On 8-legged neighbors: a digression

The Pacific northwest is a pretty spidery place. We don't really have a mosquito problem, or a lot of other "buggy" issues that seem to plague the rest of the country (at least here in the city, anyway), so we're lucky there. But we have got SPIDERS. Lots of 'em. Which I guess probably is related. But I digress. Around this time every year, these spiders are suddenly ginormous. Like, ridiculous big momma spiders. Prior to living out here, I had a firm conviction that the biggest spiders could be found in Harrisburg - my office was on the 10th floor, and even up there they'd have these whoppers (on the outside of the windows, thankfully). There were urban myths that these spiders were some sort of mutant, a descendant of the spider victims of the Three Mile Island disaster, as TMI isn't that far from Harrisburg. Whether this was true, I don't know, but my first season in Portland trumped all those spiders. I've mostly gotten used to it now, but every so often we have these whoppers a little too close for comfort. This morning, I went out to water my plants (we've had something like .02 inches of rain over the past 53 days or so), and stopped dead in the doorway - the spiders, the big hosses, are here - and they're setting up shop in my bamboo, which a) needs watering and b) is awfully close to my door. This is bad on so many levels. One of them is hanging out on a web that spans both, so it's just chilling in midair and you can't see the web if you don't look carefully. CREEPY. 

This one is currently MIA - the web is still there, though. This was yesterday, from the other side of the plant. [UPDATE: it's back - it wasn't there when I was out watering, but has since returned.] It's worth noting that these are not your little bamboo branch - they're a good 6' high with a decently wide span. Hard to dodge and very thirsty. 

I consider myself pretty comfortable with the outdoors and the life therein...but spiders, man...I saw Arachnophobia at an inappropriately young and impressionable age, and I think I'm still scarred. 

On grandparents and cookies

I've been thinking about my grandparents a lot lately, as I've passed a few anniversaries in the past couple of weeks. August 29 would have been my paternal grandmother's 100th (!) birthday - more about her in a moment - and September 3rd was the anniversary of my maternal grandfather's passing, in 2001. I'll always remember that year, mostly because I lost count of how many people said on the 11th of that month "at least he didn't have to see this." I agree on the one hand...but then again, I'm of the belief that people never really leave us. But, whatever works, I suppose. Anyway, entirely too serious for this blog. Point is: I've been thinking about them, as well as my maternal grandmother, who was my last remaining grandparent, and passed earlier this year.

Of those three, I have fairly stereotypical food-related memories of them. Of my grandfather, I have zero memories of cooking occurring - and assume he never did, outside of frozen meals on various occasions. He was of that generation - no surprise. His wife, my grandmother, also factors into my cooking memories in a limited way: frozen fish sticks, Campbell's Chicken Noodle...which I loved at the age she was making them for me, so not a problem there. But as far as I can remember, her cooking was like what I see by the wives on Mad Men: frozen, canned, etc - the modern miracle of prepared/convenience food, allowing her to get out and about during the day. One huge exception was her pizzelle cookies: amazing, thin, delicately crispy. How she mastered those tricky things while strenuously avoiding other kitchen activity, I don't really understand. At this point, one wonders where my mother learned her cooking skills, which I've referenced here before. Two sources: Mrs. Bacceliere, who lived next door to my mother's family and - despite not being Italian herself - had mastered Italian comfort food like nobody's business; and my father's mother. Two crucial things were passed down by way of these women: my mother's unbeatable red sauce recipe from Mrs. Bacceliere, which I feel I have mastered and don't know if I can bring myself to share here; and - related - the orange dutch oven you see in so many of my pictures: it was a wedding (?) gift from my grandmother to my parents, and was passed to me after many years of use. I think this makes it well loved, and am unconcerned with the small places where enamel has given way to cast iron.

Anyway, my paternal grandmother. Aside from the many culinary bits she taught my mother (and I wouldn't even know where to start with the list), she also was known far and wide (not really exaggerating there) for her Toll House Cookies. These are no ordinary chocolate chip cookie, you understand. Yes, there's a recipe on the back of the Toll House chocolate chip bag - but Grandmom tweaked it, and then put her own spin on it, and had it down to a science. These tweaks and spins were such that after she passed in the early 1990's, various family members - myself included - spent years - YEARS - trying to match her cookies. Some have mastered it...I never did.

The thing with these cookies, see, is that it's such a simple and short-cooking recipe that little things will completely throw it off. For example, every time I move I have to learn the recipe all over again, as the variations between ovens & climates are enough to render the previous settings useless. That said: I hesitate to say this and throw it off entirely, but I think I've figured it out here in my Seattle apartment with its electric range. I tried last week, on Grandmom's birthday, and made a total mess of them. But I tweaked, and tried again tonight...and it seems to have worked out! There are some who would say not to share a family recipe like this, but the thing is that my version, which was second hand via my aunt to begin with, has now been adjusted again. You will have to retweak it for your oven and will probably adjust other things as you don't have a set taste stuck in your memory like I do.



