Posts tagged ‘Recipe For Disaster’

Pork Loin with Fennel, Chile and Garlic Roasties

Sunday roast isn’t so much of an American thing, is it? Occasionally my mom would put a pot roast and some chopped carrots and potatoes in a crockpot before going to church so we’d have a meaty early dinner but that was infrequent. While briefly in Wales this summer, Sunday carvery seemed to be a thing; restaurants and pubs would serve lamb, beef and pork roasts with various mushy vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and sauces. This month’s Olive had a Sunday roast feature, which we attempted to adapt to American cuts and ingredients.

My love of Western Beef is no secret, it’s my go-to all-purpose supermarket. They were hyping up pork shoulders for 68 cents per pound over the PA, but they were paired two to bag, which is excessive even for a household with two fridges. But damn, that’s cheap. Think of all the carnitas you could fry up. (I know, I know, low cost meat equals grotesque practices but I’m a grocery store girl. As charming as they sound I’m phobic of $8.50/lb humane organics as well as old school butchers. What you never hear about are those live animal markets scattered throughout the outer boroughs.)

Where else can you find prepped, ready-to-use goat meat, tripe and cow feet plus red currant jam (the makings of future cooking projects) all under one roof? Western Beef’s apt slogan “We know the neighborhood” plays out in Polish shelves stocked with jellies in hard-to-find flavors (currants are totally un-American) and the recent addition of Bosnian canned goods. No fresh tarragon or Yukon gold potatoes, though.

James was convinced that they wouldn’t have fennel. I guessed that they would but that there would be trouble at the checkout. Cashiers not recognizing lesser purchased produce can sometimes work in your favor, they’ll just give it to you cheap. As our cashier was ringing up our goods, I caught her glancing at the frondy bulb and stealthily avoiding it. Eventually she had to pick it up and asked, “What is this?”

Me: Fennel. F-E-N-N-E-L
Cashier: F what?
Me, slower: um, F-E-N-N-E-L

No luck, she finally had to ask another cashier who tried to ignore her question then admitted that she didn’t know what it was called. After a spell a male employee sauntered over and bluntly declared, “Anise, it’s under A” That’s so not right and everyone looked at us like we were delusional and making words up. I guessed maybe anise was a Caribbean misnomer since even in Spanish fennel isn’t anise, it’s hinojo.

Bastardized terminology was the theme of this meal. I can’t bear to type chilli so I’m sticking with chile but I’ll leave their roasties, which appear to be roasted potatoes. And the recipe called for maris piper potatoes, a British spud. I also substituted baking dish or roasting pan for roasting tin. That’s just wrong. Pork loin on the bone that’s been “chined” was too esoteric so we substituted a boneless, skin on pork loin and cooked it for a shorter time. And don’t get me started on Celsius oven temperatures and milliliters (or calling desserts puddings then shortening that to pud).

When all was said and done, we ended up with an unusually seasoned roast, very spice rich but not spicy hot. It might’ve been slightly overcooked, partially due to tweaking the cooking time and not having the bone-in cut. The potatoes were actually the best part of the meal but anything slowly browned in large quantities of butter olive oil is bound to be pleasing.

P.S. A few slices of pork, a couple fennel wedges and a swipe of Dijon mustard between two slices of french bread makes a great lunch sandwich.  I'm saving $7 by avoiding Pret a Manger this very minute.

There's nothing like the glow of a TV to illumimate a plate of food.

Pork Loin with Fennel, Chile and Garlic Roasties

2 pounds boneless pork loin with skin scored
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
½ teaspoon, crushed dried chiles
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
2 garlic cloves
Zest of one lemon
Maldon sea salt flakes
3 fennel bulbs, trimmed and cut into wedges
1 tablespoon olive oil

Garlicky Roasties
3 pounds firm white potatoes, peeled and quartered
4 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 crushed garlic cloves
1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Gravy
1 tablespoon flour
1 ½ cups Marsala or white wine
2 ½ cups chicken or vegetable stock

Heat oven to 350 F. Pat the pork dry with paper towels and put into roasting pan. Using a mortar and pestle, pound together the fennel seeds, chiles, peppercorns, garlic and lemon zest and work the mixture into the slashes on the pork skin. Sprinkle the salt, rubbing well into the skin.

