Made this for dessert last Easter...oh, mercy. Unbelievably delicious.
Berry “Margarita” Trifles (serves 8)
These little treats are fancy, easy, and mouth-wateringly yummy. Trifles are a delicious dessert, but I’ve always taken issue with the way they are scooped out of the pretty trifle bowl and slopped onto a serving plate. By the time it comes to the table, the dessert is unrecognizable. While the flavor is uncompromised, it seems inappropriate to spend so much time layering a pretty dessert, only to have a serving spoon demolish it like a wrecking ball. Solution: make individual trifles using lovely glasses. Margarita glasses work best, but martini glasses, rocks glasses, or just about any clear tumbler you’ve got should work well. If the thought of washing so many glasses makes you cringe, you could even use short plastic 9oz tumblers. Make this with any berries you prefer. I used fresh strawberries, and frozen raspberries thawed in a colander.
Recipe
16 slices of pound cake (store bought or homemade)
1.5 C sliced strawberries
1 C raspberries
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 C sugar, divided
8oz package cream cheese, softened
2 Tbsp lime juice
¾ C apricot jam
½ C Grand Marnier
In a small sauce pan, combine apricot jam and Grand Marnier. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, and continue to cook for about 5 minutes, whisking the mixture occasionally. Break up the large bits of apricot so that the mixture resembles a syrup. Remove from heat.
Next, using a wire whisk attachment, whip the heavy cream with ½ C of sugar on high speed for about 2 minutes, or until the cream has just formed stiff peaks. Do not over whip. Transfer whipped cream to a clean bowl and reserve in the refrigerator. Add the softened cream cheese to the mixing bowl used for the whipped cream. Mix the cream cheese with the remaining sugar and the lime juice until the mixture is smooth. Fold about ½ C of the whipped cream into the cream cheese mixture. This would be a great time to lick the spatula. Go ahead--no one’s watching. Well, except for maybe the Easter Bunny.Layering: Place a few berries in the bottom of each Margarita glass. Top with a slice of pound cake. Drizzle the slice of pound cake with Grand Marnier syrup. Spread about 3 Tbsp of cream cheese mixture on top of pound cake slice—just eyeball it! Add another layer of berries, followed by another slice of pound cake, then drizzle pound cake with Grand Marnier syrup again. This time, top it off with whipped cream, spreading out to the edges of the glass. Wrap with plastic, and store trifles in the refrigerator for at least an hour, and up to 12 hours. Garnish with more berries before serving.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
April 7, 2009
Amidst the widely available menu ideas for Easter Brunch, one can find endless recipes for ham, asparagus, potatoes au gratin, ambrosia salad, and cupcakes topped with buttercream and Peeps. Creatures of habit, most of us will turn to the tried and true family recipes that we’ve scarfed down every Spring for as long as our taste buds can remember. We all find meaning in traditional holiday foods, and at many family gatherings, memories come flooding forward with just one bite of a given dish. I fondly remember my Aunt E’s cinnamon butter buns, my Aunt T’s rainbow jello mold, my Grandpa’s uncompromising demand for ham at every family event, and even the Easter bunny cake my mother made, covered in coconut frosting. I ate it every time she made it, despite my distaste for coconut. I noshed on it not because I particularly enjoyed it, but because I was an eater at heart, plain and simple. Not to mention that devouring a coconut bunny cake just seemed like an appropriate thing to do on Easter Sunday. Yes, I was that kid.
Lest I digress into the dark ages of my slightly overweight childhood, let’s move on to Easter 2009. Our family gatherings have changed. We all get to pitch in now, and we happen to love trying new things every year. By no means am I suggesting that traditional recipes have nothing to offer, but the following recipes are perfect for an amateur cook to proffer at this Sunday’s impending day of celebration. The recipes are fresh, a little off the beaten path, and easy to make ahead. And as tradition may oblige, these dishes will coordinate well with a glazed ham and all the fixings.
Stratas are a fantastic way to feed a crowd. They are typically made with a base of bread, cheese, and custard, but the potential flavor additions are infinite. This particular recipe boasts beautiful colors, fine ingredients, and every bite is delicious!
Pesto and Sausage Strata with Artichoke Salsa
Strata
1 pound Italian sausage, cooked, drained, and crumbled
1 loaf of crusty French bread, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 dozen eggs
1 pint half & half
1 Cup milk
3 Cups mozzarella cheese
1 Cup of pesto
1 Cup of parmesan cheese
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1.5 tsp kosher salt
1.5 tsp cracked black pepper
Spray a 9 x 13 dish with non-stick spray. Layer ½ of the bread cubes in bottom of dish. Sprinkle with ½ of the parmesan cheese, and ½ of the sausage. Pour all of the pesto evenly over the sausage layer. Sprinkle the pesto with ½ of the mozzarella cheese. Add the second layer of bread cubes, followed by the remaining sausage, then the mozzarella, and finish with the remaining parmesan.
