Posts Tagged ‘kitchen’

Our Hardy Ancestors II

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

twin-lakes-68

You know what all these guys had in common? (Well, besides a gene pool and a fish dinner.)  They all liked cake. And, they all liked bacon. These “Hardy Ancestors” posts are dedicated to recipes that had their best days a lifetime ago, with my great-grandfather (an HA if there ever was one)  at the far left on the sofa. Days when food was abundant if you didn’t mind the lack of variety, and work was hard and long enough that you didn’t. And then there was dessert.

My father liked a “planned dessert”. I don’t think my mother had ever heard of such a thing growing up, but it was an ongoing topic of discussion at the dinner table all their married lives. A planned dessert implied something thought out and prepared long before the meal: apple pie, butterscotch layer cake or bread pudding studded with raisins and served with hard sauce. The category did not include ice cream, store-bought cookies or instant pudding. Occasionally there would be a recipe that would satisfy both husband and wife – the perfect blend of yin and yang for ingredients, formality and ease of preparation. I give you:

Cinnamon Bacon Sponge

1 egg, beaten, 1/2 C sugar, 1/2 C molasses, 1/4 C melted bacon fat, 1/2 C boiling water

1 tsp soda, 1 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp salt, 1 and 1/8 C flour (a heaping cup)

Mix the bacon fat with the boiling water. Stir, and when slightly cooled add the egg and sugars. Add to the dry ingredients and mix well. Place into a greased 8 x 8 pan an bake 35 to 40 minutes at 350. Serve with whipped cream.

I like to add chopped apples or raisins, and I use the pan drippings from our best pepper bacon for extra kick. Bon appetit!

Pesto

Monday, October 5th, 2009

Against all odds, we had a fairly good crop of basil this year. The wet spring set it back but the prolonged drought and intense heat in August made for bushy plants with bright green glossy leaves. I grow Genovese and sacred basil. They are markedly different plants, but a few leaves of basil o. in the Genovese makes for a smart, almost lemon accent. I also make incense of from the sacred basil; dried, crumbled and mixed in a paste of white beeswax to make small,  very potent cones.

So, the other night (just ahead of the freeze warning) I harvested all the plants at once and set out to make pesto for the winter.

pesto part I I don’t use pesticides and I’m in a fairly rural area so I don’t wash the leaves. I shake off the dust from our gravel road and rub the branches gently with a dish towel and they’re ready to go. If you do have to wash the plants, let them hang dry before continuing.

I make a huge batch of very plain pesto at the end of the season – basil, olive oil and sea salt – and pack it in to freezer jars. Later, as I use a jar in a recipe, I may add garlic, pine nuts, white wine vinegar, walnut oil, etc.

Use scissors to cut off the tough ends and blossoms. Dump the good parts into your food processor, add about 1/4 C olive oil and process until blended – but not yet pureed. Then add another batch of leaves, another 1/4 C of oil and some sea salt. Process until smooth, adding more oil if necessary. The processing time will vary based on the water content in the leaves and the amount of stems. You can do this in a blender, but it takes much longer and requires more oil. Pesto is actually the reason I have a food processor – I get along fine without a clothes dryer or a dishwasher, but I can’t make pesto without a Cuisinart.

pesto 2It should look like this, and smell divine. You can be very ’70’s about this and freeze it in ice cube trays (pop the cubes out as soon as they are frozen and seal them in a plastic bag to avoid drying). I like to use the freezer jars from Ball. They’re stackable in the freezer, the lids screw down tightly, they clean up well and I’ll like them even better when I find them made of recycled materials.

You’ll end up with an odd amount – too little to fill a jar. I suggest orrechiette (little ears) with chopped broccoli, Parmesan  and tons of pesto, and a little bit of crusty bread.  Just the thing after a long afternoon of putting food by.

Take your largest metal pan. . .

Monday, September 21st, 2009

I love old recipes that start with that sort of line.  I have one that says; “hang the bear for three days in cold weather”, too.  But today’s post is about roasted vegetables. It has been 35 degrees here in the mornings, a good excuse to run the oven.

roasted vegetables 1Oil up your largest pan. Really, you want leftovers – for quesadillas, soup, omelets, everything goes better with roasted vegetables.

