From the Oct., 2013 Bon Appétit

Unlike summer when my idea of the perfect breakfast is a bowl of Grape Nuts buried under a mound of fat blackberries, something about the arrival of fall puts me in the mood for a more substantial start to the day—the sort of meal that could power me through a game of touch-football if I was ever inclined to do such a thing (which, of course, I’m not). For that reason, and because Alfredo and I are still trying to steer clear of flour and grains (though I did eat some couscous last night; it arrived with my dinner and I couldn’t resist), the attached frittata recipe jumped out at me, insisting I give it a try. That in and of itself was surprising, since as a rule I’m generally not much of a frittata fan. For one thing I prefer my eggs on the wet side—a quality that by its very nature a frittata can’t deliver—and for another, the dish has always struck me as a little played-out… the sort of thing you see on a menu and then glaze over. But this version had a few things going for it that got me excited, namely chorizo sausage, broccoli rabe, and grated cheddar cheese (which I swapped out for Manchego; more on that later).

Really it was the broccoli rabe that grabbed me initially, since I’ve been having a love affair with this leafy green for the past few months. I’m not sure why it took so long for me to warm to its charms, but now that I have I can’t get enough of its slightly bitter flavor, or with the way it lends itself to so many of the things I love—namely garlic, olive oil, and, of course, sausage. In fact, one of my favorite weeknight dinners of late has been sautéed broccoli rabe with chunks of hot Italian sausage, an idea that came to me as I was picking through a friend’s unfinished dish of Cavatelli Pugliese and discovered it wasn’t the pasta that interested me so much as the bits of sausage and strands of tender broccoli rabe that are the noodles’ co-stars. So here was a breakfast dish that combined those same two enticing ingredients, but wrapped them in an airy egg mixture, not to mention a glaze of salty cheese. In other words, what’s not to love?

Unlike an omelet where the various add-ons are introduced to eggs that have already been cooked through, a frittata generally calls for folding your various savory ingredients into the uncooked egg mixture, then pouring the combo into your skillet and allowing the whole thing to bake together—first on the stove and then under the broiler. In the case of this recipe, however, it’s the cheese (or a portion of it, anyway) and the whole milk that’s added to the eggs, and the resulting eggy mixture that’s then introduced to the other ingredients. These include half a medium-sized onion that’s been chopped and allowed to cook over medium heat alongside a ½ lb of fresh chorizo sausage (removed from its casings) for eight minutes or so, or until the onion is tender, the meat is brown, and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth because the combination smells so good. To this you add your pile of chopped broccoli rabe—seasoned generously with salt and pepper—a sizable mound that’s likely to push your skillet to capacity and make stirring a challenge (if so, introduce the greens in increments, adding the remainder as it cooks down).

Once the greens are tender (including the thick, stalky bits)—a state that will also mean the entire combination is now sitting comfortably in your pan—it’s time to reduce the heat to low and add the eggs, pouring the mixture evenly across the surface of the sautéed sausage and broccoli rabe. At this point you can pretty much step back and read the Sunday papers for a while, since the secret to a frittata is slow cooking. Here that means a relatively long 10 to 12 minutes, a period during which the contents of the pan will require nothing more from you than the occasional shake to discourage sticking. Once the edges are just set, sprinkle the surface with the remaining cheese and slide your pan under the broiler for four minutes or so, until the top of the frittata is golden brown and the center is set. Remove from the oven, slice, and serve—either warm or at room temperature. Which brings me to one of the distinct advantages of a frittata over other breakfast egg dishes: because of its baked, quiche-like quality, it doesn’t have to be eaten right out of the oven, but can be enjoyed hours, even a day, later. (Anyone for leftovers?).

And regarding my switch from cheddar to Manchego, I made the substitution for the simple reason that I’m leaning towards sheep’s- over cow’s-milk cheeses these days—and also because I love the nutty, salty flavor of Manchego (which I just happened to have a quantity of in the fridge). Cheddar will probably melt a little better, and no doubt it will imbue the finished dish with a sunnier, more lustrous appearance, but I liked the subtle, salty kick offered by the Manchego. Either way, the net result is a healthy, homey breakfast that can feed a crowd… or in my case, two over-eaters.

Ingredients:
—12 large eggs
—1/2 cup whole milk
—3/4 cup grated cheddar, divided
—Kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper
—2 tbs vegetable oil
—1/2 medium onion, chopped
—1/2 lb. fresh Spanish chorizo or hot Italian sausage link, casings removed
—1 bunch broccoli rabe, coarsely chopped

Directions:
—Preheat broiler. Whisk eggs and milk in a medium bowl. Mix in ½ cup cheddar; season with salt and pepper and set aside.
—Heat oil in a large skillet, preferably cast-iron, over medium heat. Add onion and chorizo and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is softened and chorizo is brown, 6 to 8 minutes.
—Add broccoli rabe; season with salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender, 8 to 10 minutes longer.
—Reduce heat to low and pour reserved egg mixture over vegetables. Cook, shaking pan occasionally, until edges are just set, 10 to 12 minutes.
—Top frittata with remaining ¼ cup cheddar; broil until top is golden brown and center is set, about 4 minutes longer.
—Cut frittata into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature.
—Note: Frittata can be made 2 hours ahead. Let cool, then cover.

