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Have Yourself a Merry Medieval Easter with Mincemeat-Stuffed Quince

Jonny — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 15:18:36 +0000

Most Brits associate mincemeat with Christmas – its intoxicating mix of fruit, spices, booze, nuts and mixed peel provide Pavlovian stimuli, stirring memories of cherubic choirs a-caroling, roasted poultry, and the Queen’s speech – whereas I associate it with Easter, because it was always around then that we finally ran out of mince pies. I use the term “ran out” quite deliberately, as mince pies were the kind of thing that, growing up, were considered within the realm of “supplies”, so numerous were they. Every year in early December, my industrious mother would make at least six, but often as many as ten, dozen individual mince pies, fashioned lovingly from homemade mincemeat she had prepared several months in advance.

These seasonal confections then proceeded to appear on the table each and every mealtime, during tea breaks, whenever we had company over and any other time people were sat sitting and might be persuaded to have a smackerel of something, until everyone was thoroughly sick of the sight of them. Towards the end of March, the sight of the poor, battered-looking stragglers, that had been taken in and out their box so many times that their pastry shells were all dented and crumbly, was particularly sad.

The derivation of the word mincemeat, which today contains no minced meat, is Medieval, from a time shortly after Marco Polo had returned from the East, and every cook worth his salt was finding new ways to disguise and preserve rotten provisions with the spices he popularized. Adding cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves to ground meat, dried fruits, candied peel and chopped nuts before soaking the whole lot in high octane liquor must have been a hit at the time, which probably speaks more to the concurrent lack of fresh meat than to whether this was, in fact, a delicious preparation. Either way, it caught the imagination of a nation, and though the ground meat has largely been dropped, the tradition of using these spices to perfume pie filling continues strongly.

Another reason mincemeat was such a hit way back when is because once made, it can be expected to keep, unrefrigerated for as long as 2 years – something my mother bore in mind, as she often made hers over the first weekend of the New Year giving it ample time to “improve” over the next 12 months. Throughout the year, she would occasionally rouse it from its slumbers, turning it over and adding a touch more brown sugar or booze as she deemed necessary. Suffice it to say that by the time Easter came around, and the last mince pies were served, their mincemeat contents was nearing its second birthday, and was so highly perfumed that to inhale deeply close to a warmed mincer was to risk singed nose hairs.

Following my mother’s established tradition, I was well prepared, having put together my mincemeat last January, and fed it occasionally throughout 2011, so that it was rich and boozy by the time the Holidays arrived. Unfortunately, the energetic screams of our firstborn put paid to any intentions I may have had of making batches of personal mince pies before Christmas, so I had plenty of mincemeat leftover to ring in the New Year with. Inspired by a desire to produce something that people would actually eat before the next Christian festival hove into view, I quickly prepared this mincemeat stuffed quince. You could quite equally pair it with a vanilla custard/creme anglaise or, as I prefer, a whisky-laced whipped cream, but I lost my dander somewhere along the way and just shook some powdered sugar over it to evoke the wintry season instead.

I could have used apples in this recipe, but opted for quince largely because it’s one of those fruits that was, coincidentally, first popularized in the UK during Elizabethan times and has, rather sadly, since fallen out of favor. Brought originally from Asia and sometimes known by the moniker “love apple”, quince isn’t dissimilar in taste and texture to the apple — to which it is botanically related and which would make a fine substitute here — but when you’ve got the strains of “Good King Wencelas” with its frosty and feudal lyrics echoing in your mind, quince just feels right. [For more on quince, check out our friend Rachel Eats.]

Oven-baked quince are really, really good: rich, almost custardy in flavor and not overly sweet. A perfect dessert for the Holiday period, providing enough time is taken between courses. It’s probably not worth making a batch of mincemeat just for this purpose, but they are they dead easy and quick to pull together, and will be eaten in no time, allowing you and your family to leave Yuletide flavors safely behind you before the end of January.

Mincemeat-Stuffed Quince (serves 4)

Ingredients:

1 quantity of Delia Smith’s homemade mincemeat (you’ll have plenty leftover)
4 large quince (or good baking apples)
2oz melted unsalted butter
2 tablespoons coarse brown sugar (optional)
powdered sugar for dusting

Recipe:

Prepare mincemeat according to directions and store in a cool, dark place. Bring to room temperature.
Pre-heat oven to 350F/175C
Cut quince or apple in two pieces. The bottom should be about two-thirds of the fruit, with the top being the other third, where the stork is.
With a paring knife core and empty most of quince or apple flesh, leaving half an inch (1cm) wall around the outside on both top and bottom pieces. Leave skin on.
Fill cavity in bottom with mincemeat and pile high.
Top with lid and brush fruit lightly all over with melted butter, and sprinkle with brown sugar (latter is optional).
Place in oven and bake for 40-50 minutes until quince/apple is nicely browned and wilting but not collapsed.
Allow to cool for 5 or 10 minutes before serving dusted with powdered sugar, and with your choice of seasonal sauce/whipped cream/ice cream.

