recipes

Liberté, égalité, blueberry

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While in office as president of France, Charles De Gaulle said, “How can you govern a country which has two hundred and forty-six varieties of cheese?”

Currently there are over 600 distinct types in production there.  And they take their cheese very seriously.

They have a government agency which tightly restricts cheese and many other products.  Once a food has this designation, you just can’t produce it anywhere or in any manner willy-nilly.

Authentic brie has to be made in the Ile de France.  And, the milk can only come from a cow.  No goat, sheep, or whale milk allowed (it really exists and I would totally pay to see somebody milk a whale).

They don’t mess around when it comes to carbs, either.

Boulangeries are bread bakeries.  And the French government has some very strong ideas on the making and selling of it.  Just to be called a boulangerie, each location must choose their own flour, knead their own dough, and bake on premises.

The bake shops in France are separated into two groups.  In one group everyone must vacation in July, the other, August.  This is to make sure all the bakeries won’t close at the same time.  The only other business considered this essential to the welfare of the people of France is pharmacies.  They too, are on staggered vacation schedules.

Sugar is taken quite seriously, as well.  Most French folk purchase sugary baked goods at a place called a patisserie.  To be called a patisserie the shop must employ a licensed maître pâtissier (master pastry chef), who has gone through lengthy training, apprenticeship, and a long and difficult written test.  There are combination boulangerie/patisserie shops, but they must adhere to all the rules for both types of shops.

Did you know the French helped our fledgling nation during its struggle for independence in many vital ways?

They supplied 90% (you read that right—90) of the gunpowder used by the Colonists.

Contrary to being a bunch of “cheese-eating surrender monkeys”, they sent over more than 250,000 soldiers, including Lafayette and Rochambeau.  French ships threw up a blockade that almost kept the British Navy bottled up in their harbors in England.

I’ve often thought that many in the ruling elite probably regretted this martial assistance when two years after the Americans “brexitted” English rule, the French people revolted and years of chaos and slaughter ensued.

So this week to celebrate our own independence and express gratitude with the French, I have created a French dessert; a galette, a rustic, free form pie, with brie.  There’s an American thrust in the choice of fruit, and the store-bought nature of the crust (using my God-given right as an American to half-ass it).

Old Glory galette

galette

1 refrigerated pie crust

8 ounces brie

1 ½ cup fresh blueberries

1 cup frozen cherries, thawed and drained

2 teaspoons very finely minced fresh rosemary

Juice and zest of one lemon

Pinch of salt

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

1 beaten egg

2 tablespoons sanding sugar: a large grain decorating sugar that sparkles and won’t dissolve while baking

Preheat oven to 350.  Place parchment paper on a cookie sheet.

Lay the crust into the center of the parchment-lined sheet.Cut the rind off the brie and cut into strips about ¼ X 2 inches.  Leaving a 2 ½ inch border around the outside of the crust, layer the brie onto the crust.

In a bowl, combine blueberries, cherries, rosemary, lemon zest, salt, and brown sugar.  Spoon 2/3 of the mixture over the brie.

Fold the border of the crust up and around the outer edge.  Put the rest of the berry/cherries on the center of the galette.

Brush the crust with the beaten egg and sprinkle with the sanding sugar.

Bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly.  Let sit 10 minutes before slicing.  Serves 6.

This is a festive, easy dessert for a July 4th picnic or cookout.  And if you want to get all French-ified and fancy, make your own pastry dough, and make six individual galettes.

And when you serve them, you speak in a French accent.  Just like Pepe le Pew.

Thanks for your time.

Patriotic Party Guest

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You can ask The Kid, and there will be full confirmation—I am a corny, kitschy, sentimentalist.

When Petey and I travel, we both love to do the touristy thing.  I’m the girl that would totally stop at World’s Largest Jack-in-the-Box (Middletown, CT), the Indian Death Tiki of Awesomeness (Maggie Valley, NC), and spend the night in dog shaped digs at the Dog Bark Park Inn (Cottonwood, ID) or beneath boulders at Kokopelli’s Cave Bed & Breakfast (Farmington, NM).

OMG, I love these things…

Each fall I literally do a happy dance in the grocery store the first time I see the mellow-creme pumpkins on sale (and don’t even start–they are a completely different confection from candy corns).

I buy one loaf of spongy white, Sunbeam or Wonder bread a year.  It’s used to make my annual Thanksgiving night, before bed, turkey sandwich.

My sweater is exactly like the one in the middle.  Yes, folks, it’s so bad they put it in a very famous Saturday Night Live sketch (I owned it before the sketch).

