Tag Archives: Old cookbooks

by | May 20, 2013 · 10:22 pm

Do do this ragout that we do so well.

Spring vegetable ragout with gnocchi

We’re not asking you join a great crusade to stamp out decency in the West. (After all, some would say there’s nothing left to do.)  We’re simply asking you to start celebrating your fresh green vegetables with this simple, light “stew.”

A while back, Michelle was hypnotized by some Whole Foods fava beans (a rarity in these parts), and found a recipe in Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables for Fava Bean Ragout. Alice indicated it was “great with Potato Gnocchi,” which by happy coincidence Steve has finally figured out how to make. Michelle, spurred by some sprouting potatoes, urged Steve generate some gnocchi while she prepared the favas, garlic, herbs, lemon and olive oil. Steve’s soft, pillowy gnocchi (reportedly the envy of one Chef Bill) did pair quite well with the lovely light broth full of just-tender vegetables. Perhaps because we drastically cut back on the amount of olive oil called for in the original recipe, the vegetable flavors really step forward in version after version of this flexible dish, which most recently in Gourmandistan featured baby artichokes, peas, asparagus, green garlic and thyme.

Spring vegetable ragout

We think this is a wonderful, reasonably hassle-free way to feature the fresh flavors of spring vegetables. Do yourself a favor and go to your local market. You’ll find fresh peas, favas or some other delight. Take them home. Make this sauce. You’ll probably start singing this before you’re finished.

SPRING VEGETABLE RAGOUT

(Inspired by Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables, this is less a recipe than a loose guideline. Explore and enjoy!)

Olive oil
Baby artichokes, cleaned, sliced in half and held in a bowl of lemon water
Sliced garlic or green garlic
Leaves from several sprigs of thyme
Water or stock
Salt and pepper
Spears and nice parts of asparagus stems, cut in approximately 2″ slices
Peas or shelled fava beans
Lemon juice
Parmesan cheese shavings
 

Generously cover the bottom of a skillet or sauté pan with olive oil. When oil has heated, add drained artichokes, garlic and thyme and enough water or stock to barely cover. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, cover and cook for about 8 minutes. Add asparagus spears and peas or fava beans and simmer, covered, for about 5 minutes more. Pour lemon juice over and adjust seasoning if needed.

Serve over browned gnocchi with shavings of Parmesan cheese.

 
 

25 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as , , , ,

by | May 11, 2013 · 9:50 pm

(Re)iterating Bertolli’s baby artichokes, olives, meatballs and sage

Meatballs & artichokes

We found this recipe in Chez Panisse Cooking while looking for a creative way to use some semi-impulse-bought baby artichokes. (They were from Castroville and on special at Whole Foods. Even die-hard locavores couldn’t resist.) We were initially attracted by the interesting mix of ingredients, a step up from our previous effort. Then we were intrigued by Paul Bertolli’s perplexing introduction. Telling us his mother “used marinated artichokes and a type of green Spanish olive ” he “can’t find anymore,” Bertolli goes on to say his version “doesn’t taste quite the same.” Further deepening the mystery, Bertolli merely specifies “green olives,” leaving us in the dark about what taste (oregano? metallic?) may have been missing from his version.

Left to our own devices, we chose garlic-marinated green olives. Because we like garlic. And because they were the only pre-pitted variety available at the grocery near Michelle’s office. We omitted the called-for cherry tomatoes because it’s not yet their season, but found fresh sage from some hardy overwintered stuff sprouting outside our kitchen door. The meatballs were easy, because we had some stashed in the freezer. Steve made eggy, thick noodles to go with the broth-braised chokes and meat. Without too much (OK, some) trouble, our definition of this Chez Panisse dish was done.

ArtichokesMeatballs & artichokes 1

Should we stumble on some more baby artichokes we may very well make this again. If it’s during tomato season, we’ll probably throw some cherries into the mix and see what happens. Perhaps it’s not exactly what Mama Bertolli wanted, but we think iteration is the sincerest form of flattery. (That is how the saying goes, isn’t it?)

