Adapted by Orangette from A New Way to Cook by Sally Schneider
Well, the warm weather has finally fled, and I'm not sick of the cold yet. In fact, fall going into winter seems all new and crisp again - as it does every year. All things cozy make me smile. Smelling the heat on in the morning; wrapping myself in a soft bathrobe after a hot shower; warming my hands on a steaming cup of tea or coffee; wearing my down jacket, so light yet so warm; pulling my gloves out of the drawer for the first time this year.
And today the post in Orangette, one of the food blogs I read regularly (and if you don't, now is the time because it's perfectly delightful), is about roasting pears. Does that sound like the coziest thing you've heard of in a long time? It does to me. In my Poires Belle Hélène recipe, I quote Nigella as saying about pears, "When they're good, they're wonderful, but I am beginning to think Ralph Waldo Emerson was being optimistic when he wrote, 'there are only ten minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat'." I'm sure roasting them will circumvent that problem completely.
While I'm on the subject of pears, in case you have not discovered this fragrant liqueur, let me introduce it to you, Belle de Brillet. It is very beautiful and absolutely delicious. Since it is sweet, I find a little goes a long way. It comes in a beautiful pear-shaped bottle, and if you're looking for a gift to bring to someone on Thanksgiving, this would be a great choice.
Roasted pears, here I come.
Addendum
Nick went to the Williams/Amherst game on Saturday to watch the Ephs trounce the Lord Jeffs and then headed off to party with some friends in Vermont. He swung by the farm on the way home for an early Sunday dinner. Since I keep vanilla sugar in the cupboard, these pears were a snap to make. I did core them - after they were cut in half - with an apple corer held at an angle. I used Bosc pears, and they worked fine in the recipe and were mighty good topped with vanilla ice cream that melted and oozed all around, enhancing the already-present vanilla scent. Leftovers were not up to speed, however, so make what you think you will eat (enough for second helpings if you have company). This recipe is a real keeper - comfort food at its best - as good as baked apples, gingerbread, and bread pudding.
To Serve 4
1 cup granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean
4 medium ripe pears (about 1 ½ lb.), preferably Comice or Bartlett but Bosc work too
2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces
Water
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Place the sugar in a small bowl. With a thin sharp knife, split the vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape out the seeds. Add the seeds to the bowl of sugar. Using your fingers, rub the seeds into the sugar until evenly dispersed. (Discard the spent pod, or bury it in a canister of sugar – soon it’ll have a wonderful fragrance, and you can use it in most any recipe.)
Peel the pears and halve them lengthwise. Core them, but leave the stems intact. Place them cut side up in a large baking dish and drizzle them with the lemon juice. Dust liberally with some of the vanilla sugar. (I used ¼ cup.) Dot with butter. Add 2 tablespoons water to the dish.
Slide the dish into the oven, and bake the pears, basting every ten minutes with the pan juices and turning them once or twice, for 40 minutes to 1 hour, or until they are glazed, cooked through, and very tender. The syrup in the dish will thicken and darken as it cooks, but if it evaporates too quickly – before the pears are ready – add a tablespoon or two more water to the dish as needed.
Serve warm, with ice cream, crème fraîche, yogurt, or a glug of fresh cream.
Note from Molly: I could also imagine serving these as a savory side dish to roasted pork or game, if you used some interesting spices and a light hand with the sugar.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Crème Pâtissière
Adapted from The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child
Cheryl sent over some eclairs this weekend. I tried not to eat mine, but I didn't make it; at least it was worth it. Anyway, it got me to thinking about this recipe, which you can use in eclairs, or profiteroles, or fruit tarts - but fruit tarts are another story. This will keep for 3 to 4 days refrigerated. It may be frozen. Is that the life? French pastry cream in the freezer.
Crème Pâtissière
6 egg yolks
A heavy-bottomed 2-1/2 quart non-reactive saucepan (Because you don't want to scorch the cream in the bottom of the pan, a heavy saucier is good to use because then you don't have a right angle to worry about. I usually use my All Clad stainless 3 quart saucier here, but I just got a Bourgeat copper saucier, and I will try that the next time I make this.)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups hot milk (I don't have to tell you whole milk, do I? It's Julia for heaven's sake.)
