Lemon Crème Brûlée

Like most, I crave a sweet thing at the end of a meal. A square of chocolate usually does the trick. But when people come over, I make dessert. Mostly, I do it to please others. I learned long ago that a grand, sugary finale makes people swoon. It matters less the hours you marinate the protein, the itsy bitsy chopped herbs you sprinkle on the plate. What they really want is dessert.

And so I have developed a small repertoire of killer sweets. Having recently acquired a new, slim kitchen toy that doubles as a welding tool, I have added crème brûlée to my dessert list. This is that chilled, creamy dish with a brittle veneer you find in most French restaurants. Most of us have the ingredients in our fridge at all times.

Crème brûlée can be mixed up in half an hour. It keeps in the fridge for a few days. If you don’t want to spend about $20 on a torch, get your broiler very hot and run the filled ramekins under the flame for a few minutes. You really can’t serve crème brûlée without the crispy top.

For extra credit, play around with flavored crème brûlée. Because it’s made with cream, you can drop tasty things into the cream while it heats. This infuses the dish with the flavor you choose, be it lemon peel, lavender springs, cloves, dried roses, lemongrass stalks, ginger knobs, etc. For fancy flecks of black from vanilla, scrape the insides of a vanilla pod into the cream. Strain the cream after it’s heated and proceed with the recipe.

Take my advice. A sure-fire way to make your guests happy is to make them a homemade dessert. Don’t worry about ironing the napkins or clearing away the clutter before the guests arrive. Cook them something sweet. Dessert masks many a domestic shortcoming.

 

Lemon Crème Brûlée
Adapted from long departed, good old Gourmet magazine

Serves 8

3 large lemons
3 cups heavy cream
About 10 tablespoons sugar, preferably turbinado
Salt
6 large egg yolks
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Special equipment: 8 (4-oz) flameproof ramekins; a small blowtorch

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 325º F.

Finely grate 3 tablespoons zest from lemons into cream in a medium-sized heavy saucepan. Stir in 7 tablespoons sugar and a pinch of salt. Heat mixture over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until almost boiling. Remove from heat.

Lightly beat yolks in a bowl, then gradually whisk in hot cream. Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a quart-size glass measure and stir in vanilla and 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice. Divide among ramekins.

Arrange ramekins in a roasting pan and bake in a water bath (filling roasting pan with boiling water to halfway up sides of ramekins), until custards are just set around edge but centers wobble when pan is gently shaken, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool custards in water bath 20 minutes, then remove from pan and chill, uncovered, at least 4 hours. (Custards will set completely as they chill.)

Sprinkle about 1/2 teaspoon sugar evenly over each custard, then move blowtorch flame evenly back and forth close to sugar until sugar is caramelized. Let stand until caramel is hardened, 3 to 5 minutes.

Cooks’ note: Custards can be chilled, covered with a sheet of plastic wrap after 4 hours, up to 2 days. Very gently blot with paper towels before sprinkling with sugar and caramelizing.

 

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Falafel

chickpeas ready to be soaked

 

The weeknight shuffle. How to get dinner on the table with minimal hassle and maximum taste? Keep it seasonal. Make it vegetarian (often). Vary the offerings. Use what you have. These are my little mantras, the things I repeat to myself for focus and personal pep talking.

soak chickpeas while you sleep

 

chop what you have for a little side salad

 

Having recently acquired a new cookbook, Jerusalem, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, I have been cooking my way through it. This is colorful, flavorful food with an emphasis on vegetables. Lots of spice and crunch. Excellent for people trying to eat less meat (garbanzo beans are your friends).

 

simple ingredients that taste good together

 

make the food processor do the work

 

Last night, I made falafel for dinner. Stuffed in warmed whole wheat pita breads, smeared with tahini sauce with a side of chopped radishes and cucumbers mixed up with Greek yogurt, minced parsley and lemon juice. Even the picky teenager enjoyed it. This probably had more to do with the fact that falafel are fried. But that’s OK. We took a little trip to the mideast and had a tasty vegetarian dinner made in a little over an hour.