Meatballs & artichokes (1)

MEATBALLS WITH ARTICHOKES, GREEN OLIVES AND SAGE

(adapted from Paul Bertolli’s Chez Panisse Cooking) (serves 4)

1 large onion, quartered and sliced in half moon shapes
Olive oil
Salt & pepper
6 cloves garlic, sliced thin
Juice of 2 lemons
1 to 1-1/2 lbs. baby artichokes
12 meatballs*
1/3 c. coarsely chopped green olives
1 TB coarsely chopped sage
1/2 c. chicken stock
 

Preheat oven to 350°.

Sauté onions in 1 TB olive oil until softened but not browned.  Season with salt and pepper. Add 3/4 of the garlic slices and toss. Transfer to a 1-1/2 quart baking dish.

Fill a medium bowl halfway with water. Add half of the lemon juice to the water. Cut off tops of artichokes. Remove outer leaves. Cut off stems. Pare away the green parts of the bases. Cut artichokes into quarters and place in the lemon water.

Lightly brown meatballs in olive oil in a skillet. Then, set them atop the onions and garlic in the baking dish.

Drain the artichokes. Toss them with remaining garlic slices, remaining lemon juice, sage, a splash of olive oil, salt and pepper.

Distribute the artichoke mixture around the meatballs. Pour stock over. Cover tightly with foil. Bake for 1 hour.

Serve with fresh egg noodles which have been tossed with butter and Parmesan cheese.

* Use whatever sort of meatballs you want. We make ours much like Conor Bofin’s recipe, with the addition of ground veal.

 
 

25 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes

Tagged as , , ,

by | May 4, 2013 · 10:34 pm

Beginning Baking (Again) With Bernard Clayton’s Rich White Bread

Toast Steve was starting to think he was so big. He started to think he was a better baker than most. It may have begun with his pâte brisée, or perhaps his pizza dough. Maybe it was when he made that batch of bialys or his “perfect” Parker House Rolls. Perhaps it was time he was taken down a peg. Perhaps it was time for Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads.

Actually, Steve’s comedown didn’t start with Bernard Clayton—it started with starter. Steve had decided he should move on from instant dry yeast and begin his own “mother” made from yeast found floating naturally in Gourmandistan’s environment. Using a technique adapted from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, he began fermenting organic rye flour and spring water. After a few days, he’d produced something that definitely seemed alive, and quite possibly stemmed from Gourmandistani yeast strains. Unfortunately, our native strains seem to tend towards laziness.

Steve first tried the starter in a sourdough rye from Clayton’s The Breads of France and How to Bake Them in Your Own Kitchen, producing a flat, funny-tasting loaf that quickly went to the chickens. Seeing as how his starter was still bubbling away, Steve decided it might be Clayton’s fault, but decided to give the man another chance by combining starter with instant yeast in “Turnipseed Sisters’ White Loaf.” Again, things did not go well. A promising first rise became a slow second, and the chickens ate well once more.

Chickens

Steve was about to give up on Mr. Clayton and declare him a fool, a fraud and certainly no friend of Gourmandistan. Michelle, remembering past successful recipes, suggested instead it was perhaps time for Steve to give up his starter and try something different. With the bitter taste of defeat (and the odd tang of starter) in his mouth, Steve agreed.

He went all the way back to the beginning of Clayton’s book, seeking a simple white loaf that would wipe away the taste of sourdough. Clayton’s “Rich White Bread” recipe certainly did the trick. Both lard and butter have turned out loaves of sturdy, tasty stuff we’ve enjoyed with egg salad and as toast. (Steve likes to call this bread “Mitt Romney.” Steve really needs to let that stuff go.)

Toast 2

As our weather is warming Steve is once more thinking about sourdough starter, and may give one of Clayton’s a try in short order. (He’s particularly interested in one made from grape must, but will wait until local grapes are found at our market.) While we wait for our new eukaryote friends to arrive, we will most likely try more instant yeast recipes from Mr. Clayton—and we possibly won’t feel quite so big about ourselves.