Crack the eggs into a medium bowl. Don’t worry if you get a few shells in there. Just tell your family that it’s Easter, and eggs are symbolic of new life, and you meant to do it. Whisk the eggs well, then add the half and half, the milk, the Dijon mustard, and the salt and pepper. Whisk until the mixture is consistent. Carefully pour the egg mixture over the bread and sausage layers. Press the bread cubes down to soak up all of the liquid. At this point, you can wrap the strata in plastic and store it in the fridge for up to 24 hours until you are ready to bake it, or you can just let it sit at room temperature for about 30 minutes before baking. Baking instructions: Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cover the strata with foil, and bake for 45 minutes. Use this time to make the Artichoke Salsa. After 45 minutes, uncover the strata, and bake for 30 minutes more, or until all liquid is set. Allow strata to sit for about 15 minutes before serving. Cut into squares, and top with Artichoke Salsa after plating.
Artichoke Salsa
1 C marinated artichoke hearts, chopped coarsely
3 Roma tomatoes, diced
½ small red onion, diced
½ Cup Italian parsley, chopped
¼ Cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp olive oil
Mix all ingredients. Allow flavors to blend for about 30 minutes before serving.
Amidst the widely available menu ideas for Easter Brunch, one can find endless recipes for ham, asparagus, potatoes au gratin, ambrosia salad, and cupcakes topped with buttercream and Peeps. Creatures of habit, most of us will turn to the tried and true family recipes that we’ve scarfed down every Spring for as long as our taste buds can remember. We all find meaning in traditional holiday foods, and at many family gatherings, memories come flooding forward with just one bite of a given dish. I fondly remember my Aunt E’s cinnamon butter buns, my Aunt T’s rainbow jello mold, my Grandpa’s uncompromising demand for ham at every family event, and even the Easter bunny cake my mother made, covered in coconut frosting. I ate it every time she made it, despite my distaste for coconut. I noshed on it not because I particularly enjoyed it, but because I was an eater at heart, plain and simple. Not to mention that devouring a coconut bunny cake just seemed like an appropriate thing to do on Easter Sunday. Yes, I was that kid.
Lest I digress into the dark ages of my slightly overweight childhood, let’s move on to Easter 2009. Our family gatherings have changed. We all get to pitch in now, and we happen to love trying new things every year. By no means am I suggesting that traditional recipes have nothing to offer, but the following recipes are perfect for an amateur cook to proffer at this Sunday’s impending day of celebration. The recipes are fresh, a little off the beaten path, and easy to make ahead. And as tradition may oblige, these dishes will coordinate well with a glazed ham and all the fixings.
Stratas are a fantastic way to feed a crowd. They are typically made with a base of bread, cheese, and custard, but the potential flavor additions are infinite. This particular recipe boasts beautiful colors, fine ingredients, and every bite is delicious!
Pesto and Sausage Strata with Artichoke Salsa
Strata
1 pound Italian sausage, cooked, drained, and crumbled
1 loaf of crusty French bread, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 dozen eggs
1 pint half & half
1 Cup milk
3 Cups mozzarella cheese
1 Cup of pesto
1 Cup of parmesan cheese
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1.5 tsp kosher salt
1.5 tsp cracked black pepper
Spray a 9 x 13 dish with non-stick spray. Layer ½ of the bread cubes in bottom of dish. Sprinkle with ½ of the parmesan cheese, and ½ of the sausage. Pour all of the pesto evenly over the sausage layer. Sprinkle the pesto with ½ of the mozzarella cheese. Add the second layer of bread cubes, followed by the remaining sausage, then the mozzarella, and finish with the remaining parmesan.
Crack the eggs into a medium bowl. Don’t worry if you get a few shells in there. Just tell your family that it’s Easter, and eggs are symbolic of new life, and you meant to do it. Whisk the eggs well, then add the half and half, the milk, the Dijon mustard, and the salt and pepper. Whisk until the mixture is consistent. Carefully pour the egg mixture over the bread and sausage layers. Press the bread cubes down to soak up all of the liquid. At this point, you can wrap the strata in plastic and store it in the fridge for up to 24 hours until you are ready to bake it, or you can just let it sit at room temperature for about 30 minutes before baking. Baking instructions: Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cover the strata with foil, and bake for 45 minutes. Use this time to make the Artichoke Salsa. After 45 minutes, uncover the strata, and bake for 30 minutes more, or until all liquid is set. Allow strata to sit for about 15 minutes before serving. Cut into squares, and top with Artichoke Salsa after plating.
Artichoke Salsa
1 C marinated artichoke hearts, chopped coarsely
3 Roma tomatoes, diced
½ small red onion, diced
½ Cup Italian parsley, chopped
¼ Cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp olive oil
Mix all ingredients. Allow flavors to blend for about 30 minutes before serving.
