It's Beginning to Smell a Lot Like Thanksgiving

Every year, when I’ve had more than my fill of Thanksgiving and its associated leftovers, there is one thing that I consistently wish we had made more of. And it’s not that you think. It’s not the stuffing. It’s not the gravy. It’s not the corn pudding. It’s not the creamed spinach.

Oh, and it’s not the pumpkin pie (although that would be a close second).

It’s the cranberry sauce.

The Cranberry-Pear Relish.

It’s bright, tart and sweet, fresh, and a much needed respite from the rest of the savory and rich fare. And even though we always double the recipe, there doesn’t ever seem to be enough for me to get sick of it. (Not that eating to the point of being sick of something should be a goal, I guess.)

So as a result, I’ve been known to hide it before. I’m not ashamed to hide food when I really believe I’ll enjoy it more than someone else who might snatch it up before me. My family disagrees with this.

But today when I saw the bags of fresh cranberries at the grocery store, I thought, why not get ahead of this? Why wait until Thanksgiving for cranberry sauce? It’s easy to make, it is chock full of antioxidants. It’s delicious. And it turns out the smell of it takes you immediately to warm and fuzzy Thanksgiving and promptly out of the Sunday blues.

I can smell it as I type, and I have fallen in love with it all over again.

Fresh cranberries brought to a boil with sugar and orange juice. Pears added at the end of the cooking time to make it a little sweeter. Orange zest added for extra freshness.

“What are you going to make with it,” asked my mom today when I told her I was making it.

“Nothing,” I said.

Silence.

Maybe it’s a little odd, to make cranberry sauce without any of the other stuff.

I don’t care.

From now until the days after Thanksgiving, I’m on a very sensitive mission: eat enough cranberry sauce to not feel the urge to hide it from my loved ones, but not enough to be sick of it.

This is going to be hard…

Cranberry Pear Relish, adapted slightly from Fields of Greens

¾ lb fresh cranberries

½ c orange juice

½ c sugar

2 Bosc pears, peeled, cored and cut into 1-inch chunks

1 tsp orange zest

Place cranberries, orange juice, and sugar in medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Once boiling, reduce heat, and cook for 10 minutes.

Add pears and half of the zest. Cook for 1 more minute, until pears are heated through.

Let cool; then add remaining zest.

A Nutmeg House, Some Course Sea Salt, and a Pumpkin Spice Cake

I relive an embarrassing moment every time I grate fresh nutmeg, which I did today when making this cake.

My mom has always called the little nutmeg grater thing a “nutmeg house.” Being so literal, I never picked up on the fact that she completely made up the name and that isn’t actually called a nutmeg house. In retrospect, I should have known that the “here, little nutmeg, let’s get you out of your little nutmeg house” in a high-pitched voice wasn’t my mom being serious. (And no, despite the fact that she actually does this every time she grates nutmeg, she’s not crazy. I promise.) But nonetheless, a few years ago when I decided to buy myself my own nutmeg house, I actually to be shown where the nutmeg houses were. To which the sales clerk looked at me blankly.

But whatevs.

I quickly forgot about the embarrassment as I made the batter for this Pumpkin Spice Cake with Chocolate Chips today and relished in how easy and quick it was (and of the fact that I cleaned up as I went for a change).

I love moist pumpkin cakes, especially when they are studded with chocolate chips. I thought I had a winner of a recipe, until my mom started talking about this version, which she saw on Martha Stewart’s show Friday and promptly made herself. This version packs two lovely punches vs. the one I usually make every Fall (and that one is damn good, too). Course sea salt and a crème fraiche glaze.

Most simple pumpkin cakes are unfrosted, unglazed. But this. This tangy version adds a little something nice and unexpected with its thin layer of crème fraiche and confectioners’ sugar dripping down the sides. Note: I had to use sour cream because Byerly’s wasn’t stocked per usual, and it worked just fine.

The salt, though, I think it the real show-stopper. Using course vs fine makes so that you actually get little hits of salty with your pumpkin-y sweet. And it’s brilliant. I will for sure start pondering this swap more often in my baking. I’ve also had great success with it in chocolate chip cookies.

This cake is pretty. It’s super moist. Super flavorful. Not cloyingly sweet. A little bit tangy from the glaze. A little bit salty from the salt. A little bit chocolaty from the chips. And very much Fall from the pumpkin and warm spices (nutmeg, cloves, ginger).

We had a piece while waiting for dinner tonight because we just couldn’t wait. And I’m guessing we’ll have another before we go to bed.

You can find the recipe here.

Note: I took this cake out of the oven at 65 minutes (a little early). My oven runs true—and this was perfectly done at that point.

To Each Their Own Bark

My mom was in town this weekend, and this was our small cooking project: Halloween bark.

Well, let me back up. I should probably claim this bark as my small cooking project. I’m not sure she wants to be associated with it.

I wanted something easy, something festive. I think I was in more of an chop and assemble mood vs anything more involved. This bark seemed to fit the bill. It’s hard, you know, to fit in larger kitchen projects when constantly moving from restaurant to restaurant to stuff your face.

