Merry Christmas Ginger Cookie

Call me old-fashioned, but there is nothing like a good ginger cookie at Christmas time.  Maybe its an acquired taste that comes with adulthood, because I don't remember ever stealing the spice/ginger treats off the cookie tray when I was little.  My how things change.  I'm pretty sure it has something to do with a good recipe though, if I am pressed for a reason.  Chewy, spicy, molasses-y (is this a word?)......this never quite described the ginger "snaps" that I remember as a child.  It was a certain cookie from a special lady that changed all of that.

My sister's mother-in-law is responsible.  The story goes that when she was a young bride, her and her girlfriends got together to test recipes and come up with the "ultimate" molasses cookie.  They wanted one that bent when you torqued it.  One that oozed spicy undertones, and had that gooey sweetness from dark molasses.  Try them they did, and finally settled on the perfect one, a molasses crinkle.  Generously, that recipe passed into my sister's hands, and as the professional cookie baker in our family, she has dutifully pumped out dozens of these little darlings at holiday time.  Yes, they are often the first to be grabbed off the tray, and sometimes by the handfuls.

But, Christmas only comes around once a year, and there are those days when you, like me, may need a fix.  In our fair city, I have found two decent replicas.  I even introduced my sister to them in order to get her take on  them.....they passed the test.  One is a fresh baked vegan variety from our local "Dozen" cupcake shop.  The other is a packaged version, found only at a natural foods store, and often not in stock.   Happening on this recipe in the December 2009 issue of Bon Appetit made me think about that cookie testing that happened years ago, and made me wonder if these would compare with the Mrs. Branby's now famous molasses crinkle.  I am happy to report that yes, it does.  Merry Christmas, readers!

Triple Ginger Cookie

2 1/2 cups white whole wheat flour

1/2 cup minced crystallized ginger

2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

3/4 cup butter-softened

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 large egg, room temp

1/4 cup molasses

1 1/2 tsp grated fresh ginger

1 1/2 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/3 cup raw cane sugar (rough estimate)

Preheat oven to 350.  Line 2 baking sheets with parchment.  Combine dry ingredients, including crystallized ginger, in medium bowl.  Using a mixer, add butter.  Beat until creamy and light, about 2 minutes.  Add brown sugar, and beat on medium high about 3 minutes.  Add egg, molasses, and spices, beat to blend.  Add flour mixture in 2 additions, mixing just enough to incorporate.

Roll into balls, 1-2" in diameter, depending on size desired.  Roll in raw sugar and place on parchment sheet, about 2" apart.  Bake until edges are set, but centers are still soft, checking after 10 minutes.  Remove from cookie sheet to cool.

Shagbark Hickory Syrup for Supper

I am a lucky girl.  Arriving home late and hungry tonight, a quick fix simple supper was in order.  Looking in the frig, I happened on ham steak.  This could do the trick.  A quick saute, and a simple glaze was all it would take.  With a little further digging, now in the dark corners of a pantry cupboard, a paper bag contained the makings for a great side dish.  Tiny organic sweet potatoes were there languishing, waiting for me to finally remember having purchased them at one of the last farmer's markets of the season.  Now this would be the perfect supper.  But, to make things even better, I recalled recently receiving a great birthday gift from Indiana:  a big bottle of Shagbark Hickory Syrup.  A fantastic meal plan quickly materialized:  make a ham glaze with the shagbark syrup, and roast up those baby sweets with some rosemary in the oven.  What a lucky, lucky girl.

The Shagbark Syrup deserves a little explanation.  As a school project this year, my students and I collected maple sap and turned it into maple syrup.  The syrup we made was fantastic, and the whole project was a lot of fun.  We all learned a great deal about trees and syrup, and are avid real maple syrup fans!  So, when I read about a couple in Indiana who are making syrup from the bark of a hickory tree, I was very interested.  Turns out, they do not use tree sap, but instead extract flavor from the bark, and then make a syrup from that extract.  According to their website, famous chefs have found great ways to use the stuff, and swear by it's versatility.   Lucky for me, my thoughtful friend found it at an Indianapolis farmer's market, and sent it my way.  Tonight was it's debut.

As for the baby sweets, they came from an organic farmer in Ohio.  These were the last of the season, and of a number of different varieties. He talked me into these odds and ends, describing their versatility and awesome flavor.  So, weeks later,  I scrubbed them up, but kept the skins on, and chunked them into equal sized pieces.  These I coated in olive oil, salt, pepper and rosemary.  They went into a 375 degree oven for about 40 minutes, and came out sweet, toasty and delicious, just as he promised.  A great pairing with the locally smoked, pan fried, shagbark hickory-glazed ham.  A quick, simple supper indeed.

Shagbark Hickory-Glazed Ham Slices


1 Ham Steak - pan fried til golden brown


1 T dijon mustard
2 T apple cider vinegar
3 T shagbark hickory syrup (real maple syrup can be substituted)

Combine glaze ingredients.  Pour over cooked ham slice and allow to cook for 2-3 minutes, turning the ham occasionally to glaze evenly.

