lemon gold

Before I launch into my new found passion for lemon curd, I'd like to address a comment that was recently made by a friend about the profusion of, what some might call, decadent or fattening ingredients in my recipes...I bring this up because a) there's a photo above with a giant mound of butter in it, and b) because I don't want to be giving the impression that I'm trying to kill you with an abundance of dairy and bacon and the like. I really am not trying to kill you--it's just that I feel that food should not be sugar-free or fat-free or flour-free or meat-free just for the sake of some fad diet or because Gwenyth Paltrow tells us its best. I believe that healthful, dare I say, natural eating, is knowing how to balance it all out; as an example: on Sunday we had taco night, and I always substitute ground dark turkey meat for beef and non-fat plain Greek yogurt for sour cream. Lots of flavor but not gilding the lily.

And rest-assured, I do not eat lemon curd all day, every day. I like my whole grain rice and fresh-squeezed juice and steamed broccoli sprinkled with rice wine vinegar as much as the next health nut...but I do like flavor, and I refuse not to use pancetta or creme fraiche or sugar when necessary!

So, onto lemon curd...
I have never been quite sure what to call this delicious substance: is it a spread? a condiment? a filling? Leslie says its in the custard family, which seems correct since you are using eggs and egg yolks. Whatever it is, its good on just about anything. I decided to make a batch for a little coffee and pastry party being thrown by our friends the Wang-Chens; who had invited a group of us over on the occasion of another old friend visiting from London on the eve of her nuptials. I try and always bring a little something when going to someone's house, just because I'm always thankful when someone invites me to their home and feeds me.

I had a couple of recipes I was looking at: one from Alice Waters (which used milk), and one from The Craft of Baking (which did not). I ended up consulting both and skipping the milk, which didn't really seem necessary.

The recipe uses a 1/2 cup of lemon juice (about 4 lemons) plus the zest of these lemons, 1/2 cup of sugar, 3 eggs, 3 egg yolks, 1/2 tsp of salt, and 8 tablespoons of butter. Everything but the butter is placed over simmering water and whisked until it evolves from something resembling a watery yellow puddle, into a gloriously thick, marigold pudding. It really helps the process if you can use a double-boiler. Not to make you jealous but I happen to have a very kick-ass copper one (the only copper pot I own) that I received as a wedding present. It works like a dream, but if you don't have a double-boiler you can just place a bowl inside a pot of water with about 2 inches of water in the bottom, making sure the bowl does not sit in the water.

When the custard is thick enough that you can see a trail left behind by the whisk, you start to add in your butter. First take the curd off the heat and let cool down for about 5-10 minutes. Your butter also needs to be at room temperature before you use it and you should cut it into small cubes and add one or two at a time, not adding more until they have blended into the curd.
Once all the butter is combined, push the curd through a sieve that will catch the lemon zest bits and pieces.
Finally, place curd in a lovely jar--this one I got from my uncle in Belgium, who uses them to store his own honey--and place in the fridge until you're ready to use.
I gave most of this batch to the Wang-Chens, but I did save a bit for us, which we enjoyed the next day at tea time.
A pot of tea and a box of those Dutch stroopwaffle cookies spread all over with curd were the perfect late-afternoon respite. And I already have some Meyer lemons lined up for the next batch. No guilt required.—Caroline

Batman Bash!

When I had a son, I didn't fully realize that there were certain topics and themes that I had been completely ignorant of but that were now going to become part of my everyday life. Forget snails and puppy dogs tails...that is not what my boy is made of (although he will go up to even the most menacing-looking canine on the street and try to give him a hug). His passion--and now ours--is trucks and superheroes. I now know what a backhoe loader is because of Conor. The superhero thing has been more perplexing, not because I wasn't aware that boys of all ages like comic books and fighting bad guys and tussling with their perplexing mutant powers—it's more a matter of how does the boy even know who Superman is when he's only two? He's never even seen a Superman movie or Spiderman comic, and yet he runs through the house as if he's wearing a cape, and likes to pose in front of me making these sound effects like lasers are coming out of his fingertips that will turn the "bad guy" (his mother) into vapor.

But clearly we are not the only family with a superhero-obsessed boy: case in point our lovely friends and former neighbors who recently threw an amazing Batman-theme party for their three-year-old son Oliver.
Not only was it an awesome party--there was a ball pit, enough said--but their mother, Daniela, made all the yellow and purple decorations and treats herself! It was so beautifully put together and personalized, that I asked her if I could show some photos on the blog. Besides the whimsical "Oliver" banner and Batman masks (there were also these cool cat-princess masks for the girls!), there were bat-shaped cookies that she baked and decorated with help from Oliver and his older brother, Alexander:
And a tier of mini vanilla and chocolate cupcakes decorated with more Batman figures:
And these tasty little confections from Daniela's native Brazil called brigadeiros:
I loved how the presentation felt homemade and not out of a box; everything was so well-considered, while still child-like and fun; as Daniela described it, it was a "labor of love".

