Author Archives: Sara

Fannie Farmer’s Gingerbread Cake, somewhat better for you

Every so often, I just have to have some gingerbread.  I’ve always loved gingerbread–who doesn’t?  And after two years living in central Europe, where this spice-laden cake was everywhere, the added dose of nostalgia only intensifies my cravings.  I even prevailed upon my friend Jennifer to bring me some back from her annual trip to visit family in Vienna.  She happily indulged me, and threw in some marzipan and plum butter, the other habits I picked up while over there.

Now, I have nothing against fancy cakes with frilly frosting, but when I’m baking, I go for something that doesn’t need that little bit extra.  I must be honest and admit part of it could be a touch of laziness as I often run out of steam when it comes time to whip up a buttercream frosting.  As I see it, this failing of mine is a virtue, as a cake is already sugar and fat a-plenty, and frosting only makes things worse.  So I’m not making a tremendous effort to reform my ways.

A gingerbread cake, with the warm, complex flavors of molasses and spice, certainly can stand on its own, though it can handle a drizzle of icing if you must. Because it’s homey and unfussy, it takes beautifully to a bit of whole-grain flours as well, which is all the better–as you know I’m often tweaking recipes to add a bit of whole wheat pastry flour here, or buckwheat flour there…

So here I am, tinkering a Fannie Farmer recipe.  I came across this in the current issue of Edible Boston (where else would Ms. Farmer, of the Boston Cooking School, get a shout-out?).  If you don’t know the Edible Communities series of magazines, you can check here to see if there’s one for your city or region–they round up the best of local food producers and purveyors, together with thoughtful articles, beautiful photography, and of course, recipes.

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (1 of 2)

This cake pulls together easily, but is fun to make as it has an unusual method–melting the butter and molasses together.  You add baking soda directly to the hot mix, causing this fragrant concoction to foam and bubble up furiously.  Speaking of which–make sure to have that baking soda all measured and ready to go:  you don’t want a sticky mess of molasses and butter spilling out of the pot while you’re looking for that 1/4 teaspoon measure.  Stir it down, let it cool a bit, and add in the remaining ingredients.

I have no idea what the purpose is behind this unusual set of steps, but it’s fun and I don’t have to get out the stand mixer, so I’ll go with it.

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (1 of 6)Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (2 of 6)

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (3 of 6)Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (4 of 6)

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (5 of 6)

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (6 of 6)

The cake is not overly sweet, but it is rich, which means that a dollop of tart (but admittedly also rich) creme fraiche on the side complements it quite well.

Gingerbread Cake, adapted from Fannie Farmer’s 1896 Soft Molasses Gingerbread

Notes:  I used spelt flour in place of some of the all-purpose flour, but I’m certain you could easily use whole wheat flour or whole wheat pastry flour as well.  And make sure to line your cake pan with parchment–like any good gingerbread cake, this is moist and sticky.  

  • 1 cup molasses
  • 1/3 c unsalted butter (80g), plus additional butter for greasing the pan
  • 1 3/4t baking soda
  • 1c buttermilk
  • 1 egg
  • 1c all purpose flour (125g)
  • 1c spelt flour (125g)
  • 2 teaspoons ground ginger
  • pinch mace
  • pinch allspice
  • 1/2t salt

Preheat oven to 350F (175C).  Butter a 9″ round cake pan and line with a circle of parchment paper cut to fit.  (This cake is very dense and moist).

In a large saucepan, melt the butter and the molasses together, and heat until boiling.  Turn of the heat (and remove to a surface it won’t be too hard to clean up) and add the baking soda all at once.  Stir it down–it will froth and foam and bubble up for longer than you’d expect.

Allow to cool for a few minutes.  (You might prepare the pan now if you haven’t done so).  Add half of the flour, then the milk and egg, and then the remaining flour.  Pour into the prepared pan, and bake for about 30 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.  Allow to cool for at least 30 minutes before removing from the pan.

Fannie Farmer's Gingerbread Cake (2 of 2)

Roasted Squash and Brussels Sprouts Salad

I don’t know when it happened, but somehow my concept of “salad” has been evolving away from leafy, light, and most of all green.  I hardly ever buy those bags of prewashed lettuce anymore (even fancy arugula or mesclun!), whereas once they were a mainstay for me.  I still buy healthy cruciferous vegetables for my salads, but now they tend to be the type that takes well to roasting, braising, or wilting:  we’re talking kale, broccoli rabe, or cabbage.  They then get tossed with hearty roots or squash, and chewy wheat berries or brown rice.  Rather than cool and crisp, these salads need to be served room temperature or even slightly warm.  I think the only thing this has in common with the more typical approach to salad that the mix of flavors and textures is bound together by a salty-sweet-smooth vinaigrette.

