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Calling All Gingerbread Detectives — Christmas Update
- by Nancy, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas Jellypress! Thank you to all our readers who roamed Sherlock-Holmes-style to help us find the dark gingerbread of our dreams. Here’s a picture of one find, Steen’s Pure Cane Syrup, which is from what we understand, the chef’s choice ingredient for any recipe yielding something dark and rich and made with molasses. I shlepped through the slushy sidewalks of Manhattan to get this can at Dean & Deluca but you can also order it online. We are about to test two or three variations of recipes sent to us, some with blackstrap molasses, some with Steen’s. One recipe comes from the late beloved food writer and chef Laurie Colwin and the other is this New York Times recipe sent to me by my beloved sister, Janet. May the baking commence! More pix and updates soon. Thank you again to all who replied and Happy Holiday. We’ve got snow here in the northeast and it’s very pretty and peaceful this morning. Hope it’s a wonderful day for all.
see also: Calling All Gingerbread Detectives
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Calling All Gingerbread Detectives
- by Nancy, December 22, 2009
Just look at it. It’s the Holy Grail of gingerbread. The benchmark. The bar, raised really, really high. Moist. Dark. Intensely flavored. It’s the gingerbread I bought from the Mennonites’ bakery stand at the Reading Terminal Market when I lived in Philly this summer. The bonneted one wouldn’t give me the recipe. So I’m sending out an S.O.S. to all our jellypress readers. I must find a recipe for this wonderful stuff. I found two that seemed promising. I made both. Here’s a picture of them:
On the left: “Grandma Lindner’s Favorite Gingerbread Cake” from Gingerbread (Andrews McMeel, 2009) which required 13 ingredients and exacting, time-consuming steps. On the right: “Molasses Cake” from The Amish Cook’s Baking Book(Chronicle, 2009) which was ready to bake in a minute, all seven ingredients mixed at once in one bowl. Nope. Neither one is the one. Not dark enough. Not fragrant enough. Not intense enough. Not . . . well, it. Can you help? If you can, use the comments link above to send me a recipe or a lead to a recipe and I will pursue it and make it. Send in your best, and watch for future posts to see how the search unfolds. To be continued . . .and in the meantime, if you like a plain molasses cake, perfect for children especially, or a lighter version of spice-y gingerbread that is delicious in its own right, here’s the recipes for the ones I made:
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Old recipe: Modern Child
- by Nancy, December 12, 2009
I made him. It’s Chanukkah after all. Of course he said “no” first. He’s twelve going on seventeen and none of this is cool anymore. Guitars are cool. So are purple high-top sneakers. And video games that block me out. But baking with Mom? “Okay if I have to . . . “ He adored all the fuss as a small child but now that he’s wearing a man’s size ten shoe, he’s forgotten. He’s forgotten a lot of things. How to effuse. How to hold Mom’s hand in public. How to answer questions about his day in more than one syllable. “What did your music teacher say about your concert last night?” “Good.” “That’s all after months of preparing? Just ‘good’?” “Yeah. No. What?” Each night, I worry over the backpack spilled on the floor, the messy school folder. When I look closer, though, I see everything is fine. He has even taken out the garbage and emptied the dishwasher as I requested. Reading by his side while he shoots imaginary aliens with a digital shooter, I’m suddenly amazed at his profile. The toddler’s softness replaced by handsome angles, the unruly copper curls, once so embarrassing they had to be hidden under hats, now worn loose and free. At the counter, leaning over the flour, he was patient, mixing, whisking, measuring. Doing it for me. A kindness. I reminded him how to form the braid. Hand over hand, too big yet for the still-catching-up wrists, he gently lifted each rope of shining dough and placed it just so. And when it was done, he smiled. Such radiance. Over this magical, simple thing, this sweet and homey bread. Happy Hanukkah.
Masher
Food and Eating in Genoa: Once Again
- by Laura, November 23, 2009
I just returned from Genoa for an ever-so brief week there. My soul and belly were filled by pesto and my heart verklempt at the sight of “Little Village” aka Camogli with its trompe l’oeil painted facades, black stone beach, and looming Portofino Mountain. The last time I’d been there was with my boys (oh so grown now) when I was researching my memoir The Lost Ravioli Recipes of Hoboken, questing about for a lost family recipe and trying to get my story straight.