When I started talking about this Halloween bark, my mom immediately had other ideas. She loves bark. (Side note: she HATES all bars, but she likes bark. Interesting.) So she immediately started talking about the bark she was going to make: white chocolate with pistachios, dried apricots, and cranberries. She was much more excited about her bark than she was about my bark.

She started describing her bark, and we all stared blankly. Dried fruits and nuts vs Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Heath Bars, Peanut M&Ms, Butterfingers, and Reese’s Pieces. Why would it be that we would actually choose the former vs the latter, we all silently wondered.

Wisely sensing an extreme lack of interest, she didn’t make her bark. I think she’s saving it for a group that will be more appreciative. Makes sense.

I put this bark in the fun to make but requires very little time camp. And you can use the leftover candy for trick or treaters (if you hide it well from yourself in your basement and don’t remember it’s there).

It’s actually really smart bark, if you ask me. In one bite you can have 5 different kinds of candy and 2 different kinds of chocolate. Um, yes please.

Halloween Peanut Butter & Toffee Candy Bark, Adapted slightly from October 2010 issue of Bon Appetit

1 lb semisweet chocolate chips

3 mini Butterfingers, chopped into 1-inch pieces

4 Heath bars, chopped into 1-inch pieces

8 Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, cut into 8 wedges each

¼ c dry roasted peanuts

3 oz white chocolate chips

Reese’s Pieces and / or Peanut M&Ms (orange, yellow, and brown only)

Line baking sheet with foil.

In microwave, heat chocolate chips until melted, stirring every 30 seconds. Spread melted chocolate onto baking sheet, spreading it out to be ¼ inch thick.

Scatter all of the candies on top of the melted chocolate.

Melt white chocolate chips until melted, stirring every 30 seconds. Drizzle over the top of the bark.

Let set; then break apart into shards.

File Under: For When it Gets Cold Again

A few weekends ago when it really felt like Fall (and I’m not complaining that it doesn’t now), I was craving the usual suspects: chili, mac & cheese, soup, homemade cookies, pumpkin everything.

I have really particular requirements when it comes to mac & cheese, just like I do with grilled cheese sandwiches (and maybe everything, to be honest). I’ve probably made 20 versions of different macs,  and I always come back to my old standby. The fancier the cheese, the less likely that I will like it (no thanks, Gruyere, Fontina, Tallegio). Some things should be left basic, and Mac & Cheese is one of them.

Okay, about to contradict myself. Sorta.

I like the base of my mac & cheese basic.

What goes on top is a different story.

For those rare occasions when mac & cheese on its own just won’t do it—or maybe when you just want to be over the top—let me suggest a mac & cheese BAR.

It goes like this:

Lots of caramelized onions…

Slow-roasted cherry tomatoes…

Crumbled  bacon…

Steamed broccoli for sensibility…

And everyone goes down the assembly line and customizes to their liking.

I couldn’t help but think tonight that the pulled pork I made would have also been delicious on it.

I won’t go on and on—you know this is a good idea. I will leave you drool over your own toppings.

Boiling Caramel is Hot

I’ll tell you what I didn’t do today when making these Caramel Apples. I didn’t touch the caramel while it was boiling away over the stove.

This may sound obvious to you: don’t touch the caramel while it’s boiling. But I did it once.

I actually dipped my left index finger into a pot of boiling caramel. I knew it would be hot, but I wasn’t prepared for how hot. And I didn’t think about how boiling caramel would stick to my finger and prolong the burning.

I’m not being dramatic, here. It hurt beyond words. It throbbed a piercing pain, and I seriously asked Zach, “Do you think I have a third degree burn?”

I didn’t (I don’t think). But I told myself I’d never do it again, that I’d never dip my finger in boiling caramel ever again.

But if I’m being really honest, part of me really wanted to today. Boiling hot caramel looks and smells amazing, and it’s really tempting. I’m sure many have made the same mistake I did. Making homemade caramel is a dangerous undertaking.

But this caramel today was special. It was way better than the store-bought little squares that can sometimes be stale and hard, all individually wrapped. And who actually likes to unwrap 100 little caramels?

This homemade caramel had a base of lots of sugar, heavy cream, and butter, and was enhanced with vanilla, molasses, maple syrup, corn syrup, and salt.

All ingredients were stirred and brought to a boil. And then I carefully watched from a distance as the mixture boiled away.

I clearly didn’t completely learn my lesson, I realized, since I put my head pretty far down into the pot to smell the sweet sticky goodness while it roared away.

Caramel apples are an easy and super rewarding Fall Sunday afternoon project.

Recipes tell you to use tart apples to offset the sweet caramel, but personally I prefer sweet on sweet. I used Honeycrisps fresh from the Kingsfield Market.

And because I love salted caramel everything and anything, I sprinkled these beauties with a little bit of coarse fleur de sel.

Mmm. So good.

Caramel Apples, Adapted slightly from Tartine by Elisabeth Prueitt and Chad Robertson

8 medium sized Honeycrisp apples

1 c sugar

½ c unsalted butter

2/3 c heavy cream

¼ c light corn syrup

2 tbsp maple syrup

1 tbsp dark molasses

¼ tsp vanilla

Pinch of salt for caramel

Coarse fleur de sel for garnish (optional)

Line baking sheet with waxed paper. Insert lollipop sticks about halfway into apples. Set aside.