A Stuffing Tradition

As Thanksgiving is almost upon us, food traditions reign supreme.  Not many like an "experimental" Thanksgiving feast, with new recipes, variations on the traditional, injections of new flavors or international twists.  Really, not many of us can even imagine substituting some other meat product for the big bird....tofurkey anyone?

Yes, I am usually alone in my desires for twists on the standards.  I torture my family with a new take on cranberry sauce every year.  One year the turkey is brined, the next fried, then rubbed, then stuffed with aromatics, then roasted with a cider glaze.  Seemingly limitless experiments come out of my kitchen this time of year.  I have won over some fans, and chased away others.  Take the year that I roasted several head of fresh garlic and squeezed them into the prized mashed potatoes.  You would have thought I severed a goat's head and served it!  But, alas, once the shock wore off, I heard faint mumblings of satisfaction around the table.  I'm lucky to have pretty good sports in my family, as far as food is concerned.  They indulge me in my experimentation, are willing to try things out, and mostly nod nicely even if the dish is not their favorite edition.

But one thing remains unchanged.  My Grandfather Platt's sweet stuffing.  Papa was German, so I've often  imagined the origins of this recipe grew somewhere in the forested regions of small town Deutchland.  Maybe someone over there, years ago, some distant relative of mine had a sweet tooth and a creative mind.  Maybe they were playing with recipes for a family celebration (I guess not Thanksgiving in Germany!!) and came up with this concoction.  I don't know for sure, but it makes me happy to think so. All I really know is that it is a family food tradition for us, and we don't have too many of those.

As kids, we fought for the bowl of sweet stuffing to make it around the table to us quickly.  Yes, we still had (and liked) traditional sage stuffing, and it sat on our plate right beside the sweet stuffing and the mashed potatoes.  And they all got covered in gravy.  As we grew up and encountered those outside of our family who thought our recipe strange, we held our recipe a bit more dear.  Grandma Platt was the only one in the family who knew how to make it, or so we thought.  As Grandma got older, she bestowed on my mom her tried and true techniques.  Now, you should know, our Proud Irish Grandma did not see anything good about sweet stuffing.  This was not HER family tradition.  But she carried it on for us.  As she dutifully taught the method for making it, she would quip, "keep putting sugar in it... when you think there it far too much sugar in it, put in a little more".   So mom has become the keeper of the recipe.  And, I have to say, her version is even better than Grandma's was.

This year, mom and dad are in Florida for Thanksgiving.  I'm having Thanksgiving at April's Aunt Carol's house.  My sister and her family are busy preparing their own feast.  A few days ago, my sister called.  "Can you make us sweet stuffing?"   Though I have never made it before, I always keep a watchful eye as it is being made, so I decided to give tradition a whirl.  And, I have to say, I think Papa would give it an approving nod.  Grandma would think it was far too sweet.  Mom might add another bit of sugar.  Next we will see how my sister's clan likes it.

I give thanks to all who have sacrificed traditional tastes in the name of some of my experiments, and all who have contributed to the many many Happy Thanksgivings that my family has shared.  Enjoy all of your favorite food traditions, but don't be afraid to give some new recipes a whirl.  You may be glad you did!

Papa Platt's Sweet Stuffing


1 large bowl of stale bread cubes 
( I used 1 large loaf of Mancini's Italian bread, cubed, and lightly toasted)


1 cup of sugar
4 Tablespoons of cinnamon
sprinkle these right over top of the bread cubes


1 stick of butter
2 cups of chicken stock (or water)
heat these together on the stove until butter is melted


Pour half of liquid over the bread cube mixture.  Stir well to incorporate.  Add the rest of the liquid slowly until desired stuffing moistness is reached.  You may not need to add all the liquid, depending on bread volume.  Place in casserole dish, cover with foil, and bake at 350 for 30- 45 minutes.  

The Great Roasted Pumpkin Soup

A simple rule to remember:  roasting vegetables makes magic happen.  Last night, a fantastic vegan brussel sprouts recipe came out of a 30 minute roast with tauntingly carmelized and crispy-edges, but with soft tender middles and ever-so-slightly sweet flesh. When tossed with the maple-balsamic vinaigrette, they were worth their weight in gold.  Now granted, I love brussel sprouts more than most people I know.  In fact, I could make an entire dinner out of a big bowl of brussel sprouts, and pretty much did last night.

But today was the day to apply the roasting principle to my favorite fall soup: pumpkin.  Normally, I reserve eating this autumnal soup for special occasions, namely those that involve a chef preparing it for me.  Not that I haven't tried to match their prowess, but my home versions have fallen short.  With the passing of "birthday" week, I had the good fortune to try two different bowls of pumpkin soup while dining out.  Both were good, and quite different.  My running favorite version is served at Atria's, where a moderate spicy heat cuts through the sweetness of the pumpkin and warms your throat and tummy quite nicely.   However,  it was the second bowl, served at an upscale fish house overlooking downtown Pittsburgh for $11.95 a bowl (gasp!), that convinced me to give it a go one more time.  But this time, I was armed with the roasting weapon.