Boil the potatoes in salted water for 10 minutes and drain well. Give them a really good shake to rough up the edges. Heat the butter and olive oil in a separate baking pan. Add the potatoes, season with salt and toss to coat in the hot fat. Roast the pork and potatoes for 20 minutes then arrange the fennel around the pork and drizzle with olive oil. Cook for a further 20. Add the crushed garlic and parsley to the potatoes and cook for a further 10 minutes until golden brown and crisp.

Remove the fennel from the pork dish and keep warm. Transfer the pork to a clean pan, turn the oven up to high and return the pork to the oven for 10 minutes to crisp up the skin. Meanwhile make the gravy. Drain all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the pork roasting pan and put over low heat. Add the flour and cook for 30 seconds. Pour the wine into the pan and bring to a boil scraping any carmelized bits from the bottom of the pan. Reduce by half and then add the stock and simmer for 5 minutes. Season and serve with the pork, fennel and potatoes.

Serves 6

Follow

Share on Tumblr

Sunday Night Special: Black Bean Shrimp & Braised Eggplant

I take back what I said not too long ago about Sundays not counting calorically. After last weekend’s Super Bowl (I just realized that Superbowl isn’t one smooshed word, and I’m not about to go back and fix it) Sunday bounty, I had to cool my jets this weekend with healthy Chinese inspired recipes from A Spoonful of Ginger, a practical cookbook that tweaks Asian classics while retaining the spirit of the original. I should really use it more often.

I tweaked Nina Simonds adaptation of steamed shrimp with black bean sauce and substituted scallops. I didn’t have plain black beans but a prepared sauce that already contained garlic so I added slightly less of that ingredient. You briefly bake the seafood in a foil-covered dish, then allow it to steam for about ten minutes. Of course, I could’ve just used a steamer, but it’s one less thing to worry about on stovetop in a cramped kitchen. Supposedly, fermented black beans are good for depression, stress and ridding toxins. It couldn’t hurt to eat them every now and then.

A curried pumpkin dish was suggested as a side but I thought a stewy eggplant braise would be better. I spruced up the recipe by adding a small handful of chopped cilantro and a drizzle of chile oil at the end. The two layers of chile heat really popped and the eggplant was way more unctuous than you’d expect with the tiny amount of fat that was used. Hmm, the side note accompanying this recipe is a little less appetizing than the relieving depression bit from the former. It says that eggplant is used to ease bowl movements with hemorrhoids in Chinese medicine. Good to know, huh?

Baked Black Bean Shrimp

2 pounds large shrimp (16 to 20 per pound), shelled and deveined
Shrimp Marinade:
3 ½ tablespoons rice wine or sake
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger

1 tablespoon canola or corn oil

Seasonings:
2 tablespoons fermented black beans, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons minced scallions, white part only
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes

Sauce:
¾ cup chicken broth
2 ½ tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine or sake
1 tablespoon sugar
1 ½ teaspoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons minced scallion greens

Rinse the shrimp, drain, and pat dry. Using a sharp knife, carefully cut along the back and open each shrimp to butterfly it. Put the shrimp in a bowl and add the marinade. Toss lightly to coat, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Arrange the butterflied shrimp shell side down, with the flaps open, in 1 or 2 heatproof quiche or pie pans.

Heat a wok or heavy skillet over high heat, add the oil, and heat until very hot. Add the seasonings and stir-fry for about 10 seconds with a slotted spoon or spatula until fragrant. Add the premixed sauce and cook, stirring, to prevent lumps, until it has thickened. Then spoon the sauce over the butterflied shrimp and cover with aluminum foil. (Alternatively, you may place the fish pan in a steamer over boiling water.)

Bake the shrimp on the middle rack for about 8 to 9 minutes, or until they have become opaque. (Steam for 10 to 12 minutes.) Uncover the pan and sprinkle the minced scallion greens over the shrimp. Serve immediately with steamed rice and a vegetable.