At Christmastime, I watch hours and hours of fifty-year-old cartoon and Claymation holiday-themed productions.  Each year, If not physically restrained by Petey, I would happily perch on Santa’s lap for a nice, long chat.  I own a Christmas sweater so ugly it’s illegal in 25 states and actually has functioning bells on it.

So when there is a barbecue or picnic for the Fourth of July, you darn well better believe that there will be food, beverages, décor and fashion in red, white, and blue.

For dessert, I buy Independence Day hued M&M’s and liberally scatter them, along with handfuls of broken pretzel pieces, on top of my dark chocolate, fudgy brownies.  And I serve Sundaes with homemade vanilla ice cream drenched in fresh cherry and blueberry sauces.

Blue historically, has been hard to find in savory foods.  I guess there’s blue cheese, and I like it fine, but it’s only blue because of mold; which isn’t really very festive when you think about it.

About fifteen years ago, the US was introduced to a colorful new spud.  Even though it’s known as a purple Peruvian potato, don’t be fooled.  Most of them are as blue as the moon in Kentucky, Elvis’ suede shoes, and a K Mart special.

Uncle Sam’s potato salad

red white blue spud salad

3 pound purple/blue potatoes

2 tablespoons olive oil

Juice of half a lemon

Salt and pepper

24 ounces Cherub baby tomatoes, left whole

8 ounces goat cheese crumbled

5 or 6 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled

Leaving on the skin, cut the potatoes into bite-size piece and cook in heavily salted, boiling water until fork-tender (15-20 minutes).  When still hot, toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil and lemon juice.  Season, and taste for seasoning. 

Let cool completely then put into a large bowl with tomatoes.

Dressing

lemon herb dressing

Whisk together:

1/2 cup olive oil

1/4 cup mayonnaise

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 tablespoons parsley, chopped

1 tablespoon fresh mint, chopped

1 tablespoon fresh basil, chopped

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Refrigerate dressing for at least two hours.

Thirty minutes before service, add dressing to potato/tomato mixture, a little at a time until the vegetables are lightly coated.  Gently mix in goat cheese.  Cover and let sit indoors at room temperature (not outside, where it’s hot, you don’t want a trip to the emergency room for dessert).

Before service, sprinkle the bacon on top.  This way it will still be crispy when eaten.  Serves 8-10.

And if you don’t get it together for the fourth, don’t fret.  This potato salad also works for Bastille Day, on the 14th.  Though, you should probably call it Frere Jacques potato salad.

Thanks for your time.

The Cupcake Column

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The Kid has a pretty dim view of cupcake shops.

cupcake lady

After watching many episodes of “Cupcake Wars” on Food Network, a conclusion has been reached; a disheartening percentage of those batter and frosting folk are a mite squirrely.

While they may actually be perfectly nice people, many seem high strung and theatrical.  And worst of all, not very good bakers.

CCB.LogoLockup.RGB

But, The Kid (and The Kid’s mom) absolutely adores The Cupcake Bar (101 E. Chapel Hill St.).  I asked for an explanation for this exception.

“Because, they’re real.  They’re Durham.”

There is absolutely no higher praise that my born, bred, and Bull City super booster can bestow.  Besides, it’s true.

What sisters Anna Branly and Katie Braam have created in their odd little triangle-shaped space downtown is nothing short of miraculous.  They were pioneers of the downtown renaissance.

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Jessica (left) and Anna packing up a dozen minis for me–after my “shift”.

The space itself is a sunshine-drenched hybrid of history and sleek modernity.  It looks like a bakery and it looks like a slick martini bar, but it also looks like a vintage soda fountain.

The vibe is a combination of casual friendliness and efficient professionalism that works like a buttercream-covered charm.

Then there’s the always scrumptious baked goods.

Each day eight imaginative, playful varieties of cupcakes in both mini and standard-size are baked, frosted, garnished, and put on display.  Offerings such as Mexican chocolate, blueberry (!), or cosmopolitan tempt the senses.

Today I got up early to hang out with owner Anna, and baker Jessica Morek at The Cupcake Bar.  They kindly allowed me to slow down their well-oiled machine and “help” them.  I garnished every cupcake, except for the instructional samples and three  minis that I totally missed.  I only ruined four, or maybe it was five (don’t ask).

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…and I helped!

Here are a few things I discovered.

Anna’s vegetarian, and Jessica doesn’t eat wheat.  Every Wednesday, and sprinkled throughout the week, there’s a gluten-free option.  Vegan show up often, and they’re always meatless.

