from Southern Biscuits, pp. 56-57.

IMG_1098When Nathalie Dupree and Cynathia Graubart come to town, suddenly good food pops up everywhere. My friend and neighbor, Elaine Corn, a NPR food reporter, threw a book launch party for Dupree and Graubart’s magisterial new volume, Mastering the Art of Southern Cooking, across the street from me. The hostess was Allison Coudert, who put the ladies in her two spare bedrooms, hired Roxanne O’Brien and her students to cater, stocked the house with wine and champagne, and opened the doors to nearly fifty food lovers here in Sacramento. Lots of restaurant folk turned out. As usual, Roxanne’s food nearly stole the show. A book launch party from 4 to 7 pm turned into a lively, flat-out party until midnight. No one wanted to leave. Nathalie and Cynthia were gracious, good sports, who must have been far more tired than they looked. Their energy did not flag.

Next day, after the ladies flew off to another city on their book tour, I started to think about biscuits. I wondered if I had ever had a light biscuit. I couldn’t be sure. I’ve choked on so many. So, I plopped on the couch and read Southern Biscuits. The tricks, I learned, involve using self-rising flour (light, low-protein), a wooden bowl wider than it was deep, flavorful fat, and a willingness to get my hands sticky, messy, and busy. The results were worth it. Now I now what a light biscuit tastes like. And I also learned that biscuits should be as easy and fast as no-knead bread. You should be able to throw biscuits together in a snap. However, this is a deep book. Lots to work on. The variety of biscuit recipes and uses is astonishing. But this is a well-written recipe. What I experienced fell right in line with their directions.

So, here we go. Let’s make a batch of biscuits…

2 1/4 cups commercial or homemade self-rising flour, divided

Shadowcook: King Arthur makes an organic self-rising flour that has less protein (the key to lightness) than the White Lily brand most commonly used in the south.

1/4 cup chilled shortening, lard, and/or butter, roughly cut into 1/4 inch pieces

AND

1/4 cup chilled shortening, lard, and/or butter, roughly cut into 1/2 inch pieces

Shadowcook: I used 1/4 cup of lard and a 1/4 cup of butter. The fat ratio is one feature of this recipe that demands experimentation.

1 cup milk or buttermilk, divided

Butter, softened or melted, for finishing

Preheat oven to 425.

Select the baking pan by determining if a soft or crisp exterior is desired. For a soft exterior, use an 8- or 9-inch cake pan, pizza pan, or ovenproof skillet where the biscuits will nestle together snugly, creating the soft exterior while baking. for a crisp exterior, select a baking sheet or other baking pan where the biscuits can be placed wider apart, allowing air to circulate and creating a crisper exterior, and brush the pan with butter.

Fork sift or whisk 2 cups of flour in a large bowl, preferably wider than it is deep, and set aside the remaining 1/4 cup. Scatter the 1/4-inch-size pieces of chilled fat over the flour and work in by rubbing fingers with the fat and flour as if snapping thumb and fingers together (or use two forks or knives, or a pastry cutter) until the mixture looks like well-crumbled feta cheese.

Shadowcook: Oh, go on. Get your hands doughy. You know you want to. Work quickly, so just stick your hands in there.

Scatter the 1/2-inch-size pieces of chilled fat over the flour mixture and continue snapping thumb and fingers together until no pieces remain larger than a pea. Shake the bowl occasionally to allow the larger pieces of fat to bounce to the top of the flour, revealing the largest lumps that still need rubbing. If this method took longer than 5 minutes [Shadowcook: and it will...], place the bowl in the refrigerator for 5 minutes to rechill the fat.

Make a deep hollow in the center of the flour with the back of your hand. Pour 3/4 cup of the milk into the hollow, reserving 1/4 cup milk, and stir with a rubber spatula or large metal spoon, using broad circular strokes to quickly pull the flour into the milk. Mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened and the sticky dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl. If there is some flour remaining on the bottom and sides of the bowl, stir in 1 to 4 tablespoons of reserved milk, just enough to incorporate the remaining flour into the shaggy wettish dough. If the dough is too wet, use more flour when shaping.

