I'm upstate, and the weather is bleak, but it's really toasty inside. You know "The weather outside is frightful, etc., etc., etc."
I hope you are all done with your planning and are now making Merry and as cozy and comfortable as I am.
I know it's Christmas Eve, and you have today and tomorrow all planned, but as it seems this holiday season will last until January 4, 2009, I'm listing my favorite holiday recipes below.
More than ever, this year it's important to concentrate on the three F's - family, friendship, and food - and not on presents.
God bless and good cheer!
Apple & Endive Salad
Carrot Vichyssoise
Cauliflower Gratin
Crunchy Brussels Sprouts
Crustless Zucchini Quiche
Eve, An Apple Vermouth Cocktail
Jane's Wild Rice
Linzertorte
Potato Gratin Dauphinoise
Poires Belle Hélène
Puree of Butternut Squash
Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage
Sweet Potato Puree
Stuffed Mushrooms
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Hunkar Begendi - Turkish Eggplant Puree
Adapted from The Mediterranean Kitchen by Joyce Goldstein
If you actually know me, you know that I love meatballs. I mean I really LOVE meatballs. When Nick and Katie came for dinner a few weeks ago, Nick peeked into the pan and said, "Oh, meatballs." When I asked him if he liked meatballs, he said "Who doesn't like meatballs?" My feeling exactly.
That night I made one of my favorite dinners, Delia Smith's meatball goulash, using veal for the meatballs. Every single speck of food was eaten - all the goulash, buttered spaetzle, buttered green peas, cucumber salad, vanilla ice cream and raspberries.
And while I'm on the subject of meatballs, there is a restaurant at 60 Greenwich Avenue, Gusto, that Godfrey took us to one night. In addition to actually stocking Plymouth Gin at the bar so you can get a better-than-decent martini, they serve the most delicious meatballs.
They call them Sicilian meatballs (although I think Neapolitan would be a better name), presumably because they have raisins and pine nuts in them. That may sound unappealing, but trust me, they are out of this world - a little hill of eight meatballs bathed in a dark, savory tomato sauce in a shallow white bowl without pasta.
I know in Italy they don't serve meatballs with spaghetti, but I must admit that one night Sharon and I each got our own order of these meatballs and split an order of a very plain pasta to go with them. And a fine dinner it was.
Do go try these meatballs if you're in the area. I'm trying to duplicate them at home and haven't quite gotten it right, so I can use your suggestions. Plus, eating them will make you very happy. And, by the way, if you have any great meatball recipes, please let me know.
Why, oh why, am I carrying on about meatballs anyway? Because this is a recipe for Hunkar Begendi, a delicious eggplant puree that was served at Joyce Goldstein's restaurant, Square One in San Francisco, as a bed for little Turkish meatballs in tomato sauce. So when I started to post this recipe I had meatballs on my mind.
I have made her meatballs but have also served this puree many different ways. It goes well with leg of lamb and is perfect as part of a vegetable plate, especially if you want to serve a vegetarian meal, in which case I have served it with green beans in tomato sauce, Nanny's stuffed mushrooms, cucumber salad with dill strewn over the top, and pita bread.
Unless you totally hate eggplant, including baba ghanoush, you will want to try this recipe. It's really good and a little different.
A tip about eggplants I got from a very early issue of Cook's Illustrated magazine is to check out the bottom of the eggplant. If it's flat, it's a male and has few seeds; if it has an indentation, it's a female and has lots of seeds. I'm not a botanist (I know you didn't think I was a botanist - it's just an expression) so I don't know about the male/female thing (next summer you can ask the guy at the farmer's market), but I do know this trick works. I may not have explained it well, but once you start checking out the bottom of eggplants, you will see what I mean.
3 eggplants about one pound each (obviously not little Japanese ones)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup of bechamel sauce made with the following:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
Do not peel the eggplants. Wash them and prick them in a few places with a fork. Put in a pan, and bake, turning occasionally, until they feel soft. This will take about 45 minutes to one hour depending on your oven and the eggplants. Remove them from the oven, and let cool slightly until you can handle them. Cut them in half, scoop the flesh into a colander to drain for about 15 minutes. Puree the flesh in a food processor.
