Chippy cookie bars.

Tags

butterscotch, chocolate chip cookie bars, oatmeal

I found out a few hours ago that today is National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Well, that is all the invitation I need to share this recipe with you; these chewy, buttery, chocolaty bars are what I think of when I crave a chocolate chip cookie. Sure, they are a bar, not a drop cookie, but that just makes things easier! No mixer needed, one pan instead of four cookie sheets, and they bake in a flash– that’s my kind of dessert.

This recipe is an adaptation of one for Congo Bars my Mom has been making since I was a kid. I am not sure where she got it originally, but such a classic bar cookie has surely been popular for years. Though I love and still make her recipe, I made some changes to give a new spin to the Congo Bar. For my version, I cut out some sugar, replaced about a third of the flour with oatmeal– I like the chewiness it provides– and added a handful of butterscotch chips. The combination of chocolate and butterscotch reminds me of another favorite from childhood, the Scotcharoo. Chippy Cookie Bars are crowd-friendly, since the recipe makes about 48 bars, or can be frozen in smaller batches. If you want to bake a smaller batch, cut all the ingredients in half (use 2 eggs instead of 3) and bake in an 8″ square pan. No butterscotch chips on hand? No problem– just leave them out or replace with an equal amount of chocolate chips. My husband has requested a batch made with peanut butter chips in place of butterscotch, and I will be happy to oblige.

If you have the ingredients on hand, consider making a batch of these bars tonight– there’s still time to celebrate National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day!

Chippy Cookie Bars (makes 48)

• 2 sticks unsalted butter
• 2 c. brown sugar
• 3 large eggs
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 2 c. flour, sifted
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 3/4 c. oatmeal
• 1 1/2 c. chocolate chips
• 3/4 c. butterscotch chips (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9″ x 13″ baking pan and set aside.

In a large saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter; remove from the heat as soon as it has melted completely and mix in the brown sugar. Cool the mixture to room temperature and then whisk in the eggs and vanilla. To the butter mixture, add flour, salt, baking powder, oatmeal, chocolate chips and butterscotch chips, if using. (Adding the chips at the same time as the dry ingredients coats them slightly with flour and helps ensure they won’t all sink to the bottom of your cookies during baking.) Mix by hand just until the dry ingredients are incorporated; pour your batter, which will be thick but somewhat viscous, into your greased pan and spread evenly. Bake for 25-30 mins. (27 mins. is perfect in my oven) and remove. The skewer test doesn’t really work on these gooey bars, but the top should be firm and golden brown and the bars will look set. Cool completely before cutting. Bars will keep covered at room temperature for several days and will freeze in Ziploc bags or a tightly-covered container for about three months.

Savory asparagus cobbler.

Tags

asparagus, biscuits, pot pie, savory cobbler

Here’s something a little different to make with asparagus: a savory cobbler! This particular one starred mushrooms, leeks and asparagus in a white wine cream sauce, topped with golden biscuits. Yum-my! My inspirations were a tomato and corn cobbler from Joy the Baker I have been meaning to make (really need to get around to that!) and the creamy, delicious hug in a dish of a well-made chicken pot pie. I took elements I liked from each of those dishes and created something new that is quite pleasing. I added bacon because I thought the veggies would need some oomph, but in the future will go vegetarian– the saltiness of the bacon overpowered the delicate taste of the vegetables a little too much for my taste, though my husband was a fan. You choose either way and I promise a flavorful, decadent, home-style meal. I was even happier with it the next day, when the ingredients had had sometime to get cozy, and cozy is the perfect adjective for the dish as a whole– a late spring comfort meal if I’ve ever made one. Enjoy!

Savory Asparagus Cobbler

• 3 slices of bacon (optional)
• 3 leeks, white & light green parts only, sliced
• 1 tsp. dried thyme
• 1 lb. asparagus, washed and cut into 1″ pieces
• 1 c. sliced mushrooms
• 1/2 c. white wine (or chicken or veggie stock)
• 2 c. whole milk
• 1 T. cornstarch
• salt & pepper
• 2 T. butter

For the biscuits: (adapted from The Joy of Cooking)

• 1 3/4 c. sifted flour
• 3 1/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 5 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 3/4 c. milk

Make up your biscuits first. To a large bowl, add the flour, baking powder and salt and mix until well combined. Using a pastry blender, two forks or two knives, cut in the cold butter until you have small, pea-sized (or smaller) bits of butter covered in flour. Do not let the butter melt, so work quickly. Make a well in the center and add the milk all at once; stir dry ingredients into the milk until you have a sticky, wet dough that is starting to ball up. Pause here while you make the vegetable base.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. In a large, ovenproof skillet or Dutch oven, cook the bacon until it is crispy and the fat is rendered. Remove the bacon to a plate and remove all but 2 T. of bacon grease from the pan. If you don’t have 2 T., add olive oil or butter to make up the difference. If you’re not using bacon, start with 2 T. olive oil or butter.

