Summer Morning Rituals

July 16, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ Leave a comment

It’s early yet. Though the day is building and quickly so. Another cool day with another promise of low humidity here in the northern Midwest. I’ve been concerned the tomatoes in the garden wouldn’t grow in this cool weather — don’t they just burst into fat jewels in the sweltering heat typical of July?

Every morning, I wake before six. The breeze coming through my bedroom windows has been so soothing this past week, that it’s been a good half an hour before I’m actually ready to leave my cool sheets and cotton blanket.

Softly I walk into the kitchen, trying not to rouse the rest of the family, I get the coffee started and use the time to empty the dishwasher; put away what I left to dry on the sink overnight.

In the downstairs bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror, run the water cool, let it splash over my swollen fingers and in small handfuls of gratefulness, relieve the night’s sleep from my puffy eyes.

Then it’s into the garden, where I not only survey a new wildflower bloomed bright pink or iridescent purple over night, but I also notice the latest slight of the chipmunks and rabbits — a few tender buds of the rose bush I planted this year, chewed clean off (I finally put up some chicken wire.); one of the red head’s of yarrow — gone.

Back on the deck, the sun getting higher and feeling the weight of my sweatshirt now, I think of feeding my family. Last night, I grilled chicken breasts and kept them absolutely naked. Carrying over Marcella Hazan’s advice to drizzle olive oil on steaks only after they come off the grill, rather than before, because “the scorched oil imparts a taste of tallow to the meat…,” I reasoned I’d do the same with the chicken. I made a lemon vinaigrette from the recipe I found in the recent issue of Cook’s Country. The acidity of the lemon tempered by honey was just right.

I left the vinaigrette on the side, leaving the family to eat their chicken as they please, or as two of my children chose to do, grab their own bowls of cereal instead.

Lemon Vinaigrette, Cook’s Country, August/September 2014

1 small shallot, minced
2 teaspoons honey
salt & pepper (to taste)
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon grated lemon zest, plus 2 1/2 tablespoons (about 1 lemon) juice
2 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil ( I used about 3 tablespoons because I like the flavor of a really good olive oil to stand out in a vinaigrette.)

Put all ingredients in a jar with a tight fitting lid and give a good shake to bring it all together.

Voilà!

The Kitchen Is Quiet

July 9, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 1 Comment

The kitchen is quiet. The garden is wild.

The house is straightened, piano is dusty, four baskets of laundry wait around lightly folded.

The kids in their swimsuits kick soccer balls over the lawn

past dusk, the goal stretches into the neighbor’s backyard.

Cheeks and noses glow pink on their pillows.

Brown shoulders and backs — their bodies tattooed by the sun are lean. They sleep in their beds, so solid must their dreams be, while the cool night air, like a mother’s soft hand,

brushes back their curls (tousled and French Toast – golden) from their smooth foreheads.

The kitchen is quiet, except for clinking spoons in empty cereal bowls, scrunching of cheese stick wrappers, tin foil yogurt lids being ripped off,

peach pits, egg shells hitting the trash can sometimes smacking the tile floor beneath, empty bags of cashews, baby carrots — wadded up like mini basketballs and tossed — all net, but sometimes backboard too, empty jars of peanut butter left for me to wash.

The garden is wild with salad greens, basil, nasturtium leaves (no flowers, but hope is alive), chives, tender green, fuzzy tomatoes grabbed and fondled by four lush, strong, adolescent, hopped-up cucumber plants.

Summer “Vacation” Has Begun

June 25, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 1 Comment

The first weeks of the kids’ summer vacation have been stormy wet, with breaks now and again from a sweating sun making every strand of my middle child’s wavy hair curl up like a fiddlehead. A slow start and yet, I feel like I’m being dragged through this summer “vacation” by my children’s busy schedules: Little League baseball, swim practices, music lessons and martial arts.