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (the good stuff - I use Madagascar Bourbon Pure Vanilla Extract by Nielsen-Massey, which I keep in the refrigerator) and 1 or 2 tablespoons Amaretto or Frangelico*
Place the egg yolks in the saucepan, and gradually whisk in the sugar. Continue whisking until the mixture is thick, pale yellow, and forms a ribbon. Whisk in the flour, then whisk in the hot milk in a thin stream. Stir slowly and continuously over moderately high heat with a whisk until the mixture thickens. If it turns lumpy (this is scary), beat vigorously to smooth it out. Lower the heat, and continue stirring for several minutes to cook the flour and thicken the cream. Keep stirring over low heat until the cream has thickened.
Remove from heat; beat in the butter and the Amaretto or Frangelico. Put into a clean bowl. Film the top of the cream with a 1/2 tablespoon of Amaretto or Frangelico, whichever you are using, to prevent crusting. Chill.
*The original recipe calls for rum, and it certainly can be used here in addition to anything else you would like to flavor this with. I just usually use Amaretto or Frangelico because almond and hazelnut are flavors I favor.
Cheryl sent over some eclairs this weekend. I tried not to eat mine, but I didn't make it; at least it was worth it. Anyway, it got me to thinking about this recipe, which you can use in eclairs, or profiteroles, or fruit tarts - but fruit tarts are another story. This will keep for 3 to 4 days refrigerated. It may be frozen. Is that the life? French pastry cream in the freezer.
Crème Pâtissière
6 egg yolks
A heavy-bottomed 2-1/2 quart non-reactive saucepan (Because you don't want to scorch the cream in the bottom of the pan, a heavy saucier is good to use because then you don't have a right angle to worry about. I usually use my All Clad stainless 3 quart saucier here, but I just got a Bourgeat copper saucier, and I will try that the next time I make this.)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups hot milk (I don't have to tell you whole milk, do I? It's Julia for heaven's sake.)
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (the good stuff - I use Madagascar Bourbon Pure Vanilla Extract by Nielsen-Massey, which I keep in the refrigerator) and 1 or 2 tablespoons Amaretto or Frangelico*
Place the egg yolks in the saucepan, and gradually whisk in the sugar. Continue whisking until the mixture is thick, pale yellow, and forms a ribbon. Whisk in the flour, then whisk in the hot milk in a thin stream. Stir slowly and continuously over moderately high heat with a whisk until the mixture thickens. If it turns lumpy (this is scary), beat vigorously to smooth it out. Lower the heat, and continue stirring for several minutes to cook the flour and thicken the cream. Keep stirring over low heat until the cream has thickened.
Remove from heat; beat in the butter and the Amaretto or Frangelico. Put into a clean bowl. Film the top of the cream with a 1/2 tablespoon of Amaretto or Frangelico, whichever you are using, to prevent crusting. Chill.
*The original recipe calls for rum, and it certainly can be used here in addition to anything else you would like to flavor this with. I just usually use Amaretto or Frangelico because almond and hazelnut are flavors I favor.
Jane's Wild Rice
From Jane
Jane and Clarke were here a few weeks ago to check out NYU. Clarke is a junior in high school now, about to turn 17 (gulp), and it turns out that NYU is his school of choice. I mean it's where he wants to go. For sure. Hard as it is to believe, he's that old (and I'm this old), but it will be great to have him here, so I have all ten of my fingers crossed.
I was in Atlanta when Clarke was born, staying with Carolyn and John and finishing my own degree, and still there five months later on the day he was christened, which also happened to be my birthday as well as Jane's birthday AND father's day. Since Jane was in charge of activities, they were many, varied, and started early in the morning, ending late at night. There was a brunch for company, the christening itself, a father's day lunch for John and Lamar (his first father's day), and then a family birthday dinner for Jane and me. Every meal was great, but the food I remember most was dinner, and it included the following wild rice.
This wild rice is really good. Last summer Dan Tuczinski stopped at the farm for dinner on the way home from his office in Albany. I served this with a rotisseried chicken, a tart green salad, and some of Larry Eckhardt's corn that I got at my wonderful local farm stand on Route 22 in Stephentown, which was leftover from lunch and which I creamed for dinner. For some reason the combination of creamed corn with this wild rice took each to a new level of deliciousness. It was scrumptious. I know I will make them together again.