This visit, was for a different mission. (More on that later.) But in the meantime, here’s a glimpse:
Camogli first. Local fishermen (of the Camogli Fishing Cooperative) still go out with little boats and use traditional netting methods.
Salted anchovies are popular in Liguria. You see the fresh silvery ones in bins at the market and on the plate, as here at a place called La Rotunda (also in Camogli).
At La Rotunda, I also sampled a tiny little local fish called rossetti,, smaller than your fingernail, and this excellent octopus salad with potato. (Oh why oh why do I have to drive half an hour to find good octopus?)
Next stop: Da o Vittorio, a very old trattoria in Recco--my great grandparents’ town. Here is the famous Recco style focaccia. It comes out on the huge round platter. I caught this photo just as the last two slices were cut and plated. Recco style focaccia is basically two thin slices of dough baked with hot melting crescenza or strachino cheese between.
See any red sauce yet?
If Genoese food were to have a single color, it would green, green from all the vegetables and herbs. Here are fritters that were perfect--made from an herb-specked leavened dough, deep fried, not greasy in the least, and salted.
So much Genoese cuisine: gathered greens, mushrooms and chestnuts.... comes from the hills and mountains. Here is the view from Enrichetta’s house an hour north of Genoa. (You loyal readers may remember her from Lost Ravioli. She is the mother of my friend Sergio Rossi.. Enrichetta is eighty years old and a former professional cook.
Gnocchi fly off her magic hands in a whir. She made a large batch in twenty minutes.
After a lunch, Enrichetta brought out some rose petal liqueur that she’d made last summer. I almost fainted. Does anyone in the USA makes rose petal liqueur? If so I want to know about it.
Vegetable pies called torte (torta for one) are very popular in Liguria. These--photographed in the seaside town Chiavari--look a lot like the kind my family has always made. “Bietole” means chard.
One of my favorite meals ever: a bowl of Genoese style minestrone at Trattoria Arvigo in a town about 40 minutes north of Genoa in a town called Cremeno.
And of course the thing the Genoese are most famous for: pesto. I wore earrings to match.
Masher
Purple Inspiration
- by Laura, October 29, 2009
1. Wash and slice your little eggplant in half. Salt it now if you like.
2. Heat lots of olive oil in the pan until it is very hot but not smoking. When is it hot enough? When you put a wooden spoon in and the oil sizzles
3. Fry the eggplant on one side until it is golden. Salt it now if you didn’t before.
4. Turn with a spatula and fry the other side. Salt again.
If your garden is in full sun as mine is, it keeps going into November--even here in the Northeast of NJ. The herbs are fading but still quite serviceable. And our broccoli keeps pushing hard. Every day I still eat at least one cherry tomato. But the end is near.
Two small eggplant plants gave us an unremitting amount of fruit. There’s still some out there, and frost will come any night now. Time to collect and cook. This is a lovely way.
Masher
One Badass Cookie — Taiglach for the Jewish High Holidays
- by Nancy, September 20, 2009
Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Isn’t it gorgeous? This is my Great-Grandma Esther Hanna’s taiglach — kind of like caramel ginger walnut bar cookies — that I made for Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year. I live for this stuff and so does most of my family. Just the smell of it cooking brings back . . . okay, I’m getting sentimental here but bear with me . . . my mother’s kitchen in all its glory. Pot lids rattlin’, my Mom in her flowered apron walking on a bag of walnuts instead of chopping them with a knife, as readers of my book will know “so the pieces are small, but not too small . . .”, the dramatic moment when she dipped her hands in ice water to handle the piping hot caramel, all of it. If you don’t know taiglach, I truly believe you are missing out on one of the most Badass of the Badass cookies. I will warn you that it is only for experienced bakers. Lots of directions that say “to taste” or “by feel” and so on, but it’s worth the effort. Once you do it, however the reward is huge. You’ll have entered the collective memory of generations of bakers, and you’ll carry them with you each time you go to bake. That’s a powerful lot of bakin’ hoodoo. So if you’re game, and want to serve something really wonderful after the fast on Yom Kippur next week, read on for the recipe, a link to a cool variation with hazelnuts and almonds, the Badass Cookie tip of the week, and a chance to win Nancy’s book . . . “Shana Tovah!” (Happy New Year.)