Toast

RICH WHITE BREAD (a/k/a “Mitt Romney”)

(adapted from Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads) (makes 2 loaves)

1-1/2 c. hot water (120°-130° F)
1/2 c. nonfat dry milk
2 TB sugar
2 t. salt
2 packages dry yeast
4-1/2 to 5-1/2 cups bread or all-purpose flour
2 TB lard or butter, at room temperature
2 large eggs, at room temperature
 

Pour hot water into mixing bowl. Stir in dry milk, sugar, salt, yeast and 3 cups flour. Blend. Add the lard or butter and eggs. Beat until batter is smooth—if using a stand mixer the batter may require scraping. Stir in the balance of the flour, 1/2 cup at a time, until the dough becomes rough and shaggy and begins to clean the sides of the bowl.

Knead until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, sprinkling on more flour if it remains sticky. Place the smooth, elastic dough ball in a greased bowl, cover in plastic wrap and leave in a warm place until at least doubled in bulk, about 1-1/2 hours.

Turn back the wrap and punch down the dough with your fingers, reshaping into a ball. Cover again and let rise for another 30 minutes or so, until just about doubled in bulk.

Grease 2 large (9″ x 5″)  loaf pans.

Knead the dough for a few moments, pressing out the bubbles. Divide the dough into two pieces, shape into balls, cover and let rest for about 5 minutes. Form a loaf by pressing a ball into a flat oval just about the length of the pan, then fold it in half and pinch the seam tightly. Tuck the ends under and place the dough, seam side down, into the greased pan.

Preheat your oven to 400°.

Cover the loaves with waxed paper and leave in a warm place to rise until the dough puffs about 1″ above the pan’s edge, about 45 minutes.

Uncover and bake the loaves for about 25-30 minutes, shifting the pans about halfway through baking, until they are golden brown and pull away from the loaf pans.

Remove the loaves from the oven, turn them from the pans and thump their bottoms with a finger. A hard hollow sound means the bread is baked. Cool before slicing.

41 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as ,

by | April 1, 2013 · 3:00 am

Trompe l’oink

Nut cutlet

This is not a post about how to treat your family to plump, juicy pork chops without frying. It is instead about Nut Cutlets—or “nutlets,” as Steve insists on calling them. We found this recipe in Kitchenology with Principia Friends, a 1933 cookbook written by “St. Louis mothers” as a fundraising tool for Principia College. Perhaps because of Depression-era budgets, the book has an entire section on “Meat Substitutes”—with ideas like Mock Veal Loaf (broken spaghetti, chopped walnuts), Cheese Rarebit (American cheese, crackers, tomato soup) and this gem Steve demanded we make one evening when he discovered a surplus of shelled pecans in the freezer.

We had a bit of fun whirling the ingredients together, forming a fake chop and frying it up. We won’t bother with a real recipe (pecans, egg, breadcrumbs, white sauce, pasta “bone”) because we can’t really say it was an acceptable substitute for our delicious local pork.

We do, however, think it’s an acceptable bit of April Foolery, and charitably hope this will be the most foolish you feel today.

Kitchenology was charmingly illustrated by Rudolph Tandler.

OK, so the recipes aren’t the greatest.
But Kitchenology was delightfully illustrated by Rudolph Tandler.

37 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food

Tagged as ,

by | March 15, 2013 · 6:33 pm

Pee, pan-dairy pancakes & a pledge you should make

Pancakes

Gourmandistan is not normally a territory enthused about the prospect of kidneys. Even a fan such as Jaques Pépin is forced to describe their flavor as “an assertive taste that some may not find inviting.” Putting it bluntly, kidneys pretty much always taste of urine, quite possibly because their primary function is producing the stuff. While we’ve received them in several whole animal purchases, we’ve usually (somewhat secretly and shamefully as nose-to-tail enthusiasts) allowed them to go to waste. Today, however, we’re here to argue quite the opposite position on kidneys. Just not in a culinary way. That’s what the pancakes are for—along with celebrating the start of a new status for Michelle’s father as a transplant recipient.