The post 10/02/13 • SAUSAGE FRITTATA appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the April/May, 2013 Fine Cooking

Ninety-nine postings ago—back when I first started this blog to be precise—I’d often define my vision for the site by jokingly telling friends the one thing it would never include: a scone recipe. (I know; hilarious.) At the time I genuinely felt like scones were overplayed in the U.S. (I still do, actually), which wouldn’t have mattered much except for the fact that I never found them to be particularly pleasant or satisfying either. Maybe I was missing the good butter or clotted cream that traditionally shows up beside them at tea-time in England, or maybe the various examples I’d sampled in recent years were simply poor American imitations of the Scottish standard, but scones always struck me as, well, kind of dry and heavy. In other words, there was a reason they rhymed with stone. All of which makes it a little surprising that in flipping through the April/May issue of Fine Cooking it would be a scone recipe I’d zero in on—and not just zero in on, but keep circling, and returning to. Almost immediately it was a recipe I wanted to try. But I also knew I couldn’t… because I’d already said I never would! And then finally I gave in and decided to eat my words. I’m glad I did.

What I realized as I studied the recipe and the accompanying photos (and by the way, it was definitely not the photos that enticed me; I may be a fan of the occasional recipe in Fine Cooking, but their pictures rarely inspire me to take action) was that I hadn’t always felt this way about scones. In fact, many years ago, while visiting Edinburgh, I had one of those food/travel experiences that stay with you forever and change the way you feel about a particular item—in this case, establishing a scone standard that no subsequent experience ever equaled. And so I kept the memory intact by staying away from the disappointing examples that are now a staple of virtually every American coffee bar (a concept that didn’t even exist when I had my big scone moment in Scotland—which should give you an idea of how long ago it was).

But as I read through the recipe and the brief piece of writing that ran alongside it, I was reminded that dry and heavy are not necessarily qualities that need to be associated with scones. (Certainly, they hadn’t been part of my Edinburgh experience.) In fact, one of the things that jumped out at me about this recipe was the writer’s strategy (or strategies; there are several) for ensuring a light, flaky, buttery result—the intersection between cake and piecrust, as she puts it.)

The first and most critical of these has to do with the heavy cream that’s a standard ingredient in most scone recipes. Here, that cream is whipped into soft peaks prior to being folded into a mixture of the dry ingredients and the butter, a trick that ensures the finished product will be flaky and soft. What’s more, by chilling the mixing bowl and the beaters for 15 minutes or so prior to mixing, the cream is able to stay chilled during whipping, thereby allowing the maximum amount of air to be trapped.

Those two steps alone are probably enough to ensure a better scone than most you’ll find at your local coffee bar, but the tips don’t end there. Of these additional suggestions, some may seem self-evident to anyone who has done some baking (don’t overwork the dough when kneading; use a sharp knife when slicing the uncooked dough), though others were ones that would never have occurred to me. To this last group I include suggestions like using a mixture of honey and sugar (needed to achieve the proper balance between lightness and color—the sugar being lighter than the honey, the honey delivering the all-important golden hue to the cooked dough), and wrapping the just-out-of-the-oven scones in a clean tea towel to trap the steam (which makes them that much more tender). In total, all of these suggestions combine to produce something that is remarkably soft and flaky—still with that signature buttery, floury flavor, but with none of that stick-in-the-back-of-your throat quality that’s so often a part of the scone-eating experience.

Add a handful of currants as I did here (instructions for this and a few other flavor variations are included below) and I’m willing to bet that whatever your present feelings may be about scones, they’ll grow that much stronger after giving these a try. For myself, all I can say is I’m through with sweeping food pronouncements.

Ingredients:
—1 cup plus 2 tsp chilled heavy cream
—2 1/3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour; more as needed
—3 tbs granulated sugar
—1 tbs baking powder (preferably aluminum-free)
—3/8 tsp fine sea salt or table salt
—10 tbs chilled unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes
—1 tbs plus 1 tsp honey
—1 tbs turbinao sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw) or granulated sugar
—Butter, clotted cream, and jam (optional, for serving)

Note: See “variations” below, for optional flavoring ingredients.

Directions:
—Chill a medium metal mixing bowl and the beaters of an electric hand mixer (or the bowl and whisk attachment of a stand mixer) in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes. (Note: beating the cream in a chilled bowl with chilled mixers help to keep the cream cold so it can trap the maximum amount of air as it’s whipped.)
—Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and heat the oven to 400˚. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
—Beat 1 cup of the cream in the chilled bowl on medium-high speed just until soft peaks form, 1½ to 2½ minutes; refrigerate while you mix the other ingredients.
—In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the butter and toss with your fingers to coat. Press the butter between your fingers to form very thin flakes, tossing them back in the flour mixture between passes until all of the butter is pressed into dime-size flakes.
—Make a well in the center of the mixture and add the whipped cream and honey. Use a silicone spatula to fold the ingredients together until incorporated.
—Lightly knead the dough in the bowl just until it holds together. Turn it onto a lightly floured counter. Gently knead it a few more times, then transfer it to a 9-inch cake pan lined with plastic wrap and pat it into a flat disk (or shape it by hand on a cutting board into a 9x¾-inch disk). Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 10 minutes.
—If the dough was shaped in a cake pan, invert it onto a cutting board. Remove the plastic.
—With a sharp knife (note: a dull knife will seal the edges and inhibit rising), cut the dough into 8 even wedges. Arrange the wedges 2 inches apart on the baking sheet. Brush the scones with the remaining 2 tsp cream and sprinkle with the turbinado sugar.
—Bake the scones until lightly browned on top, 15 to 20 minutes.
—Spread an unscented, lint-free linen or cotton towel on a large wire rack and put the baked scones on top. Fold the towel over loosely and allow the scones to cool until warm or at room temperature before serving. (Note: wrapping the scones traps the steam, which keeps them soft.)

Note: The scones can be stored in an air-tight container at room temperature for 2 days or frozen for 3 months. Reheat room-temperature scones in a 350˚ oven for 10 minutes. Reheat frozen scones in a 300˚ for 20 minutes. The scones are ready to serve when the outside is crunchy and a wire cake tester inserted in the center feels warm.

