Posts Tagged ‘recipe’

Plum Duff

Friday, November 27th, 2009
plum duff

Normally I wouldn’t start a post off with a picture, but “Plum Duff” isn’t really going to tell you much all by itself. And the Wikipedia article will re-direct to “Spotted Dick” and then you’re REALLY going to need a picture. It’s a dessert, people. A lovely, delicious, traditional dessert created by people for whom the term “Spotted Dick” was a fond endearment.

For this recipe you’ll need a few specialty items. I always hate running across that in a recipe I perhaps haven’t read closely before starting out; “You’ll need a flugelhorn!”,  announces the author, brightly. “These days you can find one easily on Amazon!”.  So, advance warning, for this recipe you will need a pudding mold or basin with a lid or cover, a metal trivet to rest the mold on the bottom of a pot, either tall enough to enclose it, or close enough that a collar of aluminum foil will do the trick.

My Great Aunt Margaret’s Plum Duff

  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening
  • 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
  • 2 cups cooked prunes
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 2 tablespoons cold milk plum duff 1
  • Beat eggs well.
  • Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and whisk in the eggs slowly, so they don’t cook.
  • Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork*.
  • Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.
  • Fill greased pudding mold 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.
  • * This used to be a very messy process – cutting the prunes with a sharp pair of sewing scissors, cooking and then mashing the results. Now we can throw the cooked, drained fruit in the cuisinart and have done with it.

    Now mix in the prunes, add the flour. . .

    plum duff 2

    And spoon the whole mess into the greased pudding mold. Now would be a good time to mention that the pudding is going to be a solid mass in the bottom of this mold after you’ve cooked it and allowed it to cool. It will look like it is solidly glued in there, but no – set the pan in very hot water for a few minutes and then invert over a plate. It should fall right out – if not feel free to repeat the process. It’s not like this stuff is fragile.

    plum duff 4To the left in this photo is my aluminum trivet, useful for keeping the mold off the bottom of the pot. It is stamped “1820 Cincinnati” on the bottom, so hey – an antique! I expect modern trivets would work just as well. Also, please ignore the Goya Black Bean Soup can. I’m not making anything from this product placement – the can was there for our supper of huevos rancheros later on that night.

    I didn’t think I had a photo of the pot with its aluminum collar, but here it is. Evidently I’d thought I’d blog my recipe for huevos rancheros, because there’s all the fixin’s, but thought the better of it. Everybody already has a favorite recipe for those.  But waaayyy in the back there you can see how to make your stew pot a steamer for your pudding mold.

    plum duff 5Steam the pudding at a low to moderate temperature for about an hour. You shouldn’t be able to hear it boiling madly, and check about half way through to see that the water level still comes close to 3/4 of the way up the mold.Add more hot (from the tap) water if you’re getting low. The temperature may drop below simmer for a minute but it’s not going to bother your Duff.

    Cool the pudding in the mold overnight in a cool place, then unmold it and decorate for the season. I used horehound, lavender and geranium because this is Thanksgiving and you can never tell when someone is going to eat the garnish – better to make it all edible.

    Now go check out all the interesting steamed dishes out there, like The Bitten Word’s Persimmon Cake (which they did w/o a pudding mold).

    2 large eggs
    1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening
    1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
    2 cups cooked prunes
    1 cup all-purpose flour
    1 teaspoon baking soda
    2 tablespoons cold milk
    1. Beat eggs well.
    2. Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and add to eggs.
    3. Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork.
    4. Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.
    5. Fill greased pudding molds 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.
    6. Serve hot with Rum Sauce or whipped crea

    2 large eggs

    1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening

    1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

    2 cups cooked prunes

    1 cup all-purpose flour

    1 teaspoon baking soda

    2 tablespoons cold milk

    1. Beat eggs well.

    2. Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and add to eggs.

    3. Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork.

    4. Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.

    5. Fill greased pudding molds 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.

    6. Serve hot with Rum Sauce or whipped cream.

    1. m.

    Winter’s green – Parsley Butter

    Sunday, November 15th, 2009

    If pesto is August – Genovese basil ground with green olive oil and pine nuts – then November is parsley butter. We have had an unusually warm fall here in the Northeast as tropical storms in the Gulf of Mexico push warm air and tepid ocean water up the coast, changing our Maine November to a balmy May – complete with heavy fog and mosquitoes. It won’t last. When the 20 degree nights return, the Gigante d’Italia Parsley will still be growing  glossy and dark green in the raised bed near the front door.

    parsley butter 1I don’t really have a recipe for parsley butter – it’s more of a kitchen staple. Try this on a bowl of hot pasta, in an omelet, or as we did yesterday, on tea sandwiches.