Guinness-Braised Pork Neck with White Beans: Age-Old Winter Warmer

Jonny & Amy — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 22:38:51 +0000

I often think that living in a small scruffy New York City apartment is akin to a pioneer life in a log cabin somewhere remote. Sure, the commute is easier, but the myriad quotidien affronts and man traps of a city existence certainly resemble the perils of life on the range.

This is never more true than in winter when leaving your apartment on an icy weekend is about as enticing as wading through thigh-deep snow while being pursued by a pack of ravening wolves. On the those days, when opening your front door results in a nasty swirl of city trash blowing across your threshold, there is nothing better to do than hole up and compensate for your super’s inattention to heating your building to legally established levels by braising something porky for however many hours it takes to chase the chill back, at least as far the verminious bathroom and its dripping condensation.

In this case, it was some seriously chunky pork neck bones – whose original owner must have been a champion of his breed – braised in a rosemary-scented Guinness broth. Typical of parts of the English Midlands where malty, hoppy ales abound and rare breed pigs grow fat on acorns, apples and whey, this is an ancient recipe and in it lie the origins of the famous baked bean dish that, when transposed to the rather more Puritanical colonies, banished the beer in favor of the sweetness of readily-available sugar coming up from the Caribbean, so becoming Boston baked beans. For those pioneers, the presence of such a stew on the table during a long Massachusetts winter must have been even more important than for us hard-pressed city dwellers today.

It is also very similar to a stew my Great Auntie Annie used to make when a crowd of family descended on her Solihull semi-detached so that the grandkids could spend the day riding around the garden on her husband’s 1/16th scale-model railway. It’s not clear to me how often Great Uncle Roger used his train when there were no young guests in the house, but I rather enjoy the idea that if you peeked through the box hedges of a quiet Birmingham suburb on any given weekday morning you might find a highly eccentric retiree rushing around his back yard on a toy train.

For we grandkids, all the excited shreaking and ducking under low hanging bushes as the train chugged around at a decent clip always left us red-faced and famished. My Great Aunt, the youngest of nine kids, knew instinctively how to cater for large groups of young ‘uns, stretching a cheaper cut of meat with white beans, potatoes, and iron-rich ale.

The quality of the final product relies greatly on the quality of the beer used in the braise. Lager is of no use here and light beer (if it is ever worth drinking) should be completely avoided. A fine malty and/or hoppy English-style brew that will give strength, depth and some sweetness to the stew is what you’re seeking. Auntie Annie used to use Flowers’ Original, a floral English ale (then) made in nearby Stratford-upon-Avon. Similarly, pork necks with plenty of connective tissue and marrow are ideal because the former breaks down to thicken the sauce and latter makes a simple and rustic dish somehow luxurious.

Of course, unlike life in the country where heating is controlled by the number of logs on the fire, your apartment heating is bound to come on, clanking and groaning itself into overdrive, just as you plate this dish, forcing you to sweat through it, and all night long in your bed, in spite of the open window. The following morning, perhaps only to escape the dry, oppressive internal conditions, the grey, freezing city will magically appear more inviting and your struggle on the subway marginally less onerous.

Pork Neck Stew with Guinness, White Beans and Rosemary

(feeds 4 adults)

Ingredients:
- 2lbs pork neck bones, cut up
- 1 large spanish onion, diced
- 3 medium or 2 large carrots, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- 2 large floury potatoes cut into large (1 inch) dice
- 1 large sprig rosemary
- 1x8oz can chopped tomatoes
- 1x8oz can cannellini or other small white bean
- 2x16oz cans Guinness
- 2-3 tablespoons vinegar
- (optional) 2 teaspoons brown sugar
- salt and black pepper
- (optional) 1/4 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes

Recipe:
- in a large heavy bottomed pot, heat 2 tablespoons neutral-tasting oil to medium high and brown neck bones in batches until all well browned on all sizes.
- remove neck bones and add onions and carrots. Salt lightly and saute until onions are translucent. Add garlic and (optional) hot pepper flakes.
- saute for a further two minutes before adding Guinness (or ale of your choice) and canned tomatoes).
- stir well and add rosemary. bringing it to a boil and simmering covered for one hour. (Alternatively, cover and bake in a 300F oven for an hour).
- when the hour is up, simmer uncovered for another hour or until liquid has reduced by half.
- Add potato and simmer until cooked through, about 25 minutes.
- Add canned beans, stir well and simmer for another five minutes.
- Taste, correct seasoning with salt and pepper. Turn off the heat. Add vinegar (and sugar depending on the sweetness of the beer).
- Serve with the same beer or a powerful red wine and plenty of crusty bread for sopping up the sauce.

Returning to our Roots: Pasta al Pastore

Jonny & Amy — Tue, 31 May 2011 12:03:28 +0000

I remember reading, though I forget where exactly, another food blogger had written words to the effect that any time you start getting a big head about how great your blog is, take a look back at your earliest posts and it will bring you back to earth with a bump. Great advice, though it could just as easily reinforce your view that you’ve come a long way. Indeed, many of us long time bloggers have done just that from those dimly lit, low contrast beginnings, paving the way, I like to think, for all those parvenues with their new cameras and fancier blog templates.