Important Note: these are different from chocolate chip cookies. They aren't fluffy and floury, and they're a little salty, a little thin, a little chewy. That's how they're supposed to be. That's also why they're tricky.

Grandmom's Toll House Cookies, version 2.4.5.745

Ingredients

• 2 cups + 3 tbsp sifted flour (*note from your blogger: original recipe had 4 tbsp, I changed it to 2, then upped it again.*)
• ~3/4 tsp salt (*note from your blogger: I lowered it from a full tsp with this batch, after EPB noted - accurately - that they were pretty salty. Better now.*)
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 2 sticks margarine (*note from your blogger: this is surprisingly hard to find around here - do your best. Also, I did not use an unsalted version, which may have contributed to the saltiness.*)
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 1/2 cups dark brown sugar, packed down (*note from your blogger: this is why the saltiness works!*)
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 12 oz package Hershey's chocolate chips (*note from your blogger: I know they're called Toll House, but there you go*)

Cream margarine, add white sugar and cream well. (*Note from your blogger: you're going to want to use cold margarine...I'm so used to a room temperature requirement that I did that the first time. It was a mistake.*)
Sift together flour, salt, and baking soda.
Add the dry mixture to the butter/sugar mixture.
Add eggs & beat well.
Add brown sugar. Mix well.
Add vanilla extract; incorporate.
Add chocolate chips and mix. (*note from your blogger: I find that this is way too many chips, so this time reduced it to probably 80% of the package. The cookies spread thin, so the chocolate can be overwhelming.*)

Drop by teaspoonful onto greased cookie sheet (*note from your blogger: greasing failed for me the first time so I switched to parchment...much better.*), do not crowd. They will spread quite a bit and may still bump into each other, but a little of that is okay. Bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes. (*note from your blogger: unless you're in my current apartment, in which case it's 12 minutes 30 seconds. Or my apartment in Harrisburg, where it was 9 minutes. Do a test batch and you'll get there - accept that you'll mangle some of them. It's fine.*)

Recipe Notes: Do not overbake in oven, as they will continue to cook for a few minutes on the cookie sheet before transferring to a cooking rack. Leave them for about 3 minutes before doing so. This recipe can be doubled, and is quite tasty without chips - because not everyone likes chocolate (*note from your blogger: specifically my father and at least one uncle!*)

Good luck, and remember: they're supposed to be thin and chewy...all that brown sugar gives them a molasses-y effect.

This morning's harvest

My golden tomato plant is rocking this summer - these are only the ones that were at their darkest! There are plenty still ripening. The two plants are staggered nicely - I think this one will be winding down when the red ones are about ready. (And yes, more sage...that plant is out of control)

I'm bringing appetizers to a dinner party tonight - so my plan is to make mini-caprese skewers, using these and some yet-to-be-clipped basil. The basil was looking a little wilty this morning, though, so we'll see if it's perked back up. Yum!

I will never go frozen again

Y'all, I had a revelation and a gardening success tonight, all at the same time.

So, I've been growing garden peas this year. I've grown sugar snaps before, but not for years and never a basic garden pea. I had visions of fancy pea puree and whatnot, but I probably won't have a big enough crop for that, so I decided to pick some tonight and just cook them with dinner. (Dinner, by the way, contained three things and two of them came from my patio garden. I'm a little proud. Imagine if I had more than just a patio!) Anyway. This whole time I've been wondering why I've never actually seen fresh peas in the produce section - sugar snaps, snow peas, but not garden peas, except for bags of frozen peas. I can now say that it take a lot of pea pods to produce a dish...and the shelling is a process. Although it was my first time doing this, so I guess I probably don't know the most efficient way to do it. I'll say this, though: it was WORTH it.

I picked probably 2 dozen pods and shelled them, leaving me with about half a cup of peas. These peas, for the record, bore NO resemblance to the frozen peas I've always eaten. I generally support frozen vegetables - healthier than canned, and they fill the gap between fresh seasons. But this was a totally different vegetable! I've told you about my weird allergies before, and they meant I couldn't snack on them raw, but I wanted to get as close as I could, so I blanched them. I brought a small sauce pan of water to boiling, tossed them in with some sea salt, and 30 seconds later drained them and dished them with a tiny bit of butter. They were SO GOOD. They still had a pop, a crunch, like fresh peas, and a juiciness to them. I hope the plant produces many more...maybe I'll even stop long enough to get pictures of the next round!

Baking the Opposite of What I Preach

  
It is time for true confessions. 