Co-owner Katie has come up with a genius idea.  When the buttercream’s been made, it’s spooned onto a piece of plastic wrap and then closed up into a large lozenge shape.  When it’s time to pipe, they just drop the whole capsule into a bag and go to work.  The plastic wrap opens inside the bag.  This means easier cleanup and no awkward, messy attempts to fill the pastry bag.  Plus, it saves probably 30 minutes per batch.

This recipe is inspired by the mad scientists at The Cupcake Bar.

Colonial cupcakes with brown butter frosting

Makes approx. 2 dozen standard-sized or 3 dozen minis.

Cake:

cupcake

2 ¼ cups cake flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ cup butter, softened

¾ cup sugar

2 large eggs

1 cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 tablespoon lemon zest

1/8 teaspoon fresh nutmeg

Preheat oven to 375; line muffin cups with papers.

Cream butter and sugar until it’s light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time.

Sift together flour, salt and baking powder.  Add to batter alternating with milk.  Beat well, then stir in vanilla, lemon zest and nutmeg.

Fill the cups ¾ full and bake for 18 minutes (10-13 for minis), or until toothpick comes out moist but clean.  Let cool in pan.

Brown butter frosting

brown frosting

4 cups powdered sugar

½ cup brown butter, softened

¼ cup milk (or as needed to thin to piping consistency)

To make brown butter, melt butter in small saucepan on medium-low. Keep cooking until butter smells nutty and the solids are caramel-colored.  Watch it closely; it will go from browned to burned in literally seconds. 

Put butter in a bowl and refrigerate until chilled solid.  When ready to make frosting, remove from fridge and let come to room temperature.

Mix the sugar and butter well.  Add milk a bit at a time and mix on high until fluffy (2-3 minutes).

Spread or pipe onto cooled cupcakes.

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I had a full-on blast today, and I shocked myself; rather than devouring a whole bowl, I only had one tiny taste of frosting.

And did you know they’ve only been in their building four years?

I can’t remember a time when there wasn’t a Cupcake Bar in my life.

Or maybe I just don’t want to.

Thanks for your time.

Definitely Dixie (kind of)

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I’m broken, and it’s all because of my mom, The Kid, and Fresh Market.

I used to be like all the other proper Southern children and eat any pimento cheese that was offered.  And like any good Southern child, ate it on spongy white bread.

But then two things happened that changed everything, and broke me.

First, my mom came to visit from Greensboro one day.  I honestly don’t remember her ever having arrived empty-handed.  Well, on this fateful day, knowing that I love both pimento cheese and Fresh Market and she brought me a tub of the goo they make in-house at that culinary Aladdin’s cave.

Secondly, when The Kid was in middle school we made a trip to the supermarket.  In the chip aisle, my spawn asked for a specific bag of pretzels.  The ones requested were Utz Special Dark sourdough; another kid had brought them for lunch, and they were a big hit among the lunchroom set.

They were also a hit at Chez Matthews, I took to keeping them around for The Kid’s lunch and to munch on.

One day I had some fresh pimento cheese from Fresh Market in the fridge.  I also had a bag of dark pretzels on the counter.  I wandered into the kitchen looking for something on which to snack.  I pulled out the cheese, and opened the pretzels.  I dunked and tasted.

My whole world shifted.

When The Kid was little and faced with a new food, I used to say try it, because you never know, it might be your new favorite.

The pretzels and the pimento cheese were both tasty on their own.  But the sum of these savory parts made for a whole that was so intensely delicious I needed to sit down.  I may have passed out from the sheer sensory overload.

A couple years ago, I was making oven-baked pork chops.  I needed some breader.  And I just happened to have the better part of a bag of Utz’s on hand.

After grinding in the food processor, I coated the chops and threw them in the oven.  The special dark specialness did it again.  We loved them.

The other day I was making pork chops had an epiphany: I would make a stuffed hybrid.

Stuffed pretzel pork chops

pimento pork

4-1 ½ inch thick boneless pork loin chops

1 cup your favorite pimento cheese

5 cups Utz Special Dark sourdough pretzels, divided

2 cups heavily seasoned flour

2 cups buttermilk

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Cooking spray

Prepare stuffing:  Run 5 or 6 pretzels through food processor until finely crushed.  Measure out 2 tablespoons and mix it with pimento cheese.  Set aside.

With a thin flexible knife cut a pocket into chops.  Cut a small slit (2 inches or less), horizontally in the side.  Push knife into pork, being careful not to cut all the way through.  Wiggle the knife back and forth opening up the pocket.