Ironically though, for us at least, what we notice looking back is that while we still love the food we post on our site, it’s often a different kind of food — more complex and, in some cases, pretty arcane — to what we posted back in the beginning. Granted, our technical skills in the kitchen have grown immeasurably in this period as we’ve pushed ourselves to try new techniques, styles and flavor combinations — though we’re still lousy bakers and very limited on the dessert front — but our tastes haven’t changed all that much. We still love the same kinds of unpretentious, rustic cooking, with a distinct bent for the ugly parts of the beast, that we always did, so why don’t we cook like that anymore?

The truth is that we actually do, but that uniquely competitive nature of food blogging makes us feel like we shouldn’t post about it. It’ll seem a presumptuous comparison to anyone who is familiar with his expertise, but when Zen Chef went through a period in the recent past where he remade many of his old posts and noted the improvements in recipe, presentation and technique, it made us feel like we should do the same, if only to update some the godawful shots we took first time around.

In fact, we actually eat many of the dishes we used to post about on a regular basis as week night staples and can produce them faultlessly without thinking about it. Returning to that kind of blogging – this is what we made for dinner, this is what we ate at a hole in the wall place on vacation – would, in many ways, be more honest. Sure, we love Guyanese chow mein, bandeja paisa, mofongo and locro de mondongo, but they aren’t the kind of dishes we eat more than a couple of times a year.

So, it’s motivated by a desire to return, however briefly, to our roots as much as it is against this kind of over-thinking that we decided to do this post. My mother, whose encyclopedic use of regional English idioms was one of her great charms, used to say that the pretentious and the poseurs, those overly concerned with their appearance, were in danger of disappearing up their own trouser legs, and in order to avoid this is rather awkward demise, I decided to post this simple pasta dish from Calabria.

Pasta al pastore or shepherd’s pasta, is nothing more than crumbled hot or sweet Italian sausage (in this case a pound of loose homemade hot sausage meat – thanks Michael Ruhlman), a couple of ladles of pasta water and half a tub of fresh ricotta. There’s nothing to it, but nor is there anything missing. It’s as totally unremarkable as it is exciting and delicious, and could be found just as easily on the menu of a white table cloth restaurant as our house on a Tuesday night. That this is a Lidia Bastianich recipe also returns us to our origins as PBS fans fond of regional Italian cucina povera. Sure, we’ve betrayed our best intentions to go natural and rustic a little by gussying up the plating a little with chive flowers, but our excuse is that we have glut of them in our pots right now and using them up is as honest as it comes.

Pasta al Pastore – Calabrian Shepherd’s-style Pasta (serves 4)
(adapted not at all from Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy by Lidia Bastianich)

Ingredients:

4 hot (or sweet) Italian sausages, skins removed and crumbled
1lb package rigatoni or other tubular pasta
1/2lb fresh ricotta
abundant salted water
2 tablespoons olive oil
Grated pecorino cheese (optional).

Recipe:

Boil well salted water in a large pot
In a large skillet or saute pan, heat oil and crumble in sausage meat. Saute until cooked through.
Add pasta to water and cook for around 7 minutes until under done by about two minutes – i.e. in cross-section pasta is uncooked in the middle
Reserving 2-3 ladles of pasta water, remove pasta from water and add to sausage in saute pan.
Ladle in 2 ladles of pasta water and stir together.
When pasta is cooked through, kill the heat and stir in ricotta.
Sprinkle with grated pecorino and serve with a hearty southern Italian red

Arroz con Gandules (Rice with Pigeon Peas): A Puerto Rican Must-Eat

Amy — Fri, 21 May 2010 23:18:57 +0000

When our readers actually read our posts, it feels really good. Because we often write a lot in our post, it is understandable why some may choose not to actually read our words. We understand how many blogs exist, and many only have time to do the “blog drive-by” (you know what I’m talking about – the “I’m going to just look at the pictures quickly then comment something like damn! that-looks-deeelissssh!” drive by? We’ve all done it). But the thing we love the most about writing a blog about food from all over the world, trying to infuse history, cultural anecdotes and as much authenticity as possible, is when we get schooled. It’s almost like a sick, food-centered type of masochism. It’s almost as if we are bent over some Argentinian, Spanish, French or Italians knee as they spank us very hard telling us how wrong we were about _______________ (insert ethnic dish of choice here). Knowing we have people actually reading what we write (and telling us how we can do things better) makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It shows us that people are actually reading our words and are interested in enlightening people about their culture. When we get something wrong on the blog, getting schooled helps us learn and grow and we love it.

One may think that one of the best perks of having a food blog is getting free truffle products (ok, that friggin rocked), free yogurt (didn’t rock as much as the truffle) or free seasoning packets (that basically sucked) but my favorite “freebie” actually came in the form of a scanned in family recipe. A bit ago, we received an email from a reader that asked us when we were going to take a stab at featuring “Arroz con Gandules” on the blog. He read the blog and understood the research we do in regards to authenticity and asked us to please try his “Puerto Rican Lady Friend’s” recipe. It happened to be a dish we had on that lovely “list of things to make for the blog” so, once we received this, we figured to look no further. We tried the recipe (even having to email the reader back to make sure I could understand his handwriting correctly) and didn’t even bother with any more research. It was that good and that easy to make and a perfect weeknight meal. If you want to mix it up a bit, do as our reader Christine does and serve it along with Puerto Rican slow roasted pork shoulder, Pernil, instead of the bits of pork.