This salad I’m going to tell you about continues in my new vein.  I roasted chunks of squash and chopped brussels sprouts in the oven, while a pot of brown rice simmered and steamed its way to tenderness on the stove.  Meanwhile, to bring out the sweet caramelized flavors of these vegetables, I made a pomegranate molasses vinaigrette.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Winter Squash Salad (3 of 3)

Pomegranate molasses is an intense syrup made by boiling down pomegranate juice until thick and viscous–you can do it on your own, but unless you have a source for affordable pomegranate juice, it would be prohibitively expensive.  (But if you do have a source, please let me know!)  Much easier to buy it in the middle eastern section of the grocery store or online.  I’m always searching for interesting uses for it, and it occurred to me that its acid tang could brighten a winter salad.  I chose apple cider vinegar to complement the fruity notes of the molasses while cutting its intense sweetness.  A little salt, a healthy glug of olive oil, and your dressing is ready.

For a stunning visual effect I garnished with pomegranate seeds–I love the way they are both chewy and yet burst in your mouth, and their unusual mix of flavors:  an almost berry-like flavor with a gently bitter finish.  To prepare your own, cut the pomegranate in half and hold over a bowl while you use your fingertips to massage the seeds out.   Remove any white membrane that falls into the bowl and discard.  There’s one additional tip that I find indispensable–wear something you don’t mind staining.  This juice is dark and red and no matter how careful you are seems to squirt everywhere as you fish out the fruit.  An apron is just not enough.  (Or, I’m particularly messy, which is a possibility that cannot be discounted).

Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Winter Squash Salad (2 of 3)

You don’t have to use the pomegranate seeds, but they are a nice touch.  Persephone found them tempting enough to get herself stuck six months of the year in the underworld, but I promise there’s no downside for you.

Either way, this turned out to be a great addition to my growing repertoire of hearty salads.  Unlike a green salad, you can make it in quantity and, find that the flavors have improved and melded the next day.  Perfect for stocking your lunchbox for the week, and for not leaving you hungry.   Rabbit food it most definitely is not.

Roasted Squash and Brussels Sprouts Salad with Pomegranate Molasses Dressing

Note:  All the ingredients are approximate–tweak and adjust to suit your taste.

  • 2c cubed squash (approximately 1/2 inch pieces)
  • 1c brussels sprouts, cut in half
  • 2 t pomegranate molasses
  • 2T apple cider vinegar
  • 6T olive oil
  • 1 cup brown rice
  • salt and pepper for seasoning
  • pomegranate seeds for garnish (optional)

To roast the vegetables, preheat the oven to 425.  Toss the squash with a little olive oil and salt and spread on a rimmed cookie sheet.  Do the same on a second cookie sheet with the brussels sprouts.  Roast for about 20 minutes or until the squash is tender and the sprouts are wilted and even a bit crisp at the edges.

While you are doing this, cook your rice.   I use Saveur’s method, as modified by Pinch my Salt.

Make your vinaigrette:  whisk together the pomegranate molasses, vinegar, and a pinch of salt, then whisk the in the olive oil, adding it in a thin stream.  I always mix the vinaigrette in my serving bowl–that way there’s plenty of room to mix the dressing, then I add the salad ingredients.

Allows the the rice, squash, and brussels sprouts to cool slightly, then mix together with the dressing.  Adjust for salt.  Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds if desired.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Winter Squash Salad (1 of 3)

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Sauteed Broccoli Rabe and Potatoes

Have you noticed by now that people are trying to convince you to do just about everything with bacon?  Sometimes it’s simple (candied bacon), sometimes it could occasion a little eyebrow raising (though you can’t write it off if it’s David Lebovitz‘s bacon ice cream), and sometimes it’s just not going to ever happen in my kitchen (bacon vodka).  But it does make for amusing reading, if nothing else–click here and here if you want to see just how outlandish it can get.

(And yes, I can’t deny it, we are all susceptible: I did after all make bacon spice cookies a while back.  It’s no fun to be Serious Cuisine all the time is it?)

So–even with everyone jumping on this bacon bandwagon, using lard or bacon fat is still a bit out there.  (When did you last eat an apple pie made with lard?)  But even though it’s head-spinning to try to keep up with these things, it looks as if these animal fats aren’t quite so bad, or at least not in comparison with their trans-fat laden substitutes. (My crude understanding of this being to stay away from vegetable fats that are solid at room temperature).

Broccoli Rabe Potatoes in Bacon Fat (2 of 2)

I don’t know if I was inspired by healthier living (nor can I really say that with a straight face, we’re talking pork fat here), an attempt at kitchen frugality, or just this bacon craze, but I’ve recently been saving the (massive amounts of) drippings that render from our CSA bacon.  As this bacon is from heritage breed  pigs, it is by no stretch of the imagination lean.  But it’s amazingly good.  So good, that why would I not want to draw out the flavors of a Sunday breakfast through the week, especially if I can convince myself I’m being virtuous by, well, um, using bacon drippings?