Add the leeks to the pan and cook for 2-3 mins. over medium heat; add the mushrooms and continue to cook for another 2-3 mins. Add the thyme to the pan and stir, then add the asparagus and cook for about 5 mins. The asparagus should be crisp-tender, not cooked through. Add the wine, scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to release any good, brown, flavorful bits and allow the alcohol to cook off for about 2 mins.

While the vegetables cook, stir the cornstarch into 1/4 c. of the cold milk until you have a smooth slurry. Whisk in the rest of the milk. After the wine has reduced a bit, add the milk mixture to the pan and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. As soon as the sauce starts to bubble, remove the pan from the heat. Season with salt & pepper and add the cooked bacon back in, if using. Dot the top of the vegetables with generous scoops of biscuit dough, 5-6 around the edge and 1 in the middle, with room between them if possible (this allows them to cook a little faster); dot the top of each biscuit with butter. Carefully transfer the pan, uncovered, into your preheated oven and bake for 20-25 mins. The sauce will continue to thicken and the biscuits will brown; the cobbler is done when the biscuits are cooked through, though they will be slightly wet or doughy on the bottom because of the sauce. Serve the cobbler immediately.

Cheater’s risotto with fiddleheads & asparagus.

Tags

asparagus, cheater's risotto, fiddleheads, risotto

Many of you know well, since I don’t hide my unabashed love for the state, that I grew up in Maine. I lead with that (again) today because it surprised more than one person to hear that this dish was the first time I had ever cooked, tasted if I remember correctly, fiddleheads. Harvesting fiddleheads for eating, freezing, canning, pickling or selling is a spring tradition in Maine. Fiddleheads have a dedicated and passionate following; there is a Facebook page (with almost 10,000 followers!) dedicated to the curly ferns where folks can share information on where in the state (all of New England, it looks like) they are up. Just don’t give away your family’s secret spot. Although they weren’t part of my family’s food tradition, I certainly knew what they were and probably would have eaten some had they been served to me. When I found them at the farmers’ market last weekend, I figured it was time for me to see what all the fuss is about.

I am a big fan of risotto but not the time it takes to make a proper one. I found this “cheater’s recipe” and was absolutely bowled over by how good it turned out– it is so easy! All the work of slowly incorporating broth into starchy arborio rice is done by your oven; all you have to do is wait and decide how to flavor and serve the risotto. My version featured fiddleheads and asparagus I found at the market and mint from my little balcony garden, but I think you could make it with just about any combination of vegetables and herbs– I’m waiting patiently for fresh peas so I can make risotto with peas, lemon & mint, and my husband voted for one with tomatoes & basil. It may not be a traditional stir stir stir risotto, but it is a wonderful recipe to have in your collection!

My opinion about fiddleheads? I think this recipe was a good way to serve them, with a creamy background and the similar, complementary flavor of asparagus alongside. They are striking to look at but kind of a pain to prepare– I like my veggies like I like my haircut, wash and go. Scrub, trim, blanch, shock, saute is about three steps more than I usually go for. However, fiddlheads are tasty and I wouldn’t say no to eating them again. In Seattle, they are rare, which means expensive, but I think it would be lots of fun to go out with someone who knew what to gather and where and forage for some. Have you had fiddleheads before? What’s your favorite way to prepare them?

Cheater’s Risotto with Fiddleheads & Asparagus (adapted from Mamatoga)

• 1 – 2 c. fiddlehead ferns, washed, tough or brown ends trimmed*
• 1 – 2 c. asparagus, washed, trimmed, cut into 1″ lengths
• 1 medium shallot, cut in half and then sliced
• 1 T. olive oil or butter
• 1 1/2 c. arborio rice
• 5 c. chicken or vegetable stock, divided
• 1/2 c. white wine
• 1/2 c. Parmesan cheese
• 2 T. butter
• 1 – 2 T. fresh mint or parsley, minced (optional)
• salt & pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large Dutch oven, combine the rice, 4 c. of stock and the wine. Cover and bake for 40 mins. Keep the remaining cup of stock warm in a saucepan over low heat.

While the rice cooks, prepare the vegetables. Blanch the cleaned fiddleheads in salted boiling water for 4 mins.; shock in ice water and then drain well. In a skillet, heat the oil or butter over medium heat and saute the shallots, blanched fiddleheads and the asparagus pieces until they are just shy of being done, al dente if you will. For me, this takes about 7-10 mins. and I cook the fiddleheads longer than asparagus; I like asparagus crunchy. The vegetables will finish in the oven, so do your best to factor that in so they are not overcooked. When your vegetables are sauteed to your liking, take the pan off the heat and set the vegetables aside until the rice is ready.

After 40 mins., the rice should be almost done, with most of the broth absorbed. Mix the vegetables in and return the pan, uncovered this time, to the oven for 5 mins. to finish cooking and heat through. Remove the rice from the oven, being very careful with a very hot pan, and rapidly stir in the remaining cup of warm stock until the risotto is thick and creamy. Stir in the butter, Parmesan and mint or parsley, if using; season to taste with salt & pepper. Serve immediately, with additional Parmesan cheese and/or herbs sprinkled over the top if you like.

