There will be leftovers

So…hello there.  Yes, I know…it’s been some time, hasn’t it?

I suppose it happens to everyone…

that annoying combination of too much to do, too many things to say and not enough time to say it. 

And then, there was the garden.  I’ll save that story of heartbreak for another time.

Summer’s over.  Clearly.

Thanksgiving is less than a week away.  And here we are.

I’m going to just pick right up and tell you about something I prepared last year with my turkey leftovers.  I plan to cook it again this year because we loved it so much.

I typically leave folks to fend for themselves on the Friday after.  Quite frankly, that Friday after the holiday I am tired of cooking.  There.  I have said it.  And I’m fairly certain it happens to the best of us.  So on the day after…there is plenty to go around for sandwiches, and Thanksgiving dinner plate recreations that everyone assembles on their own.

But, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving last year, I found myself with enough energy and interest to try my hand at a pot pie I saw in one of my old issues of Gourmet.  (Sigh.  It’s my back issues that sustain me now.  This was the 2007 November issue for those of you with similar libraries.  For those who have embraced iPads and laptops in the kitchen, here’s the link.)  It looked like a fine way to cook up what remained of the turkey before anyone could tire of it.

That Saturday, I poured myself a lovely glass of wine and started in on disassembling the carcass to make a stock.  (Making stock from the leftover bones leaves you with a virtuous feeling I highly recommend.)  The pot pie came out of the oven looking like a team of food stylists had been at it for hours.  The biscuit top was all mouth-wateringly golden with sightings of bubbling sauce below.  Sitting down to watch a movie and nibbling this creamy wonder was incredibly satisfying.  Maybe it was the fact that it was a ‘one-pot’ dish after a holiday that was all about a million sides.  But I think it was really the biscuit topping that had me from the start.  Crisp and beautifully browned on top, tender and flecked with grated Cheddar and Parmesan inside, it was the very definition of comfort food. 

So if you’re doing your shopping for the big holiday, pick up what you’ll need for the pot pie…(I don’t feel ready to set foot in a grocery store for at least several days after all the festivities.) and know that your leftovers never had it so good.

Turkey Potpie with Cheddar Biscuit Crust

Adapted from Gourmet, November 2007

Serves 8

NOTE:   Three parts here folks – a super easy stock (or use pre-made chicken stock if you’ve tossed your carcass), the filling and the biscuit topping.

Make the Stock:

Carcass and skin from a 12-14 lb roasted bird*

10 cups water

*If your turkey was brined – omit the salt

Separate parts of the carcass and put the bones, the skin and water in a large stockpot.  Simmer until liquid is reduced by one third, about 1 ½ hours.  Strain into a large bowl and set aside 3 ½ cups for the filling – freeze the rest for another time.

Make the Filling:

1 medium onion, coarsely chopped

2 large carrots, cut into ½-inch pieces

2 celery ribs, cut into ½-inch pieces

1 large parsnip (peeled), cored and cut into ½-inch pieces

1 teaspoon chopped thyme

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

½ lb. mushrooms, trimmed and quartered

¼ cup all-purpose flour

4 cups roast turkey meat, cut into ½-inch pieces

1 (10 oz.) package frozen baby peas, thawed

  Add mushrooms and cook, uncovered, stirring until tender, 5-7 minutes.

Sprinkle with flour and cook, stirring constantly, 2 minutes. 

Stir in stock (3 ½ cups), scraping up any brown bits, and bring to a boil, stirring, then simmer until slightly thickened, about 3 minutes. 

Stir in turkey, peas, and salt and pepper to taste. 

Reheat over low heat, and transfer mixture to a lasagna pan or large rectangular  (13 x 9) baking dish, just before topping with biscuit crust.

For the Biscuit Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon pepper

1 cup coarsely grated extra-sharp Cheddar

¼ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

¾ stick cold unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces

1 ¼ cups well-shaken buttermilk

Preheat oven to 400 F. with rack in middle.

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and pepper into a medium bowl.  Add cheeses and toss to coat.  Blend in butter with a pastry blender or your fingertips until mixture resembles coarse meal.

Add buttermilk and stir just until a dough forms.  Drop biscuit dough onto filling in 8 large mounds, leaving spaces between biscuits.

Bake until biscuits are puffed and golden brown and filling is bubbling, 35 to 40 minutes.  Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

The Other Side of Thanksgiving

Oh, sure...we could be talking about cranberry sauce right now...or rehashing the old pecan vs. pumpkin pie debate.  Or, maybe I should try to persuade you of the wisdom of a dry brine, but no...well actually, I can't help myself...I think I will reference an article below about dry brining a turkey, you know...just to get you to consider it. 

Really though, I think it's my duty to remind you all of an important point about Thanksgiving.   
There are those other meals.

I had to learn this the hard way years ago.  Having spent weeks before Thanksgiving studying all the November issues of the cooking magazines and going through my shelves of cookbooks, I was obsessed with my grocery list for the big meal.  I checked and re-checked my ingredient lists.  I did several rounds of grocery shopping at different stores to round up everything we needed.  We were going to have a house full of family members and were cooking dinner for 16 or 18--I can't really remember the exact number--and I worried about the turkey...and the side dishes...and the pies....and everything really. 