Daffodil

Tom was on dialysis for several years—a time-sucking, location-limiting lifestyle adjustment the entire family had begun to accept as our normal way of life. Weekend before last, however, he received what the doctors called “a perfect match,” donated by the family of a girl who died far too young at the opposite end of the country. The procedure took the better part of what became a blurry, sleepless night, with Michelle and her mother stumbling home around 6:30 on Sunday morning to report a successful surgery before collapsing in happy exhaustion.

Daffodil

Steve needed a way to feed three ladies with different sleep schedules and asked Michelle’s sister for suggestions. The reply was “pancakes,” a food not seen in Gourmandistan for many years. Steve’s first sleep-deprived stab at finding a recipe was Edna Lewis, but waiting 8-10 hours for sourdough to ferment was out of the question. Turning to the “breakfast” shelf of Gourmandistan’s cookbook library, Steve’s tired eyes fell on Morning Food: From Café Beaujolais, possibly because its bright yellow dust jacket penetrated his gummy eyelids. “Cottage Cheese Pancakes” seemed simple enough, except Gourmandistan at the moment possessed no cottage cheese. Substituting a dab of almost-out-of date ricotta and some Greek yogurt seemed to do the trick, as Michelle’s sister pronounced the thin, tasty, almost crêpe-like cakes extremely satisfying. A few hours later Michelle’s mom awoke and, after a small plateful, agreed—noting that she often made the same recipe at home with the called-for cottage cheese.

In the days since, we’ve treated the entire newly-kidneyed clan to several other pancake breakfasts, once using all ricotta and another time using all yogurt. All versions were equally good, perhaps made even tastier seasoned with the anticipation of life after dialysis.

Pancakes

We may not care for the flavor of lamb or beef kidneys, but we surely hope to enjoy this one—and the idea that someday we might provide such a gift for another family. Because someone cared enough to be generous even in a time of grief, we can share this happy story and simple, family-synchronous recipe with you. And we urge you, if you have not done so already, to become an organ donor.

PAN-DAIRY PANCAKES

(adapted from Margaret S. Fox and John Bear’s Morning Food: From Café Beaujolais) (makes 7-8 small pancakes)

3 eggs
1 c. cottage cheese, ricotta cheese, Greek yogurt or some combination thereof
2 TB vegetable oil
1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
 

Place all ingredients in a blender.  Combine on low speed until smooth and all flour is incorporated.

Pour batter in 1/4 cup increments onto a nonstick or lightly buttered hot skillet. Turn when bottoms of pancakes are browned.

Serve on a warmed plate with butter and/or maple syrup.

40 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as , , ,

by | February 13, 2013 · 12:00 am

Bunny Bundt: Early Spring Marmalade Carrot Cake

Orange Marmalade

Not satisfied with making enough jam to slake Steve’s appetite for fruit-laced yogurt, last winter Michelle decided to also make Seville orange marmalade. After peeling, juicing, slicing and boiling, she’d produced several batches—exactly none of which met her stringent standards. Some seemed too thick with slabs of peel, others too runny and light. Steve thought they were all fine, especially the “blended” jars that Goldilocks-edly straddled the thick-thin divide.

Unfortunately, Steve does not eat that much marmalade. He finds its citrusy sourness too close to the tang of yogurt. And while he does love a thick layer slathered over butter on a baguette, he will not allow himself to have that very often, fearing a transformation into Papa Bear. So thick, thin and “just right,” much of Gourmandistan’s marmalade remained uneaten until recently, when Steve finally convinced Michelle to start using the stuff in desserts. Steve liked Michelle’s first effort (a chocolate cake with marmalade filling) very much, as he is quite fond of candied orange dipped in chocolate. However, Michelle was not as attracted to the pairing, and sought a more appetizing (to her, at least) option.

