Buttercream Recovery

Eggplant caviar on SCRATCHbread MuTTT loaf.

All the leftover buttercream is discarded or frozen. A few pints of passion fruit curd still linger in the refrigerator, but this week our kitchen's main focus has been grilled meats and fishes, and vegetables. August is high CSA season, and I am trying to keep up. While some kale and lettuce has gone to a smelly, wilted grave, we've been doing our best to make sure that Windflower Farm's hard work doesn't go to waste.

Last year, two of my big pitfalls were beets and eggplant. I let more than a few eggplants wither away in the crisper, and I dealt with the beets by giving them away or by juicing them. This year, I'm back to the juicing for the little red roots, and I'm still trying to develop a taste for eggplant before little back dots of mold appear. It's not that I hate it, I just can't seem to cook it in any way that makes me want to really eat it.

This year's first attempt at eggplant reclaimation was Dorie Greenspan's eggplant 'caviar,' incidentally last week's French Fridays with Dorie pick. It's essentially a spread, made from roasted eggplant mushed up with garlic, oil, lemon, salt, pepper, chile, paprika, herbs, onion, and tomatoes. In that it doesn't taste like eggplant at all, it's pretty much a win. All I tasted was garlic, and Matt, who tried it later, was concerned that he had tried the wrong dish, as it tasted like 'salsa' and appeared to contain peppers.  The more I cook from Around My French Table, the happier I am with it. All of the things I initially disliked--cutesy dishes, very personal tweaks--don't seem to detract from the general solidity and usefulness of the recipes, and sometimes add a little extra that I wouldn't have anticipated. I'm still a little irritated that the book doesn't include weight as well as volume measurements, but maybe in the next edition...

Normal as Blueberry Pie

If there's a better thing than the classic American musical, I may have yet to see it, and I've seen Macchu Picchu, Lake Victoria, Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, and one or two other things. But for a combination of sheer verve, skill, abandon, and riotous desire to make everyone happy, RIGHT NOW, the American musical comedy is it. It has its dark lows too, its broken dreams and bitter underbelly--nothing reaches heights without hitting real bottoms. 


I've spent the better part of my life involved in what may or may not be 'avant-garde' theater. I see any number of quite serious plays, strange in formula and unusual in topic. It's my not-so-well-concealed scrubbed-clean secret that if there's Rogers and Hammerstein playing next door, I'm pushing my way through the caged rabbits or badmitton birdies, the on-set camera wires and the stray architectural models to get there. Give me 'Wonderful Guy,' and I'm good for days. 

I can't dance for anything, and despite a quite decent singing voice I was rarely cast advantageously in school productions (to be honest, I have a long record of specializing in the characters who shout and don't get songs...the boss from Pajama Game all the way through to the mother in Crazy for You). Perhaps my greatest feat was wobbling around on roller skates through the first act of Funny Girl. At least that's the one immortalized in the hallway of my old high school, flapper rig and all. And it was awesome. If anyone offered me part in any musical anywhere, right now, libraries and bakeries could shove it (for a while, anyway). 


As things are, I find other ways to channel my madness, and to glam it up with passion and power (oddly, I've never watched Glee). Mostly, I keep on cooking, for that other kind of pure pleasure that lights up faces when you hand them the chocolate chip cookie. For the rush of hard work as it smells good out of the oven. For the burn of chile heat. And because I'm still kind of Dorie Greenspan's willing slave. 

This week, I did a little Tuesdays with Dorie in the form of some Almond Scones with Dried Cherries, which were perfect in taste, and perhaps just a little loose in texture...I've gotten addicted to stiff scones (that sounds awkward). 

I also did a little French Fridays with Dorie, to the tune of Short Ribs in Red Wine and (no) Port. Yes, despite recent excursions to Lisbon I have no port in the house, and wasn't about to pour out my Ginjinha into the mix. The grocery store was down to one tiny one pound package of short ribs, so I cut the recipe down to approximately one ninth, and made some substitutions. Somehow I got a few wrinkled bulbs of celariac into the vegetable aromatic mixture, but forgot the actual celery that I'd bought for the purpose. The finished dish, in my house, was small and unceremonious, but Matt was a fan. He also suggested that the meat would be great shredded and put into a pita with some yogurt sauce, but as we had so little meat to begin with, we didn't get the chance to go all Greek on its ass. It also made the whole kitchen smell great when it was cooking--the best thing about a braise is the anticipation. And the bones.