Today, I did something totally opposite of what I usually blog about. Nothing about it was local. Nothing was seasonal (unless you REALLY stretch seasonal). Nothing about it was organic, or even remotely healthy. But sometimes, it's just really important to have Funfetti.

Yes, you read that correctly. See, I was in Target the other day (source of all things good and dangerous...and just wait till they start making their own brand of liquor...and you know they will...Archer Farms Gin, anyone?), looking for random red white and blue picnic stuff for my fireworks picnic with EPB tonight, and spotted a box of "Stars and Stripes Funfetti". I could not help myself. While I believe strongly in baked goods from scratch - and in fact have a darn good cupcake recipe that I've made before - I feel like Funfetti supersedes all rules.

A little history. When I go home to New Orleans, I usually stay with my friend Jen. (Yes, I know you all think I'm from Philly/Jersey. I am...I just have other homes too.) Anyway, Jen. She gets an excuse to clean up her guest room (to her husband I say "you're welcome"), and I get time with my friend and her family, plus fun drinks and home-cooked food. This also includes, not infrequently, Funfetti cupcakes.

Meanwhile, I grew up in a house of where convenience foods dared not tread - my mother made, among other things, all my birthday cakes from scratch - whether this was for health or economic reasons, I don't know, but probably both. Other things that came from scratch: pâtés, yogurt (easily 20 years before that was even remotely hip...she's always been ahead of the curve), the world's best red sauce (a recipe I've acquired but can't bring myself to share here...at least not yet), and waffles that needed no condiments whatsoever. It wasn't till many years later (I guess college?) that I baked from a box. While my mother is still my bar for a superior baked good, there is something lovely about the boxed mix - and it still holds some novelty for me. So: imagine my excitement when one day during the my last stint living in New Orleans, I went over to Jen's after work - and there were Funfetti cupcakes! This was my first encounter with the fascinating combination of cake mix and sprinkles, and I was hooked. I think she also sent me back to Chicago with a box for the road trip...that was a big Funfetti summer.

Anyway, when I saw that box in Target - I knew it had to happen. So, thanks for the introduction, Jen, and happy Independence Day, everyone!

Growth! (Too much, even)

In my last post, I mentioned basil from my garden. One would think that suggested I've had success in this realm...one would be wrong. My basil seed had one tiny tiny sprout...and then it died. This is a common problem here in the Northwest - it's just not hot and sunny for long enough, and the basil can't tough it out like the rest of us. But to me, summer is caprese salad. My local farmers market has tomatoes early on, since it's a relatively short drive across the Cascade Mountains to the warm and dry climate, so I feel like I should make caprese...and last weekend I ran out of patience. Trader Joe's, which just opened down the street, had $3 basil, so I figured it was worth it. Well, I got down there and it wasn't bundles, like I assumed, but full-on plants!

 I clipped what I needed and plopped the remaining plant (or five, actually - quite a deal, this) right into the dirt that had once held a tiny spring of short-lived basil, and have had multiple caprese salads since, with these fun black zebra tomatoes from the market (and those other pretty orange ones...I forget what they are, though). So, I kind of (totally) cheated, but the end result is good, no?

In related news, my own tomato plants have had a growth spurt, including the one I planted from seed - I think it has almost caught up to the start I bought, which is very exciting.

Even better, the mint and rosemary - while not quite thriving - have recovered from their various ailments, (I don't think I talked about the mint here, but it had this weird white foam on it for a while which seems to have been harmless) and my peas are happily popping along in what the rest of the country calls "cool spring-like weather". 

The spinach does well in this climate, too - I've only got one little pot of it, but have gotten multiple salads and omelettes out of it. I just cut it back again - it's growing so fast that some of it was on the verge of bolting. 


I'm still having some challenges, though. For one thing, my thyme might be the slowest growing thing ever. I have approximately one recipe's worth, fully two months after I planted it. And those tomatoes have some sort of odd underleaf drooping happening. Google seems to suggest this is normal, but previous plants haven't done this, that I recall. On the upside, the only droopy branches are the ones that are leaves only, not blossoms or beginnings of tomatoes. I'm trying to make myself prune them...my first tomato attempt, on my deck back in Portland, went totally unpruned because I had no clue what I was doing. This led to a 6 foot cherry tomato plant. Literally. Needless to say, it wasn't the sturdiest thing in the world. 


So here's my challenge, and I need ideas. My sage plant has gone CRAZY. It kind of muddled along last summer, and just barely survived the winter...and suddenly it's huge, and when I wasn't looking it started producing gigantic leaves. I've trimmed it and frozen some, since all the recipes I typically use sage for are autumnal (roast poultry, roast pork)...and I have plenty of it dried already. What do I do with the rest?? Would love suggestions...

