Chicken with Orange-Balsamic sauce

Ah, summer.

I haven't felt much like cooking these past months. Maybe it's the warm weather, the recognition of how short the season really is here in the Kingdom; maybe it's garden-variety malaise; maybe it's the disagreeable relationship I've had with my bathroom scale.

Whatever the cause, I've adopted what my mother-in-law would have called a 'grab it and growl' approach to menu planning lately. And it's suited the season.

Keeping with that, but yearning for something a little more constructed than a salad or unexpected than a burger tossed on the grill, here's a quick chicken dish that's high on flavor, low on effort. We prepared it last night with some success, based on the absence of leftovers.

You've got a bowl of oranges in the kitchen, don't you? A little balsamic hanging around? Then you've got a classic waiting to happen.

Chicken with Orange-Balsamic Sauce

1 1/2 pounds chicken tenders

1 large navel orange, peeled, sectioned, and diced

1 tablespoon butter

1/4 cup chopped onion

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 1/4 cups orange juice, divided

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1/3 cup brown sugar, plus 2 tablespoons

1 teaspoon Better than Bullion Organic Chicken Base (optional)

Salt and Pepper to taste

Olive Oil

Rinse the chicken and pat dry. Set aside.

Make the sauce. Peel and section a large navel orange, and chop into small pieces. Melt the butter in a non-stick skillet over medium heat. Add the orange pieces and saute a few moments. Then add the onion and garlic and cook together a few minutes until fragrant.

Add 3/4 cup of the orange juice, the balsamic vinegar (I had an inexpensive 'white' on hand that worked well -- since this is cooking down, any decent though low-priced balsamic you like will do), the brown sugar (add more if you have a sweet tooth) and the Better than Bullion, if desired. Stir well and, over medium high heat, simmer the mixture until it thickens, stirring frequently, about 5 to 7 minutes. (Don't let the mixture cook down too much; if it burns, you'll have to start over.) Salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.

Heat a little olive oil to a non-stick skillet set over medium-high heat. Brown the chicken tenders on both sides, in two batches so not to crowd the pan. Remove to a plate. Drain off any excess oil. Deglaze the pan with the remaining 1/2 cup orange juice. Add 2 tablespoons brown sugar. Mix together well and bring to a brisk boil. Allow the mixture to bubble for a few moments in order to reduce a bit. Return the chicken to the pan, lower the heat to medium low, cover, and simmer gently until chicken is cooked through, about five minutes. Stir in the sauce. Bring to a simmer, cover, and reheat a few moments longer, coating the chicken well. Serve hot.

This would work beautifully with a wild rice almondine, but pared well with simply prepared new potatoes from the farmers' market and sauteed zucchini out of the garden.

Dinner accomplished. Let us therefor resume our reprobate summer ways. To the hammock!

Remembering my mother, on her birthday

Josephine Berretta Buel

May 26, 1924 - December 21, 2006.

Deeply missed, much loved.

Argentinian Malbec, Well-Marbled Steaks, and the Earth Moved

Let's be honest: we've had some rough sledding lately. The demise of the magazine, budget cuts at school, and -- oh -- that delinquent tax bill arriving in the mail. Hum. Well, we took care of that right away! But it's left us a little depleted, in more ways than one. By mid-week, I had to have a real meal.

Spent twenty minutes at the meat counter, selecting the perfect steaks. Let's not dwell on why it took so long. But select I did. Then grabbed a bag of Vermont potatoes and a bottle of Alamos Malbec, an Argentinian go-to of choice.

"I want mine bloody," I announced, slapping the steaks out on the counter, then getting to work peeling and slicing the potatoes for oven fries. I seasoned the spuds with salt, pepper, and a spicy garlic and onion blend, then tossed them onto a oiled baking sheet in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes or so, flipping a couple of times until they were golden and gorgeously brown here and there.

Fabulous.

And those steaks. No grill at hand, no interest in cleaning a broiler pan either . . .so we pan seared them. Started them in a cold non-stick pan set over nearly the highest flame. Turned after four or five minutes and cooked the other side. Mine was sort of still kicking, so we lowered the temperature and kept the other on the flame.

Fabulous.

I don't eat a lot of steak, but when I do, one could say that I genuinely enjoy it. In short, I find a succulent cut of beef cooked to perfection something of a, well, earth-moving experience. It's hard not to feel sorry for vegetarians, no matter how deep their affection for asparagus or broccoli might be.