Variations:
To make flavored scones, mix any of the following in with the dry ingredients.
—For currant scones, add ½ cup dried currants.
—For cranberry-orange scones, add ¾ cup dried cranberries and 1 tbs finely grated orange zest.
—For lemon-poppy scones, add 1½ tbs poppy seeds and 1 tbs finely grated lemon zest.
—For ginger scones, add 1 tsp powdered ginger, 1 tsp finely grated lemon zest, and 2/3 cup candied ginger cut into 1/8- to ¼-inch pieces.

Makes 8 scones

The post 03/29/13 • CREAM SCONES appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the Feb., 2013 Bon Appétit

I have to confess that even with Hurricane Sandy still fresh in my memory I found much of the media coverage surrounding the approach of last weekend’s snowstorm a little hard to take seriously. Friday morning dawned with banner headlines on the local news announcing things like “the blizzard of 2013,” and continued with dire warnings that city residents should “be off the streets by 3:00 pm,” all of which sounded a little, well, dramatic. To my surprise, though, people seemed to heed the warnings—when I left the house at 7:30 am there were noticeably fewer cars on the roads than normal (and more to the point, not a single taxi, which meant a long walk in the rain for me). But clearly all those “breaking news” bulletins were warranted, because even if the snow totals in New York City were only average, had I driven out to eastern Long Island at the end of the day as planned, Alfredo and I may well have spent the weekend stuck in a snowdrift like so many other unlucky folks, as the snow there was much heavier. Instead, I went home to cook the sorts of dishes that at least provide the impression that all is safe in the world. (Over the weekend I caught a snippet of an interview with Nigella Lawson, who confessed that the first thing she does when returning from a trip is to put a chicken in the oven, since it’s only when the smell permeates her kitchen that she knows she’s home; that’s more or less what I’m talking about here.)

Like Ms. Lawson I’d put roast chicken high on that feel-good list, just as I would this recipe for rösti with fried eggs (which comes from the current issue of Bon Appétit). Now unless you’ve had some experience eating your way through Switzerland you’re probably wondering what rösti is; the answer is simple: a very large potato pancake or hash-brown patty, topped (in true Swiss style) with melted raclette or Gruyère cheese, and crowned with a fried egg (and a slice of salt-cured ham, if you’re up for it). The combination is seriously good, like that one really excellent mouthful of egg, potato, and ham you experience when the various components are cooked to perfection and you get the proportions on your fork exactly right. Of course, hash browns are one of those basic dishes that almost no one knows how to make exactly right (and by that, I mean golden and crunchy on the outside, soft but not mushy on the inside). Which is, in-and-of-itself, reason enough to try this recipe. Because even if you forgo the cheese, the ham, and the egg, you will, at least, have learned how to make THE PERFECT HASH BROWN. And that, my friends, is one skill you will be glad to have mastered.

I was anyway. The secret, as with so many dishes, comes down to a few simple steps. The first and most important is parboiling the potatoes, until the tip of a sharp knife can be inserted easily a 1/2-inch or so into the flesh—a process that takes between 8 and 10 minutes. This is key because the potatoes are ultimately to be exposed to a second cooking, so keeping them a little underdone at this stage ensures they won’t be the consistency of baby food when delivered in the form of a pancake. The next step involves chilling the potatoes in the refrigerator for a few hours once the parboiling is complete. This may seem inconvenient, even cruel if you’re hungry, but it’s vital. Why? Because it allows the potato’s flesh to retract, which makes the grating process easier and the resulting potato shavings more likely to hold their shape, both immediately off the grater as well as once they’re fully cooked.

Of course, the actual frying of the potatoes is an equally critical step—a process marked more by what you don’t do (stir, or otherwise fuss with the pancake) than what you do do, which is basically to let the potatoes cook undisturbed over medium-low heat for 20 minutes or so until the edges look crunchy and golden brown. First, though, melt a generous quantity of butter in an ovenproof skillet (nonstick ideally—just make sure it’s oven safe) then add the potatoes, along with the salt and pepper. Next, gently press the mixture with a spatula until it’s uniform and spread evenly across the base of the pan. At this point you can pretty much walk away, though a few return visits are necessary to gently shake the skillet, just to ensure that the pancake doesn’t get too comfortable and refuse to let go once it’s time to flip it.

Yes, flip it. It’s a directive that gave me a moment of anxiety—a not unreasonable reaction given the fact that no matter how perfectly browned and uniform the pancake may be at this point, screw up the flipping stage and it’s all been for nothing. That said, as outlined in the instructions, the process is manageable enough, and is achieved by simply sliding the pancake out of the frying pan and onto a large plate, then inverting the pan on top of the plate and turning over the plate/pan assemblage, so the pancake’s uncooked side is resting at the bottom of the skillet. Easy enough, though two things will help to assure your success: the first is using a nonstick pan, as previously mentioned; the second is working with something closer to a cake-plate than a dinner-plate, as the raised edge associated with the latter can interfere with the smooth transfer of potato to platter. Also, if possible try to use a plate that’s not too heavy as a smooth flipping motion will minimize the possibility of mishaps. In any case, once returned to the skillet the pancake needs a little more butter and another 15 minutes on the fire to complete the browning stage. Cut into quarters and voila you have the perfect hash brown.

To enjoy the full rösti experience, though, lay a slice of speck (see explanation below) and the sliced cheese (not grated as shown; I was experimenting and found that sliced cheese does, in fact, work better) across the surface of the pancake and slide into the 300˚ oven for between five and eight minutes, or until the cheese is nice and gooey. Remove from the oven, cut into quarters, and top with a fried egg and the parsley. Winter comfort, courtesy of Switzerland!