I’ve made broccoli rabe pan-fried with potatoes many times since I first read about it on Leite’s Culinaria.  The slightly bitter but fresh tasting rabe with crisped soft potatoes is a perfectly rib-sticking winter food.   The original recipe is from Julia della Croce’s Italian Home Cooking and thus calls for olive oil.  I’ve found that it’s equally wonderful with bacon fat–all those meaty aromas melding into your potatoes and flavoring your greens.  Either way, it’s just right for mid-January.  And I guess it means I’m trendy.

Broccoli Rabe Potatoes in Bacon Fat (1 of 2)

Sautéed Broccoli Rabe and Potatoes, inspired by and adapted from Julia Della Croce’s recipe available here or here

Note:  The original recipe uses olive oil, so if you don’t like, don’t have, or just don’t eat pork, fear not as I can assure it’s equally wonderful either way.

  • 2 Yukon Gold or similar potatoes, unpeeled
  • 1 bunch broccoli rabe
  • salt
  • 4-6 tablespoons bacon fat or extra-virgin olive oil
  • 6 large garlic cloves, smashed and peeled

Put the potatoes in a deep bot and cover with cold water to cover by an inch.  Bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to gently boil for about 20 minutes until the potatoes are just tender when pierced with a knife (total time will depend upon the size of the potato).  Lift the potatoes out of the water (don’t drain the water but rather leave it in the pot as you will be using it momentarily).  Allow the potatoes to cool.

Trim the rabe:  cut the hard ends off and (ideally) peel the stalks with a vegetable peeler.  Cut off the florets and then chop the stems into 3-inch chunks.  Return the potato water to a boil, adding the salt and extra water if needed.  Then add the stalks, boil for 2-3 minutes, then add the florets, and cook 2-3 minutes more, until  stalks are tender but not mushy.  Note this blanching process doesn’t just cook the rabe but also draws out bitterness.

Peel the skin off the potatoes–it will come off easily using your fingertips alone and cut each potato into 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick pieces.

In a large skillet, heat the fat or oil over medium heat.  Add the garlic and saute gently until soft, just a few minutes, and remove the garlic to a bowl.

Raise the heat to medium-high.  When it is hot, (and only when it is hot; this helps prevent sticking and promotes crispiness) add the potatoes, and sauté until they are golden and crisp all over, about 10 minutes.   Add the rabe and garlic cloves, and continue to saute until the greens are well-coated with the fat or oil and are heated through.

Adjust for seasoning and serve.

Modern Baker Challenge: Lime-Scented Wafers

I don’t make cookies as often as you might expect–for someone who blogs a lot about baking, if you poke around here enough you’ll note that my posts on this topic are scant.  It’s probably just a matter of taking the easy way out–I just prefer something I can stir together and dump into a pan all at one go.  (So when I figured out that you can basically bake muffins as a quick bread, you can guess what happened).

Lime Scented Wafers (1 of 5)

However, I did sign up for the Modern Baker Challenge, and a few weeks ago, you might just recall, was Christmas, so it’s practically obligatory to turn a few batches of cookies out of the oven.  With no particular plan in mind I leafed through my second copy of the Modern Baker down in DC. (It’s not because I’m obsessed that I have a spare:  Nick Malgieri was kind enough to send all us participants a personalized signed copy so I now have two, which turned out to be quite convenient).  I paused at the page for the lime-scented wafers–citrusy, simple, with a single batch turning out enough to feed a crowd, this seemed like the perfect option.

Lime Scented Wafers (2 of 5)

This is nothing more than a basic roll cookie–formed into a tube, chilled, and sliced–scented with lime juice, coated in lime zest and sugar crust.  Pretty simple, but like many things that are simple, difficult to get absolutely perfect.  Aesthetically at least.  It might be failure begetting failure, with me making bar cookies too infrequently to get the technique down, but my carefully rolled cylinders always emerge from the fridge flattened at the base.  So instead of crisp little cookie disks I get something looking either like a deflated tire or worse, a badly drawn rectangle.  I tried to smoosh them back into the desired shape as I placed them one by one onto the baking sheet but it got to be tedious, and with the dough softening more and more I wasn’t improving matters.  For those of you baking along, I also ended up using only about half of the lime sugar coating.    I meant to find some creative use for it, but with kitchen real estate being very tight in a full house, down the garbage disposal it eventually went.  If you make these, I’d say you only need half the quantity called for.

Lime Scented Wafers (3 of 5)

Fortunately, I am not a professional baker, and my in-laws are not so fussy about the details as long as the cookie tastes as it should.  (Substance over form here, people).  Crisp and fragrant, with a crunchy sugar edge, it was a welcome component of my husband’s family’s traditional “Platter of Sin.”  They softened a bit after a few days, but were still being happily nibbled on.

Lime Scented Wafers (4 of 5)

So while these cookies were definitely not a disappointment (and there was an impressive quantity of them), I’d still say I have to work out a few kinks before I become a cookie-making superhero.  In the meantime, if there’s any secret tricks you’d care to share, I’m all ears.

I leave you with a shot of the infamous Platter of Sin.  And be assured, that’s only a small portion of it, lest you have any fears that it’s not sinful enough.