 

chill the mixture to make flavors meld and for easier handling

 

a fried treat for dinner

 

 

Falafel
From Jerusalem

Serves 4 (about 20 balls)

1 1/4 cups dried chickpeas
1/2 medium onion, finely chopped (1/2 cup)
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon finely chopped flat leaf parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped cilantro
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3 tablespoons water
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
about 3 cups sunflower oil, for deep-frying
1/2 teaspoon sesame seeds, for coating
salt

Place the chickpeas in a large bowl and cover with cold water at least twice their volume. Set aside to soak overnight.

The next day, drain the chickpeas well and combine them with the onion, garlic, parsley, and cilantro. For best results, use a meat grinder for the next part. Put the chickpea mixture through the machine, set to its finest setting, then pass it through the machine a second time. You can also use a food processor (I did and it worked fine). Blitz the mixture, pulsing until it is finely chopped but not mushy or pasty. Once processed, add the spices, baking powder, 3/4 teaspoons of salt, flour and water. Mix well by hand until smooth and uniform. Cover the mixture and leave it in the fridge for at least an hour, or until ready to use. I made the mixture in the morning so it would be ready for dinner with minimal fuss.

Fill a deep, heavy-bottomed medium saucepan with enough oil to come 2 3/4 inches up the sides of the pan. Heat the oil to 350 F.

With wet hands, press 1 tablespoon of the mixture in the palm of your hand to form a patty or a ball the size of a small walnut, about a scant 1 ounce.

Sprinkle the balls evenly with sesame seeds and deep-fry them in batches for 4 minutes, until well-browned and cooked through. It is important they really dry out on the inside, so make sure they get enough time in the oil. Drain in a colander lined with paper towels and serve at once.

 

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Ballymaloe Chicken Liver Paté

ballymaloe chicken liver pateOn a trip to Ireland years ago, I discovered the Ballymaloe Cooking School and Restaurant. It’s big old manor house nestled in the green, cashmere landscape of County Cork, with a walled garden where the cooks pick fresh herbs and vegetables to serve at meals. I loved it there. I still dream about going back.

Eating lunch in the high-ceilinged dining room at Ballymaloe, I remember being served a little pot of chicken liver paté with melba toasts. Maybe it was the fire crackling in the hearth near our table. Or the ponies grazing in the meadows beyond the huge, double-hung windows. But that was the best paté I’d ever had.

inside ballymaloe, in ireland

I recently found the recipe for it in Darina Allen’s wonderful book, Forgotten Skills of Cooking. Packed with stories and time-tested tips, she writes about curing meats, smoking fish, drying fruit, making pickles and many other culinary feats. The photos are beautiful. The recipes are clear and easy to follow. Allen has passionate opinions about food but isn’t sanctimonious. She’s a pleasure to read.

Every time I buy a whole chicken, I pop the liver in the freezer in a zipped bag filled with livers from past birds. When I have enough, I defrost the livers and make this paté. The paté goes into little ramekins which, covered in plastic wrap, go back in the freezer for a future ready-made, luxury hors d’oeuvre. When I dip my rounded butter knife into the ramekin, I am transported back to County Cork.

serve pate in ramekins

 

Ballymaloe Chicken Liver Paté

Adapted from Forgotten Skills of Cooking by Darina Allen

Serves 10-12

8 oz fresh organic chicken livers
2 tablespoons brandy
8 tablespoons butter, cut into cubes, plus a little for cooking livers
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 large garlic clove, crushed
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Clarified butter* to seal the top

Wash the livers and remove any membrane or green-tinged bits. Melt a little butter in a frying pan. When it foams, add the livers and cook over a low heat. All trace of pink should be gone, but be careful not to overcook them or the outsides will get crusty. Put the livers into a food processor.

Deglaze the pan with brandy and allow it to flame. Add the crushed garlic and thyme leaves, stirring for two minutes then scraping everything into the food processor with the livers. Purée for a few seconds. Let cool.

