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.

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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.

Grills Just Wanna Have Fun

There is something about cooking outdoors...over open flames. For me, just about year 'round, there's a kind of primeval yearning to sear food over hot coals.
I'm filled with envy when I watch Jamie Oliver throw things into his outdoor wood-burning oven and I can recall years of bitterness over not having access to a grill when we lived in a pre-war apartment building in Chicago with no outdoor space.
That meant summer holidays at our place were celebrated with 'urban' barbecue-- burgers under the broiler, or on a ridged, cast iron pan... and a kitchen hallway smoke detector perpetually disconnected.

The move to San Francisco changed all that. The apartment we moved into came with a gas grill on the deck and a small brick terrace...perfect for a charcoal grill. Now, I'm not going to get into a big debate between gas and charcoal, but just know that we never let go of our chimney starter -- a relic of the years in Boston where we had outdoor space for a charcoal grill. The chimney starter accompanied us from apartment to apartment, and even cross-country, with the hope that some day we would find a place to have a grill.

A couple weeks ago, Steve found a neighborhood garage sale and, wouldn't you know it... a barely used Weber kettle grill. $25 later we were lugging it into the back patio, giggling like two teenagers and plotting our first meal. (Shrimp kabobs.)

So, when my friend, K., said it was time to get together for one of our Sunday evening cook-a-thons you know it was going to be All About The Grill.

We quickly decided the centerpiece of the meal was going to be some kind of beef.

Why?

Because we were both craving chimichurri! The incredibly delicious and meant-for-grilled-meats condiment hailing from Argentina.

Two giant t-bones (grass-fed, of course...this is San Francisco!) were our choice, and we decided to go with The Zuni Cafe Cookbook's version of chimichurri. Then, the discussion turned to what else we could throw on the grill.

Asparagus! Corn on the cob! Large, green chile peppers!

Then K. suggested peaches. We agreed to recreate a salad she had tried at some restaurant in the Marina. These recreations of something K. has had in a restaurant seem to serve us well.

The ingredients for the salad:

Peaches, grilled, of course, and then stuffed with goat cheese or gorgonzola (my suggestion)

Spring onions, grilled, natch

Bresaola, (Note: Bresaola is beef and has a very delicate flavor--almost too delicate for this salad, I think. We both agreed -- next time, go with Serrano for that extra kick of salty, porky deliciousness.)

All, draped over a bed of greens tossed with a vinaigrette.

Wine was poured. Ingredients prepped. The chimichurri prepared.

We stood in the dwindling end-of-day light, tending the various fruits and vegetables arrayed on the grill. Smoke swirled around us and and the smell of grilling peaches was heavenly.

We raised our glasses. A toast... To Grilling!

A note about chimichurri.

I used to follow a recipe found on Epicurious, which was mainly parsley, very green and, in retrospect, a bit boring.

The recipe we used was apparently shared with Judy Rodgers by two chefs from Argentina who spent some time cooking in the Zuni kitchen in the late 90's. It is fantastic and there's no going back.

This chimichurri uses a mix of chopped fresh herbs and the key is warming the olive oil so that when the fresh herbs are added they create a very satisfying sizzle as they hit the oil. The addition of a jalapeno, charred over an open flame is so much better, to me, than the typical red pepper flakes. The other important ingredient is paprika -- it gives the sauce a sultry, smoky finish that is addictive.

Make this sauce and you will be finding any excuse you can to throw some meat on the grill.

It is, in a word...amazing.

Connie & Maryanna's Chimichurri

adapted from The Zuni Cafe Cookbook by Judy Rodgers

makes about 1 1/4 cups -- keeps well for weeks, refrigerated and improves with time

1 jalapeno, preferably red (we used green)

2 teaspoons tightly packed fresh oregano leaves

2 teaspoons tightly packed fresh thyme leaves

1 teaspoon tightly packed fresh rosemary leaves

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon sweet paprika

1 tablespoon tightly packed, coarsely shopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 or 2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic

2 bay leaves, crumbled

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar--the good stuff

About 1/2 teaspoon salt

Freshly cracked black pepper, to taste

Char the jalapeno, either directly over a gas burner, or charcoal fire, or under a broiler

until the pepper is freckled with black and smells good

When the pepper has cooled slightly, halve, seed and mince it. Don't rub off the tasty black blisters -- include them in the chimichurri.

