Have I mentioned that we have too much stuff in this house? And that one chunk of that too much stuff is a rambling recipe collection?
This weekend, I took a stab at winnowing that down. I lugged into the family room a stack of roughly 40 dog-eared cooking magazines, all published in fall or winter months, and proceeded to go through and rip out every recipe that either Will or I had ever flagged.
Some of them I had cooked before -- they had tell-tale sauce splatters or coffee rings on the pages -- but never bothered to copy down. Some of them it's doubtful whether I'll ever cook them, like a braciole or salt-baked fish, but I have dreams.
Then there are those that I know it's redundant to clip: How many recipes for molten chocolate cakes do I really need? Still, I rip them out, because this one uses instant coffee powder (oh, is that what that new Starbucks stuff is for?) and that one has cherry topping and still another has an amaretto filling. And some things I can't say no to, like anything with peppermint.
Now I have a 5-inch stack of fall and winter recipes to sort through. When I consider that once I had a 5-foot stack of cooking magazines, well, I'm making progress.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Fall favorites
Mmm. Molasses cookies.
One of my favorite things about fall is cooking with warmer spices, like cloves and cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice. One of my favorite things to make with them is molasses cookies.
To some extent, I am on a quest for the perfect molasses cookie. My freshman year of college, I had a roommate who worked with a woman who made wonderful molasses cookies, soft and chewy with just enough spice to enhance the cookie without overwhelming it. Rumor has it said roommate has the recipe, hidden somewhere in her own overflowing recipe file. If it turns up, well, I'm hoping to get my hands on it, but in the meantime I've got plenty of recipes to test.
This recipe for Sugar-Topped Molasses Spice Cookies comes from Bon Appetit, Nov. 2006.
In a bowl, whisk together 2 1/3 c. flour, 2 tsp. baking soda, 1/2 tsp. salt, 2 tsp. ginger, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, 1/4 tsp allspice and a very small pinch of coarsely ground pepper.
Then in my trusty electric mixer, I beat 12 tablespoons room temperature butter until smooth, then creamed in 1/2 c. of molasses and 1 c. of light brown sugar. When it was blended, I beat in an egg and scraped down the sides:
Next, I gently added the flour mixture on low, low speed. Adding flour to doughs and batters always makes me yearn for my mother's mixer, or rather, the pouring shield on her mixer. It's just a big plastic ring, with a sort of funnel on one side, but it keeps all the flour from foofing out when you try to mix it in. I have a pouring shield, but sometime between the late '70s and the late '90s, some idiot decided it would be better if the shield came in two pieces. I think the idea was to make it easier to add ingredients, but it actually means the shield doesn't fit correctly and if you're not careful, it will fall into the batter. So now I rarely use the darn thing and just add flour very, very slowly.
When the flour and spices are just mixed in, the dough will be very soft and smooth. The next step was to divide it into two pieces, wrap each with plastic wrap, and chill for at least an hour. Then I let the kids lick the dough off the beater.
After an hour (or more), I took out the smaller of the two hunks of dough. I preheat an oven to 350 degrees and lined a baking sheet with foil. Then I rolled small pieces of dough into balls and rolled those in a bowl of sugar.
Once I had a dozen balls of dough placed on the baking sheet, I flattened them with a juice glass. They didn't look very sugar-topped anymore, so I sprinkled some more sugar on them.
These were supposed to bake for 12 to 14 minutes; since I like my cookies on the chewy side I went for the minimum. They came out a little crunchy on outside and a little chewy on the inside.
THE VERDICT: Not quite as chewy as I was hoping for, but not bad. That pinch of ground pepper adds a unexpected pfefferkuchen-like kick. Will and Keith enjoyed them, assuring me that I make a mean molasses spice cookie. These would go great with some vanilla ice cream. A keeper.
One of my favorite things about fall is cooking with warmer spices, like cloves and cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice. One of my favorite things to make with them is molasses cookies.
To some extent, I am on a quest for the perfect molasses cookie. My freshman year of college, I had a roommate who worked with a woman who made wonderful molasses cookies, soft and chewy with just enough spice to enhance the cookie without overwhelming it. Rumor has it said roommate has the recipe, hidden somewhere in her own overflowing recipe file. If it turns up, well, I'm hoping to get my hands on it, but in the meantime I've got plenty of recipes to test.
This recipe for Sugar-Topped Molasses Spice Cookies comes from Bon Appetit, Nov. 2006.