Oatmeal Lace Cookies, adapted from Georgeanne Brennan’s Christmas Gifts from the Kitchen
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup quick cooking oats
¾ cup plain flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons butter, melted
¼ cup whole milk
¼ cup unsulfured molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Chocolate Coating
8 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 teaspoons vegetable shortening
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper or greased tin foil.
In a bowl, combine the sugar, oats, flour, and baking powder. Add the melted butter, milk, molasses, and vanilla, and stir until just blended. Let the batter stand for 15 minutes.
Drop heaping teaspoonfuls of the batter onto the prepared baking sheets, forming rounds about 1 inch in diameter, and spacing them 3 inches apart. Bake the cookies until brown on the edges, about 11 minutes. Lift the parchment paper with the cookies and transfer to countertop. Let cool completely.
To make chocolate coating: combine chocolate and shortening in the top pan of a double boiler or heatproof bowl. Set over simmering water and stir until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove from heat.
Gently peel the cookies from the paper. Line the baking sheets again with parchment paper. Dip about half of each cooled cookie in the chocolate coating. Place on prepared baking sheets. Refrigerate until the chocolate sets, about 20 minutes.
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup quick cooking oats
¾ cup plain flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons butter, melted
¼ cup whole milk
¼ cup unsulfured molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Chocolate Coating
8 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 teaspoons vegetable shortening
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper or greased tin foil.
In a bowl, combine the sugar, oats, flour, and baking powder. Add the melted butter, milk, molasses, and vanilla, and stir until just blended. Let the batter stand for 15 minutes.
Drop heaping teaspoonfuls of the batter onto the prepared baking sheets, forming rounds about 1 inch in diameter, and spacing them 3 inches apart. Bake the cookies until brown on the edges, about 11 minutes. Lift the parchment paper with the cookies and transfer to countertop. Let cool completely.
To make chocolate coating: combine chocolate and shortening in the top pan of a double boiler or heatproof bowl. Set over simmering water and stir until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove from heat.
Gently peel the cookies from the paper. Line the baking sheets again with parchment paper. Dip about half of each cooled cookie in the chocolate coating. Place on prepared baking sheets. Refrigerate until the chocolate sets, about 20 minutes.
September 29, 2009
Peachy Keen Cobbler
As a drastic weather change is moving through the Valley, it is clearly going to be the end of the peach season soon. As mentioned here last week, I am eager to usher in the fall and all that it entails, be it the nice weather, lovely pumpkins, scarecrows made of straw, or an excuse to eat more now that beach season is over. It is with reluctance, however, that I say goodbye to the luscious stone fruits of summer—especially the lovely peach.
With their soft fuzzy skin, beautiful fragrance, and perfectly sweet-tart flavor, it’s no wonder that peaches have become the subject of a favored slang phrase or two. According to the Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins, the word peach has been used to describe a pretty young girl for centuries, going back to ancient China, when it was slang for a lovely young bride. ‘A Peach’, in early American history, was meant to describe someone or something wonderful. You’ve certainly heard the expressions ‘peachy keen’ and ‘just peachy’, and the etymology of such phrases is traced directly back to the famous fruit itself.
Not that using food-metaphors is a new concept in English language development.
For example, we can all agree that when it comes to cooking, without a good recipe or idea, the meal won’t amount to a hill of beans. According to the top banana of chefs, if you want to be the greatest thing since sliced bread in your own kitchen, you’ve got to milk it for all its worth, or the apple of your eye might just have to reclaim control of the spatula to save you from getting egg on your face. Ok, so I realize this paragraph is hardly worth its salt, but you get the point--so I’ll cut the mustard and move on to this week’s recipe!
I found this recipe on foodnetwork.com, and it comes from my new favorite food network personality, Chef Anne Burrell. It works perfectly for the end-of-season peaches, which have a tendency to be less sweet than the mid-summer varieties. Because of the golden raisins and delicious crumbly almond topping, September’s slightly sour peaches have found a perfect flavor collaboration. If you have trouble finding decent fresh peaches, frozen would work as well. Just don’t neglect this recipe—it’s a peach of a dessert!
Individual Peach Crisps
Ingredients
For the filling:
5 large ripe peaches, pitted and cut into chunks
1 lemon, zested and juiced
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup tightly packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup golden raisins
Pinch kosher salt
For the topping:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into pea sized pieces
1/2 cup sliced almonds
Pinch kosher salt
1 to 2 tablespoons cold water
Special equipment: 6 (6-ounce) ramekins
Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
For the filling:
Toss the peaches in a large bowl with the zest and lemon juice. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir to combine. Divide the filling evenly between the ramekins.
For the topping:
Combine all of the ingredients in a food processor except the water. Pulse until combined, this will take about 30 seconds. Add water, 1 tablespoon at a time until mixture is clumpy but crumbly.
Top each ramekin with the topping. Be sure to loosely sprinkle the topping and not pack it down. The idea is to look very crumbly and craggy.
