or cilantro\nItalian Zing: 1 1/2 teaspoons Italian seasonings and (optional) 1/3 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese; use olive oil in place of vegetable oil
(02/22/01 5:29am)
SILKY SPICED PUMPKIN BISQUE\n2 tablespoons vegetable oil\n1 medium onion, chopped\n3 garlic gloves, minced\n3 cups canned solid-pack pumpkin\n2 cups canned vegetable broth\n2 teaspoons sugar\n1 teaspoon ground cumin\n1/2 teaspoon curry powder\n1/2 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper juice and grated zest of 1 lime\n1 11-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk\nHeat oil in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add onion and garlic. Saute until golden, about 10 minutes. Add pumpkin, broth, sugar, cumin, curry powder and crushed red pepper. Bring to boil. Reduce heat. Cover and simmer 5 minutes. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Return soup to pot and stir in lime juice and zest. Bring soup to simmer and whisk in coconut milk. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle soup into bowls. Makes 6 servings.\nWEEKNIGHT WHITE BEAN WINTER RAGOUT\n3 tablespoons olive oil\n3 large onions, chopped\n6 garlic cloves, minced\n1 3 1/4- to 3 1/2-pound butternut squash, peeled, seeded, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes\n1 15-ounce can vegetable broth\n1 tablespoon cider vinegar\n1 10-ounce bag cleaned spinach leaves, tough stems removed, leaves torn\n2 teaspoons dried rubbed sage\n3 15-ounce cans cannelloni (white kidney beans), rinsed, drained\n3/4 cup Kalamata olives, pitted, halved\n1 7-ounce can or jar roasted red bell peppers, drained and coarsely chopped non-vegan option: grated Parmesan cheese\nHeat oil in heavy large saucepan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add onions and garlic; saute until tender, about 10 minutes. Add squash; saute. Add broth and vinegar. Cover and simmer until squash is just tender, about 10 minutes. Mix spinach and sage into stew. Cover and cook until kale wilts, stirring occasionally, about eight minutes. Add beans, olives and roasted red peppers; stir until heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer ragout to large shallow bowl. Non-vegans may sprinkle with cheese. Serves 6.\nMOROCCAN VEGETABLES WITH COUSCOUS\n1 tablespoon olive oil \n1 large onion, chopped \n1 teaspoon cinnamon \n1/2 teaspoon allspice \n1 teaspoon ground coriander \n2 teaspoon cumin \n1/4 teaspoon cayenne \n4 carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces \n2 russet potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks \n1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded, cut into 1-inch chunks \n1 21-ounce can diced tomatoes, undrained\n1 15-ounce can vegetable broth\n2 small zucchini, cut into 1-inch pieces \n1 15-ounce can chickpeas \n1/2 cup chopped cilantro \n3 cup water\n1 and 1/2 cup couscous\nIn a large heavy pot, heat oil over medium-high heat. Stir in onion and cook for three minutes or until tender. Stir in spices and cook until aroma is released. Stir in carrots, potatoes and squash and toss to coat. Cook vegetables for five minutes. Stir in tomatoes with their juices and broth. If necessary add enough water so all vegetables are submerged. Bring to a simmer and cook for 20 minutes. Stir in zucchini and continue to cook for 20 more minutes. Stir in the chickpeas and cilantro; season with salt and pepper. In a medium saucepan, bring water to a boil; add couscous, remove from heat and cover with lid. After five minutes, remove lid and fluff couscous with fork. Serve vegetables with the hot couscous. Serves 4-6.\nCHOCOLATE PIE FOR EVERYONE\n1 12-ounce bag semisweet chocolate chips \n1/3 cup coffee liqueur (or 1/3 cup strong-brewed, cooled coffee)\n1 10-ounce package silken tofu \n1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract \n1 tablespoon honey \n1 prepared chocolate wafer crust \nPlace a small metal bowl over a saucepan with simmering water. Melt the chocolate and coffee liqueur in the bowl. Stir in vanilla. Combine the tofu, chocolate mixture and honey in blender jar. Liquefy until smooth. Pour filling into crust and refrigerate for two hours or until cool.