    Put a cup (2 sticks) of salted butter, cut into 1″ slices,  in your food processor. One stick will work too, but it isn’t enough mass for a regular (8 cup?) bowl and you’ll spend  a lot of time stopping the machine and using a spatula to force the lump of butter back into circulation. Trust me, I know.

    Add a huge amount of parsley. (See, I told you this wasn’t really a recipe.) A close gripped handful of leaves or about a cup chopped loosely, should do it. Use the small leaves close to the center of the plant for this, if you have a plant. I have been known to use two cups on occasion – like right before the final freeze in January, when I know it will be July before I do this again.

    Add some oregano (2 tsp dry, 1/4 C fresh), 1 tsp garlic powder, 1/2 tsp sea salt. Pulse until the mixture is bright green and looks like you could spread it without chunks of plant material getting in the way.

    Now dry some cucumber slices in a clean dish towel, get out your Pepperidge Farm thin white slices, and make some tea sandwiches. It’s a good thing.

    parsley butter 007

    Our Hardy Ancestors, cont.

    Friday, November 13th, 2009

    fishing group coloradoFour generations go fishing. It sounds like the product of a random sentence generator.

    Why do I have a dozen pictures of us fishing? We probably went all of twice – to a beautiful resevoir where Frank and Wat often fished under the bright Colorado sky. We baited hooks  with orange roe that glowed like jewelry and got my fingers all sticky. After a long day we took  home a damp canvas bag of small brown trout.

    If you actually catch a fish you will need to read  pages 56 through 58 of the Institute Cookbook, where an extremely thorough description of cleaning, drawing, scaling and disemboweling your fish may be had, so there is no need of us repeating that here. Seriously, this is the only cookbook in my collection that uses the word “putrification” four times in one paragraph. And I had to look up “ptomaines” at Wikipedia. Now we will ignore your gutted fish, resting on it’s plank of ice in the cellar (to avoid tainting the butter in the icebox), and have a nice recipe for deviled crab that requires “cracker dust” instead.  Remember, as you read this, that the crabs being fried for 10 minutes at the end of this recipe have been boiled for half an hour at the beginning and then cooked “over a hot fire” for a little while longer.

    6 crabs, 1 hard-boiled egg, 4 Tbs butter, ground nutmeg, 1/2 C heavy cream, salt and cayenne, 1/4 tsp sweet marjoram, cracker dust

    Put the crabs into hot water, add salt and boil for thirty minutes. Cut the meat into small pieces, add the hard-boiled egg, cream, butter and seasoning and cook for a few minutes over a hot fire, thickening the mixture with cracker dust. Fill the shells, dip them in the raw egg, beaten, then in cracker dust; place in a hot oven or drop into boiling fat and fry until deep brown.

    Don’t try this at home.

    Apple Brown Veronica

    Wednesday, October 28th, 2009

    Apple Brown Betty is a wonderful concoction that always involves bread crumbs; a deep-dish, homey dessert that involves bowls and spoons and oftimes a little vanilla ice cream. This weekend I wanted something more portable. I ended up with a hefty shortbread crust, a layer of very thin-sliced apples and the ubiquitous bread crumbs drizzled with butter – something that I could eat out of hand, wandering around the yard with a cup of tea. I explained to The Man that it was almost Apple Brown Betty, and he suggested that I name the new dessert after the other girl, hence, Veronica.

    This is a wonderful recipe if you have a food processor. Put the ingredients in and process, one after another, and don’t bother to clean it between times. I love this recipe.

    Apple Brown Veronica

    • 6 slices firm white sandwich bread (I use anything here – sesame baguettes, english muffins, dinner rolls, even cinnamon raisin bread.)

    Shortbread

    • 1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) cold unsalted butter (Did I mention this is not a diet friendly recipe? Don’t skimp, and don’t substitute, or it won’t be Veronica.)
    • 2 cups all-purpose flour
    • 1 cup packed light brown sugar
    • 1/2 teaspoon salt

    Apple filling

    • 1 stick unsalted butter
    • 2 lb tart apples (4 large, seven small-to-middlin)
    • 1 cup granulated sugar
    • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
    • Spices – go nuts. Allspice, cloves, lemon rind, anise, cinnamon and five-spice powder – whatever.

    Preheat oven to 350°F.

    Grind bread to fine crumbs in a food processor (and don’t bother cleaning it). Spread in a shallow baking pan and toast in middle of oven, stirring once, until golden, about 5 minutes. Leave oven on.

    Cut butter into 1/2-inch pieces, then pulse in a food processor with flour, brown sugar, and salt until it begins to form small lumps. Sprinkle base into a 13- by 9-inch baking pan and press evenly onto bottom. Bake in middle of oven until golden, about 20 minutes.