For lunch I ate the leftovers cold. And for dinner now I'm about to roast a very plump chicken, which -- given my appetite -- I might consume entirely by myself. Perhaps it's not been a great week in terms of calorie or cholesterol counting. Or dollar counting, for that matter. But we've eaten well, with gusto, and with appreciation for all our gifts.

We're counting those blessings, you can be sure.

Photo: Dinner at Lomo, a Buenos Aires steakhouse -- Philip Choi.

A heartfelt thank you to our readers

Dear NCC readers,

A few years ago, my Aunt Ada Virginia --- no children of her own, widow of a big, tall oilman --- passed away, leaving me what seemed a small fortune. Shrewd investor that I am, I blew the bulk of it on a three-week trip to Italy with my daughters to celebrate their graduation from Lyndon Institute and to see a few places our ancestors had walked. We had a blast, and we built memories that will last a lifetime. The rest of my aunt’s bequest went to starting and keeping afloat North Country Cooking. And while it was money well spent, spent it is. Alas.

I’ve had a wonderful year sharing in this literary-culinary passion. It’s been great fun, and I’ve learned a lot: chiefly, though, that I am a far better short-order cook and bottle-washer than entrepreneur, and that a bone-fide business plan probably can’t be adequately sketched out on a cocktail napkin.

Our March issue, therefore, will remain our last. Over the summer months, I will evaluate what sort of venture makes sense for NCC. Perhaps we will re-emerge as a less ambitious quarterly; perhaps a cookbook will seem both fun and fiscally sound. We'll hold our post at the stove and sink, and carry on with our blog, and see what the Universe has in store. In the meantime, I’m arranging for our subscribers to receive complimentary subscriptions to the ever excellent Cook’s Illustrated.

Thank you, readers, for believing in the magazine, for staying with us when at every turn there are more and more demands on your time and attention. I've appreciated the boots-on-the-ground support you’ve shown, and the fine work our writers and readers alike have submitted over these months. I’ve enjoyed it all, as I hope you have, and I am very grateful.

Very best,

Denise

Limoncello Yogurt Cream

"The desserts," a friend of mine said yesterday, "were over the top."

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I wasn't sure at first if this was a good thing. I mean, we aimed to please and impress, not confound. But as dessert buffets go, I've got to believe that we assembled a pretty terrific one for last Saturday's fundraiser: amazing Tiramisu, dense chocolate torte with blackberry cream and glaze, luscious cheesecake with raspberry sauce, and lovely lemon pound cake with a tangy-sweet Limoncello yogurt cream. We had several requests for the recipe for that last offering, which had at least one appreciative dinner savoring the very last dollop.

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My son, Alex, was taster extraordinaire last week for me, as we finessed the recipe. It's so easy I'm a little tempted to keep it to myself. But it'd be selfish not to share. While it was perfect over the pound cake, it would be equally fabulous ladled over a slice of delicate white cake and adorned with fresh berries -- raspberries are a natural match for lemon, but we'll try blueberries this summer for sure. (Hard to beat the ubiquitous combination of cobalt and lemon-yellow found on hand-painted pottery from Capri and the Amalfi coast.)

Limoncello Yogurt Cream

8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

1/2 cup whole milk plain, unsweetened yogurt

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons confectioners sugar, sifted

6 tablespoons Limoncello

Beat the cream cheese until very smooth. Add the yogurt and beat again. Sift in the sugar, and beat once more. Stir in the Limoncello. Cover and refrigerate until cold. Mixture will thicken, but retain the consistency of a sauce rather than a whipped cream. Serve over sliced cake with fresh fruit.

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Photo by designatednaphour.

Julia wore pearls in the kitchen . . . .

. . . and so will I.

This Saturday's Habitat for Humanity Fundraiser in St. Johnsbury is sold out, and I'll be behind the scenes, stirring sauce and twirling pasta with a crew of volunteers. On the menu: chicken and eggplant Parmesans, and a dessert buffet guaranteed to satisfy any sweet tooth. Many folks from the South Congregational Church, Habitat, and North Country Cooking have volunteered to bake lemon pound cakes, chocolate tortes, tiramisu, and cheesecakes. Calorie counting is most definitely not allowed on Saturday.

