In Dorie Greenspan’s description of this week’s recipe choice, Popovers, she writes, “Many of us have fond memories of the messy thrill of eating popovers dripping with butter and honey.”
Popover Batch #2, Baked in Henderson, Nevada, Elevation 2190′
AlthoughI searched my personal Memory Bank very carefully, I have no such messy memories. Growing up in Manchester, Iowa, a small Midwestern farm community of 4,000 people, I don’t recall a popover ever crossing my path. As a 30-something adult, I first discovered these lovely puffy critters and enjoy them whenever the opportunity arises.
Making them myself? Really?
Mise en Place for Popover Batch #1. Question: What ingredient is missing from this photo? Answer: Eggs
Since for this week’s Tuesdays Post I would be back in Aspen (elevation 7890’), I decided to bake the popovers last Wednesday, just before leaving Nevada (elevation 2180’). While preparing my first batch, I experienced a Mise en Place-Fail. Note to Readers: If you don’t add 3 large eggs, at room temperature, to your Popover batter, the result will be hockey pucks.
JEOPARDY: Answer: Hockey Pucks. Question: What do you get when you don’t add 3 eggs to a Popover recipe?
Before leaving Nevada, I had time for one do-over and the result was Good, not Better or Best, but Good. To be honest, “Good” really doesn’t work for me. I needed a Better and Best.
The custardy interior of Batch #2, baked in Henderson, Nevada, elevation 2180′.
After arriving in Aspen, I fired off an SOS e-mail to my new friend, Marilyn Kakudo aka Piebird, a member of our Tuesdays with Dorie group, who lives in Boulder, Colorado. I consider her blog, Cook Teach Learn Grow, a must-read because she so clearly explains, through words, the art of baking. If I was going to attempt Popovers at high altitude, I needed Marilyn’s high altitude expertise.
Popover Batch #3, baked in Aspen, Colorado, elevation 7890′.
In what I now know to be true Kakudo-style, Marilyn wrote a rather lengthy instructive e-mail explaining how to bake Popovers à la Aspen. Yesterday I did just that and the result was Better. At almost 8000’, I’m okay with Better because this week’s Post does have a Best.
Colorado Popover…….Better.
The “Best” is what I discovered about “Chef Marilyn” as she is known in the Denver-area. Among our midst of dedicated home bakers (like me) are some phenomenal cooks with remarkable resumes who add so much depth to our Tuesday group. (It’s not for nothing that I was an investigative business reporter.) What I discovered is that Marilyn, who left a successful high tech career to pursue a culinary one, is in the latter group. Her food and wine credentials are impressive. As for me, I’m quite pleased and appreciative that she takes the time and makes the effort to share her considerable knowledge and experience with all of us. And, she does it very quietly.
Because I was moving back to the Colorado High Country with its high altitude baking challenges, I questioned whether I should continue baking with this Tuesday group. Considering that I think Marilyn will have my back, I’m all in.
A smokey Sunday afternoon view of the Rockies from the Aspen Mountain Club at the top of Ajax. The smoke continues to roll in from the fierce Pacific Northwest fires.
Thanks to Paula, our Buenos Aires baker and Amy, who bakes for a family of five, for hosting this week and sharing with everyone the Popover recipe, originated by the late Marian Cunningham. Cunningham, an American culinary icon, died last month at the age of 90.
The Palisade peach trees are being ambushed by the grape vines. The Grand Valley of Colorado, as this area is called, is the heart of Colorado’s ambitious and growing fruit and wine industry.
For me, carottes râpées and céleri rémoulade are the quintessential French bistro cruditiés, the fancy French word for raw salad. I’ve made these two recipes for years. Just take two rather ugly garden root vegetables, peel and shred, toss in a few extra ingredients and you’ve gone all exotic with your upcoming dinner menu.
A pound of newly-minted carrots just purchased at our Sunday Farmers Market.
Or, so I thought, asa young, rather Plain Jane cook in my kitchen. This week’s French Friday With Dorie recipe choice is Dorie’s delicious and versatile take on that café-style grated carrot salad. Serve it as a starter, side or snack. Slip it in a lunch box or pack for a picnic. It’s nutritious, filling and quickly made.