Lime Scented Wafers (5 of 5)

Spicy Tomato Soup

Was one of my New Year’s Resolutions to post more frequently?  No–phew-that was Karen.  Because I’m not off to a good start.  And what’s more, I’m posting about something I made w-a-y back last year (which, to be fair, was only a few weeks ago, but why not play it up for dramatic effect).

We were down in DC for Christmas, at my husband’s parents’ house.  My sister-in-law’s copy of Boston restauranteur Barbara Lynch’s cookbook Stir  has taken up semi-permanent residence in their house thanks to her currently reduced kitchen space.  For me this works out well since it means I get a chance to have a good look at it while I am down there.  (Yes, I go to other people’s houses and read their cookbooks.  Is that weird? It’s better than raiding the medicine cabinet).  

My mother-in-law has the typical list on the fridge, except it’s not quite what you’d expect:  rather than writing down the things that need to be picked up on the next trip to the grocery store, it’s a list entitled, things we have too much of.  A “do not buy” list.  You see, my father in law likes to stock up on those staples that don’t go bad, so there are always plenty of dried beans, boxes of pasta, and 28-ounce cans of plum tomatoes.

Canned tomatoes on the do-not-buy list.  Spicy tomato soup in in-law’s cookbook.  In need of a light meal after Christmas excess.  Bingo!

Spicy Tomato Soup (4 of 4)

There are many things that are fantastic about this soup.  First, it’s tremendously pantry-friendly (I suppose that goes without saying) and easy to pull together.  Onions, canned tomatoes, olive oil, and seasonings.  I used dried oregano instead of fresh basil, and in a soup like this it worked just perfectly, as the slow gentle simmer allows the herbs plenty of time to release their flavor into the liquid.

Not only that, it’s a real two-fer.  After you puree and strain the soup, you can save the leftover pulp to make a fiery bruschetta spread for crusty bread or (as Barbara Lynch suggests) even use it to top roasted eggplant.

Spicy Tomato Soup (3 of 4)

It’s a delicious soup that manages to be elegant yet homey at the same time.  And thanks to the red pepper flakes, it’s also peppy. And I was almost surprised by how much I liked it:  sometimes tomato soups can be a little too sweet.  I don’t know if it’s the onions or the hot pepper that tones this down, or both, but the flavors are perfectly calibrated.  It’s a real treat to enjoy vibrant tomato flavor in the middle of winter.  A nice dollop of creme fraiche or sour cream on top doesn’t hurt either.

Spicy Tomato Soup (2 of 4)

And now my father-in-law can buy more canned tomatoes.

Spicy Tomato Soup adapted from Stir: Mixing It Up in the Italian Tradition by Barbara Lynch, original recipe also available on www.chow.com or with a video of Lynch demonstrating here.

Although we did not make the grilled cheese sandwich to go along with the soup, enjoying instead some gruyere and cured meats, you can find the recipe here.  I’ll definitely be trying it soon–the method looks so easy and straightforward.

If you’re wavering on how much red pepper to use, I’ll let you know that I used 1 1/2 teaspoons–and while I loved it, I’ll just say I definitely won’t be adding more in the future.

  • 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 small yellow onion, peeled, halved, and sliced into 1/4-inch-thick slices
  • 1 t dried oregano
  • 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons red pepper flakes
  • 2 (28-ounce) cans whole tomatoes (preferably Italian plum tomatoes)
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  • Kosher salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • Crème fraîche or sour cream for garnish

Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat until hot. Add the onions red pepper flakes, and oregano and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft, about 10 minutes.

Pour in the tomatoes, including the juices, and the water.  Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the flavors have melded, about 30 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, remove from the heat, and let cool briefly, about 5 minutes.

Balance a fine-mesh strainer over a large, heatproof bowl. In a blender, purée the soup in batches until smooth.  (If using a blender, remove the pour lid from teh center of the lid and cover with a kitchen towel–this will allow steam to escape from the hot soup so the pour lid doesn’t pop off).  Pour the blended soup through the strainer, pressing the liquid out of the pulp.  Reserve this pulp to use to top bread or as a condiment.  Taste the soup and season with additional salt and pepper as needed.

When you strain, a few tips:  it’s easier to do so strain in batches.  Holding the strainer that is increasingly weighed down by pulp gets heavy fast.  You can of course balance it over the bowl, but when that bowl is so full of strained soup that the base of your strainer is immersed in it, it’s time to remove it to another bowl or you’re not going to get anywhere.  Finally, if you stir the soup in the strainer, it helps push the liquid through more quickly, then press the pulp when most of the liquid is through to get out the last bits.

Return the soup to the saucepan and reheat on medium low until hot.  (Beware of reheating purees other than gently–it will look and act like molten lava).  A dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche makes a nice garnish.

Spicy Tomato Soup (1 of 4)

White Bean Puree with Sage Brown Butter and Walnuts

Sometimes a small change can make all the difference.