Masher
Happy Labor Day
- by Nancy, September 06, 2009
Look what I baked this morning. I’m spending Labor Day with my beloved cousin Jeff and decided to bring this for dessert. It’s a recipe I cut from Mark Bittman’s “Minimalist” column in the New York Times a few years back and it’s been a favorite ever since. It’s the perfect way to celebrate Labor Day and say goodbye to summer fruit, which is still in abundance for a few more weeks, especially the coveted last peaches of September. You can also make this with pears and apples when the north winds really start to blow. For the recipe and a link to Mark Bittman’s wonderful blog, read on. Happy Labor Day. Enjoy.
Masher
Julie & Julia & Me
- by Laura, August 09, 2009
I didn’t think I’d like it. I really didn’t.
I mean, there was enough hype to near convince me that I wouldn’t. I don’t like hype. Come on: a huge puff piece in the NYT 10 days before the movie was even released?
I’d always admired Julie Powell’s chutzpah and clever idea to blog her way a year of cooking over 500 recipes in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.” It resulted in a big New York Times story by Amanda H. And then, naturally a book deal. And though I wished Julie well, I had no interest.
But I saw the food movie tonight. And I didn’t like it. I loved it.
Loved it. And though I know my inner skeptic will kick in later, I’m going to write this blog post and indulge my exuberance right now
Meryl Streep infuses Julia with so much joy and inner beauty that I found myself crying during the cooking scenes. The scenes of Julia’s pure sensual joy over food and cooking it, her undaunted devotion--helped me remember why I spent more than 10 years of my life so fascinated with food.
But I am certain it was also the beauty of Julia, shining through Meryl Streep’s performance that got me: the great six-foot two Julia, gamer, adventurer, bon vivant, comic and artist of her own life who didn’t go to cooking school until she was 37 and didn’t publish her first book until she as 49. There’s been so much fake glamour around food the last twenty years. This movie was, most amazingly, actually about cooking. Cooking! Imagine that. Cooking in your tiny kitchen. Cooking because you want to actually learn the hard skills of the craft. Cooking through failure, like when the chicken slides out on the floor and all the stuffing falls out so that you fall down and cry. Cooking to make something so beautiful that people gather around, transformed by the beauty of it for an ephemeral moment.
And then there’s the love and passion of a good man to help make a woman even greater.... Let me say no more. There--now I’ve contributed to the hype and I’m okay with that. And so, like every review of this movie, I’ll close mine by invoking Julia: Bon appetit!
Masher
Front Yard Vegetable Garden Redux
- by Laura, July 22, 2009
String Beans From the Garden
1. Send your son out with a colander and ask him to collect all the string beans. Send him back when he doesn’t come in with enough.
2. Wash string beans and snip off the tip of the tiny bit of the end with the stem.
3. Steam in an inch of water that is well salted. Let them cook until they get soft but not mushy. Drain and shock in a bowl of ice water.
4. Dress in good olive oil and vinegar. Add more salt if you like. That’s all.
Okay, so I know that every time you hear the hoopla about the vegetable garden on the White House Lawn, you think to yourself “Oh Michelle. That’s so last year. I saw it on Jellypress in 2008”
Well, it is… And we’re back with our front yard garden. And once again it’s beautiful, attracting honeybees by the dozens. We are growing broccoli, lots of tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs and chives, peppers, too, and more. Here are the Japanese eggplant. I was astonished by how beautiful the plant is. Such an ornament for the yard with its purple flowers and stems and glossy fruit.
This year’s new addition: David is growing potatoes in this special potato bin.
