Melissa Clark's Blog, page 4

Sunday Soups: A Comforting Bowl of Potato Leek Creaminess

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As the weather finally turns cold and blustery in a way that seems to want to stick around for the rest of the winter (farewell,  60 degree days, see you in March), soup season officially begins.

For our family, Sunday is the perfect soup day. One reason is that after restocking the fridge at the farmers market on Saturday, on Sunday, I try to use up a lot of stuff left over from the week before. Clean-the-fridge soup is definitely the silent subtitle of every single Sunday soup recipe I'll be posting, which I hope will give you perfect freedom to use that wilted stalk of celery and those soft and wizened carrots. You can bet I will be doing the same.

Another reason I like to make soup on Sunday is that by the time weekend wanes, I'm exhausted from all the running around family time, and seeing friends time, and weekend projects time and whatever else it is we pack into those two hectic days. By Sunday, I just want quiet, easy, soothing food that warms my bones and pats me on the cheek in a there-there kind of way. Soup does this.

Anyway in thinking about all of this, I decided to launch a weekly blog post dedicated to whatever soup I made on Sunday. This means I will be planning on posting a soup recipe every week, all winter long. And if you feel like sharing, I'd love to know what soup you made this week too, if any.

Then when the temperature rises and the lettuces and ramps and asparagus starts to emerge, I'll put away my soup pot and kick off a Sunday Salads series or something like that. Ah, the fleeting, bittersweetness of seasonal cooking. Here today, gone tomorrow.

With no further ado, here is my recipe for Potato Leek Soup to get things going.  It's one of the most satisfying and simplest soup recipes imaginable, calling for just three basic ingredients—potatoes, leeks, and good stock.  Okay, no…four in fact, because I like to use a generous amount of butter when I sauté the leeks.  I've been known to use a whole stick of good butter (you can use much less if you want), but the real trick to spectular potato leek soup is to brown the heck out of the leeks.  It's ok if there are still some pretty, light green bits here and there, but golden leeks will contribute beautiful depth and layers of flavor to an otherwise uncomplicated soup. If you don't take the time to do this (and I'm talking about a solid 6 mintues), you risk blah soup, and there's really no need in your life for blah soup, right?

The last time I made this Potato Leek Soup I happened to have leftover turkey stock from Thanksgiving, but any variety of quality stock will do. Or use water and just add plenty of salt and a bay leaf to the pot (and lots of butter, you'll need it). I'll occasionally throw in a stray parsnip, celery root, or turnip into the mix (remember, it's really clean-out-the fridge soup).  So feel free to do the same. I also love to add a really substantial amount of freshly ground black pepper—against the starchy richness it packs a welcome wallop. 

Then, as you can see in the photo, I finish the soup with a drizzle of olive oil and some moist flaky red pepper, in this case Turkish red pepper. You can skip it, or use flaky sea salt or crushed red pepper flakes instead. Or if you want to get fancy, snip some chives on the top and garnish the soup with a little dollop of creme fraiche. Then you will have achieved dinner party soup.

Also of note: I puree my soup with an immersion blender. Sometimes I strive for something perfectly smooth and velvety. Sometimes I leave lots of chunks. The choice is yours.

Potato Leek Soup

Serves 4 to 6

4 medium leeks or 2 giant ones

At least 2 tablespoons butter, sometimes I use up to 8, olive oil works too

Salt and pepper

4 large yukon gold potatoes, peeled or not

1 quart stock or water (add a bay leaf if you're using water, don't forget to remove it before pureeing)

Good olive oil and Turkish or crushed red pepper for finishing if you like

 

1. Clean the leeks by chopping off the dark green stems (leave the white and an inch or two of the light green). Split the leeks down the center vertically to expose all the soil trapped in the layers. Rinse well under running water. Thinly slice the leeks discarding the hairy root.

2. In a soup pot, melt the butter or heat the oil. Add the leeks and saute until golden brown all over, about 6 to 8 minutes.

3. While the leeks are cooking, slice up the potatoes.

4. Season leeks with a good pinch of salt and some pepper and add the potato slices. Add the stock or water. It should cover the veggies by at least 1/2-inch. If not, add more water. Bring to a simmer and partially cover the pot. When the potatoes are tender, about 20 to 30 minutes later, puree the soup.  If it's too thick, thin it down with water or stock or cream. Taste and add more salt and pepper. If the soup tastes bland because you used water or dull stock, you can perk it up by adding some grated parmesan cheese, or some soy sauce, or a squeeze of lemon juice, or all of the above.