Arroz con Gandules is often thought of as Puerto Rico’s national dish. It is the dish that will most often be made for the Christmas dinner table and after one taste, you will see why. What could be better than a one-pot meal with layers and layers of flavor? What could be better than looking around at your kitchen thinking you have opened up a Goya shop (that is if you don’t make your own sofrito, sazon or use canned peas) What could be better than being able to create a delicious crust of crunchy rice and spices goodness that can form at the bottom of the rice called “pegao“?(**We aren’t talented enough yet to get the pegao right, but I’ll be working on it as soon as we pony up and buy a real caldero). So, here’s to Robert – the reader who so graciously supplied this recipe. We may never have met you, but we think of you every month we make Arroz con Gandules!

ARROZ CON GANDULES (Rice with Pigeon Peas) – serves about 6 as a main to 8 as a side/starter

8 (more or less) slices of bacon, chopped OR three chorizo links cut in chunks
4 to 5 pork chops, cut in chunks (by butcher or with a heavy cleaver) – about 1 to 1/2 lbs of pork
1 small onion, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
3 to 6 cloves of garlic (we love garlic, so put in as little or as much as you’d like)
6 ounces of Goya Sofrito (or your own homemade sofrito - this is our go-to sofrito recipe)
5 cups of water
1 can gandules (pigeon peas)
1 packet of sazón
1/2 teaspoon salt
pinch of oregano (about 1/2 tablespoon)
pinch of cumin (about 1/2 tablespoon)
pinch of pepper
2 bay leaves
1 cup of alcapparado (or just pitted green olives)
2 1/2 cups white rice
olive oil
a lime
scallions
chopped cilantro

What to do:

Heat up a few tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan (that also includes a nice, tightly fitting lid) on medium. Add the bacon (or chorizo) and fry until well cooked but not super crispy. Remove with a slotted spoon to a dish.
Season your pork pieces with some salt and pepper and fry in the remaining oil/rendered bacon fat until the get plenty of color.
After pork pieces get brown, add the chopped onion and tomato and fry for a minute. After a minute, add the garlic and cook for about 20 to 30 seconds.
Add the sofrito and, using a wooden spoon, scrape up all those delicious bits on the bottom of the pan created by the pork. Allow sofrito to cook for about one minute.
Add the water, gandules, alcapparado/olives, spices and herbs, sazon packet and salt and pepper, stir and bring to boil.
When water comes to a boil, add the rice, stir once, cover and turn to low and simmer for 10 minutes.
As Robert’s “Puerto Rican Lady Friends” say, “DO NOT REMOVE THE COVER DURING THE COOKING INTERVALS!”.
Leave covered on low, simmering, for 30 to 40 minutes or until done. Robert says you can check the rice every 10 minutes (but never removing the cover in between these intervals) but, I find that checking every 10 minutes is kind of unnecessary. I usually check every 15 or so. Either way, this part may take a tiny bit of practice until you really know your stove and how high/low the flame needs to be to perfect your rice.
After the 30 to 40 minutes, turn off heat and allow to steam for a few more minutes. Remove cover, then fluff rice. Serve in bowls and sprinkle with some chopped cilantro and sliced scallions and maybe a squeeze of lime. Enjoy with a cold Presidente.

Eat Patatas a lo Pobre and Pollo al Ajillo, and Commute in Comfort

Amy and Jonny — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 18:14:06 +0000

“Eat no garlic nor onions, lest they find out thy boorish origin by the smell…”
-Don Quixote to Sancho Panza, Chapter XLIII,
Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Sitting around the table last night with gusts of strong breath coloring our domestic atmosphere, Amy and I were considering the profound effect garlic has on Spanish cuisine, and we wondered aloud whether any other national cuisine makes such abundant and varied use of the perfumed rose. Certainly, French and Italian food incorporate garlic with spectacular results, as do Greek, most other Mediterranean cuisines, as well as Chinese and Indian, but if there’s a cuisine that, to us, is characterized by garlic, it’s Spanish.

All of which is great, unless you happened to be sitting next to us this morning on the subway, as last night we ate two of the most highly odoriferous dishes in the Iberian canon – patatas a lo pobre and pollo al ajillo. The humble, peasant roots of both these dishes (the former translating as poor man’s potatoes) rely heavily on large quantities of garlic to elevate the otherwise prosaic ingredients to a higher plane. The garlic somehow acts both as a spice and an acid, flavoring the dish while simultaneously cutting through and balancing the olive oil.

We recommend you make enough of both these dishes to share, not just because they make delicious tapas-style small plates, but because you’ll want to surround yourself with similarly pungent folk to avoid people covering their faces and shuffling away down the train as if you had the plague. On the other hand, you do far worse than gain a little extra personal space in this congested city of ours. Maybe we’ve hit on a smart new commuting tactic?

