Tarte Tatin

It's a good thing I picked up a cast iron pan in time for apple season. I've been taking full advantage of both. Inspired by Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food: Notes, Lessons, and Recipes from a Delicious Revolution (and how can you not be?), I decided to give Tarte Tatin a whirl. Not only that, but I made my own pie crust, after years of buying them frozen.

What took me so long?

This dessert is simple, as Waters promises, and simultaneously rustic and elegant. It celebrates wholesome, delicious ingredients without complication:

Pie Crust (Homemade or store bought) 

2-3 Apples (I used local Tompkins King apples.) 

Butter, 2 Tbsp.

Sugar, 6 Tbsp.

First, I prepared an entire recipe of Waters' "Tart & Pie Dough" from earlier in the book, refrigerating one half for the Tarte Tatin and freezing the other half for next time. (It ended up making the trip to Maryland in my cooler for the Tarte Tatin I made for my apple loving brother.)

Peel and core apples. Slice into thin segments (eights or sixteenths). It is important that they are as uniform as possible.

Oven preheated to 400°F. Butter and sugar combined in a 9-inch cast iron pan over medium heat. Stir until caramelized, careful not to burn! Remove the pan from heat. My caramel making skills need a lot of work, mainly because it involves paying careful attention and not getting distracted. This is a great example of how cooking can make me a better person. The promise of delicious, unburned caramel may be just the incentive I need to train myself.

Arrange apple slices perpendicular to the outside edge of the pan, pointy sides up. Make another ring inside that one. Then fill these rings in, pointy sides down this time, nestled between the first set of rings. Fill in gaps with smaller pieces. Lay pastry over the apples, tucking it between the apples and the pan.

Bake 30-40 minutes. Give the pan a gentle shake when you take it out of the oven, to loosen the apples. Put the serving plate face down over the pan and flip over. Gently lift the pan off. Serve with vanilla ice cream, yogurt, whipped cream, or just naked. Delicious warm or at room temp. Delightful with ice wine.

 This is how I made my Tarte Tatin, but this narrative is no substitute for Waters' eloquent description of her method in The Art of Simple Food. I highly recommend checking the book out, particularly the practical and poetic piece on "Rolling Out Tart Dough," which was a revelation.

Apple Gingerbread Cobbler

Apple season has inspired me to bake, but I don't have huge amounts of time on my hands. I wanted something fairly simple to throw together, and I also kept thinking about that cobbler that I had at the Red Newt. The gingerbread topping would work well with apples too. A search through cookbooks, magazines and internet yielded this recipe for Apple-Gingerbread Cobbler. A historic recipe that has stood the test of time, I will definitely make this cobbler again. Next time I will pump up all the spices, just because we prefer more gingery bread. 
     This cobbler is simple enough to make as the finish for a weeknight meal. Once the apples have been prepared, toss with lemon and sugar, place into baking dish and put in a hot oven (450) to bake while you are making the topping (about 15 minutes). The topping comes together like a cake, with dry ingredients sifted together, then mixed into the wet ones. Pull the apples out of the oven (turn it down to 350) and pour the batter over the top. Then return the baking dish to the oven for 40-50 minutes. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

    The gingerbread topping is moist and spongy and the apples are a lovely complement, almost coming as a surprise as you dig in. (Next time, I might also increase the amount of apples to batter, but the gingerbread is so good that it can work either way.) This was a delicious treat for my co-workers at the winery after a busy October Saturday, our busiest time of year.

Soup of the Week: French Onion

      When I lived in Manhattan, I often ordered French onion soup as a late night snack at a diner or bistro and justified paying five or six dollars for it by telling myself it wasn't the type of thing you could make at home. In Paris, I ordered it everywhere I ate, savoring each variation. It is a perfect light meal during the week, especially when rounded out by a nice salad and a glass of red wine. We recently enjoyed this soup with this delightful Bordeaux blend (pictured at right). The French are great at making easy drinking table wines, and this one is a prime example, dry and subtle, and a bargain at $14 per magnum.

     Last winter I started a project to demystifying French Onion soup, so I could make it for myself (and maybe a lucky friend or two) just how I wanted, whenever I wanted. I bought myself some oven proof crocks and read up on all the different recipes out there. The soup that I make right now is based on Anthony Bourdain's recipe from Les Halles.

     Not a lot of fancy ingredients are required to make French onion soup. That is one of the things I love about it: onions, stock, bread, cheese and seasonings. Blissfully simple!

I usually splurge on a nice cheese, since you don't use a whole lot of it and I feel that it makes a big difference. Gruyere is my favorite so far, but you can really use whichever cheese (or blend of cheeses) you like, or have in the fridge. Swiss, provolone, mozzarella, gouda...the sky's the limit!