*Take a look at this article from Mark’s Daily Apple for more detailed information about choosing and preparing fiddleheads:
http://www.marksdailyapple.com/how-to-cook-fiddlehead-ferns/#axzz2RsOzzXUt

Cook the Books: The Mile End Cookbook.

Tags

cheesecake, Cook the Books, Mile End Cookbook

Cheesecake is good. I have always been a fan. As a child, when cousins and friends were wrinkling their noses at the texture, maybe the comparative (to other pies on the Thanksgiving table) lack of sweetness, maybe the color, who knows– this girl right here was savoring every bite and begging for seconds. My genius brother used to request cheesecake instead of birthday cake, mostly for the cherry topping, but still. I love my Mom’s version of cheesecake; it’s made in a 9″ graham cracker pie crust and is dense and golden brown and delicious. Mom has also perfected a gluten-free version with an almond crust that is mind-blowing, and made a version last summer with blueberries that my friends and I raved about for weeks. In recent years, I took a cue from my brother and started asking for cheesecake on my birthday. Last fall, my husband made one with a salted caramel topping that oozed down the sides of each cut piece; it was heavenly. He is such a good baker. As fancy and scrumptious as that was, I tend to lean toward simple flavors: lemon, almond or plain are my favorites. You can leave the peanut butter cups and cookie dough out of my slice, thank you. And so, as I flipped through The Mile End Cookbook to decide what to make for April Cook the Books, a light bulb went on and the angels started singing as I found the page for cheesecake.

Mile End is a deli in Brooklyn started by a Montreal native, homesick for smoked meat sandwiches, and his wife, who had grown up “in (a) somewhat lapsed kosher household” in New York City and northern New Jersey. The Mile End Cookbook is a celebration of the Jewish comfort food they know and love: kreplach, chopped liver, lox, blintzes, mandelbrot, pickled vegetables, those smoked meat sandwiches and so much more. I am new to Jewish cooking– I have never in my life had matzo ball soup– but the flavors are familiar and inviting. As is the case with most Cook the Books choices, I wanted to try every recipe, and though my plans were lofty, I have several pages earmarked to try at some point; hamantaschen, knishes and maple baked beans are just a few.

So why did I choose something like cheesecake, something I’ve had dozens of times? Because this is New York cheesecake, authentic cheesecake, legendary stuff, and I have never made one. As I mentioned before, my Mom’s recipe is a little different, and it’s my go-to, so this recipe looked very new and was a challenge I wanted to try. The Mile End recipe is easy, with straightforward ingredients and methods, and the results were largely positive. Visually, it’s a beauty, with a cream-colored top (I wimped out and didn’t dare to get the dark brown of the cake in the book’s picture– I just don’t trust my oven). The texture is silken and the flavor is lemony, which I like a lot, and not overly sweet, which I like a lot. The cons? It tasted salty to me, which is shocking, coming from this self-described “salt tooth”, and I am not sure whether it was set in the middle. I think I did it right, followed the directions to the letter for checking temperature, but it was mighty soft in the center. And, though a paltry concern, the recipe calls for a 12″ cake pan– who has that? Am I the only one without one? I have a fairly well-stocked supply of baking pans and didn’t even know that was an option. I scaled the crust recipe back slightly and used my 9″ pan instead.

The verdict is that this is an absolute winner, a keeper recipe I foresee making for years to come. The cookbook provides three compote recipes to use for toppings– the fig and honey is particularly intriguing, as soon as figs are good again– and my choice of sliced, macerated strawberries was as tasty as it was simple. Really, this cheesecake is so good you don’t need a topping; that’s just lipstick on a pig. But sometimes lipstick is good, and you have infinite options for changing this recipe up with any fruit you can think of, fresh or in a compote. I hope you will seek out The Mile End Cookbook and take a look at this recipe, and all the others, for yourself.

Next up for Cook the Books: Tender by Nigel Slater. Perfect, perfect, perfect. I love that book so very much, and look forward to choosing which recipe to play with. Stay tuned!

Chicken thighs with tarragon mushroom sauce.

Tags

chicken, mushrooms, tarragon

How funny that, at my house, we consider chicken a treat. Once considered everyday fare, it can be difficult to find good-quality chicken at a reasonable price, so we rarely buy any. In the early years of cooking for myself, I used chicken more than any other protein; it was inexpensive (my eyes were not yet open, shall we say), versatile and plentiful. I was comfortable cooking it on the stove top or in the oven, scared of working with fish, unaware how to use tofu, unsure how to properly cook beef and worried about undercooking pork. Nowadays, when I do have the chance to buy good chicken, I like whole birds, to roast with lemon, shallots & thyme, or bone-in thighs. Flavorful, moist and adaptable to so many recipes, I would take thighs over a skinless boneless anything any day of the week. It’s easy to remove the skin if you prefer.