Place the oregano, thyme and rosemary in a mortar and pound lightly. (K. and I decided to pound, AND do a little mincing, to vary up the texture. It just looked a little too 'leafy' after just pounding.)

Warm the oil in a small saucepan until it is hot to the touch. Pull from the heat and stir in the herbs, plus all the remaining ingredients, including the jalapeno -- don't forget the paprika!

(If making the chimichurri more than a few hours in advance, wait to add the parsley until you are about to use it.) Taste. Leave to infuse for at least 1 hour at room temperature before serving.

Burger Bonanza

Ohh, there's nothing as American as a burger...grilled over charcoal...on a warm summer day. And since Fourth of July is right around the corner, I think I'll share my two, all-time-favorite recipes for the best 'weird' burgers you'll ever make. Go ahead and mock me -- these are not the standard, good ol' ground chuck burgers you salt and pepper, shape into patties and throw on a grill. I'll admit it. Yuppie burgers. Quirky burgers. Call them whatever you like. They are simply DELICIOUS and you're going to love them.

*The photo above is a burger from a local institution--Taylor's Refresher. If you can't make your own, this is the next best thing.

First up, we have the finest turkey burgers known to man. Trust me on this. I have been making these since my days at Oprah, where Art Smith taught me how to make them early one morning, in a tent we had set up out front of our studio to do a Summer Entertaining show. Art says the key to keeping a turkey (or ground chicken) burger moist and flavorful is in the veg and the man knows what he is talking about. The main trick here is a beautiful confetti of finely chopped vegetables--mushrooms, tomato, shredded carrot, etc...) that create the most deliciously moist and flavorful turkey burger you'll ever come across. Some breadcrumbs in the mix help keep the juices in. Top it with some peppery arugula, a nice cabbage slaw and/or melt a little blue cheese on these burgers and you're in business.

Next, is a recipe I am now officially addicted to -- lamb burgers.

My dear friend, K, gave me my current most favorite cookbook--Big Small Plates--by SF area chef, Cindy Pawlcyn as a birthday gift last year. It's one of those beautiful books where you flip through the recipes, drooling and planning to make everything. K and I had a Sunday cooking date last fall, where we chose several recipes to make from the book and then had a fun evening of cooking together, chatting and drinking wine before sitting down to an extraordinary feast. The lamb burgers from that night were my absolute favorite and I've been making them ever since. They are so wonderfully bright tasting with some Asian ingredients that give them a light, almost exotic quality. Spring them on any one you know that may not be a fan of lamb -- and they will be converted, I guarantee it. The burgers are accompanied by a refreshing herb salad, drizzled with a vibrant tamarind vinaigrette. It's a fantastic combination unlike any I have ever come across. I serve the burgers on top of the herb salad--hold the bun--and toast up some store-bought naan on the side.

The burger -- it can be anything you want it to be. So, American, isn't it?

NOTES:

1. I would recommend grilling over charcoal, but hey, I spent the past ten years living in an apartment with no outdoor space, so broiling is okay too, or a ridged, cast iron pan accompanied by an extremely powerful exhaust fan. If no exhaust fan, disconnect those smoke detectors and open up the windows!