Something's Fishy 101

Summertime culinary adventures are a challenge. On the one hand there’s so much freshness – salmon and halibut are coming in fresh, vegetables and fruit are colorful and inviting at the market – but on the other hand, it’s hot, and cooking sounds only marginally appealing.

Here in Seattle, however, summer doesn’t arrive till early July, so it’s still cool enough to play around. The catch is that we have these weirdly long days that I didn’t know about before moving here. It’s bright by 4:30am, and not actually dark till 10. As a result, the light level doesn’t trigger my brain to think “mealtime” till a good 8pm (at the earliest), by which time I do not want to spend more than 15 minutes prepping anything. The resulting meals have been the following basic combo: pan-cooked fish of some sort + salad of some sort. If I’m feeling ambitious, and/or have something that’s about to go bad, and/or do NOT lose track of time, I may also steam some green thing of some sort – green beans, asparagus – either way it’s a three minute process. Take the other night’s meal: pan seared halibut + caprese salad. The caprese actually included basil from the back patio…which isn’t the success it sounds like. More about that in another post.

Anyway: I assumed pan-cooking fish was too basic for blogging, but I’ve had a decent number of people ask how to cook various types of fish lately, so maybe not. No judgment here – I still haven’t mastered a basic steak. Embarrassing but true. Anyway, I’ve been mostly doing salmon and halibut lately, and while they're essentially the same recipe I'll cover the salmon here - halibut is a little pricey this season.

Pan-grilled Salmon (not adapted from anyone!)

Ingredients

• Filet of salmon, skin-on, at least an inch thick (I roughly plan for about 1/3 lb, or a little more, per person)
• Olive oil (this is for coating the salmon, so about a tablespoon for every two servings. Also, if your kitchen doesn’t have great ventilation you might want to use grapeseed oil, as it has a slightly higher smoke point. You shouldn’t get a ton of flavor difference with the quantity you’re using, and if you’re paranoid about your smoke alarm – like I am – this gives you a little more space.)
• Fine sea salt, or kosher salt – just not coarse. You want it to cook in.
• Fresh cracked pepper

Get a decent salmon filet – the highest quality you can find and afford, and none of this Atlantic farmed business. Wild Pacific only (certain wild Scottish versions are acceptable, but it's still a different flavor). Ideally it won’t have been previously frozen, but if that’s what you’ve got it’s fine.

[*Note from your blogger: If you happen upon the gloriousness of Yukon King salmon, do NOT use this recipe. You want to have the least possible input on the flavor – it’s that good – and your best bet is to either go out to your grill or find a friend who will share their grill (they’ll be happy to do so forever after once they taste this), get some cedar planks, and plank that baby. It will be the most delicious thing ever, and unbelievably rich while still crazy healthy. Many recipes out there advise rubbing it down with crazy things like brown sugar, mustard, and – of all things – salad dressing. Ick. This may be useful for Atlantic salmon, which doesn’t have a dramatic a flavor so you’re not ruining anything, but for the love of Pete please don’t do this to anything from the Pacific. A little oil to keep it from sticking, some simple salt and pepper, and let the natural flavor shine through.*]

Now back to the recipe I’m ACTUALLY talking about…which is actually pretty similar. The key here is a grill pan – I have a heavy duty (but not cast iron one) and this recipe is based on that. The grill pan is key here, as it lets most of the oil fall away and gives it those great grill lines – and really, aesthetics are half the fun.

How you prepare the salmon for the pan is your personal discretion. If you cut the large piece into portions first, it’s much easier to deal with at the end, but I find that cooking it whole keeps it more moist. I do often mangle it at the end, though (see above picture), so your call.

Heat the pan over medium heat. You can adjust this depending on your range – most recipes say medium-high, but I’ve found that medium works better for me – more even cooking – plus I think my range isn’t calibrated 100% accurately.

While pan heats up, spoon the oil over both sides of the fish, making sure it’s evenly covered but not totally drenched. We’re not deep-frying here, people. Give each side a very generous coating of salt and pepper – you’ll get a great semi-crust later.

Once your pan is hot enough, place the salmon on the  grill ridges, skin side up. Be ready for the oil to sizzle and splatter a little bit. Leave it be and do not fuss with it, for roughly 3-4 minutes, but do keep an eye on the sides to make sure the color is changing. Once it looks to be cooked about halfway through, flip it gently and cook it for another 3-4 minutes (it will seem like it's cooking faster, but be patient). At this point it’s a combination of judgment call/thickness of fish. I like mine a little rare in the center, so I stop here. If that makes you nervous, you can leave it for another minute – but keep an eye on it! You don’t want to overcook it and lose the flavor.

And…that’s it. Oil, salt and pepper, pan. Add a big simple salad of some sort, and you’ve got dinner.