Shadowcook: At this point, I noticed that the dough looked very shaggy, pretty wet, and rather on the unincorporated side. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and wrap up the gathering process quickly. Glad I trusted them.

Lightly sprinkle a board or other clean surface using some of the reserved flour. turn the dough out onto the board and sprinkle the top lightly with flour. With floured hands, fold the dough in half, and pat dough out into a 1/3- to 1/2-inch thick round, using a little additional flour only if needed. Flour again if necessary, and fold the dough in half a second time. If the dough is still clumpy, pat and fold a third time. Pat dough out into a 1/2-inch thick round for a normal biscuit, 3/4-inch thick for a tall biscuit, and 1-inch thick for a giant biscuit. Brush off any visible flour from the top. for each biscuit, dip a 2 1/2-inch biscuit cutter into the reserved flour and cut out the biscuits, starting at the outside edge and cutting very close together, being careful not to twist the cutter.

Shadowcook: I used a 1 3/4-inch round cutter and cut out nearly 24 biscuits.

The scraps may be combined to make additional biscuits, although these scraps make tougher biscuits. [Shadowcook: not that I noticed!]

Using a metal spatula if necessary, move the biscuits to the pan or baking sheet. Bake the biscuits on the top rack of the oven for a total of 10 to 14 minutes until light golden brown.

Shadowcook: My oven required a total of 16 mins. You have to know your oven. Watch the biscuits carefully the first time.

After 6 minutes, rotate the pan in the oven so that the front of the pan is now turned to the back, and check to see if the bottoms are browning too quickly. If so, slide another baking pan underneath the add insulation and retard browning. Continue baking another 4 to 8 minutes until the biscuits are light golden brown. When the biscuits are done, remove from the oevn and lightly brush the tops with butter. Turn the biscuits out upside down on a plate to cool slightly. Serve hot, right side up.

IMG_1099I decided to use my first batch of biscuits as the base of a savory hors d’oeuvres. I bought really really good fig jam and a chunk of blue d’Avergne, split the biscuits open, and slathered on the jam and cheese. When I get to the party, I intend to ask Roxanne what I could have added to give it a little cool crunch. Candied pecan? Something green? Got any ideas?


The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 46,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 11 Film Festivals

Click here to see the complete report.


 

 

 

 

 

from Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, Jerusalem, p. 109.

I dreaded looking at the date of my last post. July, 2012. And now I see that the last recipe I posted was also a one by Ottolenghi. I suppose he’s been a lot on my mind.

I have to confess that I went a while without cooking much. Now that the weather has cooled and I’m often writing at my table, it’s nice to have a task to turn away to when I need perspective. Happily, Ottolenghi’s terrific new cookbook has given me lots of opportunities to step away.

Of the three cookbooks he has produced this one is the best, in my opinion. From the standpoint of shelf appeal, it has far more recipes that look interesting than ones that don’t. And now that I’ve tried eight of them, I can vouch for more of them than I could in his other books. Some of the recipes in his previous books erupted like brain farts. But when they worked, they were the creative outbursts of a genius mind. This time, Ottolenghi got his cookbook mojo together.

To give you an idea of how appealing the book is, here are the recipes I’ve made — then I’ll describe making the risotto.

  • Roasted butternut squash & red onion with tahini & za’atar
  • Roasted cauliflower & hazelnut salad [with celery and pomegranate seeds, flavored with cinnamon and allspice]
  • Shakshuka [a tomato-red pepper sauce with the flavors of cumin and an egg poached in it at the last minute]
  • Swiss chard with tahini, yogurt & buttered pine nuts
  • Wheat berries & swiss chard with pomegranate molasses
  • Chicken with caramelized onion & cardamom rice
  • Lamb meatballs with barberries, shallots, yogurt & herbs
  • Saffron chicken & herb salad (which doesn’t begin to do justice to this salad made sliced fennel, cilantro, mint, basil, with an orange-honey-saffron vinaigrette reduction)