And, then, you know what happened?  My brother-in-law walked into the kitchen around noon on Thanksgiving.  He was hungry and wanted to make a sandwich.  And, umm...actually...there was nothing to eat.  Right then.  I mean...later, yes, there would be plenty to eat...but in that very moment?  Uh, there was nothing ready and I realized that I never thought about anything outside the main meal, which is kind of silly, because, people actually do get hungry before the Thanksgiving meal...and then, too, the next day, and the next...and, if they're staying with you for the weekend, well, there's that too.

Yes, Thanksgiving is about that big deal with the turkey and everything, but then, it's kind of about the little meals here and there you'll be sharing with your family and friends over those couple days too.

Sandwiches are an easy way to have a snack earlier in the day on Thanksgiving and will help everyone keep from getting too crabby while waiting for the main event.  Trust me on this.  I stock up on some sliced salami or prosciutto and crusty baguette for a little change from all that turkey we'll all be eating over the next several days. 

Breakfasts are nice to share with family that's visiting over a holiday weekend.  Make sure you've got enough coffee, milk, fruit and cereal.  Figure on cold pumpkin pie (oh.  is that just me?) or cold cereal that following Friday morning for sure...but maybe shoot for something a little more fun on Saturday or Sunday...I've talked about pancakes here before...and frittatas are lovely as well, but here's something I tried last month that I think I'll make again next weekend after the holiday:
sugared popovers.

Popovers are delightful because they're easy, but make a bit of a show-off-y splash when you pull them out of the oven with their crisp, golden bubble tops.  A spin-off of the savory Yorkshire pudding, a popover's eggy dough is a natural partner for any kind of jam you'd care to slather on, making them perfect at breakfast time.  These sugared puffs take popovers a delicious step further.  Developed by David Lebovitz for a New York Times article on a 1966 Maida Heatter recipe, they're like what would happen if cinnamon toast married a doughnut and had kids.   You whiz the batter together in the blender, then pour and bake in a muffin pan.  Ridiculously easy, but with an awesome 'wow' factor.

My own Thanksgiving planning is in full swing.  The menu is coming together.  I'm going to be making the chutney this coming weekend.  And, yes, I've got the deli meat, bread and chips on the grocery list...
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

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Sugared Puffs

adapted from David Lebovitz

(makes 9 to 10 puffs)

Softened butter for greasing the muffin pan

For the puffs:

2 tablespoons butter, melted

3 large eggs, at room temperature

1 cup whole milke

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

1 cup flour

For the sugar coating:

2/3 cup sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

4 tablespoons butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Grease a non-stick muffin pan (or popover pan if you've got one) with softened butter.

For the puff batter:  

Combine 2 tablespoons melted butter, eggs, milk, salt and sugar in a blender and pulse for a few seconds.  

Add the flour and pulse for 5-8 seconds, just until the batter is smooth.

Pour into the muffin tins, filling each cup about half way.

Bake for 35 minutes, until the puffs are a deep golden brown.

Remove from the oven and wait a few minutes until cool enough to handle.  

Mix the sugar and cinnamon in a medium bowl.

Remove the puffs from the pan and brush with melted butter and then dredge in the cinnamon sugar mixture to coat.  Let cool on a baking rack.

Share with your house guests.

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Talking Turkey

Yes, I've tried brining, but all the wrestling with the bird, the bucket and making room in an already overstuffed Thanksgiving time refrigerator kind of wore me out, so I threw in the towel.  Until last year, when I tried the same technique I use with roast chicken--simply salting the bird a few days in advance--on the turkey.  Success!  And no giant bucket of salted water to contend with.  

Here's a link to the recipe, if you'd like to give it a try. 

 http://www.latimes.com/theguide/holiday-guide/food/la-fo-saltedturkey,0,3863680.story
 

Leaving Your Comfort Zone

I used to have one iron-clad rule when it came to cooking.

If, when reading through a recipe, I came across the words "candy thermometer"...
well, in the words of 30 Rock's Liz Lemon... "Deal Breaker!!".

My candy thermometer neurosis was not caused by any traumatic event that I can recall.  Candy thermometers are pretty affordable, and even easily found in the cooking utensil aisle of one's local supermarket.   

So what was up?  

By banning any kind of cooking that required a candy thermometer, I figured I was saving myself from certain heartbreak and disaster.  Recipes that require candy thermometers somehow seemed daunting with the odds of success definitely not in my favor.  We're talking about things like caramel and syrups and fudge and things needing to "set"...  Yikes.  If I'm going to be absolutely honest, I should tell you there's something about culinary failure that, unlike in other aspects of my life, really throws me for a loop.  I sulk.  I brood.  I keep going over and over it in my mind...what went wrong?  I boycott the stove.  We eat out for a stretch.  And then gradually, I get back on the horse, so to speak.  So, isn't it understandable if I go out of my way to avoid messing up in the kitchen? 