And one final note on fried eggs—another basic cooking skill I’ve always found challenging. The BA recipe includes standard instructions for this but as I rarely find the process to be as simple as presented I thought I’d include an alternate method (both are presented below), pulled from an earlier issue of the magazine. Here, instead of relying on the stove, the eggs are cooked (in a lightly oiled, nonstick skillet) in a 350˚ oven, an environment that seems to assure a more consistent temperature, and with it an egg that’s more reliably set where you want it to be set, and runny where you want it to be runny. Of course, if you’re following this rösti recipe and only have a single oven, you’ll need to stick with the standard technique and hope for the best. It’s a nice to trick to have in your back pocket either way.

Ingredients:
—2 to 3 russet potatoes (about 1½ lbs)
—1/2 tsp Kosher salt (plus more for boiling potatoes)
—6 tbs (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, divided
—1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
—4 oz raclette or Gruyère cheese, sliced (not grated as shown here!)
—Several slices of speck (optional; see note below)
—4 large eggs
—Chopped flat leaf parsley

Note: Speck is a kind of Tyrolian salt-cured ham that’s typically flavored with Juniper. It can be found at many gourmet markets, or here.

Directions:
—Place potatoes in a large saucepan, add cold water to cover, and season generously with salt. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer until the tip of a paring knife slides easily about ½” into potatoes, 8 to 10 minutes. Drain potatoes and let cool. Chill until firm, about 2 hours.
—Preheat oven to 300˚. Peel potatoes. Using the large holes of a box grater, grate potatoes.
—Melt 4 tbs butter in a 12” ovenproof skillet over medium-low heat. Add potatoes. Season with salt and pepper; press gently to compact. Cook, occasionally shaking pan to loosen, until bottom is golden brown and crisp, 15 to 20 minutes.
—Slide rösti onto a plate. Carefully invert skillet over plate and flip to return rösti to pan, browned side up. Dot 1 tbs butter around edge, allowing it to melt around and under rösti. Season with salt and pepper and cook until second side is golden brown and center is tender, 10 to 15 minutes longer.
—Top rösti with speck (if using) and cheese and bake until cheese melts, 5 to 8 minutes.
—Meanwhile, melt remaining 1 tbs butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Crack eggs into skillet and cook until whites are just set, about 4 minutes. [See instructions for alternate cooking method, below]
—Cut rösti into quarters, top with speck (if using) and eggs, and garnish with parsley.

Serves 4

Note: As an alternate (and more reliable) method for cooking sunny-side-up eggs, try the following:
—Heat a lightly oiled nonstick skillet over medium heat. (Make sure skillet is ovenproof; not all are).
—Crack eggs into skillet so they’re evenly spaced.
—Transfer to a 350˚ oven and bake until whites are just set, about 4 minutes.
—Remove from oven, season the eggs with salt and pepper, and slide out of the pan onto a plate.

The post 02/14/13 • HASH BROWNS, FULLY LOADED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the Sept./Oct., 2012 Cook’s Illustrated

I’m going to keep this posting brief since between the enormous meal you’ve likely just consumed, the multitude of leftovers now residing in your fridge, and all the cooking you’ve had to do to get here, this probably isn’t the ideal moment for diving into some long-winded evaluation of a new recipe—no matter how stellar the results. In fact, I was so convinced this was the wrong moment for any further food talk that I’d pretty much decided to take the week off, with a planned return this time next week when everyone was just a little hungrier. And then it occurred to me that for all of these reasons this was the perfect occasion to share with you this accelerated recipe for old-fashioned, steel cut oatmeal.

The recipe is one I came across in Cook’s Illustrated several months ago. It immediately caught my eye because it resolves one of the big challenges of making oatmeal—how to deliver a smooth, nutty bowl of the stuff in a fraction of the forty minutes normally required. What’s more, the recipe offers a few simple techniques for flavoring the hot cereal with a variety of ingredients (apples, carrots, cranberries, etc.) . . . all genuinely useful, instructive information. And yet initially it felt too simple for me to bring to you here. That is, until I had the inner dialogue described above and realized simple (and sensible) was precisely what was called for on a week such as this one. Plus I’m a genuine oatmeal lover, so if this recipe/strategy is one I find helpful, who’s to say others of you won’t have the same reaction?

The secret lies in simply giving the oats an overnight soak. I say “simply,” but I realize that this step will pose its own challenges, as it requires devising a breakfast game plan before you go to bed, and that can be a tall order. Still, if you’re the organized sort or are capable of imagining what you might want to eat twelve or more hours in advance, this method has your name on it. And, in truth, once you’ve cleared this mental hurdle your work is essentially done, since all that’s required of you physically is to bring three cups of water to a boil, remove it from the heat, add a cup of oats and a small amount of salt to the hot liquid, give the whole thing a stir, cover it, and you’re done until morning. In other words, all of these steps can be completed in about the same amount of time (and with the same amount of effort) it takes to brush your teeth.

The reward, however, far outdistances these minimal exertions, as introducing the oats to the boiling water and then giving the mixture an overnight soak jump starts the process by which the grain breaks down—meaning it’s that much further along in the release of its starchy content. So when you lift the lid on your pot the next morning what you will find is something that already looks much like the oatmeal you will ultimately eat; the water will have turned white and creamy, and the oats themselves will have begun to plump and soften. All that remains (at least for the standard, unadulterated variety—more on the alternatives below) is to add the remaining cup of water, bring the mixture to a boil, and simmer over medium heat for another 4 to 6 minutes, or until the mixture is chewy and thick. Let the cereal stand for five minutes or so to thicken up, and it’s ready to be spooned into bowls and crowned with whatever enhancements strike your fancy.