And of course, Conor was hugely impressed, and has already requested the same decor for his upcoming 3rd birthday party. I am now inspired...but I'm thinking I might need Daniela's help.

**And if you'd like to see more of her wonderful graphic design work or looking for a little party-planning help, here's how to reach the very talented mom:
DFGoldin Design
danifech@hotmail.com
646.483.7449

I Heart Chicken Pot Pie

For some time now, I've been meaning to figure out the perfect yet easy chicken pot pie recipe, because I completely adore them. Our history together actually goes way back: in my old hometown of South Orange, NJ there was a famed German delicatessen called Town Hall, run by our family friend and master sandwich-maker Mr. Burdorf—that was famed for many things but particularly their homemade pot pies. My parents would sometimes bring them home for dinner, little individual pies in their foil containers, bundled inside a white paper box tied up with string.

They were full of tender chicken and vegetables, with a creamy white sauce holding it all together under the crust.

Then there was my Belgian grandmere's version, which was more like an open-faced pot pie: a pastry shell filled to overflowing with a rich concoction of chicken and carrots, scented with tarragon.

And more recently, a most amazing version I discovered two summers ago at the Falmouth Farmer's Market on Cape Cod. Under a small tent a man was selling wedges from regulation-sized chicken pot pies. It came with a side of cranberry chutney--and my lord! I think we went back for another and another until we realized that we should have just bought the whole pie and had our way with it. The filling was extraordinarily good and the crust was more dense than puff pastry, almost cracker-like. It was divine Yankee comfort food.

So for creating my own version—firstly I need to give props to that British finger-licking vixen Nigella Laswon, because it was while watching an episode of her show that I figured out how I was going to make my weeknight version.

She was assembling a chicken and mushroom bacon pie (here is the recipe if you'd like to give it a try) and had the clever idea of using store-bought puff pastry for the crusts. The crust is really the most time-consuming aspect, and I don't know about you, but I could spend a year at the Cordon Bleu and my puff pastry crust still wouldn't come out as nice as Dufour's or even Pepperidge Farm's. It would probably still resemble a rubber tarp.

So I suggest you go with the store-bought unless you have a dough recipe that works for you.

This recipe make enough for four individual pies. The portions are healthy enough that on their own, one pie per person is all you need to serve for dinner. I used these mini-Le Creuset heart-shaped pots that I happen to have (and can I say, they might seem like a novelty item, but they've come in very handy for all sorts of recipes, particularly desserts like panna cotta or flourless chocolate cakes; so if you see some consider adding them to your collection), but you can also use French onion soup bowls or even disposable foil containers.

Pre-heat your oven to 425 F.

In a large saute pan pour a good swig of olive oil and add one large crushed garlic clove(skin removed).

Warm on medium-low heat until the oil is infused a bit with the flavor of the garlic.

Increase the heat to medium and add six slices of roughly chopped bacon (or snipped with kitchen shears if you like the Nigella method).

While the bacon crisps take a pound of boneless, skinless, chicken thighs (trust me breast lovers, thighs are so much better) and cut into smallish chunks. Toss in a bowl with 5 tablespoons of all-purpose flour and about a teaspoon of fresh thyme (scraped from about 4 healthy sprigs).

When the bacon is crisp stir in 2 tablespoons of butter, once it's all melted add the chicken with all the flour as well, and begin to stir everything up--the flour and butter will be your impromptu roux and a necessary base for your sauce. Turn up the heat a bit to medium high so that your chicken will brown a bit on all sides as you turn it with the roux in the pan--just make sure that nothing is burning.

Once the chicken begins to brown, but it's not cooked all the way through, add 2 1/2 cups of hot chicken or vegetable stock, and very important for boosting the flavor, 2 tablespoons of Marsala wine.

I admit, I probably added even more than that, maybe two healthy slugs, because I love the flavor. It's also inexpensive--$8.00 for the bottle—so you can keep it around for other dishes.

While all of this is bubbling away you can make your pastry shells.
About an hour or so before cooking make sure to take the puff pastry out of the freezer so it can defrost. Since I was making four individual pies I used up most of two sheets, although if I had rolled the dough out a bit and been was more efficient with my cutting I could probably gotten away with just one. I also lightly flour my surface since the dough can become sticky. Cut one strip for wrapping around the perimeter of the dish--wet the ends with a bit of water to bind them together.