Poor Man’s Potatoes – Patatas a lo Pobre (Serves 2 as a racione, 4 as a tapa)
Ingredients

4-5 tablespoons olive oil
2 large Idaho (or other starchy variety) potatoes, sliced into 1/8 inch rounds
3-4 cloves garlic, minced or very finely chopped
1 tablespoon minced parsley
1 teaspoon chopped thyme, rosemary and/or sage
1 teaspoon sea salt

Recipe

Heat oil in a large skillet or frying pan to medium-high and add sliced potatoes in layers
Sprinkle each layer with salt and turn to coat with oil.
Lower heat to medium-low and, turning occasionally, cook potatoes for about twenty minutes or until they start to get golden brown.
Toss in garlic and herbs and allow to perfume the air.
KIll heat and shaking off excess oil remove potatoes to a serving plate and enjoy with other garlicky dishes.

Chicken in Garlic-Brandy Sauce – Pollo al Ajillo (serves 2 as racione, 4 as a tapa)
Ingredients

1lb chicken (breast, legs, wings are all good), cut into 2inch chunks – use a cleaver
1/2 head garlic, chopped finely
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
3 good tablespoons brandy
1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Recipe

Heat oil in a large skillet or frying pan to medium-high and add seasoned chicken chunks
Allow to brown really well on all sides – at least 8 minutes
Add garlic and after 30 seconds, hit pan with brandy
Very carefully allow brandy to ignite and stand back
When fire has gone out, stir contents and put a close-fitting lid on pan and cook covered for five minutes.
Kill heat, stir in parsley, and serve immediately with bread and wine, surrounded by garlic lovers.

Chocotorta: Can I Get An AMEN!?

Amy — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:18:46 +0000

A quick, sweet post to kick-start your weekend about a ridiculously simple, ridiculously delicious Argentinian dessert – Chocotorta. This very popular dulce de leche-spiked, layered dessert reminds me a bit of tiramisu with an Argentine twist. What could be more Argentinian than dulce de leche? When Joan of Foodalogue revisited her Culinary Tour food event (which I love, by the way) to represent South America, I looked at the list and saw Argentina and thought about all the Argentinian specialities we still wanted to make for the blog. We had done so many Argentine posts before (including locro, milanesas, choripan and the ubiquitous parilla delicacies), but never anything sweet. With the deadline looming, I quickly did what I could to recreate the fabulous, famous Chocotorta. It’s not perfect, but it sure was delicious.

Just like any famous American desserts, the Chocotorta can be made in a variety of ways. It seems as though different families make it different ways. Two things that are constant in every family’s recipe are chocolate wafer cookies or biscuits and dulce de leche. Some soak their cookies/biscuits in coffee before they begin to layer, others soak it in milk, cafe con leche or even sweet wine. Many use a mixture of only cream cheese and dulce de leche for the filling while others use whipped cream or a mixture of whipped and cream cheese. Some top their chocotorta with icing, chocolate or dulce de leche and others just top it with a final layer of cookies/biscuit. I take all these variations as a “freedom of choice” – be creative and make your chocotorta the way you want to!

Unfortunately, I had to “wing it” on the chocolate biscuit front because there were only a limited type at my grocery store. Traditionally, the Argentines use the rectangular Chocolinas to do their layering. I used the circular Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer Cookies (which, after some research are sometimes difficult to find in stores…strange) and even had to throw in a layer of Goya Maria Cookies because I was desperate and ran out of the others (don’t kill me over lack of authenticity, please!). The final result ended up pretty because of the circular cookies and, because I let the flavors meld together for a day, it held together very well and tasted fabulous.

This is most definitely a dessert anyone can make, even someone like me who CAN NOT BAKE. If you can dip, stir and layer, you’re good to go. This recipe probably makes more filling than you need. Do what I did and store it in the freezer for a day when you either want to make another one or (like me) feel like grabbing a spoon and having filling for dessert.

CHOCOTORTA

50 to 60 chocolate cookies or biscuits (Goya and Nabisco have good ones or you could make your own)
1 cup of espresso or coffee
1 cup of dulce de leche or make your own (more if you like! do a taste test!)
1 1/2 cup of cream cheese
1 1/2 cup whipped cream
plastic wrap

Start by lining a square or rectangular pan with plastic wrap, leaving about 8 inches extra on each side. Run another going up and down, again leaving 8 inches extra on each side. You are going to use these extra “flaps” to wrap the Chocotorta up.
In a bowl, whip the cream cheese with the dulce de leche. Use a spatula to fold them in together or a hand mixer to whip them together. Fold in the whipped cream until it is all mixed together.
Now let’s start assembling! Soak each cookie/biscuit in coffee and then start your first layer on the plastic wrap in the pan. After you have created the first layer “bottom” of biscuits, spread the dulce de leche mixture over it, covering it completely. Continue this process layer after layer: soaking each cookie in coffee, creating a layer of cookies, then spreading the dulce de leche mixture over it. Make sure you have at least 4 layers, or go higher if you so dare.
When you are finished layering, add your final layer of cookies/biscuit and then wrap the plastic warp tightly over it and place your labor of love in the fridge. Allow to sit, untouched, for at least 5 hours, preferably overnight. Slice and enjoy!