This dinner was built around tarragon. I happened to have chicken in the fridge, intending to bake it and use the meat for a pot pie or with dumplings. As I was starting to prepare it for the oven, I saw a bunch of tarragon and recalled a beloved dish from my college years: chicken tarragon salad from Wild Oats in the Tontine Mall in Brunswick. A great little soup and sandwich shop, Wild Oats introduced me to tabbouleh, curried chicken, minestrone and that wonderful chicken tarragon salad. Chicken and tarragon are best friends, in my culinary world, so it was a no-brainer to put them together for dinner. The mushrooms were just because (and they worked!); the cream was to replicated the creaminess of the mayo in the salad I was thinking about. I don’t think I had ever tasted tarragon before that Wild Oats salad, but now I love that herbal, anise-y flavor and use it in pickles, to infuse vinegar, with seafood (especially lobster, when I am lucky enough to have any) and with eggs.

This chicken dish is quick to prepare and has a surprising depth of flavor; with just a few ingredients, you can really taste the mushrooms, the tarragon, etc. You could use boneless thighs or breasts, even drumsticks, if you prefer; make sure to adjust the cooking time accordingly. I served the chicken with roasted asparagus spears and found the only thing missing on my plate was a crusty piece of bread, spoonful of rice or noodles to sop up the extra sauce. Simple, tasty, a dish I will make again.

Chicken Thighs with Tarragon Mushroom Sauce

• 4 organic chicken thighs
• 2 T. olive oil
• 1/2  tsp. dried thyme
• 2 – 3 cloves of garlic, chopped roughly
• 1 c. chicken stock or water
• 2 tsp. butter
• 1 c. sliced mushrooms
• 1/3 c. cream
• salt & pepper to taste
• 1 T. (or more) fresh tarragon, chopped

To a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat, add the oil and dried thyme and cook the chicken thighs, skin side down, until they are golden brown. This takes about 8-10 mins. depending on your pan; do not move or flip the chicken or it will stick and the skin will be soggy. I find that the chicken will release from the pan without sticking when it’s ready. Anyhow, when your chicken is golden, flip it and add the garlic to the pan. Cook for about a minute, until you start to smell the garlic, then add the stock or water. Lower the heat to the high end of medium and simmer for an additional 10-15 mins.; the chicken is done when a meat thermometer registers 165 degrees. Remove the chicken to a plate to rest; reserve the pan juices in a bowl.

In the same pan you cooked the chicken in, melt the butter and add the sliced mushrooms. Cook for 2-3 mins. and then return 1/4 – 1/2 c. of the reserved pan juices (you can skim the fat if you like, add the garlic back in or not) and increase the heat slightly. You want to reduce the sauce while finishing the mushrooms; this generally takes about 4-6 mins. When the sauce has reduced by about half, add the cream, lower the heat and cook for another minute or so, to warm through and thicken the sauce. Season with salt & pepper to taste.

To serve, place one or two thighs on a plate and ladle mushrooms and sauce over the top. Garnish each piece with a liberal amount of tarragon.

Rhubarb ginger jam.

Tags

crystallized ginger, jam, lime, rhubarb

If I had to choose one jam, just one, to have for the rest of my life, it would be rhubarb ginger. There are so many reasons why that would be my choice; I shall give you bullet points.

• It is delicious.
• It is easy to make.
• You can use fresh rhubarb or some from the freezer and no one will know the difference, so you can make it in July or January or April.
• It is “exotic”, so people think you’re “fancy”.
• It is equally at home on toast, in Greek yogurt or on grilled chicken.
• Sometimes it’s mauve, sometimes pink like Macintosh applesauce, sometimes almost green, so it keeps you guessing, and looks pretty in the cupboard.
• Ginger is good for your tummy.
• It is delicious.

There. I think that sums it up nicely. Rhubarb ginger jam is the best. If you know me and I have ever given you a jar of jam, chances are good it was a jar of this, unless you specifically told me (or implied) that you are not a rhubarb fan. And saying that, I can proudly say that more than one “not a rhubarb fan” recipients have tried and liked this, though I tend not to share it with folks I think won’t care for it or (horror!) may throw it out. What an epic waste that would be. When asked what it tastes like, it’s hard to say if you haven’t tried rhubarb before. I grew up eating it in cobblers, pies, cakes, sometimes raw, and love the tart kick of a crisp stalk of ‘barb. Though cooking mellows out that tartness some, and softens it quite a bit, I love that the sugar necessary to make a nice rhubarb jam doesn’t overpower that little kick with sweetness. Ginger gives the jam a nice peppery bite, just an accent, and lime juice and zest a bright note to round it all the way out. Sweet, tart, spicy and bright– I love this jam. I could eat some every day; it’s the only jam I make that I might actually attack with a spoon, toast or yogurt be damned.

We are just coming into rhubarb season in the Northwest– my little plant is chugging along, it’s popping up at the farmers’ market in small, tantalizing bunches and was even spotted last week at the grocery store. It’s usually fairly inexpensive and will keep for a few days in the fridge if you need to store it. Economics-wise, the ingredients for this jam are favorable, since you don’t need flats and flats of rhubarb and there are no pesky peels or pits to toss into the compost bin. For reference, four medium-diameter, foot-long stalks weighed just over a pound and yielded almost 4 c. chopped rhubarb (the other 4 c. came from the freezer). The recipe can be halved, but I wouldn’t multiply it; it doesn’t cook down as well. If you find that you didn’t buy or pick enough rhubarb, try making up the difference (no more than 2 of the 8 c. of fruit, please) with chopped apples or sliced strawberries for a different take. Rhubarb ginger jam is the epitome of spring, a perfect bite, and I hope you will grow to love it as I do.