5. Serve plain or garnished with olive oil and red pepper.

Pumpkin Pie with Browned Butter & Apple Cider

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Maybe I should have waited until next Thanksgiving to share this—maybe Pumpkin Pie fatigue has set in.  But not for me.  I just love the smooth, custardy richness of good pumpkin pies, and I know  lots of people out there like to serve them all through the holiday season (right?). 

Although I bake up a pumpkin pie every year for Thanksgiving, I never make the same recipe twice. It's biologically impossible. I'd implode if I tried. Plus, being the self-proclaimed pie obsessive that I am, I'm all too happy to play with the basic recipe, tweaking it a little here and there.

The last few years I've been trying to make a pie that my milk-and-cream-avoiding husband Daniel can eat (most pumpkin pies are heavy on the milk and/or cream). Last year I used coconut milk and chai-type spices and it was wonderful. But this year I decided to go in another direction and just elimate all the cream entirely. Instead, I substituted a little Calvados (apple brandy) and a generous amount of brown butter—two ingredients that simply scream festive, early winter goodness.  In place of the Calvados, you could also use some fresh apple cider.  But Calvados  is of course apple cider amplified; in this recipe it provides a little moisture, as well as a richly distilled and pleasantly boozy apple kick.  And then there's the butter.  (Thank goodness Daniel can eat butter.)  Who doesn't love the gorgeous, nutty flavor of browned butter?  Is there anything better? If you know me, you know that I use it often, in everything from applesauce to rhubarb compote to shortbread cookies.

As the foundation of the pie, I start out with my simple homemade pie crust.  It's so easy and produces such perfect flakiness, it's actually the one recipe I don't mess with, but use as is.  Then, much like my Sweet Potato Ginger Custard Pie, you simply bake the pie until most of the custard has set but still has the suggestion of a little jiggle in the center.  There is nothing wrong with a little jiggle.  And then you'll know it's baked just right.

 

Pumpkin Pie with Browned Butter and Cider

 

For the pie crust:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

10 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

2 to 5 tablespoons ice water

For the filling:

1 1/2 cups pumpkin puree (homemade or canned, see note)

1 stick butter

5 eggs

1/4 cup apple cider (or 2 tablespoons calvados)

1 tablespoon grated fresh gingerroot

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

Pinch of ground cloves

Pinch of ground mace

1.  To make the crust, in a food processor, briefly pulse together the flour and salt.  Add the butter and pulse until the mixture forms lima bean-size pieces (three to five 1-second pulses).  Ad ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, and pulse until the mixture is just moist enough to hold together.  Form the dough into a ball, wrap with plastic and flatten into a disc.  Refrigerate at least 1 hour before rolling out.

2.  On a lightly floured surface, roll out the piecrust to a 12-inch circle.  Transfer the crust to a 9-inch pie plate.  Fold over any excess dough, then crimp as decoratively as you can manage. 

3.  Prick the crust all over with a fork.  Freeze the crust for 15 minutes or refrigerate for 30 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 400°F.  Cover the pie with aluminum foil and fill with pie weights (you can us pennies, rice, or dried beans for this; I use pennies).  Bake for 20 minutes; remove the foil and weights and bake until golden, about 5 to 10 minutes more.  Cool on a rack until needed. 

4.  For the filling, pre-heat oven to  325ºF.  In a large skillet, melt the stick of butter over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and cook until the frothy white milk solids sink to the bottom of the pan and turn a fragrant, nutty brown, 5 to 7 minutes. Brown butter can burn quickly, so watch it carefully. Another tip: when the frantic sound of bubbling begins to die down, that is when you know your brown butter is almost ready, so use your ears as well as your eyes and nose for this one.

5.  In a food processor, combine the pumkpin puree, browned butter and all remaining filling ingredients and run the machine until everything is smooth and incorpated.

6.  Spoon filling into pie crust and spread until flat and even.  Place pie on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the custard is mostly firm and set but jiggles slightly when moved, 45 to 55 minutes.  Let cool to room temperature and serve with fresh whipped cream.