I was also very happy with the method, which eschewed a stovetop browning of the meat--always a messy affair, with a few minutes under the broiler before and after the braise. I'm going to see if I can adapt this one to other recipes. 


It was a triumph! A belly laugh! A wild ride! A balaboosta! Applause! 
Excuse me, I have to go watch some more youtube videos of my favorite songs now.

French Fridays with Dorie: Mushroom Soup

Photo by Matt Korahais.

So far, my foray into Around My French Table has been almost uniformly successful (we'll see how I feel when we get to the smoked fish), but this book really shines in the soup chapter. This week's soup, a rich mushroom, was perfect both for eating and for adding to other sauces. I made it even richer by adding Marsala instead of the white wine called for. While I ran out of mushrooms before making the little raw mushroom salad garnish Dorie recommends, it didn't much signify because I hadn't pureed most of the soup (house preference is chewy things in broth, rather than uniform mush). We're still eating it, and it's perfect for a snowy Friday, especially one when Matt's flying away to Paris and I'll be left alone at the end of the night. Still, we're so lucky, and this year is starting out very, very well. Lisbon in two weeks, and for now, there's mushroom soup.

French Fridays with Dorie: December Round-Up

Since it's January, it does seem like a good time to clear the decks on the December cooking from Around My French Table (did everyone remember that I was in that cooking group--I did). Back in November I decided that I wasn't going to let cooking clubs take over my blog quite as aggressively as they have my life, and thus I would only do monthly roundups of my French Fridays with Dorie cooking. Somehow that seems to have translated into losing most of the pictures, so this round-up will be mostly text-based, an overview for the curious.


There were five recipes for the month, of which I made four. The butter-glazed carrots will have to wait, but not too long, if I know the carrot fiend with whom I live.

Sweet and Spicy Cocktail Nuts, page 18 -- Made 'em last night.

Photo by Matt Korahais

An egg white, a little sugar, some spice (more and bolder next time), some salt, and as some people in the blogosphere say, causing me to giggle hysterically every time--"Walla!" You know how Bush mentioned the internets and now they're called that? Yeah, unfortunately it's like that. Voila!

I covered the bowl, ate one, and then went back and uncovered it for another. This may go badly. Also, note the lovely bowl, courtesy of Stacey.

My Go-to Beef Daube, pages 244 and 245 -- I bought beef for you, Dorie, and I never buy beef. I made stew for you, Dorie, and I love making stew. My version was a bit quick and dirty, but it was eaten. Stew rarely goes astray. I found it a little acidic for my palate, which is odd given that I eat unripe fruit and suck lemons. But there you have it.


Leek and Potato Soup, pages 66 and 67 -- My Christmas weekend dinner, breakfast, lunch, snack... Somehow, Matt never got any, nor any chance to photograph. I had it all. I made the basic recipe, garnished it with parmesan croutons (from SCRATCHbread's country parma loaves). Then I added more potatoes, because it was like a delicious warm milk. I think perhaps a potato weight would have been helpful. But then I've been whining about the fact that this book doesn't have weights in general, so chalk me up for a whiner and move on. The soup was great.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Speculoos, pages 406 and 407 - Not my favorites, only in that they were like yet unlike the fiercely spiced, barely sweet gingerbread that I crave. No fault of the cookies themselves, which I had great fun shaping in many shapes. I have a great many cookie cutters and they don't get put through their paces enough.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Looking forward to another month with this book, which is more than the sum of its parts, making these recipes.

French Fridays with Dorie: November Round-Up

Remember French Fridays with Dorie? I'm still cooking from Around My French Table, but I decided that instead of a weekly post it would make more sense for me to do a monthly round-up. The rules of the group are very low-key, and this past month the recipes could be made in any order. I made three of the four selections (and will probably still make the fourth, eventually).

The first recipe of the month, Roast Chicken for Les Paresseux (the lazy folks), was a chicken roasted breast down in a dutch oven, surrounded by root vegetables and garlic. The chicken, which was never turned, rested on a large piece of sourdough, which was meant to absorb all the chicken juices and become crispy and delicious. It was delicious, but because I thoughtlessly put the tough slice crust down, I missed out on the golden bottom, and nearly cracked a tooth trying to chew it all. Still, delicious. Next best was the garlic, and it was all gone pretty quickly.

One of the forum posters mentioned that she had made stock with the chicken carcass right in the roasting pan, a genius idea that yielded a rich, browned stock, which we ate last night with some frozen Udon noodles and pork dumpling filling meatballs.