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NCC writer and cook extraordinaire Susan Williams and I met with Jerry Prevost of St. Johnsbury Academy this afternoon to finalize the game plan. He and his Culinary Arts students are in charge of preparing the entrees, and we couldn't be in better hands. Susan and I were treated to a sample of the chicken Parmesan -- fork-tender, juicy, flavorful, and -- important! -- sauced to perfection. I am seriously picky about the sauce.

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(PS -- Susan and I agree: Jerry is wonderful.)

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While I've thrown the occasional ungainly party for a few dozen or so, this seated affair for 100 is quite a different kettle of fish. I'm honored and humbled to have been asked to take part. It felt great to be in the South Congregational Church kitchen this afternoon. I'm looking forward to the first dinner guests walking through the door to the sight of linen-topped tables and gorgeous young servers swirling about, the aroma of herb-infused sauce and fresh garlic bread filling the air, wonderful music playing in the background.

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And in a nod to Julia, I'll wear my Tahitian pearls along with the requisite apron and hair-in-a-bun. I'll aim to imitate her on-screen collected cool. For this one evening, we'll do it up right.

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Sour Cream Cheesecake

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We're gathering recipes for the Habitat for Humanity Fundraising dinner on April 17th. For our dessert buffet, we'll offer Tiramisu, Chocolate Torte, Lemon Pound Cake with Limoncello cream, and Cheesecake with assorted toppings.

Cheesecake was my mother's signature dessert, and raspberries her favorite accompaniment. She often served it with her own raspberry sauce, or spread rich preserves over an almond crust before topping with the creamy filling and baking. A holiday was simply incomplete without a luscious serving.

My mother made this so often she never bothered with writing it down. It's impossible to capture the magic she brought to baking, but here's the basic method.

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SOUR CREAM CHEESE CAKE

This makes a very creamy cheesecake. Best made the day before serving. My mother would often substitute 1/2 cup heavy cream for the sour cream. Often, too, she would separate the eggs, and whip the whites, then blend the yolks into the cream cheese mixture, and finally gently fold the whites into the mixture. This makes the cake fluffier and lighter, but is more trouble. I'm usually too lazy . . . Can use less sugar -- I have a sweet tooth.

Prepared graham cracker or almond crust, on bottom only of 9 inch spring-form pan. (Recipe below.)

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3 8-ounce packages cream cheese (not low fat)

1 ¼ cups sugar

¾ cup sour cream

2 to 3 teaspoons vanilla

3 eggs

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All ingredients MUST be at room temperature before you begin.

Preheat oven to 275 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, beat cream cheese until smooth. Add the sugar, vanilla, and sour cream and beat until well combined and again, very smooth.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs. With the beaters running very slowly, mix eggs into the cream cheese mixture only until incorporated. Avoid overbeating or beating on too high a speed. This will toughen the cake.

Pour into the spring form pan. Place pan on top of a cookie sheet, and place in center of preheated oven.

Bake for one hour. Turn off oven and open door. Hold the door ajar with a knife. Allow cake to sit in oven for 30 to 40 minutes longer.

Remove from oven. Run knife around edges of pan. Allow to cool slightly, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate 6 hours of preferably over night.

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Standard recipe for the crust, adapted for bottom only:

1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs (finely ground in processor

from about 12 whole graham crackers)

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1 tablespoon all purpose flour

3 tablespoons melted butter

Pinch of salt

Blend graham cracker crumbs, sugar, flour, and pinch of salt in processor. Add melted butter and process until crumbs are moistened. Lightly butter a 9 inch spring form pan. Transfer crumb mixture into pan; press mixture firmly onto bottom of pan. Bake crust until set, about 10 minutes. Cool crust in pan completely. Be sure to lower oven temperature before baking the cheesecake.

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Marinated Steaks with diced tomatoes and pasta

I'm doing my taxes today.

I've just started. It's only April 8th. But I'm TurboTaxing this year, and there's hope. So far, so good.

But after a few hours of this, I'm looking forward to dinner. It needs to be delicious and substantial, and, well, comforting. A salad and a glass of mineral water won't cut it tonight.

When we were on Capri (oh, don't I sound full of myself?), we had the loveliest beef and pasta dish I've ever encountered. Amazing rib eye steaks were seared and then, apparently to this palate, finished off with oregano, diced tomatoes, and rich olive oil, and served with linguine. Simple, and staggeringly good. The flavor was out of this world.

