the greeks have it

i discovered the joys of greek yogurt less than a year ago. it’s creamy. it’s smooth. it’s thick and oh, so good with honey. in fact, i love it with honey. some people can take it plain. those must be the same people that enjoy their coffee black.

plain is simply joyless. there is no fun in plain yogurt. yogurt is meant to have stuff in it. why else would dannon put the fruit on the bottom? of course, commercial yogurts in the U.S. just don’t stand up to the greeks. it’s like comparing homemade pasta with kraft macaroni and cheese.

there are some who enjoy making their own yogurt. perhaps one day, i will take the challenge. in the meantime, i’m happy to skip over to trader joe’s and pick up a little tub of FAGE and call it a day. but for those who would like to give it a go, here’s a recipe for the homemade stuff from the New York Times:

4 cups whole or reduced-fat (2%) milk

2 tablespoons plain yogurt with live active cultures, greek or regular.

1. in a heavy medium saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the milk to a boil. remove from the heat and let the milk cool to 110 to 115 degrees on an instant read thermometer. transfer the milk to a ceramic container or pyrex pan.

2. place the yogurt in a cup. add 2 to 3 tablespoons of the warmed milk and stir to mix. pour the yogurt mixture into the milk and stir to mix. cover the container with a towel or a dinner plate. do not use an airtight cover, as the bacteria need to breath. set in a warm place (70 to 100 degrees), until the yogurt has set and the texture resembles flan or cheesecake, anywhere from 6 to 12 hours, or more, depending on the temperature and the quality of the starter. (an oven turned off with a pilot light is a good place or in a cabinet over a warm oven.) transfer to the refrigerator, cover tightly and use within 4 days. makes 1 quart.

3. don’t forget to put your yogurt through a cheese cloth or similar strainer to slough off the excess liquid. yogurt can get pretty sloppy.

enjoy!

culinary break through...

i am so proud of myself. i have done something utterly amazing. no, i have not solved world hunger, established a state of global peace, or found a cure for all disease. it is something infinitely better: i made a hollandaise sauce.

granted, it may not sound earth-shattering to you. but to me, it was a feat. i remember my mother repeatedly lamenting over her attempts at the elusive goo. she bitterly complained about how it would separate. no matter how many times she tried, she could never get it right. so for years, i passive-aggressively avoided making the sauce. what did i need with that yellow goop anyway? dumping it over asparagus was so passé.

for some strange reason, i decided to make it the other night. i can’t say what possessed me, but i am rather glad i did. while i admit the sauce needs as much attention as a high-maintenance trophy wife with a shopping addiction for luxury items, there are only a few ingredients that just need a little whisking.

i referred to the old stand-by, the joy of cooking, for its tried-and-true recipe. if the sauce congeals a bit before serving, whisk in about a teaspoon of warm water:

place in the top of a double-boiler or in a large stainless steel bowl set up as a double boiler.

3 large egg yolks
1 ½ tablespoons of cold water

off the heat, whisk the egg mixture until i becomes light and frothy. place the top of the double boiler or bowl over—not in—barely simmering water and continue to whisk until the eggs are thickened , 2 to 4 minutes, being careful not to let the eggs get too hot. remove the pan or bowl from over the water and whisk to slightly cool the mixture. whisking constantly, very slowly add:

½ cup of warm clarified butter

(to clarify butter, melt the stick of butter of medium-low heat. once melted, take it off the heat and skim off the butter solids.)

whisk in

1 to 3 teaspoons of fresh lemon juice
dash of red pepper sauce (optional)
salt and white ground pepper to taste

serve immediately or keep the sauce warm for up to 30 minutes by placing the bowl in warm water.

merry christmas!

you're invited...

i’m planning a holiday party for this weekend. if i had any sense at all, i’d worry more about what i was going to wear and not what i was going to cook. isn’t that what catering is for?!?

but, i am worrying about what i will cook. although, worry is not the right word. worry connotes something negative. i actually enjoy considering what would taste good, what things would go well together.