And for the marginally more ambitious (“marginally” because there’s barely any more work involved) you can swap out the final cup of water for a milk/juice mixture and add a small amount of fruit and other goodies to achieve something that tastes less like what Oliver Twist might have eaten, and more like those instant oatmeal packets you find at the grocery store (though exponentially better, of course). Of the three offered by CI I prefer the apple-cinnamon version (reproduced below; for the carrot spice and cranberry orange varieties, follow the link at the top of this posting), one that replaces that final cup of water with a milk and apple juice mixture, and calls for the addition of a 1/2 cup of peeled and shredded carrot, a few tablespoons of brown sugar, a small amount of cinnamon, and a sprinkling of chopped walnuts. It’s a small change that manages to completely transform the flavor of the oatmeal into something reminiscent of apple pie, while still retaining the cereal’s signature chew and nutty flavor.

Inspired by this update on the traditional formula, I decided to follow the same proportions laid out by CI but swapping out the various ingredients to devise a pumpkin spice variety. So instead of a 1/2 cup of shredded apple I used a 1/2 cup of pumpkin purée (easily sourced at the supermarket), increasing the quantities of brown sugar and cinnamon slightly, and introducing a little freshly grated nutmeg and ginger into the mix as well (exact quantities are listed below). The result was as bright and crisp as a fall day—a supremely satisfying breakfast that was packed with seasonal flavor, but that didn’t make me feel as though I’d need to dial back on all subsequent meals. What more could you want for the morning after the biggest meal of the year?

Ingredients for standard variety:
—4 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/4 tsp salt
—Brown sugar, maple syrup, and/or dried fruit (for serving)

Ingredients for apple-cinnamon variety:
—3 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/2 tsp salt
—1/2 cup apple cider
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1/2 cup peeled, grated sweet apple
—2 tbs packed dark brown sugar
—1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
—Coarsely chopped toasted walnuts (about 2 tbs per serving)

Ingredients for TRG’s pumpkin spice variety:
—3 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/2 tsp salt
—1/2 cup apple juice
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1/2 cup solid-pack pumpkin purée
—3 tbs packed dark brown sugar
—1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
—1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
—1/4 tsp freshly chopped ginger
—Coarsely chopped toasted pecans (about 2 tbs per serving)

Directions for standard variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir remaining 1 cup water into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, passing desired toppings separately.

Directions for apple-cinnamon variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir 1/2 cup apple cider and 1/2 cup whole milk into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat. Stir in apple, brown sugar, and cinnamon.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, sprinkling each serving with 2 tbs chopped walnuts.

Directions for TRG’s pumpkin spice variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir 1/2 cup apple juice and 1/2 cup whole milk into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat. Stir in pumpkin, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, sprinkling each serving with 2 tbs chopped pecans.

Serves 4

The post 11/23/12 • OATMEAL, ACCELERATED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the March, 2012 Bon Appetit (click here to view the recipe)

As you’ve probably figured out by now, it’s often the simplest recipes that call out to me the loudest. In fact, when people ask what kind of food I tend to make, I’ve taken to describing it as “salt-and-pepper” cooking—a phrase I borrowed from Christopher Hirsheimer, one-half of the Canal House team, and a duo whose cookbooks and recipes are a constant source of inspiration for me. I suppose on some level that fuss-free approach makes sense when you’re operating out of a New York City kitchen with its limited counter and storage space, but I’m also just drawn to food that features big flavors and low production values. No matter what the size of my kitchen, I’d still rather eat a baked potato with just some butter and a sprinkling of fresh pepper and sea salt than I would the kind that’s had its insides scooped out, whipped up, and piped elaborately back into its jacket.

Having said all that, this posting is neither potato-related, nor does it come from the talented pair at Canal House. What it is, though, is the sort of simple, homey recipe that I think the duo might well appreciate—just as I suspect they would the basic baked potato described above. Either way, it’s one that immediately caught my eye, and that’s been sitting on my desk for months now, flagged with a yellow sticky, (and lodged in my memory bank), patiently waiting for its moment.

Have I even mentioned that this is a ham-and cheese waffle we’re talking about?! That’s critical here, as it goes a long way to explaining both why I couldn’t stop thinking about the recipe, and why timing was so key. Because even though the item ran in the March issue of Bon Appetit and was one of a very few that month to grab me by the apron strings, I knew it wasn’t an endeavor to be rushed into. After all, by their very nature there are only so many waffles one body can handle. And since there are few things more deflating than a stack of uneaten waffles, the right moment would require numbers greater than just Alfredo and me.

That occasion finally presented itself a few Sundays back, with several houseguests in residence—all of them enthusiastic eaters. At last, the moment had arrived! So early that morning I crept down to the kitchen and began assembling the various components, whisking first the dry ingredients, then the wet ones, beating the egg whites until soft peaks formed (meaning the peaks collapse on themselves as soon as you stop beating), and finally combining the three individual mixtures (the dry ingredients with the wet, followed by the egg whites) into one light, frothy concoction. It’s a quality enhanced by two components—the soda water, which provides the batter with a hint of all-important fizz, and those egg whites, which are folded into the wet/dry mixture and ultimately leave the batter looking like something destined for a soufflé dish. That’s key, as the goal here is to get the lightest possible waffle (or how else will you manage to eat four at one sitting?).