This is something I’m trying to remember as I continue to generate new years resolutions for myself.  I’m not one of those people–the ones who wave their hand with dramatic flourish, throw their head back, and declare “Me?  I don’t do New Years Resolutions.”  I probably veer towards the other extreme, as it’s only January 2nd and I have an ambitious to-do list including reorganizing the house, finally getting pictures on the wall, catching up on the various foreign languages I’ve studied, coming up with new activities to do with my children, and finally  sticking to a great new exercise regimen…if only my energy and stick-to-it-ness were as boundless as my list-making ability is prolific.

So I’m trying to remember that it’s the tiny tweaks that make the biggest difference–and maybe for no reason other that you are more likely to follow through with them.   

One small change I made a few years back was to start making soup stock from scratch.  Though it requires that you’re generally “around” for a few hours and that you have the forethought to clear some space in the freezer, there’s not much more to it than that.  I know some people can get rhapsodic about how some kitchen technique or another cosmically altered the course of their life, but I’m not dramatic enough of a personality to demarcate my life into “before” and “after” homemade stock eras.  Even with that, I’ll still say that whenever I use homemade stock, there’s an extra depth of flavor and complexity in even the most simple things you make–it’s a simple routine to get into that reverberates through everything that emerges from your kitchen.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (1 of 4)

I love my legumes, so I’ve made white bean puree many times–but while always good, it was never tremendously exciting.   Instead, it was hummus’s poor cousin–a bit bland, with a texture that was smooth but not quite silky enough.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (1 of 2)
But here’s a lesson in the amazing properties of good soup stock.   Simmered in nothing more than broth, this puree is remarkably rich and smooth, even before the first golden drizzles of brown butter sauce start puddling on its surface.  The walnuts are both a textural contrast and a mellow counterpoint to the puree, and the brown butter sauce enhances the qualities of both:  smooth and liquid like the beans, nutty like the walnuts.  (Not surprising, since the French term is beurre noisette–hazelnut butter).

A dish that can not just hold its own against its tahini-chickpea cousin, but even earns a rightful place on a well-appointed dinner menu–here, with a rack of lamb, grains, and green beans.  Not a bad New Year’s Day meal.  Not a bad lesson to keep in mind for the new year.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (2 of 2)
White Bean Puree with Sage Brown Butter and Walnuts

Note:  If your New Year’s resoluations include not wasting food, assuage your conscience:  you can get through a good amount of fresh sage in this recipe.    We used a roasted turkey broth we had made from Thanksgiving remains, but I’ve included instructions for chicken broth below.

Puree

  • 1c dry white beans such as cannelini or great northern beans
  • 1 rib of celery
  • 1 carrot
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 2c chicken broth
  • 1 sprig sage (about 6-8 leaves per sprig)
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • sage brown butter sauce (below)
  • 1/2 cup walnuts

Brown butter sauce

  • 4T butter
  • 1 sprig sage leaves

Soak the beans overnight or at least for several hours if you can.  (If you forget to soak, cover the beans with water and bring to a boil for 2-3 minutes, turn off the heat and allow to stand for an hour before proceeding with the recipe).

Drain the beans and put them into a pot with the celery, carrot, garlic, and one sprig of sage.  Add the broth and about 2 cups of water.  Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook gently for about 2 hours.  (Because you are going to puree this, you want the beans to be very soft).  When the beans start to soften, season with salt and pepper.  Add additional water (or stock) if the mixture starts to dry out.

When the beans are very soft, fish out the carrot, celery, and sage.  Drain the beans but reserve the liquid–you’ll need to add this liquid as you puree to get it to the desired consistency.  Puree in the food processor until creamy, adding liquid as necessary–I used probably a half a cup.  Reheat the puree very gently (I used a microwave) and remove to a serving bowl.

While the beans are cooking, toast the walnuts:  break up with your fingers or chop, then put in a small skillet over medium-high heat.  Toast, stirring frequently until the nuts brown and become more aromatic–be careful not to burn them, it can happen quickly.  Remove immediately from the pan.

To make the brown butter sauce, pluck the leaves of sage from the second sprig.  Melt the butter over medium heat (I used the same small skillet I used for the walnuts).  After the butter has melted, keep heating it–it will start to bubble and sizzle furiously, and then start to recede.  You’ll see brown solids begin to fall and collect at the bottom of the skillet while the butter turns caramel in color.  Around this time you’ll catch the butter’s nutty aroma rising from the skillet.  Add the sage leaves, stir, and remove to a bowl.

Make a well in the center of the puree, drizzle in the brown butter sauce, and sprinkle the toasted walnuts on top.

New Year’s Resolutions

Hey folks, we’re putting it out here on the internet, in writing, so you can keep us honest and hold us to it.  Here’s our blogging-related New Years Resolutions.  Some of them are new, and some of them are the same we make each year, but maybe this time round it will stick!

What are your crafty and culinary goals for 2012?