Then cut another piece to fit the top--you'll put this on once you've added the filling inside the dish.
Once the filling has bubbled for about 5 minutes I add one bag of frozen veggies: I use a mixture of carrots, peas, corn, and string beans. It's OK if they are still frozen when you add, they will cook in the oven while keeping their bright color and flavor. Season the entire mixture with salt and pepper.

Fill up each individual pie dish evenly and then place the the puff pastry lid on top. Seal all away around, attaching it to the pastry rim by either squeezing with your slightly-moistened fingers or pressing with the back of a fork.

Place the four sealed pies on a baking sheet and put in the oven, baking for about 20 minutes until puffy and brown. Rotate pan once halfway through cooking.

They should come out looking like this:
To eat I like to crush the top with my fork so that the pastry flakes fall into the lovely chicken and gravy. A lot of steam will rise up so make sure the little ones don't have their faces right over the top during that first plunge of the cutlery.
They ended up looking a bit like pastry hearts--no? Poulet dans la couer--is that the right translation French-speaking people? I told Belle it was chicken surprise. Even my mother, who claims to be completely anti-chicken thighs--ate the entire pie. I told her that there was no point in resisting. Now I just need to work on my cranberry chutney.—Caroline

chairs

I took this photo of Conor this weekend as he helped me prepare breakfast (and I show you this hoping that you won't pass judgement on my slightly cluttered cooking space!) He actually arranged the little chairs himself: the one on the left is next to the pancake-making station, the one on the right is next to the bacon-making station (or rather, the bacon-minding then bacon-stealing station). Now you may wonder if the boy's close-proximity to hot pans and open flame is a good thing, and I promise you that I'm all about safety-first and that I continually remind him that everything is hot, and that he needs to ask me before he flips the pancake.
But I have to say--I puff up with mommy pride when I see how interested he is in cookery, and how much he seems to enjoy cooking alongside me. He's a domestic little dude, who asks lots of questions ("what's that brown stuff?" when I sprinkle in some cinnamon) and takes great pleasure in whisking batter, tossing blueberries, and making sure the bacon is crisp.
This morning, he double-teamed breakfast with Belle, setting up their chairs in front of the toaster and bread box to make their morning repast. Conor likes his toast with jam and peanut butter; Belle jam and butter.
And a shout-out to my brother-in-law who made the chairs! He is an accomplished amateur carpenter, and each child was given his very own homemade chair upon their entry into the world of sitting. They have come in very handy for meals and crafts, and the kids love to move them around for assistance in reaching things they are not supposed to have (cookie jars, etc.)
So how much cooking do you do with the kids?—Caroline

Arabian Pizza

Flatbread seems to be having a moment--which is probably an oxymoron because I'm assuming flatbread in some form has been around since Biblical times. But still, I love it for it's many purposes. Like this Middle Eastern-inspired dish I made for lunch that I like to call: Arabian Pizza.
Now I preface the instructions for this concoction by saying that it's great when you can make all or some of the ingredients from scratch: specifically the tabbouleh and hummus. But if you cannot then that's fine too, because these are all things that are easy enough to find at the grocery store--we did a Trader Joe's run before the last blizzard and that's where I stocked up on what I needed, which is:

-flatbread

-hummus (whatever variety you prefer, I like classic)

-tabbouleh

-feta

-lemon juice

-olive oil

-salt and pepper
To create your "pizza" toast the flatbread on both sides and then slather one side with hummus.

Top hummus with your tabbouleh
Now I usually like to make my own tabbouleh--a tangy and delicious Lebanese salad that is a staple of the Middle East. The recipe I use is from Claudia Roden's cookbook ARABESQUE: A Taste of Morocco, Turkey, & Lebanon. I love this beautiful cookbook for its gorgeous photography and inspiring stories and recipes that Roden has researched from this mystical region of the world.

The tabbouleh recipe comes from a friend of Roden's based in Beirut. It consists of:

-a large bunch of flat-leaf parsley that is sliced thinly (never chopped! this will make it mushy!)

-combined with a bunch of sliced mint

-then separately combine 1/3 cup of fine-ground bulgur (which has been rinsed in cold running water and then pressed of its excess water) with the juice of 2 lemons and about 2 finely-diced ripe tomatoes (you can also use a pint of grape tomatoes if it's not summer tomato season). Let this sit for about 20 minutes so that the bulgar softens in the lemon and tomato juice.