It seems like we're working our way through the classics first, and nothing is more classic than Pomme Dauphinois. My version used slightly lower-fat dairy products and so was a little juicier than it could have been, more like potatoes floating in the sauce. It was garlicky and good.

The last recipe I made for the month was one of those that looks really good, has great things in it, and never really gets eaten. It just didn't tempt me, somehow, although I was looking forward to it, and I didn't sell it well to the rest of the household.
Maybe another time, Pumpkin Flans with Gorgonzola (it was Chevre) and Walnuts.  Looking forward to next month's recipes, as I continue to dip into the book at my own pleasure.

French Fridays with Dorie: Marie-Helene's Apple Cake, Standard and Rustic

This simple cake, more apples than batter, was the first recipe that I cooked from Around My French Table. Or, should I say, the first recipe in the book that I cooked. It was not until last night that I was finally able to cook from my brand new copy of the book itself (it's giant! it's fun! I love new cookbooks!).

The first time I made the cake, I made it in an 8-inch cake pan rather than the 8-inch springform  recommended, because the bottom to my 7-inch springform has gone missing...anyone seen it? As you can probably see, Matt was not around to photograph the 8-inch pan, so you're stuck with my sorry shot. Both times, I had no issues with the cake sticking to the pan, it pulled easily away from the sides, and as it was somewhat sloppy anyway, I didn't see a problem with the turnout.

When I made it again last night, I halved the recipe and went rustic, cooking it in a preheated small cast-iron skillet.

It was thin and flat, almost like a breakfast pancake, and this time I cooked it longer to get a really crispy brown top.

Both times, the flavor right out of the oven was delicious, warm buttery cake bits and molten apples.

Overnight, the juices from the apples released into the cake, and turned it into something closer to a bread pudding (not a problem in this house).

The flavor profile was what Matt would call 'breakfasty' and I would call 'I'll have some now please.'

I like ice cream for breakfast and fruity things for dessert.

Now that my copy of the book has finally (finally!) come in the mail, I look forward to cooking widely from it.

Happy Birthday Dorie: Brown Sugar Squash and Brussels Sprouts en Papillote

It's possible that Dorie Greenspan has taken over my life. She certainly has a choke-hold on this blog...or her recipes do. (I do cook other things, I swear. I really have to post more variations)

Just the other day Matt very solemnly explained to Liana, that yes, we do what Dorie says to do here in this house. It makes for very good eating.

Today, October 24th, is Ms. Dorie Greenspan's birthday, and because she's given us so much baking and eating pleasure, and because she seems like a lovely person, though I've never met her, I thought I would join a little project that Holly of Phe/MOM/enon put together, a kind of progressive birthday dinner, made entirely of recipes from Around My French Table.

I chose a recipe from the vegetable section, Brown-Sugar Squash and Brussels Sprouts en Papillote.  This simple preparation is chunks of winter squash (I used a potimarron, or red kuri) and Brussels sprouts (and apples, the sleeper ingredient) tossed with some brown sugar and oil and sage and roasted in a tinfoil wrapper until tender. It was sweet and gentle and very well liked in this house, where brussels sprouts are definitely all that.

I was extremely excited about the potimarron, a squash that is supposed to have a flavor like that of chestnuts. (Ok, I was so excited that Matt caught me cradling it in my arms when I realized what it was). The farm stand at the market that I bought it from had it identified, interestingly, as 'Baby's Favorite,' meaning, I think, actual infants, as opposed to one's sweetie. I thought the texture might have done better for soup, but the flavor of the almost translucent squash cubes was excellent. Known for having skin so delicate it can be eaten after roasting, it was also a weeper, and poured copious amounts of liquid when cut, which can just barely be seen in the photo below.

Happy birthday, Dorie. Enjoy the feast.

French Fridays with Dorie: Hachis Parmentier and my Beef Block

AKA post number one million about how much I love DiPaola Turkey Farm.

Hachis Parmentier, the French answer to the English shepherd's or cottage pie. Usually made with boiled (simmered! simmered! shouts John Thorne in my head) beef and sausage and vegetables, and freshly mashed potatoes, but seeing that it's a down-home, peasant dish, I felt free to adapt it to what was in the house.

Perhaps because I wasn't raised cooking it, or because of all the problems inherent in buying 'good' meat, I have issues buying beef. I'd like to say I don't easily eat that high on the food chain, both literal and metaphorical. Beef has a kind of weight that birds just don't seem to in the American food imagination, and it kind of scares me most of the time. I don't like to buy it, though I'll happily eat it if it's served.