The thing that initially did me in and led to the purchase of a...(ahem)...candy thermometer (shocking, I know!) was fried chicken. Go figure.  Over the past few years I have been gradually preparing myself to make fried chicken.  This plan was part of my 2007 obsession with Southern cooking--our Christmas meal that year was a full, Southern brunch, which left my Eastern European family, vaguely puzzled, yet amenable to exploring the world of pickled green onions and shrimp-and-grits.  Sigh.  I should also mention, there was ham...welcome and familiar to everyone.  But, I digress...

So...I have yet to make fried chicken.  (Still researching.)  But, get this... I did buy a "deep fry" thermometer, in preparation for said Fried Chicken Experiment, which, lo and behold, is also a "candy thermometer".   Baby steps, people...baby steps...

Just having it in the kitchen drawer somehow made the possibility of using it slightly less menacing. 

It was a simple buttermilk cake with caramel glaze and the encouraging words of fellow blogger Deb, of Smitten Kitchen, that got me to go out on the limb.  (Oh, the beauty of food blogging!  I can't tell you how many times I've been willing to try a recipe based on the honest appraisal of a trusted food blogger.)  The cake worked out like a charm--of course!-- and was incredibly delicious to boot.  And the candy thermometer?  I'm happy to report, it was no big deal!  Ahh, confidence.

This is the path that led me to boldly tear a recipe for panettone from the pages of December's Martha Stewart Living.  Something like panettone would suffice in the 'high-difficulty' category I like to tackle for holiday baking and this looked like an exceptionally delicious version.

You know panettone, right?  Usually mass-produced and kind of blah-tasting, it's an eggy, brioche-type bread that always has golden raisins and some other type of too-chewy candied fruit, sold around the holidays at your local Italian grocery.  It's always packaged in those odd-shaped boxes...essentially, it's the Italian version of fruitcake.  Even Trader Joe's sells a version.  Panettone, I thought, could be like the holiday biscotti I make -- not something I would ordinarily like when someone else makes it, but customized... it could be heavenly. 

The recipe I tore out of the magazine called for candied orange peel, bought ready made, but I was convinced the way to go was to make my own.  Oh dear.  Cocky, no?

After a little internet research, I settled on David Lebovitz's recipe for the orange peel from his ice cream book, Perfect Scoop.   (Candy thermometer alert!!  Candy thermometer alert!!)  Unfazed, Operation Panettone marched onward.

A couple weekends ago it was time to seize the day, or rather, TWO days...step out of my comfort zone and look the possibility of failure straight in the eye.

It was a roller coaster ride that weekend.  The 'candied orange peel making incident' probably shaved a few years off my life, but was at the same time...exhilarating.  I overcooked it, thinking the syrup the orange peel was in was not look quite thick enough, (err, kind of disregarding the target temperature on said candy thermometer) and in the blink of an eye, the orange peel 'syrup' seized up and almost fully hardened.

Much frantic tugging, cursing, and scraping the now-near-taffy-like orange peel ensued, and I finally managed to dump it into the dough.  With a few swirls of the mixer paddle, the orange peel then balled itself up into a bowling ball sized lump in the center.  More cursing... then yanking of the gigantic orange peel ball from the dough followed.  Improvised step:  grab scissors and start snipping up the orange peel ball!  This seemed to work and it was with true relief that I folded the snipped orange peel into the dough and shoved the whole mess into the refrigerator for an overnight rise.

Long story short -- the panettone baked up the next day into two, (and I say this with all modesty) magnificent loaves.  The flavor combination of orange and bittersweet chocolate is one of my personal favorites and incorporated into the lovely moist brioche-style dough it turned out to be blockbuster. I don't know that I've ever had so many compliments on a baked good like this, and I must tell you the pride of seeing those two beautiful loaves resting out of the oven nearly made me burst.

So, heading into a new year, with all the talk of resolutions etc...I'd suggest instead of the usual half-hearted pledges to lose weight, or exercise more, blah blah blah...simply commit to the occasional stepping out of the comfortable, nothing-will-go-wrong routines you trust and do something that just might give you an unexpected outcome...and some thrills along the way.  Whether that does, or does not include a candy thermometer, is up to you.

Happy New Year.

*          *          *

NOTES:
1)  Recipe for homemade candied orange peel is below, although that's what I started working on first, during Operation: Panettone--Day One.

2)  I just might try soaking some golden raisins in hot water and adding them to the mix next time.

3)  Pretty (and festive) paper panettone molds with cardboard bottoms can be found at Sur La Table for 50 cents each, but my colleague and fellow baking afficionado, Mike G. suggested the option of a brown lunch sack, rolled down to about half height.

4)  The flour's weight is more important than its volume, so the recipe suggests using a kitchen scale for measuring your flour.

5)  A sturdy, stand mixer is a must with this recipe and get that dough-hook attachment ready! (This was my first-time-ever using it, since I'm not really a bread-baking type.