In a bowl, whisk together 2 1/3 c. flour, 2 tsp. baking soda, 1/2 tsp. salt, 2 tsp. ginger, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, 1/4 tsp allspice and a very small pinch of coarsely ground pepper.
Then in my trusty electric mixer, I beat 12 tablespoons room temperature butter until smooth, then creamed in 1/2 c. of molasses and 1 c. of light brown sugar. When it was blended, I beat in an egg and scraped down the sides:
Next, I gently added the flour mixture on low, low speed. Adding flour to doughs and batters always makes me yearn for my mother's mixer, or rather, the pouring shield on her mixer. It's just a big plastic ring, with a sort of funnel on one side, but it keeps all the flour from foofing out when you try to mix it in. I have a pouring shield, but sometime between the late '70s and the late '90s, some idiot decided it would be better if the shield came in two pieces. I think the idea was to make it easier to add ingredients, but it actually means the shield doesn't fit correctly and if you're not careful, it will fall into the batter. So now I rarely use the darn thing and just add flour very, very slowly.When the flour and spices are just mixed in, the dough will be very soft and smooth. The next step was to divide it into two pieces, wrap each with plastic wrap, and chill for at least an hour. Then I let the kids lick the dough off the beater.
After an hour (or more), I took out the smaller of the two hunks of dough. I preheat an oven to 350 degrees and lined a baking sheet with foil. Then I rolled small pieces of dough into balls and rolled those in a bowl of sugar.Once I had a dozen balls of dough placed on the baking sheet, I flattened them with a juice glass. They didn't look very sugar-topped anymore, so I sprinkled some more sugar on them.
These were supposed to bake for 12 to 14 minutes; since I like my cookies on the chewy side I went for the minimum. They came out a little crunchy on outside and a little chewy on the inside.
THE VERDICT: Not quite as chewy as I was hoping for, but not bad. That pinch of ground pepper adds a unexpected pfefferkuchen-like kick. Will and Keith enjoyed them, assuring me that I make a mean molasses spice cookie. These would go great with some vanilla ice cream. A keeper.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Ambition, 2.1
One of the reasons I got so het up about the idea of making homemade ricotta was I found a recipe for ricotta gnocchi. Said recipe was part of an article about using homemade ricotta and sure, I could have just bought a tub of cheese at the store and called it a day, but I got ambitious.
Ricotta recipe one failed miserably. Ricotta recipe two turned out splendidly, and now that I had the main ingredient, I could turn it into gnocchi. The actual recipe was for ricotta gnocchi with some kind of mushroom sauce (serves six), but I skipped the mushroom part and figured on substituting my own tomato sauce.
Per the instructions, I weighed out a pound of ricotta and dutifully drained it until it had the texture of wet clay. I mixed in a half cup of flour, an egg, a tablespoon each of olive oil and melted butter, a 1/4 c. of Parmesan
and some salt and pepper. It felt very sticky, so I added another tablespoon of flour. After the fourth (do not add more than four! the recipe said) it was still pretty sticky, not slighty sticky, but, do not add more than four tablespoons!
I did pause a moment to consider that this was the same guy who wrote ricotta recipe one, and maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. Then I decided to follow what was written and play around another time, if necessary.
I covered and chilled the dough. A half hour later, I took the dough out again and tried to divide it into four parts, but it was awfully sticky. I ended up with three. Using copious amounts of flour, I rolled the dough into 3/4-inch-wide logs. Here, the recipe said to cut them into 1-inch pieces, but I thought they would look more, well, gnocchi-like if I pinched off pieces instead. They were still remarkably sticky, so I rolled them in flour before placing them on a baking sheet to chill some more.
At this point, I had to turn the operation over to Will while I took Keith to soccer practice. Shortly before we were due home, he put the gnocchi on to cook. They boiled in water for a few minutes, floated to the top, and he cooked them about two minutes longer and drained them. Keith and I weren't home yet, so Will kept the gnocchi warm by tossing them with some melted butter in a saute pan over low heat. When we finally got home, he served the gnocchi with tomato sauce.
THE VERDICT: Reaction one -- Serves six? I don't think so. We didn't have enough for four servings, with two of them kid-sized. Granted, I didn't do the mushroom sauce business, which might have had something to do with it, but we still should have had enough for four bowls.