Add 6 tablespoons of the butter pieces and purée again until smooth. Season with salt and pepper, taste, and add more butter if necessary. The paté should taste fairly mild and be quite smooth in texture.

Put into six 4-ounce ramekins, or one medium sized terrine and knock out an air bubbles by firmly banging the ramekins on the counter a few times. Then pour clarified butter over the top to seal.

Serve with melba toast or toasted white bread. This paté will keep up to 5 days in the refrigerator or it can be frozen for a month or so. Eat immediately after it is defrosted.

* To make clarified butter, melt butter gently in a saucepan or in a Pyrex cup in a very low oven, at 300˚F. Let stand for a few minutes, then spoon the crusty white layer of salt particles off the top. Underneath is a clear liquid butter, the clarified butter. Spoon this liquid into a jar, and throw out the milky liquid at the bottom. Keep Clarified butter in the fridge for cooking foods at a high heat. Butter starts to burn at 350˚F. Clarified butter can be heated up to 485˚F.

 

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Arroz con Pollo

The temperature has dropped in New York, calling for One-Pot Wonders. These are unfussy meals served from one pan.  Because many of the classics emphasize  starch plus protein (such as tuna-noodle casserole, lasagna, beef stew, etc.), I prefer to adapt the recipes to add in more vegetables. The best one-pot wonders are nutritional one-stop shopping, meaning no side dishes to make or extra pans to wash.

one pot wonders satisfy hunger and simplify meals

This is Latino style peasant food at its best. Serious comfort food. A jumble of flavor, texture and color, Arroz con Pollo has thousands of variations. My first memory of the dish is in the early 1980s, at the counter of La Rosita, a hole-in-the-wall joint on upper Broadway that was a favorite of ex-pat Dominicans, Cubans and puertorriqueños. As well as Columbia students and impoverished artist-types (the category I saw myself in). Fragrant, steamy rice cooked with chicken pieces. And nary a veggie in sight.

the window of long-gone la rosita on broadway

It would be easy to cook this in a slow cooker, if you have one. Be sure to brown the chicken pieces first, though. Slow cookers do meat a disservice if pieces are left whole in the final presentation. Once meat is browned, throw all the other ingredients in the slow cooker and set to low, cooking for 8 hours or so. You’ll come home to a house that smells inviting and dinner ready to eat.

 

Arroz con Pollo

Serves 4-6

For chicken
6 garlic cloves, chopped
Juice from 3 limes
1 teaspoon dried oregano
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 (3 1/2- to 4-lb) chicken, cut into 8 pieces; or 10 bone-in, skin-on thighs
2 tablespoons cooking oil

For rice
2 medium onions, chopped fine (about 2 cups)
3 large garlic cloves, minced
1 red pepper, chopped into 1” x ¼” strips
1 small winter squash (about 1 pound), peeled and cut into 1” cubes
3 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 bunch kale, stems removed and leaves chopped small
1 bay leaf
½ teaspoon hot red pepper flakes (optional)
1 15-oz can diced tomatoes, including juice
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 1/2 cups water
2 cups long-grain white rice
½ cup fresh cilantro, minced (optional, for garnish)

 

Prepare chicken:

Purée garlic, lime juice, oregano, salt, and pepper in a blender until smooth. Put chicken pieces in a bowl or shallow dish and add purée, turning to coat. Marinate chicken, covered and chilled, at least 30 minutes but up to 24 hours.

Transfer chicken to paper towels, then pat dry. Reserve marinade.

Heat oil in 6- to 8-quart heavy pot or Dutch oven over a medium-high heat, then brown chicken in 2 or 3 batches, without crowding, turning occasionally, about 10 minutes per batch. Transfer browned chicken to a plate, reserving fat in pot.

 

Prepare rice:

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat to 350°F.

Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of fat remaining in pot. Sauté onions, garlic, peppers, and squash over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally and scraping up brown bits from chicken, until vegetables are softened, 6 to 8 minutes.