The only recipe that failed to meet my expectations was the one with wheat berries. It took forever for them to soften — and I made sure to buy the ones described as soft. A friend of mine had no better luck when she tried the recipe. Otherwise, I enjoyed the others. Ottolenghi is unusual in his ability to consistently and successfully surprise home cooks. Sometimes the surprise comes in the combination of flavors. At other moments it’s the addition of one seemingly banal element that transforms the dish. Sauteing pine nuts in butter is an example of the latter kind of surprise. Buttered pine nuts is his main party trick in this volume. Try it. The following risotto falls into the category of Surprise Caused by Combination of Flavors: feta, caraway, and smoked paprika.

To sum up, Jerusalem is well worth a pilgrimage to your nearest independent bookseller. I haven’t cooked so much from one book since… when? Ruth Reichl’s Gourmet Cookbook? Naomi Duguid’s Beyond the Great Wall? Anything by Marcella Hazan? A cookbook writer for the ages.

So, to begin…

1 cup / 200g pearl barley

2 Tb / 30g unsalted butter

6 Tb / 90ml olive oil

2 small celery stalks, cut into 1/4-inch dice

2 small shallots, cut into 1/4-inch dice

4 garlic cloves, cut into 1/16-inch / 2mm dice

Shadowcook: Really, Yotam? It wouldn’t have been sufficient to say “finely diced”?

4 thyme sprigs

1/2 tsp smoked paprika

Shadowcook: I used pimetón. It added a lovely aftertaste of smoke — until, that is, the caraway kicked in.

1 bay leaf

4 strips lemon peel

1/4 tsp chile flakes

Shadowcook: I experimented with Aleppo pepper, but now I think red pepper flakes would have given it a firmer boost.

one 14-oz / 400g can chopped tomatoes

scant 3 cups / 700ml vegetable stock

Shadowcook: I used chicken broth.

1 1/4 cups / 300ml passata (sieved crushed tomatoes)

Shadowcook: Seemed unnecessary, so I left it out and I’m glad I did. The ratio of liquid to grain worked quite well without it.

1 Tb caraway seeds

Shadowcook: Too much. I would cut this amount in half next time. The caraway overwhelms the paprika, lemon peel, and chile flakes.

10 1/2 oz / 300g feta cheese, broken into roughly 3/4-inch / 2cm pieces

1 Tb fresh oregano leaves

Rinse the pearl barley well under cold water and leave to drain.

Melt the butter and 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a very large frying pan and cook the celery, shallots, and garlic over gentle heat for 5 minutes, until soft. Add the barley, thyme, paprika, bay leaf, lemon peel, chile flakes, tomatoes, stock, passata, and salt. Stir to combine. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce to a very gentle simmer and cook for 45 minutes, stirring frequently to make sure the risotto does not catch on the bottom of the pan. When ready, the barley should be tender and most of the liquid absorbed.

Meanwhile, toast the caraway seeds in a dry pan for a couple of minutes. Then lightly crush them so that some whole seeds remain. Add them to the feta with the remaining 4 tablespoons / 60ml olive oil and gently mix to combine.

Once the risotto is ready, check the seasoning and then divide it among four shallow bowls. Top each with marinated feta, including the oil, and a sprinkling of oregano leaves.


County Road 43, Guinda, California. Website: http://www.fullbellyfarm.com/index.html

belly@fullbellyfarm.com

Sitting in the shade at a lovely, unpretentiously decorated picnic table, I looked out to a field in the distance to rows of blue, purple, red, and orange flowers. In the sunlight, the colors blurred together like an impressionist’s canvas. I sipped a lemon verbena tisane. People chatted on either side of me as we waited for our hosts to bring us our lunch. This scene, this lunch, this farm, aroused in me a nostalgia for something I’ve been missing. Now, here on this farm, I surrendered to the seduction of food, not Food.