Serves 6

Saucy Braised Eggplant

1 1/2 pounds eggplant, ends trimmed, and cut lengthwise into 1/2-inch thick slices
1 teaspoon salt

Seasonings:
1 1/2 teaspoons hot chile paste
1 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 1/2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger

Braising Liquid:
1 1/2 cups chicken broth (vegetable broth can be substituted)
2 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 1/2 tablespoons rice wine or sake
1 tablespoon Chinese black vinegar or Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch

1 tablespoon canola oil
2 cups red onion cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 medium red pepper, cored, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 tablespoons minced scallion greens

Arrange eggplant slices on a cookie sheet lined with paper towels and sprinkle both sides with salt. Let them sit 1 hour, then pat them dry and cut into 1 1/2-inch-long pieces.

Prepare the Seasonings and mix the Braising Liquid ingredients in a bowl. Set by the stove.

Heat a large flame-proof casserole or Dutch oven. Add the oil and heat until hot. Add the chile paste and stir-fry for 5 seconds over high heat, then add the other seasonings and stir-fry until fragrant. Add the red onions and sauté about 1 1/2 minutes, then add the red pepper and sauté another minute. Add the eggplant cubes and stir-fry for 2 to 3 minutes.

Add the braising liquid, cover, and heat until boiling. Reduce the heat to medium, cover, and cook about 12 to 14 minutes, or until the eggplant is tender. Uncover, increase the heat to high, and cook until the sauce is reduced to a glaze. Transfer to a serving platter and sprinkle with the scallion greens.

Serves 6

Recipes from A Spoonful of Ginger by Nina Simonds. Knopf, 1999

Follow

Share on Tumblr

Sunday Night Special: Superbowl Snacks

Though sometimes I’m tempted to go a little overboard with ingredients and preparations, I decided that highbrow was no way to go on Superbowl Sunday. It’s just wrong, and with thirty or so guests (of varying acquaintance levels) crammed into a not large living room (and Rich who annually takes over our tiny kitchen with his big production Cincinnati chili), it’s also impractical. Crowd pleasing is wiser than challenging or exquisite. Originally, I wanted to only make Kraft recipes but I couldn’t bring myself to put Miracle Whip in a pecan-crusted cheesy football.

James manned the deep-fryer and made classic buffalo wings followed by a few batches of fried chicken as the evening wound down. We were thankful for the chocolate mousse cake brought from Bay Ridge’s Aunt Butchies. But I cracked it out a bit late, after people started leaving, and now I have nearly half the cake in the refrigerator (I thought my 2007 plan to slowly lose half a pound a week would be ridiculously easy, yet last week I gained weight. Why can some people peacefully coexist with baked goods and fried food while others lose their shit?).

I’ve wanted to make some version of bacon-wrapped dates for a while (ruamki too, but no one will eat chicken livers) but it’s not the type of thing you whip up for yourself. There appears to be an east west debate over this snack: A.O.C.’s version with parmesan or Red Cat’s take with a goat cheese and almond stuffing. The goat cheese sounded messier to prep so I went the hard cheese route but substituted manchego and used fresh jumbo dates from Sahadi’s that you could eat like candy (I totally don’t understand date haters—they’re definitely my favorite dried fruit). I also picked up a half pint of hummus and baba ganouj. Sure, I've made both from scratch before and considered doing so this Sunday along with some salsa, but really, during tv watching events involving lots of alcohol it's not worth the effort. Plus, Sahadi's versions are better than my homemade style, and tomatoes aren't in season, anyway.

At least one meatless dish seemed in order since I was expecting around five vegetarians. Keeping with the simple, non-fancy theme, I went with monterey jack and corn quesadillas. A little boring and inoffensive, though I spruced them up with a quick side dip using sour cream, lime juice and a chopped chipotle. Easy.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

Sunday Night Special: Green Fish Curry & Spiced Carrots

It’s strange that there were two Costco stories in the New York Times on Sunday. Technically, only one, “Spending: 24 Rolls of Toilet Paper, a Tub of Salsa and a Plasma TV,” was specifically about Costco. But they did choose to illustrate the article about Islam in the suburbs with an imam, his wife and a giant bag of Tostitos. And also printed one of my favorite quotes ever:

“The Prophet said, ‘Whoever is frugal will never suffer financially,’ ” said the imam, who shops weekly at the local store and admits to praying for its owners. He smiled. “These are the people who will go to heaven.”

