Sorrel Soup

by autumn on March 29, 2012

Let’s talk about time travel. The hot & sticky kind. The kind that you do alone in the kitchen after going to great lengths to bring home a small sour bunch of spring greens. If we’re honest, aren’t we always cooking back to something?

When I make sorrel soup in the spring, I reassemble my favorite market back home in Montana. First, the old woman with the tiny card table full of the only green thing stubborn enough to brave spring in the Rockies. She told me it was like spinach and—oh my goodness—it is not like spinach. Then, her refusal to sell me anything until the market bell had rung, making its opening official. I couldn’t sleep—still can’t—and the only cure for that sort of thing is buying vegetables.

I cook back to a cool quiet morning, the cleansing bite of sorrel, and home.

Sorrel Soup

Ingredients

  • 2 large (100 g) shallots, roughly chopped
  • 4 cloves (12 g) garlic, roughly chopped
  • 1 small (85 g) carrot, peeled and thinly sliced
  • 1 large (380 g) potato, peeled and cubed
  • 3 generous handfuls (90 g) sorrel, with large stems removed
  • 1 cup dry white wine
  • 5 or more cups water or stock
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 sprig rosemary
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • a good pour of olive oil

Cooking Directions

  1. Saute shallots and garlic in olive oil until translucent, over low heat.
  2. Add carrot and potato and saute 3 or so minutes more.
  3. Pour in the wine then add the water/stock. Drop in the bay leaf and rosemary.
  4. Increase the heat to high. Bring it to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer.
  5. Cover and cook until the potatoes are fork tender. Keep an eye on the liquid level. You'll likely need to add more as you go. The potatoes should always be just about covered.
  6. When the potatoes are done remove from the heat and stir in the sorrel. It should wilt immediately and turn a much less pretty color. If not, put the lid back on the pot and let it sit for a few.
  7. Remove the bay leaf and rosemary stick and blend, adding more liquid as necessary.
  8. Serve immediately. Garnish with something creamy or crunchy if you'd like.

More Sorrel Soup:

{ 10 comments }

Canning Plan: Free Printable Download

by autumn on March 27, 2012

I picked up these flowering quince branches at the greenmarket this weekend. “Picked up” makes it seem quite casual. In fact, getting these and two bags of groceries home from Manhattan via public transportation took some commuting finesse.  They’ve spruced up my kitchen table since and, miraculously, I’ve managed to avoid poking an eye out on them.

I treated myself to the quince branches because I’m off work this week and figured I’d get the maximum enjoyment out of them, since I’ll be around the apartment more than usual. However,  in true Autumn fashion, I have already made two different lists to help plan how I’ll take advantage of my break. On my first official day of vacation, I was out all day doing those things I had been meaning to do forever, but just hadn’t made time for. (Including the essential task of buying fancy chocolate).

I love lists. I know I’m not the only one. Not just any old list, but a hand-written, checked-off in marker, scrap paper list. I’m definitely a planner and when I get stuff down on paper, the world feels right. The pretty quince branches on my table mean it’s time to start planning for the upcoming preserving season. To help you (and me!),  I made this cute printable canning plan.

Click here to download a free, printable PDF (for your personal use only, please). It’s two pages of list-making love to help plan your canning season. I’ve also collected some links below from myself and others to get you thinking about what you’re going to put up and what you need to use up. Enjoy!

Big thanks to Emily, Julia, Megan, the folks from Blue Chair Fruit, and others for sharing how they get ready for a preserving season and helping me make this for you!

{ 10 comments }

Plenty Giveaway Winner and Cookbook Habits

by autumn on March 24, 2012

I am happy to share that Krista is the winner of Plenty. Enjoy Krista! I loved hearing about everyone’s cookbook buying (or not buying) habits. I felt an affinity for the folks that shared they’ll take a book out from the library multiple times, but still not buy it. I’m totally guilty of that too! I think Kaela put it best when she said, ” it takes an Act of Parliament for me to actually purchase another cookbook.” Sounds familiar.

I’m also a master of library holds, which it sounds like a number of you are too. My problem, if you can call it a problem, is that I place a bunch of holds at once, which often means I end up inundated with awesome cookbooks. Because I feel like you’ll appreciate it, here’s the stack I’m currently working through.

{ 3 comments }

Maple Lime Gimlet

by autumn on March 20, 2012

The secret to kitchen magic is being out of everything you think you need. Nothing good is going to happen until you realize mid-recipe that you don’t have the one and only ingredient you’re sure you can’t do without. When you’re standing on a chair, pulling Christmas sprinkles and pinto beans out of the cupboard, desperate for even a tablespoon more of powdered sugar, you’re ready for the muse.