Quite the ridiculous yuppie invention, eh? You plant the spuds in the the container only partially filled with soil. When the greens sprout, you cover them with more soil. A week later, when they force themselves through again, you bury them again. Add more soil. This happens successively. Each time the green leaves surface you bury them in soil, and the theory is that it forces more tubers to grow. We’ll see. Of course, people do this in garbage cans and spare tires. But this is so much more attractive. I’m sure Michelle will want one too.
Masher
Kitchen Art — Red Pepper Orange
- by Nancy, June 30, 2009
Can you find the red pepper and the orange in this new oil sketch of mine? Hint: the bird shape is lifted from a very famous Manet painting . . .
Masher
Can Wonder Bread Feed the Masses?
- by Laura, May 14, 2009
In the food world, there has been a huge movement in the last thirty years calling for a rejection of mass produced industrial foods and a return to Oldways--and by this I mean home cooking, authenticity, farmer’s markets, beauty, small scale production, organic, and vegetable gardens at the backdoor (even Michelle Obama has joined). Some have called it a Food Revolution, and unless you have been living in a cave for two decades you know what I’m talking about.
Well, there is another side to the argument. And I can’t recommend enough this fascinating video by Louise Fresco--food and agriculture expert associated with the U.N., who uses the metaphors of Wonder Bread vs artisan whole grain handmade loaf to argue that the foodie nostalgists have completely misunderstood the value of technology, pesticides, and mass production to end poverty and feed the hungry in the developing world.
For some people, this is blasphemy--akin to suggesting that there is no god. I wish people on both sides of this argument would be less passionate and listen to one another.
I suggest watching this video with a very open mind. It’s 18 minutes long so get comfortable. Well worth every minute.
Masher
One Badass Cookie - Lavender Rosewater Cookies
- by Nancy, May 09, 2009
Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone, but this is one of my Mother’s Day presents and I already know what’s in it. That’s because I made it and wrapped it myself. (Giggle.) Doesn’t it look pretty? It’s some of the lavender rosewater cookies that I baked with a group of children to help them make Mother’s Day gifts for their moms, and I made sure to bake extra because these are just too good. When we wrapped up the gifts, I wrapped the ones for me and my colleagues too. If you don’t know this recipe or have never eaten these cookies, you are in for a treat. This dough is so fragrant that raw or baked, it fills the room with a gorgeous scent. One child came into the room where they were being made and exclaimed out loud, “Wow! This room smells amazing! What is it?” When one of my colleagues tasted them she actually whispered to me (so that the children couldn’t hear,) “This is orgasmic.” A cookie that can perfume an entire room and bliss out the taster. Now that’s One Badass Cookie. And perfect for the mom in your life too if you need a last minute gift just about now. Or one to honor yourself. Read on for the recipe, a photo of the beauties in this package, and the Badass Cookie Tip of the Week.
Masher
Kitchen Art — Patrick Caulfield
- by Nancy, April 30, 2009
The English painter, Patrick Caulfield (1936 - 2005) painted this wonderful canvas in 1999 titled “Hemingway Never Ate Here.” I love the irreverence and humor of his Pop Art style, and especially this one with its reply to Zurbaran and his rose benighted teacup that speaks so eloquently in the painting that appeared here in the last Kitchen Art column. Hmmm, wonder if I could continue this conversation in a painting of my own . . . in the meantime, here’s another piece of Caulfield’s, “Still Life: Autumn Fashion.”
see also: Kitchen Art — Zurbaran
Masher
Wild Ramps (aka leeks) You Can Find Online
- by Laura, April 21, 2009
A bunch of wild ramps (aka the wild leek of the forest floor, beloved in Apalachia)
A few slices of bacon
Some potatoes cleaned ad sliced thin.
Salt and pepper.
Use your judgment and taste preference on all these qualities.
1. Wash the ramps, taking care to remove any grit or dirt. Pat dry and cut away the stem and white parts. Cut into two-inch pieces.
2. Fry bacon until crisp and fat is rendered. (If you’re worried about clogging the families arteries like I am, pour off most of the bacon fat so you’ve got the bare minimum you need for flavor then replace it when enough olive oil to fry your potatoes. If no member of your family has high cholesterol, then by all means skip this step and have fun frying your potatoes in bacon fat.) Remove bacon and set aside.