[*Note from your blogger: If you aren't a salmon fan: when I make halibut (or redfish if I'm in NOLA), I use essentially the same recipe, except I use a normal skillet and not the grill pan. My opinion, not universally shared, is that even the thick white-flesh fish isn't firm enough to sit happily on the grill pan's ridges. So: normal skillet, about 1-3 tablespoons of oil (depending on the size of your fillet), with the oil heated in the pan instead of on the fish. You're looking to sear it here, and this will give you a nice golden crust. Cook it for roughly 4-5 minutes per side, following the same protocol as salmon (don't fuss with it, prepare for splatter).  These cooking times are all based on the thickness of the fish and the calibration of the stove, so unlike the professionals I can't give you an exact calculation - but that's a good thing, as the best way to get the hang of this is trial and error.*]

Let me know how yours turns out! If you're already past this stage of beginner fish, what twists do you add in? Interesting sauces? Something else in the oil/salt/pepper mix?

A sunless tease

Dear Seattle:

The past three (four?) weekends of sun and warmth were marvelous. Really great. Out of character, making them that much more enjoyable. I was inspired! I puttered in the garden (aka, on my patio). I PLANTED THINGS. Things that, according to my middle school biology teacher, need sunshine to grow. Since that time, you have given me zero (0) hours of sunshine. I know that you're just trying to be you. Really, I get it. But couldn't you even things out a tiny bit? Please? I'm going to be unable to tend to my plants for the second half of May so it would be swell if everything could be settled in and growing, or at least stable, by then. Thanks.

Readers, I am frustrated. I'm having a few more challenges this year than previous years. It's only the very beginning of the season, so there's plenty of time for things to be corrected, but there have definitely been some bumps. My lavender and mint continue to plug along happily, but everything else...less happy. My rosemary, for one, is struggling. I've never had a rosemary problem before - it's always been so sturdy - but I think this past winter has left serious aftereffects. While the plant has hung in there and is still alive, it is definitely newly scrawny, and is still dropping needles (albeit at a slower rate). I've aerated, repotted, drained, added fresh soil. Who out there is knowledgeable on rosemary? It's one thing to lose a pretty flower plant. But the rosemary - that's functional. I cook with it often, and just pop outside to snip a few branches. I actually make good use of this plant!

Here's how it looks today:

Meanwhile, I'm attempting salad ingredients again. Last year I planted a mesclun mix - didn't employ a lot of order, just scattered seeds. So far, no big deal. However...I then proceeded to not thin it, ever. I couldn't bring myself to pluck things when I didn't know which would be the better grower, so I left everything...and killed everything. Well, maybe I didn't KILL it - but I did grow albino salad, as the density of the leaves blocked their own sun. It was sort of remarkable, and not very edible. This year, I will be cold and harsh and pluck at will. I'm also growing simple baby spinach instead of a mix, and I planted in a more orderly manner, and I'm hoping both of these will lead to a better result. Anyway, the whole point of that ramble is to share that a mere week after seeding, there are a few tiny green shoots popping out of the spinach pot! Very exciting. (You've got to look really hard, but trust me - they're there.)

Finally, my tomatoes. I ordered a packet of cherry tomato seeds from Burpee, and followed the directions, planting what should have provided me with seven plants, and planning on using the two sturdiest. Of those seven, I got one. One! Ridiculous, and not impressive. Today I gave in and bought a start from my farmers' market. After I potted them both, I realized just how sad and puny my homegrown start was. Maybe this will work out and just lead to a staggered harvest...(can you guess which is which?...and don't be fooled by the apparent brightness in this photo. It was overcast, just brightish overcast.)

Fingers crossed, people. Fingers crossed.

Oh yeah, I'm planting things too

When I started this blog, I promised it would be for cooking and for gardening, and thus far (thanks to Seattle's weather) it's been all food, all the time. No more! We just had this bizarre stretch of nice weather (which is now MIA, but there's rumors it will return), and I promptly headed out to my patio, cleaning up the winter's mess and getting things going for the spring/summer. About a month ago, I started a few seeds in those little cups that break down in the larger pots - no replanting required - and am now, with a few exceptions, gradually moving them outside. I am 100% a container gardener - I have a patio of a decent size, and that's the end of it. Which is perfectly fine by me - no weeding! A few years back I tried to garden in a patch at the back of my parents' yard, and it was a disaster. Granted, it was the summer of May and June deluges, so the shallots and garlic drowned and rotted and things that lived were stunted at best, but on top of that I felt like there was a daily losing battle with the weeds. And this was when I was unemployed, so had plenty of time to be out there weeding every day - and I still couldn't keep up. So, containers are how I roll now.