Recently, while Steve was in New York attending the Roger Smith Cookbook Conference (when not eating and partying with the amazing Daisy from coolcookstyle), Michelle made a short trip upriver to Madison, Indiana where she rummaged around antique stores, finding some old cookbooks including a copy of Food in Good Season by Betty Fussell containing a recipe for Marmalade Carrot Cake.

Marmalade Carrot Cake

Fussell is perhaps best known for I Hear America Cooking, a 1986 book of regional dishes that did not survive one of Gourmandistan’s frequent cookbook purges. (Michelle, after buying several new volumes, may be steeling herself for another.) 1988′s Food in Good Season bills itself as “A Month-by-Month Harvest of Country Recipes for Cooks Everywhere.” And while it’s not quite yet March, Michelle was drawn to this Marmalade Carrot Cake, because it called for both marmalade and carrots (which we happened to have in February thanks to Farmer Pavel’s winter CSA). While Steve staggered about Bushwick and other parts of the Big Apple, Michelle brought out her seldom-used Bundt pan and baked, producing a not-too-sweet, satisfyingly succulent little cake. It was a great way to get rid of “bad” marmalade, though we both thought the recipe could use a bit more carrot. True March, however, is merely weeks away—and Pavel will possibly have more carrots to offer when our non-winter farm share begins. Making marmalade may not be in the cards this season, but this cake will almost certainly get another go.

MARMALADE CARROT CAKE

(adapted from Betty Fussell’s Food in Good Season)

Butter and flour for pan
1/2 c. (or more) carrots, chopped very finely
3/4 c. (1-1/2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
3/4 c. sugar
3 eggs, at room temperature
2 c. all-purpose flour
1-1/2 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1/2 c. orange marmalade, roughly chopped in food processor
1/2 c. almonds, finely chopped in food processor
1/4 c. crème fraîche
1/3 c. fresh orange juice
1/3 c. sugar
 

Preheat oven to 325°.

Cook carrots in boiling water for a couple of minutes until done. Drain and set aside.

Liberally butter and flour a Bundt pan.

Cream butter and 3/4 cup sugar with electric mixture. Add eggs and beat well.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together. Stir into egg mixture. Add carrots, marmalade, almonds and crème fraîche, stirring until mixed.

Place batter in Bundt pan and level with a spatula. Bake for 50-55 minutes, until a tester comes out clean.

Cool for at least 15 minutes. While cake is cooling, heat orange juice and 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan, just until sugar is dissolved. 

Remove cake from pan and place on a rack placed over a sheet of waxed paper. Pour the syrup over the cake.

You can serve the cake with a dollop of crème fraîche and some marmalade. But, truthfully, it’s better just plain.

35 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as , , , ,

by | January 14, 2013 · 8:29 pm

Ravioli, Tortelli, Mezzalune, a Marriage

Tortelli alla Patese

It’s an unseasonably warm mid-January afternoon in 1988. Michelle is stomping around Louisville’s downtown, where we lived at the time, in a wedding outfit. People are driving by, honking their horns and hooting congratulations. Michelle is angry. She is angry with Steve, who has both sets of  keys. Steve took Michelle’s keys when he drove back to the apartment from the wedding site to get the marriage license, which he had forgotten. He then forgot he already had his keys with him and took Michelle’s. Which is why, in a time before cell phones, Michelle got locked out of the apartment building, was unable to start her car, and, with her matron of honor in tow, is now walking to her own wedding. Steve is sorry that Michelle is angry, plus he’s embarrassed because he tried to convince the august state Supreme Court justice presiding over the ceremony to “just forget” about needing the license to perform a wedding. (The judge was not amused.)

That’s pretty much how Gourmandistan “officially” began, 25 years ago this week.

