I’m in full Christmas mode, finishing up a piece for the holiday issue of Parents Canada magazine. I actually pulled up Bing and Bowie in order to jolt my brain into writing something sufficiently holiday-spirited, then baked gingerbread. (Upside-down Pear Gingerbread – remember it? The one that apparently caused a run on molasses in Jakarta? Oh yes, ’tis almost the season!)
But since they frown on eating cake for dinner, I thawed some of that pork. (I may just start throwing the shrinkwrapped tenderloins in W’s bathtub to thaw in the evenings – they’d make fine sea monsters for his pirate ship.) Tenderloin #1 was hastily rubbed with a dry barbecue rub I had on my shelf and grilled. Bam.
And really in the end the pork was just a mode of delivery for the pear chutney, which I’m quite enamoured with. It’s from Well Preserved by Mary Anne Dragan, a newly re-released cookbook I’ve had on my shelf for years (I do love the new makeover though!) and reference quite often when I’m in the mood to put stuff up in jars. If you’re looking to do something with all those pears, here’s just the thing. It may just oust the cranberry sauce from our Thanksgiving table this year.
(Please note: as you may be able to tell from this photo, I forgot it on the stovetop and nearly candied it. I had to add a bit of water just to coax it back into something remotely chutneylike. It was still fabulous.)
Pear Chutney
The author suggests serving this chutney alongside roast chicken, turkey or pork, stirred into curries, or spooned over baked squash or sweet potato. (Sounds just about perfect for Thanksgiving to me.) Reprinted (with permission) from Well Preserved, Small Batch Preserving for the New Cook (Whitecap).
6 cups chopped pears, peeled or not
1 cup chopped apple
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
1/2 cup finely chopped red bell pepper
3/4 cup dark raisins
1/2 cup chopped candied ginger
2 cups brown sugar
3/4 cup cider vinegar
finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 Tbsp. mustard seeds
2 tsp. dried chili flakes
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cloves
Prepare the preserving jars according to package directions. (For me, this means wash them. I like giving them a run through the dishwasher, so they come out clean and hot – when you ladle in the hot preserves, they seal perfectly as they cool.)
Combine all the ingredients in your preserving pot. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Simmer, stirring often, until the pears are tender and the mixture has thickened, about 1 hour.
Remove from the heat. Ladle the chutney into hot, sterilized jars, leaving a 1/2 inch head space. Wipe the rims clean. Seal according to manufacturer’s directions. Process the jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. (Or not.)
Confession: I’ve been a little bit obsessed with those plum tarts we had in the Okanagan. If it were a celebrity, I might be hanging around in my car outside its house after dark, hoping for just a little taste. Every time I see a plum I wonder if I could similarly transform it, realize I probably couldn’t truly do it justice, sigh with discouragement and don’t even bother eating it because why would I want a stupid plum anyway if it’s not wrapped in pâte brisée?
And then there was a pork sale.
Stay with me here, I’m searching for a segue way.
Sunterra had a big ol’ pork sale this weekend in support of Alberta pork producers, who are still feeling the affects of H1N1 (Canada risks losing an additional 25 per cent of its pig herd in 2009) – they pulled a big freezer truck into the parking lot and offered to load 66 lbs of loin chops, roasts and whole tenderloins into the back of my Subaru Outback for the low low price of $139.
Of course I jump into these situations without considering the state of my freezer.
So when I got home from the dog park (which is right beside Sunterra), having tortured Lou by making him ride home in the back with all that pig, I had to make way for it in my freezer, which meant jettisoning anything that took up too much space – namely the frozen insert for my ice cream machine.
See? I told you there was a connection. Of course that meant I had to make ice cream while it was good and frozen, seeing as I won’t be able to freeze it again for at least 2 pork loin roasts. And I did promise you another batch of burnt sugar ice cream. And I couldn’t rightly eat burnt sugar ice cream all on its own – it really does need to melt a little bit over sweet-tart fruit, preferably with a crunchy, buttery pastry of sorts, like a peach-blackberry pandowdy. Or a plum tart. Sniff.
So I settled on a plum crumble, attempting to mimic the buttery pastry with a plain topping devoid of oats, nuts or anything grainy. It was good enough, but it was no plum tart. The burnt sugar ice cream made up for its absence. Or did it make me miss it more?