This dish does require patience. I've broken it down in my head to several steps, which gives me more flexibility and allows me to make this wonderful soup more often:

Caramelized onions. Our friend, Frankie, gave us some of his country bacon. I couldn't bring myself to waste the bacon grease that was left over after cooking it, so I sliced up some onions and let them cook in the grease at a low heat. This is the first place patience comes in. It can take some time for onions to get as rich, brown and melty as you want them. Watch them carefully because you don't want the onions to burn. The process is very satisfying, and smells just wonderful, but I don't always have the time to do it.

     Luckily, I have learned that you can caramelize onions in a crock pot. It usually takes 10-12 onions, sliced, to fill my crockpot, which I then drizzle generously with olive oil (sometimes I use a knob of butter as well, or instead) and sprinkle the top with dried thyme and maybe throw in a bay leaf. This doesn't achieve exactly the same result as caramelizing in a pan, but it saves a lot of time. The caramelized onions keep well in the fridge. I've also read that you can freeze them, but I haven't tried that yet (ie I always eat them all before they get to the freezer.) There are lots of other excellent uses for caramelized onions, such as a topping for a burger or steak or in an omelette.

     Once the onions are caramelized (or onions that you've pre-caramelized are warmed though), you can add a splash of port, sherry, balsamic vinegar, red wine, white wine, or any combination thereof. (Maybe a some of what you're planning to serve with the soup, or some of what you've been drinking while you caramelize the onions.) Recipes vary here, so it's up to you. For me, it depends on my mood and the levels of the bottles in my cupboard.

Stock. Next, add the stock to the pan with the onions. Simmer the stock with the onions to allow the flavors to concentrate, tasting as you go. Ladle soup into oven proof crocks. Put a slice of toasted bread and some cheese at the bottom of the the bowl before adding the soup for a great extra surprise.
Both beef and chicken stock (or a combination of the two) work well in this soup. Stock does merit (and will get) its own post(s), but long story short: the better the stock, the better the soup. This rule especially applies with French Onion. Making stock also takes patience, but there really is no substitute. You can make your stock ahead of time and keep it in the fridge, or freeze it, so it's ready when you want to make the soup.  Your crockpot can also come in handy preparing the stock.

Assembling the soup. First, preheat your broiler. Slice up a baguette or whatever bread you'd like, toast one slice per serving and float on the soup in the crock. This is an excellent use for day old bread. I had great success once using a leftover olive roll. Grate the cheese, and generously top the crouton with this. Make sure to sprinkle some over the edge. It will form a tasty crust on the crock. The crouton and cheese make this soup. I can't think of another dish where the garnish is so important, but I do know that melted cheese makes anything taste better.

Place the crocks on a baking sheet and broil on high for a 5-7 minutes, keeping a close eye. By this time, your house will smell delicious and you'll be getting your spoon ready to dig in.

Allow to cool before devouring.

Yes, I CAN!

    
     At the peak of tomato season, I made some roasted tomato salsa that came out with a little too much of a kick for general consumption. I could have roasted some more tomatoes, or added some fresh tomatoes to the mix, but decided on peaches instead. Their sweetness turned out to be just the thing to balance the smoky heat from the chipotles in adobo. The combination is moreish, and I'd love to be able to eat it all year long.

I'd been reading up on home food preservation, and picking the brains of my friends-who-can for advice. With windowsills full of tomatoes and 12 plants still producing, this was a perfect opportunity to give it a shot. I carefully followed the steps laid out in the Ball Complete Guide to Home Preserving, constantly cross-referencing the manual to my pressure cooker. Canning can go very wrong, and one doesn't want to risk any contamination.

Once the jars and lids were prepared, I set up a one person assembly line prepping the ingredients. An assortment of Romas, Early Girls and Cherry Tomatoes from my garden were cored and quartered, then roasted with red onion and garlic. A peck of peaches  (from Indian Creek Farms in Ithaca) were blanched, peeled and cut into chunks. A big bunch of cilantro was roughly chopped. A chipotle pepper was taken out of it's tin, deseeded and pureed with a cup or so worth of the roasted tomato mixture. If you're sensitive to the pepper heat, start with half a chipotle and go from there. I like to add a spoonful or so of the adobo sauce for extra smokiness. The remaining roasted tomatoes, onions and garlic are cut into pieces and added to the puree, along with the peach chunks and cilantro. Tortilla chips were handy for tasting all along. Once the proper balance was achieved, the salsa then went into the jars.
I bought my pressure cooker for fifty cents from a neighbor that Pat's known for ages who was moving, complete with the weight and owner's manual. This method of canning feels safer, because of the high temperatures reached while processing. Using it for the first time was a little scary.

Luckily, Patrick's mother (also know as Cook Cook) canned all the time when he was growing up, so he was able to reassure me that all those noises were normal.

I haven't opened any of the jars yet, but there they are in my pantry, vacuums holding tight, promising to bring a little summer warmth to the central New York winter.

Soup of the Week: Lentil with Swiss Chard

     In order to properly celebrate soup season, I bought myself a new stockpot. It's stainless steel with a "good mild-steel sandwich on the bottom," as specified by Barbara Kafka in her Soup, a way of life. What better to way to christen my new toy than to experiment with a new recipe from the soup maven: chard and lentil soup.
      I was inspired by a particularly beautiful bunch of ruby chard at Countryside Produce, a wonderful local Amish shop where I get lots of great ingredients. (I'd share their website, but...)