Thanks to my beloved Sodastream, I recently found my simple syrup stores depleted. Of course, I didn’t realize this until I was mid-gimlet. There was maple syrup; I figured it would do. Turns out, I made something extra delicious completely by accident and I’ve made it on purpose a number of times since. The maple syrup is warm like pancakes and the gin has cool botanicals. At my imaginary cocktail bar, this drink is called the icy-hot.

Maple Lime Gimlet

Yield: 1 gimlet

Ingredients

  • 1/2 oz lime juice
  • 1/2 oz maple syrup, preferrably grade b
  • 1 3/4 oz gin
  • soda, as needed

Cooking Directions

  1. Combine maple syrup, lime juice, and gin in a old fashioned glass and stir. (Do not fret over these amounts. I eyeballed them on my jigger.)
  2. Add ice and top with soda, as needed.

 More Gimlet goodness:

Psst… I want to give you a copy of Plenty: Vibrant Recipes from London’s Ottolenghi, which was just nominated for a James Beard award. Click here to enter.

{ 6 comments }

Black Lentils with Celeriac and Mint & Plenty Cookbook Giveaway

by autumn on March 18, 2012

I need to talk about dinner. The food I share here, which undeniably tends toward the sugary, may have led you to believe that I only consume treats and cocktails. If only. The truth is that I adore vegetables and cook them pretty much every night. Even though the boyfriend and I are just a little family of two, it still feels totally important for us to eat food together at the end of the day.

You’re already rolling your eyes aren’t you? No, of course I don’t cook every night and I’ll be the first to admit that we would starve were it not for canned chickpeas. There are the nights when even opening a can is too much and I fall back on one of these little boxes of shame, which I always have in my freezer. Inexplicably, I fell in love with this product and that’s all I’m going to say because I’m embarrassed that I eat frozen macaroni and cheese that is neither macaroni nor cheese.

The truth is, after a wild day out in the world, cooking a good-for-you dinner feels like fighting back. It’s insisting to go slow and be well. At least that’s what I tell myself when I am exhausted and trying to motivate myself not to plop down on the couch and eat corn chips directly from the bag.

I realized recently that what I very often look for in a book or a blog is something good for dinner. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone straight to 101 cookbooks to help figure out what to cook for the week. Plenty has also totally upped my dinner game. I’m not much for celebrity chefs, but I’m here to profess my unwavering love for Yotam Ottolenghi. He has a column in The Guardian, a bunch of successful restaurants in London, and Plenty, a culinary love letter to vegetables that insists they’re the stars of the plate.

He wrote this really poetic thing about salads recently that I think perfectly characterizes his cooking style, “the challenge is to make complete strangers – ingredients that have only just met – seem like old friends.” The components of his recipes don’t necessarily seem like they’d get along, but they’re completely in love.

I can’t wait to cook through summer with Plenty (there’s a recipe for “tomato party” that I’ve been eyeing longingly all winter). In the name of better dinners, I’ve made a goal for myself to share more of my meals in this space, like this Ottolenghi-inspired salad of black lentils with celeriac and mint. I’m also giving away a copy of Plenty. Leave a comment on this post before 6pm eastern time on Friday, 3/23 to be entered to win. Random.org and I will choose a winner Friday night. (This giveaway is open to US and Canadian residents.)

Black Lentils with Celeriac and Mint, just barely adapted from Plenty

Serving Size: 2 as a main dish, 3-4 as a side

Ingredients

  • 1 small (8oz) celeriac, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch long matchsticks
  • 1/2 cup black lentils, rinsed
  • 1 1/2 cup water
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1/2 cup pecans, roughly chopped
  • 2 T olive oil
  • 1 1/2 t apple cider vinegar
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • fresh mint, cut into ribbons, to taste

Cooking Directions

  1. Toast the pecans in a bare skillet (I used cast iron) over med-high heat until they just begin to get dark spots. Remove and set aside.
  2. Bring lentils, water, and bay leaf to a boil in a small saucepan over high heat. Immediately reduce heat to low and barely simmer until the lentils are tender, but still hold their shape, about 20 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile, boil the celeriac in a separate small sauce pan until just tender, about 5 minutes. Drain and set aside.
  4. In a large bowl whisk together the olive oil and vinegar to make the dressing.
  5. Once the lentils are done, drain as much water off as you can and immediately toss them in the bowl with the dressing. Add the celeriac, pecans, and salt & pepper to taste.
  6. When you're ready to serve it, garnish with fresh mint.