3. As if it isn’t obvious now, add your potatoes. Add some salt--a little or a lot. As you see here, I pulled down my iron skillet, which I hadn’t used for a long time. Gosh you forget what a beautiful job it does browning potatoes so quick and perfectly.
4. When potatoes are getting there, add ramps. Enjoy the fragrance as they soften. Add more salt as needed. And some pepper, too.
5. Cook this until potatoes are brown and ramps are soft and delicious. Now break up the bacon into bite size pieces and return to pan. Cook a little more. You’ll know when it’s done.
Last year, a friend gave me a bunch of wild ramps she’d gathered from the forest floor in Upstate New York State. This was my first encounter with the beautiful wild leek of Appalachia fame. You can click and read my post from back then, and find out all about the history of ramps and coalminers in West Virginia and their annual community ramp suppers, and folklorist Mary Hufford’s work with the people of Big Coal River Valley. A beautiful story.
But I’m writing about ramps again now because I’ve decided to hereby anoint them as the official Earth Day Dish of America if someone hasn’t already. There are many reasons for this. First of all, ramps have had their forests and land threatened by mining and development. But also, what could be a better Earth Day vegetable than a wild onion? A green creature of the forest. The first sign of spring and hope.
There’s about one week left to order farmed ramps directly from West Virginia, as the season runs through April there. Here’s a great source where you can buy as little as a one-pound bag. And no, they aren’t cheap. If you think it is not very “earth day” to use up fossil fuel to have them shipped here just to satisfy your gourmet fetish, well, the cool thing about the Ramp Farm in Richmond West, Virginia, is that they will also sell you seeds, so you can even try to grow them yourself if you have the right conditions: moist ground, filtered light---like a forest.
If you want WILD ramps, you can order them from D’artagnan, which is presently sourcing them from West Virginia. But will continue to follow the harvest as it moves northward through spring. These are sold only in “chef quantity"--a 5 pound bad--for a steep $94. I say find three friends to share them with. They stay well in the fridge for more than a week. Mine have lasted as long as two weeks.
Now, about that Appalachian style recipe up there. I just can’t give precise measurements for such a down to earth dish. I just cooked the things and enjoyed them.
Happy Earth Day.
Masher
Kitchen Art — Zurbaran
- by Nancy, April 16, 2009
“mystic intensity combined with physical paint and an ordinary fruit . . . quiet. overwhelming.” Peter Schjeldahl for the New Yorker, April 6, 2009.
I paint pictures. That said, I’ve been thinking a lot about painting and not the pictures. A painting is so much more than the image depicted. It’s also about the artist’s intention, the reality of the painted surface itself. It’s about the way the artist has referred to other paintings by picking up threads from the past and making decisions to continue or break from those threads. It’s about, more than anything, well, paint. This painting, one of my favorites, is now on view at the Frick in NYC. It was painted in 1633 by Francisco de Zurbaran (Spanish 1598 - 1664.) Laura sent me this link to a podcast about this painting by the art critic Peter Schjeldahl for the New Yorker who talks about all these things and more. It’s probably one of the best ways to spend ten minutes of your life as you have your morning coffee or tea, not the least to hear Schjeldahl’s take on why this painting and many others is akin to the experience of having a loaded gun pointed in your face. You’ll also be privy to a surprising fact about Schjeldahl’s education in art. Have a listen, see through Zubaran’s eyes, and if you’re really inspired hike on over to the Frick, where, as Schjeldahl points out, nothing beats seeing a painting, made of the “real stuff” of paint, firsthand.
see also: My Kitchen Door
To find out about Laura's search for a long lost family recipe, click [
A James Beard Award winning book that tells a history of American women through food, recipes, and remembrances. Recipes and illustrations from prehistory to the present day.
Laura's memoir about a search for a recipe, happiness, and mythic Italy--with many unexpected adventures along the way.
In this culinary memoir, Nancy Ring combines funny and poignant stories of love and work with warm remembrances of a family that celebrates food with gusto and cherishes memories with passion...