Rhubarb Ginger Jam (makes about 6 half-pints)

• 8 c. rhubarb, fresh, frozen or a mix, cut into bite-sized pieces*
• 4 c. organic evaporated cane juice or sugar, divided
• 1 c. water
• zest of one lime
• juice of one lime
• pinch of salt
• 1/2 c. crystallized (candied) ginger, minced

Day 1: Combine the rhubarb pieces and 1 c. sugar in a glass or ceramic bowl and toss to combine. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Day 2: Start a water bath and sterilize your jars and lids. In a jam pan, Dutch oven or equivalent, combine the rhubarb (with all of the juice it released and any undissolved sugar from the bowl you refrigerated overnight), water and the remaining 3 c. sugar. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and add the lime juice, zest and salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until the jam thickens noticeably and starts to bubble more rapidly, about 10 mins. Add the ginger and continue to cook until the jam is set: this information from Food in Jars is very helpful in determining set point, if you have questions. I have made this jam a dozen times; you won’t get a firm, flip-the-jar-and-it-stays-in-place set, but it does thicken quickly and reliably. I use the sheet test to determine when the rhubarb ginger jam is ready to jar.

When you reach the set point, ladle hot jam into hot, sterilized jars; wipe the rims of each jar and affix the lids. Process the jars in a water bath for 10 mins.; remove to a clear, towel-lined counter and allow to sit untouched overnight. Check that each jar is sealed; refrigerate unsealed jars immediately. Properly sealed jars will keep in a cool, dark cupboard for up to a year.

*If you buy rhubarb at the market or store, it should be ready to work with after washing and drying. If you plan to harvest your own and haven’t done so before, take a look at this site for how-to; you want to stay away from the leaves and pull, not cut, to maximize output.

Ziti with wood sorrel pesto & devil’s club shoots.

Tags

devil's club shoots, foraging, pasta, pesto, wood sorrel

This meal was a celebration of foraged food. I am not quite at the point of being able to gather plants myself, but I am utterly fascinated by the idea of being able to go out for a walk and come home with dinner. Is there anything cooler than that? To be self-sufficient in that manner takes real confidence and dedication to studying plants– you don’t want to be cavalier and make a mistake here. There are so many nutritious, delicious, powerful edible plants that most people know nothing about; to unlock all that knowledge is a tantalizing prospect. I am just starting to learn about protein-rich nettles, elderflowers and elderberries, licorice fern, miner’s lettuce, etc. Last spring, I made simple syrup with lilacs; this year I may try eating lilies. It is important for me to say that I don’t advocate wandering into the woods and picking leaves, herbs, flowers, mushrooms, etc. without an experienced guide. Please. Use common sense and be cautious above all else. In my area, there are many guided foraging tours available; do some research so you don’t get in trouble. When in doubt, DON’T EAT IT.

In addition to guided tours, I am lucky to have a source of edible wild plants at my Sunday farmers’ market: Foraged & Found Edibles. It’s like a treasure hunt to shop here– their tables last week featured fiddleheads, nettles, a few varieties of wild mushrooms, wood sorrel and devil’s club shoots, which I had never seen or heard of before. I picked up a bag of wood sorrel, which we love in salads, quiche and this pesto; it is sometimes called sourgrass because of the pucker-inducing effects of oxalic acid. I also got a tiny amount of devil’s club shoots, maybe a cup’s worth, because I was intrigued; I put the wood sorrel and shoots together last night to make a simple pasta dish that was a real treat.

The representative at the Foraged & Found table recommended braising the devil’s club shoots in butter after blanching them. They are visually reminiscent of asparagus tips, though fuzzy and covered in tiny spikes, especially the larger shoots. I had some trouble finding recipes for them online, so I followed his advice and kept the preparation simple. After rinsing the shoots carefully and picking out a few stray leaves and blades of grass, I blanched them in boiling water for 2 mins. and then shocked them in ice water. Drained and cooled, the tougher outer leaves came off easily, and I then cut them into bite size pieces to cook with. The flavor of the blanched shoots is pine-like, though the assertiveness of that flavor seems to abate as you eat more. It made me think of Mediterranean flavors– lemon, rosemary, oregano, etc.– so the use of garlicky pesto seemed appropriate. That’s also why I chose to use Aleppo pepper. For the pesto, I used the same recipe I used last spring, with a bit more garlic this time around. Wood sorrel pesto is the bomb. (I never say that, but it is.) It is bright green, vaguely lemony and just tastes good. It’s such a treat.

With the help of an experienced guide or a company like Foraged & Found, you too can enjoy the thrills of edible plants, whether they are new discoveries or something you look forward to finding for a few weeks each year. Again, please, please be cautious about obtaining safe plants and be sure that what you pick is what you think it is. And when you are sure, enjoy cooking with your treasures! I would love to hear from any readers who have experience with devil’s club shoots– how do you cook with them?