I keep replaying a recent Facebook quote that a friend shared: “Have a 1970’s Summer”. For me having begun my life in that decade, that means lots of time playing in the backyard, riding bikes to the park and free-swimming (no lessons) at the community pool, all out from beneath the watchful eye of parents.

Have a 1970’s Summer means, “Go! Outside and play! Just be home in time for supper!”

Because, yes, it is indeed summer vacation for the children, but in-between all the taxiing here and there and back and forth, I must still get basic housework done: laundry, dishes, meals prepped, served and cleaned up. I’m not even talking about the big stuff: cleaning bathrooms, washing floors, dusting, vacuuming, ironing.

Just because school is out for the next couple of months doesn’t mean we stop eating. And some of us in this house would prefer to wear clean underwear. The rhythm of housework is what keeps me grounded throughout the scheduled summer chaos.

Lately we seem to be eating a fair amount of concession stand hot dogs and chicken fingers. Ugh. I really hate that last statement. But it’s true. Rarely have we been home long enough or early enough to enjoy a slow family meal together. The most we’ve done is plop down on the living room floor on a recent rainy late afternoon, watch a movie together and share some popcorn. Which, now that I think about it, was kind of nice.

And easy. Did you know you can make microwave popcorn in a regular brown paper sandwich bag? Just place a 1/4 cup of popcorn kernels (no more, no less) into the bag, fold the top part down once or twice, and microwave for about a minute and twenty seconds. Just like the microwave popcorn you buy at the grocery store: stay nearby and listen. When the popping slows, you’ll know it’s done.

A special thank you to my friend, Kimberly Aimee, over at Badger Girl Learns to Cook at: http://learntocookbadgergirl.com/ for sharing this very simple, life changing tip!

Homemade Pizza Pie

May 29, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 1 Comment

We’ve begun a new tradition around here — Friday Night Pizza Pie and as a result, I have almost gotten over one of my top cooking insecurities — making homemade pizza dough.

Since I don’t believe I ever mentioned to you my list of top cooking inhibitions that I am working to overcome, here you go:

pizza dough
pie dough
bread, biscuits (the rolling and cutting out kind)
pasta

There are other fears but mostly related to my safety and that of my family: to master the art of flambé would make me a rock star with the kids…Look, Mommy is setting the bananas on fire!; to whip up a perfect aioli (this means consuming raw eggs and no trips to the emergency room; soaking and cooking beans to perfect tenderness – creamy on the inside and snappy on the teeth…ooh, yes, and a standing crown roast… and cooking a whole fish (our favorite Chinese take-out on speed dial, just in case).

But for now, I am content with working with yeast and getting my hands doughy. I’ve made this pizza crust about five Fridays in a row and am just beginning to get a feel for the texture of the dough which should be not too sticky and not too dry. I’m getting the knack for kneading. Being sure to pull down the top part of the dough– only a quarter or so of it– onto itself and using the heels of my hands to push it away. Then a quarter turn — clockwise and always in the same direction — and repeat. And, actually I’m losing myself in the ten minutes it takes to knead.

I’ve found myself so focused on the dough and what I’m doing with my hands, upper back and hamstrings, that I’m not thinking of much else. By the way, go easy, I pulled a hamstring doing this a few weeks ago.

Basic Pizza Dough (from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, Marcella Hazan)

1 1/2 teaspoons of active dry yeast
1 cup lukewarm water (should feel like bath water)
3 1/4 cups unbleached flour
Extra virgin olive oil — 1 tablespoon for the dough, 1 teaspoon for the bowl, and some for the finished pizza
1/2 tablespoon salt
A baking stone
A baker’s peel
Cornmeal

Dissolve the yeast completely in a large bowl by stirring it into 1/4 cup lukewarm water. When dissolved, in 10 minutes or less, add 1 cup flour and mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon. Then, as you continue to stir, gradually add 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1/2 tablespoon salt, 1/4 cup lukewarm water, and 1 cup more flour. When putting in flour and water for the last time, hold back some of both and add only as much of either as you need to make the dough manageable, soft, but not too sticky.