Place the ramekins on a sheet tray and bake in the preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the filling is hot and bubbly and the topping, brown and crispy.
Note: This is great served hot with vanilla ice cream.
Peachy Keen Cobbler
As a drastic weather change is moving through the Valley, it is clearly going to be the end of the peach season soon. As mentioned here last week, I am eager to usher in the fall and all that it entails, be it the nice weather, lovely pumpkins, scarecrows made of straw, or an excuse to eat more now that beach season is over. It is with reluctance, however, that I say goodbye to the luscious stone fruits of summer—especially the lovely peach.
With their soft fuzzy skin, beautiful fragrance, and perfectly sweet-tart flavor, it’s no wonder that peaches have become the subject of a favored slang phrase or two. According to the Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins, the word peach has been used to describe a pretty young girl for centuries, going back to ancient China, when it was slang for a lovely young bride. ‘A Peach’, in early American history, was meant to describe someone or something wonderful. You’ve certainly heard the expressions ‘peachy keen’ and ‘just peachy’, and the etymology of such phrases is traced directly back to the famous fruit itself.
Not that using food-metaphors is a new concept in English language development.
For example, we can all agree that when it comes to cooking, without a good recipe or idea, the meal won’t amount to a hill of beans. According to the top banana of chefs, if you want to be the greatest thing since sliced bread in your own kitchen, you’ve got to milk it for all its worth, or the apple of your eye might just have to reclaim control of the spatula to save you from getting egg on your face. Ok, so I realize this paragraph is hardly worth its salt, but you get the point--so I’ll cut the mustard and move on to this week’s recipe!
I found this recipe on foodnetwork.com, and it comes from my new favorite food network personality, Chef Anne Burrell. It works perfectly for the end-of-season peaches, which have a tendency to be less sweet than the mid-summer varieties. Because of the golden raisins and delicious crumbly almond topping, September’s slightly sour peaches have found a perfect flavor collaboration. If you have trouble finding decent fresh peaches, frozen would work as well. Just don’t neglect this recipe—it’s a peach of a dessert!
Individual Peach Crisps
Ingredients
For the filling:
5 large ripe peaches, pitted and cut into chunks
1 lemon, zested and juiced
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup tightly packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup golden raisins
Pinch kosher salt
For the topping:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into pea sized pieces
1/2 cup sliced almonds
Pinch kosher salt
1 to 2 tablespoons cold water
Special equipment: 6 (6-ounce) ramekins
Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
For the filling:
Toss the peaches in a large bowl with the zest and lemon juice. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir to combine. Divide the filling evenly between the ramekins.
For the topping:
Combine all of the ingredients in a food processor except the water. Pulse until combined, this will take about 30 seconds. Add water, 1 tablespoon at a time until mixture is clumpy but crumbly.
Top each ramekin with the topping. Be sure to loosely sprinkle the topping and not pack it down. The idea is to look very crumbly and craggy.
Place the ramekins on a sheet tray and bake in the preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the filling is hot and bubbly and the topping, brown and crispy.
Note: This is great served hot with vanilla ice cream.
Tortellini Soup
January 6, 2010
Hearty Tortellini Soup
Soup for dinner—it’s simple, comforting and consoling, inexpensive, belly-warming and yummy. What more could you ask for on a cold January night?
The holiday spending craze is over (thank heaven), the obscene amounts of trash have been dumped, the bright lights are coming down (or not, depending on the artistic proclivities of your neighbors), and the refrigerator is recovering from a month of being grossly overstuffed. Now it’s time to face the music.
We hold high expectations of ourselves for post-holiday recovery: new budgets, better bodies, cleaner homes, more water, less alcohol, or maybe all of the above. Regardless, it seems clear that we are destined for failure when the goals are too many and too unrealistic, and by the end of month one, we’ve thrown in the tea towel.
While I’m scarcely qualified to offer any counsel the majority of your new year’s tenacities, food, as you well know, is my (only) sphere of self proclaimed proficiency. In regard to all things cuisine-related, my only advice is this: keep it simple. Continue cooking what you and your family like to eat. Sure, lighten it up a little if you’re so inclined. But don’t clear out the entire pantry in hopes of an eating revolution. Mind your portions, don’t eat until you’re sitting down at the table, and cook as much of your own food as possible so you have control over the ingredients. That’s it, my foodie friends.
I dig this recipe on many levels. It’s very filling, and offers nutrition from every food group. The kale is not only an exceptional soup addition, but also a nutrient powerhouse. While my kids aren’t fond of it in most cases, they hardly notice it in this soup—they are too busy fishing for the cheesy tortellini.
You can knock this soup out, start to finish in about 20 minutes, so it’s perfect if you’re in a hurry. More importantly your hungry companions will be satisfied both in belly and soul—which is the most important component of any dinner.