Panettone
adapted from Martha Stewart Living and John Barricelli, host of Everyday Baking From Everyday Food
Makes two 5 1/4 inch round loaves

1 tablespoon plus 1 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast (two 1/4 oz. envelopes)
1/3 cup whole milk, warmed
14 oz. unbleached bread flour (about 3 cups), plus more for surface
1/4 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs, lightly beaten, plus 1 large egg (for glaze)
1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt
10 oz. (2 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
5 1/2 oz. bittersweet chocolate -- coarsely chopped -- about 1 1/4 cups (Valhrona is my favorite)
1 cup diced candied (glazed) orange peel)
1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract
1/2 teaspoon pure orange extract
Vegetable oil -- for the bowl

For the top: 
2 teaspoons best-quality unsweetened cocoa powder
Pearl sugar, for sprinkling (I couldn't find this anywhere, so didn't use it)
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sliced almonds, for sprinkling

1.  Sprinkle yeast over milk in the bwl of a mixer fitted with the dough-hook attachment.  Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes.  Sprinkle 2 ounces flour (about 1/2 cup) and 1 tablespoon granulated sugar over top.  Cover with plastic, and let stand for 1 hour.

2.  Add remaining 12 ounces flour and 3 tablespoons granulated sugar, the beaten eggs, and the salt.  Mix together on medium speed until dough forms a smooth, stiff ball, about 5 minutes.
Add butter, 1 tablespoon at a time, mixing well after each addition.  (this takes a while, and there are moments where it almost seemed that the mixer was going to give out on me!)

3.  Switch to paddle attachment, and mix dough on medium-high speed for 5 minutes.  Reduce speed to low, and add chocolate, orange peel, and extracts.  Mix until combined.

4.  Turn out dough onto a clean surface, and form into a ball.  Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl.  Cover with plastic, and refrigerate overnight.

5.  Bring dough to room temperature, and divide in half.  Form each half into a ball; place each in a 5 1/4-by-3 3/4-inch paper panettone mold.  Transfer to a baking sheet.  Let stand in a warm place until doubled in volume -- about 2 hours.

**by this time it will feel like you have been making panettone for an eternity...but do not lose hope -- write some holiday cards... have a glass of wine... the fun is only getting started.

6.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees (finally!!).  Lightly beat remaining egg and the cocoa powder together.  Brush glaze mixture onto panettone dough, and sprinkle with pearl sugar (if you've got it) and sliced almonds.  Bake until golden brown, about 50 minutes.

7.  Remove molds from oven, and run a wooden skewer horizontally through the bottom of each panettone loaf.  Hang loaves upside down (wacky, I know!!) by propping ends of each skewer on 2 large heavy cans, or your flour/sugar cannisters.  Let cool completely.

Step back and admire.  You've done it!!

Panettone can be stored, wrapped in plastic, at room temperature for up to 3 days.
(I've been told it makes tremendous base for bread pudding, but alas, ours did not last that long.)


For the bold and unafraid -- 
Candied Orange Peel 
adapted from The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

(makes about 1 cup)

4 large oranges, preferably unsprayed--washed
2 cups water
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon light corn syrup
Pinch of salt

With a vegetable peeler, remove strips of peel 1 inch wide from the oranges, cutting lengthwise down the fruit.  Remove just the colorful outer peel, leaving behind the bitter white pith.  Using a very sharp knife, slice the peel lenghtwise into very thin strips no wider than a toothpick.

Put the strips of peel in a small, nonreactive saucepan, add enough water to cover them by a few inches, and bring to a boil.  Reduce to a gentle boil and cook for 15 minutes.  Remove from the heat, strain the peel, and rinse with fresh water.

Combine the 2 cups water, sugar, corn syrup and salt in the saucepan.
Fit the pan with a candy thermometer (!) and bring to a boil.  Add blanched peel, reduce the heat and cook at a very low boil for about 25 minutes, until the thermometer reads 230 degrees F.  Turn off the heat and let peel cool in the syrup.

Once cool, lift peel out of syrup and snip into small pieces with scissors before adding to panettone dough.

Pan cleaning note:
This was a great tip I got from my aunt after I told her of the disastrous, sticky mess left behind in my fancy All-Clad saucepan.
Add tablespoon of Cascade dishwasher liquid to the pan with hot water and place over very low heat.
Stir and voila -- watch as the glued particles pull away from the pan.
Probably the best advice I've received in years!! Thank you!

Holiday Baking

I know, I know, it's That Season...
...of perhaps one too many glasses of bubbly...of rich foods eaten in copious quantities...of occasionally frantic list-making...and, yes, the slightly wacky music that wedges itself in one's brain for eternity.  (Example:  Mele Kalikimaka.  It's a song from an old Bing Crosby holiday record--with the Andrews' Sisters singing backup-- about a Hawaiian Christmas and I know ALL the lyrics, by heart.  Weird.)

It's also the season for baking.

Suddenly, in the weeks leading up to the holidays, otherwise ordinary people I know turn into night-prowling, super-human pastry chefs...their lives becoming a cycle of double-shifts as they bake their way through challenging holiday cookie recipes after their day jobs are done and night has fallen.

I've had my own ups and downs with holiday baking.