2. All burgers benefit from a 'rest' -- a couple hours in the fridge before cooking for the flavors to meld.

Grilled Turkey (or Chicken) Burgers

adapted from Art Smith

Makes 6 servings

1 small red onion (or half a large red onion), finely chopped

1/2 small red bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped

4 oz white mushrooms, finely chopped

1 medium carrot, peeled and coarsely shredded

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

1 ripe plum tomato or a handful of cherry tomatoes, finely chopped

1/4 cup seasoned dried breadcrumbs

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1 large egg, beaten

1 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 pounds ground chicken or turkey

For serving:

6 soft hamburger buns

blue cheese or Swiss cheese, optional

arugula leaves

avocado slices

Spray a large, non-stick skillet with oil, or heat a teaspoon of olive oil,, and heat over medium-high heat. Add onion, red pepper and mushrooms and cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables soften, about 3 minutes. Add the carrot and garlic and stir, uncovered for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and cook just until heated through, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl and cool completely.

Add the breadcrumbs, cheese, egg, salt and pepper and mix well. Add the ground chicken or turkey and mix just until combined. (Do not overwork the mix.) Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 4 hours.

Meanwhile, build a charcoal fire in an outdoor grill and let coals burn down until medium hot, or preheat a gas grill on high, and then turn to medium. The key is not to grill at super high heat.

Shape the chicken/turkey mixture into six 4-inch wide patties. Lightly oil the grill. Grill the burgers, turning once, just until they feel firm when pressed in the centers, about 12 minutes.

Add cheese, if you're into that, for last minute or two of cooking.

Spicy Lamb Burgers with Vietnamese Herb Salad and Tamarind Vinaigrette

adapted from Cindy Pawlcyn's Big Small Plates

Serves 6

NOTE:

Tamarind paste and oyster sauce are some of those interesting ingredients one can easily find in Asian markets, but are more and more commonly available in the ethnic food section of certain larger grocery stores. I've had various adventures searching for tamarind paste and let me just advise you not to buy the tamarind pods that come in a brick -- keep looking until you find the paste. You'll be glad you did.

Tamarind Vinaigrette

4 tablespoons brown sugar

3 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons tamarind paste

1 tablespoon soy sauce

6 tablespoons olive oil

Lamb Burgers

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 1/2 tablespoons oyster sauce

1/2 Serrano or jalapeno chile, seeded and minced (and you know the drill...where gloves or make some makeshift ones like I do, with a small plastic baggie, or go barehanded and DO NOT rub your eyes right after chopping)

2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint leaves

1 1/2 tablespoons minced cilantro leaves

1/2 sweet onion, minced

juice of 1/2 lime

1 pound ground lamb

Vietnamese Herb Salad

2 scallions, white and light green parts only, cut into 1 1/2 inch julienne ( a pain, I know, but it looks really nice)

2 Thai or Serrano chiles, seeded and julienned

1/2 bunch basil, any kind, small leaves only

1/4 bunch cilantro, leaves only

1/4 bunch mint, small leaves only

1/2 bunch chives, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

1 bunch watercress, leaves only, or arugula

To make the vinaigrette:

combine the sugar and water in a small saute pan. cook over medium heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Add the tamarind and soy sauce, and stir until smooth. Remove from heat and whisk in the olive oil. Reserve until needed.

To make the lamb burgers:

First combine the garlic, oyster sauce, chile, mint, cilantro onion and lime juice in a large bowl and mix well. Then mix in the ground lamb meat, making sure everything is well combined. Divide the mixture into 6 equal parts, or 12 if you want to make mini patties. Moisten your hands with water before forming the patties--makes things easier. Shape the patties and make them flat, but not too thin. You don't want them to over cook before they have a chance to caramelize on the outside. Regular patties should be 2 to 3 inches in diameter.

Cook the burgers about 2 minutes per side for medium. combine all the ingredients for the salad and toss it with just enough of the vinaigrette to coat. Serve the dish with the salad piled on a platter and the lamb burgers placed on top, with an extra drizzle of vinaigrette over all.

Consider the Oyster

No doubt...everything that needs to be said about The Oyster, has been said, and probably more eloquently, more poetically and with more whimsy than what I am about to share.