    One of the things I love about this recipe is that it makes a good, thick layer – no desperately trying to push crumbs into the corners of the pan while the middle gets holes.

    While the shortbread is baking melt butter and keep warm. Peel, quarter, and core apples and thinly slice with the slicer attachment in the food processor. Stir together sugar, spices and flour in a small bowl.

    Sprinkle half of sugar mixture over hot shortbread, then top with apples and sprinkle with remaining sugar mixture. Top with bread crumbs and drizzle butter over them.

    Bake, pressing down on filling with a metal spatula halfway through baking, until apples are very tender and bread crumbs are golden, 50 minutes to 1 hour total. Cool 20 minutes in pan on a rack. It’s important to reach in the oven and press the mixture down – the bread crumbs and butter become one with the apple mixture and don’t flake off when you’re eating one outside, over the winter turnips.

    apple brown veronica

    Appling

    Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

    appling 1One of the great joys of autumn up North is the apple harvest. The “King of the Orchard” is a staple crop here, and the only orchard fruit to bear regularly and abundantly despite spring freezes and cold summer rain. Yesterday my friend Liz and I went to an abandoned homestead on the Douglas Highway on our lunch hour and picked grocery bags of apples: Baldwin, Yellow Transparent, Olive Crab, Winter Greening and a few others that I can’t identify even using “Apples in Maine“. I was picking with the intent of making applesauce so I tried to stay mostly with varieties I could identify. New England was planted all over with cider apples, and they have too much tannin to make a good sauce. Taste the fruit if you’re unfamiliar with the tree – people describe cider apples as “floury” or “dense and dry”. They may not even be particularly sour – it’s the texture that  leads to applesauce with the consistency of library paste. My particular rule of thumb is to only pick from trees within 60 feet of a house. The best “dessert apples”  were  planted where they could be tended and picked with a minimum of effort.

    It was probably our last good picking day for a while – 50 degrees and bright sun with hatches of midges and late mosquitoes swirling around our heads. Then I went home and made applesauce. For this recipe you’ll need a food mill. I have a Villaware and I love it.

    appling 2Wash your apples if you need to. None of these have been sprayed, and they grow at least a quarter mile from any road so a light rinse will do. Halve them and cut out the stem and blossom ends. I halve them only to check for rot or insect damage.

    Leave the skins and seeds for color and flavor. Pile the trimmed fruit into a large pot. Now add the secret ingredient -  2 C of sugar. Adding the sugar now allows it to blend with the finished sauce and, I think, improves the flavor and texture over adding sugar to the finished product. It also increases the liquid content, allowing you to add less water. Then add about 1 C of water mixed with 2 Tbs. lemon juice. Stir to coat the apples. I don’t add any spices at this point, preferring to spice the individual batches as I use them. Put a close fitting lid on the pot and cook at medium high for about 20 minutes, checking periodically to see if you need to add more water.

    appling 4The apples are ready when they’ve “exploded”. Turn off the heat and allow the juices to soak in for about half an hour with the pot still covered.

    appling 5Dump the apple mixture into your food mill in batches. It would be nice to wait long enough for the apples to cool to room temperature, but by this time it’s always 10:30 p.m. and I have to get on with it. By all means wait till you can comfortably handle the fruit if you have that luxury – it won’t do it any harm and you’ll avoid spatter burns. Crank the mixture through the mill. The Villaware produces a nice smooth sauce, ruddy and thick with the processed apple skins, and only about a cup of waste from a whole pot of apples.

    appling 6

    Dish yourself a sample of sauce and congratulate yourself on an efficient use of resources. You can put up the rest by canning, but applesauce is a fairly low acid food and prone to contamination. Consult your Blue Book for details or get yourself some real produce freezer bags from the Agway  and  freeze the sauce in meal size packets.

    appling 7According to Liz, this is pretty good stuff.

    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.

    Our Hardy Ancestors

    Wednesday, September 23rd, 2009
    AGB really is one of my ancestors.

    AGB really is one of my ancestors.

    The other day I got down “The Institute Cookbook” by Helen Cramp, to look for a particular apple jelly recipe that is, I think, in one of my grandmother’s cookbooks. Helen Cramp’s book was published in 1913, and Martha was born at the turn of the century, so it probably belonged to her stepmother. The recipe used maple syrup as the sweetener and I have so many crab apples this year (and almost nothing else) that I thought I’d give it a try.

    The brittle pages are heavily notated. The neat cursive in brown ink is my great grandmother. She wrote long recipes from memory in the blank spots of the book, and commented on additional ingredients (may use 2 Cups of Rhubarb). My grandmother was born left-handed and forced to switch in school. Her cursive is more upright; larger and uneven. She checked off recipes in the index and made notes about doubling or tripling amounts (more Chili, less Marjoram).  She had four children and hired hands to feed.