Typically, early in December, I begin an overly ambitious list of baked goods I plan to tackle.  True to form, this year included a weeklong obsession with making croquembouche, or as my French friend, N., likes to say simply "choux".  This towering assemblage of profiteroles built in the shape of a giant cone and drizzled with caramel is like climbing Everest in the pastry world, so I'm not sure why I thought I might be up to the task.  (See above...I've had my ups and downs with baking.)   After several days of surfing various cooking sites and blogs, the enormity of such a project sank in and defeated, I moved on to searching the Bay Area Chowhound boards for suggestions on local bakeries that carry my beloved pastry during the holiday season.

My holiday baking list always includes the now near-legendary White Chocolate Apricot Biscotti, which as noted before, make me as well as others, very happy.  Another classic that makes an appearance every year or two is oddly enough...a brownie.  This one is a cream cheese swirl brownie, with the added festive touch of orange zest mixed into the cream cheese topping.  I cut the brownies into tiny, bite-sized squares and they never fail to delight adults and children alike.  I'll make a batch this year, simply to honor the fact that they are from a particularly beautiful back issue of, ahem, Gourmet.

Now that Gourmet is gone, my holiday issue magazine stack is not as large, and I'm still trolling for the year's  'new' cookie.  There needs to be a bit of challenge with all this baking going on, so I usually try one new recipe.  At the moment, I'm tempted by a Lemon Twist from Martha Stewart Living.  There's also the possibility of a ginger cookie from the Gourmet web site, but in the end, my tentative plan is to somehow bring back memories of Sicily and make a panettone.  My Battle Chocolate colleague, Mike G.,  is considering bringing in his own version if we can somehow coordinate each doing our baking this coming weekend.  I'll report back on the results if The Panettone Smackdown actually happens.

Finally, there always has to be a 'problem child'.  Something that ups the I-suffer-for-my-art element of holiday baking.  In my case these recipes range far and wide.  There have been repeated attempts (all failures) to re-create a pate de fruit-like little apple ball my grandmother used to make.  (It never, ever jells.)  Meringues also figure into the high-failure rate category.  Me and egg whites.  Usually a disaster.  This year I'm planning to reprise a high-suffering/low-yield recipe from Celia Barbour.  Her Brown Butter Cookies (an old family recipe from a Swedish grandmother I think) have an intense stress factor -- making brown butter is tricky -- but are insanely good.  By the time you've paired all the halves created in one batch, together, sandwiching some jam between each, you realize, you have, like, twelve cookies.  Total.  The last time I made these, my father reached across the table to grab a second as we all munched on desserts one Christmas Day, and I reflexively swatted his hand away, informing him there was only one per customer. 

The kind of cool part about all of this is the sense of holiday baking camaraderie I feel with everyone out there whose December is similar.  Those of you who begin stockpiling butter early in the month...find yourself toasting almonds at nine o'clock at night on a Tuesday, or wake with a start on the sofa when the alarm goes off at 1 am, telling you to pull the final batch from the oven know of what I speak.

Cheers to you all and happy holidays.

*         *          *

This is really an assembly of two different recipes -- the brownies are from the New York Times article on brownies a few years back and the orange cheesecake topping from the original Gourmet article mentioned above.  Feel free to substitute your own favorite brownie recipe for the base.

Orange Cheesecake Brownies


For cheesecake batter

• an 8-ounce package cream cheese, softened
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon finely grated fresh orange zest
• 1 large egg
• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

For brownie batter:
2 sticks (16 tablespoons) butter, more for pan and parchment paper
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate
4 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup flour



Butter a 13-by-9-inch baking pan and line with buttered parchment paper. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Make cheesecake batter:
In a bowl stir together cream cheese, sugar, and zest with a wooden spoon until smooth. Beat in egg with a fork until blended and stir in flour.

Make brownie batter:
In top of a double boiler set over barely simmering water, or on low power in a microwave, melt butter and chocolate together. Cool slightly. In a large bowl or mixer, whisk eggs. Whisk in salt, sugars and vanilla.

Whisk in chocolate mixture. Fold in flour just until combined. Pour batter into prepared pan. Plop tablespoons of cheesecake filling a couple inches apart across top of the brownie batter.  Using a large fork (I use a serving fork) score the top, mixing and twirling the batters together to make decorative swirls). Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until shiny and beginning to crack on top. Cool in pan on rack.

Yield: 15 large or 24 small brownies.

A Touchy Subject

People are soooooooo funny about stuffing.

There are some people out there who believe the turkey is the focal point of the Thanksgiving meal.  They are so wrong.  It's really all about the stuffing, which is why everyone has an opinion about the stuffing.