Put cheese mixture into a zip top bag and cut off one small corner.  Place bag into pork chop, and squeeze in about ¼ of cheese into each.  Place into fridge for at least an hour to chill.

Grind up the rest of the pretzels into large, coarse crumbs.  Place into shallow dish.  Put flour into another bag, and pour buttermilk into another shallow dish.

Coat pork with 3-part dredge; shake in flour, dip in buttermilk, and heavily coat with pretzels.  Put back in fridge for another hour to cool and set the cheese.

Preheat oven to 350.  Put oil into a heavy baking dish.  Set in pork chops and give them a spritz of cooking spray on top.

Bake for 15 minutes.  Using a fork and spatula, gently flip them over and bake 15 minutes more. 

Remove from oven and let rest for 5-10 minutes.  Serves 4.

And how did my mom, The Kid, and Fresh Market break me?

They all contributed to spoiling me for any other pimento cheese.  Nobody else’s tastes good anymore.  And when it’s topping a very specific dark brown, knotted piece of dough, I am reclining among the angels in snacking heaven.

Way to go, guys.

Sadly, there’s no kit to fix me…

Thanks for your time.

You Can Be My Lucky Charm

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How do you prefer your banana pudding?

Whipped cream?

Or meringue?

When I was pregnant with The Kid, we went up to New Jersey for what turned out to be a surprise baby shower.  The festivities were a bacchanal of Jersey-Italian party food.  Meatball and sausage sandwiches, enough potato and macaroni salad to fill a box car, and cake adorned my aunt’s groaning dining room table.

That cake.

Evidently, whipped cream is a desired cake topping for some benighted folk up there.  But I am a member of team buttercream.  Frosting’s one of my favorite foods.  Unfortunately, whipped cream was ordered.

Because my pregnancy hormones had already caused me to cry once that day, I used every ounce of my gestationally-frayed self-control and refrained from sobbing in disappointment.  But I ate no cake at my own baby shower.

You know what, though?  I think I’m good on the whole whipped cream thing.  I mean, considering this possible alternative.  My whipped cream cake  was just white with plastic babies on it–not in it.

But on banana pudding, I choose whipped cream.  Because I really dislike meringue.

Until last week.

I get weekly emails from McCormick Spice Company.  The latest one had a recipe for meringue cookies.  I studied it.

On this recipe, and every other I’ve ever seen, there are dire warnings to never attempt making meringue on rainy or humid days.  It was pouring out, but I had a theory.

My theory was that modern homes are built so air-tight that they cut down humidity to negligible levels.  As a purely scientific experiment (certainly not to eat), I’d create meringues.

Starting with the recipe they supplied, I changed it up a bit, and went to work.

Classic Vanilla Meringues

meringues supplies

4 large egg whites

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 225, and line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Place egg whites into bowl of stand mixer.  Beat on medium until they lighten in color and begin to increase in size.  Slowly add cream of tartar.

When they turn white, slowly add sugar a tablespoon at a time.  When added scrape down sides of bowl.

Turn mixer back on. Running on high, slowly add salt, then vanilla.  Beat until glossy, and stiff peaks form.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAUse large pastry tip fitted on zip-top bag (or, if you don’t have a pastry tip, cut about 1/2 inch off one corner of bag). Fill with meringue and pipe onto parchment paper into circles of 2 inches wide.

Place both oven racks close to center and put one cookie sheet on each rack.  Bake for 30 minutes then rotate sheets.  Bake for 30minutes more.  Turn off oven and let meringues sit in oven for one hour. 

Because they’ll absorb moisture from the air and get soft, store them in airtight container.  You can re-crisp them in a 225 oven for 15-20 minutes, but they’ll never be as perfect as when fresh.

Makes 30 cookies.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThey take flavor easily, so play with extracts.  Mocha, for instance; add 2 tablespoons of cocoa with the sugar, use coffee instead of vanilla. 

So, my theory proved correct.  They turned out crispy, and to my huge surprise, crazy yummy.

They’re also only 26 calories apiece and both gluten and fat-free.

The best part is these addictive little treats are very much like marshmallows in Lucky Charms.  My whole life I’ve wished for a box that somehow slipped through quality control, and held no cereal, but was filled solely with marshmallows.

It does exist.  If this is true, who knows what else is real?  Maybe Pauly Shore is funny, and Kanye is talented.

Now when I get that feeling, I can, in twenty minutes, turn out a pan of homemade ones the size of hockey pucks.

It’s good to be alive.

Thanks for your time.