First, I must confess about the shortcut I used.  You may know that pumpkin is a winter squash, and is interchangeable in this recipe (and many others) with countless varieties of orange-fleshed winter squashes that are still available at local farmer's markets.  Run to one and stock up now!  This recipe demands a fresh squash, and not a can of pumpkin puree (don't worry, it will be worth it!).   As for me, while I have several varieties sitting on my counter, I still found a way to avoid the tricky job of carving those hard squash up into cubes.  While scurrying through the produce department at Trader Joe's, I happened upon already cut cubes of fresh butternut squash in a bag!!  Pounce on these, if you see them..... it makes this version come together so much quicker at the end of a work day.

Roasted Pumpkin Soup


Toss the pre-cut cubes (about 4-5 cups) along with a couple of chunked up onions, a few cloves of garlic, a coating of olive oil and some salt and pepper.  Spread the whole mess out in a layer on a baking sheet, and bake it at 375 degrees for about 30 minutes.  They should be soft and yielding, and starting to brown in a few places. 

Proceed with stovetop steps:


1.  Saute 2 TBSP butter in  a large heavy saucepan, along with 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes, 1.5 tsp curry powder, and a pinch of ground cayenne pepper, for 2 minutes.  Add the roasted squash/ onion/ garlic mixture to the pan and toss.
2.  Pour in 3 cups of chicken stock and 2 cups of milk, and 1/2 tsp salt.  Use your immersion blender (or transfer to traditional blender), and whir till smooth. (adjust consistency as needed by altering amounts)
3.  Back in pan, heat slowly while adding 1/4 cup brown sugar, and 1/4 cup heavy cream.  Taste for seasoning.


Come to think of it, I honestly believe I would have paid $11.95 for a bowl of this and not begrudged it, it's that good.  But herein lies the trade-off:  a mound of dishes in the kitchen :(

Time for Banana Bread

Sometimes you just need to have banana bread.  Often it seems to be linked to a low pressure system parked on top of my house, spreading grayness, along with rainy, cold stretches that seep into your bones and leave you no choice but to wrap up and hibernate.  That's when banana bread comes-a-callin'.  No, not just any banana bread, but the stuff with buttermilk and chocolate chips oozing out when you slice it up.  No fooling around here.

But this takes planning ahead...a few months ahead, in fact.  That's when my bananas slipped their skin.  And I'm not even exaggerating, it really went down just like that.  I woke up one morning and my hanging bunch of bananas (hung sweetly by the sink when first home from the grocery) had slipped their skins, and were laying naked on the counter with their mottled brown clothing still dangling from on high.  I really didn't know bananas were that talented, but I hastily gathered the overripe and overexposed fruit and stuck it in the freezer.  Dreary days lay ahead, I assured myself, and those bananas are likely to come in handy!

Almost every time I get a bunch of bananas, a few end up in this over ripened predicament- though none have ever committed the striptease act before.  But, I dutifully collect the post-ripe gems, bag them and freeze them.  They are easily slipped one by one into smoothies directly from the freezer, but once you have gathered a small collection, and the gray weather bears down on your neighborhood, it's time to try out this recipe.

Buttermilk is a key ingredient here, by the way.  I've taken to keeping buttermilk on my refrigerator shelf at all times, and if I may be bold enough to suggest it, so should you.  That way, every time you whip up pancakes, quick bread, biscuits, mashed potatoes, or marinate chicken, make baked goods, etc, slip it in the recipe in place of milk.  Locally, there is no topping Marburger Dairy's old-fashioned buttermilk, in my experience.  It's the real deal, and you will notice, so keep an eye out for it.

This recipe has been built with all of these favorites, sweetened with carmel-like brown sugar, and has the addition of all-purpose whole wheat flour.  You can use regular flour, but the texture of the whole wheat is a real bonus.

Buttermilk Chocolate Chip Banana Bread

4 very ripe bananas
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp buttermilk
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups brown sugar
2 egg
2 tsp vanilla
pinch of salt
2 -2/3 cups whole wheat, or all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mash bananas, baking soda and buttermilk in bowl, set aside. Blend butter, brown sugar, egg, salt and vanilla in medium bowl. Sift and mix flour with baking powder in another larger bowl.
Add banana and butter mixtures to flour mixture; stir to combine.
Spread batter in two buttered 8 x 4 inch loaf pans. Bake in pre-heated 350 degree oven 50 to 60 minutes or until cooked through. Cool on rack.

A Treat Any Day

After returning from Europe in August, the sights and smells of amazing street food on narrow, crowded, picturesque, busy streets is etched in my memory.  It's hard to replicate that experience in most places around the 'burgh, but I have to admit, I think I've almost done it.  I'm not much of a coffee drinker, preferring tea as my caffeine of choice.  But I have a weakness for bitter chocolate, and something about the combination of expresso and chocolate stabs unmercifully at that weakness, and creates something akin to coffee desire.  Not just any coffee, as it must be deep, rich, flavorful expresso.  La Prima Expresso has got it in spades.  My first sip of their iced moka (they insist on you ordering in Italian), was swoon-worthy.   So, it didn't end there.  I was back within a week, treating my sister.  We sat on the street, sipping our moka's, and nibbling a most delectable pastry.   It was an Almond Mele.  What's a mele, you ask?  Well, it looked  a bit like a turnover.  And though I wouldn't normally order almond anything, this seemed the perfect match for this cup 'o joe.  And oh, it was.