But as I discovered it’s not just the ease of preparing the batter that’s made waffle making a favorite for dads charged with Sunday morning breakfast duty; it’s also the fun that comes with cooking them. Pouring batter onto a hot surface, closing the lid, then opening it after five minutes of hissing and sputtering to reveal something all golden and steaming and crunchy-looking, is the best possible kind of magic trick, and can bring out the kid in you no matter what your age. Perhaps that’s why mid-way through cooking my friend, Dennis, and I started talking like that doyenne of Southern cuisine, Paula Deen (or rather, like SNL’s Kristin Wiig talking like Paula Deen), though that probably also had something to do with the very Southern quantities of butter called for by the recipe! And then, of course, there’s the heady fragrance leaking out the sides of the waffle iron in puffs of tantalizing steam—a blend of eggs and flour that casts its own singular spell. Seriously, it’s hard to imagine anything being wrong in the world when that lovely scent fills your kitchen!

In the case of this particular recipe, both of those qualities—the golden brown peaks and valleys, the buttery fragrance—are only enhanced by the addition of the shredded ham and the grated cheese, which the recipe suggests you sprinkle across the surface of the batter once it’s introduced to the hot waffle iron (see final paragraph below for an alternate approach to the cheese). The pair function in much the way ham and cheese layered within a really good croissant does. Which is to say that it takes something quite magnificent and makes it even more so, adding texture and flavor that bullhorns the various other ingredients. And herein lies the secret of this simple recipe: when you add the salty yin of ham and cheese to a waffle’s already sweet, malty yang, and then gild it with a pat of butter and a few shots of warm Maple syrup, you’re left with something that’s near impossible to stop eating.

A few final tips on the recipe: To ensure that the melted butter merges smoothly with the other wet ingredients, be sure to first bring the egg yolks, the buttermilk, and the soda water to room temperature (a half hour or so out of the fridge should do it). Also, even with a liberal spraying of non-stick vegetable oil to the waffle iron, I still found that the cheese caused the finished waffle to stick to the upper level of the iron. Instead, try adding the cheese to the batter before ladling it onto the iron’s hot surface. That way the cheese will be distributed throughout the body of the waffle and will not simply be limited to its upper ridges. In other words, a more consistently cheesy waffle and one that won’t cling to the top of your iron.

Ingredients:
—1¾ cups flour
—1 tbsp sugar
—2 tsp baking powder
—1 tsp baking soda
—1 tsp kosher salt
—3 large eggs, separated
—1 cup (2 sticks) melted butter, plus more for serving
—1 cup buttermilk
—3/4 cup soda water
—Non-stick vegetable oil spray
—1 cup thinly cut strips of cooked ham (about 1/2 lb)
—3/4 cup shredded sharp white cheddar (about 1/2 lb)
—Maple syrup

Special equipment:
—A waffle iron

Directions:
—Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Heat waffle iron until very hot. Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and kosher salt in a large bowl.
—Using an electric mixer, beat 3 large egg whites in a medium bowl until medium-soft peaks form.
—Whisk 3 large egg yolks, buttermilk, and soda water in a medium bowl; gradually whisk into dry ingredients. Fold in egg whites.
—Coat waffle iron with non-stick vegetable oil spray. Pour batter onto iron, spreading it into corners (amount of batter needed will vary according to machine). Scatter 1 rounded tbsp. of ham and 1 tbsp. shredded cheddar over each waffle (see final paragraph above for an alternate approach to the cheese). Cook until golden brown and cooked through (about 5 minutes). Transfer to a baking sheet; keep waffles warm in oven between batches. Serve with butter and warm maple syrup.

Makes 12 waffles

NOTE: This batter also makes a fine waffle without the addition of the ham and cheese.

The post 05/03/12 • THE WAFFLE, FULLY-LOADED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Sept., 2011 Bon Appetit

On a normal weekday morning, breakfast for me tends to go in one of two directions: the healthy option, consisting of some sort of whole grain cereal (Grape Nuts if I can find them) topped with a handful of berries and dampened with a little milk or yogurt, or the less healthy option, featuring a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel and a thick smear of cream cheese. Whichever direction I take (and lately it’s been the less healthy one) these various provisions are purchased at the Korean-run deli around the corner from my office, where the ladies manning the cash registers couldn’t be nicer, and the quality of the food — bagel, berry, what have you — is never better than just okay. While I sometimes wish for something a little more inspired to start the day, in the end there’s my desk to get to, and with it some sort of deadline to meet, and any fantasy of searching out a better breakfast is quickly swallowed up by more pressing concerns.

All of which makes those occasions when breakfast is something more that just a meal consumed in front of the computer screen an event worth elevating. Of course, such moments tend to fall on weekends or holidays, times when the first meal of the day happens somewhat later in the “morning,” and when it frequently does double duty as the second meal of the day as well. In other words, we’re talking Big Breakfasts here — the kind that in another time or place would fuel you through a morning spent baling hay or herding livestock but that for most of us these days is simply a good excuse to gather friends and family around the table to eat the sorts of foods we all love but rarely allow ourselves to indulge in. Not unlike Thanksgiving, though in a smaller, less gut-busting kind of way.

I suppose that’s one reason I was so drawn to this recipe for sweet potato and pork belly hash. Maybe it’s that the whole thing is cooked up in a skillet (I’ve already shared with you my weakness for this particular cooking implement), or that it makes ample use of one of fall’s signature vegetables, or that it employs the yin and yang of red wine vinegar and Maple syrup as a final flavoring component, but whichever the case, something about the dish struck the fantasy chord for me. In this, the recipe (from the September issue of Bon Appetit, an issue that keeps on giving — see posting from Sept. 8^th) produced the reaction I invariably hope for whenever I’m scanning instructions for a new dish, namely the immediate conjuring of a variety of tantalizing scenarios in which I might prepare it. Experience that and you know you’ve landed on a keeper.