While the eggplants are cooling, make the bechamel. In a small pan or the microwave, heat the heavy cream until warm. Melt the butter in a pan over low heat. If you happen to have a small windsor pan, now is the time to use it. Add the flour, and cook, stirring for about 4 minutes until well blended. Whisk in the warm cream, and continue to whisk until thick. This should take another 4 minutes. Then add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg.
Mix the eggplant puree, bechamel, and Parmesan cheese in a bowl. Adjust the seasoning, if necessary. You can keep it warm over hot water in a pan or heat in the microwave right before serving.
If you actually know me, you know that I love meatballs. I mean I really LOVE meatballs. When Nick and Katie came for dinner a few weeks ago, Nick peeked into the pan and said, "Oh, meatballs." When I asked him if he liked meatballs, he said "Who doesn't like meatballs?" My feeling exactly.
That night I made one of my favorite dinners, Delia Smith's meatball goulash, using veal for the meatballs. Every single speck of food was eaten - all the goulash, buttered spaetzle, buttered green peas, cucumber salad, vanilla ice cream and raspberries.
And while I'm on the subject of meatballs, there is a restaurant at 60 Greenwich Avenue, Gusto, that Godfrey took us to one night. In addition to actually stocking Plymouth Gin at the bar so you can get a better-than-decent martini, they serve the most delicious meatballs.
They call them Sicilian meatballs (although I think Neapolitan would be a better name), presumably because they have raisins and pine nuts in them. That may sound unappealing, but trust me, they are out of this world - a little hill of eight meatballs bathed in a dark, savory tomato sauce in a shallow white bowl without pasta.
I know in Italy they don't serve meatballs with spaghetti, but I must admit that one night Sharon and I each got our own order of these meatballs and split an order of a very plain pasta to go with them. And a fine dinner it was.
Do go try these meatballs if you're in the area. I'm trying to duplicate them at home and haven't quite gotten it right, so I can use your suggestions. Plus, eating them will make you very happy. And, by the way, if you have any great meatball recipes, please let me know.
Why, oh why, am I carrying on about meatballs anyway? Because this is a recipe for Hunkar Begendi, a delicious eggplant puree that was served at Joyce Goldstein's restaurant, Square One in San Francisco, as a bed for little Turkish meatballs in tomato sauce. So when I started to post this recipe I had meatballs on my mind.
I have made her meatballs but have also served this puree many different ways. It goes well with leg of lamb and is perfect as part of a vegetable plate, especially if you want to serve a vegetarian meal, in which case I have served it with green beans in tomato sauce, Nanny's stuffed mushrooms, cucumber salad with dill strewn over the top, and pita bread.
Unless you totally hate eggplant, including baba ghanoush, you will want to try this recipe. It's really good and a little different.
A tip about eggplants I got from a very early issue of Cook's Illustrated magazine is to check out the bottom of the eggplant. If it's flat, it's a male and has few seeds; if it has an indentation, it's a female and has lots of seeds. I'm not a botanist (I know you didn't think I was a botanist - it's just an expression) so I don't know about the male/female thing (next summer you can ask the guy at the farmer's market), but I do know this trick works. I may not have explained it well, but once you start checking out the bottom of eggplants, you will see what I mean.
3 eggplants about one pound each (obviously not little Japanese ones)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup of bechamel sauce made with the following:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
Do not peel the eggplants. Wash them and prick them in a few places with a fork. Put in a pan, and bake, turning occasionally, until they feel soft. This will take about 45 minutes to one hour depending on your oven and the eggplants. Remove them from the oven, and let cool slightly until you can handle them. Cut them in half, scoop the flesh into a colander to drain for about 15 minutes. Puree the flesh in a food processor.
While the eggplants are cooling, make the bechamel. In a small pan or the microwave, heat the heavy cream until warm. Melt the butter in a pan over low heat. If you happen to have a small windsor pan, now is the time to use it. Add the flour, and cook, stirring for about 4 minutes until well blended. Whisk in the warm cream, and continue to whisk until thick. This should take another 4 minutes. Then add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg.