So this evening, we can't eat on a high porch above a scenic street on the Isle of Capri, drinking in the aroma of bougainvillea and the chatter of beautiful strangers in the semi-darkness. But we can fix up a meal enjoyed one wonderful evening and reminisce.

I don't have well-marbled rib eyes in the fridge, so I'm marinating individual round steaks with a blend of olive oil and a little apple cider vinegar, quite heavily seasoned with garlic, oregano, salt and pepper. When we're hungry, I'll put on a pot of water to boil, then pour some of the marinade into a hot skillet and sear the steaks on both sides. I'll add a large can of diced tomatoes with their juices. Maybe add a small can of tomato sauce, too, depending on how many are coming to the table.

I'll season with more oregano, salt, pepper and garlic, some crushed red pepper (we want this spicy), and allow the steaks to simmer over low heat while the water comes to a boil. Adjust seasonings. Drain the pasta, top with the sauce, extra virgin olive oil, and slivers of good cheese (we've got Locatelli on hand) and serve alongside the steaks.

I'm ready to cook right now. Who knew that number-crunching works up such an appetite?

A Post in Which Audrey Hepburn Makes an Entirely Gratuitous Appearance

So we’re wondering, on a late afternoon so very beautiful it is likely a sin to set the brain in motion on subjects any more serious than remembering the location of one’s Flip Flops or retro Ray-Bans, just what is the difference between a crumble, a crisp, and a cobbler.

This isn’t merely an exercise; we’ve been asked to bring a dessert to an Easter gathering, and it’s wise, as someone who now and then purports to know a thing or two about food, to get the nomenclature correct.

Each of course is a fairly simple affair: fruit -- with added sugar or syrups or flavorings or not -- is tossed into a pie pan or casserole and dressed before baking with some sort of floury hat. In short, a cobbler is topped with spoonfuls of biscuit dough; a crumble gets scattered with a simple, sweetened pastry mix; and a crisp, the sweetest of them all, revels in a rich streusel.

So, it’s a crisp we’ll make in the morning. It is, after all, Easter. We’ll bring a half-gallon of good vanilla ice cream to go along, just in case the glucose rush isn’t enough.

Apple-Toffee Crisp with Maple Syrup and Pecans

7 or 8 of your favorite baking apples, cored, peeled and sliced (I like Galas; Granny Smiths are great, too)

1/4 cup lemon juice

2/3 cup toffee bits

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup dark brown sugar

Cinnamon or vanilla extract if desired

1 cup chopped pecans

Maple syrup (we use Grade B)

Additional butter

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Toss the apples with the lemon juice. Butter a 13 by 9 inch baking dish, and spread the apples into it. Sprinkle with toffee bits.

Make the streusel: In a small bowl, mix together the flour and brown sugar. Add 1 or 2 teaspoons of cinnamon, or a similar amount of vanilla extract, if you like. Slice the butter into bowl, then, with two knives or a pastry cutter, cut the butter pieces into the mixture until well-distributed. Scatter the streusel over the apples.

Bake uncovered for about 25 minutes, until apples are tender and streusel starts to brown. Remove from the oven; top with the pecans and drizzle with maple syrup. Return to the oven for 5 to 10 more minutes, until browned and bubbly.

This is a simple and less soupy crisp than some. I add no sugar to the apples themselves. If you have a real sweet tooth, toss them with 1/2 cup granulated or brown sugar before placing them in the baking dish. And if you want a lot of topping, use 1/4 cup more each of butter, sugar, and flour.

Serve hot with ice cream or sweetened whipped cream. Excellent for the occasional breakfast on a sunny morning as well, we might add. Hat and oversized dark glasses optional.

Stuffed Red Peppers with Pasta

THERE ARE MANY THINGS IN LIFE that are best left unwitnessed, largely unspoken, or entirely to the imagination. The grinding of meat is one of them.

Having seen the excellent film Food, Inc., and read a number of illuminating research papers from my Lyndon State students on the unfortunate path a simple hamburger might take from pasture to holding pen to porcelain plate, I'd decided recently that we as a family would never again eat ground beef that I hadn't myself sent through a grinder. I mean no disrespect to anyone who might differ, but for my own peace of mind, I'm making friends with my Weston Heavy Duty Manual Meat Grinder, Model # 10.