That fantasy element is half the fun of reading cookbooks and cooking magazines (and one reason I like to do it just before turning out the lights each night). Of course, if your instincts are good, actually making and eating the dish can be just as pleasurable, as was the case here. Part of that for me was learning to prepare something I’ve never worked with before, namely pork belly. It’s an item that’s showing up on an increasing number of restaurant menus and for good reason — once cooked it’s wonderfully tender and flavorful. The catch is that getting it to this point requires a few steps, namely a slow braise in the oven, followed by an overnight stay in the fridge to further break it down, and finally the removal of the skin (steps illustrated in the images below). What’s more, it’s an item few butchers carry, so you’ll need to order it in advance, either through your local butcher, or via the online resource listed below.

If all that sounds like too much to bite off, you can always substitute the pork belly for slab bacon as I did on one occasion. The latter is something many butchers do tend to stock, and there are no preparatory steps involved, so it’s certainly an easier option. What’s more, the two are closely related (bacon is simply pork belly that’s been cured), so the switch is a logical one. Of course, there will be differences: bacon has a smokier flavor and a chewier texture (similar to that of the salty meat one finds in a frisee aux lardons salad) than the pork belly, whereas the pork belly is juicy and tender-crisp in a way the bacon can’t approach. All things being equal, I’d probably opt for the pork belly — there’s just something about the slightly fattier quality of the uncured pork that lends the dish a certain decadence, but either way, you can’t go wrong.

And the recipe couldn’t be easier — a bit of chopping (the shallots, the sweet potato), a series of quick sautés starting first with the meat, followed by the potatoes (I increased the pan time here from 10 minutes to 15, as I wasn’t convinced the potatoes would be tender enough), then finally the shallots. Once done all three are mixed together in the pan and drizzled with the syrup and vinegar, an addition that enhances the caramelized quality of the shallot and potatoes while underscoring the salty/sweet combination of flavors. Perfection. And a welcome addition to my Sunday morning breakfast arsenal.

One final note: although the recipe lists as optional the addition of a single poached egg to each serving of hash, it’s a move I strongly encourage. The yolk here serves to sauce the finished dish, moistening the potatoes and pork and enhancing the entire experience in that miraculous way that only a really good sauce can. In fact, unless you’re feeding the toddlers pictured in BA’s photo, I’d increase the number of eggs from one to two per person. I mean seriously, this is pork hash we’re talking about — why hold back now?

See directions at the end of this posting for my foolproof method for poaching an egg.

Ingredients:
—1 lb fresh, skin-on pork belly (or 1 lb slab bacon)
—Kosher salt
—Freshly ground black pepper
—1 large sprig thyme
—4 garlic cloves, smashed
—3 cups low-salt chicken stock
—3 tbs extra-virgin olive oil, divided
—2 lbs red-skinned sweet potatoes, peeled, cut into ¾” cubes
—3 large shallots, chopped
—2 tbsp *Banyuls vinegar or red wine vinegar
—2 tsp pure Maple syrup
—8 poached eggs (optional)

*Banyuls vinegar (which has been showing up on an increasing number of new recipes lately) is made from the sweet wine of Banyuls-sur-Mer in southwest France, where it’s barrel-aged for five years or so. The vinegar develops a tart, nutty flavor that’s richer and more complex than the balsamic variety.

Note #1: If substituting the slab bacon for the pork belly you will not need the thyme, garlic, or chicken stock.

Note #2: If using pork belly you will need to order this in advance, either from your butcher or through heritagepork.com.

Directions if using pork belly:
—Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Season pork belly generously with salt and pepper. Place in a large ovenproof saucepan. Add thyme and garlic. Add chicken stock. Bring to a simmer over low heat, cover tightly, and braise in oven until tender, about 3 hours. Uncover; let cool. Transfer pork belly to a 9” glass pie dish. Place another 9” glass pie dish on top of pork belly. Weight with a 15-oz canned good. Chill overnight.
—Remove skin from pork belly. Cut meat in ½” cubes. Heat 1 tbsp oil in a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork and sauté until browned on all sides, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer pork to a medium bowl. Season potatoes with salt and pepper. Add to same skillet; sauté until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to bowl with pork. Add 2 tbsp oil and shallots to skillet; sauté over medium heat until golden brown, 3—4 minutes. Return potatoes and pork with any accumulated juices to pan. Drizzle with vinegar and syrup mixture; stir to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through, about 2 minutes. Serve with poached eggs if desired.

Directions if using slab bacon:
—Cut meat in ½” cubes. Heat 1 tbsp oil in a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add bacon and sauté until browned on all sides, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to a medium bowl, and pour out about half of the bacon fat. Season potatoes with salt and pepper. Add to same skillet; sauté until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to bowl with bacon. Add 2 tbsp oil and shallots to skillet; sauté over medium heat until golden brown, 3—4 minutes. Return potatoes and bacon with any accumulated juices to pan. Drizzle with vinegar and syrup; stir to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through, about 2 minutes. Serve with poached eggs if desired.

Directions for poaching eggs:
—Bring water to almost a boil in a shallow saucepan or skillet. Add two tablespoons distilled white vinegar or seasoned rice vinegar.
—Working with one egg at a time, crack egg into a cup, place cup close to top of the water, then gently drop the egg into the water. Using a spoon, nudge the egg whites closer to their yolks. Note: as many as eight eggs can be dropped into one 12″ pan and cooked simultaneously.
—Turn off the heat. Cover the pan. Let sit for 4 minutes, until the whites are cooked through.
—Lift eggs out of pan with a slotted spoon.