Take the dough out of the bowl, and slap it down very hard against the work counter several times, until it is stretched out to a length of about 10 inches (This is when I usually yell out, “Who’s in charge here? That’s right! What’s my name, Pizza Dough?!”) Reach for the far end of the dough, fold it a short distance toward you, push it away with the heel of your palm, flexing your wrist, fold it, and push it away again, gradually rolling it up and bringing it close to you (Think, “Come to me, I love you. No, go away, I hate you! Ok, yes, I love you, now come to me. No, I don’t. Go away.)

Rotate the dough a one-quarter turn, pick it up and slap it down hard, repeating the entire previous operation. Give it another one-quarter turn in the same direction and repeat the procedure for about 10 minutes. Pat the kneaded dough into a round shape. Exhale fully. Feel the stress and tension leave your body. Call your therapist and cancel your next appointment.

Film the inside of a clean bowl with 1 teaspoon olive oil, put in the dough, cover with plastic wrap, and put the bowl in a protected, warm corner. Let the dough rise until it has doubled in volume, about 3 hours. It can also sit a while longer.

At least 30 minutes before you are ready to bake, put the baking stone in the oven and preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Sprinkle the baker’s peel generously with cornmeal. Take the risen dough out of the bowl and divide it in half. Put one of the two halves back in the bowl and cover it while you roll out the other half. Put that half on the peel and flatten it as thin as you can, opening it out into a circular shape, using a rolling pin, but finishing the job with your fingers. Leave the rim somewhat higher than the rest.

Put the topping of your choice on the dough — by now I don’t think I have to tell you that I use only a swipe of plain crushed tomatoes (No Chunks) and shredded mozzarella, maybe thin slices of pepperoni or cooked ground sausage, but nothing, NOTHING green — slide it, jerking the peel sharply away, onto the preheated baking stone.

Bake for 20 minutes (mine are taking only 8-10 minutes) until the dough becomes colored a light golden brown. As soon as it is done, drizzle lightly with olive oil. (While the first pizza is baking, follow the same steps for thinning the remaining dough and topping it, slipping it (jerking it — remember who’s the boss, here) into the oven when the first pizza is done.)

Achieve hero status with your picky family.

Voilà!

Maybe it’s Time For Meatballs

May 8, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 6 Comments

It is such a beautiful morning. Through my open kitchen window, I can hear cars driving on the road beyond the tree line and saws buzzing in the yard behind ours. Birds are talking to each other and these sounds of spring come to me at last on a cool though slightly humid breeze lifting the cobwebs from my winter brain.

The fair weather makes today the kind of day when one might consider firing up the Weber and grilling a burger, medium rare, outdoors. I’m not quite there yet with that seasonal craving. For me, a pot of meatballs in gravy simmering on the stove alongside a giant pot of water rambunctiously boiling and lapping at great big handfuls of spaghetti is what I’m thinking this day begs for.

I’ve been around meatball-making since the day I was brought home from the hospital, only days old and swaddled in a blanket. Being raised in an Italian-American family in Jersey, meatballs are an important part of the Sunday tradition which includes a holy to-do list:

First, Church, followed by a visit to the cemetery to arrange flowers and trim weeds on the graves of loved ones, then to Chickies – the Italian market– for meat, cheese, and bread, then across the street to Frieda’s vegetable stand where we pick fresh peaches out of wooden crates in the summer; lift and drag our Christmas tree home from every winter.

This weekly processional was led by my stocky grandmother, Carmella, followed by my father carrying the groceries and then my sister and I falling behind. The two of us unable to casually walk past cardboard boxes filled with craggy sheets of salted cod would lean our heads and shoulders inside for a peak and a whiff.