(02/22/01 5:23am)
The food pyramid isn't always constructed from the four main food groups, despite what elementary school teaches.\nAlthough nutritionists traditionally recommend a specific serving for each food group, the growing trend of vegetarianism, a diet omitting meat, and veganism, a diet omitting all animal products, has demanded a new foundation for healthy living.\nProfessor Victoria Getty, who teaches nutrition classes, said although she is not a vegetarian, a vegetarian diet can be healthy and easy to maintain with a little planning.\n"If you're eating vegetarian foods, then your eating pattern is based on fruits, vegetables and legumes, which are in themselves healthy foods," Getty said. "You can have lower fat and saturated fat, and also a good amount of vitamins."\nShe said folates, vitamins C and E, antioxidants, minerals and beta carotene all are abundant in a balanced vegetarian diet.\nDecreased risks of heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes and cancer are all benefits of a vegetarian diet, she added. But a vegetarian diet can be more complicated to maintain, and because animals provide many essential nutrients, Getty said vegetarians must concentrate more on getting vitamins and minerals from supplemental sources.\nTess Hannah, head baker at Bloomingfoods, 3220 E. Third St., has been a vegetarian since she was a child and has been a vegan for a year. To improve her limited diet, she takes a supplement called acidopholis, which she said is good for the intestines. She said she also takes a multi-vitamin to ensure her body is getting a variety of vitamins and minerals.\n"I feel more empowered as far as control over my diet," she said. "I pay more attention to what I'm eating. I've been vegetarian since I was 12, but now I feel like I'm really thinking about what I'm eating, and it makes me feel better physically and mentally."\nShe said Bloomingfoods offers many items to help her, and others sharing her dietary needs, eat healthier. They have sandwiches made with blackened or baked tofu, and all the bread is vegan. There's a case containing vegetarian food, much of which happens to be vegan. She said the offerings range from steamed broccoli to hummus, to vegan macaroni and cheese, falafel, lo mein, tofu and soy milk.\nHannah said she is motivated not only by the health benefits, but also by her concern for the environment and society.\n"The advantage is you're supporting a really good cause that's basically saying that you don't support the exploitation of animals -- that's one half, that it's good for animals and the planet," she said. "It's also good for you because it's more pure, since you're not eating a bunch of additives that will clog your intestines."\nJim Besson, foods manager of Collins Center, said he agreed with Hannah that the absence of meat is only one side of the vegetarian lifestyle. He has been a vegetarian for 25 years and has helped increase the vegan and vegetarian offerings in Collins.\n"I thought I could become a better world citizen by not eating meat," he said. "In the last five years, we've realized what an advantage it is to have this option (in Collins) because it brings a lot of students who are socially conscious. Being vegetarian is just a part of the whole, just the common denominator, just one facet of their lifestyle."\nHe said Collins has been offering vegetarian options since the late 1970s, although then the only option was a vegetarian omelet. The dining hall now offers more than 50 vegan and vegetarian entrees and more than 30 vegan soups. \n"In the University, when they began closing places, they never touched Collins because they realized IU has to have an option for vegetarians and vegans, and more people are increasingly expecting that option," he said. "People may choose this school because of this option."\nHannah said she thinks Bloomington does a fair job of offering places that support her alternative lifestyle, but said she does experience discouragement because her options are limited.\n"There's not a lot of restaurants in town (that offer vegan dishes)," Hannah said. "My friends and I don't go out to eat a lot because there aren't a lot that offer a variety of vegan food.\n"But I look at the disadvantages as an opportunity," she added. "When I find I can't eat something, it makes me feel really good when I can overcome the challenge of eating vegan."\nGetty said an essential consideration of the vegetarian or vegan lifestyle is combining plant food, something that is abundant at the numerous ethnic restaurants in town.\n"Animal products automatically give you high protein, but vegetarians need to get their protein by combining plant foods, and you can do that easily with some planning," she said. "A bean burrito is combining legumes and grains. Stir fries are served over rice, which combine vegetables and carbohydrates"
(02/21/01 4:08pm)
For my entire childhood, I had a week's notice of my dinner fare. Every Saturday, my mother plunked a pile of cookbooks and her overstuffed recipe box on the dining room table and mapped out a week of dinner menus before heading to the local co-op. It helped her manage her budget, shopping and sanity, but left her open to scrutiny.\n"Welsh rabbit? What's that?" I quizzed her, when, at about age 6, the odd entree item was posted on the kitchen corkboard. Visions of Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail, braised or boiled, came to mind.\n"Not Rabbit, rare-bit, and Welsh as in 'from Wales,' dear."\n"Whales?" I squeaked. The bunnies turned to blubber and baleen.\n"Wales, the country," she sighed, eyeing my blank expression and returning it with one of her exasperated "yikes, what are they not teaching you in school" looks. \n"It's cheese, it's toast, you'll like it," she assured.\nI loved it. Thick slabs of San Francisco sourdough or sturdy wheat bread, crisply toasted before being napped in a melted blanket of sharp Cheddar cheese. Welsh rarebit is the English pub equivalent of fondue and a busy mother's fast food salvation. The list of ingredients, including cheese and butter, might make pious nutritionists recoil in horror. But take another look at the measurements -- small. Room can be made in a balanced diet for an occasional smattering of such richness. \nAnd balance, as the great American food writer MFK Fisher wrote more than a half century ago, need not be a requirement for each meal. Such a strategy inevitably leads to dinner dissatisfaction, if not outright despair. A truly "balanced" diet is more likely achieved by aiming for week-long balance. \nIf you view fresh fruits and vegetables as punishment (stripped, steamed, blanched -- bleah) when partnered with austere entrees, try them alongside Welsh rarebit. The contrast is enlivening. Such was the case when Welsh rarebit appeared on my mother's menu. My siblings and I were bamboozled into eating everything from brussels sprouts to beets if melted cheese took center stage.\nLike all elementary dishes, the level of Welsh rarebit's delectability varies directly with the quality of ingredients. It is still excellent on the cheap, but steer clear of wimpy white bread -- it is too feeble to sustain the weight of the cheese. Any crusty bread, whole wheat, rye or the remnants of a baguette will work.\nFor snap, I reach for a jar of roasted red peppers. These were once something of a luxury product in both price and availability, but no longer. Find them in the canned vegetable section of most any supermarket for an average of $1.50 per jar or can. To add them to the Welsh rarebit, drain, slice into strips and place them on the warm toast just before covering with the melted cheese. Bliss. \nMelt butter in saucepan; add mustard and beer, and bring to a simmer. Add the cheese and salt and pepper to taste; as soon as cheese melts, remove saucepan from heat. Pour over toast and serve as is or place under preheated broiler to brown (about 15-20 seconds). Serve immediately. Makes 2 servings (recipe can be doubled). \nOPTIONS: Place a few strips of jarred roasted red peppers on the toast just before adding the cheese. Roasted asparagus spears, eggplant slices or a thin slice of ham are also welcome additions.\nWelsh Rarebit\n• 2 tablespoons butter\n• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (or any other good mustard)\n• Salt and pepper\n• 1/4 cup beer (white wine or milk may be substituted)\n• 4 ounces grated cheddar or double gloucester cheese\n• 2 thick slices sturdy bread, toasted\nMelt butter in saucepan; add mustard and beer, and bring to a simmer. Add the cheese and salt and pepper to taste; as soon as cheese melts, remove saucepan from heat. Pour over toast and serve as is or place under preheated broiler to brown (about 15-20 seconds). Serve immediately. Makes 2 servings (recipe can be doubled).