It's still early in the season, so the only thing that's actually "grown" so far is my lavender. Lavender grows like crazy out here - I accidentally created a wild lavender offshoot in one of the apartment complex-maintained planters when nature sent some seeds/pollen floating over from my pot. My plant had gone dormant over the summer, and having never grown it before I wasn't sure what to expect. It lives in this cool ceramic pot that I like, but which doesn't slope out enough at the top for easy repotting. So, I left it be...then two weeks ago, looked out my window to see the thing had just about doubled in size!

                             

So, a good start out here, as with the mint plant that also refuses to die. Other struggling holdovers include rosemary and sage, both of which got a little more rain than I think they would have liked. But they're hanging in there, and I'm hopeful. Bring on the sunshine!

Gotta Have a...Bundt?

Recently, I had one of those "I want to use that pan" moments. Maybe you aren't a person who has acquired a bizarre number of specialized kitchen items, and you don't have these moments. I do. The pan in question was a kinda-vintage butter yellow enameled Bundt pan, acquired either at a yard sale or at the free table in my old apartment building in Hyde Park. Either way, not exactly an investment - but I've had it for a while and had never used it. I also was getting some grief for not baking anything for the office recently, and on top of that - there were little hints of spring here in Seattle. Nothing really dramatic, but enough to trigger my craving for things involving either berries or lemon or both. (This recipe technically uses berry preserves, but I bet if berries were actually in season they might be juicy enough to be smushed up and used on their own.) I had been meaning to look for something...and then one morning in my inbox, via the Food&Wine Daily, there it was: Blueberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake!

Blueberry-Sour Cream Coffee Cake (adapted from Food & Wine Online) [*note from your blogger: this link is a little fluky lately, but I'll give it a try*]

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 sticks (1/2 lb) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
1 cup sour cream
1 Tbsp pure vanilla extract
3/4 cup blueberry preserves, plus 1 Tbsp melted preserves
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350°. Butter and flour a 10-inch Bundt pan. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, beat the butter until creamy. Add the granulated sugar and beat until fluffy. Beat in the eggs, sour cream and vanilla. Beat in the dry ingredients just until incorporated. [*note from your blogger: USE CAUTION if using a stand mixer. I'd gotten used to recipes formatted for stand mixers, but I don't think this was because my cake had definitely been beat a little two much....cue my father's bad pun about black-and-blue and blueberries here*]
Spread all but 1/2 cup of the batter into the prepared pan. Using the back of a spoon, make a trough in the batter, all the way around the pan. Mix the 3/4 cup of blueberry preserves with the reserved batter and spoon it into the trough. [*note from your blogger: this is tricky. Beware. Mine was a teeny bit messy. Still tasted fine though!*]
Bake the cake for about 1 hour, or until it begins to pull away from the pan and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Invert the cake onto a wire rack, remove the pan and let cool completely. Sift the confectioners' sugar over the cake, drizzle with the melted blueberry preserves and serve. [*note from your blogger: I was making this for the office and my colleagues have been leaning towards slightly healthier things of late, so I skipped the frosting. It was still tasty, and somewhat morning-snack-friendly*]

A long post, a long time coming, on a comfort food for long cold stretches [Or: Cooking with wine.]

Readers...if there are any of you left...I apologize. There's been this thing, and then another things, and...enough excuses. No more! I am getting back on this horse.

While it's way past the time of year for hearty cold weather food, I understand some of you unfortunate souls have been having nor'easter out there. So, for this I offer my story of a gloomy Sunday in Seattle, back in...I think it was late February.

I was halfway through Sunday when I had this overwhelming urge to cook many hearty things. Midday Sunday is kind of  dangerous time for this mindset, unless you're of the organized and effecient type (I'm not). I CRAVED coq au vin, and I had this urge to make some kind of lentil soup. Since I couldn't decide which to focus on, at around 3pm I started preparations to make both. This involved, among other things, an insane amount of produce choppping.  I would probably not encourage anyone else to make both of these at once, at least without the following: a) a severe amount of kitchen/clock management discipline; b) at least two dutch ovens of your brand of choice (mine is a beloved 40-year old orange Copco - it's always exciting for me when orange cycles back through as the "it" color); and c) a big kitchen with a very big range. I have very little of (a), only one of (b), and and the only way I could be considered to have (c) is if a Manhattan studio walk-up is your comparison.  It's not remarkably small, but it ain't big and my range is entirely standard. Plus, it's electric, so I can't put move something off the heat to another burner unless said other burner hasn't been used within the past 20 minutes. But I digress.

So, to work I went. EPB earned his acronym with this one - aside from waiting through the excessively long time that I holed up in the kitchen chopping, simmering, browning, and occasionally swearing, before I finally announced that dinner was ready, he also acted as sous chef and chopped a few thousand vegetables/starches.