Add cumin and salt to vegetables and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. Stir in wine, scraping bottom of pot, and bubble for 1 minute. Add kale, bay leaf, red pepper flakes, tomatoes (including juice), broth, water, and reserved marinade. Stir to combine and bring to a boil.

Add all chicken except breast pieces (if using), skin sides up, and gently simmer, covered, over low heat 10 minutes. Stir in rice, then add breast pieces, skin sides up, and arrange chicken in 1 layer.  (For maneuverability, you may need to remove chicken pieces temporarily while stirring in rice, then replace pieces in one layer on top of rice and vegetable mix.) Return to a simmer. Cover pot tightly, then transfer to oven and bake until rice is tender and most of liquid is absorbed, about 20 minutes.

After testing rice for doneness and seasoning (adjust if more salt or pepper is needed), let pot rest out of the oven, covered, for 10 minutes. Garnish each serving with cilantro.

 

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Pear Cranberry Crisp

pear cranberry crisp using bosc pears

 

On the eve of America’s greatest food holiday, Thanksgiving, I am tasked with making a fruit dessert for the family spread. As I’m not a pumpkin pie person (texture problem), nor one to deny people their right to butter (life is too short), I chose to make a crisp. Pears and cranberries will be deployed. Both are fruit stars of the season and locally grown to boot.

Also called a crumble, a cobbler, or “Apple Brown Betty” by my mother’s generation (who made it with bread), a crisp should be just that. Crispy on top, melting and yielding inside. It can be as sweet as you like, or even salty if that’s your thing. Think salted caramels. Or our local ice cream shop’s genius flavor, “Salted Crack Caramel,” made with saltines. Use the fruit at hand. Apples, rhubarb, quince, figs, cranberries, figs. Berries in summer.

As soon as the weather gets cool enough to warrant wearing wool, I mix up a batch of the crisp topping, decant to Ziploc plastic baggies and freeze for instant use when dessert must be summoned. Homemade fast food. Sometimes, you just want to eat crisp! Peel and cut up whatever fall fruit you have around, toss with a little sugar and spice, sprinkle over your frozen topping and bake. Presto, a warm dessert that comforts instantly.

Or breakfast. Cold crisp with a spoonful of yogurt makes a perfect morning food, especially if you add oats to the topping for extra nutrition and rib-sticking. Home cook wonder woman Deb Perelman has a brand new cookbook out with the ideal recipe.

Happy and delicious Thanksgiving to you, dear reader. Ever grateful, Nan

 

Pear Cranberry Pecan Crisp

Serves 8-10

For topping:
2/3 cup pecans, toasted for 6 minutes in 375˚F oven
1 1/3 cups flour
6 tablespoons brown sugar
1 ½ tablespoons sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon (optional)
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks/6 ounces) cold, unsalted butter, cut into ¼” pieces

For the filling:
4 lbs pears (Bosc or Bartlett), peeled, cored and cut into 1” chunks
1½ cups fresh cranberries
¾ cup sugar
6 tablespoons flour
1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish.

Mix the dry topping ingredients together in a bowl. Work the butter into the flour mixture with your fingers until the mixture comes together and has a crumbly, but not sandy texture. Or use a food processor and pulse a few times until you get the crumbly texture. Chill until ready to use. Topping can be made ahead and refrigerated for about a week, or frozen up to 2 months.

Mix pears, cranberries, sugar, flour and cinnamon in large bowl. Transfer to dish. Crumble topping over fruit. Bake until fruit is tender and topping is lightly browned, about 1¼ hours. Cool for 10 minutes before serving. Serve with vanilla ice cream or softly whipped cream.

 

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Spicy Zucchini Soup

vegan vegetarian gluten-free spicy zucchini soup

Every summer, my inner beach bum emerges and I toy with the idea of ditching everything and finding a beach shack to call home. Not a responsible, reasonable idea, I know. My safe solution is to cook summer foods until the last local tomato drops from the vine. To wear sandals well into October (no, not with socks). To swim in the ocean after Columbus Day.

zucchiini summer squash

Before you fall headlong into the realm of autumn (pears, chestnuts, leeks, etc.), stretch out summer by using all the great produce still plentiful in the markets. There are still summer squashes to be cooked, ears of corn to be shucked. It’s not over yet!