So telling that he speaks fervently of a New Jersey location. I don’t know if anyone affiliated with the Brooklyn branch (that he apparently had the good sense to stay away from during his many years in Bay Ridge, just one neighborhood away from the borough’s only Costco) will be seeing pearly gates in their future.

James got up early and ventured to the soul-sucking Sunset Park location for Superbowl wings. I stayed in bed because I don’t do NYC Costcos (while still crowded, the one in Edison, NJ is a dream. They have a huge wine department and you can actually get samples because in the suburbs customers aren’t deranged and mobbing for slices of Uncrustables, thimble-sized paper cups of squash soup, organic apple wedges and kielbasa slivers).

Later in the afternoon, I did naively try to run in and out of the Red Hook Fairway for a few items. Big mistake. I ended up sweaty and angry and minus dashi and pita bread (though I had an epiphany in the organic baking aisle where I accidentally ended up after being shoved around a bit. I’d been looking for frozen grated or shredded unsweetened coconut, which you sometimes find in Asian shops and frequently find in Latin American stores. Neither exists in Carroll Gardens and the bag I had stashed in the freezer had gone bad and tasted like earwax. I’m glad I tested a pinch before using it. But you can find non-frozen shredded coconut with no added sugar near things like Newman-O’s and spelt pasta, if you happen to have those types of groceries where you shop. I try to stay away from such things).

I haven’t posted one of these look at what I made missives in a while because I haven’t done any heavy-duty weekend cooking lately. I decided to take to the kitchen this Sunday, primarily as procrastination tactic. I’m supposed to turn in some writing by end of month but would rather tackle Indian recipes than come up with punchy ways to describe non-descript dining rooms.

I bought Mangoes & Curry Leaves some time ago, and while it’s pretty to look at I haven’t cooked a single thing from the book (there might be a correlation between glossiness and perceived usefulness. Years ago I received a paperback review copy of Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweetand cooked from it a ton. Maybe if I had the whopping, coffee table version I would’ve been hesitant to use it).

I’ve been trying to eat more fish and use up forgotten freezer items so green curry tilapia was perfect. I had everything I needed except the above-described shredded coconut. The curry leaves I’d frozen ages ago seemed to have held up ok. When I was in Kuala Lumpur I visited a family that had fragrant things like curry leaves and pandan just growing in their backyard. While no fan of farming or gardening, it would be pretty cool to just step outside and snip or pluck what you need for any given recipe. I swapped flounder for tilapia because that’s what I happened to have.

The recipe ended up being more labor intensive than I’d anticipated but that’s often a hallmark of a chosen Sunday meal. I took the suggested side dish literally and made spiced grated carrots, which furthered my thrifty use things up theme. I’m scared to death of mold and passed pull by dates but I had a full fat Fage yogurt in the refrigerator that had expired four days earlier that I couldn’t bear to toss out because it was $1.79 (20 cents cheaper at the weirdo desolate Italian store on Court St. than at the Korean deli next store). I didn’t realize it wasn’t the 2% version until after I bought it and couldn’t fit it into my recent strict-ish eating regimen without like not eating breakfast, lunch and snacks for a day. So, it smelled and tasted fine (I’ve gotten a bad Greek yogurt, it’s pretty unmistakable) and I was thrilled to save it from the trash. In case you were wondering, I don’t worry about fat grams and calories on Sundays (honestly, I don’t worry about them half as much as I should during the week either. I’m not a Cathy about what I consume and you couldn’t pay me to eat Tasti D Lite. I’m not buying that Pinkberry bullshit either—frozen yogurt is not food). Sheesh, it’s the day of rest.

The two dishes were a smart pairing. The fish was hotter than I’d expected (I didn’t seed the chiles), sharp flavors slightly mitigated by the 4 tablespoons of butter/ghee you use for “tempering” the dish. The carrots were sweet and tangy. Both had earthy qualities from the black mustard seed and curry leaves. Unfortunately, I forgot that in a moment of hippiness I bought brown basmati rice at Trader Joe’s. It actually has a nice chewy quality and psychologically counterbalanced the butter and yogurt that laced everything else on my plate.

I took quite a few photos of this meal, but no matter what they came out mildly unappetizing. I'm not sure if that's due to a lack of plating or photography skills.