Years ago, when we first started hosting the Thanksgiving meal, I was a bit of a, hmmm... (should I say it?) well, a bit of a maverick.  When it came to the side dishes and the stuffing, there were no rules.  It was our kitchen and we could, and did, try anything that sounded good.  The early years included a version using those little bread stuffing cubes that come in a bag.  (Brief shudder of shame.)  We tried a  stuffing with oysters.   (What a waste that was.  You'd never have known that a pint of freshly shucked oysters was even there...it was as if they had evaporated.  Just now when I mentioned it to Steve he said, "What a shame.")  We tried simple, straightforward celery-and-onion based stuffings with no weird dried fruits or nuts.  (Can you say, boring?!)  Cornbread-based stuffings were attempted on numerous occasions, and met with lukewarm praise.  Wild rice was considered (and abandoned) as an idea.  Basically, we were all over the map.

We were living in Massachusetts in the early 90's, and for the better part of a year, there wasn't much I was cooking that didn't originate from the cookbook of a talented caterer and Silver Palate protege,
Sarah Leah Chase.  Based on recipes developed at her Nantucket catering shop, The Open-House Cookbook was my go-to cookbook at the time.  Mainly, summer-y in it's take on cooking, it did have a section called Thanksgiving-by-the-Sea, which was utterly charming.  I decided to give Nantucket Scallop Bisque and the Savory Apricot-Sausage Stuffing a try.

The soup was a smashing success...elegant, creamy and sophisticated.  But, little did I know that with the stuffing, I had just handcuffed myself to a recipe, for-EVER.  Truth be told...it was outstanding.  (But really, any stuffing moistened with Cognac and chicken stock and butter has got to be good, no?)  It was everything you want in a stuffing.  Tangy apricot and pear made for perfect dance partners, waltzing sweetly with moist bread and bits of sausage, all delicately perfumed by fresh rosemary. It was heavenly.  The following year (maybe it was a cornbread year?) the family clamored for "that stuffing from last time".  Sigh...it was like being David Byrne and having people constantly shout "Play Psycho Killer!!" at you.  Stuffing became Groundhog Day.  I rebelled every so often, trying something new, but the family was unforgiving.  "Are you going to make the apricot stuffing?" they'd want to know...weeks before.  And, in a way, they're right.  It's a winner.   I still like to take a break every so often and try a new stuffing.  Keeps them on their toes...and makes the return to The Stuffing all the more sweet.  The nice thing about "our" stuffing?  It's the one thing I can count on to produce complete harmony in the family.  Imagine!  You too can enjoy family harmony during a potentially stressful holiday.
It's all in the stuffing.

(And, yes, the leftovers are phenomenal.  Shown above with good ol' canned cranberry jelly...always good with leftovers, because, well, there are never any leftovers of the regular cranberry sauce I make each year.)

Shopping Notes:
The easiest thing to do with the chestnuts is to get yourself to your nearest Williams-Sonoma, or fancy grocery store and get the chestnuts in a jar.  They come from France and they're perfectly lovely.
Open jar.  Chop.  Done.  I roasted chestnuts for this one year.  Big...HUGE pain.


Savory Apricot-Sausage Stuffing
adapted from The Nantucket Open House Cookbook by Sarah Leah Chase


This recipe is designed to stuff a 22- to 24-pound turkey, with some extra baked in a dish on the side. 

3 cups dried apricots, diced
1/2 cup amaretto liqueur
1/2 cup Cognac or brandy
1 1/2 cups (3, 'yes, that's T-H-R-E-E sticks of unsalted butter)
1 very large yellow onion, chopped
1 bunch scallions, white bulbs and green stalks, sliced
6 ribs celery, coarsely chopped
1 1/2 pounds Pepperidge Farm's herb stuffing crumbs (don't knock it 'til you've tried it...)
1 pound sweet Italian sausage, casings removed
8 ounces bulk pork sausage (aka breakfast sausage)
2 cups chestnuts, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 ripe pear, cored and diced
3 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
3 1/2 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
         (Right.  Go ahead and use your favorite brand out of the can...no worries.)
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1.  Soak the apricots in the amaretto and 1/2 cup of the Cognac for 2 hours.
2.  Melt 3/4 cup of the butter in a large saute pan or skillet over medium-high heat.  Add the onion, scallions and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes.  Transfer to a large mixing bowl and toss with the stuffing crumbs.
3.  Add the Italian and bulk sausage to the same pan and cook, crumbling the meat with a fork or the back of a large spoon, over medium-high heat until the meat is no longer pink.  Add the meat to the stuffing mixture and stir to combine.
4.  Add the chestnuts, pear, and rosemary to the stuffing and toss to combine.  Stir in the apricots with the liquid.
5.  Heat the remaining 3/4 cup butter with the chicken stock in a saucepan just until th ebutter is completely melted.  Pour the butter mixture over the stuffing ixture.  Mix the stuffing well and season to taste with salt and perpper.
6.  Store the stuffing in the refrigerator (overnight) until ready to bake.
7.  Butter a large baking or casserole dish* and spoon the stuffing into the dish.
8.  Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees F. for 40 minutes.

*I do not bake stuffing inside the bird.   Typically for a 10- to 12-pound bird, I halve this recipe and it fits in a large, rectangular glass baking dish.