Hearty Tortellini Soup
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
1 lb lean ground beef (I use 93%)
1 jar tomato basil spaghetti sauce
½ cup red wine (optional)
1 quart beef stock or broth
1 cup water
2 bunches of kale, ribs removed, torn into 2 inch pieces
16 oz cheese tortellini (any kind works fine)
Salt and pepper
Fresh basil, chopped
Parmesan Cheese
Directions:
Place a large soup pot over medium high heat. Add olive oil, then onion. Sweat the onion until just translucent, then add ground beef. Cook until meat is fully browned and cooked through. Add spaghetti sauce, red wine, beef stock, and water. Bring to a boil, then add kale. Boil for another 2 minutes, then add tortellini. Add more water or stock, if necessary, to cover tortellini. Simmer for about 10 minutes, until tortellini is cooked. Place in a soup tureen, if desired, or ladle into bowls, and garnish with fresh basil and parmesan cheese. Serve with a green salad.
Hearty Tortellini Soup
Soup for dinner—it’s simple, comforting and consoling, inexpensive, belly-warming and yummy. What more could you ask for on a cold January night?
The holiday spending craze is over (thank heaven), the obscene amounts of trash have been dumped, the bright lights are coming down (or not, depending on the artistic proclivities of your neighbors), and the refrigerator is recovering from a month of being grossly overstuffed. Now it’s time to face the music.
We hold high expectations of ourselves for post-holiday recovery: new budgets, better bodies, cleaner homes, more water, less alcohol, or maybe all of the above. Regardless, it seems clear that we are destined for failure when the goals are too many and too unrealistic, and by the end of month one, we’ve thrown in the tea towel.
While I’m scarcely qualified to offer any counsel the majority of your new year’s tenacities, food, as you well know, is my (only) sphere of self proclaimed proficiency. In regard to all things cuisine-related, my only advice is this: keep it simple. Continue cooking what you and your family like to eat. Sure, lighten it up a little if you’re so inclined. But don’t clear out the entire pantry in hopes of an eating revolution. Mind your portions, don’t eat until you’re sitting down at the table, and cook as much of your own food as possible so you have control over the ingredients. That’s it, my foodie friends.
I dig this recipe on many levels. It’s very filling, and offers nutrition from every food group. The kale is not only an exceptional soup addition, but also a nutrient powerhouse. While my kids aren’t fond of it in most cases, they hardly notice it in this soup—they are too busy fishing for the cheesy tortellini.
You can knock this soup out, start to finish in about 20 minutes, so it’s perfect if you’re in a hurry. More importantly your hungry companions will be satisfied both in belly and soul—which is the most important component of any dinner.
Hearty Tortellini Soup
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
1 lb lean ground beef (I use 93%)
1 jar tomato basil spaghetti sauce
½ cup red wine (optional)
1 quart beef stock or broth
1 cup water
2 bunches of kale, ribs removed, torn into 2 inch pieces
16 oz cheese tortellini (any kind works fine)
Salt and pepper
Fresh basil, chopped
Parmesan Cheese
Directions:
Place a large soup pot over medium high heat. Add olive oil, then onion. Sweat the onion until just translucent, then add ground beef. Cook until meat is fully browned and cooked through. Add spaghetti sauce, red wine, beef stock, and water. Bring to a boil, then add kale. Boil for another 2 minutes, then add tortellini. Add more water or stock, if necessary, to cover tortellini. Simmer for about 10 minutes, until tortellini is cooked. Place in a soup tureen, if desired, or ladle into bowls, and garnish with fresh basil and parmesan cheese. Serve with a green salad.
June 23, 2009
Amanda De Jager Friedman
This week’s culinary vocabulary--Sous Chef (soo-sheff): the second in command in a brigade system; the underchef.
Believe it or not, there was a day when I resented my humble position as the family sous chef. In fact, I resented the act of cooking all together. In my over assured pre-teen opinion, it was nothing short of a cruel curse, dictated to me solely on the basis of my first born-birth order and exclusive position as the only “farmer’s daughter” in the household. The job was thankless, messy, and tedious.
As the hot valley summers would have it, our dad harassed us out of bed at the crack of dawn to “get after it” before the weather became too warm. While the boys pedaled their bikes down the rooted dirt road leading to the family dairy farm, my mom and I would embark on another day of washing Wranglers, fielding phone calls, and, naturally, cooking up some hearty farm boy fare. By the time the rascally little ranch hands came in for lunch, red-cheeked and toting pellet guns, pockets full of cottonseed, they were ravenous as pre-hibernation grizzlies, not to mention uncouth. I was convinced at the time that I was being held captive on the set of a modern day, low budget spaghetti western, and I longed for the day I could escape far away to a good college. I made up my mind that I’d never cook for boys again.
College finally arrived to whisk me away to freedom, and ironically, I learned in short order that all those years of acting as sous chef for the family-of-seven-feeding-frenzy were coming in handy. Before I knew it, I was catering super bowl parties and teaching my roommates’ parents how to glaze a ham.