Tilapia Green Curry

Ingredients
About 1 1/2 pounds tilapia or other fish fillets
1/4 cup coconut oil or vegetable oil
2 teaspoons black mustard seeds
1/2 cup fresh or frozen curry leaves
2 cups water (1 cup if using tomato)
4 to 6 pieces fish tamarind, or substitute 1 cup chopped (preferably green) tomatoes
1 1/4 teaspoon salt

Masala Paste:
3 tablespoons chopped ginger
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1/2 cup chopped shallots
6 green cayenne chiles, seeded and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup packed coriander leaves and stems
1/2 cup fresh or frozen grated coconut, or substitute dried shredded coconut mixed with 1 tablespoon water
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon turmeric

Tempering:
About 4 tablespoons ghee or butter
4 to 6 fresh or frozen curry leaves
1/2 cup sliced shallots
2 tablespoons minced garlic or garlic mashed to a paste
3 green cayenne chiles, stemmed and cut in half

Rinse the fish fillets, cut into 2-inch pieces, and set aside.

To prepare the masala paste, place the ginger, garlic, shallots, chiles, and fresh coriander in a food processor, mini-chopper, or stone mortar and process or grind to a coarse paste. Add the coconut and process or grind to a paste (if the mixture seems dry, add a little water as necessary to make a paste). Transfer to a bowl and stir in the ground coriander and turmeric; set aside.

To prepare the tempering, heat the ghee or butter in a medium heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Toss in the curry leaves, wait a moment, then add the shallots and garlic. Lower the heat to medium and cook until starting to soften, for about 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the chiles and cook until the shallots are very soft and touched with brown, about 5 minutes more. Set aside.

Heat the oil in a wok or karhai or a heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds, and when they have popped, add the curry leaves and masala paste. Lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the oil rises to the surface, about 5 minutes. Add the water and fish tamarind or tomatoes and bring to a boil. Add the salt and the fish and simmer, turning the fish once, for 3 to 5 minutes, until just barely cooked through.

Add the tempering mixture and simmer for a minute, then serve hot.

Serves 4-5

Spiced Grated Carrots, Kerala Style

Ingredients
2 tablespoons raw sesame oil or vegetable oil
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
Abuot ½ cup minced onion
¼ teaspoon tumeric
1 tablespoon minced ginger or giner mashed to a  paste
2 green cayenne chiles, slit lengthwise and seeded
About 10 fresh or frozen curry leaves
3 to 4 medium carrots, coarsely grated (About 1 ½ cups)
½ teaspoon salt, or more to taste
Coarsely ground black pepper (optional)
About ½ cup plain yogurt, preferably full-fat

Heat the oil in a medium heavy skillet or a wok or karhai over medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds and partially cover until they pop, then add the onion and turmeric and stir-fry for 2 minutes. Add the ginger, chiles, and curry leaves and stir-fry until the onion is very soft, about another 5 minutes. Toss in the carrots, salt, and pepper, if using. Stir-fry for about 5 minutes, or until the carrots are very soft.

Turn the heat to very low. Add the yogurt and stir for a minute or so to warm the yogurt through and blend flavors; do not allow it to boil.

Serve in a shallow bowl.

Serves 4

Recipes from Mangoes & Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. Artisan, 2005.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

Sunday Night Special: Rabbit Etouffée & Cheese Grits

It’s a two-fer. Man cannot live on pie alone so there had to be prequel to the baked apple dessert. Around Thanksgiving I was surprised to see rabbit prominently displayed on an end shelf in the walk-in meat locker at Western Beef. I don’t recall seeing it there before, but really, I’ve never looked. Rabbit’s a weirdo meat (though hardly in the realm of pony flesh) that I’d order in a restaurant but don’t consider cooking at home. But I think that’s just because it’s not typically in stores (I thought I was remembering incorrectly, but I could’ve sworn being mesmerized by a tidy box labeled Pel-Freez Rabbit in the lean-over not stand-and-face freezer case when I was a kid. I used to wonder if it was really rabbit or a misnomer like Welsh rabbit. I’m thrilled to see that this product is real) that I patronize.