Marie

1.  Cook more. In general. I’m a slacker.

2. Make more cocktails at home.

3. Make more recipes out of Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything.

4. Eat all my baby carrots before they go bad (and all other food in the fridge).

5. Eat more fresh vegetables.

Karen

1.  Blog more on my experimental, home cooking.

2.  Sew more and more.  (Hey, didn’t you notice?  The tagline on this blog is three sisters blogging about thing crafty and culinary).

3.  Try more Portlandia restaurants East of the river.  Besides Marie’s Brooklyn, I am in one of the trendiest food cities, after all.

Sara

1.  Cook more meat from our meat CSA, rather than keeping a makeshift morgue in our garage freezer.

2.  On the topic of food hoarding:  Actually use what I put in the freezer rather than using it to pretend I’m not letting food go to waste.  Use my pantry staples before I have to really start wondering how long that brown basmati rice has been in there.  You get the picture.

3.  Learn to make my own pasta.  I keep hearing it’s just so easy, but I’m certain that I’m getting worse with practice.  This apparently was a goal of mine back when we started the blog, among many thoughts I expounded upon in an embarrassingly rambly post.  (Hey, uh, I was finding my voice?)

4.  Have more dinner parties and brunches for friends.  No downside here.

5.  Maybe I should finish that sweater I started before little H was born.  I don’t have the excuse that I can’t wear it because I’m pregnant anymore.  I hope the moths haven’t gotten to it.

And for all of us, have fun, learn, and grow!  All the best in 2012!

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Roasted Winter Vegetable and Wheat Berry Salad

The holiday season may not be quite wrapped up yet, but I doubt I’m alone in my sense that it’s time to dial things back a little.  As much as it goes by quickly, the holiday season is also long, and (I’m about to sound crochety here) it just seems to be getting longer.  The supposed one-month period from Thanksgiving to New Years now seems to start even earlier–Halloween just barely staunching a trickle of advertisements that finally gushes forth November 1st.

With two young kids, my New Year’s version of tying it on varies between either heading to bed at 10:30 or 11:00.  If I’m not in bed before midnight, it will only be because I’ve accidentally passed out on the couch (from fatigue, not liquor).   So I’ve already moved on to first phase of post-holidays, which is trying to eat a bit lighter and do things a bit more low-key, in attempt to balance out Christmas platters of sin, my mother-in-law’s whiskey sours, and a frenzy of toys.  (I’m hearing the twittering of zhu zhu pets in my dreams…)

So on this blog, in anticipation of the New Year, there are no how-tos for punch bowls bejeweled with a fruit-studded floating ice rings, tiers of cleverly arranged canapes, or how-tos on the perfect cheese platter (but wow, can I get an invite to that party?)  Instead, here’s a recipe that’s easy to execute when you just don’t have the energy-mental or physical-to tackle much of anything.  It’s filling without being heavy, and can pull together whatever disparate mix of leftovers you may still have lingering (loitering?) in your refrigerator.  And if it also takes up residence in the fridge, I find that its flavors meld and get even better the next day.

It’s my take on a  recipe posted on one of the best food blogs out there, David Lebovitz.  (Did you know?  He doesn’t just post sweet recipes–his savory ones are just as mouthwatering).

Roasted Root Vegetable and Wheat Berry Salad (2 of 2)

Now of course I’m not arrogant enough to claim I’ve one-upped Lebovitz.  But it’s such a simple recipe and so infinitely adaptable, and so just right for where we are this time of year that I think it deserves a little play here on Three Clever Sisters.  I’ve pared it down even more than the original recipe and it’s still delicious; but if you’re more ambitious Lebovitz has plenty of suggestions on his blog for amping it up.  What’s perhaps nicest is it’s more method than recipe (everything in this recipe is approximate and fudgeable), and an unfussy way to eat seasonally when it’s most challenging–winter.  The contrast of textures–the nubby chewiness of the wheat berries against the tender roasted vegetables, is perfect comfort, and using preserved lemon adds the kind of vibrant, umami flavor you usually turn to cheese for.  (Yes, New Years resolution-makers, this is vegan!)

And a side note on a trick I’ve recently learned for making easier work of the chopping and peeling.  My personal bugaboo is dealing with winter squash.  No matter how sharp my knife is, it’s always a battle (and I don’t like my odds in knife fights).  However, thanks to googling as well as some suggestions from people on our facebook page, I’ve started microwaving butternuts and their cousins for a few minutes before chopping, and it really does help.  (You could also put it in the oven for a bit).  It seems to generally require a few minutes in total, but I zap in one-minute increments to avoid overdoing it.  I also always make a few slits before starting so that no steam builds up in the vegetable while heating.  I don’t know if it would explode like a potato, but I don’t know want to know either.

As for peeling, I’ve been using a serrated peeler on recommendation from my mother-in-law, and to my amazement it make wonderfully easy work of removing the peel.  A reason I was extra glad to find a second one in my Christmas stocking this year.