In my family the recipe for meatballs is never written down — it’s a little of this and a little of that and mini marshmallow sized pieces of milk-soaked bread in every bite. As I’ve mentioned in a past post, I have upon my baker’s rack, Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, and I have to say, I was aware that she had a recipe for meatballs. But be it pride or a little bit of apprehension over messing with my family’s meatballs, I wouldn’t even look.

But then one day I did, look and I’m looking over both of my shoulders before I tell you this…I will never go back to making my meatballs the same again. Oh Boy! is right.

It’s not so much Marcella’s ingredients, and to be honest, I pretty much stick with what I’m used to: ground beef, garlic, Amen!, Pecorino Romano cheese, fresh parsley, eggs, milk, olive oil, salt and pepper. It’s her technique that has improved my meatballs….Forever!

After placing all the ingredients into a bowl, she doesn’t just splash some milk over the top. She soaks a piece of bread in a little milk in a small pot on a low flame on the stove, which means no more mouthfuls of soggy bread! Then– and this is just genius — after forming her meatballs, she rolls them in fine breadcrumbs just before frying them. And, yes, you have to fry your meatballs before simmering them in your sauce.

Here is my recipe greatly inspired by Marcella’s “Meatballs and Tomatoes”

A slice of good-quality white bread (I used 1/2 cup homemade breadcrumbs I made from Italian bread)
1/3 cup of milk
1 pound of ground beef, preferably chuck
1 tablespoon of onion chopped very fine (I used two cloves of garlic minced instead)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 egg
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese (I used Pecorino Romano instead)
Whole nutmeg * I read that nutmeg deepens the flavor of your ingredients — you shouldn’t be able to actually taste nutmeg in your meatballs if you stick with the scant amount of 1/8 teaspoon freshly grated)
Salt
Black pepper, ground fresh from the mill
Fine, dry unflavored bread crumbs, spread on a plate ( I used store-bought breadcrumbs and spread them in a pie dish)
Vegetable oil (for frying)* I also just read in Cooks Illustrated, I believe that when frying in regular olive oil or vegetable oil there is no taste difference which is good news because vegetable oil is a lot less expensive. Be sure to use your good olive oil when making your meatballs though.
1 cup fresh, ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped, or canned imported tomatoes, chopped up, with their juice. (I used canned whole plum tomatoes and chopped them in a blender.)

Trim away the bread’s crust, put the milk and bread (and I also put in the minced garlic) in a small saucepan, and turn on the heat to low. When the bread has soaked up all the milk, mash it to a pulp with a fork. Remove from heat and allow to cool completely.
Into a bowl put the chopped meat, parsley, egg, tablespoon of your good olive oil, the grated cheese, the tiny (1/8 teaspoon) grating of nutmeg, the bread, garlic and milk mush, salt and several grindings of black pepper. Gently knead the mixture with your hands without squeezing it. When all the ingredients are evenly distributed, shape it gently and without squeezing into 1-inch balls. Roll the balls lightly in the breadcrumbs.
Choose a saute pan large enough to hold all the meatballs in a single layer. Pour in enough vegetable oil to come 1/4 inch up the sides. Turn on the heat to medium high and when the oil is hot, slip in the meatballs. Brown on all sides, turning them carefully so they don’t break apart.
Remove from heat, tip the pan slightly and with a spoon, remove as much fat as floats to the surface. Return the pan to the burner over medium heat, add the chopped tomatoes with their juice, a pinch of salt, and turn the meatballs over once or twice to coat them well. Cover the pan and adjust the heat to cook at a quiet, but steady simmer for about 20-25 minutes. Serve at once!

Voilà!

Maple Granola — Share the Love

April 23, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 4 Comments

I’ve been thinking about something else Alice Waters mentioned when she was in town recently advocating for a healthier food system. Having been brought in to revamp Yale’s student cafeteria, one of the first things she did was reduce the number of commercial cereals that were being offered. Her reasoning was that all these cereals contained the same basic ingredients so she trimmed the offerings.