A Farewell Dinner

Last month Conde Nast announced the closing of several of their publications, one of which was Gourmet, and the news left me genuinely stunned and somehow...bereft.  Sure, I didn't quite know what to make of the magazine over the past several years and I had even let my subscription lapse for a year around the time Ruth Reichl was named editor.  But, don't laugh, I've been reading Gourmet since I was a geeky teenager.

My collection spans decades and was probably the main reason the weight the moving company calculated for our belongings was in tons.  I have issues I nabbed from my mother when I was in college.  I have the years from the late 60s to early 70s which belonged to my husband's grandmother.  Gourmet introduced me to one of my favorite food writers of all time, Laurie Colwin, for which I will be eternally grateful.  It's difficult to put into words the genuine shaping influence it had over the way I think about cooking, eating, travel, entertaining...and about life really.  

How could a publication that had been such an enormous part of my life education simply go away?  It felt wrong.  I needed to mourn.  The answer was to cook...(but of course!) and to cook with people who might somehow understand.    So, the big cartoon light bulb over my head turned on...it was time to "walk the walk".

*     *     *

In recent years, Gourmet had, uh, let's say "evolved".  Into what, I'm not really sure.  Where there used to be highly styled photos of food on tables laden with lavish dishes, silver and flowers in empty dining rooms, or on deserted terraces, there were now attractive models with great clothes enjoying the food and cavorting (does that make me sound Victorian?) in festive, Elle Decor-like settings.  The colors seemed extra-saturated and the photos not too brightly lit.  For the most part, issue after issue, there was rarely anything that I actually wanted to cook.

There were a couple exceptions...one of which was the November 2008 issue.  Last year, having just completed the big move from Chicago, we gave up our usual Thanksgiving hosting duties and instead drove down the coast to Santa Monica to spend the holiday with Steve's brothers.  And, wouldn't you know it?  I bring along my November issue on the trip, and there, in the main menu...the "centerfold" meal, as I like to call it, was something I wanted to cook.  It was a menu featuring twelve dishes that integrated "bold Latino flavors" into a traditional Thanksgiving feast.  Chipotle Meatballs and Mango Pomegranate Guacamole with Plantain Chips kicked things off.  There was a Clementine Jicama Salad... turkey marinated in a chile and spice paste...Corn Bread and Chorizo Stuffing...and the clincher:  a potato gratin layered with roasted poblano peppers.   Mouth watering and mind racing, I was consumed with an almost greedy need...to cook all of it and to taste all of it.  But how?  Ha!  Why not host a Thanksgiving dinner in the off-season, so to speak?  When no one is expecting roast turkey and the trimmings?  I marked the pages and thought "I'll just do Thanksgiving...next July!"  (It's freezing in San Francisco in the summer, so it would have been perfectly fitting.)

July came and went.  August and September too.  Work was busy.  Who had time to figure out how to cook twelve, count 'em, TWELVE, dishes?!  And then.  The News.  As, I said...it was time to "walk the walk."

Luckily, I had shared my wacky idea back in the summer with three very dear friends.  It may even have been on the evening we all went to see Julie & Julia together, and then came back to our place for Seafood Quiche straight from the pages of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  My friends--all supremely talented cooks--were intrigued.  They thought it would be fun.   And, here's the most wonderful part...they wanted to help cook.

The announcement of Gourmet's demise provided a perfect opportunity.  A date was quickly agreed upon, I dug out my post-it covered issue and sent photocopies to the group.

So, a few Saturday's ago, we all convened in my kitchen and put together a feast of epic proportions, that looked just like the pictures!!   It was a magical, delightful way to spend an evening together and I say that as a genuine skeptic when it comes to gourmet clubs and pot-luck dinners.  We created a meal both gorgeous and delicious.  T., who normally creates recipes, brilliant cook and trained chef that she is, followed recipes in this case, with stupendous results.  F.  who insists she is not a dessert-baking type created pies that were phenomenal and picture-perfect.  And, J. whipped up magazine-worthy perfection, effortlessly.  We all cooked in ways and with ingredients we'd never tried before.  In some way, this all made me even more sad that the magazine is no longer around.

But wait a second...
there is that lovely springtime Menu for a Pool Party from April 1972...

Thank you, Gourmet.

*    *    *    *

Here's the full menu (yes--all twelve dishes!) with links to the recipes on Gourmet's web site, which is still up, as well as some cook's notes on each. 

Gourmet Entertains from the November 2008 issue

Chipotle Meatballs

These were incredible.  Zesty and delicious...but then again, I've never met a meatball I didn't like.

Mango Pomegranate Guacamole

Absolutely perfect.  The smoothness of the avocado gets a nice zing from the tartness of the pomegranate.

Plantain Chips

A crowd favorite.  Perfect flavor to balance the guacamole.  Addictive.  And, yes...T. had never bought or cooked with a plantain...ever.

Clementine Jicama Salad

One of the best salads in recent memory.  I will be making this again...and again.  It's a keeper.

Adobo Turkey with Red-Chile Gravy

 I can't believe I made an adobo sauce, from scratch.   I can't believe Steve found both dried guajillo and ancho chiles for me.  The smell of this marinade is transporting and it gave the turkey a gorgeous color.

