Posts tagged food

I’m not usually that into cake. I find it boring and dry. Cookies are my sweet of choice, in all their gooey density. Cookies are followed by pie, then ice cream. Cake’s not even in the running. (Brownies aren’t either, really: too similar to cake.)

BUT my husband baked me a pistachio-saffron layer cake for my birthday this weekend (recipe courtesy of Bittman’s How to Cook Everything), and whipped cream with a tinge of with rose water for the frosting — and it was fucking ridiculous. Beyond moist and borderline dense — the winning theory is that the fat in the pistachios was behind the texture. The flavor was perfect: a bit savory, a bit sweet, and all awesome.

And that, friends, just might be the secret to a successful marriage. (Though we’re less than a year in, so I’ll have to keep you posted.)

I made these yesterday to take to my friends’ place and they were, as you might suspect, awesome. Notice I said “were.” That’s right, the whole batch was devoured last night.

The apricot – pistachio combo makes these quite pretty, in addition to delicious. Unfortunately, I didn’t take a picture before they were all consumed.

Adapted from SmittenKitchen’s Thick, Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Deb at SK suggests:

The last trick to getting a really thick, chewy cookie is to chill the dough before you bake it. You can scoop it and then chill it, or, if you’re like us, scoop it, freeze them and store them in a freezer bag so you can bake them as you wish. I find they’re always thicker when baked from the cold — only a couple extra minutes baking is needed.

This is a half recipe. It makes a couple dozen standard-size cookies. (I get more because I make them tinier.) I always feel like I’m swimming in cookies when I make the full volume, but if you’re feeding a crowd, go ahead and double it.

• 1/2 cup (1 stick or 4 ounces) butter, softened
• 2/3 cup light brown sugar, packed (I was out of brown sugar so mashed some molasses into sugar; the end result was closer to a dark brown sugar, which I prefer anyway)
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon allspice
• Seeds of 4 green cardamom pods, crushed
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 cups rolled oats
• 3/4 cup chopped dried apricots
• 1/2 cup pistachios, chopped (optional) (I used salted and they didn’t prove overly salty, but unsalted would be fine as well)

In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar, egg and vanilla until smooth. In a separate bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, black pepper, allspice, cardamom and salt together. Stir this into the butter/sugar mixture. Stir in the oats, apricots and pistachios, if using them.

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).

Chill the dough for a few minutes in the fridge (while oven is preheating) before scooping, or scoop the cookies onto a sheet and chill the whole tray before baking them. If you’re short on time, you could just toss them into the oven warm but apparently this makes them droop a bit instead of offering the ideal thickness.

The cookies should be two inches apart on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake them for 10 to 12 minutes (your baking time will vary, depending on your oven and how cold the cookies were going in), taking them out when golden at the edges but still a little undercooked-looking on top. Let them sit on the hot baking sheet for five minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool.

I made chai buttercream frosting (for pumpkin cupcakes and then reprised for chocolate-spice cupcakes) and chai simple syrup last weekend (for cocktailing). You could say I was on bit of a chai kick.

While working out how to do these things, I did a bit of research on the stuff and learned, to my surprise, that “chai” is actually the word for just “tea” in much of South Asia. What we English speakers usually mean by the word is in fact really called, “masala chai,” and commonly contains cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, black pepper, allspice, cloves, and the like. (Oh, and sugar — how could I forget?)

You learn something new every day, I guess.

Pumpkin chai cocktail, anyone? That’s what I thought you’d say.

I’ve had some pumpkin vodka infusing for a couple of weeks: a liter of Ketel (anything Smirnoff or Svedka and above would be fine), a can of pumpkin, a few whole cloves, cinnamon sticks and black peppercorns. Keep it in a cool, dark place, and shake every so often to mix it up.

I’ve been saving it for Thanksgiving, but couldn’t resist a test run last night. I strained it using a French press. Kind of a pain, and it kept getting stuck in the pumpkin sludge on the sides, but I think it was definitely the way to go. Coffee filters take too long. Cheesecloth would be worth a shot, but I was feeling lazy last night and the French press was closer.

