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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