My Type of Yule Log: Pork Roulade with Sausage, Pistachios and Chestnuts (and Cider Gravy)

Amy — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 12:48:42 +0000

Before we head off to England (and a five day side-trip to Northern France) to visit the across-the-pond family, we wanted to leave you with a different option for your Christmas Day meal. Some families love making hard-core meals for Christmas Day dinner – meals that take hours to cook and include many courses or many side dishes. If that is your type of meal, then you may want to save this recipe for another time (perhaps when you’re hung over on New Year’s Day?). This dish is so flavorful and so freaking easy to make. You know what makes it even better? It’s a cost-effective. So chat with your butcher, make it easier and just ask him/her to butterfly that pork for you, grab a huge mug of egg nog or mulled wine, throw on some Johnny Mathis and spend some time doing what real Americans will be doing – hanging out with Ralphie.

MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKKAH/HAPPY KWANZAA EVERYONE! Thank you for supporting us, commenting on posts and actually reading our words. It means more than you know! Have a delicious 2010!

PORK ROAST ROULADE WITH SAUSAGE, PISTACHIO AND CHESTNUTS WITH CIDER GRAVY (serves 4 to 6 – adapted from When French Women Cook by Madeline Kamman)

2 1/2 to 3 lb. boneless pork roast, butterflied (center cut is best, but we used a tenderloin which worked just fine – the cooking time we list in this recipe is based on a tenderloin which will cook faster than other cuts – internal temp will always be the same, though, about 150-155F. )
1/2 lb. of sweet Italian sausage (loose, not in casings – if you buy it with casings on, just slice it and squeeze out the sausage)
1 egg
1/4 to 1/2 cup of breadcrumbs (you may use more or less to get the right consistency)
1/2 cup of shelled pistachios (about 20-25)
1/2 cup shelled and boiled chestnuts - directions below (you may use jarred/canned chestnuts as well)
1 teaspoon french four spice (aka Quatre èpices)
optional: 1/2 teaspoon ground juniper berries
salt and pepper
1 cup hard cider (preferably French but English or Canadian could do)
3 or 4 tablespoons creme fraiche or sour cream
olive oil
need: kitchen twine and meat thermometer

What to do:

How to shell the chestnuts: With a knife, make and “x” on one end of each chestnut. Bring water to a boil and boil chestnuts for 15 to 20 minutes. The chestnuts will be soft. Peel the chestnut shell off, starting where you placed that “x”. You may also choose to roast your chestnuts by cutting the “x” again at the top and then roast for 15 to 20 minutes in a 400 degree oven, shaking the pan every five minutes.
Time to make the pork! Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
In a bowl, combine the sausage meat, egg, and 1/4 cup of the breadcrumbs. Mix well and add more breadcrumb if mixture is too wet.
Sprinkle the butterflied pork with salt and pepper. Spread the sausage mixture over the whole butterflied pork, leaving a 1/4 inch space on each side. Sprinkle the pistachios and chestnuts all over the sausage – push a bit into the sausage mixture.
Roll the pork up like a cigarette/joint and get your twine ready to be used.
Now, tie up your roast.
Sprinkle pork with the four spice (it’s strong in flavor, so a little goes a long way), rub with olive oil, place in the roasting pan and into your oven.
Roast the pork, at first, for 10 minutes at 450 degrees. Set a timer to remember to turn the oven down after 10 minutes to 250 degrees.
Depending on the size/shape of your pork loin, it will cook for anywhere between 50 and 80 minutes (remember – this is cooking time for a pork tenderloin) or until it reaches an internal temperature of about 150.
Take out of the oven when it has reached temperature, allow to rest under some tented foil for about 15 to 20 minutes.
While pork is resting, make the cider gravy. With the pork roasting pan on your stove top, deglaze the pan with the cider and allow to cook down for a few minutes, picking up all the goodness from the bottom of the pan. Pour this into a cup or small bowl and allow to sit for a few minutes. Using a baster (or, more tediously, a spoon), remove the fat from the lean part of the gravy. Add gravy back to pan, reheat on low and taste to add some salt and pepper. Add the sour cream and blend with a whisk. When sauce comes up to perfect temperature, it’s ready to be served.
Slice pork with a sharp knife – about 1 1/2 to 2 inches thick. Pour gravy over pork and enjoy!

Garlic Soup: Pure Auvergnois Peasant Food

Jonny — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:42:55 +0000

Turning rustic country fare into a slick restaurant best-seller has become so hackneyed these days that finding a post-modern reconstructed pot-au-feu for $45 in a hot new city dining spot can’t be far away. However, (and while we may be wrong) it might be a while before this garlic and wine soup hits high-end eateries — and not because it’s not restaurant-grade food, but rather because it’s the kind of dish that seems like it can neither be adapted nor re-imagined in a single way that wouldn’t detract from the original.

Do not to be discouraged by the glut of garlic called for, even if you’re cooking for those suspicious of its myriad charms. For, while it is unavoidably redolent of the “perfumed rose”, the flavor is mellow rather than aggressive, far cleaner than you might reasonably expect, and altogether heartier than a simple garlic and broth concoction would suggest.