(02/06/01 4:56pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>My grumpy, cynical side longs to dismiss Valentine's Day as the Madison Avenue-produced frenzy of fluff I know it to be. But the strength of my testy convictions is curiously and invariably out-muscled each Feb. 14 by my softer, squishier side. After all, how could a winter's day dedicated to the sanctioned consumption of chocolate be all bad?
An old French proverb proclaims that "Without bread, without wine, love is nothing." Chocolate should have been added to the list, but the sentiment is solid: sharing food with your intended crystallizes feelings of love, consistently packing far more symbolic punch on Valentine's Day than flowers, jewelry and perfume combined.
A confection made by you is far weightier than any sampler selection of cocoa-flavored nut chews from the quickie mart. My suggestion? Stick with the chocolate theme, but maximize its inherent bravura. Make chocolate pots de creme.
Pots de creme (pronounced "poh duh krehm") are fancy, individual cups of custard. In lay terms, it is the most delicious chocolate pudding ever. Silky, seductive and distinctly sublime, pots de creme are at once terrifically elegant and undeniably comforting. Every silken spoonful articulates, "I love you." Savoring the leftovers says, "I love me."
Displeasure is not a possibility with pots de creme; I can still remember the ecstasy of my first taste of the confection more than a decade ago. The recipe is a classic for Valentine's Day and any other special occasion because it yields divine results and necessitates few ingredients, no fancy equipment and minimal preparation.
Some pots de creme recipes require a two-stage cooking process, a stir on the stovetop followed by a bake in the oven. I have eliminated the second step for two reasons. First, I am lazy; if a recipe can be simplified, I make it so. Second, baking the pots de creme limits the presentation possibilities to custard cups and ramekins. Cooked on stovetop alone, the intense chocolate emulsion can be poured into any whimsical container: a champagne flute, a delicate china teacup or possibly an espresso cup and saucer. Beg and borrow from friends as necessary.
The opportunity for folly in this recipe is limited and easily avoided. A small amount of hot cream must be added to the egg yolks rather than all the hot cream at once. This brings the egg yolks to the same temperature as the cream gradually. If you dump and stir all the cream and egg yolks at once, witness a grand slam egg scramble, guaranteed. Once the egg-cream mixture is added to the remaining cream, keep the heat very low to avoid curdling.
You can top the pots de creme with whipped cream, a drizzle of fruit sauce or rich caramel. If you are particularly inspired, make tiny meringues with the leftover egg whites.
CHOCOLATE POTS DE CREME
1 cup half and half 3 egg yolks, lightly beaten with a fork6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped or1 6-ounce bag semisweet chocolate chips*1 teaspoon vanilla extract
In a medium saucepan set over medium heat, bring the cream and milk to a boil. In a small bowl, whisk yolks with a fork. Whisk about a third of the boiling cream mixture into the yolks. Return remaining cream mixture to a boil and whisk in yolk mixture. Continue to cook, over low heat, whisking constantly, another 15 or 20 seconds, until slightly thickened. Pour cream mixture into a medium bowl; add chocolate and vanilla. Whisk until smooth. (If adding one of the flavor options below, stir it in at this point). Pour into custard cups or dish of choice. Refrigerate until cooled and set (at least 3-4 hours; can be made a day ahead). Makes 4 servings.
*NOTE: The better the quality of the chocolate, the better the pots de creme.
LIQUEUR POTS DE CREME: Stir in 1 tablespoon of liqueur, brandy or bourbon.
ORANGE POTS DE CREME: Stir in 1 and 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped grated orange zest.
JAVANAISE POTS DE CREME: Add 2 teaspoons instant espresso or coffee powder to hot cream mixture before adding chocolate and vanilla.
AZTECA POTS DE CREME: Add 1/8 teaspoon chili powder, a pinch of cayenne pepper and 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon.