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I'll say this now and be done with it: the process is pretty disgusting. It's not for the faint of heart. And that's perhaps enough information. But if you're game to take a crank at the handle, you'll have freshly ground meat with far less chance of bacterial contamination, with no added ammonia, and with a fat content you can control. I believe it's worth it.

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We made the loveliest stuffed red peppers with our first home-ground round steak. This recipe serves 4 to 6.

3 large red peppers

Olive oil

1 pound freshly ground beef

1 chopped onion

28 ounce can unflavored tomato sauce, or homemade marinara

Basil, dried or fresh as you have on hand

1 tablespoon minced garlic

Salt and pepper

1/2 pound mozzarella, sliced or grated

1 pound spaghetti

Freshly grated Parmesan

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Slice the peppers in half from stem to end, and carefully remove the stem, seeds and core to form little bowls. Rinse and set aside.

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Add a little olive oil to sauce pot and heat. Add the garlic and saute for one minute. If using dried basil, add it now and toss it around in the oil until it releases its aroma. Add the can of sauce, season with salt and pepper, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer.

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Preheat the oven to 375 degrees, and put a large pot of water on the stove to heat for the pasta.

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Place a large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Coat the bottom with olive oil. Add the onion and saute until lightly browned. Add the ground meat, season with salt and pepper and more garlic if you like, and saute until browned and cooked through. Add about 1/3 of the tomato sauce and cook for five minutes. Add a little water if necessary to keep the mixture moist.

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Coat the bottom of a baking dish with a little olive oil. Fill the pepper halves with the meat mixture, and set inside the dish. Top with mozzarella and place in the oven.

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After 25 to 30 minutes, place a pot of water on the stove over high heat. When boiling, add the pasta. You'll want the peppers to bake about 40 to 50 minutes, or until the peppers are somewhat softened and the cheese is beginning to brown.

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Drain the pasta, and serve it along side the peppers, topped with some marinara and grated cheese. If using fresh basil, add it to the sauce just before serving.

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It is simply too beautiful a day to cook. High 50s and the bluest sky ever in mid-March? Makes a body want to dance. It's an "assemble the meal" day here in the Northeast Kingdom if there ever was one.
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So, steak salad is on the menu. Simple and satisfying. Get yourself a London broil. Marinate if that's what you're all about, but because you'll be slicing very thinly, it's not all that necessary. Broil to your personal taste of rareness (I'm a 'pink-red' in the middle sort myself), and set aside while you make the sauce.
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And that's easy, too. One part soy sauce, one part good balsamic vinegar, seasoned with a little minced garlic and freshly ground black pepper, plus a splash of hot Chinese chili sauce to add some heat if you like. Needs nothing else, though feel free to doctor with some Worcestershire for a bit more of a traditional taste.
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But let's revisit that 'good' balsamic vinegar. What makes for 'good'? There's lots of rotgut stuff out there. "Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena" and "Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Reggio Emilia" are reductions that have been aged for at least a dozen years. Expensive to produce, they are frequently imitated by pucker-producing pretenders that contain colors and thickeners.
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So what's to be done? Shop around and compare. You are more likely to find affordable, good quality balsamic vinegars at your local co-op than grocery store. Find a 'daily use' balsamic for mixing into dressings and sauces. Use the best quality sparingly where it will really count.
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However. My mother had a trick that I will share with you. It won't fool the purists, but it will provide a rich and lovely ingredient to add to dressings and the simple sauce we're pouring on our steak salad today.
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Mom would take a bottle of inexpensive balsamic vinegar, pour it into a saucepan, add a few tablespoons of brown sugar, and let the whole thing reduce until somewhat thickened. The aroma at first will be off-putting, but persevere. Watch carefully and taste-test often, because as you reach the desired thickness, you run the risk of over simmering and burning the reduction. Allow to cool and pour it into a pretty bottle. See what a few spoonfuls do for your regular salad dressing.
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Back to today's steak salad: slice the meat quite thinly against the grain. Assemble the slices over a salad of baby greens, sliced red pepper, mushrooms, onion -- whatever you like best. Toss together the dressing and spoon over the salad. Serve immediately with a hunk of bread and a glass of something luscious and red.
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And that, my friends, is dinner.
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Pictured above: Charlotte-Aglaé d'Orléans, 18th Century duchess of Modena, from whence the loveliest balsamic vinegar comes. Most likely the cup she's raising held something other below the rim, but when you're a beautiful duchess, I suspect life splashes its share of the bitter and the sweet.