{ 35 comments }

Strawberry Fool

by autumn on March 14, 2012

New Yorkers think the weather is out to get them. We’ve had a famously mild winter this year. February gave us a number of stunning days and instead of being grateful we were suspicious. On the most gorgeous day last month, I heard no less than five people utter some variation of  “I can’t believe how nice it is! It’s probably going to snow all of March.” As if atmospheric pressure gives a damn about our tiny lives. Well, it’s mid-March and no apocalyptic blizzards yet.

Sometimes, I bury rolls of film in my desk drawer for months. When I get them developed, I am surprised by my own memories. I got some prints back recently that turned out to be from almost a year ago at the cherry blossom festival. The cherries in full bloom in Brooklyn are–hands down–my favorite thing in New York City. They’re also the only thing that can convince me spring is here. (Pssst! I must have double-exposed this next photo. Either that or the tree is leopard print.)

Dreaming of spring means dreaming of rhubarb, and dreaming of rhubarb inevitably leads to strawberries. We’re not there yet. Still, I’m suggesting this is the perfect time for a strawberry fool, the positively summery dessert that combines fresh berries, sugar, and cream. You know where I’m going with this don’t you? Jam. I made this Mark Bittman recipe even easier by making it seasonally appropriate. I just whipped cream and folded it with last summer’s strawberry jam.

I’m including a recipe here, but after I made it with these proportions, I made it without measuring a thing and it turned out just as good. It goes without saying that you don’t have to use strawberry jam, but if you’re using homemade, choose a jam or preserve that didn’t set to stiffly. This will keep your folding job easy.

Strawberry Fool

Yield: 3-4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1/3 cup heavy cream
  • 1/4 pint strawberry jam, at room temperature (I used my homemade strawberry currant jam)

Cooking Directions

  1. In a medium bowl, whip the cream until it forms soft peaks.
  2. Fold in the jam with a spatula and serve.

Notes:

  • In the original recipe, Bittman says you can refrigerate this for up to two hours. I (unintentionally) bought the cream that’s often called “heavy whipping cream” and has added carrageenan. That said, mine stayed in the fridge for over two hours without a noticeable change in texture.
  • This makes 3-4 pretty small servings, but it is quite rich and by that I mean “you’re spooning heavy cream into your face, so you won’t want to do it for too long.”

{ 3 comments }

Rangpur Lime Marmalade

by autumn on March 7, 2012

I am still thinking about this internet thing—how maybe instead of a tree fort where we go to be alone, it’s a tin can phone. We speak into it our secret little things, not sure if the person on the other end will actually hear us right. It’s feels nice that someone is there, but it’s also a little scary.

After your kind words about last week’s post, I am sitting with this internet optimism. The cute metaphors help. It seems I’m not the only one who feels like community and maybe even friends can be made here.

I don’t remember much of what I learned in college. I wasn’t wasted, just stressed and distracted. However, one thing that I haven’t quite been able to stop thinking about are commonplace books. Commonplace books are, as Atlantic writer Alan Jacobs calls them in this piece, “The Tumblrs of an Earlier Era.” They were essentially scrapbooks where folks copied quotations, letters, poems, recipes, and remedies: stuff they wanted to remember. Sound familiar?

 

Commonplace books were a big deal in early America and women especially passed them among themselves, each one adding what they found most valuable. In the end, there was a record and a resource. Isn’t that also what we’re trying to do here? I plan to think of this the next time information overload gets me down.

In that spirit, I am passing along this recipe Rangpur Lime Marmalade. I thought you might need it. Maybe you have a good tree or a good friend that gives you Rangpur Limes without you even having to ask.

Let me tell you, these little gems were made for marmalade. They’re thin-skinned, which is a good thing perhaps only in the case of marmalade. Flavor? They’re puckery with complexity. And so much pectin!

Rangpur Lime Marmalade

Adapted from Hitchhiking to Heaven and Cakewalk. Makes about one pint.

12 oz Rangpur Limes
12 oz sugar
2 1/4 cups water

1. Halve the limes and remove the seeds and pith according to these stellar instructions over at Hitchhiking to Heaven. At the end of the process, you’ll have a bowl with some seeds/juice (throw the pithy “cores” in there too) and a bunch of halved limes on your cutting board. Reserve the little bowl of scraps for later.

2. Slice all of the halved limes lengthwise into quarters, by cutting down the notch you made in the middle. Then begin to cut each quarter crosswise, as thin as you can manage.

3. Once sliced, place the segments in another bowl, catching any juice that collects on the cutting board and adding that to the bowl with the segments as you go.