There’s too many choices as far as what we eat. Let’s just take breakfast for example in my house. Do you want cereal? granola? yogurt? granola over yogurt? oatmeal? how about toast? with butter? butter and cinnamon sugar? strawberry jam? grape? how about peanut butter? No? Then we have Nutella or honey. I could make you an egg — scrambled? hard-boiled? fried? Maybe some fruit — fresh or dried? nuts? pancakes? with bacon or…hmm, that’s funny, we seem to be all out of sausage.

Does any of this sound familiar to you?

When considering a simple, delicious and satisfying meal, one that could, in terms of nutritional value, replace most of the above (fresh fruit stays on the menu), granola comes to mind. (Note: I am not a nutritionist, but given the chance, I would totally play one on TV.) Surprisingly, I came to realize for the first time while writing this post, that my first memory of granola doesn’t occur until my adult life.

Newly married, my husband and I were moving into our first home. It was a crisp, blue-sky day in November when all one needed was a perfectly worn-in sweatshirt. We were sitting on our new front steps, taking a break from carrying boxes, when a neighbor walks up our driveway holding a bag of granola. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” he says, bright as that sun. “Want some granola?”

Thirteen years, three kids, two deceased pet fish — RIP, Winky and Stinky, and 1,000 miles away from that first home later, a friend, in the spirit of true Midwestern generosity, brings me a gift of her homemade granola sweetened with honey from bees raised by another neighbor of ours.

And all I can gather about granola is that it’s a perfect offering of welcome, friendship and celebration. It’s also very simple and quick to make.

Maple Granola (adapted from Willy Street Co-op, my neighborhood’s local market)

Before we begin, granola has five basic parts: fat (here it’s coconut oil), sticky stuff with sweetener and flavorings, oats, nuts and seeds, and finally, dried fruit.

1/3 cup coconut oil

1/3 cup real maple syrup

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

5 cups of old-fashioned oats (not instant or quick-cooking)

1 cup of almonds (or use whatever nut you like)

1 cup of sunflower seeds (I used pumpkin seeds because that’s what I had on hand)

1 cup shredded coconut

2 cups raisins (again, use any dried fruit you like)

Preheat oven to 300 degrees fahrenheit. Combine all ingredients (except dried fruit) in a large bowl. If coconut oil is solidified (as was mine), warm on a stove top with maple syrup, vanilla and cinnamon (you should know, this will smell a-mazing).

Spread mixture out on two parchment-lined rimmed cookie sheets (we’re going for easy clean-up here). Bake for 20 minutes, stirring midway through (I forgot to stir mine and it came out just fine).

Remove from the oven and cool on the pans completely. Add dried fruit and store in a covered container in the fridge.

Voilà!

Makes approximately nine cups –plenty to share! Alice would be proud.

The Pleasure of Work: What I Learned from Alice Waters

March 31, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 3 Comments

Monday, at last. This morning it was time to get the house back from a busy weekend. By ten o’clock, I had fluffed the couch pillows, folded and put away all the throw blankets, stripped the beds and began washing the sheets. I’d dusted and vacuumed, opened the upstairs windows and swept the tile floors. For the past thirteen – plus years this is what I do full-time. I’m a “stay-at-home” mom taking care of house, husband and children and I enjoy what I do.

I need to clarify that last statement….I enjoy doing what I do when I give in to the infinite nature of chores, more specifically the infinity of work. Because we all know that “work” is never done, there is always more to do. Let’s also agree that for some of us our work keeps us from the finite amount of time left for pleasure.

Last week, I had the privilege of being in the same room with Alice Waters, chef and owner of Chez Panisse and the pioneer of California, farm-to-table cuisine. Ms. Waters mentioned that for her, work and pleasure are one in the same. “I love to sweep,” she told a room full of journalists at the University of Wisconsin.