I harvested leeks, parsnips, carrots, onions, shallots and crab apples for this particular batch. I would have added my own potatoes, but the mice ate them, and I had to go to the farmers market and commiserate about the lousy weather.

Add all of the cut up vegetables to a large bowl. In a 2 cup measure, add about a cup of olive oil, 2 tsp sea salt and pour it over and mix it around. My hippy book says to use your hands, but I can’t recommend it. Pour everything into the oiled pan, place in the oven and set temp to 400 degrees. About an hour into it, take the pan out of the oven and stir to coat the veggies thoroughly in the sauce. At this point I add minced garlic and whatever herbs sound good: rosemary, sage, parsley, fennel, caraway, whatever. Stir again and put back in the oven for 30 minutes.  Serve with whole wheat bread, local beer and cucumber salad with sour cream horseradish dressing.

Bonus pics of the garden plus butterflies who really should have headed South already.

roasted vegetables 2

Raspberry redux

Wednesday, August 5th, 2009
Yummmmmmmmm.

Yummmmmmmmm.

We have a lot of raspberries, even in the worst year in memory for any kind of produce. They are soft – almost too fragile to pick – and seem to progress from hard pink to overripe in a matter of hours, but there are plenty of them. I’m sure part of the reason is that I have two hives of local pollinators who managed to get the job done even through near constant rain and below-average temperatures.

Today I went out immediately after work and picked about 2 C before the rain caught me out. I actually heard the wall of water rushing through the trees, but didn’t make it to the house before I was soaked through and the bowl of berries was wet. I didn’t have enough for a batch of jam, so I mixed in some blueberries and made:

Martha Louise Miller Barnard Synder’s Berry Delight

1/4 C butter, 1/4 C flour, 3/4 C brown sugar, 1 C white sugar, 2 Tbs lemon juice, 1/4 tsp. salt, 4 C berries (divided) Adjust the proportions up or down for the amount of berries you have on hand, and feel free to add a dash of allspice or cinnamon.

Put all the ingredients except 2 C of the berries in a heavy bottomed sauce pan. I put all the ingredients in first and the berries on top, but I remember my mother and grandmother putting the berries in first. Cook, stirring often, until everything is melted together and the sauce is bubbling. Let it simmer for 3 – 6 minutes, depending on how thick you like your sauce. Empty the sauce into a serving bowl and let it cool slightly, about 10 minutes. Stir in the reserved berries and serve warm, over vanilla ice cream. Or use as pie filling in a baked crust, or just eat with a soup spoon over the kitchen counter.

My Grandmother (Martha Louise) had a house on a hill in New Hampshire where we spent summers picking blueberries into peanut butter tins, collecting the brass casings from .22 ammunition and swimming in Newfound Lake. The mothers stayed up late doing laundry on the wringer washer and making pots of Blueberry Delight, which is also very, very good with raspberries.

Raspberry Jam

Sunday, August 2nd, 2009

Tonight we celebrate the first batch of raspberry jam from Garden 2009. We’ve had rain nearly every day this summer and the berries are soft and fragile. The canes have been blown off their supports so much of the fruit is hidden beneath overlapping branches or resting on the ground. Picking is a lot thornier this year as a result, and the mosquitoes add insult to prickliness.

I like to use a large, plastic bowl for picking raspberries.  That way, when I jump back and let out a girlie scream because of the leopard toad (or fox sparrow, or grass snake) that just leapt up my leg, I don’t break the bowl and spillage is minimal.

First, lay out your equipment. 2 Quarts of berries (5 C mashed) needs 7 C of sugar, 1 package of commercial pectin and makes about 9 Cups. You’ll need 4 pint jars, lids and screw tops, a canning funnel and  a jar lifter (both optional but make life a lot easier), a large kettle and a wooden spoon. Clean everything, including the kitchen counter where you will be working. Use clean dishtowels. Wash the jars out with ammonia and dish soap and leave them upside down in the dishrack until ready to fill. raspberry-jam-2Or hey – keep them in the dishwasher if you have a dishwasher. You probably do; I think I may be the only person I know who doesn’t. And you’ve seen my kitchen – if I had one I’d have to put it outside in the yard. Anyway, place the lids under water in a small saucepan, bring to a boil, turn the heat off and let them sit in the hot water. Or, you know, dishwasher. I don’t have a dryer either. Make sure your wooden spoon is clean and aroma free, since the last time you used it was making black chili made with coffee and beer and you don’t want your jam redolent of either.