the dilemma of a party is all the work that goes into it. it’s not just the cooking. it’s cleaning the house, setting up the decorations, putting out the plates and wine glasses, or running out to the store because i realize i don’t have enough of those stupid wine glasses.

so what can i do to make my life a little easier, especially around this time of year? ask for help. i really don’t do that often enough. i take on the whole sha-bang from soup to nuts and wonder why i’m so stinking tired later on. this year, however, i asked guests to bring a dish and a favorite beverage. whatever i make will fill in the gaps. et voila!

i will make a few little noshes that don’t take much time. a charcuterie and cheese platter with toasted baguettes is always nice. although, i think i’d like to plan my hors d’oeuvres around a theme. each dish will have a focal point. goat cheese, for example. i love fresh goat cheese. it goes with so many different things. drizzle honey on it. pair it with sautéed mushrooms and thyme. figs, figs, figs. need I say more? frankly, i’m salivating already…

another consideration for this time of year is roasting or stewing. these are meals you can make ahead and put in the oven, keep on the stovetop, or in a crockpot. while the chicken thighs are simmering in their juices, i can take a shower and put on that little black dress that takes ten pounds of my ass. or while the pot roast is in the crockpot, i can set out the tableware.

regardless of what i end up cooking, the food will taste good and the conversation will flow. but only as long as i choose the right wines. hmmm…

thanksgiving

whatever happened to thanksgiving? it is such an underappreciated holiday. we break out the halloween gear in august only to transition to mistletoe and cheesy felt stockings the moment the candy has been put away. shouldn’t we at least acknowledge the fourth thursday in november?

break out the cranberries! throw down your stuffing! slice me up a piece of that pumpkin pie!

but without a doubt, the pièce de résistance is the turkey: a perfectly browned, over-dry bird that would fell a herd of bison with its tryptophan kick. whether you go whole hog on the turducken like a john madden wannabe or you forgo the weight gain and stick with the tofurkey, the bird is king.

however, the meat of the turkey without dressing or seasoning can simply be an adventure in blandness. it’s dry. it’s beige. it’s frankly lackluster in the protein category. the best way I have found to make a really good bird is to brine it first and then roast it after searing it for half an hour at 500 degrees.

below is a recipe for brining and roasting your turkey from the food network’s alton brown. it’s a good guideline, but you don’t have to include all the ingredients. if you don’t like ginger, don’t put it in. the key is the salt, stock, oil, and water. that’s the base brine. whatever else you add depends on your own taste.

1 (14 to 16 pound) frozen young turkey
for the brine: for the aromatics:
1 cup kosher salt 1 red apple, sliced
1/2 cup light brown sugar 1/2 onion, sliced
1 gallon vegetable stock 1 cinnamon stick
1 tablespoon black peppercorns 1 cup water
1/2 tablespoon allspice berries 4 sprigs rosemary
1/2 tablespoon candied ginger 6 leaves sage
1 gallon iced water Canola oil

combine all brine ingredients, except ice water, in a stockpot, and bring to a boil. stir to dissolve solids, then remove from heat, cool to room temperature, and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled.

early on the day of cooking, (or late the night before) combine the brine and ice water in a clean 5-gallon bucket or cooler big enough to hold the turkey. place thawed turkey breast side down in brine, cover, and refrigerate or set in cool area (like a basement) for 6 hours. turn turkey over once, half way through brining.

a few minutes before roasting, heat oven to 500 degrees. combine the apple, onion, cinnamon stick, and cup of water in a microwave safe dish and microwave on high for 5 minutes.

remove bird from brine and rinse inside and out with cold water. discard brine.

place bird on roasting rack inside wide, low pan and pat dry with paper towels. add steeped aromatics to cavity along with rosemary and sage. tuck back wings and coat whole bird liberally with canola (or other neutral) oil.