First: the coq au vin. (Technically I started the soup first so it could simmer, but that was much less complicated and I'm SURE none of you will make my mistake of making both of these at once, anyway.) I used a recipe that was adapted from a recipe - my mother has always used Julia's (that's Julia Child, people - keep up), but I was hoping for one a little less complicated. This one was fully two pages long, but I still feel that it wasn't as challenging as one would expect.

Coq Au Vin
Adapted from The Year in Food, who adapted it from the Amateur Gourmet

4-5 pound chicken, separated by wings, thighs, legs, breasts, rinsed, patted very dry, and generously salted and peppered. (Here’s a demo on carving a chicken.)
4 slices thick-cut bacon [*note from your blogger: your kitchen will smell amazing many times during this process. I strongly encourage a snack beforehand, and probably during.*]

1 bottle dry red wine [*note from your blogger: if you happen to, say, "lose" a small cup during this process...it'll still taste just fine. :) *]
1 cup chicken stock
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 carrots, diced
2 tablespoons brandy
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon fresh thyme, minced
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, minced
1 bay leaf
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For the garnish:
1 medium yellow onion, chopped   [*note from your blogger: My mother has always used frozen pearl onions here. I think they absorb the flavor better...and as I've mentioned before, I hatehatehate chopping onions. So, I used one bag of frozen pearl onions.*]
12 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced [*note from your blogger: or just chopped...up to you.*]
2 tablespoons butter
fresh parsley
salt+pepper

1. Place the bacon in a cold Dutch oven or similar large, heavy-bottomed pot. Cook over medium heat, turning as needed, for about ten minutes. You want it to be somewhat browned but retain some of the fat. Don’t cook it to a crisp. Remove the bacon, chop roughly, and set aside.

2. Turn the heat up to medium-high. Give the pot a few minutes to heat more. Have your chicken ready to go. Make sure it’s nice and dry, as this is what you will need in order to get that lovely brown crust when you sear it.
3. Place half the chicken (one each wing, thigh, drumstick, breast) in the pot and leave it alone for about five minutes. To get that crust, you don’t want to jostle the meat at all. After about 5 minutes, flip each piece, and repeat. If it hasn’t developed a really nice brown sear, leave the meat in for a little longer.

4. Take the first batch of chicken from the pot, and repeat step 3 with second half.
5. If you have a lot of excess fat in the pot, spoon the extra out, being careful not to remove any brown bits.
6. Reduce heat to medium, and add a tablespoon of butter. Add the onion and carrot, and saute, stirring some, for about five minutes.
7. Add the tomato paste and stir. Carefully add the cognac/brandy, deglazing the pot with it. Scrape all that yummy stuff from the bottom, and saute for another few minutes to reduce the liquid.
8. Raise the heat a little again, and add the bottle of wine, garlic, thyme, parsley and bay leaf, and bring to a boil.  Simmer until liquid has reduced by half, about 15-20 minutes.
9. Add the bacon and the chicken stock and stir. Reserve 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid for your second batch of onions.
10. Return the chicken to the pot. Amateur Gourmet suggested a certain order, but I didn’t find that necessary. [*note from your blogger: neither did I.*]
11. Cover the pot, reduce the heat to very low on your stove, and simmer, undisturbed, for 45-60 minutes. You want the meat to be incredibly tender, but not quite falling off the bone. (Mine started to fall off the bone, no big deal.)
12. While your chicken is braising, prepare the garnish. Heat one tablespoon butter in a medium pan over a medium flame. Add the onions and saute for about 5 minutes.
13. Add the reserved braising liquid, season to taste with salt and pepper, and saute until most of the liquid has been reduced, about 10 minutes or so. Remove onions from heat and set aside.
14. Add another tablespoon of butter to the pan. Add the mushrooms and saute until the liquid has cooked off, another 10 minutes, roughly. Turn off heat, return onions to the pan, mix together and set aside.

15. Check on the chicken. If it’s ready, turn off heat and skim any fat if necessary. Add the mushrooms and onions to the braise, stir.
16. Ladle this luscious stuff into bowls, garnish with more parsley, and enjoy!
PS: The flavors will improve overnight. [*note from your blogger: and over the next few days. Honestly, it keeps getting better. Especially if, say, you (ahem) accidentally cooked the chicken too long and dried it out...it re-moistens!*]

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Still here? Okay then. Sometimes, you just want a hearty soup that also isn't bad for you. When the recipe makes enough for nearly a week's worth of lunches on a relatively low budget, well, that's just a win all around, unless you don't like vegetables or lentils. In which case, stop reading now.