Tired of zucchini after the seemingly endless supply of it these past months? Try this simple, fast puréed soup. It’s packed with vegetables, has no dairy or gluten (if you care) and the spices elevate the soup to an exotic-seeming, Goa-inspired velouté. Serve chilled on an Indian summer day or hot to warm you from inside. The bright green color takes it way beyond the usual soggy pile of sautéed zucchini that gives this vegetable a bad name.

cinnamon coriander fennel cumin pepper caraway seeds

Eminently flexible, this recipe withstands all sorts of adaptations. Try making it with butternut squash (much more autumnal). Use leeks or parsnips instead of zucchini. In fact, this is like a master-puréed-vegetable-soup recipe, with an Indian kick. No canned chicken stock needed. Just vegetables, water and spice. The toasted nuts add depth and make it feel special.

Go to the farmer’s market and buy a box of summer squash. Make boatloads of this soup and freeze portioned containers. There will come a cold day in December and you will have this soup, feel a flash of summer, and share a meal with your inner beach bum.

blended spicy zucchini soup

 

Spicy Zucchini Soup with Toasted Almonds
Adapted from Martha Stewart

Serves 4-6

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium-sized onion, chopped roughly
1 tablespoon salt
2 garlic cloves, chopped roughly
1 teaspoon mild curry powder, preferably homemade (recipe below)
1½ pounds zucchini, trimmed and cut into chunks
1 potato (about 6 oz), peeled and cut into chunks
4 cups water
1/3 cup sliced almonds, toasted, for garnish

Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Add chopped onion and cook for 5 minutes or until softened, stirring occasionally. Sprinkle with salt and add garlic. Stir to combine and cook about a minute. Add curry and stir, then add zucchini and potato. Sauté for five more minutes.

Pour water over vegetable mixture and turn up heat, bringing the mixture to boil. Lower heat and simmer about 10 minutes, or until potato is just tender.

Transfer in batches to a blender (never more than 1/2 full, to avoid messy, painful accidents), blending until smooth and creamy. Serve hot or cold, with toasted almonds as a garnish.

 

turmeric ginger cayenne spices to make homemade curry powder

 

Curry Powder

Everyone has a recipe for this spice blend. Mine is culled from Madhur Jaffrey and Peter Berley, two chefs I admire. Making your own blend has the advantage of tasting fresh and lively, and allowing you to amplify certain flavors to your liking. Cayenne equals heat so if you like a lot, add more. Invest in a simple coffee grinder (about $20) and dedicate it to spices.

2 tablespoons whole coriander seeds
1 tablespoon whole cumin seeds
½ cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 teaspoon peppercorns
5 whole cloves
1 teaspoon whole mustard seeds (brown or yellow)
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon ground turmeric
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

Heat a small, cast iron skillet over medium-low heat. Add coriander, cumin, cinnamon, caraway, fennel, peppercorns, cloves and mustard seeds. Stir until spices smell toasted and fragrant, about 2 minutes. Turn out onto clean plate to cool.

Transfer spices to coffee or spice grinder and grind finely. Add ginger, turmeric and cayenne and stir to combine. Use a clean glass jar to store the spice blend and keep in cool, dry place for up to 2 months.

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Cheese Soufflé

Oh, those jiggly, towering triumphs. French-accented, impress-your-date confections. Why are soufflés so intimidating? Many home cooks fear them as the unattainable. The thing that could ruin them. This is so untrue.