I am a late-bloomer in many ways and eating oysters is no exception. I don’t recall having anything to do with oysters as a child. (I mean really. What child would?!) As an adult I occasionally ate them, but always cooked. There was an oyster stuffing we tried one year at Thanksgiving, but it seemed a bit disappointing…the oysters lost and overwhelmed by the rest of the stuffing ingredients. I did enjoy them fried, in a Po’ Boy sandwich, on a trip to
New Orleans. Then – again in New Orleans – a rather convincing case for eating oysters raw was made at a wedding we attended.
Unlike any other wedding I’d ever been to, there were no assigned tables…no place cards…no torturous imprisonment next to someone’s college roommate from Michigan. Joy!
At this wedding, one could roam among the elegant buffets serving oysters and other New Orleans specialties…fill up a plate, and then sit, or stand, wherever one liked. It was heaven. My mother seemed miffed. My father and I were thrilled!
The oyster possibilities seemed endless…every possible way to eat oysters known to man was featured, including the very delicious, Oysters Rockefeller.

On occasional wintertime trips to Paris over the years I became obsessed with the extravagant, intimidating Plateau de Fruits de Mer (translation: platter of fruits of the sea) served in the winter months in most of the Parisian brasseries. You'd see them everywhere... at the center of a table among a group of convivial friends, chattering away, and digging in to three-tiers of plates filled with ice and shellfish stacked high. I was enthralled. Intrigued. It all looked so glamorous …a raw oyster, plucked from a glistening plate of ice and lightly sprinkled with lemon juice, followed by a sip of white wine...it was so chic, in a way.

So, you see, I've been converted.



That said, I recently dragged my husband, and the dog, on an oyster field trip disguised as a visit to the beach. (You can do this sort of thing here in Northern California.) A quick, yet spectacular, one-hour drive north of San Francisco delivers you to the Point Reyes National Seashore, which is breathtakingly beautiful, and while I could get carried away here about the natural beauty, I know you're thinking, yes, ahem, but what about those OYSTERS?? Yes, right...there is an area near Point Reyes called Tomales Bay...a narrow slip of salt water, sheltered from the currents of the Pacific (oysters like their peace and quiet).





My mission was a visit to Hog Island Oyster Company, which was started by three former marine biologists who believed in sustainable aquaculture. Their Kumamoto is my favorite -- petite, creamy, delectable and on the menu at many restaurants here in San Francisco.

We brought along a cooler filled with ice for the two bags of oysters we bought right there by the bay. In back, a large patio was filled with happy people eating their oysters--you can reserve a picnic table in advance at Hog Island. I even saw several communal barbecue grills available if you wanted to grill up a dozen right there.



Just a short while later we were settled in at our kitchen counter with a bottle of wine, a baguette, our beautiful oysters and a bottle opener (the ideal tool for shucking, according to Julia Child). Simple is key with oysters--my husband prefers a squirt of lemon and I like a traditional Mignonette Sauce of vinegar, shallots, a pinch of sugar and black pepper. We tried two varieties--Kumamoto, and the larger Sweetwater--both were wonderful.



So, no poetry, or witty quotes...all I can say is when you stand at your kitchen counter, eating a freshly shucked oyster, just hours out of the water…slurping the briny goodness from the shell, and then taking a dreamy sip from a glass of crisp, tangy Chablis there’s…well, a bit of an epiphany. A feeling of well-being washes over you…here is simplicity itself, and it is stunning.


Mignonette Sauce
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa by Ina Garten
2 shallots, minced
3/4 cup good Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon chopped fresh green herbs such as parsley, dill, and/or chives

Place the shallots, vinegar, and sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Cook uncovered for 1 minute. Remove from the heat and allow to cool to room temperature. Add the pepper and herbs and serve with the raw oysters.
Yield: 1/2 cup

Thanksgiving Traditions

The beauty of Thanksgiving is how many different ways one can choose to celebrate a glorious concept – gratitude -- with food. Everyone has traditions and favorites. My friend, Didier, is making beef tenderloin for his guests. Steve’s Louisiana-born boss will be deep-frying his family’s turkey. Friends on the East Coast will be firing up their grill for the bird. We’re going the standard oven roasting route. There’s something I love about the fragrance of a roasting turkey wafting through the apartment. I will tell you that years ago, we cooked two turkeys – one on the grill and one in the oven, and the grilled bird was picked clean at the end of dinner, while there were plenty of leftovers from the oven version.