This recipe is taken wholesale from Madeleine Kamman’s When French Women Cook, and if you don’t already own a copy of this classic tome, then you should endure no more of your life without it. It is evocative of the no-nonsense, waste-not philosophy of female-run home kitchens in pre-war rural France, where chickens pecked outside and extra dietary protein arrived under cover of darkness from the local poacher. Emblematic of the authentic, hearty and stunningly delicious food within its pages, Kamman’s garlic soup recipe comes from the rugged Auvergne — a mysterious and wild region of south central France rumored to still harbor wolves, even bears — via the hands of a distant grandmaternal, Occitan-speaking cousin named Victoire.

There are no pictures of food in When French Women Cook. This lack of illustration, far from confounding the reader and potential cook, actually encourages use of the imagination to mentally conjure what the text describes. Arriving at the completed dish, confidence in your ability to interpret a recipe is bolstered as you behold a meal that truly transcends what the bleak gulleys of your cerebrum had conceived. A rewarding experience corporally and spiritually, just steer clear of close-packed public places for the ensuing 24 hours — you will positively hum with garlic. Hum.

Soupe a L’ail et au Vin (Garlic and Wine Soup)

Ingredients:

3-4 heads garlic (40-50 cloves)
4oz pancetta or ventreche, cubed
3tbsp plain flour
5 cups warm veal (or beef) stock
1/2cup dry white wine
3 egg yolks
salt and black pepper
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1 cup cantal cheese (gruyere or emmentaler also work well)
6 slices toasted country bread

Recipe:

Separate each clove of garlic from the head and crush lightly with the side of a knife. Do not remove the skin.
Reserve one clove. Peel it and chop it finely. Keep for later use.
Gently render the cubed pancetta in a large stockpot, until pieces are golden brown.
Add flour and stir into the fat. Cook for 3-5 minutes.
Gradually add warm stock to roux, stirring constantly.
Bring to a boil and add the garlic. Simmer for 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, mix the white wine with the egg yolks in a 1-quart measuring jug.
After 45 minutes, strain soup through a sieve, or use a slotted spoon to remove garlic and skins. Return soup to pot.
Add several ladle-fulls of the simmering liquid to the eggs and wine to gently heat (temper) the yolks.
Then, add the egg yolk mixture back to the stock pot and stir well.
Reheat soup until it shows a few bubbles. Do not allow to boil.
Taste and correct seasoning.
Mash the reserved garlic clove with chopped parsley (make a persillade).
Place bread slice in bottom of soup bowl, top with cantal cheese, and ladle soup over top.
Sprinkle the whole thing with persillade.
Enjoy with a rough red table wine and extra bread. Finish meal with something minty, you’ll need it.

Fancy Up Your BBQ Side Dish (And A Rant): Warm Buttered Pea, Potato, Herb and Prosciutto Salad

Amy — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 17:01:57 +0000

Originally, I was going to simply write a one paragraph post helping people understand that they should not be afraid to use butter when necessary. Unfortunately, I realized how much emotional turmoil I have when it comes to this subject and others. A nice recipe for a Buttered Pea and Potato Salad had somehow turned into a major rant against fake butter and “light” olive oil. I apologize to any margarine lover and extra virgin olive oil hater I may offend in the process of reading this post!

I think (and hope) that our countries obsession with being and eating “fat free” is pretty much over. When the Atkins Diet was the biggest thing I started worrying that the earth was coming to a quick end and we’d all die skinny but sad and craving a steaming bowl of pasta. Why are some Americans so obsessed with supposedly eating “healthy” when they are actually eating completely unhealthy?

Substituting crap like margarine for butter is ridiculous. I think that this WikiAnswer explains why. In fact, this Serious Eats post helps put into perspective the vast number of fake butter “spreads” that exist around the world. How sickening that people want to buy a product that actually tells them it is NOT butter? Hello, people! They are telling us loud and clear that this is something created to taste like a real, natural product but isn’t! Then why not eat the real thing? I’m so confused.

And while we’re discussing Americans ability to be a sucker for lower fat items while being willing to compromise it for lower quality, lower flavor and lower nutritional value, it’s no surprise that the US could’ve easily fallen for this trick if it worked (and even though these guys were caught, I’m sure there are many make it here and are being purchased every day). I shudder to think that anyone would actually buy something labeled “light olive oil”. Why? WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYY (screaming)? Why would anyone take something that is pure, natural and good for you and hack away at it until it can be labeled light? Light olive oils are a marketing hook, people! They are not lighter in calories than regular olive oil but, instead, lighter in color, taste and nutritional value (hmmm, no crap – they are heavily modified through heating and filtering and not really olive oil!). Here’s a look at what those light olive oils are really about:

“Light” olive oil is a marketing concept and not a classification of olive oil grades. It is completely unregulated by any certification organizations and therefore has no real precedent to what its content should be. Sometimes, the olive oil is cut with other vegetable oils.

So in order for consumers to feel like they are actually eating “light”, they are willing to compromise flavor, health and deliciousness. According to a 1989 NY Times Article, ‘‘Light olive oil was invented by the Bertolli company in this office in Secaucus, N.J.,” said William C. Monroe, president of Bertolli USA. ”It’s an American invention.” Nothing screams fabulous, healthy product like the words, “created in an office in Secaucus, NJ”. Have you ever been to Secaucus? Enough said. (Why am I laughing at the thought of people taking vacations to trod through the “olive tree fields” in Seacaucus as a cheap alternative to a trip to Italy? Maybe those are the same people willing to buy into the whole light olive oil trick?)