(01/23/01 4:21am)
In the way from Indiana to my California home, my carry-on luggage was not noteworthy : an extra sweater, a good mystery book, a snack. \nBy contrast, the California to Indiana leg of the journey is all luggage, all the time. Obsessed with bringing back cooking staples from assorted local grocery stores, I resemble a packmule headed to an isolated mountain outpost. \n"Are there no food stores in Indiana?" my brother typically sighs as he helps my father heave 50 pounds worth of "staples" into the trunk. Yes, but how can I resist filling my Indiana cupboard with all of the comforts of my western home? \nSo when I toddled through the airport with a case of coconut milk a few trips ago, I acknowledged my folly but sallied forth, regardless. Like clockwork, the metal detector inspectors pulled me aside to inspect my case of cans. \n"Coconut milk, eh?" the guard leered with a crooked, yellowing grin. "Somebody sure loves the pina coladas, heh-heh." I waited for him to zip my bag shut, mumbled "yeah, party on," and waddled away with as much dignity as I could muster. \nI erred in hauling a case of coconut milk from California to Indiana; the same brand is available at every major supermarket in town. But I was right to load up on the celestial stuff. Pina coladas were not on my agenda (they are made with sweetened coconut cream, anyway, not unsweetened coconut milk). Quick and simple ethnic cuisine was and is my aim with coconut milk purchases. If your taste buds are likewise enlivened with the kaleidoscopic flavors of Thai, Vietnamese or Latin American cooking, you might consider stowing a can or two of coconut milk in your own cupboard. \nCoconut milk might sound too exotic to be a staple. Not so. If your eating experiences have been even mildly adventurous, you have likely sampled coconut milk in multiple preparations. Think back to your last visit to a Thai restaurant. More than likely, coconut milk was a key ingredient. The silky taste and texture offers a premium setting to full flavors and strong spices such as curry, ginger and chilis. \nCoconut milk is made by combining grated coconut meat with boiling water. The mixture is then strained to release as much of the liquid from the meat as possible. The result is a creamy milk-like product as typical to Southeast Asian and Latin American cooking as broth, milk and cream are to Western dishes. Because coconut milk can separate at high temperatures, add it at the end of the cooking time, off the heat. Once opened, you can refrigerate it (in a separate container) for three to four days, or freeze it. \nYou will find coconut milk in one of two locations in supermarkets: the ethnic/international foods section or alongside powdered and canned milks. Many Asian markets sell it, too. The prices range from 69 cents to $1.89. Any brand is fine, but your best bets are brands without added preservatives. Two of the leading national brands also produce "light" coconut milk. This can be used in place of regular coconut milk with the bonus of marginal fat and minimal calories. The light varieties lack some of the richness of regular coconut milk, but do not lack flavor. Here are some fast ways to use coconut milk. Do not be surprised by the "fast food" options. Even serious cooks take shortcuts. Before the kitchen door swings shut, they might have done some things -- or used some ingredients -- that they will never tell you about. \nSWEET-TART SAUCE: \nUse with vegetables (e.g., steamed or stir-fried, fresh or frozen carrots, broccoli, green beans, eggplant, etc.), fish, firm tofu or boneless chicken breast. In saucepan, combine 1 cup vegetable or chicken broth with 2 tablespoons favorite chutney; reduce to about 1/2 cup. Dissolve 1 tablespoon cornstarch in small amount of cold stock and add to boiling mixture. Stir just until thickened. Remove from heat, stir in 1/4 cup coconut milk. Add soy sauce to taste. \nFAST FOOD THAI-STYLE CHICKEN OR VEGETABLE SOUP: \nIn a saucepan, boil a 19-ounce can of chicken soup (preferably with rice or pasta), 2 teaspoons fresh lime juice, 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice, pinch of sugar, 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro, 1/8 teaspoon each grated ginger and chili paste (or curry powder). Remove from heat, stir in 1/4 cup coconut milk. Serves one as an entree or two as a soup course. \nEAST MEETS MIDWEST SPICY SHRIMP/TOFU/CHICKEN & NOODLES: \nIn a large pot of slated water, boil 8 ounces linguine or spaghetti. Cook according to package directions. Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan set over medium-low heat, simmer 1/2 pound either cleaned, shelled shrimp or diced uncooked chicken breasts or diced firm tofu in 1 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth for 6-7 minutes. (Shrimp and chicken will be just cooked through.) Drain pasta and add to pot along with 1 cup chunky salsa, 1 teaspoon garlic powder, 1 teaspoon ground ginger and 1 teaspoon curry paste or powder. Cook two minutes longer. Add a cup of coconut milk and season with salt and pepper to taste. Optional: sprinkle with fresh cilantro leaves or sliced green onions. \nSPICED MANGO BEEF: 1 pound lean ground beef 1 medium onion, chopped 3 cloves garlic, chopped 1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped 1 teaspoon EACH cinnamon, ground cumin and chili powder \n1 16-ounce can diced tomatoes, undrained 2 ripe mangoes, peeled, pitted and cut into chunks \n1/3 cup canned coconut milk \nCook and stir beef, onion and garlic in large skillet set over medium heat until beef is light brown; drain off extra fat. Stir in jalapeno, spices, tomatoes and mango. Heat to boiling; reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 10 minutes. Stir in coconut and heat 3-4 minutes longer. Serve (optional: serve over hot cooked rice and sprinkle with sliced green onions or cilantro). Makes 4 servings.