-before using mix together the parsley, mint, bulgar mixture, 6 scallions thinly sliced, 5 tablespoons of olive oil, salt and pepper.
On top of the taboulleh crumble some feta cheese, and then finish off the dish with a squeeze of lemon juice, a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper to your taste.
If your kids are the kind who don't shriek at the sight of parsley then you might be surprised how much they like this--but it makes a perfectly lovely adult lunch too.—Caroline

Snow Day...again

Yesterday was the beginning of another epic snowfall here in the Northeast--our first winter in the Jerz and it's been a doozy. Not that I really mind that much. Commuting yesterday was an adventure; but today, hunkered down at home, making soup and maybe a puff pastry pizza for lunch...who can complain about that?

If you do have to go to work today can I suggest bringing in some donuts for your office comrades? I did--I was in Penn Station, bundled up to my ears, when I realized that it had been awhile since I had a Krispy Kreme donut...too long...

And, wouldn't it be rotten to bring one to work to eat with my coffee and not bring any for sharing?

So I got two dozen: chocolate cake (my favorite), sour cream, blueberry cake, sprinkles, glazed.

I think they brought a bit of happiness to a day when it felt like we were toiling inside of a sno-globe (With the exception of one co-worker who walked by, shook her head, made a kind of disapproving "phhhfffft" sound and then sashayed her skinny ass past them--does she think she's better than us donut eaters!? Please.)

I think sometimes we all forget that it's the simple things that make a difference, that make a day. And it helps when those little things are sugar-coated with a hole in the middle.—Caroline

Was it a dinner party disaster?

I had a major dinner-party screw-up on Saturday—MAJOR!

And I am now in need of some advice and consoling...

Tim had invited a work friend and his wife for dinner, and I was more stressed than I usually am about preparing a meal for others.

This is normally a situation I thoroughly enjoy.

And it's not that our guests weren't lovely, normal, food-loving people.

They were.

My issue was that I had never cooked for them before and they were maybe a generation older than us, so I was nervous about coming across as a complete rookie in the dinner-party department. I figured it would be completely inappropriate to serve-up skillet pizzas or pulled pork sandwiches (although, maybe in hindsight, I should have).

A mature and sophisticated audience expects cabernet and rib roasts, right?

My first mistake of the night was not having another couple there.

I was spending so much time in the kitchen getting things ready—basting meat, assembling salads, stirring polenta— that Tim had to do the lion share of the entertaining and simultaneous child-minding (choice moment: when Conor climbed onto the couch with his of cup milk, plopped down next to the wife, looked up at her and let out two long farts, followed by him shouting"it wasn't me!")

Another couple would have shouldered some of the socializing. That would have been good.

And maybe a few sleeping pills for the kids

Because they also decided on this very night that they weren't going to bed—EVER.

Belle was still up at 11pm, sitting at the dining room table across from our guests, eating whipped cream out of a bowl, and regaling them with stories about Kindergarten like she was on Larry King.

Second mistake:

Making something new from a recipe I had never tried before.

So my menu was the following:

-bread and cheese (a locally made fresh gouda, a creamy tomme de savoie, and a nicely blued English cheddar) with the cocktails.

-a salad of chilled cucumbers and red leaf lettuce topped with seared shrimp (one pound of peeled shrimp butterflied and cooked in a hot pan with a slick of olive oil, tossed with butter and white pepper and salt) crumbled feta, and a honey-dijon-shallot vinaigrette. This turned out very well--thank God.

-and for the entree braised short ribs in a red wine reduction, over polena with a side of roasted asparagus tossed in lemon juice.

The short ribs were awful. And I pride myself as someone who knows how to handle beef. But these ended up overcooked, tough, gray, the complete opposite of how they were supposed to look and taste.

I know Julia Child said "never apologize!" but as soon as I thumped the meat on the table I proclaimed "this is a complete disaster". I just didn't want them to think that I thought it was OK to eat meat the texture of a football, forcing them to pretend to enjoy it all evening.

The wife was nice enough to compliment the gravy.

Sigh.

But where did I go wrong?

My one suspicion is that the butcher was too thorough in trimming the meat. The recipe stated that there should be a layer of fat on one side of the meat, but there was no fat at all on my short ribs.

And then there was the fact that this recipe did not feel at all natural to me. It came from a very accomplished chef in his new cookbook that I like very much--but the whole time I was assembling (and this mother took two days of chopping and reducing and braising and reheating) I was thinking: this doesn't feel right.

Whereas the salad--which I made up on my own, cooking the way I like to cook, seasoning and combining with only my instincts to guide me— came out so much better.

Maybe I should just blame the butcher.