Burnt Sugar Ice Cream
adapted (and simplified) from the Martha Stewart Living Cookbook
1 cup + 3 Tbsp. sugar
a few drops of lemon juice (optional-to keep the sugar from crystallizing)
2 cups whipping cream
2 cups whole milk or half & half
6 large egg yolks
Put 1 cup of the sugar into a medium saucepan (one big enough to ultimately accommodate all the ingredients, keeping in mind that the cream will bubble up when you add it) and set it over medium-high heat. If you like, add a few drops of lemon juice – this will help keep the sugar from crystallizing, but it’s not necessary.
Let it sit until the sugar begins to melt, then swirl the pan occasionally, watching carefully so that it doesn’t burn (don’t stir it) until the sugar melts completely and then turns a deep amber. Remove from heat and whisk in the cream – it will sputter and froth, and some of the sugar will solidify – that’s OK. Put the pot back on the heat, turn it down to medium and add the milk or half & half and cook for a few minutes, until the sugar is completely melted. Remove from heat.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and remaining 3 Tbsp. sugar. Whisk in some of the hot burnt sugar cream, pouring it in a thin stream and whisking vigorously so as to not cook the egg yolks. Add about a quarter of it, then pour the egg yolk mixture back into the pot, pouring and whisking the same way. Put the pot back over medium heat and cook, stirring almost constantly, until it starts to bubble and thicken, and has the texture of thin custard (it should coat the back of a spoon – that is, leave a trail if you run your finger through it). Pour through a fine sieve into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap (I lay it directly on the surface to avoid getting a “skin”), and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled.
Freeze according to your ice cream machine’s directions. (If you don’t have one, ask Santa – it’s worth it just for this.)
Plum Crumble
15-20 plums, pitted and halved
2 Tbsp. sugar (or more, if the plums are very tart)
a shake of cinnamon
Crumble:
1 cup all-purpose flour (you could use whole wheat flour, or oats)
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
a shake of cinnamon
1/3 cup butter
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Spread the plums out into a pie plate, quiche pan or other similarly-sized baking dish, sprinkle them with sugar and cinnamon and toss them about a bit with your hands, then spread them out again.
In a bowl (or a food processor) mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon; add the butter and blend until crumbly. Sprinkle over the plums, squeezing the mixture as you go to create larger clumps. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until golden and bubbly around the edges.
It’s no secret I love oatmeal. (Or maybe it is, since it’s Dinner with Julie, not Breakfast with Julie… hmmm… do I detect a spinoff?)
So I’m more than a little excited to be one of twelve food bloggers kicking off the “Awaken Your Senses” challenge, sponsored by Quaker Oats. Here’s how it works…
Twelve of us food bloggers have come together to share our favorite food memories, which were translated into breakfast by David Lawrence of Good Bite. He has come up with all kinds of new ways to accessorize your morning bowl of oatmeal. (Which works out well for me, since W often eats oatmeal for dinner.)
One of my favourite food memories is baking with my Grandma. She, as so many grandmas are or were, was a fantastic baker, flawless pastry-maker, and kept her old walk-in fridge (it was built into the hallway) filled with tins of butter tarts, Matrimonial slice (date squares) and Oatmeal Crisps – lacy oatmeal cookies spiked with ginger and chunky marmalade, for which she was famous.
But back to the challenge: it launches today! This very first round features myself and three of my favourite bloggers – Jaden of Steamy Kitchen, Catherine of Weelicious and Lisa of Homesick Texan. They are all elimination rounds – one of us will emerge triumphant (based on YOUR VOTES – no pressure), and every 2 weeks a new round of videos will be posted.
At the end of eight weeks the blogger’s video with the most votes wins, and $10,000 (US!) smackers will be donated to their charity!
Of course they are all fantastic and worthy charities, but I’d really love mine to win $10,000. I’m playing on behalf of Common Threads, an organization that teaches low-income children to cook to cook wholesome and affordable meals. As they put it, “we believe that through our hands-on cooking classes we can help prevent childhood obesity and reverse the trend of generations of non-cookers, while celebrating our cultural differences and the things people all over the world have in common. Through the simple process of preparing and sharing a nutritious meal, children who participate in our programs learn to connect with their bodies, their neighbors, and their world in bite-sized lessons.”