Bison chili with quick sweet cornbread

INSPIRED BY A RECIPE FOUND IN THE MAGAZINE OF La CUCINA ITALIANA: a simple and very satisfying winter soup to serve with sandwiches.

Slice 8 ounces of center-cut bacon into 1/2 inched pieces. In a Dutch oven (might I add how deeply in love I am with my Emeril Lagasse Dutch oven, which I found for a steal at T J Maxx?), saute bacon over medium heat until somewhat crisp. While bacon cooks, remove core and outer leafs from a large head of cabbage. Cut into slices about 1/2 inch thick and a few inches long. When the bacon is done, add the cabbage and cook, stirring frequently, until wilted.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Toast 4 slices of hearty bread, and heat to boiling about 10 cups of good quality chicken broth. When cabbage is quite wilted and cooked down, add the chicken broth and stir well. Top the soup with the bread. Cover and bake for 40 minutes.

Remove from oven. Stir the bread into the soup to thicken it. Top with 8 ounces of cheese: shredded or sliced fontina or mozzarella would work well. Return to oven and bake until browned and bubbly. Serve immediately.

The original recipe calls for a little pancetta, and placing the bread at the bottom of the Dutch oven before adding back the remaining ingredients, and no mixing before topping with cheese. But certainly there's lots of room for variation. Next time I will try adding the cheese directly to the softened slices before returning the pot to the oven to brown.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 19, 2010

Bison chili with quick sweet cornbread

OUR INTREPID TRAVELING GOURMET BILL BIDDLE writes for our February/March issue about using bison as one of the four meats in his 'serious' meatloaf. Insists upon it, as a matter of fact. Bison.

I confess to being new to bison, that is beyond their existence on the small and big screen. Recently, I was saddened to see one bison calf lose track of his mother and nearly drown during a river crossing and distraught to witness another dispatched rather handily by two hungry wolves on a PBS nature program. I could never man the camera for such a series -- I'd be forever shouting "look out!" or "shoo."

But I digress.

So, we were minding our own business at Price Chopper the other day, and there was a pound of ground bison. Kind of pricey. But given a refresher course about what actually goes into the stuff we take for ground beef these days (added to the meat -- ammonia-treated by-products that heretofore made their way only into dog and cat food), I am keen to select healthier alternatives.

And I'm told bison is healthier. Far less fatty. Grass fed. No hormones. Tastier and better for you all around.

Chili was on tap for the day. So I rustled up some, using that pound of bison. And I was not at all disappointed. The meat was very tasty, and there was simply no fat to be strained from it. The recipe that follows, served with a sweet and easy cornbread made with a doctored up mix, will feed four.

Season with a little salt and pepper, and, in a Dutch oven over medium heat, saute in a little olive oil until tender (or to your own taste) 1/2 chopped sweet onion, 1 chopped red pepper, and 1 chopped green pepper. When nearly tender, add 1 or 2 cloves of minced garlic.

Remove to a bowl. Add a little more olive oil to the Dutch oven, and, over medium-high heat, brown the bison. Return the sauteed vegetables. Add two cans of 'petite' diced tomatoes (those seasoned with chilis are perfect), one jar of your favorite salsa or picante sauce, 1 cup of beef broth or 1 small can of tomato sauce, if you like your chili on the 'saucy' side. Season as you like: either with a teaspoon or two of prepared chili mix, or some oregano, cumin, garlic, red pepper flakes, chili powder, salt and pepper. A shake or two of Tabasco or other chili pepper sauce works for those that like it hot.

Simmer over medium-low heat for 15 minutes, covered. Spoon into bowls and top as desired with chopped raw onion and peppers, more salsa, sour cream, and grated cheddar cheese. Serve immediately.

For a quick cornbread treat, try this:

2 packages of "Jiffy" cornbread mix

2 beaten eggs

1/3 to 1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup milk

4 tablespoons melted butter

Mix all ingredients together until just blended. Pour into a well-buttered pie plate. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes, until golden brown. Serve warm.

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SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 2010

Caramel Corn with Pecans

INSPIRED BY A RECIPE in this month's issue ofFood and Wine Magazine: Caramel Corn with Pecans. So easy and fun. Why don't we make this more often?

