Kasha Varnishkes Update: Grandma Weighs In

I called up my grandmother Annette the other day to tell her about a beautiful planting at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, and when we got done discussing that, she said, "I've been meaning to tell you, that Kasha Varnishkes recipe isn't good."

"I know!" I said, "I've been reading everyone's commentary on the NYtimes website! It's the egg, isn't it?"

As my grandmother and half of New York wishes to remind Mark Bittman, the traditional way of preparing Kasha includes an extra step--the groats are tossed in a skillet with an egg white before cooking, which supposedly keeps them from turning to mush in the finished product. I didn't use this step in mine, and didn't have any problems, but I was using fairly fresh local kasha from the Blew Family's farm in New Jersey. I wonder if older store shelf kasha is more prone to mushiness.

My grandmother also disclaimed the onion cooking method, saying she'd never heard of anything like it. I found the process, which involves softening the onions in a covered pan for about ten minutes, odd but functional, and the result somewhat pleasingly dry, like the kind of onions you would put in a bialy well. However, in matters like these, I defer to my grandmother's honed Eastern European palate. My only issue with the recipe was the lack of mushrooms, easily remedied. Why would you leave mushrooms out of any dish you could conceivably add them to, especially one where they do so much good?

The other question I forgot to ask was: Did I tell my grandmother about the Kasha? Did she just see it in the Times? Is she reading the blog? Grandma, weigh in. Comments always appreciated.

Cookie Jar

Matt is a firm believer that "dessert is part of a meal". He's usually pretty proactive about procuring said dessert, but since he knows how much pleasure I get out of sweetening his life, he's generously appreciative when I fill the cookie jar.This jar is my new favorite repository for delicious things, from granola to rugelach, because it doesn't hide the goods. Pictured on the bottom of the jar are NY Times chocolate chip cookies (yes, these cookies), with some kasha and cacao nibs thrown in, via the Wednesday Chef. This batch, both before and after a 24 hour rest in the refrigerator, seemed to have a little extra accidental butter, so the cookies were thin and crispy, honeycombed with holes. Matt compared them to Pepperidge Farm Brussels cookies, but mostly they were just themselves, large and lovely.

The top of the jar is filled with these things called Vienna Punch Cookies, from Nick Malagieri's book The Modern Baker. I think these butter cookies sandwiched with chocolate-crumb-jam-kahlua filling are a great idea, but the picture in the book is so enticing because the cookies are sporting a flawless royal-type icing. The recipe given, however, makes a poorly dissolved and lumpy version. Next time I'd make the cookies just the same way but change the icing.

Worries about money combined with the coming of fall have been inciting powerful subconscious urges within me. I want the freezer stocked (corn, blanched beet greens, stock, chicken dumplings, eggplant parmesan, cookie and pie dough), the cupboard full of flour, tomatoes, beans and other staples. I've been poaching quinces, making fruit butters, and stews with a vengeance, and dreaming of freezing whole lasagnes. I do so love being a good provider. Sometimes I overdo it and provide more than anyone can possibly eat, or want to eat, but I am lucky to have good friends and loved ones who take my efforts in stride, come to dinner often, listen to my obsessions, cook for me too, and happily empty any cookie jar I fill. It's a well-documented sign of love (or pathology) to lavish a family with food and hospitality. It's a somewhat underappreciated gift to respond properly to that hospitality, to receive that proffered love and nurturing with gratitude and delight and equal responsiveness. I'm so grateful that my love and my family have good shares of both of these essential talents.