Mix all ingredients together (except apples and fleur de sel) in fairly deep heavy saucepan. Heat over medium high heat, stirring occasionally. Bring to a boil and boil until candy thermometer reaches 236 degrees F, about 10 minutes. Remove pan from heat and let cool to 180 degrees F. Coat apples by tilting pan and swirling apples into hot caramel. Let excess caramel drip off and then place apples on baking sheet.

If using the fleur de sel, lightly sprinkle the apples with the salt.

The Switch-Over

I’m afraid to report that I think I’ve made the seasonal switch in our kitchen.

Buh-bye panzanellas with fresh veggies, corn on the cob, yogurt marinated chicken on the grill, and fresh tomato everything.

Today I welcomed back homemade applesauce and chili.

I was actually happy to have a gloomy day today. Don’t get me wrong—I love beautiful summer weather—but there is something relieving about the weather being crappy because it quickly narrows down the potential list of things to do. Because it was damp and cold all day, I could hole up inside with not one ounce of guilt. And make applesauce and chili.

Homemade applesauce is easy to make once you get past the peeling (and I’ve been known to not peel and whirl all of the cooked goodness through the blender before). But this Roasted Pear & Apple Sauce recipe is even easier because you put it in the oven and can forget about it for an hour. You can set a timer or not. The smell actually started wafting throughout the house at 1 hour which was my reminder. It seriously worked like magic.

There is something to be said for dropping everything into a pot, not even stirring it all, and having it transform into something delicious and wonderful while under the lid. And that is what this applesauce does.

The butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon sit on top of the whole mess of apples and pears and seep down and somehow incorporate themselves into perfection.

After it comes out of the oven, you get to whisk it to break up the remaining chunks and then just stand over the pot and smell it. And that’s it.

It somehow makes fall seem not so bad…

Roasted Pear & Apple Sauce, Adapted very slightly from How Easy is That? by Ina Garten

Zest and juice of 2 navel oranges

Zest and juice of 1 lemon

3 lbs apples (I used Haralsons), peeled and quartered

3 lbs Bosc pears, peeled and quartered

½ c light brown sugar, lightly packed

2 tbsp butter

1 tsp cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350.

Place zests and juices of the oranges and lemon in Le Creuset dutch oven. Add the apples and pears; stir. Place brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon on top. Cover and bake for just over an hour, until the apples and pears are tender. Whisk sauce until chunky. Serve warm or at room temp.

Makes 8 servings.

Slogging & Breakfast

I haven’t had a whole lot to report in the world of food as of late. I’ve been caught up in the grind of going to work, rushing to make something decent for dinner, going to the gym, taking a shower, and heading to bed. Thrown in the middle of this was a trip out East where I had a surprisingly delicious dinner in Lancaster with my parents (but no camera to capture it) and surprisingly nothing interesting to eat while in NYC.

I feel like I’ve been slogging along.

But, as I walk to my car, do the dishes, wash my hair, and climb on the elliptical, this is what I have been thinking about: a plan to test drive a ton of different stuffing recipes in order to find the perfect few for Thanksgiving which we’re hosting this year, when I’m going to get to go pick apples at Sweetland Orchard, baking a Pumpkin Chocolate Chip cake, making plans to go to La Belle Vie for the tasting menu in the lounge, the pie-for-dinner recipes in the newest Martha Stewart Living, and breakfast at Victory 44 Coffee Bar & Provisions.

I have been dreaming about breakfast at Victory 44 since we went a few Saturdays ago.

Breakfast is new there via the coffee bar, but dare I say I like breakfast there better than dinner?

Dinner is good, don’t get me wrong, but breakfast was special. There are very, very few places in town where you can get a breakfast that good.

Here is what I liked:

1.       The place wasn’t crowded and was easy to get into

2.       The charming single rose in a mason jar on the table, holding the drink menu down

3.       The communal tables in the middle of the place

4.       The single tables they also have for the anti-social peeps (me, Zach)

5.       The menu—I wanted almost every single thing

The Eggwich was by far the best egg sandwich to have ever crossed my lips. And this is saying a lot coming from someone who for the better part of her life refused to eat eggs. A fried egg, sausage, garlic aioli, compressed apple, cheese, all atop a buttery biscuit. And served with three perfect Breakfast Tots (fancy tater tots).

Zach’s Biscuits and Gravy was equally delicious and uber decadent.

But there were so many other things that I wanted--things that have been calling my name ever since.

Like the Waffle du Jour, which came with so many ridiculous things on that particular Saturday that I can’t even keep track of them all. I know there were peaches (I think they were also compressed), and I know there was mint. And I know there was stuff that made it decadent. Crap, the downside of not writing it down.

Like the doughnuts in the case at the counter that you can get if you’re grabbing your coffee to go.

Like the Benedict Du Jour.

I need to go back. Soon.

Until then, back to slogging.