Mix the eggplant puree, bechamel, and Parmesan cheese in a bowl. Adjust the seasoning, if necessary. You can keep it warm over hot water in a pan or heat in the microwave right before serving.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Cold Meat Loaf
Adapted from The Nantucket Open-House Cookbook by Sarah Leah Chase
Serves 8 to 12 depending on how much other food you have
I have a couple of recipes posted on this blog that I keep thinking about removing because I'm a little embarrassed to admit they are part of my collection.
The first one is this ziti salad. We used to make it at Sea Island at least once each summer when nine to twelve of us were there for a month. It never lasted long because every person going into the refrigerator would sneak a bite from what was left over. I haven't made it since we stopped going to the beach in a group, but if I were having a big summer party at the farm, I would be happy to put it on the picnic table alongside barbecue brisket, roasted beets vinaigrette, tomato salad, and creamed corn. I might substitute penne rigate for the ziti - but then again I might not.
The secret ingredient - and there's no way this recipe would taste the same without it - is G. Washington Brown Bouillon Powder, which is the reason I hate to own up to it. This product is loaded with salt, followed closely by MSG. It's not the kind of product I use for anything else. I don't even use canned broth anymore. If I don't have my own stock, I follow Michael Ruhlman's advice and use water. But now that I've read what The Italian Dish has to say about MSG, I don't feel so bad about holding on to this recipe for the right occasion. If you want to try it, feel free.
The next recipe I hang my head over is this beef stew. It has a can of soup in it. Tomato Soup to be specific. You know, the one with the red and white label; the one no one I know would even think about eating anymore - even if it were in a cup next to a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it - because it contains high fructose corn syrup.
The original beef stew recipe called for Tomato Bisque - also in the red and white can - with little pieces of tomato in it. But it was still a can of soup. I thought it had been discontinued, but Marge wrote to tell me she can get it in her store, so I called Campbell's, and, lo and behold, it has not been discontinued; it's just not stocked in every store. They told me I can get it at some Food Emporiums in NYC.
I now have a can on my desk, and sure enough, no HFCS. True, it's still a can of soup. But at least it isn't Cream of Mushroom!
I don't remember the last time I made this recipe for stew, but it's so handy that I can't quite bring myself to get rid of it. I just keep reminding myself about The Midnight Egg and Other Revivers, an M.F.K. Fisher article published in the May 1978 issue of Bon Appetit describing what she did to comfort herself when she had indulged in food and drink, perhaps in an immoderate way, and needed a little down time. She made that same, ubiquitous tomato soup and drank it from a special little chipped blue speckled pitcher.
This doesn't totally make me feel better because I'm sure the soup M.F.K. Fisher drank, while it did come from a can, didn't have HFCS in it. But if I ever find myself in a position where it's cold outside, I don't have time to cook but I want to eat at home, and I have to come up with something that cooks itself, I might want to get my hands on this recipe.
Here's another recipe I don't make often either, not because I'm embarrassed about it, but because I just don't have the occasion to make it that often. It's for a meatloaf that can be sliced thin and served cold, and it's good to have up your sleeve when you're having a party.
The original recipe called for 2 tablespoons of dried Italian herb blend, which I don't have in the pantry. Personally, I never use dried oregano but substitute marjoram instead, so in this recipe I use marjoram - but a lot less than 2 tablespoons. If you have a particular herb blend you like to use, it would probably work well here.
1-1/2 pounds ground sirloin
1 pound ground veal
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons dried marjoram, crushed between your fingers
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
2-1/2 cups fresh white bread crumbs
2 large eggs
1 cup tomato juice
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
8 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto
8 ounces sliced Provolone cheese
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Mix the ground meats with the onion, garlic, marjoram, parsley, bread crumbs, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Beat the eggs with a little salt, and add to the meat mixture along with the tomato juice.
Shape the mixture into a rectangle 15 inches by 10 inches on a piece of wax paper or parchment paper. Arrange the prosciutto in an even layer over the mixture, leaving an inch on all sides. Cover the prosciutto with the slices of Provolone, continuing to leave an inch on each side.
Starting from the long end, use the paper to roll up the rectangle like a jelly roll, and pat the ends to close them up.
Carefully slide the roll from the paper onto a baking sheet - a half sheet pan works well. Bake in the preheated oven for 55 minutes. Let come to room temperature, wrap in foil, and chill. Use a serrated knife to slice. I usually make 1/2 inch-thick slices, but you can make them a little thinner if you like.