Corn Bread and Chorizo Stuffing

This was the one dish I somehow wished was better.  The ingredients sounded great to me, but in the end, I think I realized, I'm just not a cornbread stuffing gal.  Maybe it's the texture.

Cranberry Pineapple Salsa

J.'s mega-hit crowd-pleaser.  There was not a speck of it left at the end of the evening.  'Nuf said.

Roasted Chayotes with Garlic

Chayote?  You say...what's a Chayote? Ah haa! Well, here you go... it's kind of like a squash-gourd thing-y.  Relatively simple preparation, but boy oh boy, follow their suggestion and wear gloves when peeling.  F. lost a layer of skin on her hands because she didn't.

Sweet-Potato Coconut Puree

Yet another huge hit from J.  Everyone was crazy about this, and I think I may add it to my Thanksgiving menu in a few weeks.

Poblano Potato Gratin

This was super delicious.  The smokiness of the charred poblanos, the creaminess of the potatoes...heaven.

Lattice Apple Pie with Mexican Brown Sugar

F. insists she's never made a lattice, so clearly she's gifted.  This pie was spectacular.  

Rum Ice Cream

I gave Steve an ice cream maker for his birthday and this was one of his first few tries.  Good times ahead, for sure.

Chocolate Cinnamon Cream Pie

Nothing to say but, yuuuuuuuummmmmmm.

A Real San Francisco Treat

Maybe you remember those awful commercials with the cable car advertising a "San Francisco treat"? Well, wipe the memory of that macaroni-rice-in-a-box product right out of your mind. I'll tell you what a true San Francisco treat is: Dungeness crab.

As luck would have it, I was befriended last year, by a true "local" -- a San Franciscan with a superb palate and a lifetime of cooking and eating in this town. My friend, K., has recommended so many memorable San Francisco dining experiences that I can't believe the extraordinary good fortune that led us to cross paths. Every person new to a city should be so lucky.

With the holidays around the corner, we were discussing traditions one day and she pointed out that Dungeness season is in full swing and one of the things her family likes to do on Christmas Eve is have a cracked crab dinner.

The whole crab thing is a bit subculture if you ask this Midwestern girl. My husband's family is from Oxford, Maryland... a town on the Chesapeake Bay. Now that's blue crab country, and any member of the family will tell you that blue crabs are the best. They'll go on and on about them and how no other crab compares, but I have them to thank for introducing me to one of the greatest things I've ever eaten: soft-shelled crab. So, I just listen and nod when the crab trash talk starts up. (This reminds me...some day, I'll have to post video of a recent soft-shell crab dinner in our kitchen, in which you can clearly hear my voice saying "Now, stop that!" as I use a wooden spoon to smack at a still-live-and-kickin' crab objecting to being thrown in a hot pan of sizzling butter.)

Now that we are on the West Coast, it seemed appropriate to give Dungeness a try. So one evening a couple days before Christmas, K. and I stopped and picked up a trio of crabs. The fish market guy had them cooked and he prepared them for us by doing most of the cracking with a big mallet.



According to K. a cracked crab feast should include some fine sourdough bread (check!), your choice of melted butter or mayonnaise-worcestershire sauce dip (check!), and a salad...(hmmm, a salad, she says.) There was a salad K. had once at one of our most beloved city dining establishments--Delfina, and she suggested we recreate it, as a starter, for our dinner. We'd follow it with the giant platter of crab pieces for dipping.


The Salad is similar to one I came across in The Zuni Cafe Cookbook (yet another favorite restaurant here) and so using that for guidance, and based on what we found in the produce section, we came up with a gorgeous salad--a bed of escarole, mixed with ruby grapefruit chunks, slices of avocado and a scattering of chives, tossed with a champagne vinaigrette--which beautifully showcased the delicate, sweet "Dungie". It was a glorious combination.

My brother-in-law joined us for dinner that night and he shook his head as he quietly ate the Dungeness. "It's pretty good".
K. looked over at my husband who set his fork down and announced, "it's not good... it's fantastic! I'm converted! Here's to Dungie!"
The Local beamed and picked up her glass -- "cheers!"


Crab Salad
(serves 4)

meat from 1 Dungeness crab, shelled * (They're big, people! No worries...one will do nicely for a salad for four)
1 ruby grapefruit, supremed and then cut into chunks
1 avocado, sliced
1 handful of chives, minced
1 head escarole, or butter lettuce

Champagne Vinaigrette
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil*
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
3-4 teaspoons Champagne vinegar
salt and white pepper to taste
1 small shallot, finely minced

*I had some lemon olive oil from a local producer here in California, so I used 1 tablespoon of the lemon olive oil and 3 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil.

Prepare the vinaigrette:
Mix mustard, vinegar, shallot and salt together.
Whisk in oil.
Taste for and adjust seasoning and add white pepper to taste.

Dress the crab with several tablespoons of vinaigrette.

Arrange on plates: a handful of escarole, some grapefruit chunks, avocado slices and top with several spoonfuls of crab.

Drizzle salad with vinaigrette and sprinkle with chives.