I needed a quickly-made something this week because I finally am making that long-anticipated move, at least until Thanksgiving, back to Colorado. For the past eight years my trips have been in the necessary flash-and-dash mode. I’d drive the ten-hour trip, stopping only for gas, in one day, stay in Aspen for three, and return the long albeit beautiful 510 miles the next. Each journey would end with my thinking, “Too old for this.”
This journey, no pressure, I could savor and enjoy. I left the still-darkened Henderson/Las Vegas area, as usual, at 5 A.M., the temperature was already 87 degrees. Since I lost an hour, due to the Pacific/Mountain time change, I arrived hungry in Green River, Utah at 1 P.M. While this community of less than 1000 residents may be a mecca for white water rafting (the Green River is the chief tributary of the Colorado River), the town itself is pathetically depressed with a boarded-up, for sale or rent, decapitated and delapitated main drag.
What’s not to love about Ray’s Tavern, a well-worn fixture in Green River, Utah.
Except for Ray’s Tavern. The destination-of-choice and only legitimate hang-out for, to quote Emma Lazarus, the tired, poor, hungry and huddled masses, Ray’s is a model for small town-institution. As one blogger put it, “The place is so authentic it doesn’t even have a website.” It’s a Jane and Michael Stern, Guy Fieri sort-of-place. It didn’t disappoint. Still crowded, authentic and hilarious, I sat at the 18‘ long community table to enjoy my teriyaki chicken sandwich, skins-intact fries and homemade slaw. As another blogger put it, “If for some godforsaken reason you happen to end up in Green River, Utah, then you might as well go to Ray’s Tavern.“
Two hours laterI reached my overnight destination, the tiny, vibrant Colorado community of Palisade. Population, 3,000. With its 78% sunshine average and 182-day growing season, it’s proudly billed as “The Peach Capital of Colorado”. This week-end, Palisade is strutting its fuzzy stuff with their 44th Annual Palisade Peach Festival.
Writing this, I have just checked into the Wine Country Inn, a lovely, faux-Victorian 80-room, wine-themed hotel built in 2007**. (**Nope, no perks, not free, always pay retail.) Set at the base of the Bookcliffs and next door to two wineries, the Inn is packed with Colorado peaches-on-their-mind tourists. Tonight I head to Main Street for the kick-off event, an Ice Cream Social and Street Dance. The peach sundaes are free, the Peach Queen will be crowned, recipes judged, pie-eating contests to begin, and the band will play on-and-on. Reminiscent of Manchester, Iowa, where I was raised, this is small town America at the ultimate and I couldn’t be happier. This year’s theme? “Life’s a Peach”. That’s true.
Let’s first return to this week’s recipe which can be found here. As I was saying, it’s simple. I made it Sunday to join an American hamburger and British ale for my international supper while watching the Olympics closing ceremonies. My only suggestions:
It’s easy to grate the carrots in a food processor.
One pound of carrots makes an ample supply of delicious carrot salad. The French like it plain, Dorie says, but she suggests we may add raisins, nuts and parsley. If one’s good, three is better. I added everything!
An All-American hamburger and French salad and………..
Pub Ale for a perfect supper to close the Olympics and salute the Brits for a job well done.
If possible, buy Farmer’s Market carrots with a little dirt still clinging.
In a hurry? Use the processor to grate the carrots and make the dressing.
If the carrots weep, don’t you cry, just wring them dry.
Although the French eat this “naked”, I added, at Dorie’s suggestion, raisins, roughly-cut walnuts and chopped fresh parsley this time. More nutritious. Yummy.
One pound (5 large carrots) makes “beaucoup de” (lots of) salad. It took the neighborhood to get me packed and loaded for my Colorado trip so I shared with them.
Palisade, Colorado
Wine Country Inn, Palisade, Colorado
To see what my other French Friday with Dorie colleagues grated up this week, go to this Site.