Kitchen Hip Tip: To Quickly Warm Up Eggs for Baking, Soak in Warm Water

I don't know about you, but I'm getting ready for holiday baking.  Every year I look forward to warm goodies coming out of my oven, and to bake quick breads, cookies, and/or cakes successfully, you need to do a little planning.  Aside from getting all your ingredients together and measured, you need to make sure things are the right temperature—especially softened butter and room-temperature eggs. 

Eggs are finicky and marvelous little miracles; properly handled, they can add aerated volume, act as an emulsifier to bind ingredients together, or simply impart some yolk-y richness. But behind that demure and charming oval shell lies a veritable chemistry lab.  I'll spare you (and myself) all the bits about albumen, long-chain amino acids, electrostatic forces, and the all-towering Maillard reaction.  Just know that there's a lot going on in that deceptively humble egg; respect its many powers. 

For baking however, at least part of what you need to know is pretty simple. Make sure to use them at room-temperature.  They beat up lighter, fluffier, and mix better with your other ingredients. Cold eggs will cool your butter and make it harder to beat into smooth, supple submission.

Of course remembering to pull the eggs from the fridge an hour or two ahead is fine and easy - if you have the foresight to plan your baking ahead. But what if you want to indulge in, say, some spontaneous, 10 pm post child bedtime brownie baking? Well, then you don't have an hour to wait for your eggs to come up to temperature. (At least I don't if I want to be awake for said baking binge.)

Do not, as I have done, try just putting your eggs on the stovetop while the oven preheats. You will  cook the whites while the yolks still remains cold. No good. I know from experience.

Instead, to bring straight-from-the-fridge eggs to a nice, ambient temperature quickly, submerge them in a bath of warm (not hot) tap water for about 15 minutes.  They'll warm up in a flash and you'll wind up with perfectly tempered, affable eggs ready and willing to do your bidding.  And if your bidding happens to be an impulsive batch of gooey, homemade brownies, try these from my book In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite. You won't regret it!

Kate's Impossibly Fudgy Brownies with Chili and Sea Salt

Time: 45 minutes

 

2 sticks plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon cocoa powder

2 1/2 cups sugar

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

3 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Maldon salt, for sprinkling

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350° F. Line a rimmed 9 by 13-inch baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a microwave or in the top bowl of a double boiler, melt together the butter and chopped chocolate, stirring until smooth. Meanwhile, combine the flour, kosher salt, and cayenne in a medium bowl.

3. Transfer the chocolate mixture to a large mixing bowl and whisk in the cocoa powder and sugar. Add the eggs and vanilla; whisk until smooth.

4. Fold in the dry ingredients and continue folding until no lumps remain.

5. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the edges just begin to pull away from the sides of the pan and a tester inserted into the middle of the brownie comes out clean.

6. Allow the brownie to cool completely in the pan before cutting into 2 by 2-inch squares.

Makes 24 (2-inch) squares

Spiced Maple Pecan Pie with Star Anise Video on Chow.com

I shot this video for Spiced Maple Pecan Pie with Star Anise when I was in SF last month and had an absolute blast doing it. There were a few mishaps along the way (as in, I had to leave before the pie was finished baking and I burned the nuts and had to redo them), but you'd never know it from this slick and pretty funny video (if I may say so myself). You'll also find the recipe - and it's a keeper: rich and nutty, layered with warm spices and  maple syrup buttery-ness.  You may even find yourself making this pie in February. After all pecans pie tastes good all year long.

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Braised Agrodolce Chestnuts with Pears and Bacon

 

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The holidays herald many things, including chestnut season. And I love the romance of roasting them by an open fire (or, you know, in the oven) and then peeling them while they are still warm and toasty, savoring the crisp, fresh, sweet nut with a mug of mulled wine, cue the Nat King Cole. 

But here's what I don't love: Having to peel pounds of them to use in a stuffing or other recipe. So usually, despite my father's brilliant method for peeling chestnuts efficiently, I cop out and buy a jar of roasted peeled nuts instead. And while they are okay in terms of flavor, the texture is shot. Jarred peeled nuts have lost all their crispness and are soggy and mushy - perfeclty fine for making a creamy chestnut tart (I love this recipe) but not so hot when you want some crunch.