Ate My Fill On Blueberry Hill

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About six years ago, I was disgusted.  And also, scornful.

image(1)

That’s me in 11th grade with my best buddy, Waldo.  Fat and spotty–it’s a wonder that boys weren’t lined up around the clock…

Since junior high my weight had stayed around 185.  I’d fluctuate; from an infrequent low of 160 to my max weight of 227 after The Kid’s birth.

But finally, I made a decision.  My weight was creeping back up to 200, and my clothes felt tight and uncomfortable.  I was sick and tired of being fat.

This time, I made two changes that made all the difference.

I increased my activity level from nonexistent to light.  As I got healthier, I moved more.

And I finally realized that losing weight was just the beginning.  I had to keep the weight off once I reached my goal.  But I also knew there was no way I could live the rest of my life only eating rice cakes and poached chicken.  A life without potato salad and cake was not a life in which I wanted to participate.

My primary strategy would be to limit calories.  One meal per day would have a maximum of 300 calories.  Then I’d eat a normal dinner with unlimited fresh fruit or veg between meals and a bite of something sweet before bed.

This is an actual picture of me, grazing.

This I could live with.

I had another tactic.  I would absolutely not eat flavorless “diet food”.  I held “frou-frou” food in complete disdain.  Most healthy swaps little resembled the food they were imitating, and not only did they not hit the spot, they had no idea where the spot was, or what to do with the spot if, on the offside chance, the spot was located.

But.

If there’s a healthier option for something, I give it a go.  If I’m unable to tell the difference between the more voluptuous version and its healthier variation, I go for healthier.

This diet philosophy worked.  It’s been five years now, and my weight stays around 128 pounds.  I wished I’d figured it out decades ago.

Last week when Petey and I were in Whole Foods, Demo Specialist Joe DiBario had a table set up and was serving Portobello sliders.  For dessert, he’d made a delicious treat that I ended up buying.  At home, after I polished it off, I called the store and asked for the recipe.

It’s a creamy blueberry pudding topped with goji berries and cooked dried apples.  I could eat a bowl of the apples and goji by themselves.  They’d make an awesome topping for all kinds of things, like oatmeal, or pancakes, or even on pork chops.

It becomes pudding by using chia seeds, a food that a few years ago I would have laughed at, not eaten.  Chia seeds are insanely good for you and when allowed to sit in a liquid will swell and form into a texture that is quite similar to tapioca pudding.

Team Leader Andrea Mastrobuono, was kind enough to act as a go-between, get the recipe from Joe, and send it to me to include in today’s column.

Blueberry Chia Pudding with Turmeric Apples and Goji Berries

Blueberry chia pudding:

blueberry puddng

1 cup chia seeds

3 cups apple cider

½ cup crushed blueberries + ¼ cup whole

Zest and juice of ½ lime

½ tablespoon honey

¼ teaspoon allspice

Pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and whisk together. Refrigerate for 3 hours.

Turmeric apples:

turmeric apples

1 cups agave syrup

Juice and zest of ½ lime

Pinch of salt

1 tablespoon turmeric

1 cup dried apples

In a small saucepan, combine agave, lime, salt and turmeric and bring it to a simmer. Remove from heat and pour over dried apples.

Goji berries:

goji

¼ cup goji berries

¼ cup orange juice

Cover Goji berries with OJ and let them sit at room temperature for 15 minutes.

Assemble the dish with your pudding as the base and top it with turmeric apples, and goji berries.

Makes 8-10 servings at around 200 calories each.

This pudding is the kind of thing I want to eat on a rainy day fresh from the shower.  Whether you’re watching your weight or not, it’s delicious.  But it just happens to be better for you than a handful of Flintstones chew-ables.

I loved Romper Room, but Miss Carol never, not once, saw me in her fickin’ magic mirror.

Definitely, happily, on the do-bee list.

 

Thanks for your time.

Apostate Pasta

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So a couple weeks ago a French website posted a recipe for carbonara and all of Italy lost their collective mind.

France, why do you want to piss this guy off?

The procedure called for the whole thing to be boiled altogether in one pot.  And while I’m a fan of the odd one-pot pasta, carbonara should not be trifled with in such a manner.

Boiled pancetta?  Really?

The classic recipe is extremely simple with just four ingredients: spaghetti, pancetta, eggs, and Parmesan cheese.

But simple, especially in the case of carbonara, absolutely does not mean easy.  It’s far easier to botch it and end up with a greasy congealed tangle of noodles that look more like a punishment than dinner.

As appetizing as a letter from the IRS.