So, 2 quarts of berries comes down to 5 Cups mashed in your good steel kettle.

raspberry-jam-1Yes, there are a few blueberries in there. It happens.  Turn on the heat to medium high and stir a little until you get a small amount of juice forming. Add the pectin and stir until absorbed.

This is all on the package directions, but you’ll want to wait till this mixture boils and add the sugar all at once.

I agree, this looks like a lot of sugar.raspberry-jam-3

What can I say? We’re preserving food here, folks, and before sugar was a problem involving weigh gain and rotting teeth, it was a preservative.

After you dump this huge bowl of sugar in the pot and stir the lumps out the mixture will begin to look like JAM. Bring the mixture to a full boil that will not “stir down”, that is, will not stop when you stir into it. You’ll notice a complete change when this happens – the jam will appear to be made completely of tiny bubbles and it will grow up the sides of the pot. Lower the heat a little and keep stirring for one minute.

Now allow the jam to sit while you grab those beautifully clean jars out of the dish rack/dishwasher and line them up on the clean cutting board with the pristine canning funnel in the first one. At this point you can take a metal spoon and skim the foam off the top of the mixturWe. This is probably a good idea if you don’t grow your own fruit – the foam can contain dust and impurities – but I skip this step. Give it one more stir to move the larger pieces off the bottom of the pan and pour into the jars, leaving about 1/4 inch head space. This is where an actual canning funnel comes in handy – there will be a line on the inside surface at exactly the right height. When all the jars are full, and you’ve dumped any leftover jam into a spare coffee cup or whatever, wipe the tops quickly with a paper towel to remove any splatter. There shouldn’t be much, but it will interfere with the seal of the lids.

Carefully drain the lids without touching them with your fingers (I use the jar lifter to hold them in place). Place the lids on the jars without touching the undersides and screw the “screw top” down lightly. Move the jars to a towel or trivet using pot holders or the jar lifter – they’ll be very hot (ask me how I know) in a draft free place, close together but not touching. After a few minutes I turn them upside down for 10 minutes or so. Folklore says this improves the seal and the “mix” of heavy pieces in the syrup. I never have a problem with those things, so I keep doing it this way – experiential learning has its place, eh? Tighten the lids after the jars have cooled. The next day, check the seal – the top depression should be sucked down, not bowed up, and there should not be any leakage around the lid. If you have any doubt, refrigerate and use that jar right away.

Be sure you mark the jars somehow. People can and do make lovely labels to celebrate the fruits of their labor, but I tend to grab a Sharpie and write the month and year on the lid. If there’s something different about the batch I write that too – I filled out the necessary amount with strawberries, or used ground oranges with this batch of peach preserves. All this is good to know when you grab a jar out of the canning cupboard to put on the waffles next Christmas morning, but you won’t necessarily need a beautiful label.

Next, clean up (because there’s is nothing stickier or more beloved of ants than a batch of jam) and sample the leftovers from that coffee cup. And think about what to preserve next – lekvar? Rose hips? Mint jelly? The world is just waiting for you to cook it down and pour it into a clean jar.

raspberry-jam-4

Monkey Bread

Thursday, July 23rd, 2009

monkey-breadThis is a really ugly photo of a wonderful cake. Seriously, it’s so good it has been massacred by its fans. I have no idea why this cake is called “Monkey Bread” – oh wait, I could look it up. Wikipedia says the origin of the name is not certain, but it may have been the cake’s resemblance to the Monkey Puzzle Tree, an ancient conifer that evolved spiky leaves to prevent the dinosaurs from eating it before it grew out of range. The leaves are so sharp that the French name for the tree is “Monkey’s Despair”. Monkeys are not native anywhere in the range of the tree, however, so we’ll let this one go as “uncertain origin”. I love the interwebs. Here is the recipe. Make it for dinner-desert and birthdays for those under 12 and over 70.   Not such a hit at bake sales and tea parties.