I had made chai simple syrup last weekend: black ceylon tea, cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, black pepper, cloves and allspice, with the requisite sugar and water. Essentially your basic spiced chai, but concentrated and with extra sugar.

Mixed ‘em together, along with some brown sugar simple syrup I had, for good measure, and soda/seltzer* with a sprinkle of lemon zest.

Turns out, not surprisingly, that this pumpkin chai creation = autumn in a glass. Lovely way to spend a Friday night in front of the fire. (It’s OK, you can be jealous that I have a fireplace. Unless you have one, in which case, I hope you used yours last night, too.)

*I’ve discovered a regional disparity with the terminology used for carbonated water. Michigander that I am, I call it, “soda.” Now that I’m in New York, I find that if I order a “vodka soda,” there’s no confusion, but if I order a “soda water,” no one understands what I’m saying. I think people here mostly call it, “seltzer.” I suppose because “soda” is a term reserved for the stuff I call, “pop.”

Considering turning this long-dormant URL into a food blog. For now, this is what I had for lunch today. I had some CSA vegetables lying around, desperate to be used, along with some extra pastry dough in the freezer, so—voilà.

It’s quite pretty in real life; please pardon my lack of photog/art directing skills.

Anyway, let’s get to it.

A note: the eggs are meant as a binder; this is not a quiche or soufflé, or eggy in any way.
Another note: I am approximating the quantities in hindsight. Feel free to edit per your tastes.

• Butter pastry dough (use your favorite or borrow the one I use, below)
• 2 tablespoon butter (or olive oil if you insist)
• 1 onion (red or white), roughly chopped
• 2 cloves garlic
• 2 carrots, peeled and chopped into approximately 1/4” bits
• 1 tablespoon rosemary (dry or fresh)
• 1 bunch Swiss chard, stems separated from greens, all roughly chopped
• 1/2 cup golden raisins (or regular ones)
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Dash of ground cloves
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup milk

Roll out pastry dough to about an 1/8-inch thickness (I find that placing it between two sheets of wax paper to roll it out makes things way easier). Press into pie or quiche pan and refrigerate, covered, until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

Sauté onions, garlic, carrots and rosemary on low heat until vegetables begin to soften, about five minutes. Add chard stems and sauté another three to five minutes. Add chard leaves and cook just until they begin to wilt, a minute or so. Remove from heat and toss with raisins, salt, pepper and cloves. Let cool for 15 minutes or so.

While vegetable mixture is cooling, line the crust with pie weights or beans, and prebake for 10 minutes.

Mix eggs and milk into cooled vegetable mixture and pour all of it in crust. Bake until vegetables are set and crust is lightly browned, 35-40 minutes

Butter Crust (from Gourmet, via Epicurious.com)

• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3 to 5 tablespoons ice water

Yet another note (from JH): I use one of my favorite kitchen tools, a cocktail muddler, to blend pastry dough — works like a charm.

Blend together flour, butter, and salt in a bowl with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse in a food processor) just until mixture resembles coarse meal with some small (roughly pea-size) butter lumps. Drizzle 3 tablespoons ice water evenly over mixture and gently stir with a fork (or pulse) until incorporated.

Squeeze a small handful of dough: If it doesn’t hold together, add more ice water, 1/2 tablespoon at a time, stirring (or pulsing) until incorporated. Do not overwork dough, or pastry will be tough.

Turn out dough onto a work surface. Divide dough into 4 portions. With heel of your hand, smear each portion once or twice in a forward motion to help distribute fat. Gather all dough together with pastry scraper. Press into a ball, then flatten into a 5-inch disk.

Wrap dough in plastic wrap and chill until firm, at least 1 hour.

Ode to Oatmeal: a Haiku

You nourish, delight.
But sometimes, I get so sick
of you, I might puke.

I spend my falls/winters eating oatmeal every morning. It’s easy, warming and satiating. But I forget sometimes how cumbersome it can become. At times I find it repulsive and can’t swallow another bite. I guess that’s a classic symptom of Oatmeal Overdose Syndrome.

In any case, today’s oatmeal featured pecans, cherry jam and a splash of plain yogurt. Delightful.

I guess I’m not quite sick of it yet. (Considering it’s barely fall and I have a long cold season ahead of me, I’m very thankful for that.)