The post 11/03/11 • PORK AND SWEET POTATO HASH appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the July 21, 2011 New York Times (click here to view the recipe)

This has been an intense deadline week for me. I normally like to have a new recipe out to all of you by Thursday morning, but here it is Friday at 8:00 am and I am only now getting a chance to sit down at my computer and focus on this week’s posting. Regrettably, that’s happening from the exceedingly cramped quarters of seat 19H on American Airlines flight 59, en route to San Francisco. I’m off to visit my stepsister Eliza and to meet her new, months-old daughter, Oona — a happy occasion and one I’ve been looking forward to for a while, though in the immediate term, what with the toddler crying behind me, and the fact that I can’t raise my elbow to type without it meeting the hairy forearm of my neighbor (he’s claimed the armrest, by the way), not the ideal scenario for creative inspiration. Still, a weekend approaches, and with it, countless opportunities for all of us to muck around in the kitchen, so I’m determined to push through my comfort issues and get this up and out to you before another day ticks to a close.

Or perhaps I should say, ticks to a start, since the focus of this posting is breakfast — specifically a breakfast biscuit sandwich. For the past several weeks, before my deadline was moved up and all hell broke loose, I’ve been obsessed with biscuits. I blame Sam Sifton for this, or rather his biscuit story that ran in the New York Times Magazine in mid-July, and which awakened in me not just a desire to slather a warm biscuit with butter and stuff it in my mouth as quickly as possible, but to duplicate the flaky, golden contours of the one featured in the alluring photo at the top of his piece. That image pretty much captured all the qualities I yearn for in a biscuit — the warm yellow tones, the accordion-like folds, and a slight sheen suggesting a buttery quality that manages not to slide into greasy. What’s more, neither of the two recipes presented with the piece seemed the least bit intimidating. I didn’t have to just imagine eating that biscuit — I could make it myself!

But as I spun fantasy scenarios around my upcoming baking expedition, visions of the ideal breakfast sandwich also began to take shape. With the perfect biscuit now within my reach, perhaps I could fashion it into the ideal breakfast sandwich, as well — one layered with soft scrambled eggs, slices of country ham, chunks of sharp cheddar cheese, and to offset it all, a smear of strawberry jam. I couldn’t wait to get started! And so I did what you should never do with an untested recipe — I invited a few foodie friends over to try my new breakfast specialty, and the results were, well, not all that special. The ham wasn’t salty enough, the cheese didn’t have enough funk, and worst of all, my biscuits had barely risen off the cookie sheet during their run in the oven, giving me something closer to a scone. Had I overworked the dough (the cardinal sin in biscuit-making), or crimped the edges when cutting it into rounds? Or maybe the recipe was simply a dud.

Except I liked the flavor — the balance of sweet to tang seemed right on target, and the texture was good, if a little dense. So I decided to try it again, but only after doing a little more research. And what I discovered is that when it comes to biscuits, there are countless opinions about the way to make them, along with a corresponding number of recipes. Variants includes everything from what ingredients to use (buttermilk, lard, and baking soda appear in some recipes, but are noticeably absent from others), proportions (some recipes call for 5 tablespoons of butter or shortening, others twice that), and technique (some say to flatten the dough with a rolling pin, others that one should only ever use one’s hands). Who knew this homely American classic was the source of so much controversy?

So I absorbed as much of this information as I could and tried a few different versions, and in the end, for the purposes of the sandwich, decided to stick with the original recipe. Other of the recipes I tried might have come closer to the physical perfection of the Sifton version, but I liked the flavor of that first batch, as well as the simplicity of the instructions. These called for cutting 5 tablespoons of butter into a bowl of dried ingredients (flour, baking powder, sugar, and a little salt), then stirring in some milk, turning it a few times on a floured surface, then letting it rest for a half hour. I also liked that there was an emphasis on using the best ingredients, such as good European butter instead of lard, and that there was never any mention of a rolling pin.

With my increased knowledge and experience I was ultimately able to produce a biscuit that had more height and air than the original — though in truth, never quite matching the scale I was hoping for. But with a saltier ham and a sharper cheddar now part of the mix, it made for something pretty wonderful. Biscuit-making dominance may still be in my future, but in the meantime I have one helluva of a good breakfast sandwich with which to comfort myself.

Ingredients:
—2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
—2 tablespoons baking powder
—1 scant tablespoon sugar
—1 teaspoon salt
—5 tablespoons best quality butter, unsalted, plus more for serving (optional)
—1 cup whole milk
—10 oz. country ham, sliced thick (the saltier the better)
—10 oz. best quality cheddar cheese (the sharper the better)
—A dozen eggs
—Raspberry or strawberry jam

Special equipment:
—A sifter
—A 3” biscuit cutter (a glass of the same size will also work)
—Two cookie sheets

Directions:
Preheat oven to 425. Sift flour, baking powder, sugar and salt into a large mixing bowl. Transfer to a food processor. Cut butter into pats and add to flour, then pulse 5 or 6 times until the mixture resembles rough crumbs. (Alternatively, cut butter into flour in the mixing bowl using a fork or pastry cutter.) Return dough to bowl, add milk and stir with a fork until it forms a rough ball.

Turn the dough out onto a well-floured surface and pat it down into a rough rectangle, about an inch thick. Fold it over and gently pat it down again. Repeat. Cover the dough loosely with a kitchen towel and allow it to rest for 30 minutes.

Gently pat out the dough some more, so that the rectangle is roughly 10 inches by 6 inches. Cut dough into biscuits using a floured glass or biscuit cutter. Do not twist when cutting; this crimps the edges of the biscuits and impedes its rise.

Place biscuits on a cookie sheet and bake until golden brown, approximately 10 to 15 minutes. Serves 6 to 8.

NOTE: Biscuits can be made up to 8 hours ahead. Let cool completely. Store airtight at room temperature. Re-warm before serving.

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