But this autumn, I learned something new about chestnuts after I was sent some dried specimens from a lovely Oregon orchard called Ladd Hill. I was suspicious at first.  I'd never used dried chestnuts before because the ones I'd always seen where broken in pieces with a gray cast - they looked more like stones than nuts. But these were different - big, beige and handsome, they looked like actual chestnuts out of the shell, except they were hard instead of soft.

I just followed the package instructions to reconstitute them:  cover dried chestnuts with water in a pan, bring to a boil and then simmer for five minutes, and then let them stand for an hour.  Then simply drain them and they're ready to be incorporated into any recipe that calls for chestnuts. 

Easy! And, you know what? Good! Much better  than jarred chestnuts; they were a bit sweeter and a bit texturally toothier.  They worked beautifully in this recipe for a great Thanksgiving side—Braised Agrodolce (Italian for "sweet and sour") Chestnuts, with delicate pears and savory bacon (home cured by the wonderful Larry Liang, who schlepped me pounds of it when he came to NYC for a visit, thanks Larry!). Use the pepperiest bacon you can find, unless you happen to know Larry and he's willing to give you some of his.

This dish is perfect with turkey, but don't ditch it after TG is over. Dried chestnuts store really well, so keep this recipe on hand to pull out all winter long. I'll bet it would be fantastic with other roasted meats or fowl - especially duck or roast lamb or beef. Saute some kale or chard on the side and you've got a princely meal.

Dried chestnuts are truly something to be thankful for.

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Agrodolce Chestnut Compote with Pears and Bacon

Makes 6 to 8 servings

 3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup dried chestnuts, reconstituted, or 1 3/4 cup fresh, shelled chestnuts

1 large yellow onion, peeled, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise

1 bay leaf

1 thyme sprig

1/3 cup port wine

3 firm Bosc pears, peeled

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more, to taste

3 ounces bacon, cut into 1/2-inch chunks

2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

 

1. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, melt 2 tablespoons butter. Add the chestnuts and cook until golden, about 5 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to a plate.

2. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon butter to the pan. Add the onion, bay leaf, and thyme. Cook, stirring, until onions are golden brown and tender, about 15 minutes.

3. Return the chestnuts to the pan. Add the port and cook 1 minute. Stir in the pears, salt, and 1/2 cup water. Cover pan, reduce heat to medium, and simmer mixture gently until pears are tender and slightly floppy, about 15 minutes.

4. While the pears cook, brown the bacon in a separate skillet over medium heat.

5. When the pears are cooked through, uncover the pan and stir in the bacon and its fat, the vinegar, and the black pepper. Cook 1 minute; serve warm.

 

 

Sweet Potato Ginger Custard Pie

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Here in the North East, pumpkin pie is the customary Thanksgiving final course.  But on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line, sweet potato pies are the traditional harvest dessert.  There's nothing quite like a made-from-scratch pie, but unlike trying to wrangle an unwieldy pumpkin, sweet potatoes are amiable and easy to handle.  Fresh pumpkins can vary pretty wildly in terms of their sugar content and texture, but sweet potatoes (which, like pumpkins, are totally in season right now) will consistently yield smooth, creamy sweetness (perhaps thanks in part to their starch content).  A sweet potato pie is truly a kissin' cousin to a pumpkin pie with it's earthy richness, caramel-y flavors, and familiar underpinnings of warm spices.  So if a sweet potato pie satisfies all the pre-requisites of a Thanksgiving dessert, why not ditch the canned pumpkin and go for a fully fresh, wholly home-made, authentically autumnal treat?  Just don't let your Yankee Uncle know. 

 

Sweet Potato Ginger Custard Pie

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Makes one 9 inch pie

Serves 8

 

For the pie crust:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

10 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

2 to 5 tablespoons ice water

 

For the filling:

1 cup cooked sweet potato

3/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup milk

3 eggs

2/3 cup light brown sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger

1teaspoon ground cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/8 teaspoon salt

1.  To make the crust, in a food processor, briefly pulse together the flour and salt.  Add the butter and pulse until the mixture forms lima bean-size pieces (three to five 1-second pulses).  Ad ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, and pulse until the mixture is just moist enough to hold together.  Form the dough into a ball, wrap with plastic and flatten into a disc.  Refrigerate at least 1 hour before rolling out.

2.  On a lightly floured surface, roll out the piecrust to a 12-inch circle.  Transfer the crust to a 9-inch pie plate.  Fold over any excess dough, then crimp as decoratively as you can manage. 