What can go wrong: Over, or undercook the spaghetti.  You can burn, or conversely fail to render the pancetta and have limp, fatty pork.  And the most problematic of all are the eggs.  If the heat is too high, or you don’t stir briskly enough, you get scrambled eggs.  And if you do stir with enough vigor it’s possible to not have the now broken pasta hot enough to cook the eggs.

It is a dance that’s potentially dangerous enough to strike fear in the heart of the very finest dancing “celebrity”.

But done right?  Done right it’s a song sung by Freddy Mercury or Billie Holiday.  It’s a landscape by Ansel Adams, a shoe by Louboutin, a dress by Coco Chanel all rolled up into one creamy, unctuous, heart-breakingly delicious bowl of pasta.

See how that sauce clings like a bad boyfriend?  That’s what I’m talking about.

My advice from the trenches is to have every bit of your prep done before you turn on burner one.  If you’re not ready every step of the way, the whole thing will get away from you, and that way lies madness and scrambled disappointment.  Take your time—be the master of your culinary domain, and don’t let the food dictate your actions and state of mind.  You have to commit; you’re cooking something that’s a little advanced; don’t be tentative.

Attitude is half the battle.

My recipe has a healthy serving of attitude.  I had some beautiful fresh angel hair pasta and decided that it really needed to be used for carbonara.  But I had bacon, and not pancetta.  I was also very low on Parmesan, but had a nice big piece of aged Manchego, which is very hard and dry like Parm.

So I made an executive decision.  But purists might take issue with it.

Blasphemous Carbonara

carbonara

9 ounces long pasta

4 or 5 slices bacon, cut into 1/4-inch strips

3 extra large eggs or 3 large + 1 large yolk

1/4 cup Manchego cheese, grated fine, plus more for garnishing

Salt and pepper to taste

1 cup pasta water, reserved

Place eggs and cheese into bowl, season, and whisk until well-mixed.

In a large pot, cook pasta until al dente in heavily salted water.

In a separate large pan, render bacon.  Remove and set aside.  Pour off bacon fat until 2 tablespoons are left.  Turn pan down to low.

Remove cooked pasta from pot with tongs, reserving water. Place directly into pot with bacon fat.  Toss until well-coated.

Take pot off heat and slowly pour in egg mixture while constantly, vigorously, stirring pasta.  When it’s all added, continue stirring until egg mixture is heated and emulsified.  Briefly place pot back over a low burner if more heat is needed to thicken (sauce should be the consistency of heavy cream).  If it just looks like raw beaten eggs, it needs more gentle heat.  If it seems a little tight, add in abit of pasta water.

Place into two bowls and garnish with the bacon and more cheese.

Serves 2.

If the idea of this pasta dish appeals to you, I really hope you try making it.

And it’s entirely possible that you’ll screw it up the first time.  It’s probably wise to have a dinner backup plan that night, just in case.

But I’m telling you, getting this right has a huge payoff.

Not only do you get to enjoy what is arguably one of Italy’s finest gifts to mankind (even taking into account Ancient Rome and the Renaissance), you’ll have the thrill of being the kitchen swashbuckler who had the chops to put this ambrosia on the table.  You are fierce.

 

Fierce, I tells ya.

Thanks for your time.

Blue and green

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I love it, Petey likes it, but in moderation, and The Kid can’t stand it.

I’m talking blue cheese.

So when I googled “Blue cheese, I discovered something…

 

I discovered that this too, is called blue cheese.

When I was little, on the rare occasion when I was forced to eat a green salad, I passed up the thousand island, and asked for blue cheese, ‘cause that’s what my dad ate (Ranch wasn’t an option, as it was only discovered in 1979 when a guy in Idaho trying to dig his way to China struck a rich vein of ranch dressing in his backyard.).  I enjoy the funky saltiness of blue, and still love the dressing on canned pears—I know; weird, but try it before you judge too harshly.

Ten or twelve years ago, on a family vacation to the mountains, Petey discovered the joyous combo of blue cheese and beef.  But he shies away from too much or too strong; so that means no gorgonzola or Roquefort for my ever-loving spouse.

The Kid?  Forget it.  Although normally an extremely adventurous diner, blue cheese, along with coconut and beets, are on the iron-clad official “Thou shalt not pass (my lips)” list.

k hate

Nope.Nope.Nope.

Recently Petey and I discovered a new blue that we really like.  It’s Carolina Bleu, from the Ashe County Dairy.  It’s quite mild and much softer than a normal version.