Still here? Okay. This recipe is also pretty absurdly easy. At least compared to the coq au vin. And it's so satisfying. I looked at the recipe - one this, one that - and thought it didn't seem like enough soup for the effort, so I doubled it. Wellll....let's just say that my pot (NOT the dutch oven, since that was going to be required for the coq au vin) was very nearly overtopped. Turns out this makes more than it seems. The recipe actually said it would make something like 4 servings...I ended up with 10. Ten! However: turns out this both doubles well and freezes well...so it was fine. Full disclosure, though - when you freeze it it comes out looking less colorful and somewhat unappetizing. But it's still delicious!


Hearty Lentil Soup (adapted from AllRecipes)

Ingredients

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 bunch green onions, chopped
1 leek, sliced
1 carrot, diced
1 parsnip, scrubbed and diced
1 potato, peeled and diced
1 stalk celery, sliced
1 cup dry lentils, rinsed
1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes
3 cups vegetable stock
2 bay leaves
1 dash soy sauce
2 teaspoons vegetarian Worcestershire sauce [*note from your blogger: not only do I not have vegetarian Worcestershire (huh?), I also completely forgot the Worcestershire of any variety. I think I last minute compensated with extra soy sauce...not sure. Point is, feel free to experiment - this is a very forgiving soup.*]
1/2 cup red wine
1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped [*note from your blogger: I'm one of those people who hates cilantro...so I skipped it. Didn't seem to me like the soup was missing anything, so your call.*]

Directions
Heat the oil in a large saucepan and mix in the onions, carrot, parsnip, celery, potato, and leek. Stir over a medium heat.
Place lentils, tomatoes, stock, bay leaves, a splash of the soy and Worcestershire sauces and wine in the saucepan. Stir and bring the mixture to a boil. Cover and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the lentils are cooked.
Remove the bay leaves from the soup. Stir in the cilantro and serve.

Two months? Say it ain't so.

Friends, readers, confused people who ended up here by Googling a power company in Chattanooga. I’ve been neglectful, and I’m sorry. I’ve been “meaning to update” and life, well, it got in the way. Christmas was wonderful but devoid of kitchen time (which makes sense: I was in my mother’s home, after all, and you don’t mess with another woman’s kitchen no matter how much they profess to want you to bake). January…well, it was a month best forgotten.

So! Now we are halfway through February, and so far this month is performing in a satisfactory manner. I’ve got an embarrassing amount of backlog to share – rack of pork, eggplant parmesan, coq au vin, lentil soup – but for today, we’ll go with the Valentine’s recap. My meal last night, courtesy of EPB, isn’t really correct fodder for this particular blog – partially because I had nothing to do with the preparation, but also because the bulk of it was either raw (oysters – EPB learned how to shuck them himself! – and ikura), or else prepared by others (huge steamed Dungeness crabs from Taylor Shellfish, also the source of the oysters - if you watch Bizarre Foods on Travel Channel you may have seen their sourcing farm featured). On a related note, these all go surprisingly well with a dry sparkling rosé.

The part where I did play a hand, though: the dessert, where I made the easiest chocolate fondue in the world. Seriously.

Like many of my easy-and-impressive finds, this came from Real Simple…and really lived up to the magazine’s name (not everything does, people. For serious).


Chocolate Bar Fondue
courtesy of Real Simple
Serves 8 // Hands-on Time: 20m // Total Time: 20m

Ingredients

· 3/4 cup heavy cream
· 1 pound milk or dark chocolate, broken into pieces (*note from your blogger: I reduced the recipe since there were only two of us, but the ratio was 4:1 dark:milk chocolate. Delicious.*)
· 1 pint fresh strawberries
· 1 store-bought angel food cake, cut into 1-inch pieces
· 8 ounces dried fruit, such as pineapple slices and figs (*note from your blogger: I used fresh pineapple…simply because the store had it in cut tubs. Use whatever you want that is handy and simple.*)

Directions

1. In a small saucepan, over low heat, warm the cream and chocolate. Stir until the chocolate melts. (*Note from your blogger: Be patient – it will seem too cool to possibly work at first, but then suddenly it will all start to go at once – keep stirring!*) Transfer the fondue to a serving bowl. (*Note from your blogger: I transferred to an actual fondue pot…which led to complications, as I couldn’t get the sterno to stay at a low enough temperature to keep the fondue from boiling without the flame going out. There were a few rounds of relighting…but in the end it worked out fine.)

2. Serve immediately with forks or the like for dipping strawberries, angel food cake, and dried fruit.

It was crazy good and alarmingly easy. Alarming, you say? Indeed. It took next to no time to make, and involved two (inexpensive) ingredients. Plus: if I used entirely dark chocolate and fresh fruit I could easily delude myself into it being a healthy treat. This is not a good thing. So, chefs: consider yourselves warned, and enjoy!