A bit of old Europe, right in the Strip District.  Close your eyes, take a sip, a little nibble, and you are right there.  




"Take a breather with a cup of coffee and a mele, a fruit-filled pastry, at La Prima Espresso Company (205 21st Street; 412-565-7070), where the old men sitting at the outdoor tables look like they’ve been sipping espresso and playing cards for eternity."  http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/07/06/travel/06hours.html 

Take Two: Tomato Soup with a Thai twist

She must have read my mind.  No, I have not had enough tomato soup, yet.  In fact, I'm thinking I could have it every day for the next month, and still be okay about it.  I have to admit, one of the main reasons that I have been writing this blog is a bit selfish.   It's forcing me to write down a recipe.  My problem has always been that I never do that.   Once I make something, it is unlikely to appear on the table again.  At least in the same format.  People have learned not to ask for a favorite dish.  Sometimes I forget how I made it.  Other times, I'll be cooking away and find I'm lacking some crucial ingredient, so I just substitute freely.  But when something really works, I regret not being one to write it down.  This blog is helping with that.  Maybe it is helping you too, to try something new.  I'm waiting to hear from you.  Perhaps you have a jaw-dropping tomato soup recipe up your sleeve.....do you?  Send it along please!  The month ahead is long.

Me?  I'm always ready to try new things.  So, as the cold rain/snow mix is falling here,  I chose to hole up inside, and take time to check out a few favorite food blogs.  Luckily, I stumbled on the Luisa Weiss post, only to find her writing about Tomato Soup!   Off I went, to the stove again.  What could it hurt?  Besides, I do love red curry.  I don't often cook with it, but when I find myself having dinner alone, that's when I like to whip out the trusty red paste, stored deep on a shelf in the refrigerator, waiting to see the light of day again.

She was right.  The soup come together very quickly, and is so easy to make.  It is a completely different taste than the one I posted last week, and well worth a try.  The heat from the curry sits at a different place on the tongue, yet warms up the toes just as well.  Yet another hit on the tomato soup parade.

The Tomato Soup Promise

I promised I would figure out how to make this tomato soup.  One taste, and I was smitten.  Of course, just looking at the picture is enough to capture your heart, isn't it?  Who can resist the setting....a cute little cast iron soup bowl, a fiery red plate, echoing the color of the soup, a top notch belgian tripel beer, and that swirl, that spiraling swirl of cream.  So, that day in August, sitting in a Dutch bruincafe, in Oosthuizen, Netherlands, I issued a challenge to myself.  Make this tomato soup from scratch, and figure out it's secrets.

The Dutch love their tomato soup.  Every sit-down restaurant that we picked had a version of it on the menu, as ubiquitous as French Onion Soup seems to be in the states.  And, to be fair, each version was delicious.  But, this particular one was a personal favorite.  My first thought was to find a great dutch recipe online and try to replicate it.  I failed.  Not one recipe that I found seemed to unlock the secrets of this amazing bowl of soup.  Missing were the elements that would add complexity, and that was essential.  So, I went back to what I know.

I've made scratch tomato soup before.  I use a recipe that I clipped off the back of a package of frozen rolls.  It is easily made, and oh-so-much-better than Campbell's.  But I knew I had to change up the recipe a bit.  After returning from Holland, the first batch I tried involved fresh tomatoes from the garden and roasting.  After filling a cookie sheet with cut up heirloom tomatoes, an onion, and a few cloves of garlic, I tossed it with olive oil, salt and pepper, and let it roast at 4oo degrees for about 40 minutes.  This became the basis of a really great batch of tomato soup.  But alas, the heirlooms were not sustainable, and would not take me into soup season.  What to do?!  Create a modification with canned tomatoes!  And by the way, when putting this together, don't be bashful with the seasonings.  The spices elevate the soup from merely good, to pretty amazing.

When I made this version last week with the toasted pimento cheese spread sandwiches, it was quite a combination.  Though I'd still like to sneak into the bruincafe's kitchen, and gather a few trade secrets, this will do the trick on those chilly autumn days.  However, if you ever find yourself traveling in North Holland, look this place up.  All you need to order is beer, this soup, and the Chevre Chaud Salad (mentioned in our travel blog), and you will be good to go.

Dutch Influenced Tomato Soup


1 diced onion
1 diced celery stalk
1 diced carrot
2 TBSP butter
1/4 tsp ground cloves or several whole cloves (more to taste)
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (more to taste)
2 bay leaves
1  28 oz can whole peeled tomatoes (preferrably San Marzano)
1  14 oz can tomato sauce
2 TBSP brown sugar
2 cups chicken or beef stock
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
handful of fresh basil leaves (can substitute 1 tsp dried basil)
salt and pepper to taste

Saute the first 4 ingredients in a dutch oven till softened, about 5 minutes.  Add cloves, cayenne and bay leaves and stir for one more minute.  Add tomatoes, sugar and stock. Reduce heat to medium low and put on a lid.  Let cook for 20-30 minutes.  Remove bay leaves (and whole cloves).  Transfer to blender and puree, or use immersion blender.  Put back in pot and add milk and cream.  (you can adjust thickness by adding more or less).  Stir in basil leaves, and salt and pepper to taste.