Presented with the opportunity, we had to snatch a plastic-wrapped hare up to freeze for later. Later came last night when we decided to give it the etouffée treatment. Many rabbit recipes could be interchangeable with chicken. Matched with the recommended cheese grits, this was a rich, Cajun-ish (I won’t say Creole since that’s become hotly debated in the past month) stew that seemed just right for rabbit. Of course, practically any protein would taste good smothered in buttery bacon laced gravy. I didn’t notice until after starting the recipe that it was from Jacques-Imo’s (their website hasn’t been updated in eons and was as such pre-Katrina) a New Orleans restaurant that cooks incredibly creamy, sauced and decadent dishes like alligator cheesecake. I knew the rabbit etoufeée would be good based on its roots alone.

Not only have I never made rabbit, I’ve never had a grit set foot in my house either. This recipe combines a pot of quick cooked grains with two types of cheese (I broke down and bought some six-year-aged Quebec white cheddar [there was also a 3 ½ year version and I was torn] instead of going for the cheapo Tropical brand like I might normally do because I don’t eat cheddar with any frequency. That makes no sense, right? My new thing is that if I buy something rarely I can justify spending more on it. Like I don’t eat eggs often so I bought the pricier brown organic ones. I’m still not clear on why brown equals healthier to consumers, though) milk and eggs and gets baked until semi-firm and browned. Grits purists might object, but it was a nice treatment of ground corn.

This very second I’m working the night shift and eating a dreaded grapefruit (yes, I brought other things to snack on—I’m not a total citrus martyr). All I can think about is getting home for a post-midnight snack of grits and rabbit.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

Sunday Night Special: Apple Pie

I hate (well, don’t love) fruit in general, but I hate waste even more so I’ve been trying to come up with uses for the unwelcome 15-pound bag of grapefruit and 10-pound sack of red apples that were recently brought into my house. I ate a grapefruit for breakfast last week and brought apples to work a couple of times but that’s enough. An apple pie seemed like the perfect solution to this un-tasty dilemma. The grapefruit, I’m still thinking on.

I don’t think I’ve ever made an apple pie. Baking has never done much for me, somehow it feels more like drudgery than cooking. Usually, I turn to the web for inspiration but with something so straightforward as an apple pie, I thought I’d paw through my cookbook standards that rarely get used because I’ve outgrown them.

The New Basics Cookbook seemed like a good pie recipe candidate. It was one of the first non-used cookbooks I bought for myself, probably when I was nineteen or so. At the time, I didn’t want traditional like Joy of Cooking (though the new release is on my Christmas wish list) or pathetic like but I was looking for standards and explanations. The soft cover, 849-paged, The New Basics fit my criteria, plus I thought it was terribly sophisticated. Now it reads kind of like a time capsule.

Published in ’89 and purchased in ’91, I probably haven’t cracked it open in a decade (except for the instructions on how to poach a chicken breast). It was written by New York caterers (I just saw Silver Palate jarred sauce at Fairway on Friday so I guess they’re still cashing in) so there is a bent towards entertaining and presentation. The recipes include lots of fruity vinaigrettes, pestos, high-end pizzas (very Wolfgang Puck) and twists like using Asian pears in a waldorf salad and. I wasn’t even familiar with things like kohlrabi, celeriac or sorrel (and I’ve still never cooked with any of those items).

Something that stands out was an hors d'oeuvre called beggars purses, which was essentially a crepe filled with caviar and crème fraiche and bundled up like a mini bag and tied with a chive. I hadn’t given this finger food any thought until the early ‘00s when an old college friend of James’s mentioned that she’d just attended the wedding of a mutual friend who’d married some old rich restaurateur and that they served beggars purses at the reception. This was relayed kind of mockingly like “how ‘80s.” The critical detail that I’m fuzzy on was whether or not the groom was the inventor of beggars purses, which I swear was what this woman said. If so, that’s amusing to me because the recipe in The New Basics was titled Barry Wine’s Beggar’s Purses and the headnote reads, “Barry and Susan Wine have one of the most stunning restaurants in the country, New York’s Quilted Giraffe.” This was a big deal place two decades ago, not that I would know first hand, I was just reading about it in The United States of Arugula. Did this girl marry Barry Wine? Ha, I think she did. I don’t know her name, but Johns Hopkins was the common denominator among this group of people and the Catskills is ringing a bell.