(01/09/01 4:28am)
"Remind me where it is you attend school?" my California acquaintances inquire during my bi-annual sojourns home to the West coast.\nAfter five years of replying "Indiana," the abbreviated responses have remained static: in summer, "Hot!" and in winter, "Cold!" The utterances are typically delivered with the force of profound revelation accompanied by the smirking condescension of an older sibling informing a younger sibling there is no Santa Claus. \nLittle do they know that while "grim" often defines Midwest midwinter weather, it does not typify my accompanying mood. \nNatives of idyllic weather (myself once included) miss the celebration of survival, the joy derived from minor feats such as making it through a winter's day without careening headlong into a snowbank. \nHence, when sidewalks freeze over and forecasts range from "dark bleak" to "bright bleak," I relish the consequent pleasure of small events I once took for granted as a California girl: dry socks, sidewalk steam vents, nonskid soles and making it home, unscathed, to savor central heating, slippers and a quick skillet supper. \nOne such celebratory supper is a simplified, stovetop cassoulet, a dish that champions home comfort. It sounds like "casserole" and, similarly, it is an amalgamation of multiple ingredients baked ensemble. \nCassoulet is a rich, delectable concoction of goose confit, meats and beans cooked slowly in an earthenware pot.\nThe dish hales from Languedoc, part of the ancient land of Occitania, which includes all of southwestern France and whose language was the langue d'Oc, the language of the troubadours. The Languedoc can be divided into three gastronomic regions: the Languedoc Mediterenee (think garlic, olive oil and herbs); the Roussillon or Pays Catalan (couple the olive oil with the lusty rustic flavors of ham and sausage); and the Languedoc Toulousain, home of cassoulet, where olive oil yields to goose fat and the dishes are hearty, meaty and earthy.\nThe flavor of authentic cassoulet is extraordinary and complex. Regrettably, the same holds true for the preparation, rendering it beyond the realm of most weeknight possibilities. Moreover, goose fat is markedly absent from my, and most every other American's, pantry. For these reasons, an efficient rendering seems more than justified. \nMy streamlined cassoulet is not a complete break from the original. According to several sources, everyone in Languedoc who makes cassoulet passionately feels theirs is the authentic version, but every recipe is slightly different. Consider this recipe one permutation of many. I make no claims of authenticity, but am passionate about the contribution of this undemanding dish to the small thrills of winter.\n
(12/06/00 4:06am)
Along with the trimming of the tree, the four-hour long Christmas-morning gift opening ritual and the carols played by my sister on our old upright piano, one of the most stable memories of my childhood Christmases is that of my mother bursting into tears on Boxing Day.\nFor the unacquainted, Boxing Day is Dec. 26. It originated in England in the middle of the 19th century under Queen Victoria and became a holiday during which boxes were filled with gifts and money for servants and tradespeople. It is still celebrated in Britain, Canada and other Commonwealth nations and is typically spent with family, friends and the sharing of plenty of good food and cheer.\nMy Winnipeg-born and bred mother annually felt compelled to make Boxing Day a memorable fete for at least 50-75 of our friends and neighbors. While Christmas was always a lazy day in our house, centered on bonbons and new books by the fire, Boxing Day was an all action adventure. From the crack of dawn, vacuums roared, mixers whirred and the detritus of the day before was crammed inside every available inch of drawer, closet and cupboard space.\nThe strain of balancing the roles of working mother, Santa Claus, maid, caterer and hostess extraordinaire, all with three little kids in tow, inevitably culminated in Mom's tears of exhaustion. But with several hugs from us kids, a few kisses from Dad and ample fortification provided by multiple, potent cups of Earl Grey tea, she was soon recharged and primed for the final acts of party preparation.\nAnd every year was an extraordinary party. At the center of the seemingly infinite varieties of culinary treats was a magnificent slab of English spiced beef, surrounded by a panoply of pickles, chutneys and paper-thin triangles of rye and pumpernickel bread. The recipe was passed down from my maternal grandmother. The instructions offered no shortcuts. Come the first of December, a 15-pound roast must be rubbed with a dizzying array of spices ranging from cloves to salt-peter, then sealed in an enormous bowl for a month's worth of "development" to be ready for Boxing Day.\nThe morning of the 26th, the aromatic beef was slow-roasted for 2-3 hours. The majestic effect was a spice-crackled, blackened crust, carved to reveal a succulent pink interior so tender it crumbled. Leftovers made ambrosial sandwiches, but only a few scraps typically survived the Boxing Day revelry.\nMy final recipe of the semester is very loosely inspired by my spicy memories of Boxing Days past. The month-long preparation has been reduced to 20 minutes, but this particular combination of spices delivers the same piquant punch, just right for shocking your taste buds out of a sugar-induced lethargy. It is not for the faint of heart or of palate, but why not be bold for holidays?\nMADRAS SPICY BEEF (or VEGETARIAN LENTIL) ORZO\n1 pound extra lean ground beef (see vegetarian option below)\n2 tablespoons minced garlic\n1 and 1/2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger\n1 generous pinch red pepper flakes (or to taste)\n1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom (optional)\n2 and 1/2 teaspoons curry powder\n8 ounces orzo (rice-shaped) pasta\n2 cups canned beef broth\n1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes, drained\n1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro\nSaute beef in a heavy large skillet until cooked through, breaking up with back of spoon, about five-six minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer beef to bowl.\nReduce heat to medium. Add garlic, ginger and chili to same skillet and saute two minutes. Add cardamom, curry powder and orzo and stir to one minute. Add broth and bring mixture to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and cook until orzo is tender and most of broth is absorbed, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking on bottom of skillet, about 15 minutes. Return beef to skillet and mix in.\nSeason to taste with salt and pepper.\nMound pilaf on large platter. Garnish with tomato and cilantro and serve. Makes four servings.\nVEGETARIAN OPTION: Substitute 1 and 1/2 cups cooked lentils for the groundbeef and vegetable broth for the beef broth.
