Although I have a deep and abiding love for it, I have a complicated relationship with Costco.
It took many years before I could walk into my local warehouse and walk out with only what I need, and not a 50-gallon drum of marinated artichoke hearts and a pallet of golf balls (I don’t even golf). But still, each time I visit I discover something I’ve never even known existed, but also know in my very marrow, that I can’t continue life on this planet without it.
I often venture into that house-sized refrigerator where the keep their veggies and come out bearing a giant amount of this or that. Frequently, it’s their button mushrooms, that come in like a forty- or fifty-pound box.
And when I get them home, I look at them with the same confusion and trepidation with which Petey and I gazed at the newly born Kid.
What do we do with it now?
Last week, I decided to do a creamy mushroom bake. I love all three of those words; each one implies something tasty, and used together, connote comfort food heaven.
There were two big stars in this dish. One’s a tub of Brie. I love brie but rarely have it around the house because I’m scared I’ll go into a cheese fugue state and run dairy amuck. It’s the same thing with still-warm Krispy Kreme doughnuts—I just don’t trust myself around them. I’ve never eaten more than three in one sitting but am pretty sure I could polish off 18 or 20 without batting an eye.
The other new, but really important ingredient was mushroom stock. I always discard the stems when I use mushrooms, but this time I tossed them into a pot with 2 cups of chicken stock, a handful of dried mushrooms, and a couple bay leaves. I then boiled it until it reduced by half, then strained it.
Creamy Brie Mushroom Bake
½ cup + 3 tablespoons butter, divided
2 pounds sliced button mushrooms, cleaned, stems removed and saved for stock
1 yellow onion, chopped
2 tablespoons dried thyme
¼ teaspoon dried rosemary
½ cup white wine
½ cup flour
1 cup mushroom stock
2 cups 2% milk
½ cup heavy cream
1 5-ounce container spreadable Président Creamy Brie
1 16-ounce box corkscrew pasta, cooked for 5 minutes only
½ cup shredded manchego
Salt & pepper to taste
Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in large, heavy pot. Add mushrooms, onion, thyme and rosemary. Season, then stir to coat. Turn to medium, cover and cook until the water’s released from veg. Uncover and cook until the liquid’s cooked out, and mushrooms start to brown. Pour in wine and cook until dry. Remove veg and set aside.
Melt rest of the butter and stir in flour. Cook 2 minutes then add stock, milk and cream. Stir continuously until it boils. Take off heat and stir in brie until melted.
Preheat oven to 350. Add vegetables and noodles to pot. Stir until everything’s coated and veg are evenly distributed. Taste for seasoning and re-season, if necessary. Pour into greased casserole dish. Cover with parchment, then foil.
Bake covered casserole for 45 minutes, uncover, top with shredded cheese, and bake, uncovered for 30 minutes. Let sit 15 minutes before service. Serves 8.
The dish was a hit, but it almost got Petey a punch in the nose.
When I told him what we were having for dinner, he asked, “Isn’t this mushroom stuff just like something you’ve made before?”
No, Petey. It has mushroom stock and brie—it’s totally different.
Husbands.
Thanks for your time.
When is a convertible not a convertible?
But, one would be wrong.
Fortunately, even though there are laws about baguettes, as far as I know, none of them prohibit us non-French rubes from enjoying them. And, unlike your average loaf of Sunbeam, baguettes are sublime at every stage, from fresh out of the oven to old, hard and stale (just not furry—that’s no good for anybody).
So fresh it’s still warm: break off a hunk, and smear it with a big scoop of runny, buttery brie. You eat enough of this and you will acquire a French accent. You’ll also acquire a butt so big that you need two seats at the movies, but that’s a whole other conversation.
Super fresh but room temperature: sharing a large piece with a friend on a veranda with butter, strawberry jam, and coffee (French press, of course) or thick creamy hot chocolate. On this side of the Atlantic, the very best place to do this is Caffe Driade, in Chapel Hill. Honest, it is one of the few supreme joys in this life that cost less than $20.
If you cut the bread into cubes, and toast them in a skillet with oil, herbs and salt and pepper you have croutons that will make you wonder why you ever bought those sawdust squares in the bag.
And one of the greatest uses for any bread: pain perdu. What a North Carolinian calls French toast, a resident of the Loire Valley calls, “lost bread”. You make a custard with eggs and milk, flavor with brown sugar, vanilla, fresh nutmeg, and a pinch of salt. Heat the oven to 375 and melt a dollop of butter in a skillet while you soak both sides of 1&1/2” slices in the custard. When the butter’s foamy, cook the slices on both sides until golden. 
As they finish, lay them on a sheet pan you’ve fitted with a cooling rack. When they’re all ready, bake in the oven until puffed and the custard’s cooked through, about 5-7 minutes. Dress and devour.
If you have a baguette, and can’t get to it while it’s fresh, freeze it. When you’re ready, dampen the entire loaf, and cook in a 350-degree oven for 13 minutes. Right before you put in the loaf, splash ½ cup of cold water into oven to bring up a burst of steam. It will come out as fresh and crusty as day one, I promise.
bull city mom 