Reaction two -- WOW. Wow, wow, wow. These were really good. The gnocchi were extremely light, with a nice texture and flavor. They also went well with the homemade tomato sauce. So next time, I double the recipe.
Ricotta recipe one failed miserably. Ricotta recipe two turned out splendidly, and now that I had the main ingredient, I could turn it into gnocchi. The actual recipe was for ricotta gnocchi with some kind of mushroom sauce (serves six), but I skipped the mushroom part and figured on substituting my own tomato sauce.
Per the instructions, I weighed out a pound of ricotta and dutifully drained it until it had the texture of wet clay. I mixed in a half cup of flour, an egg, a tablespoon each of olive oil and melted butter, a 1/4 c. of Parmesan
and some salt and pepper. It felt very sticky, so I added another tablespoon of flour. After the fourth (do not add more than four! the recipe said) it was still pretty sticky, not slighty sticky, but, do not add more than four tablespoons!
I did pause a moment to consider that this was the same guy who wrote ricotta recipe one, and maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. Then I decided to follow what was written and play around another time, if necessary.
Reaction two -- WOW. Wow, wow, wow. These were really good. The gnocchi were extremely light, with a nice texture and flavor. They also went well with the homemade tomato sauce. So next time, I double the recipe.
23 years of procrastination
Old habits die hard, really, really hard. To wit, it took me something like 23 years to make the pecan pillow recipe I clipped from Seventeen magazine way back when I was learning to cook. Then it took me another week to post about it.
To be honest, it was a very busy week and I've been so exhausted I didn't watch any of the Red Sox's first two playoff games, and therefore I blame myself for both losses. (Again, old habits die hard -- 23 years of baseball-watching superstition are not wiped out even by two World Series wins in the last six years.)
At any rate, last week I hauled out the Seventeen magazine album of recipes and makeup tips (for a glamorous look, try frosted vanilla eyeshadow with electric blue mascara!) and turned to the pecan pillows recipe. It is, as so many of the teen magazine recipes were back then, ridiculously easy. It also relies on convenient packaged crescent roll dough.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. The first step is to take 2 cups of pecans and chop them in the food processor. This explains the first 10 years or so I didn't make this recipe: I didn't have a food processor until some time after I got married.
Then you throw in 2 tablespoons butter, 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar and 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, and blend until smooth. This step used up the last of my Cassia cinnamon, which pretty much negated any more baking until the replacement order arrived.
The next step told me shopping has changed in 23 years. At this point, I was supposed to crack open two cans of crescent roll dough -- got that -- and separate them into eight rectangles, which meant pinching two triangles of dough together along the hypotenuse sides. This was not difficult. There should be eight triangles in a can, or four rectangles. However, the cans of dough I bought made six "large and buttery" crescents each, meaning three rectangles per can. Either I wasn't paying attention when I was shopping and bought the wrong version, or the crescent roll company completely changed the product.
No matter, it was still (kinda large) rectangles of crescent dough waiting to be filled. The recipe said to use 2 tablespoons of pecan butter filling; I adjusted to 2 1/2. I placed the filling in the center of the dough rectangles, and then folded the corners of the dough over the filling. These didn't look like neat little pillows, more like dim sum gone rogue, but as long as all the sides were pinched closed and nothing was going to leak out, I didn't care.
At this point, I was supposed to quickly brush the pillows with an egg wash. I skipped this step (read, forgot) and just put them on a baking sheet and popped them in the oven for 18 minutes.
VERDICT: These were surprisingly good. They were the sort of thing that makes you drink your milk because they go so well together. Keith and Alex loved them. I don't know that they were worth waiting 23 years to make them, but they were very tasty, and a nice quick dessert/breakfast treat. A keeper.
To be honest, it was a very busy week and I've been so exhausted I didn't watch any of the Red Sox's first two playoff games, and therefore I blame myself for both losses. (Again, old habits die hard -- 23 years of baseball-watching superstition are not wiped out even by two World Series wins in the last six years.)
At any rate, last week I hauled out the Seventeen magazine album of recipes and makeup tips (for a glamorous look, try frosted vanilla eyeshadow with electric blue mascara!) and turned to the pecan pillows recipe. It is, as so many of the teen magazine recipes were back then, ridiculously easy. It also relies on convenient packaged crescent roll dough.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. The first step is to take 2 cups of pecans and chop them in the food processor. This explains the first 10 years or so I didn't make this recipe: I didn't have a food processor until some time after I got married.