This Wednesday, August 15th, is Julia Child’s 100th birthday. Many in the food world have a “Julia” story, a casual encounter, a recipe learned, executed and conquered or memorable culinary experience. This is mine.
Dinner with Julia Child during her last visit in the mid-nineties to the Aspen Food & Wine Festival.
When I was in my 30s, living in Ames, Iowa, and obviously quite full of myself, I donated a French dinner for six to a charitable auction. The chef would be moi. I would serve the gourmet feast in the winning bidder’s home.
May I admit to many adult What-Was-I-Thinking moments? This was one.
Unfortunately, on that night my item was near the end, the bidders full of drink, and the dinner sold for $600. Today, not so much. In the early Eighties, a big chunk of change. My cooking experience? Three French cooking classes and ownership of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volumes 1 & 2. Before leaving the Auction, we set a dinner date. I had six weeks and no clue.
To lessen my anxiety, I wrote a letter to Julia explaining my predicament, imploring her to help with the menu and, because of the dinner date, requesting an answer within two weeks. (Yeah, I also cannot now believe I gave Julia Child a deadline!) I had every confidence she would answer my plea.
She did.
Julia’s long letter, now safely framed, was a personification of that extraordinary woman and a testament to everything she represented. She offered no specific food choices but rather she suggested a general food plan, explaining how to successfully prepare, prep, cook and serve it. Her letter to me could be summarized by one of her favorite quotes, “The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.” How did she know that advice was exactly what I needed to hear?
In the end, the dinner, a smashing success, was the front-page article in the following Sunday’s Des Moines Register’sSociety Section. However, lesson learned, I have never done that again.
Fast forward to Aspen, where we moved in 1988 when Michael retired from medicine. Julia often visited the annual “Aspen Food & Wine Festival” in June. When I would catch a glimpse of her, at a cooking class, a book signing or lecture, I would always run over to remind her of the letter and thank her again. She’d always be charming, as she was to everyone, but probably, with her busy schedule and hectic life, had no recall.
In the mid-nineties, Michael and I had dinner with Julia during ironically what was her last visit to the Aspen festival. She loved the festival but could no longer tolerate the altitude. For me, it was one of Life’s special moments.
Over the past thirty years, my personal life and culinary skills have been enhanced and made fuller, thanks to Julia, Lydie Marshall and Dorie Greenspan. With Julia leading the charge, through her doggedness and determination, she showed American women how to “Do Better” and “Be Better” in the kitchen and in Life. Lucky me, I was one of those women. Lydie and Dorie, with personalities of their own, soon joined the cause. Julia-Mold-Broken. My Life would have been lesser without her in it.
We all have our own vision and expectations of Afterlife and this is mine. I just know that in the past month my Michael has hooked up with Julia and Paul and they are drinking freshly squeezed orange juice in crystal glasses every morning and enjoying perfectly sliced Casaba melon when they wish.
My basil plants have gone wild. Growing like crazy. The most productive crop I’ve ever harvested. The Question? “How much pesto does one need?”
Those chefs at Food Network Magazine must be having the same problem because their September issue included a full-page layout on making basil-flavored salt. If that’s how Ina and Bobby and Giada and Guy are utilizing their extra basil, count me in. This week, I produced a personal cache of my own. Easy.
Put 1 cup of basil leaves, packed, and 1/2 cup of kosher salt into your food processor.
Wash Basil leaves carefully, preventing bruising, and dry thoroughly with a paper towel. Place leaves and 1/2 cup of salt in your food processor. Pulse about 12 times. Spread the mixture on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake at 225 degrees until dry for 30 to 40 minutes. (I baked my mixture for 30 minutes and then turned off the oven for 10 more minutes.)
Let cool, return mixture to your processor and pulse again 6 to 8 times to create a fine powder. Pour it through a mesh strainer.
Twelve pulses later and you’re half-way to making salt.
Use to flavor everything from the obvious, fresh tomatoes and mozzarella, to sauces and salad dressings to meats, poultry and fish to stir-fry dishes to popcorn to Bloody Marys or other drinks.