This wild rice heats heats well in the microwave. It sort of gets a little crunchy or something. But if you are going to be tempted to use leftovers cold as a salad, use olive oil instead of butter. But as it really tastes different, try it both ways to see how you like it. I admit I'm partial to the butter.
This isn't a real recipe; it's more of an explanation of what I think Jane did, and the way I make it now.
Get some wild rice - it doesn't have to be really wild, the cultivated stuff will do. Cook as many servings as you want according to package instructions but use chicken broth instead of water. The grains will get swollen and split. This is okay.
The amounts of the rest of the ingredients, of course, depend on how much wild rice you have made.
Toast a handful (or more) of slivered almonds or pecans cut in half lengthwise. Set aside a handful of golden raisins. (You can really improvise, adding whatever dried fruit appeals to you and what goes with what else you are serving.) Slice three to four scallions on the diagonal.
Melt a lump of butter (best if you are going to serve the rice hot) or a glug of oil (if you want to use leftovers to make a salad) in a frying pan or saucier (which I use). The amount of fat, of course, depends on how much rice you have made).
Sauté a small to medium coarsely chopped onion until it becomes translucent. Add the almonds or pecans, wild rice, and dried fruit. Cook until heated through, sprinkle on the sliced scallions, and serve.
Print recipe.
Jane and Clarke were here a few weeks ago to check out NYU. Clarke is a junior in high school now, about to turn 17 (gulp), and it turns out that NYU is his school of choice. I mean it's where he wants to go. For sure. Hard as it is to believe, he's that old (and I'm this old), but it will be great to have him here, so I have all ten of my fingers crossed.
I was in Atlanta when Clarke was born, staying with Carolyn and John and finishing my own degree, and still there five months later on the day he was christened, which also happened to be my birthday as well as Jane's birthday AND father's day. Since Jane was in charge of activities, they were many, varied, and started early in the morning, ending late at night. There was a brunch for company, the christening itself, a father's day lunch for John and Lamar (his first father's day), and then a family birthday dinner for Jane and me. Every meal was great, but the food I remember most was dinner, and it included the following wild rice.
This wild rice is really good. Last summer Dan Tuczinski stopped at the farm for dinner on the way home from his office in Albany. I served this with a rotisseried chicken, a tart green salad, and some of Larry Eckhardt's corn that I got at my wonderful local farm stand on Route 22 in Stephentown, which was leftover from lunch and which I creamed for dinner. For some reason the combination of creamed corn with this wild rice took each to a new level of deliciousness. It was scrumptious. I know I will make them together again.
This wild rice heats heats well in the microwave. It sort of gets a little crunchy or something. But if you are going to be tempted to use leftovers cold as a salad, use olive oil instead of butter. But as it really tastes different, try it both ways to see how you like it. I admit I'm partial to the butter.
This isn't a real recipe; it's more of an explanation of what I think Jane did, and the way I make it now.
Get some wild rice - it doesn't have to be really wild, the cultivated stuff will do. Cook as many servings as you want according to package instructions but use chicken broth instead of water. The grains will get swollen and split. This is okay.
The amounts of the rest of the ingredients, of course, depend on how much wild rice you have made.
Toast a handful (or more) of slivered almonds or pecans cut in half lengthwise. Set aside a handful of golden raisins. (You can really improvise, adding whatever dried fruit appeals to you and what goes with what else you are serving.) Slice three to four scallions on the diagonal.
Melt a lump of butter (best if you are going to serve the rice hot) or a glug of oil (if you want to use leftovers to make a salad) in a frying pan or saucier (which I use). The amount of fat, of course, depends on how much rice you have made).
Sauté a small to medium coarsely chopped onion until it becomes translucent. Add the almonds or pecans, wild rice, and dried fruit. Cook until heated through, sprinkle on the sliced scallions, and serve.
Print recipe.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Luisa's Pasta with Ricotta
Adapted from The Wednesday Chef
This summer I found myself buying, and cooking, and eating tomatoes. I ate tomatoes till the cows came home - and beyond that. They were just so good and so fragrant and so pretty (the tomatoes, not the cows) that I couldn't stop. One weekend I got to stay at the farm until Monday morning because we had a meeting closer to there than the City, and I had a small trove of tomatoes left. Precious beautiful tomatoes that I knew wouldn't make it to the next weekend. So about 6:00 a.m. I cut them in chunks, and put them in my largest saucier with some Maldon salt and a few glugs of olive oil, and let them simmer while I did my morning stuff. After about 30 minutes - maybe 45 (but I don't think so) - I put them through the smallest holes of my food mill and then froze them in one-cup increments.