She spoke about how she also loves to wash salad, with her hands, rinsing each leaf under cool water, really seeing the colors, feeling the textures– then laying each leaf out on a towel to dry. This can be a very mundane, Oh-my-God-I-might-shoot-myself kind of monotonous chore. But not to the person who gives in and says, “I am here. This is what I need to be doing right now.” When you don’t feel like work is keeping you from pleasure, it’s easy to simply enjoy or at the very least appreciate the task at hand. Same can be said for doing the laundry — the whites you just washed, dried, folded and put away last week. Here it all is again — back on the floor of your laundry room, waiting for your attention.

I’m not saying I feel this way all the time and be sure if I were to give my husband and children a voice on this right now they would recall more than one occasion where my behavior was a little less Mary Poppins. Where words and phrases flew off my tongue like jetliners greasing an already slick runway, “Alright! Everyone better pitch in and help me out around here! I’ve had enough! How many times have you worn those pajama pants? Once? And they’re in your hamper? Come on, people!” And my favorite? “How did this happen to me? When did I become everyone’s maid?!” Spit. Spot.

But what I’ve noticed is that when I resign myself to what needs to be done, right in front of me — a pile of clean laundry sitting in a basket that begs to be folded, a salad that needs to be prepared before the lettuce begins to wilt — when I just do it, instead of calling a friend to complain about it, the work gets done and I feel calm. Order has been restored. I have started at the beginning of things, again.

This is a simple approach to living. And when I can remember to tackle work with a little love and attention, I am better for it. Alice Waters (and Julia Child before her) has taken a simple approach to preparing and eating good food that begins with slowing down and enjoying the “work” it takes to bring a delicious offering to the table.

Which makes me think, maybe before I try another recipe for a salad dressing, perhaps I should first learn how to wash my greens. Before I attempt to build a four-course dinner, I should learn how to prepare and enjoy a poached egg. Simple.

This week’s Education of a Home Cook is How to Poach an Egg from Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking:

Pour 2 inches of water into a saucepan that is approximately 10 inches in diameter (I used a saucepan that is that same diameter and 5 inches deep). Add 1 tablespoon of ordinary white vinegar per quart of water. Bring to the simmer.

Break one of the eggs and let it slip into the simmering water (I broke each egg first into a small bowl and from there let the egg carefully fall into the water). Immediately and gently push the white over the yolk with a wooden spoon for 2-3 seconds. Maintain the barest simmer and proceed with the other eggs in the same manner.

After 4 minutes, remove the first egg with a skimmer (I used a slotted spoon) and test with your finger — the white should be set; the yolk soft. Place the egg in a bowl of cold water; this washes off the vinegar and stops the cooking. Remove the rest of the eggs as they are done and follow the same instructions as with the first.

Voilá!

Delicious Imperfections–Ruth Reichl’s Brownies

March 16, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 4 Comments

To celebrate my birthday, I tried a new recipe for brownies — “Katharine Hepburn’s Brownies.” I followed the recipe straight from The Gourmet Cookbook, an encyclopedia-sized book, by Gourmet’s editor-in-chief, Ruth Reichl. This sunny yellow publication with its crimson title pulled across the page like satin ribbon, is one of my prized culinary possessions. I simply love its heft and its promise of elegant dinner parties yet to come.

I already have a very, very good recipe for brownies, ironically by Ruth Reichl, but I was in the mood to try something new and since my mother named me after her favorite actress, I felt it was serendipity to come across Ms. Hepburn’s recipe on my birthday.

First thing I noticed was that she uses a mere two ounces of unsweetened chocolate and only 1/4 cup of flour as opposed to the five ounces of unsweetened chocolate and one cup of flour in Ruth’s Artpark Brownies (recipe appears in her memoir, Tender at the Bone, Growing Up at the Table).

Although both recipes deliver rich, chewy, fudgy results, I could not get Ms. Hepburn’s brownies neatly out of the pan! They were so moist that any attempt to carve a nice square ended up as a scoop of brownie.