Bake for 30 miinutes at 225 degrees, turn off the oven, bake for another 10 minutes. If not dry enough to your liking, bake longer. Midway through, toss the salt, breaking up clumps.
This process can be adjusted to make any flavored salt and I am going to try making olive salt as well as saffron-flavored salt next. If you are interested in knowing more about cooking with the world’s favorite seasoning, may I suggest SALT by Valerie Aikman-Smith. Or, go to The Meadow, a small speciality food purveyor (salts) located in Portland, Oregon, and the West Village, New York City. I’ve ordered products from them on line with great results.
“Salt has been a prized possession since the beginning of civilization,” Aikman-Smith writes. It was once a form of currency and wars have been won and lost over it. Nations have been taxed on their salt. In China, salt tax revenues were used to build the Great Wall. There are salt routes all over the world that were used to transport salt from continent to continent. At one time salt was so precious it was traded ounce for ounce with gold.”
Basil-flavored Salt can be used in many different foods, given as a gift, or included in your holiday food baskets.
“A wise woman puts a grain of sugar into everything she says to a man, and takes a grain of salt with everything he says to her.” Helen Rowland (English-American writer, 1876-1950)
Dry-Fried Pepper and Salt Shimp, a classic Chinese entrée that could bring home its own Gold Medal.
Today’s Wok Wednesday recipe choice has been a brain-buster for me. Not only is this dish bursting with flavor, but it sent my mind reeling with menu variations, those “with this I can do that” moments. While that may be a “Well, duh” moment for most of you, please understand that I’m a by-the-book cook. Really, I’m a by-the-book, black and white, follow-the-rules Person. My Goal? Get to GRAY.
When joining Wok Wednesdays I also thought I was introducing myself to a cuisine which I could successfully master and utilize portion control. Unless entertaining, I cook for “one” and am not particularly fond of never-ending leftovers (remember, I don’t improvise) or frozen anything. With today’s recipe, I was able to cut it in half, without sacrificing flavor.
I was able to cut the recipe in half, maintain the flavor and integrity of the dish, and still have leftovers for one additinal meal.
Although I love Chinese food, enjoying it in restaurants and to-go, I’ve not done homemade successfully. Grace Young’s cookbook, “Stir-Frying To The Sky’s Edge” is impressive and well-written. With her guidance, perhaps, I thought I could conquer the basics and move on to at-home Chinese glory. Surprisingly, Grace also responds to each WW participant’s Post, answering questions, pointing out problems and encouraging novices. Last week I received an e-mail, a comment and a Tweet from her. I didn’t even know I belonged to Twitter!!!
My suggestion? Buy the book. You’re welcome.
This week we made Classic Dry-Fried Pepper and Salt Shrimp. DO NOT MISS TRYING THIS. The entire recipe can be found on Grace’s own Site, http://www.graceyoung.com/recipes/. Although Dry Stir-Frying, a new technique for me, seems like an oxymoron, it’s actually classically Chinese and a stir-fry intended to have only enough sauce to cling to the main ingredients. Love that, don’t you? Simple to make. Few Ingredients. So satisfying.
Besides a tiny amount of salt, pepper, and sugar, our only other flavor friends are garlic, ginger, and chili.
And, this week, thanks to my daughter, Melissa, who was horrified to read that I was woking with a skillet, I received a new, gorgeous wok. Don’t you just love to embarrass your kids? Thanks, Mis.
My question to you, Grace, is about Brining. Because I was using frozen shrimp and dry cooking it, I first put it in a cold, sugar water Brine for 20 minutes. Then, I also swished it two times for 30 seconds each in salt water as you specified. I eliminated the sugar in your recipe. I thought the sugar brine would pop the flavor more. Any thoughts on that?
Beginning with a 20-minute sugar brine, a going-out-on-a-limb moment for me since Grace didn’t specify brining in her recipe.
Last night I enjoyed my Shrimp with plain rice and Tsingtau, my favorite Chinese beer. I could not have been happier. Tonight, as I march onward to GRAY, I’m using my few leftovers to make a New Orleans Shrimp Po’ Boy, Chinese-style.
