Adapted from the July, 2013 Bon Appétit

For a multitude of reasons I won’t bore you with, the last few weeks have slipped into hyper-drive, making it difficult for me to sit down and write a proper posting, much less get home in time to turn on the oven. My hope is that in the coming days there will be some sort of planetary realignment and I’ll begin to see a few rays of light peeking through my over-committed days. Because it sure would be nice to get back to doing some serious cooking! And the good news is that I’m finally off the crutches, which means moving around the kitchen is doable again. In the meantime, please continue to bear with me as I scramble to meet my various deadlines, self-imposed and otherwise. And please know that if I fail to make an appearance now and then (as I did last week… sorry!) it’s not for waning interest or a lack of trying. There just don’t seem to be enough hours in the day at the moment.

In any case, this week I’ve come offering blueberry hand pies, which should make up for any recent lapses in scheduling (not that I’m trying to bribe you or anything). I pulled the recipe from the July issue of Bon Appétit, in part because I was overdue to get my hands into a bowl of blueberries, but also because I found the self-contained nature of this dessert irresistible, much the way I do an empanada. Because of their size and easy to grab nature the magazine suggests these as a kid-friendly dessert, and while I’m sure that’s an accurate description (they’re reminiscent of those Hostess fruit pies I always hoped my mom would slip into my lunchbox and never did), I can’t imagine an adult who wouldn’t be just as delighted by them.

And if that happens to occur at a picnic (for which they’re ideally suited, naturally) all the better. Still, I wouldn’t limit your enjoyment of these little pies to those occasions when you plan to forgo cutlery. In fact, they may even be better when accompanied by a scoop of vanilla ice cream and few spoonfuls of berry sauce (my addition, not the magazine’s). The blueberry sauce can be assembled easily enough by using the same proportions of berries, sugar, lemon zest, and lemon juice listed in the filling recipe, then warming it over medium heat until the berries begin to break down and become syrup-like (about five minutes or so; precise ingredients and instructions are listed below). In addition to looking delectable on the plate, this slight modification also has the benefit of offering a little more fruit and berry syrup to balance out the pastry dough—something I found myself wishing for as I bit into the drier edges of the pie. What’s more, that berry/sugar/lemon combination makes for one of the best blueberry fillings I’ve ever tasted, so if you’re like me you’ll want to make sure you have plenty to go around.

That said, one reason I experienced a berry shortage may have been the fact that I was using particularly large blueberries—a reality that limited the number I could fit into the center of each pie. (Since the recipe calls for folding the pastry dough over the berries, too large a mound can cause the dough to tear—a discovery that caused me to be a little more parsimonious with my berry allocation than I might have been otherwise). So use smaller berries if you can find them and avoid this problem altogether. And one other piece of advice: although the recipe calls for a baking time of between 35 and 40 minutes, I found more like 50 minutes was required to achieve the desired golden brown exterior. That color is key to achieving both the look and consistency critical to this dish’s success, so definitely keep an eye on the oven once you reach the final minutes of baking time.

With or without the sauce and ice cream addition, however, and regardless of the size of berries you use, what you can count on here is a wonderful berry filling infused with lemon, and wrapped by a buttery, flaky crust. In a word: delicious. Who says you can’t grab ahold of summer?

Ingredients for the filling:
—All purpose flour (for dusting)
—2 cups blueberries (about 10 oz)
—1 tsp finely grated lemon zest
—1 tbs fresh lemon juice
—1/4 cup sugar
—1/4 tsp kosher salt
—1 large egg, whisked with 1 tsp water
—1 tbs raw sugar

Directions for the filling:
—Preheat oven to 375˚. Roll out dough on a floured surface to a 15 x 12-inch rectangle. Cut into six rectangles.
—Toss blueberries, lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, and salt in a medium bowl. Brush edges of rectangles with water; mound some blueberries in center of each. Fold dough over and press edges to seal. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, brush with egg wash, and sprinkle with raw sugar. Cut three to four slits across the tops.
—Bake hand pies, rotating sheet halfway through, until juices are bubbling and pastry is golden brown, 35 to 40 minutes (juices will run onto parchment). (Note from TRG: I found it took an additional ten minutes to achieve the desired golden brown color)
—Transfer to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Ingredients for the crust:
—1½ cups all-purpose flour
—1/2 tsp sugar
—1/4 tsp kosher salt
—1/2 cup (one stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces

Directions for the crust:
—Pulse flour, sugar, and salt in a food processor. Add butter; pulse until the texture of very coarse meal. Add ¼ cup ice water; pulse, adding more water if dry, until dough comes together in clumps.
—Form into a square, wrap in plastic, and chill until firm, about 2 hours.
—Note: Crust can be made 3 days ahead. Keep chilled. Let stand at room temperature 15 minutes before rolling out.

TRG’s Ingredients for berry sauce:
—2 cups blueberries (about 10 oz)
—1 tsp finely grated lemon zest
—1 tbs fresh lemon juice
—1/4 cup sugar
—1/4 tsp kosher salt

TRG’s Directions for berry sauce:
—Toss blueberries, lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, and salt in a medium bowl.
—Place in a small sauce pan and heat over medium heat, until berries break down and become syrupy, about 5 minutes.