Capay Valley’s Full Belly Farm, one of California’s oldest certified organic farms, reminded me that I do need to think about what I eat, where it comes from, and how it’s grown no matter how sick and tired I am of the subject of food. For the past year, I’ve been in search of simplicity: eating less, cooking less, cooking more simply. I eat more vegetables, simply cooked and have eliminated processed foods almost completely. More recently, I’ve given up my beloved refined grains. Sugar was never an issue: gone long ago. I am heartily fed up with the esoterica of gastronomy.

When the food writer Elaine Corn invited me to tag along to a lunch organized by the food group, Les Dames d’Escoffier, at Full Belly Farm, I had to work up the enthusiasm. Within an hour of arriving there, I was very happy I went. We were a group of about twenty that day.

One of the farm’s founders, Dru Rivers, met us in the parking area. The blue of her eyes pops out from her sun-beaten face. Her hands are working hands. She has a sense of joy about her that convinces you she loves this back-breaking life. She took us on a tour of the farm — 350 acres in total, of which ten to twenty are under cultivation at one time. The rest of the land is covered by fruit and nut orchards. One quarter of their farm goes to individual subscribers, one quarter goes to farmer’s markets and the other half supplies co-ops and organic grocery stores. They grow and mill wheat. They raise sheep for wool and meat. (Knitters, Dru makes beautiful, un-dyed wool available on the website.) There are over sixty people on the payroll. One of the people who helped devise the certification standards for organic farms in California, Dru says she now is looking for a way to describe another level of “organic,” a term that has become debased over the years. Her ideal new certification would comprehend labor relations, quality of workplace, as well as make clear where the boundary between mechanization and organic hand farming lies.

Back at the lunch tables, we sat down to wait for our food. Dru’s son, Amon, and his wife said a few words about our meal before they brought out platters. He trained as a chef in restaurants in San Francisco, where he met his wife. A year ago, they moved back to the Capay Valley. His mother was a tyrant, he said with a big smile on his face. Dru and her husband, Paul Muller, made all four of her kids work on the farm, and they hated it. Now that three of the four have finished college, they’ve embraced the life. The fourth child wants to return when she graduates. I think this testimony impressed me even more than the food. And the food was good! Little Gem lettuce salad dressed with balsamic, pomegranate syrup, and their own olive oil; egg tagliatelle with fresh cream and freshly-picked peas; herbed lamb roasted with baby Russian fingerling potatoes; honey lavender ice cream. Simple, simply prepared, and utterly delicious.

When I left, I felt reaffirmed in the approach to food that I have been evolving over the past year but I found again the joy in food. I want not to be mindful of how I eat without treating food and cooking like an expensive hobby. Food is life, food is friends, food is nourishing. But it’s not all there is to life.

Full Belly Farm welcomes people to reserve lunches for groups, weddings, parties.


I haven’t cooked much lately. It’s got something to do with those tasks that put a paycheck in my account each month, I’m sure. But the food writer Elaine Corn sent me a link to her most recent blogpost about how to organize a Thanksgiving dinner without crying or wanting to divorce your family. It struck me as so commonsensical, so “look, it’s not rocket science”, and so refreshingly straightforward, with infinite potential for gussing it up that I felt I had to put a link to it here. And it’s so Elaine.

You’ll find her post here.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!


from Cupcake Heaven, p. 21.

Lately, I’ve been looking for cupcake recipe books that range outside the parameters of children’s bake sales and birthday parties. Was there, I wondered, an adult cupcake cookbook? It didn’t take me long to find a few that have interesting cupcakes, including savory ones. This book, in particular, looked promising. It contains recipes for Lavender cupcakes, Orange and Poppyseed Cupcakes, Rosewater Cupcakes, Maple and Pecan Cupcakes, as well as the usual holiday sorts of confections.

This carrot and cardamom version appealed to me. It had all the appeal of carrot cake plus the promise of cardamom. However, I had to make a significant change to the recipe. I refused to buy self-rising flour. So, I substituted all-purpose flour and 1 teaspoon of baking powder for it. I couldn’t detect a difference. All in all, the cupcake tasted a little bland. Next time, more cardamom, a pinch of sea salt? The mascarpone worked very well.