By now perhaps you’ve celebrated Julia Child’s 100th birthday – on Facebook, in your kitchen, or while reading Jacques Pepin’s lovely ode to Julia in this week’s NY Times. In my house, where friends were over for lunch on the day of her birthday, I made them a classic cheese soufflé from meager provisions in my forsaken fridge. It was sublime.

almost any cheese can be used - this is gruyere

ingedients for a soufflé can be found in most fridges

 

All you need are 5 eggs, ¼ pound of cheese, a cup of milk and pat of butter. If you have a box of spinach in your freezer, or CSA zucchini that just won’t quit, cook it up in a quick sauté and add just before folding in the fluffy whites. Voilà spinach or  zucchini soufflé.

The trick to soufflé is the fluff. Those whites need to be whipped up to a glistening tower. Fold them in with great love and respect. Don’t lose the fluffiness. It’s OK to have streaks of white in the “batter.” Keep the volume. And once out of the oven, serve it immediately. That’s it.

gently fold the stiffly beaten egg whites to keep the fluff

sprinkle the buttered dish with cheese for a salty-crisp crust

 

Try it now. Make yourself proud and bake a soufflé in Julia’s honor. What’s the worst that can happen? You end up with a baked egg dish – completely edible.

If the summer heat is making you feel like a collapsed soufflé, put off this recipe until nightfall. It takes about 30 minutes to throw together and needs only a simple salad to make it a meal. A perfect summer supper Julia would have loved to share with you.

serve soufflé with boston lettuce in a mustard vinaigrette

 

Cheese Soufflé

Slightly adapted from Julia Child, Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Serves 4

1 tablespoon grated Parmesan (or other hard) cheese
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons white flour
1 cup boiling milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground pepper, a few twists
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Pinch of nutmeg
4 egg yolks
5 egg whites
Pinch of salt
3/4 cup (3 ounces) coarsely grated Swiss, Gruyère, Goat and/or Parmesan Cheese

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Measure out all your ingredients. Generously butter a 6-cup soufflé mold and sprinkle the insides with grated Parmesan cheese.

Melt the butter in a 3-quart, heavy saucepan. Stir in the flour with a wooden spoon and cook over a moderate heat until butter and flour foam together for 2 minutes without browning. Remove from heat. Pour in all the boiling milk at once (I heat milk in the microwave). Beat vigorously with a whisk until blended. Beat in the seasonings. Return over moderately high heat and boil, stirring with the whisk, for one minute. This sauce – the béchamel – will be very thick.

Remove from heat. Separate the eggs, discarding one egg yolk (or saving it in your fridge to pump up a sauce, or yellow up an omelet the next day). Place the whites in a clean, dry non-reactive bowl (stainless steel, porcelain or glass for most of us, copper for Julia). If there’s a trace of yolk in the whites, they won’t rise sufficiently! The trick is to separate the whites individually into a small bowl. Dump each white into the larger bowl only after ensuring there’s no errant yolk. This way you can easily throw one away without polluting the whole bowl. Add the 4 yolks to the béchamel and whisk them in.

Beat whites with a pinch of salt by hand, with a whisk, or with an electric beater. Start slow, watching the eggs begin to foam. Gradually increase speed and beat until stiff. The whites should be about 8 times their original volume. They’ll stand in stiff peaks.

Stir a big spoonful of the beaten egg whites into the béchamel to lighten the sauce. Don’t worry about the egg whites maintaining their volume here. Add all but 1 tablespoon of the grated cheese. Stir to combine into a creamy yellow sauce.

Fold in the remaining egg whites very gently, with a delicate hand. Use a rubber spatula to cut into the middle of the bowl and carefully turn the ingredients over. Keep the fluff. Don’t worry if there are streaks of white in the mixture.

Turn the soufflé mixture into the prepared mold, which should be about 3/4 full. Tap bottom of the mold on the counter and smooth the top with the spatula. Sprinkle the remaining cheese on top.

Place in the oven, immediately turning the heat down to 375°F. Do not open the oven door for at least 20 minutes. In 25 minutes, the soufflé will have puffed 1-2 inches from the rim of the mold and the top will be nicely browned. Bake 5 minutes longer and serve at once.

 

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Blueberry Muffins

We grew up with her. Tattered, stained and dog-eared. Always at hand. We shoved her aside when food fashions changed. And yet, who among us didn’t need her from time to time, like a trusted friend?