More importantly, however, getting my hands dirty in the kitchen taught me real life lessons about working as a family, being industrious, and essentially, figuring out how to make somethin’ out of nothin’. There was no grocery store around the corner, so depending on cook books was useless. It was a daily effort to use up the leftovers, and the saying never rang more true: necessity was the mother of invention. The same principle applies to farming. Regardless of the weather, the market prices, or the fact that it happens to be a holiday, the cows must be milked and the trees must be watered. Farmers just make do.
While college educations are becoming a vital part of our life stories, there is no better teacher than the hands on experiences we endure from an early age. This summer, take the opportunity to work together with your children, whether it’s on a farm, in the office, or in kitchen. Don’t worry about the mess they’ll make…it’s a small price to pay for the lifelong lesson you’ll give them. If a kid understands the value of ambition and diligence, they will do well.
While nachos are by no means a culinary tour de force (although I know a few who might argue the case), they are a great way to use up leftover meat, veggies, and cheese. Beyond that, nachos make a perfect centerpiece for a table of famished kids who would probably love to take a break and scarf chips together. I’ve made many a hungry kid happy with these!
For what it’s worth, I think the best nacho chips come from Rancho San Miguel grocery store. They fry a fresh batch of the thick, crispy chips on a regular basis, and they store well in the freezer if you can’t use all of them. Although, I doubt you’ll have leftovers! While you’re there, the pico de gallo and the salsa verde fit right into the following recipe suggestions.
Dairy Brothers Nachos
Tortilla Chips
2 Cups leftover meat (pork tenderloin was used for this recipe testing)
½ Cup Salsa Verde
1 15oz. can of pinquitos (seasoned pink beans)
2 cups shredded jack cheese
1 cup pico de gallo
1 cup crumbled Cotija cheese
Guacamole
Directions: Heat oven to 375 degrees.
Chop up leftover meat and place in a sauté pan with salsa verde. Simmer over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Allow the juices to reduce, and the meat to become tender. Add can of pinquitos, and heat until beans are hot. Remove from heat.
Spray a sheet pan liberally with nonstick cooking spray. Arrange chips on sheet tray in a hearty layer. Spoon the meat and bean mixture over the chips, followed by jack cheese, then pico de gallo, and finally by the cotija cheese.
Heat in oven for 12-14 minutes, or until cheese is just beginning to bubble. Serve with guacamole. And by the way, if you ate today, thank a farmer!
Amanda De Jager Friedman
This week’s culinary vocabulary--Sous Chef (soo-sheff): the second in command in a brigade system; the underchef.
Believe it or not, there was a day when I resented my humble position as the family sous chef. In fact, I resented the act of cooking all together. In my over assured pre-teen opinion, it was nothing short of a cruel curse, dictated to me solely on the basis of my first born-birth order and exclusive position as the only “farmer’s daughter” in the household. The job was thankless, messy, and tedious.
As the hot valley summers would have it, our dad harassed us out of bed at the crack of dawn to “get after it” before the weather became too warm. While the boys pedaled their bikes down the rooted dirt road leading to the family dairy farm, my mom and I would embark on another day of washing Wranglers, fielding phone calls, and, naturally, cooking up some hearty farm boy fare. By the time the rascally little ranch hands came in for lunch, red-cheeked and toting pellet guns, pockets full of cottonseed, they were ravenous as pre-hibernation grizzlies, not to mention uncouth. I was convinced at the time that I was being held captive on the set of a modern day, low budget spaghetti western, and I longed for the day I could escape far away to a good college. I made up my mind that I’d never cook for boys again.
College finally arrived to whisk me away to freedom, and ironically, I learned in short order that all those years of acting as sous chef for the family-of-seven-feeding-frenzy were coming in handy. Before I knew it, I was catering super bowl parties and teaching my roommates’ parents how to glaze a ham.
More importantly, however, getting my hands dirty in the kitchen taught me real life lessons about working as a family, being industrious, and essentially, figuring out how to make somethin’ out of nothin’. There was no grocery store around the corner, so depending on cook books was useless. It was a daily effort to use up the leftovers, and the saying never rang more true: necessity was the mother of invention. The same principle applies to farming. Regardless of the weather, the market prices, or the fact that it happens to be a holiday, the cows must be milked and the trees must be watered. Farmers just make do.
While college educations are becoming a vital part of our life stories, there is no better teacher than the hands on experiences we endure from an early age. This summer, take the opportunity to work together with your children, whether it’s on a farm, in the office, or in kitchen. Don’t worry about the mess they’ll make…it’s a small price to pay for the lifelong lesson you’ll give them. If a kid understands the value of ambition and diligence, they will do well.