Yummy Pimento Cheese Spread

Did you find yourself a peck of fresh red peppers at the farm market last weekend?    I hope you did!  Such a deal, I found a peck for five dollars, with each one more perfect than the next.  So, I'm betting that you roasted and marinated them when you got home, using last week's post.  Possibly by now, you are tired of eating them on bread with parmesan cheese, but have some leftover (is this really possible??).  But, if so, here is what you want to do now.....

Travel down south and you'll find that they love their pimento cheese spread, while  we in the north really know nothing of it.  But having been a southerner for one year of my life (grad school at N.C. State ), I'm in tune with southern cuisine.  My ears perk up when I hear favorite dishes being mentioned.  I have unusual cravings from time to time.  And quite often, my homemade iced tea gets an extra jolt of sugar for the "sweet tea" lover in me.  But, I have never had pimento cheese spread.  It was time for this to change.  And, my leftover marinated red peppers (after making and canning 7 jars this weekend), gave me a great idea!  They are  surprisingly pimento-like.  Actually, they are so much better.

The big bonus, and this really is a big bonus now that we are hitting soup season around here, is that the spread makes a lovely toasted cheese sandwich.  Imagine the joy of a piping hot pot of tomato soup alongside this vision of loveliness.  (While you're imagining, I'm going to run over to the stove, as it is rainy, gray, cold and windy here!)  And the spread recipe makes enough for quite a few sandwiches, so invite a few people over to help you enjoy it.  But, fair warning, you may want to wait for the tomato soup post next week.

Gussied-Up Southern-Style Pimento Cheese Spread


8 ounces extra sharp white cheddar cheese - grated
8 ounces sharp orange cheddar cheese - grated
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3/4 cup marinated roasted red peppers (or pimentos)
1/2 tsp celery salt
1 or 2 dill pickles - chopped up


Pulse together in food processor lightly, to retain identity of ingredients.  Smear on your favorite sandwich bread for toasted cheese, or serve with crackers, raw veggies, baguette slices, etc.

P. S.  Want to know a great tip?  When making grilled cheese (or any other grilled sandwich), a light and quick coat of mayo on the surface of the side of the bread to be grilled will give you perfect results, and is MUCH easier than butter to handle.  Just be sure to be skimpy with it.

Roasting and Marinating Red Peppers

The very first time that I ever had home-roasted red peppers, we were at my aunt's house. She had set out a small bowl of them before dinner, with some italian bread. Being famished, we dug into it, and were immediately taken aback. "What are these?", "OMG!", "How did you make these?", were the things I remember uttering between bites. She patiently explained the process, but also gave the disclaimer, "they can be a bit tedious".

Hmmmmmm......tedious and I don't usually get along too well. But these, maybe these would be worth it.

I mean, aside from the fact that red bell peppers made it to the "World's Healthiest Food" listing, they are both delicious and useful in a whole bunch of ways. I'm actually a big fan of raw red pepper slices (especially when dipped into a curried veggie dip). But, I would have to say that my favorite way to eat bell peppers by far, is now by roasting them.

And they are so worth it. Although I don't get around to making it very often, this time of year it is hard to resist. A quick visit to any farmer's market finds large, heavy, deep scarlet bell peppers in abundance, and I think, "take them home and DO IT!" If you find yourself in a similar situation, take some time out of your busy day to make these. You won't be sorry.

To start out, you need to blister and roast the peppers under high heat....a grill or broiler. I usually throw mine on the grill when I have other things being cooked. You can virtually forget about them, and just remember to run out and turn them occcasionally, till all sides char up to a blackened state (about 20-30 minutes). Once the peppers have softened, and it is sufficiently darkened, rush it into a bowl and put a quick lid on it. Then, go ahead and eat your dinner (you know, the one you had put on the grill with the peppers). After dinner, the peppers should be cool enough to handle.

So far, pretty easy huh? But this is the tedious part. Carefully peel off blackened skin and discard, as well as the stem and core of the pepper, and the seeds and white membranes inside. But, you need to do this while hovering overtop of the bowl, so that you can catch all of the drips of the sweet pepper juice....this forms the base of your marinade.

Once you have accomplished this part, you are home free. Now slice up the fleshy soft parts of the pepper that remain. Mix them right into the pepper juice with some a couple of glugs of good olive oil (the cloudier and greener the better!). Sprinkle a high quality balsamic vinegar into the mix, and season with tiny amounts of salt and fresh cracked black pepper.

And for the very important last step, eat it, by spooning it onto crusty italian bread with a shard of well aged italian cheese (parmigiano reggianno, pecorino romano, asiago, etc). You can also keep it under a layer of olive oil in the fridge for about 10 days, but it probably won't last that long. And right after I took this picture?

I ate it.

The End of Peaches

Hear ye, hear ye, the end of peach season is upon us. From the fertile fields of Pennsylvania, the luscious, unctious, ought-be-illegal-it's-so-good, crop of 2009 has just dropped. Time is ticking. If you see PA peaches still at your favorite farm market, scoop them up. Quickly. Like we just did. Thanks to the raid on our local grower, we found ourselves with a half bushel of beautiful blushing gems. The plan: Home Canned Vanilla Peaches.