    The recipes are a testament to their lives. There are paragraphs on making cottage cheese from the time before pasturized milk, and an entire chapter on Meat Substitutes that would have been handy in 1913. Most of my family members still don’t eat tofu. A century ago they ate Baked Crackers with Cheese, Pimento Roast, Nut Souffle and Migas.

    Now, I love migas. I learned to make migas from Milcolores and I have to tell you, they bear no resemblance at all to the migas in the Institute Cookbook. Well, I guess the same philosophy might run through both like an underground river, but I was highly amused by my kinfolk’s version.

    MIGAS

    Soak slices of stale bread and squeeze dry. Put olive oil or drippings in a frying pan and when boiling hot drop in an onion chopped fine, a little groundchili and a pinch of sweet marjoram. Lay the slices of bread in this with plenty of fresh cheese (preferrably goat cheese), finely broken,and fry for about ten minutes (my note – yikes!). Remove to a hot plate; cover with grated cheese, stoned ripe olives and chopped hard-boiled egg.

    I may make a series from the book. Up next: Dried Beans Saute.

    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

    Röschti

    Tuesday, August 25th, 2009

    Röschti is Swiss peasant food; a potato cake as big as your favorite cast iron pan. It is the perfect late summer comfort food, wholesome and nourishing, utilizing the first waxy new potatoes and fresh herbs without ever turning on the oven. Actually, it’s 66 degrees out there at 10:15 p.m. EST so turning on the oven doesn’t sound so bad at the moment.

    I’m going to come right out and tell you, first off, that this is only how I make  Röschti.  Do a little research and you’ll find hundreds of variations – add mushrooms, peppers, sour cream or eggs, serve with scrambled eggs, cook crumbled bacon in the pan to start, boil the potatoes first or not, bake it or steam it – a potato cake by any other name, etc.

    Use the best potatoes you can find. This is a wonderful dish made with Grade A fresh potatoes, and a very mediocre one made with shriveled refugees from the root cellar.

    3 lbs (or thereabout) tasty, waxy, smooth, heavy, lustrous potatoes. You think I’m kidding but I’m not. Today I used Yukon Gold, fresh from the potato bunker and, yes, they met the standard.

    1 stick butter (you might not use all of it, time will tell)

    2 Tbs olive or vegetable oil

    1/4 C fresh herbs (I use flat leaved parsley and chives, but the sky’s the limit here.)

    1/2 C grated  Gruyere or whatever you like. Use more if your potatoes are dry.

    Sea salt, fresh ground pepper

    rosti-prepCut the potatoes into manageable pieces and boil them until JUST tender. Don’t over cook. Cool for four hours or overnight.

    HAH. I know you’re not going to do that, or perhaps I’m reflecting, because I never do. I have a day job. So drain the hot, hot potatoes and use a clean pot holder to hold the pieces against a nice old four sided grater over a plate. Mine is old enough and sharp enough that I get an annual tetanus shot, just for using it.

    This is going to wreck your pot holder, so consider investing in one of those new-fangled silicone items that would just rinse clean instead of getting potato all over the rest of your laundry.

    Grate about 1/3 of the potato and dump it in a bowl.  Add some cheese, herbs, salt and pepper. Alternating the layers makes it easier to mix the ingredients without squashing the delicate potato shavings, like this. Repeat until all the ingredients are together.

    rosti-mixHeat a cast iron or nonstick (eww) skillet with deep sides and add the olive oil, 3 Tbs butter (no fear). Dump the mixture in and press it down with a spatula or potato masher.

    Now, the whole point of  Röschti is the deep gold crust. This is achieved by cooking over a medium low heat for 12 minutes or so per side. Don’t chicken out, and don’t make this dish for company your first time out (long story).  When you think the first side is done, loosen the sides with your spatula. Take a heavy plate just slightly larger than your pan and, using pot holders, flip the  out on to the plate. I like to turn off the burner while I do this (long story).

    Check your crust. Is it brown and crispy? Would it make your Swiss ancestor (we’ve all got one, they got around) proud? If not, don’t worry, you can flip it again after we do the other side.

    Clean the crusty bits out of the pan (you can cheat and place it back on the cake – I won’t tell). Add 2 more Tbs of butter and turn the burner back on. Pick the plate up and slide the cake back down into the pan. Go make salad or something.

    Repeat the above after 12 minutes. If the crust is acceptable on both sides, simply keep it on the plate and serve in wedges. My personal favorite is to serve with a large green salad and Campari and soda all around. And blueberry pie for dessert.

    I meant to get a picture of the finished dish, but by the time I got the camera together, this is what it looked like. Sigh.

    rosti-finish