Wow, enough unnecessary asides. (Is not being able to focus on one topic for any length of time and constantly being distracted by unimportant bits an affliction that can be cured with pharmaceuticals? I would be a much more productive person if I could stay on track. And I don’t mean A.D.D., which I definitely don’t have despite hating to wait and take turns and feeling restless—who doesn’t?) I just wanted to make a pie, not a boring pie, and be done with it so I could eat the damn thing. With the addition of grated cheddar and a touch of dry mustard in the crust, the Apple of Her Eye Pie sounded interesting (the name is mildly retarded but many of the recipes in this book are kind of cutesy) without being over the top.

I ultimately had trouble with the crust. It fell apart a little and I had to do some dough spackling on the top so it’s not picture perfect. I must’ve done something wrong because it wouldn’t hold together when I cut it either. Of course none of these cosmetic traumas affected the taste. The overall flavor was sweet and more vanilla-y and candied than I would’ve expected. I suspect sharper green apples (which I do like) would’ve been more fitting but it was lame red delicious that needed using up.

I was excited to be able to get rid of eight apples but it turned out that my pie plates were 9” rather than the 10” called for in the recipe so I had filling overload. I only managed to squeeze in about five apples and now am faced with a plastic container jammed with leftover sweet-spiced fruit.

Apple of Her Eye Pie

PASTRY:
3 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch of salt
8 tablespoon unsalted butter, cold (1 stick)
1/3 cup shortening, cold
3/4 cup sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
6-8 tablespoons ice water

FILLING:
8 tart apples
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla

TOPPING:
1 teaspoons sugar
Pinch of cinnamon

DIRECTIONS:
1. Prepare the pastry dough: Combine the flour, sugar, mustard & salt in a mixing bowl & toss well to blend. Using a pastry blender, 2 knives or your fingertips, cut in the butter & shortening until the mixture forms small clumps. Then add the cheese & work it in until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

2. Sprinkle the water, 2 tablespoons at a time, over the mixture & toss with a fork until the mixture can be gathered into a ball. Knead it once or twice in the bowl and divide it into slightly unequal halves. Wrap both halves & chill in the fridge for 45 min.

3. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

4. Prepare the filling: Peel, core and halve the apples; cut them into 1" chunks. Combine the apples & melted butter in a large bowl. Add the remaining filling ingredients and toss until the apples are evenly coated.

5. Roll the smaller portion of the chilled dough out on a lightly floured surface to form a 12" circle. Transfer it to a 10" pie plate & press it into the bottom and sides of the plate. Trim the dough, leaving a 1" overhang. Reserve any excess dough.

6. Roll the larger portion of dough out to form a slightly larger circle.

7. Fill the pie plate with the apple mixture, mounding it slightly. Brush the edge of the bottom crust with water, then transfer the top crust over the apples, tucking it slightly inside the rim. Trim off any excess, allowing a 1" overhang again. Seal the edges of the crusts together with a fork & crimp decoratively. Trim away any remaining excess pastry.

8. Prepare the Topping: Mix together the sugar & cinnamon. Prick the top crust with a fork in several places & cut a small vent in the center. Brush the top lightly with water & sprinkle it with the cinnamon sugar. If you like, cut out shapes, such as leaves or apples, from the dough trimmings & decorate the top crust with them.

9. Bake until the filling is bubbling and the top is golden, about 1-1/4 hours.

Borrowed from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins. Workman Publishing, 1989.

This was an opportunity to crack out the good china, ok, it was just the $16.99 Tord Boontje for Target dessert plates. I think that was a brilliant choice of designer for Christmas, considering how his style is so naturally wintery. I almost broke down and bought some of his “real” dishes last year. Do you think Target could commission a budget version of this $33,500 chandelier?

The only danger of baking is that if I make a pie, I will eat a pie. I was horrified a few episodes ago on Heroes when The Cheerleader and her mom threw away a batch of cupcakes because they were “too good.” What the fuck? There’s no such thing. And I’m assuming that’s why I don’t have a cheerleader figure. Is that how people (women) live? I’m going ten steps the other direction and plan on using the extra apple filling to make fritters later in the week. I’ve pretty much given up any attempts at health for December. With three weeks left in the year, I’m going to be carefree (or careless, depending on your temperament).

Follow

Share on Tumblr