If anyone is going to use this “light” olive oil stuff, please keep it’s use to high heat cooking (olive oil has a low smoke point) or baking. But, if that’s the case, why not just use other natural kind of oils?

I feel confident closing this rant by giving you a natural and delicious side dish recipe. Use real unsalted butter. Do not take shortcuts. Do not be worried about the fat. Did you know that 1 tablespoon of butter has less calories than 1 tablespoon of olive oil? Don’t be afraid! Just embrace it. Even our good friend, Caviar and Codfish used it in their Pea and Potato Salad!

WARM BUTTERED PEA, POTATO, HERB AND PROSCIUTTO SALAD (serves 4)

Ingredients:

1/2 pound of fresh shelled peas (or a box of frozen peas)
8 small new potatoes, boiled till medium-soft and sliced in half (or about 12-16 fingerling potatoes)
1/4 pound slab of prosciutto (or you can get it sliced in thick slices), julienned
1/2 onion, thin sliced in half moons (we used Vidalia, but white onion or shallots could be used)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons julienned basil
2 tablespoons julienned sage
2 tablespoons minced chives
1 tablespoon minced parsley
salt and pepper to taste

What to do:

Boil potatoes until firm but not crunchy (between 8 and 12 minutes depending on size of potatoes). Use a knife to check. Remove from water using slotted spoon and reserve water.
Bring water back to boil and throw fresh peas in for two to three minutes until tender. If using frozen peas, throw in for 30 seconds to one minute – they just need warming up. Drain.
Immediately, in a bowl, combine the potatoes and peas with the herbs, prosciutto, onion and butter and toss it all together. Finally, season with salt and pepper to taste. Enjoy!

Lettuce Convince You – Butter Lettuce Soup is Good!

Amy — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:42:14 +0000

Ahhh, don’t you love a nice, cheesy pun in the morning? I know I do! If there was an emoticon (Omg, am I dating myself by using that word? Do people even use the word emoticon anymore? Do emoticons even exist anymore?! A quick search shows yes. Still, why do I feel like such a geek for discussing emoticons? Do I even want emoticons to exist anymore? Ok, back to the sentence) showing someone giving a wink, wink, nudge, nudge or slamming on to the top of a microphone saying, “Is this thing on!?” then that would have gone at the end of the post title.

Regardless of how stupid the title of this post is, the finished product was better than expected. Since I met my husband Jonny, I have heard about his mother’s famous Lettuce Soup, always made with butter lettuce (also called Boston or Bibb). Unfortunately, Jonny’s mother passed away many years ago and he is left only with the memories of the way his mother cooked this fabulous soup, remembering the flavors only in his mind.

This soup is meant for summertime, when lettuce is absolutely fresh and it’s too warm outside to eat a bowl of piping hot soup. In fact, like a gazpacho, melon or cucumber soup, this soup is to be eaten cold. Think of how delicious a crisp salad with buttermilk dressing is – the flavors just go together. This soup is very basic, very simple and very refreshing.

So I raise a glass to Jonny’s mom and thank her for not only raising an amazing man, but also for serving her kids her lettuce soup!

BUTTER LETTUCE SOUP (Serves 3 or 4 as a main, 6 as a starter)
Ingredients:

2 heads of Butter Lettuce (aka Bibb or Boston)
bit of olive oil or a pat of butter
1 large onion, diced
1/2 potato, peeled, cubed and boiled till soft
1/8 cup chopped chives
3 tablespoons fino sherry or white wine
1 1/2 cup veggie stock (or chicken stock)
1 cup buttermilk (or you can thin 2 tablespoons of sour cream with some regular light cream- but I recommend buttermilk)
ice bath
stick blender or regular blender

What to do:

Boil some water and make an ice bath by putting ice cubes and cold water into a bowl. Chop the bottom of the lettuce and immerse the leaves of the lettuce in the boiling water for thirty seconds. With tongs, remove the lettuce from the boiling water and “shock” them in the ice water to keep their color. After cooking in the ice water, remove and allow to drain and dry on a towel.
Meanwhile, in a tablespoon of olive oil (or a pat of butter), sauté the diced onion until translucent. After three minutes or so, add the boiled potato and stir. Add a pinch of salt. Toss in half the chives and stir again. After a minute, add the fino sherry or wine and allow to cook down (about one minute). As soon as the alcohol has been absorbed, add the stock and stir. Add the rest of the chives and allow to cook for 30 seconds then kill the fire.
Remove pot from stove and add half the cup of buttermilk to the pot along with the cooled and drained lettuce and start blending in the pot with the stick blender (if using a blender, add everything in and puree). Add the final bit of buttermilk and blend one more time.
Chill in the fridge for an hour or in the freezer for 20 to 30 minutes.
Serve in bowls with some chopped chives and sliced radish and swirl in some thinned sour cream, buttermilk or regular cream! Enjoy.