I had picked up some hamburger on the $2.99 sale that Fresh Market has on ground chuck every Tuesday, and when I discovered that the Durham Co-op carries Carolina Bleu, I decided to make hamburgers.

Carolina Bleu-stuffed burgers

blue burger

1 pound ground beef

2 ¼-inch slices Carolina Bleu cheese

Divide meat into fourths.  Make four flat burgers about 4 inches across.  Place cheese on two of the burgers.  Cover with the other burgers and seal the two together making sure they are completely sealed.

Cook on a crazy hot cast iron skillet for 2-3 minutes per side.  Don’t overcook or the cheese will ooze out and leave you with nothing in the center but disappointment. 

Dress and enjoy.  Serves 2.

On the same trip to the co-op, I picked up the cutest little baby zucchinis.  It was a complete impulse buy; I had no clue what I would do with them…until I started thinking side dishes for the stuffed burgers.

Zucchini fries

zucchini fries

8 baby zucchini, washed and quartered, length-wise

Flour for dredging, very heavily seasoned with salt and pepper

2 cups buttermilk

2 cups panko breadcrumbs

½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese

Fine sea salt

Oil, for frying

Place seasoned flour into a large zip-top bag.  Pour buttermilk into a shallow dish.  In another shallow dish, mix together breadcrumbs and Parm.

Coat squash in flour, shaking off excess.  Dredge in buttermilk, then breadcrumbs, making sure veg is totally coated.  Place on parchment-lined tray and refrigerate for at least one hour, and up to six,

When ready to cook, heat 1 ½ inches of oil in heavy-bottomed pot until it reaches 325 degrees.

Working a few at a time, fry sticks until they are golden brown.  Salt directly after removing from oil, then place on a cooling rack in a 170-degree oven to keep warm until they are all cooked.

Serve immediately with dipping sauce of your choice (I like ranch or mouth-puckeringly sour lemon aioli).

I’ve two things in closing.

I recently discovered this cheese is also carried at Earth Fare, in Raleigh’s Brier Creek.

And because this cheese is so soft and sliceable, I think it would work really well for a grilled cheese on hearty whole grain bread.     

Thanks for your time.

Sweet Dreams

/ momsequitur / Leave a comment

Did you ever have one of those dreams where you’re in a bakery or candy store surrounded by treats?  And you can’t decide what you’re gonna start with?  And right before you take the first bite you wake up?

Yeah, that happened to me.  I was sitting at a table in Chapel Hill, looking down at eight different gorgeous sweet treats.  Only this time, nobody was shaking me awake to take out the dog, or catch the school bus, or get ready for work.

I was awake and got to partake.

But before I take a bite, I should probably go back to the very beginning.

Chef James Clark is executive chef of the Crossroads Restaurant in the beautiful and historic Carolina Inn on the campus of UNC.  I met him right after he started there.  I can truthfully say that his friendship is one of the best things to have come from writing this column.

He has three main characteristics that make him particularly well-suited to his position.

1.) He is a nurturing host.  It all boils down to his desire to take care of people.  He observes his staff and guests with a paternal eye.  He desires to bring the best out of his employees by teaching and encouraging, rather than shaming and berating.  Toward every hotel and restaurant guest, he strives to exceed all of their desires and fulfill wishes they didn’t even know they possessed.

I have never left his kingdom without being full of delicious food, and delighted by the way that he can always add one more element to my time there that is both a complete surprise to me and just the right thing to make a visit unforgettably special; it’s Chef James’ modus operandi

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Madison Clark, and dad James.

2.) He is a good old Southern boy.  With all his heart he loves the food and culture of the South.  Chef reveres the creativity and skill of the generations before him.  He honors their history by getting the very best local ingredients, manipulating them with talent and a sense of history, and coaxing out the very best of each component.

3.) The man’s a world-class, classically trained chef.  Once you’ve learned and studied all the rules, then if you have the expertise and imagination you can play with them.  And Chef James has lots of fun in the kitchen.  He takes a common, old-fashioned recipe, elevates the ingredients and procedure, and turns out an homage to classic Southern fare.

But don’t confuse classic with stuffy.  Chef James may be a dignified executive chef, but from him, you’ll get absolutely no love for swank and pretense.

His take on Eastern NC bbq is a perfect example.  The plate comes with an old-school, pointy-topped vinegar bottle of sauce.  There’s pork, but a perfectly seared and juicy tenderloin.  The cole slaw is a bright yet sweet slaw of spiral cut veg.  Sous Chef Jonathon James’ take on cornbread is a delicious, sweet, zippy corn pudding.