While nachos are by no means a culinary tour de force (although I know a few who might argue the case), they are a great way to use up leftover meat, veggies, and cheese. Beyond that, nachos make a perfect centerpiece for a table of famished kids who would probably love to take a break and scarf chips together. I’ve made many a hungry kid happy with these!
For what it’s worth, I think the best nacho chips come from Rancho San Miguel grocery store. They fry a fresh batch of the thick, crispy chips on a regular basis, and they store well in the freezer if you can’t use all of them. Although, I doubt you’ll have leftovers! While you’re there, the pico de gallo and the salsa verde fit right into the following recipe suggestions.
Dairy Brothers Nachos
Tortilla Chips
2 Cups leftover meat (pork tenderloin was used for this recipe testing)
½ Cup Salsa Verde
1 15oz. can of pinquitos (seasoned pink beans)
2 cups shredded jack cheese
1 cup pico de gallo
1 cup crumbled Cotija cheese
Guacamole
Directions: Heat oven to 375 degrees.
Chop up leftover meat and place in a sauté pan with salsa verde. Simmer over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Allow the juices to reduce, and the meat to become tender. Add can of pinquitos, and heat until beans are hot. Remove from heat.
Spray a sheet pan liberally with nonstick cooking spray. Arrange chips on sheet tray in a hearty layer. Spoon the meat and bean mixture over the chips, followed by jack cheese, then pico de gallo, and finally by the cotija cheese.
Heat in oven for 12-14 minutes, or until cheese is just beginning to bubble. Serve with guacamole. And by the way, if you ate today, thank a farmer!
Black Bean Pumpkin Soup
October 27, 2009
Amanda DeJager Friedman
In just a few days, Halloween will creep up on us, encompassing all its typical sinister annual habits. It will not only sabotage children’s dental health, but also the waistlines of their parents, who find themselves unable to resist the temptation to pilfer the rewards of the kiddo’s candy pursuits. Neighborhoods will be garnished with smashed jack-o-lanterns, shiny Twix wrappers, and costume remnants.
Halloween makes for exhausted parents, frustrating evasion efforts for those who aren’t interested, hilarious costume parties for college fraternities, and endless opportunities for exploitation by retailers. Even so, there is something I find unique and charming about the concept of trick-or-treating, and Halloween in general.
I’ve never been terribly interested in the ghouls and goblins, witches and faux headstones. My autumn décor preferences are tend to be anchored in the realities of the harvest season. I do as you know, have a predilection for pumpkins, and our kids love jack-o-lanterns, but that’s about as festive as it gets.
However, when it comes to dressing up and schlepping around the neighborhood for treats, I think it’s an awesome tradition.
American society is starved for personal contact, especially that of a spontaneous, friendly nature. As a country, we spend most of our free time in front of the television, or in our private backyards. The sociable front porches of just a few decades ago are all but gone. They’ve been replaced by back patios, flat screens, and text messaging.
Growing up in the country, we had to drive a few miles between ranches to trick-or-treat, but it was well worth it. Since the farmers in our zone didn’t get very many trick-or-treaters, they gave out king size candy bars, dollar bills, see’s candy, and even playing cards. We loved every last treat, and our parents enjoyed dropping by the neighboring farms to visit for a bit. In retrospect, it was so nice to see all of the “neighbors” each year, and my memories of most of them still hinge on Halloween.
Trick-or-treating is one of the few institutions remaining that makes it acceptable to just ring the neighbor’s doorbell, to be kind to children you don’t know, and to become happily juvenile, all in the name of good fun. It’s an excuse to chat up someone around the corner who we never otherwise talk to, to dress our dogs in banana suits, and eat Snickers like they’re going out of style. What’s not to love?
My recipe suggestion this week is to make a big pot of delicious soup, pour it into a hollowed out pumpkin, or maybe your cauldron, depending on what suits your style, then share it with your friends and neighbors. Chances are, you’ll make contact with someone you’d love to visit with a bit more, so open the door and be hospitable. The soup will keep for a few hours over low heat, allowing you to socialize with as many creepy crawlers as you can stay awake for.
In keeping with the pumpkin motif, this black bean pumpkin soup makes for a superlative Halloween night supper. It’s hearty, tasty, and fitting for the occasion.
Black Bean Pumpkin Soup
2 15 oz cans black beans
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lb smoked sausage or kielbasa, quartered lengthwise and diced
3 stalks of celery, sliced
1 yellow onion, diced
2 carrots, peeled, quartered lengthwise, and sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 quarts broth or stock: chicken, beef, or vegetable will work just fine
2 cups pumpkin puree or canned pumpkin (NOT pumpkin pie filling)
1 tablespoon cumin
2 teaspoons chili powder
Salt and Pepper to taste
Pumpkin Seeds, also known as pepitas, for garnish
Green onions, sliced, for garnish
In a blender or food processor, blend black beans and tomatoes. Add a little of the stock or broth if needed to thin the mixture. Blend just until the beans are well incorporated with the tomatoes, but not pureed.