Ziti with Wood Sorrel Pesto & Devil’s Club Shoots

• 1/2 lb. ziti, cooked according to package directions (fettucine would also be nice), 1/2 c. cooking liquid reserved
• 2 T. butter
• 2 T. olive oil
• 1/2 tsp. Aleppo pepper (substitute red pepper flakes if you like)
• 1 – 2 c. blanched devil’s club shoots, outer leaves trimmed, cut into bite-size pieces
• salt & pepper to taste
• 1 recipe of wood sorrel pesto (about 2/3 c.)
• Parmesan cheese to serve (optional)

In a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, melt the butter and add the olive oil and Aleppo pepper. Add the blanched devil’s club shoots to the pan and turn to coat with butter; cover and braise (I use this term semi-loosely) slowly for about 7 min., until tender. Add the cooked pasta and reserved pasta water to the pan and toss gently. Season with salt & pepper to taste. At this point, you can stir in the pesto or serve the pasta with a generous dollop of pesto on each bowl. The benefit of the latter is that it preserves the bright green color of the pesto; wood sorrel grays when heated. The benefit of mixing it all together is that the garlic cooks slightly, so the raw edge is taken off. Either way is delightful. Serve warm or cold with a sprinkling of Parmesan, if desired.

If you can’t find devil’s club shoots, asparagus could be substituted; wood sorrel pesto can be replaced by an equal amount of basil or scape pesto.

For more information about recipes using foraged edibles, check out First Ways, based in Portland, Oregon or Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, based in northern California. These two sites are personal favorites; I gain information and inspiration from them both. Look for similar blogs/companies/sites in the area you live in for more regionally-specific information.

Celebrating Seattle sweets.

Tags

Bluebird ice cream, molten chocolate cake, Theo chocolate

When my sister visits from Maine, we tend to go on an eating tour of Seattle– so far this visit we’ve been to Lola, Pie, Top Pot Doughnuts, Theo Chocolate and Bluebird Microcreamery. (Makes me a little dizzy to think of so much sugar, but hey, I’m on vacation too!) Friday night, with ingredients from the latter two destinations, we made molten cakes to eat with salted caramel ice cream– a decadent treat. The flavor of the Theo chocolate in the cakes was dark and rich, more prominent than I expected and everything I had hoped for it to be. Though I am usually all about substitutions and improvising with ingredients you have on hand, I highly encourage you to find and use the Theo bars we used for these cakes; the combination of bright orange with the subtle texture and flavor of coconut was divine against the backdrop of dark chocolate. Theo bars are sold in many Whole Foods across the country and in the easy-to-navigate online store, if you’re outside of Seattle. WA residents, it’s a real treat to head to the retail store in Fremont to stock up– there are SAMPLES.

Molten Cakes with Theo Chocolate

• 8 T. unsalted butter, plus more for the ramekins
• One 3 oz. 70% dark chocolate bar with orange
• One 3 oz. 70% dark chocolate bar with coconut
• 3 large eggs
• 1/4 c. sugar, plus more for the ramekins
• pinch of salt
• 2 T. flour

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Generously butter three or four ramekins and then sprinkle about 1 tsp. of sugar into each; turn until the sugar coats the inside of each ramekin and shake off any excess.

In a large glass bowl set over simmering water, break the chocolate bars into small pieces and melt them with the butter. In a separate mixing bowl, whip the eggs (I did it by hand, but you could use a mixer) until light and frothy; mix in the sugar and salt. When the chocolate mixture is melted, add the flour to the eggs and then stream in the chocolate slowly, whisking constantly, just until the flour and chocolate are incorporated into the eggs. Divide the cake batter between your prepared ramekins and bake for about 12 mins.; you want the top to be set and the sides to be starting to pull away from the ramekins. Allow the cakes to cool in the ramekins for just a few minutes and then run a knife around each cake and invert them onto a plate to serve. Sprinkle the tops with powdered sugar or serve with whipped cream or ice cream; we highly recommend Bluebird Microcreamery’s Salted Caramel.

Lemon-basil layer cake with lemon curd & vanilla frosting.

Tags

Baked Explorations, basil, lemon cake, lemon curd, milk sponge cake, vanilla frosting, whipped frosting

I had been thinking about this cake for weeks. I don’t make cake very often; it’s a treat for birthdays in most cases. I don’t care for frosting, as a general rule, (which mostly means that I don’t like making it) and think it is used with too heavy a hand in so many recipes. I like gingerbread with whipped cream, bundt cakes with powdered sugar or glaze, spice cake with cream cheese frosting… but just a little. I like the cake part of layer cakes, and I don’t like the delicate flavor of the cake to be overwhelmed by sugary, buttery plaster. I understand the allure of frosting: a well-made frosting, applied in moderation, is a beautiful thing. That was my goal with this cake. I think I did a good job.