But what, you ask, did I do with them then? In one of Luisa's posts, there's a hidden recipe. It's like a little secret waiting to be discovered. Not only does she divulge the wonder of Pasta Setaro, but in the middle of the post, almost as an aside, she slips in her favorite recipe for pasta with tomato sauce and ricotta. And that's what I did with those tomatoes. I got Pastificio F.LLI Setaro in what has turned out to be the shape I like the most, mezze millerighe, delicious ricotta, and did the following. It's really yummy, and my best new recipe of 2007. This with a small arugula salad and a glass of chilled minerally white wine, is a perfect - perfect - combination. And if it's August, and the tomatoes are so ripe they are about to burst through their skins, it is ethereal.
1 cup of chopped tomatoes that have been cooked with olive oil and Maldon salt to taste for 45 minutes if fresh and 20 minutes if canned and put through a food mill. I can't give you a precise measurement for the olive oil because it depends on how many tomatoes you are cooking. But if I cook six fresh tomatoes, I use two glugs so you get the idea.
Make a chiffonade of basil, using two to four leaves. Set aside. Sauté a sliced clove (or two) of garlic in a little olive oil until fragrant and lightly colored. Add the tomatoes and cook until just heated through (because you've already cooked them). Turn off the heat. Add the basil, the add 8 ounces (for two as a main course and four as a starter) of pasta cooked al dente. Toss to coat with sauce and then stir in a couple of dollops of really good fresh ricotta. Add grated cheese if you like. I would use Romano or Grana Padano here instead of Parmigiana Reggiano. But that would be your choice, of course. And I would recommend adding it sparingly because it's the ricotta that shines here. Luisa says it's bliss, and I have to agree.
This summer I found myself buying, and cooking, and eating tomatoes. I ate tomatoes till the cows came home - and beyond that. They were just so good and so fragrant and so pretty (the tomatoes, not the cows) that I couldn't stop. One weekend I got to stay at the farm until Monday morning because we had a meeting closer to there than the City, and I had a small trove of tomatoes left. Precious beautiful tomatoes that I knew wouldn't make it to the next weekend. So about 6:00 a.m. I cut them in chunks, and put them in my largest saucier with some Maldon salt and a few glugs of olive oil, and let them simmer while I did my morning stuff. After about 30 minutes - maybe 45 (but I don't think so) - I put them through the smallest holes of my food mill and then froze them in one-cup increments.
But what, you ask, did I do with them then? In one of Luisa's posts, there's a hidden recipe. It's like a little secret waiting to be discovered. Not only does she divulge the wonder of Pasta Setaro, but in the middle of the post, almost as an aside, she slips in her favorite recipe for pasta with tomato sauce and ricotta. And that's what I did with those tomatoes. I got Pastificio F.LLI Setaro in what has turned out to be the shape I like the most, mezze millerighe, delicious ricotta, and did the following. It's really yummy, and my best new recipe of 2007. This with a small arugula salad and a glass of chilled minerally white wine, is a perfect - perfect - combination. And if it's August, and the tomatoes are so ripe they are about to burst through their skins, it is ethereal.
1 cup of chopped tomatoes that have been cooked with olive oil and Maldon salt to taste for 45 minutes if fresh and 20 minutes if canned and put through a food mill. I can't give you a precise measurement for the olive oil because it depends on how many tomatoes you are cooking. But if I cook six fresh tomatoes, I use two glugs so you get the idea.
Make a chiffonade of basil, using two to four leaves. Set aside. Sauté a sliced clove (or two) of garlic in a little olive oil until fragrant and lightly colored. Add the tomatoes and cook until just heated through (because you've already cooked them). Turn off the heat. Add the basil, the add 8 ounces (for two as a main course and four as a starter) of pasta cooked al dente. Toss to coat with sauce and then stir in a couple of dollops of really good fresh ricotta. Add grated cheese if you like. I would use Romano or Grana Padano here instead of Parmigiana Reggiano. But that would be your choice, of course. And I would recommend adding it sparingly because it's the ricotta that shines here. Luisa says it's bliss, and I have to agree.
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