In a large heavy bottomed soup pot over medium high heat, sauté sausage, celery, onion, and carrots in olive oil until translucent. Add garlic, and sauté a few minutes more. Pour broth over vegetables and sausage, and boil until vegetables are very tender, about 15 minutes. Stir in the black bean tomato mixture, the pumpkin, cumin, and chili powder. Bring to a boil, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add extra broth if needed for desired consistency.
To serve in a pumpkin: cut the top off of a large pumpkin, and clean out the guts. Rinse the entire pumpkin very well with hot water. About 10 minutes before serving the soup, fill the pumpkin with boiling water to heat the inside of the pumpkin. Dump out the water just before filling the pumpkin with soup. Ladle into bowls for hungry hobgoblins.
October 27, 2009
Amanda DeJager Friedman
In just a few days, Halloween will creep up on us, encompassing all its typical sinister annual habits. It will not only sabotage children’s dental health, but also the waistlines of their parents, who find themselves unable to resist the temptation to pilfer the rewards of the kiddo’s candy pursuits. Neighborhoods will be garnished with smashed jack-o-lanterns, shiny Twix wrappers, and costume remnants.
Halloween makes for exhausted parents, frustrating evasion efforts for those who aren’t interested, hilarious costume parties for college fraternities, and endless opportunities for exploitation by retailers. Even so, there is something I find unique and charming about the concept of trick-or-treating, and Halloween in general.
I’ve never been terribly interested in the ghouls and goblins, witches and faux headstones. My autumn décor preferences are tend to be anchored in the realities of the harvest season. I do as you know, have a predilection for pumpkins, and our kids love jack-o-lanterns, but that’s about as festive as it gets.
However, when it comes to dressing up and schlepping around the neighborhood for treats, I think it’s an awesome tradition.
American society is starved for personal contact, especially that of a spontaneous, friendly nature. As a country, we spend most of our free time in front of the television, or in our private backyards. The sociable front porches of just a few decades ago are all but gone. They’ve been replaced by back patios, flat screens, and text messaging.
Growing up in the country, we had to drive a few miles between ranches to trick-or-treat, but it was well worth it. Since the farmers in our zone didn’t get very many trick-or-treaters, they gave out king size candy bars, dollar bills, see’s candy, and even playing cards. We loved every last treat, and our parents enjoyed dropping by the neighboring farms to visit for a bit. In retrospect, it was so nice to see all of the “neighbors” each year, and my memories of most of them still hinge on Halloween.
Trick-or-treating is one of the few institutions remaining that makes it acceptable to just ring the neighbor’s doorbell, to be kind to children you don’t know, and to become happily juvenile, all in the name of good fun. It’s an excuse to chat up someone around the corner who we never otherwise talk to, to dress our dogs in banana suits, and eat Snickers like they’re going out of style. What’s not to love?
My recipe suggestion this week is to make a big pot of delicious soup, pour it into a hollowed out pumpkin, or maybe your cauldron, depending on what suits your style, then share it with your friends and neighbors. Chances are, you’ll make contact with someone you’d love to visit with a bit more, so open the door and be hospitable. The soup will keep for a few hours over low heat, allowing you to socialize with as many creepy crawlers as you can stay awake for.
In keeping with the pumpkin motif, this black bean pumpkin soup makes for a superlative Halloween night supper. It’s hearty, tasty, and fitting for the occasion.
Black Bean Pumpkin Soup
2 15 oz cans black beans
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lb smoked sausage or kielbasa, quartered lengthwise and diced
3 stalks of celery, sliced
1 yellow onion, diced
2 carrots, peeled, quartered lengthwise, and sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 quarts broth or stock: chicken, beef, or vegetable will work just fine
2 cups pumpkin puree or canned pumpkin (NOT pumpkin pie filling)
1 tablespoon cumin
2 teaspoons chili powder
Salt and Pepper to taste
Pumpkin Seeds, also known as pepitas, for garnish
Green onions, sliced, for garnish
In a blender or food processor, blend black beans and tomatoes. Add a little of the stock or broth if needed to thin the mixture. Blend just until the beans are well incorporated with the tomatoes, but not pureed.
In a large heavy bottomed soup pot over medium high heat, sauté sausage, celery, onion, and carrots in olive oil until translucent. Add garlic, and sauté a few minutes more. Pour broth over vegetables and sausage, and boil until vegetables are very tender, about 15 minutes. Stir in the black bean tomato mixture, the pumpkin, cumin, and chili powder. Bring to a boil, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add extra broth if needed for desired consistency.
To serve in a pumpkin: cut the top off of a large pumpkin, and clean out the guts. Rinse the entire pumpkin very well with hot water. About 10 minutes before serving the soup, fill the pumpkin with boiling water to heat the inside of the pumpkin. Dump out the water just before filling the pumpkin with soup. Ladle into bowls for hungry hobgoblins.
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