3.  Prick the crust all over with a fork.  Freeze the crust for 15 minutes or refrigerate for 30 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 400°F.  Cover the pie with aluminum foil and fill with pie weights (you can us pennies, rice, or dried beans for this; I use pennies).  Bake for 20 minutes; remove the foil and weights and bake until golden, about 5 to 10 minutes more.  Cool on a rack until needed. 

4.  To make the filling, cut a slit into one large sweet potato and wrap tightly in foil.  Bake at 400°F until sweet potato is very soft, about an hour.  Let cool.

5.  Scoop 1 cup of cooked sweet potato into food processor, discarding skin.  Reduce oven temperature to 325°F.  Add all remaining filling ingredients to food processor and puree until smooth. 

6.  Spoon filling into pie crust and spread until flat and even.  Place pie on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the custard is mostly firm and set but jiggles slightly when moved, 45 to 55 minutes.  Let cool to room temperature and serve with fresh whipped cream.

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Cocktails, Appetizers, Salads and Breads:
Liquor.com: Thanksgiving Cocktails
The Kitchn: Goat Cheese Panna Cotta Topped With Canned Cranberry Jelly Cut-Outs
Big Girls Small Kitchen: Braided Biscuits
Epicurious: Chestnut and Sherry Soup
Yahoo! Shine: Spicy Caramelized Onion Jam With Goat Cheese
YumSugar: Kale and Chard Salad with Pomegranates and Hazelnuts
Whole Foods Market: Mixed Green Salad With Pears, Hazelnuts, Blue Cheese and Homemade Croutons

Mains:
FN Dish: Alton Brown's Good Eats Roast Turkey
Eatocracy: Country Ham With Pickled Peaches
BlogHer Food: Root Vegetable Pot Pie With Cheddar Biscuit Crust

Sides:
Cooking Light: Fennel, Sausage, and Caramelized Apple Stuffing
Bon Appetit: Maxine Rapoport's Turkey Stuffing
EatingWell: Green Bean Casserole
Serious Eats: Ultra-Crispy Roasted Potatoes

Oprah.com: David Chang's Roasted Brussels Sprouts With Asian Vinaigrette

Food Republic: Cavatappi With Fontina and Fall Vegetables

Healthy Eats: Green Bean Casserole With Crispy Shallots
Saveur: Green Beans and Tomatoes
Diner's Journal: Fiery Sweet Potatoes
Real Simple: Brown Sugar-Glazed Carrots With Rosemary and Pecans
The Daily Meal: Bacon Brussels Sprouts
AP/ J.M. Hirsch: Ginger-Pear Cranberry Sauce
Food52: Mashed Potatoes with Caramelized Onions and Goat Cheese
Food.com: Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes

Food & Wine: Michael Symon's Swiss Chard and Leek Gratin

All You: Sweet Potato Bake

Desserts:
The Blender/ Williams-Sonoma: Deep-Dish Apple Bourbon Streusel Pie
Southern Living: Pumpkin-Pecan Cheesecake
Cooking Channel: Apple Bread Pudding

Fox News: Ginger Molasses Sugar Cookies

Gourmet Live: Pumpkin Coconut Panna Cotta
Melissa Clark: Sweet Potato Ginger Custard Pie
MyRecipes.com: White Chocolate Cheesecake With Cranberry Currant Compote

 

Kitchen Hip Tip: Toast Your Challah When Making French Toast

We've been eating a lot of French toast on the weekends, ever since we enrolled our small child in a Temple preschool. To support their fundraising efforts, we subscribed to their challah-a-week program, which means we have a constant supply of the ideal French toast bread, and no reason not to fry it up for breakfast on Sunday mornings.

THe thing is, since we get the bread on Friday, it's not quite stale by Sunday. And stale, dry bread soaks up the custard and vanilla and other French toast yumminess better than moist, fresh bread. To compensate, for weeks, I dried out slices of the bread in a low oven, just letting it bake until it was firm and dry but not at all golden. It took its sweet time but then why hurry on a Sunday?

One week, I had reason to want to hurry (you know, a screaming 3 year old demanding her French toast NOW, that sort of hurry). So instead of slowly and patiently drying out the bread, I quickly toasted it under the boiler until it was deeply bronzed on both sides.