Then you throw in 2 tablespoons butter, 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar and 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, and blend until smooth. This step used up the last of my Cassia cinnamon, which pretty much negated any more baking until the replacement order arrived.
The next step told me shopping has changed in 23 years. At this point, I was supposed to crack open two cans of crescent roll dough -- got that -- and separate them into eight rectangles, which meant pinching two triangles of dough together along the hypotenuse sides. This was not difficult. There should be eight triangles in a can, or four rectangles. However, the cans of dough I bought made six "large and buttery" crescents each, meaning three rectangles per can. Either I wasn't paying attention when I was shopping and bought the wrong version, or the crescent roll company completely changed the product.
No matter, it was still (kinda large) rectangles of crescent dough waiting to be filled. The recipe said to use 2 tablespoons of pecan butter filling; I adjusted to 2 1/2. I placed the filling in the center of the dough rectangles, and then folded the corners of the dough over the filling. These didn't look like neat little pillows, more like dim sum gone rogue, but as long as all the sides were pinched closed and nothing was going to leak out, I didn't care.
VERDICT: These were surprisingly good. They were the sort of thing that makes you drink your milk because they go so well together. Keith and Alex loved them. I don't know that they were worth waiting 23 years to make them, but they were very tasty, and a nice quick dessert/breakfast treat. A keeper.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Ambition, 2.0
I now have four different methods of making ricotta at home. My new ambition is to not just succeed at making this stuff, but to figure out which one is the best.
The version I tried this time is from Cook's Illustrated. Heat a gallon of whole milk to 185 degrees, remove from the heat, gently stir in 1/3 c. lemon juice, leave it alone for five minutes and then check to see if it separated into solid white curds and translucent whey. If not, add another tablespoon of lemon juice and wait; repeat until it separates. Drain in the fridge overnight. Result: About 3 1/2 cups of ricotta
Simple enough, right?
I heated the milk, with occasional stirring to keep the bottom from scorching (it did anyway). I poured in the lemon juice and let it sit for five minutes.
Some curds formed, maybe 3/4 c., but the liquid portion was still pretty opaque, so I added some more lemon juice and let it sit.
Then I repeated the process. And again. And one more time.
This time, I could see the whey becoming more translucent as I stirred in the juice. Five minutes later, I had a lot of curds and whey.
I let it drain in the fridge for a couple of hours -- it was the middle of the day, and we needed the colander. The texture was good, the flavor was good -- surprisingly less lemony than the last (failed) batch, despite having about five times as much juice.
Later I'll test it in the ricotta gnocchi I've had my eye on.
The version I tried this time is from Cook's Illustrated. Heat a gallon of whole milk to 185 degrees, remove from the heat, gently stir in 1/3 c. lemon juice, leave it alone for five minutes and then check to see if it separated into solid white curds and translucent whey. If not, add another tablespoon of lemon juice and wait; repeat until it separates. Drain in the fridge overnight. Result: About 3 1/2 cups of ricotta
Simple enough, right?
I heated the milk, with occasional stirring to keep the bottom from scorching (it did anyway). I poured in the lemon juice and let it sit for five minutes.
Then I repeated the process. And again. And one more time.
This time, I could see the whey becoming more translucent as I stirred in the juice. Five minutes later, I had a lot of curds and whey.
I let it drain in the fridge for a couple of hours -- it was the middle of the day, and we needed the colander. The texture was good, the flavor was good -- surprisingly less lemony than the last (failed) batch, despite having about five times as much juice.
Later I'll test it in the ricotta gnocchi I've had my eye on.
Time for an upgrade
I keep forgetting that I need a Bundt pan.
Many years ago, when we were helping downsize somebody's kitchen on Will's side of the family, I acquired a nifty little springform pan with a Bundt insert. It was pretty cool. I could make cheesecakes, I could make Bundt cakes, and I could make a deadly flourless chocolate cake courtesy of Rose Levy Beranbaum. What else did I need?
As it turned out with my nifty little springform pan, the emphasis is on little: The pan in question is maybe 8 inches diameter and not particularly deep, either. I could make small cheesecakes. I could still make my flourless chocolate cake. And an occasional small Bundt cake.
Eventually, I realized I needed a larger springform pan and duly acquired one. But the Bundt pan keeps getting shoved to the back burner. Then things like apple spice cake with brown sugar glaze turn out to be a tasty mess.