In a very large bowl or roasting pan, mix together about 12 cups of air popped popcorn (1 average microwavable bag) plus 1/2 cup coarsely chopped pecans. Set aside and make the caramel.

In a medium-sized pan over medium heat (I used a pan with a non-stick coating), bring to a boil 1 stick of butter, 1 cup brown sugar, and 1/3 cup Lyle's Golden Syrup (corn syrup will do, but Lyle's has such amazing flavor). Simmer for 3 to 4 minutes, until just golden brown in color. Don't let it darken too much. Carefully stir in a pinch of salt, if desired, and 1/2 teaspoon baking soda (caramel will foam up -- be careful).

NOW. What they don't tell you: don't pour the caramel over the popcorn all at once into a gob in the middle and expect to distribute the sweet stuff evenly. Pour slowly, stirring stir well but gently until all the popcorn is covered. You don't want to break up the corn into little pieces. I ended up pouring the popcorn out onto a long stretch of parchment paper and using my hands and the paper to facilitate this process.

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When cool enough to handle but still pliable, gather as necessary or break the caramel corn into small clusters or ping-pong ball sized balls and compact slightly. Either shape will make for a pleasing presentation.

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Many recipes call for baking in a slow oven for up to an hour, stirring occasionally, after mixing the caramel with the popcorn in order to dry and harden it. I did not find this necessary, but the step could help distribute the caramel.

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Not the wisest choice for folks with lots of dental work, perhaps, but awfully nice as a snack for Netflix night.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 2010

Apple Toffee Celebration

I had apples, I had toffee, and I was home alone with theKitchenAid . . . and so, Apple Toffee Cake was born. Inspired by a recipe found on "The Canadian Baker" blog.
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Beat together until light and fluffy 1/2 cup butter, softened, with 1/2 cup brown sugar and 1/2 cup granulated sugar. Add 2 eggs and 1 tablespoon vanilla. In another bowl, sift together 1 3/4 cups flour and 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder with a pinch of salt. Fold in gently to butter and sugar mixture, alternating with 1 1/2 cups whole milk, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Then, gently add about 3 cups chopped apples (about 4).
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Spread into a well-greased 13 by 9 inch baking pan. Bake in a pre-heated oven for 15 minutes.
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While cake is baking, make the topping. Combine 1 package (about 1 1/2 cups) toffee bits with 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup flour, and 4 to 6 tablespoons of melted butter. Add 2 teaspoons cinnamon if desired. Mix well. Remove cake from oven and sprinkle evenly with topping. Return cake to oven to complete baking -- another 15 to 20 minutes.
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Cool slightly before serving -- a scoop of ice cream finishes the dessert beautifully.

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Illustration by Vermont artist and writer Sharon Biddle.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 2010

Julia's Boeuf Bourguignon

OVER THE WEEKEND, I convinced a member of the opposite sex to suspend his better judgement and sit through two-plus hours of Amy Adams and Meryl Streep chopping, whisking, and braising in "Julie & Julia" (Read: I plied him with alcohol, peach-almond cobbler, and a promise to watch all three Rambo movies).


Having read Julie Powell's book, and given a half-hearted look at Child's memoir, My Life in France,I happily anticipated Nora Ephron's take on the women's parallel lives. And I wasn't disappointed. Food lovers, as well as fans of either or both actresses, who've been waiting for the DVD release should gobble it up. One reviewer stated that menfolk would be more likely to enjoy sticking a fondue fork in an eye than the movie itself; while it's true the film has a number of lines anyone would find hilarious, it's chick flick, and a good one, and Streep brings Julia Child to life as perhaps only she could do.


"This is a book for the servantless American cook," Mastering begins, "who can be unconcerned on occasion with budgets, waistlines, time schedules, children's meals, the parent--chauffeur--den-mother syndrome, or anything else which might interfere with the enjoyment of producing something wonderful to eat." In short, it's a complete education in 700 pages. Having myself no intention of working my way through the entire tome (especially the section on sweetbreads and brains), I admire Julie Adam's determination to see the cooking through that led to her blog, her book, and ultimately the big-budget movie.


Cooks eager to recreate Julia's Boef Bourguignon, the dish the young chef prepares (twice) and speaks of in such referential terms, can follow this link to a PDF of the recipe, courtesy of Knopf Doubleday.

http://cooking.knopfdoubleday.com/2009/07/13/julia-childs-boeuf-bourguignon-recipe/

Bon Appetit!