My inspiration for the combination of flavors was spring, glorious spring! For the past few weeks, Seattle has been waking up. There is light (natural light!) when I walk the dog at 6:30 am, and it’s still around when we walk at 6:30 pm. Lovely. The trees are budding and flowering– magnolia, dogwood, plum, cherry and more on my street– and daffodils are out, almost done actually, making way for the tulips and hyacinths and forsythia. It is getting WARM. My windows are open. I want to clean and air out the stale house and eat greens and bake cakes with lemon and herbs in them.

Everyone loves a good lemon cake, I think, so my idea is not revolutionary, just cobbled together from a few recipes I like very much. I took a recipe from Baked Explorations for a milk sponge cake (part of the Boston Cream Pie Cake in the book) and added basil and lemon zest to get the flavor I wanted. The addition of basil was another one of my bee-in-the-bonnet ideas I get and can not let go of– I have wanted to make a lemon-basil cake for some time now, and it seemed like a good day for it. The texture of this cake is spongy, with a large crumb, just the kind of cake I like. For the center, I used a jar of lemon curd acquired in a barter a few months back; you can make your own (there are recipes like this one from Joy of Baking all over the internet) or use a store-bought jar. The frosting is my new favorite thing, a light, airy, butter-based, multi-purpose recipe from Stay For Dinner. It was easy to make and tastes delicious! I might try it next time with a touch less sugar, but my husband loves it, and it tastes better this morning, having mellowed out and made friends with the other elements of the cake. A keeper recipe for sure.

I started baking at 3 pm and had this cake assembled by 7 pm– it was easy to make and put together. You could smooth out the frosting (I was attempting airy whorls) and dress up the top with some candied basil leaves and/or lemon peel to make a real show-stopper. I ended up with about 1 c. extra frosting, so consider cutting the frosting recipe in half, though it was nice to have plenty to work with when frosting the sides. Lemon-basil layer cake is a taste of spring– sunny, with a little bit of green, sweet and sure to make you smile. There is nothing sad about this cake.*

Lemon-Basil Layer Cake with Lemon Curd & Vanilla Frosting

For the cake: (adapted from Baked Explorations)

• 6 T. unsalted butter, cut in small pieces
• 1/2 c. milk
• 1/4 c. cream (replace with milk if you like)
• zest of 1 large lemon
• 1/4 c. packed fresh basil leaves, minced
• 4 eggs, at room temperature
• 1 1/4 c. sugar
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 1/2 c. flour
• 1/4 c. cornstarch
• 1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. salt

To assemble:

• 1 c. lemon curd
• 1 recipe of whipped vanilla frosting 
• candied basil leaves and/or lemon peel to decorate (optional)

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees. Lightly grease 2 9″ cake pans, then line with parchment paper and lightly grease the top of the paper. Set aside.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter; remove from the heat as soon as it has melted and stir in the milk and cream (if using), lemon zest and basil. Set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the eggs, sugar and vanilla until light, airy and tripled in size. This will take at least 5 mins. While the mixer is going, sift together the flour, cornstarch, baking powder and salt. When the egg mixture is ready, remove the bowl from the mixer and use a large rubber spatula to fold 1/3 of the flour mixture in by hand, then fold in the remaining flour, just until combined. Add the still-warm (reheat for a minute if necessary) butter mixture to the batter and fold in, just until combined.

Divide the cake batter evenly between your two prepared pans and bake for 20-25 mins.; rotate the pans midway through the baking time to ensure even baking/browning. When the cakes are done, cool on a rack for 15-20 mins., until they can be handled, then run a knife around each pan and invert the cakes onto sheets of plastic wrap. Remove the parchment paper and wrap each cake in plastic wrap to help keep it moist. Cool completely.

When you are ready to assemble the cake, make your frosting according to the directions in the Stay for Dinner link. Unwrap one layer and place it on a plate; cover it evenly with lemon curd. You can warm the curd gently in a bowl over hot water if it is especially thick and challenging to spread. Place the second cake on the lemon curd and dollop frosting generously on top; you will have enough to frost the top and sides of your cake, probably with some left over. Decorate, if you like, with candied basil and/or lemon peel. The cake is ready to eat immediately but does taste better after the flavors meld for several hours or overnight; it should keep at room temperature for about 3 days or refrigerated for about 5. If you refrigerate the cake, bring it to room temperature before serving.

*I wanted badly to call this Aimee Bender Cake, a nod to my favorite author and reference to her most recent book, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake. But, I was worried that no one would get the reference… and, as I said, there is nothing at all sad about this cake.

Mac & cheese with broccoli and bacon.

Tags

bacon, broccoli, Easter dinner, mac & cheese

Mac & cheese casserole was a staple on the table at Easter. It always tasted so good with the ham that was the centerpiece of the meal and I thought it was something everyone had at holiday dinner. We used to get the entire family together at the house that belonged to Gram, my Dad’s mom– our family, Dad’s two brothers and two sisters and their families– my primary memories are of laughter, Yahtzee, Celtics basketball and that giant, impressive ham. I remember begging Mom for an extra dinner roll, because if you’re eating mac & cheese, Aunt Judy’s legendary potato salad, Gram’s pineapple pie (my favorite) and Easter candy all day, what’s one more roll? One year my youngest brother broke his leg and sat outside by the still-covered pool for… awhile, because he wasn’t crying and the adults were preoccupied with the bounty on the dinner table… I think of those gatherings every year on Easter Sunday, but it’s been a long time since I thought of that mac & cheese. Though I actually made this recipe almost a month ago, it seems fitting to write about it this week.