       The seasonings harmonized well, none belting out above the choir  (even the often overpowering cilantro and cumin.) This is a wonderful, hearty soup to stock in the freezer or take to the office for lunch. The consistency was so thick, in fact, that I added water when I heated up individual servings. It also worked nicely as a bed for the other two smoked pork chops that Frankie gave us.

Lentil is a staple in my soup rotation, and I was very much looking forward to the first batch of the season. It's always fun to find variations on a much loved theme, and this wholesome soup has earned a place in my heart.

Thank you, Ms. Kafka, my sister in soup, for another wonderful recipe!

Smoked Pork Chops with Fresh Peach Chutney

      Pat and I celebrated the change of seasons with this meal, a serendipitous combination of summer and fall ingredients. Harvest is upon us. The Finger Lakes grapes are being picked and crushed. Our friend, Frankie, had his pig slaughtered, and he shared a couple smoked pork chops and some country bacon with us. I was eager to taste them.

     Despite the change of weather and appetites, my garden is still producing tomatoes, and even provided a couple nasturtiums to brighten the plate. A quick Google gave me ideas on putting together a chutney to smother the chops with, using up the last of the summer's peaches. In a small saucepan on low to medium heat, I melted brown sugar in apple cider vinegar. Then, I added grated ginger and carefully minced hot pepper (courtesy of our friend Fred's garden), tasting all the while to test for balance of flavors. Next, I tossed in half a handful of raisins, which soon plumped up. Lastly, I stirred in chunks of peeled peaches. The chutney was then simmered until it reached the desired consistency, and allowed to cool to room temperature before spooning over the meat.

      Frankie's instructions regarding the pork chops were: put these in a pan with some water and a little butter. They are already cooked (via smoking) so they just have to be warmed through. The truly wonderful thing about this pork is that has no water added. This provides a superior texture and flavor to the meat. It also doesn't hurt to know that the pig was raised down the road, fattened on kitchen scraps and garden refuse.

We paired the meal with one of my favorite wines of the summer, Lamoreaux Landing's 2008 Red Oak Vineyard Riesling. All the grapes in this wine come from a four acre vineyard in southern Seneca County. The vines in this parcel are very young and 2008 was the first harvest from the Red Oak Vineyard. The result was an off dry riesling, which is incredibly fragrant on the nose with nice orchard fruit and honeysuckle notes. (Yes, I have my tasting room speech down. What can I say? I work at Lamoreaux because I love the wine.)
    We are squeezing the last drops out of summer, but welcome the coziness and spice that fall promises.


  

Soup of the week: Fish Chowder

The first day of Autumn was chilly. I knew I was coming down with something because all I could think about all day was soup. Luckily, I had the rest of the haddock in the fridge that needed to be used. This chowder hit the spot. Jasper White calls this recipe the most authentic in his book 50 Chowders: One-Pot Meals -- Clam, Corn & Beyond. It tasted just like I wanted a New England Fish Chowdah to taste, and was even better the next day. Salt pork can easily replaced with bacon. I used whole milk instead of cream for a lighter soup and was pleased with the results.

   The recipe suggested garnishing with fresh snipped chives. I wanted to add a little kick to the mild, smooth soup and complement the fish, so I sprinkled mine with Old Bay. You can take the girl out of Maryland....

Bringing Jean Georges home

       The sweet and sour jus served with the snapper at Jean Georges bewitched me. I couldn't get it out of my head. Aside from butter, I couldn't put my finger on the ingredients I was tasting. I only knew the rich combination of flavors was intoxicating. Of course, upon reading the recipe the secret ingredient was obvious-- mushrooms!

     I was mainly interested in recreating the sauce, so I decided to concentrate on that, leaving the nut and seed crusting for next time. The trick was browning the butter slowly. Next time, I'll clarify the butter and keep a closer eye on it so it doesn't go quite so brown.

This is a totally different type of cooking from what I'm used to, giving you less freedom to multitask and requiring more careful attention to each step. It is an useful exercise in timing and discipline. I used sherry vinegar in place of the Banyuls vinegar. For the summer vegetables which swim in the buttery sauce, I used the last few cherry tomatoes from my garden, along with baby red potatoes and yellow pearl onions for some variety of color. (The mushrooms that were strained out of the sauce made an awesome addition to my scrambled eggs the next morning.)

I wasn't thrilled with the red snapper at Wegman's that day, so I chose some much nicer looking haddock fillets which were a couple dollars less per pound, which I pan fried simply and served over top.

The flavor was as I remembered it. Patrick and I enjoyed it outside (while we can!), watching another one of Seneca Lake's legendary sunsets. We paired it with a bottle of Lamoreaux Landing's 2007 Reserve Chardonnay, a beautiful complement. Butter all around!