Makes 6

The post 08/06/13 • BLUEBERRY HAND PIES appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the March, 2013 Food and Wine

I’m not really one to complain about the weather. I grew up in Philadelphia, so winters that are cold, damp, and gray strike me as being part of the natural rhythm of things—the bargain you make for those warmer, sunnier months. This is actually a source of some conflict between Alfredo and me. As a child of Miami’s sunshine he tends to take cold, dreary weather personally; it seems wrong to him, and it makes him angry. And the fact that it doesn’t elicit that reaction from me can make him angry too. “Brad doesn’t mind the weather,” he’ll tell people. “He likes putting on a sweater” (as though this were some weird personal tick). I can only laugh, because he’s right—I do like putting on a sweater (even a knit hat, which can provide me with the fleeting impression that I’ve got my head on straight!). But the thing is my impulse to bundle up is less about a love of the cold than it is a tendency to soldier on and make the best of a less-than-ideal situation. Because like most of the world, I’d way prefer warmth and sunshine to cold and freezing rain. That said, even I, the sweater-lover, can’t help but check the weather report this time of year for signs of a warm-up—you see, I, too, have had just about as much winter as I can handle. It’s a shift that’s invariably reflected in the foods I’m drawn to as we limp towards spring, recipes such as this one for black olive tapenade.

Is there any food that says sun and warmth as clearly as tapenade? Alright, I’m sure there are plenty, but tapenade—with its sunny, arid associations—is pretty high on the list. This version comes from none other than that maestro of French cooking, Jacques Pépin, who contributed the recipe to Food and Wine a number of years ago (the magazine reprinted it in their March issue, in honor of some anniversary or other). But here’s the thing that sets his version apart: in addition to all those brine-y black olives that are the mainstay of most tapenades, this recipe calls for the surprise appearance of dried figs and mint. That combination was too much for me to resist—because of its summery appeal for sure, but also because of the sweet/tangy flavor combination promised by the ingredients.

And, of course, this being a tapenade, there’s virtually no work involved in preparing it, unless you count measuring out a quantity of olives (a mix of kalamata and oil-cured black olives), mint leaves, and capers as work. Okay, there’s also a little bit of chopping involved (in the form of six small dried figs), and you do have to peel and crush two cloves of garlic. But beyond this all that’s required is placing the aforementioned ingredients into the bowl of a food processor along with some anchovy fillets and a quarter cup of olive oil, pressing the “pulse” button, and the “heavy lifting” is complete. Season with salt and pepper to taste, chill for half an hour, and you’re good to go—a concentrated shot of sunshine. And I mean that literally, as the individual flavors of the mint, the fig, and the olive come blasting through, even as they combine to produce a flavor all their own.

Having said that, depending on your fondness for garlic you might want to consider decreasing the number of cloves here from two to one; I’m a big garlic fan and I found the flavor a little too intense, though it’s possible I was working with a particularly strong variety. I would not, however, make the same recommendation for the anchovy. Even if you’re not a fan (and I know many aren’t), as with some salad dressings, in combination with the other ingredients the flavor here reads as salty/tangy and not fishy, so it’s an element you don’t want to eliminate or dial down.

And one final thought about serving: Pépin suggests spreading the tapenade onto bagel chips, and though their salty/crunchy quality offers a nice counterpoint to the sweetness delivered by the fig and the mint, my recommendation would be to go with homemade crostini instead. There’s a little more effort involved in this option, of course, but if you have the time and inclination, it’s an alternative that will offer the same crunch and salty satisfaction as the chips, but with that much more vibrant flavor. (A simple crostini recipe follows at the end of this posting). Still, go the easy route and tear open a bag if you must—truthfully, you can’t go wrong here.

Happy almost-spring everyone!

P.S. That’s Lily in the image near the bottom—as you can see, she likes the sun, too (almost as much as her bone).

Ingredients:
—3/4 cup pitted oil-cured black olives
—3/4 cup pitted kalamata olives
—6 small dried figs, coarsely chopped
—2 tbs capers, rinsed
—2 small garlic cloves, crushed
—1/4 cup packed mint leaves
—4 anchovy fillets
—1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
—Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
—Bagel chips, for serving (TRG note: Or serve with crostini; see recipe below)

Directions:
—In a food processor, pulse the olives, figs, capers, garlic, mint, anchovies, and olive oil until the tapenade is thick and somewhat chunky. Season with salt and pepper.
—Transfer the tapenade to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate until chilled.
—Serve with bagel chips. (TRG note: Crostini would also be good here—maybe better. See directions, below).

Makes about 1½ cups

Directions for crostini:
—Preheat oven to 350˚. Arrange baguette slices (about 1/4″ thick) on two large rimmed baking sheets; brush both sides generously with olive oil, and season with kosher salt and pepper.
—Bake until golden, about 15 to 20 minutes, rotating sheets halfway through.
—Serve immediately. (Store any leftovers in a resealable plastic bag; these are great even several days later… like a really good, thick-cut potato chip!)

The post 03/14/13 • FIG AND OLIVE TAPENADE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.