WeddingWedding

We share this with you because, as we reach the quarter-century mark, people may believe we know what it takes to keep a marriage together for so long a time. We’d like to head off that kind of thinking as quickly as possible. Much better to ask us about pasta. Like marriage, pasta comes in all shapes and sizes. A few common threads (flour, water, eggs,) can create mezzalune, tortelli and ravioli. (Mezzalune, for the curious, are half-moon shaped tortelli, which are round ravioli. Or so we’ve read.)

Tortelli alla Pratese

Gourmandistan has no books on how to make a marriage work, unless one counts antique editions on deportment—which are kept for humor value only, we assure you. We do, however, have a vast number of cookbooks. Bugialli on Pasta has graced our shelves, in many different apartments and houses, for 25 years.  It was gifted to us at our first married Christmas by Michelle’s mom, who wrote on the flyleaf: “You’ve mastered U.S.A. cuisine, so it’s time to conquer Italia!”

Bugialli cookbook

For some reason (whether the unappetizing Eighties food photography, Michelle’s ambivalence about Italian food or our general laziness), the book has been virtually unused by us for a quarter of a century. But since it was published in 1988 and was named best “European and International” cookbook of that year by the International Association of Culinary Professionals, we felt something from it might make for an appropriate silver anniversary salute.

Tortelli alla Pratese

Tortelli o Mezzalune alla Pratese (Tortelli or Half-Moon Tortelli Prato Style—we made tortelli) was deliciously delicate, with layers of flavor. Meat and potatoes were front and center, but spice and seasoning gave the whole thing maturity and complexity. Wait—was that some kind of metaphor?

Rehearsal dinner

This out of focus snap from after the rehearsal dinner holds up better
after 25 years than all those stagey wedding photos.

TORTELLI ALLA PRATESE

(adapted, slightly, from Bugialli on Pasta) (serves 8, reportedly)

PASTA FILLING:
12 oz. starchy potatoes
5 TB olive oil
1 bay leaf
1/4 lb. ground beef
Salt & pepper
2-3 cloves garlic
10 sprigs Italian parsley, stems removed
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 c. grated Parmesan cheese
Pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
 

Boil potatoes, in their skins, in salted water for 40-45 minutes, until soft. Drain potatoes and immediately peel them. Pass through a food mill. Set aside to cool.

In a small skillet or saucepan, fry ground beef with bay leaf in the olive oil. Break up beef with a spatula while frying. Season well with salt and pepper. Discard bay leaf and add meat and juices to milled potatoes.

Finely chop garlic. Coarsely chop parsley. Add both to potato/meat mixture.

When potato/meat mixture is cool, add beaten eggs, cheese and nutmeg, stirring in with a wooden spoon. Cover and refrigerate until needed.

PASTA:
4 c. all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt
4 eggs
4 tsp. olive oil
 
Put flour and salt into the bowl of a stand mixer, making a small well. Add eggs and olive oil into the flour well. Use the paddle attachment to mix, until it starts to form little blobs. Switch to the kneading hook and knead the dough, adding more flour or egg as needed to get a springy ball. Let the dough rest for an hour or so, wrapped in wax paper.
 
Roll the pasta at setting 1 of a pasta machine for five or six times, folding the pasta sheet into thirds after each roll. Then roll the sheet through once per setting until it is as thin as you want.
 
We made this pasta with a round stamp, in much the same way that Greg at Rufus’ Food and Spirits Guide prepares his ravioli (though we set one narrow sheet of pasta atop another rather than doing the fold-over thing). We’ve never had great luck with the various trays or dies we’ve had, but Chicago John has a nice tutorial on how to use those tools at From the Bartolini Kitchens. We used a level tablespoon of filling per tortello with a 2-1/2″ stamp.
 
Cook pasta in boiling, salted water. It will not take long—just a few minutes. But the cooking time will depend on how thick your pasta is and the extent to which it dried out before cooking.  Carefully remove the pasta from the water with a skimmer and plate immediately.
 
Top generously with melted butter and Parmesan cheese, a little freshly ground nutmeg and some roughly chopped parsley.
 

65 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes

Tagged as , , ,