Serves 8 to 12 depending on how much other food you have
I have a couple of recipes posted on this blog that I keep thinking about removing because I'm a little embarrassed to admit they are part of my collection.
The first one is this ziti salad. We used to make it at Sea Island at least once each summer when nine to twelve of us were there for a month. It never lasted long because every person going into the refrigerator would sneak a bite from what was left over. I haven't made it since we stopped going to the beach in a group, but if I were having a big summer party at the farm, I would be happy to put it on the picnic table alongside barbecue brisket, roasted beets vinaigrette, tomato salad, and creamed corn. I might substitute penne rigate for the ziti - but then again I might not.
The secret ingredient - and there's no way this recipe would taste the same without it - is G. Washington Brown Bouillon Powder, which is the reason I hate to own up to it. This product is loaded with salt, followed closely by MSG. It's not the kind of product I use for anything else. I don't even use canned broth anymore. If I don't have my own stock, I follow Michael Ruhlman's advice and use water. But now that I've read what The Italian Dish has to say about MSG, I don't feel so bad about holding on to this recipe for the right occasion. If you want to try it, feel free.
The next recipe I hang my head over is this beef stew. It has a can of soup in it. Tomato Soup to be specific. You know, the one with the red and white label; the one no one I know would even think about eating anymore - even if it were in a cup next to a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it - because it contains high fructose corn syrup.
The original beef stew recipe called for Tomato Bisque - also in the red and white can - with little pieces of tomato in it. But it was still a can of soup. I thought it had been discontinued, but Marge wrote to tell me she can get it in her store, so I called Campbell's, and, lo and behold, it has not been discontinued; it's just not stocked in every store. They told me I can get it at some Food Emporiums in NYC.
I now have a can on my desk, and sure enough, no HFCS. True, it's still a can of soup. But at least it isn't Cream of Mushroom!
I don't remember the last time I made this recipe for stew, but it's so handy that I can't quite bring myself to get rid of it. I just keep reminding myself about The Midnight Egg and Other Revivers, an M.F.K. Fisher article published in the May 1978 issue of Bon Appetit describing what she did to comfort herself when she had indulged in food and drink, perhaps in an immoderate way, and needed a little down time. She made that same, ubiquitous tomato soup and drank it from a special little chipped blue speckled pitcher.
This doesn't totally make me feel better because I'm sure the soup M.F.K. Fisher drank, while it did come from a can, didn't have HFCS in it. But if I ever find myself in a position where it's cold outside, I don't have time to cook but I want to eat at home, and I have to come up with something that cooks itself, I might want to get my hands on this recipe.
Here's another recipe I don't make often either, not because I'm embarrassed about it, but because I just don't have the occasion to make it that often. It's for a meatloaf that can be sliced thin and served cold, and it's good to have up your sleeve when you're having a party.
The original recipe called for 2 tablespoons of dried Italian herb blend, which I don't have in the pantry. Personally, I never use dried oregano but substitute marjoram instead, so in this recipe I use marjoram - but a lot less than 2 tablespoons. If you have a particular herb blend you like to use, it would probably work well here.
1-1/2 pounds ground sirloin
1 pound ground veal
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons dried marjoram, crushed between your fingers
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
2-1/2 cups fresh white bread crumbs
2 large eggs
1 cup tomato juice
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
8 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto
8 ounces sliced Provolone cheese
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Mix the ground meats with the onion, garlic, marjoram, parsley, bread crumbs, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Beat the eggs with a little salt, and add to the meat mixture along with the tomato juice.
Shape the mixture into a rectangle 15 inches by 10 inches on a piece of wax paper or parchment paper. Arrange the prosciutto in an even layer over the mixture, leaving an inch on all sides. Cover the prosciutto with the slices of Provolone, continuing to leave an inch on each side.
Starting from the long end, use the paper to roll up the rectangle like a jelly roll, and pat the ends to close them up.
Carefully slide the roll from the paper onto a baking sheet - a half sheet pan works well. Bake in the preheated oven for 55 minutes. Let come to room temperature, wrap in foil, and chill. Use a serrated knife to slice. I usually make 1/2 inch-thick slices, but you can make them a little thinner if you like.
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