And it made the best French toast ever. This is not surprising. Browned, caramelized sugars, whether we are talking about the sugar in challah or the natural sugar in vegetables or meats, add a deep flavor to foods. And it really made my French toast even tastier -- richer, slightly nutty, while still remaining custardy and tender in the center. And the best part, you can do it FAST when a certain little someone wants their breakfast NOW.

Here's what you do: Toast the challah slices (or any bread slices, this works with all breads) under the broiler until golden. Mix up a custard. You can use milk, almond milk, coconut milk, whatever you've got and your diet allows, along with eggs, a pinch of salt, a little honey, some vanilla extract or orange blossom water, and nutmeg (the nutmeg is essential).

Let the bread soak in the custard until it absorbs it - at least 10 minutes or longer if you can bide for time by feeding your small child some maple syrup off a spoon. After all, that's what she really wants.

Then fry up the slices in butter in a skillet. I let my husband do that bit. He's a more patient fryer than I am. I get antsy and multitask and end up burning everything. He has the focus to stand there and wait for the slices to take on the perfect degree of browness before flipping - without giving into the pull of the full dishwasher  (he fries, I empty).

You can also  bake your French toast slices. But takes much longer. And aren't you hungry yet?

Kitchen Hip Tip: To De-Slime Okra, Bury it in Salt

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A few weeks ago I was hunting through the farmers' market with the lovely Debbie Koenig, having that all too famliiar yet always hunger-inducing conversation of "what should we make for dinner."

We stopped by a stand selling okra, and I decided to continue my experiments. Lately I'd been trying to rid some of the pod's slime by broiling it. The idea is that super high heat dries up the viscous juices and makes everything crisp. That's my theory about why fried okra is so much less slimy than boiled okra (please correct me if anyone knows better!).

Now, let me take a slimy digression; I actually don't mind the slime. In fact, I'm an okra enthusiast and love the little green torpedo in all permuations. However, I know there are plenty of people out there who are put off by that mucilaginous quality, and I wanted to be able to feed them okra, too.

While Debbie and I were talking about this, a gentleman, who was also buying okra, overheard our conversation and offered this tip for de-slime-ing okra, which he said he learned in the Middle East.

He said to toss whole okra in a generous pile of salt in a colander suspended over a plate, to catch the drips. Keep in a sunny place for two days. The salt draws out the slime, he said.

So I tried it, salting and the okra and letting it rest in the sun for a couple of days. Then I split the pods lenthwise in half, tossed them with olive oil, ground cumin, salt, and cayenne and broiled them until they were crisp.

I have to say, they were nearly slime-less. And utterly delicious.

Then as a control, I broiled okra exactly the same way a few days latter, but without salting it first. It was wonderful, but slightly slimier. 

Verdict: The salt trick works, but only to a mild degree, at least for broiling. Next I'm going to
try salting the okra and then cooking it in gumbo, the proudest slimy dish of all time. In the meantime, I'd say if you have 2 days to plan ahead, might as well salt your okra since the texture is improved, slightly. If not, just try my broiling method and let me know what you think!

 

Cupcakes (Squared) for Dahlia's Birthday

This is the story of two cupcake recipes that I made for Dahlia's 3rd birthday. One was pretty (see above: pretty!). And one was a disaster (no photo evidence available).

Really I just want to give you the recipe for the pretty cupcakes, sweet potato and pumpkin cupcakes studded with raisins (at Dahlia's request) and iced with a maple cream cheese buttercream. Purple sanding sugar makes it all glisten. I made them for her preschool birthday party and they were a hit with teachers and kids alike.

For good reason.

The cake crumb was tender, moist, with a light spicing and substantial heft, filled with good homemade pumpkin puree (I had some in the freezer, you could use canned), and one sweet potato that I nuked in the microwave until soft, then mashed up. It turned out to be a nice combo: the sweet potato really added great flavor and complexity here and perked up the pumpkin, which I think can be kind of one-note. I'm sure you could make these with all sweet potato, or all pumpkin, though I might up the spices a bit if you don't like the complexity of the two veggies going on.

Anyway, the recipe for these beauties is below. If you cut the sugar and skip the frosting they would make lovely muffins. Nuts would be a nice addition if you're not bringing them to preschool.

Now let me tell you quickly about the sad cupcakes I made for her birthday party in the park. Vanilla cake (nice, light but nothing to blog about, frankly). But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the frosting, a buttercream spiked with creme fraiche, which made it so LIGHT! So Fluffy! They were works of art before I left the house for Prospect Park on what was a strange, 85-degree day in October.

