Archive for December, 2009
Christmas came early this year – in a box. It wasn’t chocolates – it was cheese.
That’s right, an entire gift box full of cheese, just for me. Well, and whomever decides to come over this weekend, because the Discovery Box ($49.99 only at Calgary Co-op – no they are not paying me to tell you this) has also inspired the theme of our Christmas party this year: Polyester and Cheese. (OK, perhaps it’s more accurate to say our pals Mike and Natasha came up with that particular theme last year, but the Discovery Box jolted my memory. By the way, they’re pretty sure they birthed the Bad Christmas Sweater party too, which has seriously increased the value of all synthetic reindeer sweaters with jingle bells on them.)
But seriously; not only is a cheese smorgasbord the easiest menu I can conceive of, I can’t imagine waking up to Sunday morning’s leftovers. And who doesn’t adore cheese? Especially when it’s minus 30 outside and swimsuit season is about as far away as it’s going to get. (Shoveling snow can be our antidote to all that triple crème – as A put it, shoveling a corner lot is like bikini boot camp, Canadian-style.)
To clarify: I have nothing against chocolates, although I think I like the idea of a box of chocolates more than actually being given the opportunity to make a selection from one – all the nut clusters and caramels are the first to go anyway. (The exceptions, of course, are any that come from Bernard Callebaut, because as everyone knows his chocolates are just the best things on earth.)
The Discovery Box (could be more aptly named Party-in-a-Box or Happiness-in-a-Box, or The-Best-Present-Ever) contains five Canadian-made cheeses: Oka, Champfleury, Chevrita, three-year-old Canadian Reserve cheddar and two Roundoux Triple Crèmes (because hand-to-hand combat isn’t in keeping with the festive season), along with a map to navigate them all – just like you get in a box of chocolates.
Add some homemade Raincoast Crisps, and you have yourself a party.
What says I love you more than a box of cheese?
For Free Stuff Friday today I have a new book courtesy of Simon & Schuster; it’s called The Christmas Cookie Club, by Ann Pearlman (I feel like I’m writing a book report here). To sum: every year on the first Monday of December, Marnie and her twelve closest girlfriends gather in the evening with batches of beautifully wrapped homemade cookies. Everyone has to bring a dish, a bottle of wine, and their stories. Each chapter starts with a cookie recipe and spins the story of a member of the Cookie Club. I started to read it but kept falling asleep – not because it was boring but because I had typically just finished a blog post and could not keep my eyes open any longer without the aid of toothpicks.
I’m missing out on actually hosting/attending a cookie exchange this year, so maybe we could just talk about cookies? What’s everyone baking these days? Which recipes can not go unmade over the holiday season? If you have a post about it, leave a link!
Next week for Christmas I’ve got a really fab giveaway. Here’s a hint: you’ll have to be in Calgary in January. The 12th, to be precise…
December 11 2009 | leftovers | 59 Comments »
Could it be December 10th already? How did that happen? That means it’s time for the The Ultimate Baker’s Dozen Christmas Cookie Exchange! How much fun is this: I’ve united with a dozen delicious food bloggers to bring you a virtual Christmas Cookie exchange, since I couldn’t manage to pull one together in real life. (Which I have to say bums me out a little bit – I was fully determined to bring back the cookie exchange this year – think I could swing it in the next two weeks?)
Let me tell you, I had a hard time deciding on ONE cookie recipe for this party. I kept stacks of holiday magazines and Christmas Cookie Special Editions beside my bed to flip through for late-night inspiration. I pondered the ones (Mom’s nut balls, stroopwafels, Hello Dollies) that could not be left out of my own Christmas baking. Bars were excluded, which was a bit of a relief; that restriction narrowed my options by several hundred. Then one day a friend forwarded me an old recipe she had found, knowing it was right up my alley – a recipe for Browned Butter Shortbread. She knows me well.
That’s right – BROWNED BUTTER. Were there ever two words that married so well? Browned butter makes everything better. Since shortbread is a mere vehicle for butter, it makes the perfect candidate for browning. If you’re not familiar, browning the butter caramelizes its natural sugars, intensifying its flavour and giving it a nutty edge.