(11/21/00 4:21am)
I need look no farther than my brother to know that culinary innovation is not always welcome during the holidays. He turned ashen the year I made a pumpkin cheesecake, recoiled in horror when parsnips and rutabagas made their way into the mashed potatoes and could not be shaken from his malaise the year my mother and I stuffed the bird with dried cherry and pecan-flecked wild rice, instead of my grandmother's white bread and sage dressing. \n This year, he is spending the holiday at his mother-in-law's home. He loves her traditional Japanese cooking, which rivals that of the Food Network's "Iron Chefs." But when we last talked, he expressed his sense of loss at the anticipated absence of green Jell-o salad.\nHence, this is an un-Thanksgiving article, devoted to the humble souls everywhere who cherish their family's traditional holiday fare and do not want it mucked up with pumpkin sorbet, shaved beet and goat cheese salad and Tahitian-style Turkey.\nWhat follows instead is a recipe for the post-Thanksgiving muddle, when all that was eaten the day before is so confused in your memory, so transmuted and distorted, that you can only describe it synthetically. Your palate, partially paralyzed from the joyful celebration of infinite fudge and Chex mix, needs a revitalizing tonic before the commencement of the next act of Thanksgiving dining drama. It needs an intermezzo smoothie.\nExcuse yourself from your hosts or guests Friday morning or afternoon. Offer to run to the store to pick up some more cranberry sauce or caramel apple dip. Once at the supermarket, make a beeline to the produce section. Bag a lime, a small banana, two plump navel oranges and a ripe mango (smell it -- if it is soft to the touch and has a heady, tropical perfume, it is ripe). Cruise by the dairy section, picking up an 8-ounce container of vanilla yogurt as you pass. Curtail your shopping adventure with the purchase of a bag of mixed berries in the frozen foods section.\nOnce home, make for the blender. Cut the oranges in half; squeeze all the juice directly into the blender. Cut the lime in half. Put one of the halves aside for future use, then cut the remaining lime into pieces, peel and all; add this to the orange juice. Cut up three quarters of a cup of the mango and add it along with the yogurt, half of the banana, and cup of the mixed frozen berries. Blend like mad on the highest speed until smooth.\nLocate two of the prettiest glasses in the house and pour the smoothie inside each. Offer the second smoothie to the person who cooked the previous day's feast. If that person is you, bequeath the second smoothie to the head dishwasher. If you both cooked and cleaned up after the Thanksgiving feast, drink both of the smoothies, leave the blender in the sink and spend the rest of your day with your feet propped up. Happy Holidays.
(11/07/00 4:03am)
Not long ago, in a graduate student lounge, the conversation turned to the subject of sweet potatoes. It was a warm autumn afternoon and we were eating a collective lunch of pretzels, yogurt, microwaved entrees and leftover Halloween candy. The conversation began as a series of pleasant reminiscences. As it evolved, it turned ugly, a squabble over the penultimate preparation method of the venerable vegetable.\n"A casserole is the only way, loaded with brown sugar and layered with pecans," one person insisted. "No, no, no, sauteed in butter with a lots of maple syrup," another demanded. "Marshmallows, lots of marshmallows," others sighed. Several purists recoiled, asserting that no true aficionado would pollute their potatoes, hence baked is best. A Halloween candy-induced sugar high finally quelled our bickering, allowing us to agree to disagree. Perhaps people should make whatever sweet potato recipe fate calls out to them to make, we decided.\nAnd sweet potatoes are exactly what you should make now that it's nippy outside. Sweet potatoes are soul-satisfying as well as body-nourishing (they are loaded with beta carotene, vitamin C and fiber) and require nothing more of the home chef than turning on the oven and administering a few fork-pokes.\nTo bake a sweet potato, preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Gently scrub any dirt off the skin of the potato, poke several times with a fork, then place on a foil-lined baking sheet, pan or dish. In an hour, you will have a tender treasure, lightly caramelized in its own syrup. A faster alternative, but a bit more work, is mashed sweet potatoes. Simply peel sweet potatoes, cut into large pieces and boil in water. When tender, drain and mash the sweet potatoes with butter, milk and a dash of ground ginger. If you are lucky enough to have some real maple syrup, add a tablespoon or two. Sweet potatoes prepared this way are irresistible.\nFor the experimental, especially those looking for a less sweet option for their sweet potatoes, I recommend a really easy recipe of sweet potatoes and black bean chili. My first encounter with this combination was at the Good Earth restaurant on the west side of the University of California at Berkeley campus. I ordered the "soup" of the day and was treated to one of the most delicious concoctions my teenaged palate ever encountered: a sumptuous, spicy chili, thick with black beans, vegetables and the surprise addition of diced sweet potatoes. I ordered a second bowl before I finished the first.\nMy rendition takes the sweet potato out of the chili and puts it underneath, a contrasting bed to a blanket of zesty chili. It takes about an hour to cook, but it is untended cooking time that can be used for other activities such as flinging oneself on the sofa. The black bean chili is idiot-proof -- open a few cans, give a quick stir, and let simmer while you curl up and relish the cozy scents emanating from the kitchen. The sweet potato and jalapeno pepper-sparked chili combination is certain to please you after a long weekday.\nMy skillet pork dish with sweet potatoes and apples has the same effect. Simmering the pork chops in apple cider renders them fork-tender, rich with flavor while slim on fat and calories. An added charm is the inviting aroma of cinnamon and cloves, precursors to the soon-to-come winter wonderland of heartwarming dishes. One bite of the trinity of pork, sweet potatoes and apples and you know this is real food, a much-needed reprieve from microwave meals, drive-through dinners and vending machine snacks.