By the way, we have two peach trees growing here, planted by us. Neither seems particularly happy. Peaches appear from the blossoms in late spring, and start to swell, almost teasing us. We have not treated the trees, and it shows. This year, one peach got very near eating size, and to protect it from birds and insects, I cut a piece of nylon stocking and wrapped it as it hung gracefully from a branch. Sadly, the raccoon that lives nearby has been endowed with opposable thumbs, and made quick work of the carefully wrapped snack. So this year, no homegrown peaches for us. Maybe next year will be better. We have a lot to learn.

And that would include canning. I am a rookie canner, and will likely stay that way. You see, I see canning as a large scale operation. I fail to see how a lone person could accomplish all of the vagaries of the canning process by themselves. If you locked me in the kitchen and put the task in front of me, you might still find me there three days later, up to my eyeballs in peels and lids. So, when two friends eagerly volunteered to join in the peach party, it was great news.

I'm also of the mind that with all of the work involved in home canning, I'll stick to the value-added product. Something pickled, or herbed, or complex in some exotic way. Something you wouldn't mind paying a little more for, if you could find it in the local high end grocery. That's how I decided on Vanilla Peaches. The idea is to put a sliced vanilla bean inside the jar with the peaches and sugar solution, then process it. The infusion of sweet, heady vanilla into those gorgeous peaches is already haunting me. The three of us spent a good deal of sweat equity, a small fortune in vanilla beans, and netted 20 quarts of love.

Now, the hard part. How to keep our hands OFF the peaches until winter arrives, and the taste of peaches has long been gone.......so that we can truly appreciate the investment spent. Don't be surprised if we hoard them a bit, and instead serve up some fine Del Monte product when you visit. I'm sure you would understand. But, to guarantee a jar of your own, do you want to sign up for the canning party next year?

Home Canned Vanilla Peaches

16 Pennsylvania grown freestone peaches

6 cups water

3 1/2 cups sugar

2 vanilla beans

2 lemons

4 wide-mouthed, quart jars/lids/rings

1. Sterilize Jars, Lids, Rings.

2. Mix together water and sugar and bring to a boil for 1 minute. Cool slightly. Put into a pourable container.

3. Squeeze the juice of 1/2 of Lemon into each quart jar.

4. Cut vanilla beans in half. Then make slit vertically to expose seeds. Place one half into each jar.

5. Blanch peaches in boiling water for 1 minute, place in cold water bath. Cut in half, peel, remove pit and all parts of red fibrous core. Stack peach halves into jar, packing well. Stop when you are within an inch of the top.

6. Fill jars to within 1/2 inch with the sugar solution. Run a knife inside the jar to loosen air pockets.

7. Dip clean towel into boiling water and wipe the lip of the jar. Place lid and ring on jar and finger tighten.

8. Process in boiling water bath for 30 minutes. Cool, then check seal. Refrigerate those that do not seal properly.

The Infamous Pickled Beet

Since this blog's origin as "The Pickled Beet", I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the beet crop, followed by the pickling of that crop. Luckily, its been a great year for beets in my garden. In my haste, I rushed out and pulled them all up in one day, and called my mom. Help!!!

My love for pickled beets can be attributed to my grandma. Oh yes, I do like beets in all sorts of different preparations, even just freshly cooked with a tab of butter, salt and pepper. However, my heart belongs to the pickled variety. When Easter rolls around, pickled beets and eggs are a requirement in my book. Grandma and I used to make them together, with her telling me what to add in between lots of story telling and laughing, tasting and adjusting our handiwork, and then sitting down to enjoy them at the table. Not everyone in the family agreed with our refined tastes, but mom, grandma and I loved them.

Her method involved canned beets. She used their juice to form the base of our pickling liquid, which was a pretty straight up concoction of sugar, vinegar and the canned beet juice. She always said to add the eggs just a few hours before serving. "Otherwise, they get like rubber", she would explain.

I love them her way, really I do. But, one day at the now defunct Ye Olde Silver Fox restaurant, I was served their homemade pickled beets on my salad. They were good. Really good. Sweet and tart, yes, but also hints of spice. So, I have set out to improve on grandma's recipe. This year, I started with fresh garden beets, roasted in their skins. Then a brine, bringing together not just sugar and vinegar, but herbs and spices, and a touch of lemon. Yes, I'm changing her recipe. But I really don't think she'd mind. She was always up for new things, and her spirit of adventure lives on in all of us.

I wish grandma were here to share in the bounty this year. My mom and I spent 2 fun days on the this batch. The first day picking, washing, trimming, and roasting the beets, then mixing up the brine. Day two was devoted to canning. All told, we ended up with 12 pint jars of pickled beets, to open up slowly through the winter. We will save a precious few jars for around Easter time, when memories of times with grandma will be shared as we sit down together and dig in.

Grandma's Slightly Modified Pickled Beets

10-12 medium sized beets

2 cups water

2 cups sugar

2 cups vinegar

1 tsp ground cloves

1 tsp allspice

1 tsp cinnamon

Bay Leaf

Lemon Peel strips from 1/2 of Lemon

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1. Place clean beets in baking pan, covered with foil. Bake at 375, for at least an hour, until beets are fork tender.