I’ve talked before about mac & cheese– my husband loves it, and so do I, really, but I don’t make it often because it feels like so much for two people. I’ve tried versions with less cheese, shored up by canned tomatoes and spicy jalapenos, but it’s hard to really think of that as mac & cheese; it’s more of a saucy pasta dish. My friends recently welcomed their first daughter and I took a few meals over to help out; on the request of the new dad, I included a fairly traditional mac & cheese made with cheddar and romano cheeses. I could tell that my husband was a little bummed to see it go out the door, so I decided to make one for him later that week. Broccoli was intended to be the side dish, but I love a good one-pot meal, so in it went. Believe it or not, the bacon was an afterthought– I needed to use up two slices, so I did. (It did nicely in place of a slice of Easter ham, I suppose.)

When you make this dish, I highly recommend adding the broccoli, but the bacon is optional, a special touch but not the highlight of this dish. The star here is the cheese in all its creamy, melted glory. The romano is a very deliberate addition, though it seems like almost an afterthought; it lends a nutty, sharp, salty quality that beautiful complements the cheddar. (The saltiness explains why the amount of romano used seems small.) If you need a substitute, parmesan will work, but see if you can find a small piece of romano– it will last forever in the fridge if you can’t use it all at once. I often find small pieces of romano in the cheese bites basket in the deli section of my grocery store.

You can serve this mac & cheese as an entree or a side dish, Easter Sunday or another day; I hope you enjoy it as much as we do. It’s nice to have a special occasion dish that brings back so many good memories of family gathered in celebration. Whether your family observes Passover, Easter or something else altogether, I hope your traditions will be cherished as much as mine.

Mac & Cheese with Broccoli and Bacon

• 1/2 lb. pasta, cooked according to package directions to “al dente”, drained
• 2 (or more) slices good-quality, thick-cut bacon (optional)
• 3 – 4 c. fresh broccoli, cut into bite-size florets and pieces
• 1/4 c. water
• 2 T. butter
• 2 T. flour
• liberal amount of black pepper, preferably freshly ground
• 1/2 tsp. Colman’s mustard powder (optional)
• 1 1/2 c. whole milk
• 1 1/2 c. medium orange cheddar, shredded and separated 
• 1/2 c. romano cheese, shredded
• salt to taste

The beauty of this recipe to me is that I make the whole thing in one pot, but you feel free to use more than one, if you like. You’ll also want to have ready a lightly greased 2 qt. casserole pan, with the oven preheated to 350 degrees.*

Heat a large stainless steel saucepan or enameled Dutch oven (I use the same pot the pasta was cooked in) over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook, flipping after about 3-4 mins., until golden brown on both sides and crispy, but not burnt. Remove the bacon to a plate or cutting board and drain any excess drippings until about 2 T. remains in the saucepan. (If you’re not using bacon, add 1 T. butter or olive oil to the pan in place of the drippings.) Add the broccoli pieces to the warm pan (still over medium heat) and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 3 mins. You should start to see a little bit of color on the vegetables, but they will remain firm. By this point, the bottom of the pan will be quite brown from cooking the bacon, which is good, because brown is flavor. Add the water to the pan and use a wooden spoon to scrape as much of the flavor off the bottom, then cover and steam the broccoli for another 3 mins., longer if you prefer your vegetables softer. Add the cooked broccoli to the drained pasta; chop the reserved bacon, if using, and add that to the pasta, as well.

In the same pot, even if the bottom is still a little brown, melt the butter over medium-low heat. When it’s melted, stir in the flour until you have a thick sauce, or roux. Cook this very carefully for a minute or so over medium heat; you want it to brown slightly and cook out the raw flour taste that can ruin a good cheese sauce. Add the pepper and mustard, if using, and stir to combine. Whisk in the milk, 1/4 c. at a time, until you have the a nice white sauce (probably with flecks of brown, which is okay); if you add a little milk at a time and incorporate it thoroughly before adding more, you won’t have to worry about lumps.  Continue whisking, and the white sauce should begin to thicken immediately; as soon as it does, add in 1 c. of the cheddar cheese and all of the romano cheese and stir until the cheese is melted. Taste the cheese sauce and add salt, maybe more pepper, to taste. Combine the pasta, broccoli, bacon and cheese sauce and mix well; pour into your prepared casserole dish and sprinkle the remaining 1/2 c. cheddar over the top. Bake for 20-30 mins., until heated through; the cheese on top should be melted and golden brown. Serve immediately.

*You don’t have to bake the mac & cheese, since all elements are thoroughly cooked when combined. If you want a stovetop-only version, just add all the cheddar cheese to the sauce; no need to reserve any for the top.