Come on, how could you not want to support that? So if you have a few seconds, I’d love it if you could visit the QuakerTalk Channel and vote for David’s “sweetheart swirl” (an homage to my Grandma’s marmalade cookies and Matrimonial slice), in support of Common Threads. Please? $10,000.00 could go a long way toward teaching kids a skill that will last a lifetime, and be passed on to future generations.
The phone rang at 8 this morning. I had been up for awhile, and was helping W make oatmeal. (To sum: no no no I can do it myself I CAN DO IT MYSELF! Insert dramatic throwing of self on the floor when I absentmindedly added the raisins. WHAT WAS I THINKING? It’s a good thing there was still flax seed that needed to be added is all I can say.)
Want to know who it was? It was Michael Smith. I can’t really tell you this story without name dropping, so there you go. It was Michael, losing his mind a little bit upon discovering his identity had been stolen on Twitter. Turns out some guy (or girl, as the case may be) has been posing as Michael, twittering about his family and even offering up the chance to meet him and come on set, since May. It only became obvious when the fake began bashing the Montréal food scene last night – so not cool – and so not Michael.
(To clarify: it’s not like I’m Michael’s wingman, the problem solver he calls when he needs things fixed. It’s just that I twittered him -aka the impostor- last night and he -the impostor- answered, and so I came up on the radar. Also, he doesn’t call every morning so that we can coordinate our outfits or to see what I’m having for breakfast.)
So it was damage control in PEI today, and I myself peppered my followers with alerts to Unfollow! RT! Fake! The good news is the real, actual Michael has been thrust into twitterland by all of this, and you can now follow him at @chefMICHAELsmth. (Yes, that’s him. NOT the other one.)
So Michael has been on my mind today. He really is a fantastic guy, just as he is on TV (not everyone is exactly like their on-air persona, I’m sad to say). I get to see him a few times a year, usually, and every November when we get together at the Jasper Park Lodge to eat and drink for a week. (You should come!) So I was perusing his website, looking for info on his (beautiful!) new book but distracted by recipes, and stumbled upon one for cauliflower soup.
Which made me pause only because I have a pot of cauliflower soup in my fridge, destined for dinner tonight. I made it yesterday to bring to my parents’ house, where my aunt and uncle are staying and where we all converged for dinner. It was good, but plain, like vichyssoise – I planned to stir some Boursin cheese into it, but then had none. Instead we crumbled blue cheese into the bottoms of the bowls before ladling the hot soup over.
I was wondering if it might benefit from some curry paste to liven it up tonight when I came upon Michael’s, which is curried, and made with orange juice. Mine was made with apples. I hastily threw the cauliflower directly into the pot; he roasted it first. (The only problem with this scenario: I’d eat so much of it straight from the pan that there wouldn’t be enough left for the soup.) So tonight, when I reheated the soup I stirred in a small glob of curry paste, and I simmered a withering red pepper with a splash of V-8 and took his advice to puree it (a hand-held blender worked fine – it was chunky, but delicious) and spoon it overtop. It was sweet and made a nice foil against the spicier soup. Halfway through my bowl I went back to the stove and dumped the rest of it overtop and swirled it in, the way I used to swirl chocolate sauce into ice cream.
Curried Cauliflower Soup with Apples & Red Pepper Purée
I should really have called this Cauliflower Soup Three Ways – you could do it without the curry and swirl in some Boursin cheese, or with crumbled blue, or leave the curry and add the red pepper purée, or come up with your own version. It’s just soup.
olive or canola oil, for cooking
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, sliced
1 tsp. – 1 Tbsp. curry paste (optional)
1 large cauliflower, roughly chopped or separated into florets
1 apple, peeled and chopped (or try a pear)
1 L chicken or vegetable stock (or half stock, half orange juice)
1/4-1/2 cup half & half
salt & pepper
Red Pepper Puree (optional):
1-2 red bell peppers, seeded and chopped
1/4 cup tomato juice or V-8
Heat a drizzle of oil in a largish pot and sauté the onion until soft; add the garlic and curry paste and cook for another minute or two. Add the cauliflower, apple and chicken stock, plus a little water if it needs it to barely cover the cauliflower, and bring to a simmer.
Reduce heat and simmer for about 15 minutes, until the cauliflower is very tender. Remove from heat and purée with a hand-held immersion blender, right in the pot (or do it in batches in the blender); add the cream and season with salt and pepper to taste.