(10/25/00 11:25pm)
When I was growing up in the San Francisco Bay area, I spent many spring weekends with my friend Gigi down at Half Moon Bay. There, about an hour south of San Francisco, her grandparents owned a small farm nestled between the craggy coastline and purple hills. The farm was kinder-heaven, replete with endless hiding places, ponies, pie-laden kitchen windowsills and an expansive jungle of a vegetable garden.\nPeas were an important local crop and her grandparents let us pick all that we wanted from the garden. And because they were as sweet as candy, we did.\nIt took a fair spell to shell enough peas for our dinner, especially since Gigi and I snacked shamelessly as we worked. Gigi's grandmother managed to wrestle a few bowlfuls of the peas from our clutches, which she then transformed into delectable dishes that made my schoolgirl knees buckle. Peas sauteed in sweet butter with fresh herbs and shallots, silky pea soup laced with cream and a sprinkling of bacon and a sumptuous goat cheese tart topped with blanched peas and toasted hazelnuts were but a few of her artful creations.\nThe memory of those spring dishes makes me thankful for the pea paradox. Although the ideal pea is picked at the peak of spring, such perfection eludes supermarket shoppers. The reason is simple: peas are past their prime within hours of harvest, quickly losing their sweetness and gaining a flavorless starchiness. Unless you live near an excellent farmer's market or grow your own peas, it is rare that fresh peas will live up to their potential.\nThat said, I feel my endorsement for frozen tiny peas has merit. They are uniformly small and flavorful, shelled with a speed Gigi and I were never able to match, then blanched, chilled and frozen in a whirl that I once witnessed in a vegetable-freezing plant. Hence the vegetable you might associate with spring's now-vanished gardens is actually a first-rate dinner option for these evenings now cloaked in the coolness of autumn.\nRemember these two maxims as you head to the freezer section of the supermarket: First, it is worth paying an extra 50 cents for "petite" peas. The regular frozen peas are larger, starchier and devoid of taste; a few extra coins purchase a world of difference. Second, do not follow the cooking directions on the back of the package, which instruct you to boil the life out of the poor peas. Frozen peas are lightly blanched before packaging, so you only need to defrost and warm. I recommend placing the thawed peas in a skillet along with a smidgen of butter, olive oil or broth; warm over medium heat for a few minutes, adding a pinch of fresh or dried herbs such as dill, mint or thyme.\nMore ambitious cooks can try my orzo risotto. Orzo is a small, rice-shaped pasta. The pasta is not drained; instead it absorbs a flavorful combination of broth and wine. You must keep stirring with high heat and a delicate balance between orzo and liquid, the danger of scorching is high unless the elbow grease is constant. The cooking time (less than 10 minutes) is over before you know it. The result is velvety and rich, made even more so with the addition of Parmesan cheese, a sprinkling of toasted almonds and the delicate flavor of the peas. The dish can be made heartier with the addition of cooked chicken, seafood or bacon, but I am partial to serving it plain. Adding to the pea paradox, the dish is inexpensive but tastes anything but that. Enjoy!\nParmesan & petite pea orzo risotto with thyme and toasted almonds\n
(10/10/00 5:46am)
The making of a good stew depends less on your talent and more on your will. More specifically, are you willing to let go and create disorder in the kitchen? \nTake my friend Darah, for example. Darah is a baking marvel. She is the Muhammad Ali of the convection oven, pitying the fool who tries to outdo her on chocolate dacquoise, strawberry charlottes and Chantilly cream-filled brandy snaps. But she is not a stew-maker. She follows recipes the way literalists follow the letter of the law and measures herbs and spices as exactly as if she were handling dosages of toxic chemicals. This methodology yields perfect pastry, but, as Darah is the first to laughingly admit, leads to sterile stews. \nThe "kitchen as clinic" approach will not do for stew. Stew is a flexible dish, essentially a braise made with pieces of meat, poultry or fish rather than whole birds, whole fish or large cuts of meat. Stews can be divided into two categories: brown stews, where the meat is cooked in a bit of fat before adding any liquid to the pot, and white stews, where liquid is added to the meat and vegetables without any initial cooking. Note that "white" and "brown" refer to whether the meat or poultry has been browned, not the final color of the sauce. Thus a beef stew made with red wine, without browning the meat, is still a white stew, even though the final dish is dark brown.\nRegardless of political leanings, great stew-making requires liberal zeal. Locate a stew recipe that sounds appealing, then use it as a point of orientation only, a stovetop roadmap for proportion, flavor, technique and timing. From there, exert free will and jocularity. You want more garlic? Add more garlic. You want to use wine instead of water? Do it. The text calls for oregano but are you wild for basil? Make the change, adding a half teaspoon more than specified. Imbibe the cooking liquid from time to time, adding a pinch of this here, a dash and a dollop of that there. And poke your nose in the pot, too; breathe the heady aroma of your creation and smirk at your skill.