The recipe was a little odd, adorned with a whole, bald almond, but I took the browned butter idea and ran with it. What would I make? Plain old straight-up shortbread? Brown sugar? I didn’t want anything to interfere with the aforementioned browned butter.
Using browned butter, which has been melted, gives the cookies a sandy texture and a bit of tooth; these aren’t like those whipped shortbreads that -and I may be Grinched (that’s like lynched) for saying this- I find a little dusty in the mouth.
I made two batches. On the second try I thought of mulching the rosemary with the sugar, rather than the flour, which typically helps release as many flavourful oils as possible and distribute them through whatever it is you’re baking. A bit of moisture in the form of honey or maple syrup helped grind the rosemary considerably. The first batch I chilled solid, and had to practically sit on for an hour to render it workable again.
The second I patted into two round cake pans, and pressed around the edges with the tines of a fork. After baking, you cut the disc into wedges while it’s still very warm (it tends to crumble at the tips when completely cool.) I do adore shortbread wedges; the only problem with shortbread in this form is that it’s impossible to resist balancing one on your mug of steaming coffee or tea, even if it’s only 7:30 in the morning. I lived on this stuff for days.
The first batch, once it regained its pliability, was rolled into walnut-sized balls and once on the cookie sheet pressed down with a cookie stamp – little ceramic stamps that make an imprint on cookie dough that doesn’t spread much, like shortbread. Mine was a snowman – I found a couple in my stocking a dozen or so Christmases ago and managed to locate them in the depths of the basement, covered in cobwebs. You don’t need a cookie stamp, you could use the bottom of a glass, or roll the dough out, or shape it into a log and slice it. Really, do whatever you want to do – it’s just shortbread dough. It will be soft at first – you can chill it for a half an hour or so to firm it up, but chill it overnight and it will be hack-apart-with-a-cleaver solid.
Browned Butter & Rosemary Shortbread
1 cup butter
1/2 cup sugar (white or brown)
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh rosemary (pull the leaves off the stems)
1 Tbsp. honey or maple syrup
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
In a small saucepan, heat the butter until it melts, foams and then starts to turn brown and smell nutty. Pour into a mixing bowl, scraping out any browned bits on the bottom of the pan, and set aside.
Meanwhile, put the sugar, rosemary and honey or maple syrup into the bowl of a food processor and pulse until well mulched; the mixture will look like wet sand. Add to the browned butter and mix well. Add the flour, baking powder and salt and stir just until well blended.
Chill the dough for half an hour or so to make it workable, then roll into walnut-sized balls, place them on a baking sheet and press down on them with the bottom of a glass or a cookie stamp, or divide the dough in half and press each into the bottom of a 9″ cake pan, and press around the edges with the tines of a fork. Bake at 325F for 15 minutes (for cookies) or 25 minutes (for wedges), or until pale golden around the edges. If you used cake pans, cut into wedges while still warm.
Makes about 1 1/2 dozen shortbread cookies.
Now it’s time to take a trip down the cookie aisle and check out what the other bloggers are baking. The Ultimate Baker’s Dozen Christmas Cookie Exchange website has links and descriptions of all our cookies – and plenty of giveaways – including chances to win actual cookies! They’re giving away 6 cookie-of-the-month memberships, including one that keeps on giving for an entire year! Visit participating blogs to see who snuck a contest in with their cookie recipe. (Quick, the contest ends on Monday, December 16th.)
Christmas is two weeks away – it’s cookie season!
December 10 2009 | cookies & squares | 28 Comments »
Because Tuesday is Lobster Thermidor Day, of course. What do you have on Tuesdays, meatloaf?
I was spared from having to commit lobster murder by the frozen seafood section of the Superstore, where good-sized lobster tails can be had for $8.99. I like to think I took that shortcut because at 5pm I found myself chatting to a friend beside the lobster tank, it was rush hour on icy roads and Mike had to go out at 6:30.