And after, rifling through the fridge I found a forgotten slice of cheesecake – one Cheryl gave me from her BT appearance yesterday morning. It’s from a Honey Pear Cheesecake – made with puréed and chopped pears – and it’s wonderful. She has the recipe posted on her blog, so you’ll have to go get it. It would make a great Thanksgiving dessert I think, made with a gingersnap crust. (See Cheryl, I plated it? And garnished it with a flourish of honey, just like you said? Sorry I didn’t have the gumption to slice a pear fan – I just wanted to eat.)
And by the way, I apologize for the encroaching left sidebar – I had to widen it just for a week, as tomorrow we launch an online charity event sponsored by Quaker that runs until October 8th. And, well, you’ll just have to check in and see tomorrow!
Jim Lahey was a genius. A revolutionary – right up there with Edison and Bell, and Arthur Fry (who invented the Post-It – why didn’t I think of that?) and Ruth Wakefield (who invented the chocolate chip cookie). He’s the guy who figured out how to make a glorious, crusty loaf of bread without kneading by mixing up a wet dough and leaving it on the countertop overnight, which apparently gives the gluten molecules a chance to align themselves in much the same way kneading does. Of course it could be that someone has done this before him (and I do recall making a similar dill bread in a casserole dish back in the 80s, but it was nowhere as good) but he brought it to the masses, and came up with the method of baking it in a heavy, heated pot, which traps the steam and creates an ideal crust without need for a steam-injected oven. Word on the ‘net is that his bread recipe was the most emailed story at the New York Times a few Novembers ago.
Since then a lot of people have run with the concept – there are no-knead bread cookbooks, and no-knead bread mixes, if you can believe that (then again it’s no sillier than pancake mix, which is what? flour, baking powder and salt?) and I’ve heard reports that it makes a decent bun and baguette as well, although I’m not sure how that works with baking it in a pot.
Guess what? Turns out you can make pizza dough using the same technique. Huzzah!
I discovered this over a year ago, quite by accident (late night, discovered bowl of no-knead bread dough on counter under mess, turned into pizza) and then promptly forgot. Then today at half an hour to noon, after having already been to BT, picked up a sick niece, and shot two Good Bite videos, my Mom called to say she was on her way over with my aunt and uncle from Ontario, who haven’t been here in decades, for lunch.
My aunt and uncle have an immaculate house. Nary a speck of dust or dish out of place. Mike and I snapped into action like a couple of panicked ninjas, pulling the place into reasonable shape and tossing a pizza into the oven in under half an hour. Fortunately, there was a bowl of no-knead dough on the countertop, ready to go. I spread it with jarred pesto and then sliced the last of the heirloom tomatoes from the Penticton Farmers’ Market, a few slivers of purple onion and a crumble of feta.
And lo – a beautiful, chewy, bulbous pizza crust better even than the regular old from-scratch pizza dough I mix up on a regular basis. And this took maybe a minute of actual work.
PHEW.
And if you want to be a superhero among moms, make stuffed-crust pizza: buy some mozzarella cheese sticks (or just the mozzarella, and cut it into sticks yourself) and run it around the edge of your pizza dough, then roll the edge over the cheese and pinch it to seal. As it bakes the cheese will melt, and everyone will think you’re a genius. Not only that – your kitchen won’t be all floury from your wonderfully chewy homemade dough, because you didn’t bother to knead it.
No-Knead Pizza Dough
Thanks for the no-knead bread to Jim Lahey at the Sullivan Street Bakery in Manhattan.
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting (or use whole wheat, or half and half)
1/4 tsp. active dry yeast (instant or regular)
1 tsp. salt
In a large bowl stir together the flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 1/2 cups of water, and stir until blended; the dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover the bowl with a plate or plastic wrap and let it rest on the countertop for 18-24 hours at room temperature.
After that time the surface of the dough will be dotted with bubbles. Generously flour a work surface and scrape the mixture out onto it, gently folding it over itself once or twice, then transfer to a rimmed baking sheet that has been sprinkled with flour or cornmeal. Spread it out with your fingertips until it’s a rough oval or rectangle (you may need to sprinkle the top with a little flour too, to keep it from sticking to your fingers), and set it aside while you get your toppings together and preheat the oven to 450°F.
Spread the crust with tomato sauce, barbecue sauce, pesto or anything else you’d like to sauce it with, then top with your choice of toppings and grated cheese. Bake for 20-30 minutes, until bubbly and golden.