One bright note was the dessert: lemon tart. It received genuinely rave reviews, as it always does. But it is from a recipe that's tried-and-true (see here for my earlier post on how to make it), and Belle decorated it beautifully with whipped cream and fresh raspberries.

Thank God for dessert.

So feel free to share your most memorable dinner party disaster. If you dare.—Caroline

Yogurt Smoothie Time

I'm not one for product placements but I have to gush a bit about my new favorite yogurt: it's called siggi's and it's described as an "Icelandic style skyr strained non-fat yogurt".

I don't know what half of that means (although you can learn more here about this Icelandic via upstate NY yogurtmaker) but basically it's a delicious whipped yogurt made with the milk of grass fed cows who've never been given any kind of growth hormone, and with a reassuringly short ingredient list of just milk, agave nectar, blueberries and active cultures.
I'm sure you've noticed that over the last few years specialty and European-style yogurts have had a bit of an explosion in the US—and I'm happy about it! Because I never, ever, liked yogurt as a kid, frankly it grossed me out—so sour, and all that drippy fruit on the bottom of the cup--yuck! But I loved the little pots of yogurt I used to have in Belgium and France--dainty little cups of non-bitter yogurts with the fruit mixed in. I also fell in love with Greek yogurt after visiting a Greek food shop on Sullivan Street in NYC, where you can choose from several types of honey-marinated fruits to put on top of your yogurt. Now it's possible to find all these things in the local supermarket--and Belle and Conor are the beneficiaries...they are freaks for yogurt. They eat it all day long.
Conor is actually becoming a master yogurt smoothie maker. Just this morning he asked for the blender so he could whip some up--his ingredients: fresh blueberries (although for juice-based smoothies we'll usually toss in some frozen berries), sliced mango, a banana (a frozen one is best, if you can put it in the freezer the night before), Greek yogurt, some whole milk so it's not too thick, and honey to sweeten (although you can use agave as well). Whir it up and serve...
Best of all, you can make a big batch for enjoying all day long (I use a lovely Italian-made glass pitcher for storing in the fridge) and it's a lot cheaper than buying the pre-made kind. Just don't forget the straw.—Caroline

An Edible iphone

It takes a special kind of food-geek to create something like this: an open-faced sandwich homage to the iphone.

There is an actual video you can watch of the thing being assembled with the use of a sharp knife and many ingredients...can you guess from looking at the "buttons" what was used to make this Mactastic masterpiece?

And if case you're thinking of creating a gourmet version of your own iphone/blackberry/sidekick (and you have LOTS of free time on your hands) you can send a photo of your creation to the isandwich bloggy.

My question is, did they eat it the phone after making it?—Caroline

Bowl of What-Have-You

One of my favorite names for a dish is something called Eton Mess. What it is—for those of you like myself who have never attended an uppercrust all-boys school in Great Britain—is a dessert concocted to feed a large group of hungry adolescents in short pants: crumbled meringue mixed with whipped cream and berries.

Here is a video of that Brit-cooking vixen Nigella Lawson mixing some up: eton mess.

Now I'm not offering my own version of the refectory concoction, I'm referencing it because it has inspired my own mess, although a savory one— something I like to call "rice and stuff" or "pantry mess" or "bowl of what-have-you".
It usually consists of the following: rice (instant brown rice if time is of the essence), a lightly dressed salad (I like to make a dressing with walnut oil, champagne vinegar, honey, and dijon mustard), some roasted veggies (I used sweet potatoes), and if they're on hand, roasted tomatoes (I had none for my most recent mess so I sauteed some halved grape tomatoes in butter with shallots).

Pantry mess is something I usually make for lunch--when a sandwich just won't do. It was snowy and gray yesterday, and my mom and I needed a little comforting sustenance, so a pantry mess was in order.

Besides the boys of Eton I was also inspired by Kenny Shopsin of Shopsin's fame, taking a cue from his recent cookbook Eat Me.

In his book, Shopsin describes a long ago dish he used to order at a favorite restaurant with his wife that sounds completely nuts but was delicious: rice with veggies and then melted cheese. I don't melt any cheese on my mixture, but I do sprinkle it with grated sharp Cabot cheddar before serving.
There's something about the mixing of warm rice, root veggies, tart and buttery tomatoes, vinegary lettuce, and sharp cheese, that's delightful. I usually like to add some leftover chicken or imported tuna as well, whichever is in the pantry, for a little protein--but it's unnecessary.

And you can come up with your own mess: as long as there's a grain, a salad, a roasted veggie, something acidic and something sharp and creamy--you're in business.—Caroline