Makes 12 regular sized cupcakes or 24 or more mini cupcakes

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

2/3 cup sunflower oil

2 eggs

grated peel of 1 unwaxed orange

seeds from 5 cardamom pods, crushed

Shadowcook: Next time, I’m going to increase the cardamom to 6 or 7 pods. And once again I used the Kohn Rikon ratchet mill to excellent effect.

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1 1/2 cups self-rising flour

Shadowcook: I used instead 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour and 1 teaspoon of baking powder.

2 carrots, grated

Shadowcook: Use the small-holed side of the grater.

1/2 cup shelled walnuts or pecans, roughly chopped

to decorate:

2/3 cup mascarpone

finely grated peel of 1 unwaxed orange

1 1/2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/3 cup confestioners’ sugar, sifted

a 12-cup cupcake pan, lined with paper liners

Preheat oven to 350.

Put the sugar in a bowl and break up using the back of a fork, then beat in the oil and eggs. Stir in the orange peel, crushed caradmom seeds, and ginger, then sift the flour into the mixture and fold in, followed by the carrot and nuts.

Spoon the mixture into the paper liners or silicone molds and bake in the preheated oven for about 20 minutes until risen and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

To decorate, beat the mascarpone, orange peel, lemon juice, and sugar together in a bowl spread over the cupcakes.


From Marvellous Mini Cakes, pp. 10-11.

I recently came across quite by chance a series called Les Petites Plats Français (Small French Plates), published by Simon & Schuster. The measurement are all metric, so I imagine this series was intended for a British audience. Because they were so cheap, I picked up this one, Sensational Cupcakes, and Meringue Magic — the kind of marketing that makes me want to retch — to draw upon for my contributions to the monthly drinks-and-nibbles party I attend. Of course, my new cookbooks provided me with the opportunity to acquire more cooking equipment (just what I need!). For the second time recently, Sur La Table has come through brilliantly for me. Not only did they have exactly the mini loaf pans I needed at an exceptionally reasonable price, I also found silicon molds for mini cupcakes, my preferred size for cocktail parties (but I couldn’t find a link to them on Sur La Table’s website).

Although the recipes produced only six mini loaves, those six go a long ways. Sliced, they are a good vehicle for cheese, bits of prosciutto, or a slice of fig. And from start to finish it took me about forty-five minutes to make them. Not bad, when you have to rush out the door for a party…

Preparation time: 10 minutes.

Cooking time: 30 minutes

Makes 4-6 mini cakes

2 eggs

70 ml (2 1/2 fl oz) olive oil

70 ml (2 1/2 fl oz) milk

140g (5 oz) plain flour, sifted

70g (2 1/2 oz) grated Gruyère cheese

1 teaspoon baking powder

50 g (scant 2 oz) Parmesan cheese, crumbled into large chunks

70 g (2 1/2 oz) grated Parmesan

6 peppercorns (black or Szechuan), ground to a rough powder

Shadowcook: Another reason to get the Kuhn Rikon ratchet mill at Sur La Table.

a handful of walnuts or pecans, roughly chopped

Preheat oven to 180 C / 375 F.

Grease your cake molds and dust with flour.

Shadowcook: I used olive oil.

In a bowl, lightly beat the eggs with the oil and milk. Add the flour, Gruyère cheese, both lots of Parmesan cheese, the ground peppercorns and the walnuts. Season with salt and stir togethewr. Add the baking powder.

As soon as you have stirred in the baking powder, divide the mixture between the molds and put in the oven straight away.

Cook for around 30 minutes. Towards the end of the cooking time, keep an eye on the cakes and prick with a skewer if they seem ready. If it comes out clean, the cakes are done.

Leave in tins to cool slightly before turning out.

Tip: You can also keep aside a quarter of the crumbled Parmesan cheese and sprinkle it on the mini cakes just before cooking.

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