You will need:

1/2 C Brown Sugar
* 2 sticks of butter (1 cup)
* Bundt Cake Pan
* 2 – 3 tsp Cinnamon

2 recipes of your favorite buttermilk biscuits. Hint – if you’re doing this with children, or at camp, or even without any excuse what-so-ever, you can use three cans of those biscuits from the dairy case at the grocery store. Get the regular, non-flaky kind or they won’t fit in the bundt pan. And also, no one will be able to tell. There’s a reason they engineer this stuff – those are pretty good biscuits in the tube.

1 C sugar

1 pint blueberries or raspberries, or 1 C raisins

Make the biscuit dough (or pop the tube – you know you want to). Cut the biscuits in to quarters. Put them in a plastic bag with the cup of white sugar and 2 (I use 3) tsp cinnamon and roll them around until coated. Pile the quarters in the bundt pan – try to lever the pieces up the sides and leave a tunnel in the middle for the fruit. Scatter the fruit and add the remaining pieces to cover.  I wish I’d taken some pictures during the process, but I had a load of laundry in, dinner at Aunt Y’s later in the day, weeds growing as I watched, you know the drill.

Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the brown sugar, cook until “married”, as it says in my mother-in-law’s Joy of Cooking. Basically, the mixture will turn tan and bubbly. Don’t let it get too sticky, we’re not making candy here. Pour it over the biscuit pieces and fruit. Note that I didn’t mention greasing the bundt pan – I’ve never had this cake stick to any pan, no matter how fancy the shape. The dough is just no match for the half-tonne of butter we just poured over it.

Bake at 350 for about 40 minutes until dark and shiny on top. Let it cool 15 – 20 minutes before you turn it out on to a generous plate – there will be a little extra sauce. Serve right then or store at room temperature for a day – I guarantee you won’t have it hanging around for longer than that. I like to serve this with extra fruit and whipped cream, because I hate my arteries.  Wonderful. Still no idea why they call it Monkey Bread.

Recipe post: Summersnaps

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009

sugarsnaps in progressNot that it’s very summery here -  we’re having a damp, cool, long English spring. The high temperature here was 57 F and the low tonight is predicted to be 40 degrees, which is on the chilly side for the folks already filling up the campgrounds. Time to heat up the kitchen by making cookies!

Summersnaps are spice cookies with fruit. This recipe calls for currants cooked briefly in lemonade to plump them. Cook, drain and pat the currants dry a little ahead of time so they’re not too hot when you add them to the batter. I’ve also used raisins, dried apricot pieces and dried apple chunks.

  • 1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/3 cup unsulfured molasses
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/8 tsp 5 spice powder (optional, but nice)
  • 1 cup dried currants, cooked in lemonade, drained and cooled

Cream the butter with the sugar until the mixture is light and fluffy and beat in the molasses. Into the bowl sift together the flour, the baking soda, the salt, and the spices, beat the dough until it is combined well, and stir in the currants. You can roll this dough into a log, cover with wax paper and slice into rounds after chilling for an hour. What I normally do is drop the dough by teaspoons into a bowl of sugar, roll into a ball and plop on a greased cookie sheet. Actually, as you can see from the photo, I’m a sucker for Silplat which has made all my dreams of successful cookie-baking come true.

summersnaps ready to go

I have a galley kitchen. The counter top is a slate blackboard from the old Pemetic School and measures 3′ by 23″, some of which is taken up by bottles of wine and jars of honey, the coffee grinder and a big box of PG Tips. The cookies in this photo are resting on a wonderful invention: the Baker’s Cooling Rack. I wouldn’t be able to handle 3 or 4 hot cookie sheets and a cooling rack any other way.

Potato Bunker

Saturday, May 2nd, 2009
Before. . .

Before. . .