\nNot all stews are made on the stovetop, nor are all stews made with meat. Case in point is this week's offering, an oven-roasted vegetable ragout. "Ragout" is simply another name for a thick, rich stew. It is derived from the French verb "ragoter," meaning "to stimulate the appetite." There will be no question of that function when you pull this well-seasoned ensemble from the oven. Because the technique for this stew is unconventional (roasted), an even more fitting name might be "galimafree." The traditional meaning of the word is "medieval stew," but in modern French, it translates roughly as "mess." Oh, to always have such a mess on a chilly autumn evening.\nFurthermore, it is a mess whose flavors intensify with time. Even if you are cooking for only one or two, make the whole recipe. It will gratify you for days, and if its delights diminish before it is done, freeze it for future repasts. I suggest teaming the ragout with creamy polenta, but couscous, rice, mashed potatoes, toasted crusty bread or pasta are equally agreeable. Make your chosen accompaniment while the ragout roasts. Then tuck in and triumph in your mess.\nOVEN ROASTED AUTUMN RAGOUT\n2 medium zucchini, cut into 1-inch pieces\n2 medium onions, cut into 1/2-inch wedges\n1 large red or yellow bell pepper, cut into 1/2-inch-wide strips\n2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled, cut into small dice\n2 medium new potatoes, unpeeled, cut into small dice\n4 large garlic cloves, crushed\n2 tablespoons all-purpose flour\n1 and 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme, crumbled\n1 pound plum tomatoes, cut into quarters\n1 tablespoon olive or vegetable oil\n2 tablespoons soy sauce\n1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce\n1 4-ounce package blue cheese crumbles (optional)\nPreheat oven to 500 F. In a large bowl, toss together the zucchini, onions, bell pepper, sweet potatoes, new potatoes, garlic, flour and thyme.\nTransfer mixture to a large shallow baking pan, spreading evenly; top with tomatoes and drizzle with oil, soy sauce and Worcestershire sauce. Roast vegetables in middle of oven 25 minutes, or until they begin to brown. Remove from oven; stir and season to taste with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer vegetables to serving dish (if desired). Serve in bowls, over polenta (recipe below) and sprinkle with blue cheese. Makes 6 servings.\nEASY, CREAMY POLENTA\n2 and 1/2 cups milk\n2 cups polenta or yellow cornmeal\n1 14.5-ounce can low sodium chicken or vegetable broth\n3 and 1/3 cups water\nPour milk into a medium saucepan; gradually mix in cornmeal until smooth. In a separate medium saucepan, heat the broth with the water over high heat until boiling. Whisk hot broth mixture into cornmeal mixture. Heat to boiling over medium-high heat and cook polenta, stirring constantly, 5 minutes or until thick. Serve with ragout. Makes 6 servings.
(09/26/00 1:13pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The day my mother first made fried chicken for me was the day I learned that the kitchen is a room of enigma.
You might read this and think I am referring to the magical transformation of ingredients into a sublime product or the mysterious coalescence of abstract ideas and whatever happens to be handy into a new family classic. The reality is far more mundane. The puzzle was that my mother's "fried" chicken came out of the oven.
I soon learned that this was but one of many kitchen conundrums. Besides "fried" chicken that is baked, cakes sometimes come off of griddles, loaves are as likely made of hamburger and sausage as they are flour and yeast and shepherds occasionally make pies. But such novelties are also some of the dishes that I have come to love best: easy, plain, delicious and just the right amount of magic to keep me kitchen-curious.
Nearly a generation later, I found myself pulling my own "fried" chicken out of the oven and thinking the time for passing on this pleasing anomaly is long overdue.
For those who eschew fat but want fried chicken in their lives, the oven-made method is the answer. While my mother rolled her chicken in melted butter before applying a crumb coating, my version uses buttermilk to tenderize the chicken pieces and help adhere the cornmeal coating.
"Butter" in the name should not fool buttermilk neophytes; lowfat buttermilk has about the same fat and calories as lowfat milk. And while I can attest that oven-baked chicken dipped in butter is celestial, the buttermilk wash in my version lends a rich and distinctive tang worthy of repeating time and time again.
Take advantage of the warmth of the oven, as well as the swell of culinary inspiration it might inspire, and make an easy side dish while you are at it. There is no end to the good things that go with fried chicken, but I suggest a packet of lemon-pepper roasted potatoes.
I am a fool for potatoes and particularly believe that, together with fried chicken, they are as right as Sunday mornings and The New York Times. Under ideal circumstances I would opt for a hearty helping of mashed potatoes as my fried chicken partner, but my weeknights routinely fall short of idyllic. Hence, I happily succumb to laziness and make my much easier packet potatoes.
Russet potatoes work well in this recipe, but my preference is for small red or "new" potatoes. It is a matter of convenience as much as taste: the waxiness of red potatoes is distinctively creamy in consistency and, because the skins are so thin, all prospects of peeling can be avoided. A simple scrub and the potatoes are ready for cubing and tossing into a foil packet.
Nothing is lost; when you bite into the lemon-permeated cubes of potato you will not miss the mashed. And because the potatoes are roasted in foil, there are no pots and pans to wash -- magic.
If enchantment is not the inspiration for making oven-baked fried chicken, so be it. You can make the chicken and potatoes for the good tastes alone and have the satisfaction of making a meal that tastes far more decadent than it is.