roast on lowest level of the oven at 500 degrees F. for 30 minutes. remove from oven and cover breast with double layer of aluminum foil, insert probe thermometer into thickest part of the breast and return to oven, reducing temperature to 350 degrees F. set thermometer alarm (if available) to 161 degrees. a 14 to 16 pound bird should require a total of 2 to 2 1/2 hours of roasting. let turkey rest, loosely covered, for 15 minutes before carving.

happy thanksgiving!

taste buds?

i think i’m missing the mommy gene—or is it some bizarre enzyme?—required to make creative food for your kids. you know those moms—the ones that put plates of uniquely disguised healthy food with the uncanny resemblance of a lady bug. “here ya go, sweet pea. here’s your brussels sprout caterpillar. look how expertly mommy made use of the toothpicks and chewing gum to keep it all together!”

frankly, i wish i had the time to think about ways to make food attractive to picky eaters. especially with my middle daughter. if it’s not a white carbohydrate, it doesn’t cross her lips. i’m sure i could dutifully puree cauliflower and put it in apple muffins. but by the time i pureed the cauliflower, i’d probably just end up making soup.

my only hope is that one day, when they’ve had enough bad cafeteria food and a metric ton of ramen noodles, they’ll realize that my risotto with chanterelles wasn’t half bad. and the roasted asparagus with the balsamic glaze was rather tasty too.

i wonder, though. at what point do your taste buds mature? i remember loathing asparagus as a kid. now i like it. and you couldn’t get me in the same room with a beet. admittedly, i merely tolerate beets now. but, if you add some fresh goat cheese, beets are a relatively pleasant experience for me.

well, whether my taste buds are maturing or i’m simply on the path to a bowl of pre-masticated food as an octogenarian, i’m going to enjoy what i do eat and hope my kids come along for the ride.

pb&j

a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. it’s perfect. simple ingredients in between two pieces of bread. add a glass of milk and that’s all you need.

is there a genesis to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich? oh, probably. perhaps it dates back to the ancient egyptians who used it initially as part of their embalming technique only to discover it made a great snack. or maybe it was found quite by accident because there was nothing left in the house besides a roll of stale crackers and moldy cheese. with that choice, i think i’d go for the sandwich too.

actually, the peanut butter sandwich dates back to the early 20th century in its widespread use. while bread and jelly have been around for hundreds of years, peanut butter didn’t become a real hit until the 1904 st. louis world’s fair. with the marketing of peter pan and skippy peanut butters in the 20s and 30s, pb&j became a lunch box staple. by world war II and the ensuing rations, peanut butter and jelly was a meal for many people tightening their belts. it was cheap and satisfying.

it’s the simple things that have the greatest longevity. peanut butter and jelly are the perfect combination. like romeo and juliet. milk and cookies. burgers and fries. apple pie and ice cream a la mode. oddly enough, it’s the most fattening foods that seem to be paired up. maybe that’s what broke romeo and juliet up. it wasn’t two warring families and a bottle of poison. juliet’s ass got too fat to fit in her jeans. must have been the pb&j…

fall finds

i went to the farmer’s market in the parking lot of the fairfield theatre company yesterday. it was chilly, more than a little overcast, and drizzly. i didn’t expect much on a day like that. i thought it might be slim pickings.

instead, i found a still-bountiful display of vegetables and other produce. i went home with my prizes: fresh artisanal bread, mesclun salad greens with edible flowers, fresh pea shoots, heirloom tomatoes.

(i kicked myself for not picking up the “hen of the woods” mushrooms. however, they were being sold for $18 a pound. another time—perhaps one not so economically tight.)

while at the market, i kept thinking of an excerpt from barbara kingsolver’s animal, vegetable, miracle. she had gone to the farmer’s market near her family’s farm in virginia. it was a windy, cold, drizzly november day without much promise for a farmer’s market. yet, she went anyway. when she got there, she didn’t find an abundance of produce. but, she did find fresh honey, fresh walnuts already shelled, and a host of other little morsels to take home and make a yummy meal. she had gone with an open mind and no expectation.

i went to the market yesterday with the same mindset. sometimes, life gives you little surprises. you just don’t know until you get there…