Today I planted potatoes. We’re on the downside of the moon with a waxing gibbous (as much as I hate to subscribe to that sort of thing, I also like to cover all the bases) and the garden was still bug-free (at least until 7:30 this evening, when they arrived in force). I filled the bed with a mix of peat, seafood compost, seaweed and gravel, then pushed the seed potatoes in to a depth of about 2″. Then I covered the bed with mulch hay to a depth of 3′ and that’s it. Around the end of August I can rummage around in the hay and gather enough new potatoes for supper without killing the plants.

I’ll need to pile more hay on the bed over the course of the summer. The plants will grow through the pile and displace it, so I’ll add more hay to keep sunlight off the potatoes. It will also keep enough moisture in so that it shouldn’t need watering, and will keep the weeds down. Mulch hay is great stuff and cheap this time of year. Here’s the potato bunker wearing its hay-hat. I got a deal on my last four bales at the Feed and Seed for drawing a rat, but that’s another story.

All-Blue, Sangre and Butterball potatoes

All-Blue, Sangre and Butterball potatoes

Butter Tarts

Thursday, April 30th, 2009
That one that's second in from the left, on the bottom? That's the only one you should look at.

That one that's second in from the left, on the bottom? That's the only one you should look at.

We live next door to Canada – you can be in St. George in a couple hours from here – so we’re familiar with their cuisine.  Poutine, KD, Tim Horton’s (all of which I can do without) and those jewels in the crown – butter tarts. I’ve had them from bakeries and been reasonably fond of these bite-sized pecan pies-with-benefits, but then Bethany’s Canadian fiance Ben brought a homemade one for me to try. That was it, I fell in love. Ben is very nice, too.

I’ve made them several times since then and taken a few shortcuts on a recipe that I took parts of from several different websites and library books, mostly The Best of Bridge – Royal Treats for Entertaining by Halpen Brimacombe, who probably went to Hogwarts.The recipe below is how I like them – with toasted pecans and raisins – but they are often found in their minimalist state, with simply the pastry crust and the filling.

Butter Tarts

Pate Brisee: 1 1/4 C flour, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1 Tbs sugar, 1/2 C unsalted butter, chilled, 1/4 C ice water. Make the pastry crust in the usual way in a food processor. Dump the dough out on to wax paper and form a log about 3″ diameter, set aside in a cool place. Don’t wash out the food processor.

Toast 1/2 C pecans, chop fine in the food processor and set aside in a bowl. Soften 1/2 C raisins in lemonade, set aside.

Filling: To the (empty, but unwashed) food processor, add 1/3 C unsalted butter cut into 1″ pieces, 1 C brown sugar and mix to a paste, add 2 large eggs and 1 tsp vanilla and mix briefly. Add 1/4 C light cream or half and half, mix.  Leave the filling in the food processor for now.

Go back to the log of pastry and divide it into 12 pieces. Roll each piece into a 4″ diameter circle. This dough is probably sticky when warm, but it’s only warm in my kitchen on August afternoons when I’m not inside rolling out pastry dough. Be forewarned and use a considerable amount of flour. Lay the dough into a 12 well muffin tin and add the pecans and raisins. Mix the filling one more time for about 5 seconds in the food processor, then pour over the nuts and raisins to fill each cup.

Bake at 375 for about 20 minutes, until the crust is browned and the filling is set. Allow to cool to fully set and eat at least one standing over the sink.

First meal from this year’s garden

Saturday, April 25th, 2009

The sorrel is up in enough quantity to make dinner.

sorrellCommon Sorrel or Garden Sorrel (Rumex acetosa)  Sorrel has been in cultivation for centuries. It has a strong lemon taste (some people think it tastes like kiwi) due to a high concentration of oxalic acid.  I picked about 2 cups of leaves (packed),  sauteed chopped onions and garlic chives (also up in the garden)  in butter, made a roux with a little flour, added chicken stock and white wine and added the chopped sorrel. Serve on buttered toast points.

Not much else is in bloom and the trees are just barely budded. Today the thermometer hit 70 and the leaves appeared to swell as I watched. The heather and squill in the alpine garden are full of  orchard mason and bumblebees.

alpine-april