I’m talking about The Fannie Farmer Cookbook. This week, Marion Cunningham died. She revised the cookbook in the late 1970s, updating a classic for new generations of home cooks. I read her obituary with a tug of nostalgia. Most of my first cooking experiences included Fannie.

the fannie farmer cookbook

 

Edited by the legendary Judith Jones, best known for bringing us Julia Child’s Mastering The Art of French Cooking, Cunningham’s cookbook champions everyday cooking. In her preface, she urges us to rediscover the pleasure of cooking from scratch: “Every meal should be a small celebration.” I love this ethos.

If you don’t already own a copy – or didn’t inherit one as I did from my grandmother, complete with sidebar pencil scratchings such as “Add capers,” or “Made for dinner 8/12/82. Good.” – then get one. Not that you necessarily want to make a Cheese Ball, Cocktail Frankfurters in Pastry, or even Tuna Noodle Casserole. Yes, this is true Americana. It’s the un-gourmet.

muffin tins

 

There are countless workhorse staples in this cookbook that you will turn to again and again. The first chapter, “About the Kitchen,” is an excellent primer for every home cook, full of advice on pantry basics and equipment. As you cook your way through The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, you can annotate the margins, bake cookies with an eight year-old, and hand down your copy when the time comes.

fresh blueberries

 

In honor of Marion Cunningham, I made blueberry muffins this morning. Blueberries abound in the market now, cheap and plentiful. My inner gourmet wanted to amp it up and add whole wheat flour and cornmeal for texture and health. But in deference to the master, and for my own Proustian event, I followed the recipe almost to the letter. Our house enjoyed them for breakfast. By lunch, they were all gone. Thank you, Ms. Cunningham.

simple but good blueberry muffins

 

Blueberry Muffins

Adapted from The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, 1979 edition

Makes 12 muffins

If you want to eat these hot out of the oven for breakfast but feel daunted by the prospect of such an early morning endeavor, make these the night before and keep covered, unbaked, in the fridge. Replace ½ cup of the white flour with whole wheat and/or cornmeal if you like things more gritty. I couldn’t resist adding lemon zest because I like things sour. Use frozen blueberries if you can’t get fresh. No need to thaw them first.

2 cups (280 grams) all-purpose flour, divided
3 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup sugar, plus more for dusting
Zest of one lemon, grated or chopped fine
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 cup (1/4 liter) milk
¼ cup (4 tablespoons/60 grams) melted butter
1 cup blueberries

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter muffin tins or use paper liners. Mix 1¾ cups of flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, and lemon zest in a large bowl. Add the egg, milk, and butter, stirring only enough to dampen the flour; the batter should not be smooth. Add the remaining ¼ cup of flour on the blueberries, gently turning to coat. Carefully fold in the blueberries into the batter. Spoon into the muffin tins, filling each cup about two-thirds full. Sprinkle a pinch of sugar on top of each muffin. Bake for about 25-30 minutes, or until golden.

 

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Rhubarb Caipirinha

I’m a late bloomer. I came to appreciate cocktails only recently and now, a whole new “cooking” landscape has opened up to me. Making drinks is like cooking with liquids. Similar to colorists or alchemists, mixologists deal in essences. Where cooking food is multi-dimensional, combing texture, flavor, color, etc., mixing a drink involves contrasting pure tastes to create a new, sometimes unexpected flavor. Mixology is to cooking what painting is to sculpture.

a sweet and sour cocktail, rhubarb caipirinha

 

Basically, I’m a wine person. For one, my low tolerance for alcohol prohibits me from drinking too much. Hard liquor is too strong for me. For another, I worked in the wine business for five years, after living in France for ten, and came to love the complexity and variety of wine. French food purists know that drinking hard liquor before a meal numbs the palette, making it harder to discern delicate flavors. Wine makes food taste better.