I think in reality it had more to do with my not being too keen on the killing and dismembering part; of, as Julia put it, knowing they’re done when “the long head-feelers can be pulled from the sockets fairly easily”. Less appealing were her directions to “discard sand sacks in the heads, and the intestinal tubes. Rub lobster coral and green matter through a fine sieve into the mixing bowl, and blend into it the mustard, egg yolks, cream, and pepper.”
Nah.
Julia, I adore you. I really do. You make food approachable to the masses on TV, but some of these recipes are altogether more involved than they need to be. (Case in point: strain your boeuf bourguignon to simmer and reduce the sauce, wash out the dish it was braised in, then return the beef and sauce to the dish.) Cooking your way through MtheAofFC seems far huger a prospect once you’ve read through a few of the recipes.
Besides the frozen tails vs. live lobsters cheat, I weedwhacked the recipe quite a bit. Guys, I got home from the grocery store at 5:30 and had lobster Thermidor on the table by the 6 o’clock news. Not to blow my own horn, but I’d be a pretty hot commodity if I were a 50′s housewife.
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December 08 2009 | seafood | 17 Comments »
Sorry for the late post – we were making rather merry last night. It could have been the copious amounts of French food and wine that knocked me out mid-post, laptop on my stomach like a heating pad. I woke up at 5am with butter sweats and my contacts fused to my eyeballs. This morning my jaw is sore – almost like it had been overused – got a boot-camp workout with me eating enough for a week in a couple hours.
So this is where, last night, I began:
Friends, behold something you’ll not see again for a very long time: my dining room table, set.
(As in, my dining room table is SET, not my dining room table set. It’s a Christmas miracle!)
All I can say is it’s a good thing I went to my Mom’s for brunch this morning, because when it comes to table dressing I am a total idiot. None of her finesse in this arena seems to have worn off on me at all. If I manage to pick up a few flowers and think to stick them in a clear vase full of cranberries, I consider myself extremely Martha. She sent me home with a basket of chargers, linens, matching plates and a vase full of dried flowers.
Although it did look lovely, and having W spend the afternoon at my sister’s may have been a contributing factor to my success, I’m not sure I could keep it up: this setting the table thing is kinda for the birds. Kudos to those of you who can muster linens, chargers and such every night of the week: it does add to the dining experience. (It also unfortunately adds to the cleaning-up experience.)
But let’s get to the point, shall we? The whole reason I put shimmery red stuff on my table in the first place? Our Julie & Julia-themed dinner party! Attended by some of my favourite writer-eaters: Pierre, Gail, Gwendolyn and Cheryl and their significant others. It was a potluck – which are making a comeback, have you heard? I heartily recommend them – people love to bring food, and if not, they can always buy stuff. It takes the pressure off you, and minimizes dishes.
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December 07 2009 | beef | 20 Comments »
But what I really love the sound of is Potage Parmentier. Growing up we called it vichyssoise, and it was well-known as my Dad’s favourite. He didn’t even have to specify vichyssoise on his birthday – we just knew to make it. Of course vichyssoise to anyone outside our household referred to chilled leek and potato soup, but we always served it hot. So really his favourite soup was Potage Parmentier.
I can’t recall if this made it into the movie or stayed in the book, but for some reason the name stuck. The humbleness of it, and the fact that a potato, some leeks and water can be transformed, in name at least, into something fussily French. Julia Child wasn’t just a master at French cooking, she was a pioneer woman when it came to product branding.
Earlier this year I unwittingly married P.P. with turnip soup simply by adding a turnip along with the potato. You could do this… or not.
Potage Parmentier
2 largish Yukon gold potatoes, quartered (I leave the skins on)
1 turnip, peeled and chopped (optional)
2 largish leeks, thinly sliced (white and pale green parts only)
1-2 L water or chicken or veg stock (Julia uses water, I generally use stock)
4-6 Tbsp. cream (heavy or half & half)
salt & pepper to taste
finely chopped parsley or chives
In a large pot, simmer the potatoes, turnip (if using), leeks and water or stock for about half an hour, until very soft. Puree in the pot with a hand held immersion blender, or roughly mash with a potato masher. Add the cream and season with salt and pepper and heat through. Serve immediately, sprinkled with herbs.
December 05 2009 | soup | 13 Comments »
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