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 2010

Nick Stellino's Pasta with Pine Nuts, Raisins, and Tomatoes

MANY THANKS TO NICK STELLINO, who has graciously offered several wonderful recipes for our February/March issue. Featured here: Pasta with Pine Nuts, Raisins, and Tomatoes.

I've been a fan of Nick Stellino's since his early PBS shows and cookbooks, including the wonderful "Cucina Amore," a compendium of traditional, delicious treats from antipasti to dolci, many accompanied by vignettes and memories of Stellino's Sicilian family. I loved it, and on many pages, I scribbled little notes of acclaim. I remember playing over and over a CD -- alas, now lost --of dinner music that came with the book.

And now, Nick is back with a new show on Create: Cooking with Friends. A companion cookbook was published last year.

You'll find lots of marvelous recipes on Nick's website:http://www.nickstellino.com

Pasta with Pine Nuts, Raisins and Tomatoes

Pasta Inchiummata

Serves 6

Ingredients

11/4 cups raisins

1 pound penne rigate

9 tablespoons olive oil

8 garlic cloves, thickly sliced

1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

3/4 cup pine nuts

1 cup peeled, seeded and diced tomatoes (approximately 4-5 tomatoes)

4 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil

4 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

Grated zest of one lemon

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

5 tablespoons Italian-style bread crumbs, toasted (See Chef's Tip.)

5 tablespoons freshly grated Romano cheese

Soak the raisins in 2 cups of water for 20 minutes. Drain and discard the water; set the raisins aside.

Cook the pasta in boiling water according to the directions on the package until al dente.
In a large sauté pan over medium-high heat, heat the oil until sizzling, about 3 minutes. Stir in the garlic, red pepper flakes, raisins and pine nuts. Cook for 3 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes, parsley, basil, mint, lemon zest, salt and pepper, then cook for 3 more minutes. Add the cooked pasta to the sauce. Cook until the pasta is coated with the sauce, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Toss the pasta in the pan with the bread crumbs. Turn off the heat. Add the cheese and stir well.

Chef's tip. To make toasted bread crumbs, heat a nonstick pan over high heat for 2 minutes. Add the bread crumbs, reduce the heat to low, and stir well for 1 to 2 minutes, until the bread crumbs start to brown. Pour the bread crumbs onto a plate to cool off until ready to use.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2010

Cornbread stuffing with cranberry topping

WE WERE INSPIRED BY THE CORNBREAD and cranberry stuffing served with a crispy half duck at the Loon Lodge in Rangeley, Maine, and so, crafted a simple version to have at home. First, we baked a dish of cornbread, using a basic recipe of 1 1/4 cup flour, 3/4 cornmeal, 1/4 sugar, 2 teaspoons of baking powder, and 1 teaspoon salt. We sifted these ingredients together, then added 1 cup whole milk, 1 beaten egg, and 3 tablespoons melted butter, and stirred until just mixed. We baked this, for 20 minutes at 400 degrees, in a well-buttered ten-inch spring form pan, to make a thinner bread with a crispier crust, perfect for a stuffing. A half-cup or more of whole fresh or thawed frozen berries would have made a fine addition, but, to be honest, we sort of didn't think about it . . .

So, let the bread cool. Meanwhile, saute in a little butter or corn oil until tender some sliced onion, celery, and mushrooms. I used 8 ounces of the later and under a half-cup of each of the two former, as that's what I had on hand. I seasoned with salt, pepper, and celery seed. Add 1/2 cup of water or chicken stock, stir and heat through.

While that's cooking, combine 1 1/4 cups each of fresh or frozen cranberries and sugar along with 1/2 cup orange or grapefruit juice and 1/4 cup Triple Sec in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Lower heat and simmer about 10 minutes, until sauce thickens and berries are tender as desired.

Remove half the cornbread from the pan and chop into 1 inch squares. Place in a bowl along with any crumbs. Combine with sauteed vegetables. If mixture is too dry, moisten with a little melted butter or soupcon of water or more broth. Place in a buttered baking dish and bake at 35o degrees until heated through and, if desired, browned on top.

Serve the stuffing topped with warm cranberry sauce. Serves 3 or 4 as a side dish. Double for hungrier appetites. Don't wait for duck; this was lovely along side a plain old pot roast.