4. When all the limes are sliced, go back to the little bowl of pith and seeds. Using a strainer covered with cheesecloth, strain the contents so that the juice goes into the bowl of fruit and everything else is captured in the cheesecloth.

5. Tie all these goodies up into the cheesecloth and make a nice, sealed bundle. Throw this in with the fruit.

6.  Over high heat, combine the cut fruit with the water and bring to a boil. Immediately reduce heat to low and simmer for 12 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand for about 6 hours.

7. After 6 hours, remove the cheesecloth bundle and squeeze it in your fist to extract any extra liquid.

8. Add the sugar, return to heat, and cook at low heat until sugar dissolves. Then bring to a boil over high heat. Cook until the mixture has reached the gelling point, as determined by the freezer test.

Notes:

  • With all that pectin, it took this way less time to gel than I expected. I made two batches and it took less than 10 minutes each time. I felt like I may have overshot it a little on the first batch and started checking the second batch much earlier.
  • It won’t ruin your marmalade if you let it set overnight before cooking it with the sugar, but the rinds in the final product will have less chew (and this lady likes chew).

{ 12 comments }

Preserved Rangpur Limes, Two Ways

by autumn on February 25, 2012

There are things that are easier as a grown-up. Not writing the letter “S” backwards is totally doable now. Not wearing half your lunch after eating it—I’ve mostly got that covered. I still tie my shoes in bows and have a gnarly callus on my finger betraying the fact that I never learned to hold my pencil right, but I’m basically rocking the rest of the important stuff.

But, let’s be real, there are a lot of things that are so much harder to do as a grown-up.  Like crying when you’re sad instead of, say, taking it out on your fellow commuters: way harder! Screaming out in joy at the top of your lungs? Next to impossible. And—the one that really gets me—making friends gets exponentially more difficult as you grow up.

I’m the tiniest bit fixated on this right now because in the past few months, my two closest friends have moved away and in the months before that even more picked up and left. The last couple years of my life have been a slow-burning friend exodus and now, I’m stuck in a perpetual first day of kindergarten: wanting to make friends, but not quite knowing how.

Sometimes, in my quiet moments, I question the value of this space. I take pictures of food and put them on the internet? Really? However, the connections—the friendships—that I’ve made through my blog are invaluable to me. That’s some serious talk, which I think also gets harder as you grow up.

Do you know Shae over at Hitchiking to Heaven? Shae and I have never met. We know each other from the internet. She lives in California, an enchanted land where citrus grows on trees in people’s yards (!). She sent me a box of rangpur limes that she picked herself, off of her mom’s tree, just because she knew they’d bring me joy. That’s a friend. I was floored, grateful, touched.

Courtesy of Shae, they’ll be some rangpur lime recipes coming your way. The more I worked with these little gems, the more I fell in love. They’re pectin-packed and make marmalading a breeze. I can only describe their flavor as “super-lime” (that’s a Nicki Minaj parody waiting to happen, btw). I couldn’t help but think that their slightly musky scent would be ideal for savory applications, so I preserved some in salt.

I use Marisa’s method as a guide for salt-preserving citrus and it really is as easy as it sounds. I sterilized two quart jars (although it’s my understanding that it’s not 100% necessary to sterilize, I usually do) and let them dry completely. I made two smaller batches, of about 5-6 limes each. What I love about this method is that it’s totally versatile. For one little batch, I followed Marissa’s instructions and preserved them plain with just kosher salt. For my second little batch, I was inspired by this fancy product and mixed some aromatics throughout—a bay leaf, 1 T juniper berries, and 1 t dried lavender buds.

Of course, I am sharing this with you before having tasted the results. I am nothing if not impatient. They need about a month in the fridge at this point, but their smell after a few days on the counter was unbelievable. I’ll report back in a month or so (if I can manage to wait that long) with the final verdict.

(PS: There was a sale on instant film recently that I couldn’t pass up, so I’ve been giving my Polaroid some love. The first two photos in the post were taken with this Impossible Project film. Read more about what they’re doing here and, yes, I did accidentally take that photo of myself while loading the film. You’re welcome.)

{ 12 comments }

Gluten-free Beer Cocktails and Dogfish Tweason’ale

by autumn on February 18, 2012

When I had to go gluten-free, beer was something that naturally phased itself out of my diet. The truth is, I had tasted decent beer and found a lot of the gluten-free options to be sadly lacking (save for one splurge-worthy favorite). I learned more about wine and started exploring the world of cocktails.

Still, I keep my eye out for new gluten-free beers coming on the market, hoping to be pleasantly surprised. Recently, Dogfish Head Craft Brewery contacted me to try* their new (it’s available now!) seasonal brew Tweason’ale, a gluten-free beer made with sorghum, strawberries, and buckwheat honey.