These rules go out the window when traveling south of the Mason-Dixon line. I don’t order wine in tropical countries, choosing beer or cocktails (okay, and occasionally water). I like to drink local. Traveling to Brazil this year, I discovered Cachaça, the distilled spirit made from sugar cane. Technically, it’s similar to rum except Cachaça is made from actual cane juice (instead of molasses, for rum). It’s used in the national cocktail, the Caipirinha, which is muddled lime, sugar and Cachaça over ice. The word “caipira” translates as “hillbilly,” possibly referring to the fact that the alcohol originated in slave culture, where fermented cane juice was first consumed by sugar industry workers in the 16th-century. It was a cheap, fast high for generations of exploited people living in the hills. Colonialists tried to ban it, imposing prohibition (failed) in the 18th-century, and taxation (overthrown), until Brazil earned its independence in 1822 and the drink came to symbolize resistance to colonial rule.

Fast-forward to Brooklyn in 2012, with a big bunch of rhubarb in my fridge. Yes, I make tarts and pies and compotes with rhubarb. I crave sour things. Why not a cocktail, to prolong my nostalgia for a wonderful trip to Brazil last month?

fresh rhubarb

rhubarb syrup

Make rhubarb syrup for use in this recipe or mixed with seltzer for a delicious non-alcoholic drink. Use the leftover pulp stirred into yogurt, or spread on toast. Look out for future cocktail postings; in Vieques recently, I made mojitos using wild rosemary and ginger. That’s something a late bloomer can learn to love.

Rhubarb Caipirinha

Serves 2

4 ounces white Cachaça
Juice of 1 lime
4 ounces rhubarb syrup (recipe follows)
Ice
2 lime slices, thin rounds
Mint sprig (optional)

Combine the first four ingredients in a cocktail shaker and shake vigorously. Pour into old-fashioned glasses filled with ice. Garnish with a slice of lime and sprig of mint.

 

Rhubarb Syrup

Makes about 1 cup

1 1/2 pounds rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 1/2″ pieces
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water

In a medium saucepan, heat all the ingredients to the boiling point. Turn down the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook until the rhubarb falls apart, about 10 minutes. Strain over a bowl, pushing as much liquid as possible through the sieve. Keep strained rhubarb syrup in the refrigerator, covered, for up to one week. Or freeze to keep longer.

 

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Fava Bean, Mint & Pecorino Bruschetta

A quick and tasty spring lunch with all the essentials: seasonal vegetable, bright flavor, protein and starch. Fava beans are fiddly to prepare but so worth it. Like hidden treasure. High in iron, protein and fiber. Low in calories. An elegant workhorse popular the world over in peasant diets.

The flavor is sweeter, nuttier and meatier than lowly lima beans. The texture is firmer and more distinct. Scattered on a spring stew or salad, favas add vivid green color and an appealing shape.

Favas are also called broad beans. Buy a few pounds of unblemished whole beans to yield a little over one cup of shelled beans. Unlike green beans, they are soft to the touch. Shuck the lot of them, opening the squishy, floppy long pods to release the beans inside. Then parboil the beans in salty water for 3 minutes. Put on a good radio program or music and settle in to remove the tender inner beans from the casings. That’s the time-consuming part. What’s left is a mound of pretty green favas ready to be made into a puréed dip or served on garlic-rubbed toast as I did today. You can freeze the shelled beans for later use.

the fava bean in all its glory

Fava Bean, Mint and Pecorino Bruschetta

Lunch for one – or an appetizer for two

1/2 cup shelled, parboiled fava beans
Large pinch of fresh mint, large leaves torn into pieces
2 tablespoons excellent quality olive oil
Squeeze of lemon juice
Salt and fresh pepper
One slice of good bread, toasted
Small clove of garlic
A few shavings of Pecorino (or Parmesan) cheese, sliced with a vegetable peeler

Stir together favas, mint, olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Rub garlic clove on just-toasted bread, to flavor it. Cut bread into halves or quarters (smaller pieces are better if serving as an appetizer). Spoon fava mixture onto bread and top with cheese shavings. Transported to Italy!

 

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