Corn Poblano Pudding

corn puddingCorn Base:

1 Cup Fresh Corn                                                                                             

1 Cup Whole Milk                                                                                             

Caramelize corn in a hot medium sauté pan, deglaze milk reduce by a ¼. Blend on high until smooth but some of the texture of the corn remains

Pudding:

1 ½ Cup Corn base    

1 Poblano Pepper, roasted (charred skin and seeds removed, then diced)

8 Eggs

1 Cup Heavy Cream   

2 Tablespoons Chili Powder 

1 ½ Cups Cheddar Cheese (grated)  

¾ – 1 Cup Corn Muffin Mix (*Debbie here—I would go with something like Jiffy)                                                                                        

Salt & Pepper To Taste

Combine all ingredients and mix thoroughly. Preheat oven to 350 degrees with the cast iron vessel you are using to bake pudding in so it is hot when time to bake. Spray vessel well and bake approx.. 15 minutes. Top should bounce to the touch.

There just isn’t enough room in this piece to tell you all about Petey and Debbie’s excellent adventure.  So next week  I’ll write more tales of our night, including the world’s greatest pasta course, how I ate some of each seafood that arrived at our table, and what I did with all those desserts (and no, I didn’t leave Petey for all that sugary bounty—he’s sitting here right next to me).

 

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See?  He’s just fine.

Thanks for your time.

 

Curds and why didn’t I know about this?

/ momsequitur / 3 Comments

I didn’t even know this was a thing.

I was shopping online for The Kid’s birthday present, and I got distracted looking for this awesome pear/vanilla jam I bought from Whole Foods.  It was an intensely flavored spread that made me feel like my morning toast was actually a piece of birthday cake in disguise.

Unfortunately, they no longer carry it, and I never took note of the brand, which means I can’t look for it by name.  So, every once in a while I’ll fall down the Google rabbit hole for a few hours searching for something which may not even exist anymore.

During the hunt, I discovered that Dickinson’s, a Smucker’s-owned company that makes lemon and lime curds, also makes vanilla curd.

Vanilla Curd?!?  Stop and let that sink in a moment.  Vanilla.Curd.

And thus I discovered vanilla curd was a thing.  I decided to purchase some.

But here there be roadblocks.  #1-It’s not sold in any stores within a 50-mile radius.  #2-I can order it, but only by the case.  #3-The cases start at $30.00.  #4-Shipping for something I don’t even know if I’ll enjoy is an average of $12.87.

Look, I just bought a pair of sandals that I had to return because they gave me blisters, I can’t have two massive shopping fails in one week, my pride just won’t stand for it.  I took the shoes back to Marshalls, but I can’t return internet curd just because I don’t like it.

This thing might just work…

But then my search-engine-softened brain had a thought: Gee whiz, I can cook.  Maybe there’s some type of home machine that fits onto my lap and can connect to the whole wide world to find a recipe?

By gum, there is, and I found one (and then tweaked it some).

Debbie’s vanilla curd

curd ingredients

1 cup sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch

2 vanilla beans, halved, split and scraped

1 cup water

Large pinch of salt

2 egg yolks, beaten

4 tablespoons cold butter, cut into pieces

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

In a medium pan, combine sugar, cornstarch, salt, and vanilla beans and caviar. Add water and cook over medium heat for 5 to 7 minutes, or until thickened.

In a small bowl, lightly beat egg yolks. Whisking constantly, very slowly pour about a cup of the hot sugar mixture into egg yolks; add egg yolk mixture back to hot sugar mixture, whisking to combine. Cook over medium heat for 4 minutes, or until thickened.

Remove from heat.  Discard vanilla beans; whisk butter into hot curd. Stir in vanilla extract. Let cool; spoon curd into airtight container and store in refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.

vanilla curd

The finished curd, becoming acquainted in my fridge.

This stuff tastes like vanilla did when you were a kid, and your taste buds were new.  Think drinking milkshakes in the back seat or Hunt’s Snack Pack with the metal pull-off lid that all the grown-ups said would cut your tongue when you licked it (but it never did).  It tastes like what vanilla smells like.  It tastes like warm happiness.

The texture is like lemon curd or creamed honey.  It’s slow moving and very spreadable.

What to put it on?

Well, my spoon worked awesomely.  But seriously, I’d put in on cakes, or cookies.  You could drizzle it on ice cream or fruit, or stir it into some hot milk, with a dusting of nutmeg.

As for me, I had a schmear on my English muffin.

And totally felt like I was back in the lunchroom at Central Elementary.

Thanks for your time.