In this case, the meats became boneless turkey thighs and turkey sausage (from DiPaola, where else? I love you DiPaola Turkey Farm). The pototoes were recycled from a batch of roasted fingerlings that made it to a Sunday dinner table too late to tempt overloaded appetites. I mashed them up skins and all and made it work. Sprinkled with some mixed cheese, it was just the kind of food that Matt often asks to have in the refrigerator, a heat and eat, hearty dish, that didn't last long.

Everybody in the Pot: FFwD's Vietnamese Blend

 What do you get when you pour almost everything that you like to eat into one pot and slurp? Some would say ramen, and I wouldn't disagree, but almost every cuisine has its version of a hot, restorative, noodle soup, and I happen to think that the Vietnamese do it very well indeed. I've rarely met a pho I couldn't get along with (we won't talk fishballs now), and Dorie Greenspan's pho ga/la sa ga hybrid was no exception. 


Matt doesn't do coconut, so I waited until he was on tour before pouring an entire can of coconut milk into some chicken broth, simmering with aromatics including cilantro, anise, and chiles, and poaching some chicken thighs in the broth. One of the things that can make Southeast Asian cooking difficult is the long ingredient lists--even a 'simple' soup is apt to have ten flavoring elements and fifteen add-ins, but in this case I found that almost all of the flavoring elements have become pantry staples for me, and that the CSA had provided many of the herbs I don't always have on hand, including cilantro and Thai basil. There were glass noodles in the cupboard, and the whole thing just came together remarkably...simply. When it was steaming, I filled a bowl with bean sprouts, chopped basil and cilantro, and sambal oelek, and poured it in.

And continued to do so for lunch and dinner for the next few days. Matt was gone, and Jill, who was staying with me, doesn't eat meat, so I hoarded the whole batch for myself. And slurped and slurped. And will have some more soon. With such a loose and elastic recipe, I found myself unintimidated by the ingredient list, and looking forward to adding, subtracting, trying the variation with curry and lemongrass (which I just found at the farmer's market, hurray!), throwing in some black mushrooms, and making each day's soup a little different.

Presentation, Presentation, Presentation; or My Love Affair with Pie Crust

French Fridays with Dorie marches on (see all those vegetables, Mom & Dad?). It's so early in this challenge that I haven't even started messing with the recipes yet. I made this one straight up, a simple tart crust, a simple quiche filling of dairy, eggs, mustard, pepper. The trick of this tart is all in the presentation, something I rarely give enough to. I can make many delicious things, but when it comes to plating, or arranging them in an aesthetically pleasing way, I'd do better with an assistant. In this recipe, Dorie Greenspan herself acted as my assistant, thoughtfully providing a clear guideline to making this one of the prettiest food items I've ever crafted, wedding cake included.

All I had to do was to cut a bunch of CSA carrots and leeks into matchsticks (they were no match for my newly sharpened knife), steam them for a few minutes (several people also suggested microwaving them, which would have probably worked well), and then arrange them facing in. And just look at that.

Not quite as pretty as the photo in the book, but not far off. And really, really good. Especially the tomato variation pictured on part of tart #2, above. Actually, according to the book, the tomato version is the classic, and the carrot is the variation. Either way, this tart is going to turn up a lot in my kitchen from now on--it's a classy potluck offering, and it was great for lunch. Welcome to the '70s. Or was it the '80s that were the heyday of the quiche?

French Fridays with Dorie: Gougeres

Welcome to this week's edition of: Katya Joins Too Many Baking Groups.

This one is French Fridays with Dorie, where we cook from Dorie Greenspan's shiny new book Around My French Table, and we are making Gougeres, the savory version of cream puffs, made from pate a choux, soft shiny buttery eggy dough. Pate a choux means cabbage dough. Which I suppose is no funnier than pate a popelin, or pate a panterelli, both of which it used to be called. Dorie was with me when I made my first choux pastry, and her formula remains solid. For the cheese addition, I used a blended 4-cheese mix that my grandmother bought on sale and gave to myself, my mother, and my aunt. Yes, that's how we do these things.

Perfect for a smorgasboard dinner of cheese, bread, grapes, and vegetables. Good the next day for breakfast.  Pretty soon, I'm going to come up with some kind of clever gimmick for writing about FFwD, which includes savory as well as sweet dishes, so that all my posts aren't just I came, I saw, I conquered, but for now it's just the update, puffy as the gougeres themselves, to welcome in the fall and new cookery-bookery. Fresh bread is in the oven, apple-quince bundt cake on the counter, and fresh quinces on the table. Life, it is good.