Roasted Root Vegetable and Wheat Berry Salad (1 of 2)

Roasted Winter Vegetable and Wheat Berry Salad

  • 1 1/2 c wheat berries or farro
  • one bay leaf
  • 2 pounds assorted root vegetables; I used kuri squash, parsnips, and celery root, you could also use carrots, rutabagas, any winter squash, or salsify, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes.  (More importantly, make sure that all cubes are of similar size so they roast evenly).
  • 1 large red onion, peeled and diced
  • 1/3 c plus 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 10 or so branches of fresh thyme (I used 2 teaspoons or so of dried thyme).
  • salt and freshly-ground black pepper
  • finely chopped preserved lemon or lime, or the juice of a fresh lemon.

Preheat the oven to 425ºF.

Put the wheat berries in a pot and add salted water to cover by one inch.  Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.  Cook until tender but still chewy, about 40 minutes to an hour.

While the wheat berries are cooking, mix the diced vegetables and onion together in a large bowl. Add 2 tablepsoons of olive oil and thyme and season with salt and pepper.  Use your hands to mix evenly.  Spread out on two rimmed baking sheets, and place in the oven to roast until tender.  (Test each type of vegetable; I found that celeriac took longer than the parsnips and squash).  Stir every once or twice while roasting.  It should take around twenty minutes to a half hour but will vary.

When the wheat berries are done, drain and remove the bay leaf.  Pour into a bowl and mix in the remaining about 1/3 cup of olive oil and the chopped preserved lemons (or lemon juice if substituting). Taste, and add more salt if necessary (you will need less if you are using preserved lemons as they are naturally quite salty).

Stir in the roasted vegetables and adjust seasoning again.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

Want more hearty, filling salads?  For more along these lines, check out our other recipes posted herehere and here.

Danish Apple Cake (Aeblekage)

It’s a sure sign you probably have too many cookbooks:  You happen upon a blog post, eyes wide open as you try to take in the amazing pictures of ingredients, technique, and final product (cake!).  You scroll to the end, to see if it’s a recipe you can pull off, and you realize that it’s from a cookbook you’ve owned for ages.  Yup.

On the other hand, at least you don’t have to kill a tree to print out the recipe.

Danish Apple Cake (1 of 3)

This happened to me most recently when I read Rosa’s post on Norwegian Apple Cake.  There it was–straight from one of my favorite baking books, Beatrice Ojakangas’s The Great Scandinavian Baking Book.  Have a look–how could you not want to make this?  (And how could I have missed this for so long?)

Last weekend, friends of ours (whose younger son is the same age as little H) invited us to their Danish  Christmas open house.   The dad of the family is Danish, and this is part of his tradition they keep going here in Massachusetts.  When I asked if I could bring anything, my friend said she wouldn’t mind something sweet.  My thoughts immediately turned to that apple cake.  Opening my cookbook I saw that there wasn’t just a Norwegian version, but also a Swedish and Danish interpretation.   While I could say that I chose the Danish variation, just to keep with the theme, the decision was really made by the fact that the Danish recipe didn’t include nuts:  if you have little ones like me, you know that any baking for lots of kids means the nut-free option is always the way to go.

While I’m no opponent of frosting, homey, “everyday” cakes like these are what I like best.  Simple, easy to put together, sweet but without leaving you feeling that you’ve overindulged.  (You know that sickly feeling and the attendant crash after eating something too laden with sugar?  We know it well…)  But even though there’s nothing ornate about this cake, it’s still lovely to look at.  The  thinly sliced apples decorating the surface, painted with melted butter, sink and nestle in while the batter rises.  The result is a fragrant and incredibly moist cake.

Danish Apple Cake (3 of 3)

I made one alteration to the basic recipe, using a vanilla bean instead of extract.  Vanilla beans are painfully expensive in the grocery store–something like $10 for three beans?  I buy my vanilla beans on ebay, where you can get some truly amazing deals.  (It sounded bizarre to me too, buying bulk beans on ebay, and if I hadn’t gotten the suggestion from Mark Bittman I don’t know if I would have taken it seriously).  Even so, they still feel like a splurge to me, and only to be used when necessary.  This is one of the instances that was worth it (and also worth the marginally extra effort it takes to remove the seeds from the bean).  Unlike a recipe for, say, chocolate chip or oatmeal cookies, where the vanilla plays a supporting role, bringing out the best of the principal flavors, here it co-stars with the apples, and using a vanilla bean instead of extract means it can carry its weight.  The aroma suffusing the house let me know I was heading down the right path.

And if you’re wondering what a Danish open house is, unfortunately I can’t tell you.  Little E had a 24 hour fever so we stayed home.  Again, those of you with kids will certainly be no stranger to these kinds of last minute cancellations.  But fortunately E recovered quickly, and at least with this cake we were able to imagine a little bit of a Danish Christmas celebration.  And I could feel a little less bad about having a few too many cookbooks.

Danish Apple Cake (Aeblekage) adapted from Beatrice Ojakangas’ The Great Scandinavian Baking Book

  • 1/2c butter at room temperature, + 2T butter, melted
  • 3/4c + 2T sugar, divided
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 vanilla bean
  • 1/4c milk
  • 1 1/2c all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 t baking powder
  • 5 Granny Smith apples, peeled and cored

Preheat the oven to 375F.