But on the way, in the shopping cart that Daniel and I used to drag the party stuff down Flatbush to the park, the frosting melted, and dripped everywhere. It also kind of curdled in the heat. Okay, it didn't taste curdled but it looked curdled. Really not what you want. Luckily, I had brought a basket of different colored sanding sugars and let the kids decorate the tops to their hearts' content. Yes, they liked that. And they liked the cupcakes. They were tasty. But I'm never making that recipe again.

 

Pumpkin Sweet Potato Cupcakes with Raisins and Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

Makes about 30 cupcakes

 

Pumpkin-Sweet Potato Cupcakes

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons fine sea salt

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

6 large eggs, at room temperature

2 cups pumpkin puree (mine was from a cheese pumpkin but that doesn't matter)

1 cup sweet potato mush (see note)

2 cups light brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 1/2 cups unsalted butter (3 sticks), melted

1 cup raisins (or nuts, or a combo)

 

Cream Cheese Maple Frosting:

2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar

6 tablespoons maple syrup

Red food coloring, optional

Blue food coloring, optional

Colored sanding sugar, optional

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350° F. Fill three standard 12-cup muffin tins with cupcake liners.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, pumpkin and sweet potato purees, sugars, and butter. If there are lots of squash or potato lumps, puree the mixture for a minute or so in a food processor or blender.

Fold in the dry ingredients until just combined. Fold in the raisins.

4. Fill each muffin cup 2/3 full with batter. Bake cupcakes until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center emerges clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Let cupcakes cool in the tin for 5 minutes, then remove and transfer cupcakes to a wire rack to cool completely. 

5. While the cupcakes bake, make the frosting: Whip the cream cheese and butter together until light and fluffy. Beat in sugar and maple syrup. For a pretty pale pink, add several drops of red food coloring and one or two scant drops of blue.  Scrape the frosting into a large resealable plastic bag (or you can use a pastry bag with a wide tip if you've got one) and refrigerate until cupcakes are completely cool.

6. When you're ready to decorate the cupcakes, snip one corner of the plastic bag. Squeeze a large dollop onto each cupcake. Flatten with an offset spatula if desired. Sprinkle with colored sugar.

 

Note: To make the sweet potato mush, place the sweet potato chunks on a microwaveable plate and cover loosely with a paper towel. Microwave on medium heat until they are very soft, about 7 minutes. Mash until very smooth (you should have about 1 cup).

 

Blanched Kale Salad with Garlic-Anchovy Breadcrumbs

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I love kale in all its manifestations, but lately it's been all about raw kale salads in my kitchen. And I'm not alone. Raw kale salads are riding a major trend. You see them everywhere, usually sporting a garlicky caesar dressing, or something else rich and cheesy to counterbalance all that green healthfulness.

It's counterintuitive, though, when you think about it. On the surface of it all, kale seems so sturdy and forbidding.

But when you choose the tenderest leaves and slice them thinly, raw kale can make for a surprisingly buoyant and vivacious salad (using lacinato, aka Tuscan kale, helps since it's usually very tender). 

A recipe I published in the Times for Raw Tuscan Kale Salad With Pecorino (based on one from Franny's Bklyn) is what I make at home all the time and last night I was craving it.  But the curly kale I had from the farmers' market turned out to be on the tough side—fibrous, bitter and a little sharp.  I think the leaves were too "mature" (and not in a good, aged-cheese way), so I subjeccted them to a steamy, quick blanching that rendered them soft, floppy, and very sweet.

A dash of bright, fresh lemon and a healthy splash of good olive oil slicked the wilted leaves with zing and buttery mellowness.  Then I bloomed a little garlic and anchovy in a pan with olive oil and  added some of the whole-wheat breadcrumbs I've been keeping around, and fried them until they were crunchy. 

Since Daniel doesn't eat cheese, I skipped the pecorino, which is what I often do when we're sharing the salad. It came out beautifully.  Though not technically "raw", the barely-blanched curly kale was deeply fulfilling, sweet, and extremely fresh tasting. Although I didn't add them, I could see chopped olives or whole capers making a suitable, saline garnish. 

I'm always happy to add a new kale dish to my already kale-happy repertory and this is a good one.

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