Last weekend we made our annual trip to the pick-your-own apple orchard and loaded up on Jonagolds. Some years, this leads to debate about what to do with the fruit as Will and I usually have different ideas. This time, while he went straight to work on a crisp, I lazed around a bit before finally deciding to test out a cake recipe.
The recipe calls for Granny Smiths, but since that wasn't what we had, it wasn't what I used. I grated and drained three Jonagolds -- the boys sampled the resultant juice, and assured me it was a keeper recipe -- and had just a bit more than the 2 c. apple called for.
The cake batter beat up very thick, looking almost like a dough. At this point, I was supposed to transfer it to a greased 12-cup Bundt pan. Of course, what I had was a prepared 8-inch springform pan with a Bundt insert. My guess is it holds 8 or 9 cups. The batter filled the pan most of the way. I thought briefly about putting a cookie sheet on the baking rack under the cake pan, but decided I was OK and just popped the cake into the oven.
Twenty minutes later, I detected the distinctive scent of cake batter that had overflowed the pan and started burning on the bottom of the oven. I mentally kicked myself for not using the cookie sheet, and put one in to catch any other drips. And boy, were there more drips coming.
The cake also took about 10 minutes longer to bake than expected, and the sides of the pan were covered in drips. Once I removed the pan, however, it did look good, a nice even golden brown. While the cake cooled, we nibbled on the cooked drips, which tasted like a nice, slightly crunchy cookie.
The glaze presented no problems: Just melt some sugar, butter, cream and flavorings together and pour over the top of the cake. It was getting on toward dessert time, so we didn't wait too long to let the glaze set.
THE VERDICT: The cake was very moist and the glaze was pretty good. Will, Keith and I all liked the cake OK the first day, but preferred it the second day, after the glaze soaked in more and the flavor deepened. Alex liked it every day. The cake was sturdy enough to travel in lunchboxes. It also went well with coffee. A keeper, but I won't be making it again until I get a real Bundt pan.
Many years ago, when we were helping downsize somebody's kitchen on Will's side of the family, I acquired a nifty little springform pan with a Bundt insert. It was pretty cool. I could make cheesecakes, I could make Bundt cakes, and I could make a deadly flourless chocolate cake courtesy of Rose Levy Beranbaum. What else did I need?
As it turned out with my nifty little springform pan, the emphasis is on little: The pan in question is maybe 8 inches diameter and not particularly deep, either. I could make small cheesecakes. I could still make my flourless chocolate cake. And an occasional small Bundt cake.
Eventually, I realized I needed a larger springform pan and duly acquired one. But the Bundt pan keeps getting shoved to the back burner. Then things like apple spice cake with brown sugar glaze turn out to be a tasty mess.
Last weekend we made our annual trip to the pick-your-own apple orchard and loaded up on Jonagolds. Some years, this leads to debate about what to do with the fruit as Will and I usually have different ideas. This time, while he went straight to work on a crisp, I lazed around a bit before finally deciding to test out a cake recipe.
The cake batter beat up very thick, looking almost like a dough. At this point, I was supposed to transfer it to a greased 12-cup Bundt pan. Of course, what I had was a prepared 8-inch springform pan with a Bundt insert. My guess is it holds 8 or 9 cups. The batter filled the pan most of the way. I thought briefly about putting a cookie sheet on the baking rack under the cake pan, but decided I was OK and just popped the cake into the oven.
Twenty minutes later, I detected the distinctive scent of cake batter that had overflowed the pan and started burning on the bottom of the oven. I mentally kicked myself for not using the cookie sheet, and put one in to catch any other drips. And boy, were there more drips coming.
The cake also took about 10 minutes longer to bake than expected, and the sides of the pan were covered in drips. Once I removed the pan, however, it did look good, a nice even golden brown. While the cake cooled, we nibbled on the cooked drips, which tasted like a nice, slightly crunchy cookie.
The glaze presented no problems: Just melt some sugar, butter, cream and flavorings together and pour over the top of the cake. It was getting on toward dessert time, so we didn't wait too long to let the glaze set.
THE VERDICT: The cake was very moist and the glaze was pretty good. Will, Keith and I all liked the cake OK the first day, but preferred it the second day, after the glaze soaked in more and the flavor deepened. Alex liked it every day. The cake was sturdy enough to travel in lunchboxes. It also went well with coffee. A keeper, but I won't be making it again until I get a real Bundt pan.
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