2. Mix together remaining ingredients in saucepan. Bring to boil. Allow to boil for 15 minutes.

3. Once beets have cooled enough to handle, peel. Cut into slices or cubes and pack into clean and sterile canning jars.

4. Ladle in hot pickling juice. Leave 1/4" of head space. Seal.

5. Place in boiling water bath for 30 minutes.

A Girl and Some Figs

Figs are sexy. At least, that is what I've been led to believe. They are also rather hard to come by. Feeling rather deprived, I can say that I had never tasted a fresh fig. Until last week, that is. Thats when I came across a whole carton of fresh figs for a tidy sum. Sold! You may be thinking that for a fig rookie, thats a pretty big risk. But, I had armed myself for this occasion, and I was ready to dive into them.

I grew up with a tainted view of figs, etched by Fig Newtons. This was the cookie of choice available at my paternal grandmother's house when I visited. I can't say that I didn't eat them, but they didn't compare well to, lets say, Oreo's or Chips Ahoy. And that's not even judging them beside homemade chocolate chip! I mean, they were figs. That's barely different than prunes to a young mind. So, that image carried well into adulthood. Until one day, an Italian friend waxed eloquently about this favorite fruit, just as the fig harvest was in full swing. I was enchanted. It sounded way more interesting than the fig newtons I'd grown up with.

That's why I ended up buying a fig tree at a spring garden market a couple of years ago, and with it came high hopes for a fig-filled future. So I started collecting recipes. I wanted to be prepared when the harvest rolled in. Instead, after surviving one growing season, it curled up and died after a failed hibernation attempt. You see, since figs are rather tropical, so they cannot survive a typical Pennsylvania winter without major intervention. I'd heard the stories of Italian gardeners digging large trenches to bend over the tree and thus bury the branches, but I was assured that you could overwinter it successfully in a cold garage or barn just as well. No such luck for me though. So, the recipes remained untouched. Until now.......

With 24 figs staring me down, I had to make a decision quickly. The flatbread with fig spread, blue cheese and prosciutto was the hands down choice on this day. If truth be told, I'm not a huge fan of uncooked prosciutto, but I'm glad I pushed past that hesitation. Because baked on top of this flatbread, it takes on the character of tender, tasty, crispy bacon, and becomes the high note to the sweet, jammy, figgy bottom layer. And the blue cheese? Divine............

Flatbread with Fig Spread, Blue Cheese and Prosciutto

(adapted from http://www.latimes.com/la-fo-figrec24-2sep24,0,3754661.story)

1 pound fresh Black Mission figs (about 20)
1/2 cup port wine
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary or 1 tsp dried
3 tablespoons minced shallots
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 slices prosciutto
6 (6-inch) flatbread - (can use Naan, or pita)
4 ounces (1 cup) mild blue cheese or goat cheese, crumbled

1. Remove the stems from the figs, then cut the figs into quarters. Place in a 9-by-12-inch glass baking dish. Combine the port wine, balsamic vinegar, brown sugar, rosemary, shallots and salt. Pour over the figs and roast in a 375-degree for 30 minutes, stirring several times. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool slightly.

2. Cut the prosciutto horizontally into half-inch strips.

3. Place the fig mixture in a food processor and pulse 4 or 5 times to break up the figs. The mixture will resemble a thick marmalade.

4. Spread about one-fourth cup fig mixture on each flatbread to within half an inch of the edge. Sprinkle the cheese on top of the jam, evenly dividing it between the 6 pizzas, then drape the prosciutto slices on top.

5. Bake until the cheese has melted and the flatbread is crisp, about 5 to 7 minutes. Slice and serve warm or at room temperature.

Dutch Treat

Having just returned from visiting Belgium and the Netherlands, my mind is on all of the different kinds of foods that we enjoyed along the way. There are some cross overs in the two cuisines, but the Belgians are known as the better cooks. Too bad we didn't get as many meals there.

While in Belgium, we enjoyed beer (duh!), liege waffles (to die for!), escargot (weird street food!), mussels (we wanted more!), chocolate (wow!), flemish stew, and of course, pomme frites...the classic twice-fried potato.

In the Netherlands, the list included lots of cheese (edam and gouda in various age categories), broodje's (dutch sandwiches), poffertjes (little pancakes), hagelslag (chocolate jimmies on bread), stroopwafel (caramel filled waffle cookie), loempia (vietnamese eggroll), turkish pizza (spicy tomato based pita wrap), kip sate' (chicken with peanut sauce), grass eel (actually pretty good), lots of fried fish (really fresh), oh, and I almost forgot, frites and mayo.

Frites and Mayo. Does that sound like something you want to dig into? For the average Pittsburgher, we would answer no, give me some Heinz ketchup please! In fact, I remember when someone once told me they enjoyed their french fries with mayo. With horror, I asked, but why??? However, I have grown wiser since then. And this little dutch treat is not-to-be-missed. And we didn't miss it. Ever. In fact, we only were able to count one day, ONE DAY, that we didn't have frites and mayo. What I discovered in all of my sampling is that dutch mayonnaise is very different from our Hellman's, and it is quite lovely when draped over frites.