Sides are what makes the meal, in my book, and the week before Thanksgiving, I have my nose buried in “research”: back issues of Gourmet, Cook’s Illustrated and, yes, Martha Stewart Living to see if there’s anything new to put in the rotation. I have a tried and true stuffing recipe, which I stray from every so often, much to the dismay of family and friends. There was the sad oyster stuffing experiment, one year. (Hmm, stuffing with bits of chewy something…the oysters, lost and overwhelmed by bread. Not good.) Then a cornbread stuffing another year.... (Too bland and well, kind of Puritan in style.) So, I stick with a Savory Apricot-Sausage stuffing cobbled together from two different recipes…it’s perfect according to my loved ones.



The one thing everyone seems to crave, and the item that is simply delightful to have around to accompany leftovers is Golden Pear Chutney. Years ago, Jeffrey Steingarten published a recipe in Vogue after a visit to Charleston with John Martin Taylor, a talented local cook. It prompted me to buy Taylor’s book, Hoppin' John's Lowcountry Cooking, and fed a fascination I’ve had with all types of Southern cooking. About the chutney, Taylor writes, “Lowcountry cooking is full of ideas that seem foreign to outsiders.” To this outsider, the chutney is the perfect companion to roast turkey. The tang of crystallized ginger is what I think gives a warm, mysterious sort of depth to this sweet and spicy relish and served with warm, or cold, turkey, it is out of this world. He recommends sealing the chutney in sterilized jars, etc.., which I did one year when I was giving pints of chutney as Christmas gifts, but for Thanksgiving I just put it in a large mason jar and keep it in the fridge, where it keeps perfectly well for at least a week.



It’s funny…the chutney has become a Thanksgiving tradition at our house, and more often than not, in the week or so before…my mother will call and ask me, a worried tone in her voice, “did you make the chutney?”
Yes, Mom, I made the chutney.

Happy Thanksgiving.



Golden Pear Chutney
adapted from Hoppin' John's Lowcountry Cooking

NOTE: I tend to use light brown sugar most of the time, and the resulting chutney is a gorgeous amber hue. This year I used dark brown sugar instead and the color is a deep golden mahogany. I can't detect any difference in flavor.

makes about 5 pints

3 pounds hard, underripe pears, peeled, seeded, and chopped (about 6 cups)
3 cups light or dark brown sugar
3 cups apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon mustard seeds
2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
1/4 pound crystallized ginger, chopped (about 2/3 cup)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon Quatre-Epices (oooh, that sounds so Southern!)
(I used a pinch of each of the following: white pepper, grated nutmeg, ground cloves, ground cinnamon and ground ginger)
1 cup dark raisins
1 cup light, golden raisins
2 cups chopped Vidalia, or other sweet onion
1 lemon, peeled and thinly sliced

Cook the pears in a large, non-reactive pot, in water to cover until they are medium-soft. (They should still have some firmness when you slip a knife through. Don't overcook, otherwise they'll fall apart and turn into mush further along in the cooking.)
Strain out the pears and toss in a large bowl with remaining ingredients.
Boil the cooking water down until thick -- about 20 to 30 minutes.
Return pear mixture to the pot with syrupy water and cook for about 30 minutes, or until the raisins are softened and the onions are transparent. You want the chutney to have a nice, thick consistency.

Let cool and then store in a mason jar or glass bowl with a lid in the refrigerator. Keeps at least a week.
Also can be transferred to sterilized jars and sealed; process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.