It was late and my husband and children were seated around our cozy kitchen table waiting patiently for me to serve the brownies, mine with a pink and white birthday candle on top. Feeling their anticipation, I tried even harder to gently cut a perfect square of brownie and release it perfectly onto each dessert plate. The harder I tried — the more I forced these brownies to behave, well, like brownies, the more I failed. This chocolatey dessert wished to keep a much looser, fudgy form.

This is the point in the story where I wish I could tell you that my first instinct was to be calm and in control of the renegade brownies. But instead I can only describe my behavior as an adult temper tantrum. I dropped the knife, used an explicative to describe the mess I had created and sunk my head down into my folded arms that I had flung onto the counter.

My family, aware of my proximity to the garbage can and fearing, I’m sure, for the life of the gooey brownies, grew quiet. And I guess it was this thought that sent me into a sudden fit of laughter, which grew louder as they joined in. I had given up! Just like that, I relented. If these brownies wanted to be scooped, well then, let’s get out the really big spoon and dig in!

This moment of letting go has shown me that in order to grow as a great cook one doesn’t need to turn out perfectly executed techniques and recipes all the time. One needs a sense of humor!

Ruth Reichl’s Artpark Brownies

2/3 cup butter
5 ounces unsweetened, best quality French chocolate
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup sifted flour

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch square baking pan. Melt butter and chocolate in double boiler, over boiling water. When melted, add vanilla and set aside. Beat eggs and salt in mixer. Add sugar and beat at high speed for about 10 minutes, or until the mixture is quite white.

Add chocolate and butter mixture and beat at low speed, just until mixed. Add flour and combine quickly, until there are no white streaks.

Pour batter into baking pan and put in oven. Immediately turn oven down to 350 degrees and bake for 40 minutes. (The normal toothpick test will not work on these brownies, but if you want to try pricking them with a toothpick, it should come out not quite clean.) Do not over bake; these brownies should be fudgy. Makes 12 brownies.

The Education of a Home Cook: This Week’s Tips

February 28, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ 2 Comments

1614429_636592869753918_1347805902_o — Artwork by award-winning, Wisconsin artist, Jamie Heiden; used with permission.
http://jheidenphoto.net/about/

It doesn’t take much to convince me that farmers work hard. Within the past ten months or so I’ve toured a family owned and operated dairy farm where a couple hundred cows need to be milked every day. Every day means every day — through a snow storm, below zero-face-stinging-toe-numbing-arctic temperatures, a tornado advisory; even on Christmas. The health and happiness of these cows are given top priority by the farmers who are determined to take care of the land without the use of pesticides and bring us (home cooks and our families) good milk, cheese and ice cream.

More recently, I had the opportunity to interview a Master Butcher as part of an article I’m writing for a local women’s magazine. We talked mostly about what it means to run a small farm: the back-breaking work, the long hours; but also about the genuine concern and respect these farmers have for the animals they choose (at great financial cost to them) to raise in a humane way. The result is a flavorful cut of meat, the origins of which the consumer knows.

Hard work reaps fine rewards. Whether on the farm or in your kitchen, sometimes taking that extra step, having to wash that extra pot, will lead us to good food that we’ve created with our own hands. There are, however, ways to make our lives in the kitchen easier.

Which leads me to the first home cook tip of the week: let’s get a good digital thermometer so we know exactly when that delicious grass-fed cut of meat is cooked to absolute perfection! As luck would have it, in this month’s issue of Cook’s Country magazine (a publication of the America’s Test Kitchen), digital thermometers were rated and I have the Top model as well as the Best Buy for you respectively:

Thermoworks ChefAlarm Model – TX1100 at $59 http://thermoworks.com/ and Polder Classic Digital Thermometer/Timer Model – THM-362-86RM at $24.99 http://www.polder.com/. These thermometers are hands-free. Perfect for making candy and fresh buttercream frosting as well!