One thing that made me happy before I even opened the bottle (besides this adorable packaging) was the gluten-free certification, which I hadn’t remembered seeing before on a gluten-free beer. More importantly, this stuff is good. And it sounds good right? Sorghum, strawberries, and buckwheat honey sound delicious whether you’re gluten-free or not. I love that Tweason’ale feels like an awesome craft beer, made from ingredients that pair wonderfully together, but happen to be gluten-free.

Common complaints about gluten-free beer are that it can be bitter, sour, or very one-note. Tweason’ale is balanced and the flavor is multi-layered, much more so than other gluten-free beers I’ve had. The beer purists will have to forgive me because once I got my hands on this good gluten-free beer, I couldn’t resist trying this beer cocktail that I’ve had my eye on forever.

This is a Shandy made with 5 parts Dogfish Tweason’ale, 1 1/2 parts of my beloved St. Germain, and garnished with a lemon wedge. I was skeptical of dumping something as floral as St. Germain into beer, but this is one of the best cocktails I’ve had in a long time.

I was inspired to keep experimenting. The picture at the top of the post is a cocktail based on a brunch drink at The Breslin called “The Beggar’s Banquet.” I’m calling mine the “Beggars Can’t Be Choosy.” It is the juice of 1/2 a lemon, 1 1/2 oz bourbon (I used Knob Creek),  and 3/4 oz maple syrup stirred together and topped off with St. Peter’s Sorghum Ale. Turns out, gluten-free beer cocktails are possible and delicious.

*The folks at Dogfish sent me this beer for free to try, but my opinions are all my own (and my opinion is they did a great job on this beer).

{ 5 comments }

Candied Mandarinquats with Bourbon and Ancho Chile

by autumn on February 11, 2012

I am currently under blankets and I am so not the cold girl. In fact, I pride myself in not being the cold girl. I’ve got some “uphill both ways” type of stories about cold. Did you know that school buses can’t run when it’s below -20 because their fuel turns solid? Stories that start like that and end with me walking home from the bus stop and trying to figure out how the hell to get to school. So it takes a little bit for me to complain about the cold.

This time of year, even in this mild winter, blanket time is medicinal and has nothing to do with body temp. I haven’t been getting enough vitamin D, that holiday that stresses out everyone is coming up, and there’s been some serious kitchen drama in my life this past week. Solidified salad dressing? Check. Oozing peanut butter pie? Definitely. Freakishly mushy sweet potato? That too.

The remedy for the February uglies is sometimes as simple as getting back into bed and when you get out—and you do need to get out—follow the words of a very wise man and “treat yo self.” Seriously though, buy yourself a present. Make it small, but make it good. I bought five little mandarinquats, four rangpur limes, and three bergamots at this crazy place. I felt a little bad about it afterwards (because, no, I didn’t really need fancy, over-priced citrus), but I’ve gotten so much joy out of them! Besides joy, I’ve gotten a rangpur lime syrup (+ cocktails), bergamot marshmallows, bergamot infused vodka, and these candied mandarinquats. Plus, there’s a small but precious batch of bergamot marmalade in the works.

As far as recipes go, this one barely qualifies. Candied citrus sounds quite fancy, but is just so darn easy. I cobbled together my own little technique after looking at a few of the many candied kumquat recipes that are out there. If you can’t get your hands on mandarinquats (and who can besides this guy) please consider this inspiration for your own candied citrus. We made a mean bourbon soda with a couple spoonfuls of this at the bottom of the glass. I’ve been imagining it over ricotta, but have been eating it straight out of the jar.

Candied Mardarinquats with Bourbon and Ancho Chile

Ingredients

  • 9 oz mardarinquats
  • 2 T bourbon
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup water
  • 1/4 t (or more to taste) ancho chile powder

Cooking Directions

  1. Wash and slice mandarinquats into about 1/8 inch thick little wheels, removing the seeds as you go. Discard seeds and set fruit aside. (If you're not sure if your citrus is organic, dump boiling water over it and scrub it well before working with it.)
  2. Combine bourbon, water, and sugar in small saucepan over high heat and bring to a boil.
  3. Add mandarinquats and ancho chile and return to a boil.
  4. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook until the peels are translucent and liquid is syrupy, about 25-30 minutes. Your eye is more important than the clock here, as cooking time varied widely in the recipes that I looked at.
  5. Taste and add more ancho chile if you'd like. I ended up adding closer to 1/2 t.
  6. Let cool to room temperature and refrigerate.

{ 8 comments }

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