Butter a 9 inch square cake pan and line the base with a square of parchment paper cut to fit.

Cut the vanilla bean open down the center lengthwise (without cutting all the way through) and use the back of the knife to scrape out the seeds.

Cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl until well-combined.  Beat in the vanilla bean seeds.  Beat in the eggs one by one until fluffy, then beat in the milk.

Stir the flour and baking powder together in a small bowl, then stir this into the liquid mixture.  The batter will be rather thick.  With a rubber scraper, spread this into your pan.

Cut each peeled and cored apple in half and then make thin (1/4 to 1/2 inch) crosswise cuts (perpendicular to the way the apple core runs).  Hold the slices together as you transfer the entire half to the pan, keeping the shape together.  Place the halves flat side down into the batter, arranging decoratively as you work.

Brush with the melted butter and then sprinkle with the reserved sugar.  (You will have extra butter running off of the apples onto the batter).

Bake about 40 minutes until golden brown and until the apples are tender and baked through.

Danish Apple Cake (2 of 3)

Note:  tea towels from Dutch Door on etsy.

Super-Moist Sweet Potato Bread

Up until now we’ve had a very mild winter in Massachusetts, leading to a backyard full of green garlic shoots and even a few fuzzy buds appearing on our peach tree.  The cold has finally come to stay, and although we all know we’ve had a reprieve up until now and have no right to complain, we still are.

I’ve comforted myself, as you might expect, by baking.  (What, after all can feel cozier when the temperatures are dropping than to be in a warm kitchen)?  If you are feeling similarly sorry for yourselves, or if you just want to make a fantastic and (as quick breads go) healthy loaf, this is for you.

Sweet Potato Bread (2 of 2)

I adapted this from a recipe I saw on Chow.  Though I made  a few changes, the most noteworthy is that I substituted in some whole wheat pastry flour to delicious effect, and I’d probably feel safe adding even more.  Whole wheat pastry flour?  Yes:  if you’re trying to sneak in whole grain flours, whole wheat pastry flour is the ideal choice for baking quick breads and muffins–its low gluten content, similar to cake flour, results in a tender, cakey crumb.

If you are skittish (or at the very least skeptical) about using whole grains in baking, combining with sweet potato is a great way to get your bearings.  The slightly nutty flavor of whole wheat flour only brings out the tuber’s flavor, which is what really dominates.   And thanks to the sweet potato the bread is incredibly moist.   (This, even while I cut back on the milk somewhat).*

Rather than ramble on in this blog post as is often my wont, I’ll announce the winners of our giveaway!  Laura, Sarah, and Carol–congratulations, and thanks to everyone for entering, and even more for reading this space!

Sweet Potato Bread (1 of 2)

Super-Moist Sweet Potato Bread (adapted from Chow).

  • 1  cup all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the pan
  • 1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour
  • 1 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon mace (or freshly ground nutmeg)
  • 1 cup sweet potato flesh, scooped from 1-2 roasted sweet potatoes (instructions follow)
  • 2/3 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
  • 8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick), melted, plus more for coating the pan
  • 2 large eggs, at room temperature
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • scant 1/2 cup whole milk
If you haven’t already, roast the sweet potatoes:  preheat the oven to 425F, pierce each potato several times, and place on a baking sheet lined with parchment or foil.  Bake about 45m to an hour (or longer) until a knife slides through with no resistance.  (Plan to do this step enough in advance so that they have time to cool.  It’s worth roasting a few and freezing extra for later).
Preheat the oven to 350°F and arrange a rack in the middle.
Butter a 9-by-5-by-3-inch loaf pan and dust with flour, tapping out any excess.  (I also line the bottom of the pan with a very casually cut to fit rectangle of parchment paper).

In a medium bowl, stir together the flours, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and mace or nutmeg in a medium bowl.

Either in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment or using a hand mixer, beat the sweet potato flesh, granulated sugar, and brown sugar on medium speed until well combined.  Mix in the butter on low speed until smooth (low speed so as to avoid splashing melted butter).   Add the eggs one at a time, waiting until the first egg is incorporated before adding the second.   Then beat in the vanilla.

Scrape down the bowl and, on low speed, add half of the reserved flour mixture, then about half of the milk. Add the remaining flour, then the remaining milk and mix until just combined.  (Do not overbeat).

Scrape the batter into the pan and bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about an hour.  Let the bread cool in the pan for 20 minutes or so, then remove from the pan and allow to cool on a rack.

*Note that I cut back on the milk because I eliminated the pecans from the original recipe (changing the solid to liquid ratio)–my younger son is supposed to avoid nuts until he is 2 and he would not stand for being told he couldn’t have this bread.  Too much liquid in a batter can cause it to rise and then deflate in the center.  It worked out perfectly, as the pictures attest!