And, because I am continuing to have great luck with Marcella Hazan’s recipes from her cookbook: Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, I need to share my latest lesson learned and last tip for this post: When you’ve grilled your T-Bone steak to your liking, (and while it’s still on the grill) rub a crushed clove of garlic on the bone. This will give your steak a gentle taste of garlic and an amazing aroma will fill the air. Then once you’ve moved your steak onto a plate, drizzle on a little extra-virgin olive oil. Do not put olive oil on your steak before grilling as “the scorched oil imparts a taste of tallow to the meat…” — Marcella Hazan, from her recipe “La Fiorentina –Grilled T-Bone Steak, Florentine Style.

And always, sit back, relax and enjoy a good meal with great company.

From the Baker’s Rack: Winter Reading

February 17, 2014January 16, 2019 ~ Katherine ~ Leave a comment

The snow is coming down. The kids are in school and perhaps together we are staring out our respective windows at the same wintry scene. There is so much on my mind. There is always so much on my mind — but lately thoughts are coming down like fat snowflakes, swirling then piling high around me. The only thoughts sticking are the one or two I manage to catch on my tongue. I am feeling frozen and heavy like the rabbit the kids found in our backyard yesterday. Before someone goes and gets a shovel (or pokes me with a stick as in the case of the poor, stiffened bunny), I need to thaw and make a move– any move and that is the purpose of this post. I am making a move, despite the storm blowing outside, I am keeping everything calm and warm and focused inside. I am getting something written (cue a quiet “hooray!”).

At this moment, the stars seem to be aligned in this cozy, softly lit home. I have my coffee pot back. My little French press met its demise two weekends ago, when my daughter accidentally tried to put a wooden pepper mill down on the counter driving it first through the fragile little pot, sending shards of glass into the bowl of salt I keep next to the stove. I am writing on a new laptop this morning as well. For months I’d been using an old one – a heavy, bulky dinosaur piece of technology, that believe me, you do not want to have on your lap. The heat coming off of it alone gives new meaning to “pants on fire”! I waited patiently (weeks!) for this computer — this light, quick, perfectly unbroken laptop to go on sale and here it is and here I am.

It seems I only know two speeds these days: super-fast, creating a blur of everything around me and sleepy-slow, where I avoid walking anywhere near the couch for fear I may collapse into hibernation. It is the season to slow down, however I need to keep writing, ideally next to a window letting in a stream of strong sunlight. I need to stay on middle ground — keep my fingers moving and trust that I am where I’m supposed to be. There is no other place for me at this moment than with you at my kitchen table.

I also have an “all-or-nothing” type of personality. Either I give something one-hundred-percent effort or I don’t do it at all. These days I’ve been doing a lot of nothing-at-all with regards to my writing. In a clear sign of avoidance (blame it on a lack of Vitamin D?), I’ve been organizing — cabinets, cookbooks, cooking magazines, the linen closet, the kids’ drawers. And each night in bed, I’ve been reading anything about food: Saveur, Bon Appetit, Cooks Illustrated. I’ve cracked open Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, The Paris Wife by Paula McLain, and Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink. I just finished Blood, Bones and Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton and am looking forward to picking up the memoir, A Girl and Her Pig: Recipes and Stories, by JJ Goode and Chef April Bloomfield next.

Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, by the late and beloved Marcella Hazan andmy newly acquired treasure, already has olive oil and butter stains marking the pages of recipes I’ve tried. This instructional cookbook has been compared to Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and both Alfred A. Knopf publications were edited by the legendary Judith Jones. As I’ve read in many reviews, this is the book — the authority on Italian cooking. Any holes in your memory of cooking with your Italian grandmother can be filled by Marcella — the universal Nonna. Rest in peace, you certainly live on in my humble little kitchen.

The snow is slowing down and so am I, but first I’d like to leave you with a few final thoughts: Food is good–even better when you can take the time to taste it. Even better when there is someone with whom to share it. And, it’s a wonderful thing to be able to write about it — to offer not only my food stories, but yours as well. Our memories of meals is something we all have in common, a place in which we can begin again and again.