As we were shopping for take souvenirs, we were happy to find frite saus in the grocery store. We packed several bottles into our suitcases to take home and enjoy later. This got me to thinking, how do you make this stuff, and can it be replicated at home? After doing ALOT of digging, it doesn't seem like an easy thing to do. If you know differently, let me know! When the dutch need frite saus, they all go to the store. When Americans crave it, they go to the internet and order it. It even comes in giant tubs, just like at the frites stands!

But alas, I will offer something somewhat similar (or maybe even better?), that is a pretty good alternative. It also happens to make a great tomato sandwich, and after all, it is high tomato season here is Western PA. I might even make one myself today, if I can find a decent tomato in the midst of the blight that has struck my garden.

Basil Mayonnaise

1 cup good quality mayonnaise (no low fat here!)

nice handful of fresh basil leaves- chopped finely

1 tsp garlic paste (or 1 minced clove mixed with 1 tsp kosher salt)

1 tsp fresh lemon juice

1 TBSP high quality olive oil

Stir together. Dip your frites. Or smear on high quality italian or semolina bread and stack with heirloom tomatoes, for a fantastic tomato sandwich.

Salad Nicoise and other adventures....

Although I have heard of Salad Nicoise, I can honestly say that I've never had it. Maybe I've never even seen it on a menu, though that seems unlikely. Perhaps the real truth would be that I've just brushed over it, discounted it. I do know that I have never had the desire to make it, thats for sure. But something changed this week, with the everflowing fountain of green beans, and the salad beckoned. So, I heeded the call.

Looking for inspiration, I perused many different variations, and settled for Tyler Florence's version, but with my own tweaks. This salad is definitely more than just a sum of it's parts, though it's parts are pretty tasty. But it is the synergy that occurs between the fresh, crispy, briny and savory intermingling that is the shining star.

I dug the red potatoes from the garden (what fun! kinda like a treasure hunt!) Then, I overcooked them ...gasp.... The green beans, red onions, grape tomatoes, and (hidden) lettuce, were also homegrown. The only problem is, when you put together a fresh veggie salad, and top it off with tuna and anchovies, there aren't many people that you can invite to dinner. My family is filled with tuna-haters. I can slip anchovies past them, but only if they are macerated into oblivion.

Anyway, you have to admit, even if you fit into one of the categories listed above, that it makes a pretty salad. And you'll have to take my word for it that it's a pretty tasty one at that.

Now, on to the adventure..... This weekend marks the beginning of our vacation to Europe, namely Belgium and the Netherlands. I'm looking forward to seeing and doing lots of things, but the food list definitely includes the holy trinity of travel to this part of the world: Beer, Cheese, and Chocolate. Oh, add to that, mussels (moules) and fries (frites). You can check out our travel blog over the upcoming few weeks, and hopefully see it unfold. Tot Ziens!!

Green Bean Machine

Yes, I've been overtaken by green beans. And purple romano beans, that magically turn green when you cook them. I planted too many. Or they did too well. In any case, the first patch has me overwhelmed, but what I didn't tell you is that the 2nd patch is just coming into its glory. It was a bit behind, which I was thankful for, but it has now started production.

I didn't always like fresh green beans. I had trouble with the fuzz. This seems like a strange concept to me now, as I don't even notice it. But back when I was used to eating canned green beans, those strangely smooth, almost waxy, salty, squeaky nubs that are not quite green, and probably not much "bean", I snubbed my nose at the fresh ones. Processed food has a way of robbing us of our ability to appreciate the real stuff. Our palates get paralyzed by all of the added stabilizers, preservatives, and ultra-cooking that fundamentally changes the original food. And we don't even know it. So, it takes some re-training, almost re-programming, the taste buds to get back on track. Actually enjoying the texture of the real stuff is the happy result. Just don't make the mistake of overcooking your veggies (hi mom!), or you risk losing all that you just worked for.

As my green beans pile up, I am after new ways to prepare them. You see, I have a bad habit of getting bored with the same old/same ol'. Maybe this year I will master a Szechuan-style preparation, but I confess, I haven't yet given it a whirl, so I better wait to share that. What I want to tell you about though, is what to do with the first batch of freshly picked green beans that you come across. I promise, you will not be disappointed with this, if you decide to give it a go. In fact, you may want to run to the nearest farm stand (or my house) and grab up some green beans right now.

Caesar Aioli with Fresh Steamed Green Beans

1 cup mayo (feel free to use low fat, if that's your thing, but not no-fat)

1/2 cup parmesan cheese

2 anchovy fillets, or 1 tsp of anchovy paste

juice of 1 lemon

1 tsp dijon mustard

1 minced garlic clove, or 1 tsp of garlic paste (do not used jarred garlic, please)

1 tsp worcestershire sauce

handful of parsley (optional)

Throw all ingredients in a food processor, and let it whir. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow flavors to blend.

Prepare the green beans:

First, trim off the stem end. Set some well-salted water on to boil. Give the beans a few minutes in the pot, being sure they stay bright green. (5 minutes max), follow this with a quick chill down, under cold running water. At this point, you can refrigerate, or serve immediately.

So, what you want to do when you are ready to eat them, is drag those slightly cooked, chilled, little fuzzy green beans right through the aioli, and then chomp 'em up. I swear, you won't miss the canned version.