It is Fall: Hungarian Mushroom Soup and Apple Pies

It is October; that Autumnal smell is in the air. 

Here in the Wasatch mountains, the changing of the seasons is particularly beautiful with the Rocky Mountain shrubs and oaks turning all manner of bright, warm colors, the mums blooming fervently, and the Utah gardens and orchards bountiful with the many fruits of Fall.  The apples are particularly delicious and abundant right now, and when we went to buy our pumpkins last week after school we couldn't resist buying a basket of Golden Delicious (literally and figuratively).  I promised Roman we'd bake his Daddy an apple pie, one of his favorite desserts, and maybe an apple turnover if there was leftover crust.  Roman agreed he'd help peel the apples.

Every year I look forward to Fall.  Halloween is tied for my favorite holiday with Christmas and at our house it is a rite of sorts to bring out the Halloween decorations and reminisce about them as we put them up.  We have the little mummy and skeleton bodies our jack-o-lanterns sit on, my witchy-witch hat (worn to hand out candy every year), Matt's extremely frightening Meatloafesque-skull mask (used to frighten neighborhood teenagers every year), Roman's "spirit" which hangs from a tree, bats, ghosts and all other manner of spooky things.  This year we bought a blow-up witch to add to the mix as well as a cackling witch figurine to replace a favorite cackling bobble head somehow lost in the mix.  I'm fairly certain our neighbors think we're pagans, but I somewhat delight in the outrage.

But Autumn isn't all ghouls and candy handouts.  In October we also look forward to buying our pumpkins and picking or buying local apples.  I was happily surprised to find that the area surrounding Salt Lake City is full of small farms and orchards.  In fact, in Ogden, our small city, most houses have at least one fruit tree and often a large home garden for the summer.  When we moved into our house I spotted a peach tree (sadly it is diseased) and we had about 6 rows of corn growing in our small allotment (more than enough for the entire summer for us and our neighbors), planted for us by the previous owners.  While the corn is gone now, everyone around us is still reaping the harvests of stone-fruit trees, squashes, and apples.  I can't say I mind this at all.

I've been told that this Utah practice of "grow your own" has something to do with the prevalent Mormon culture of (somewhat extreme) preparedness.  One of the first times Matt came to our new house to collect mail before we moved in, he found a small flier from a man in the neighborhood requesting all our personal information, that of our children as well as an itemized list of all the survival gear and food / water stores we had in our home.  Sooo, that went straight into the trash because, well, you know, identity theft.  But when we mentioned it to our neighbors months later they explained one person is assigned to each area by the city (and church) to keep tabs on every person and their survival stores.  You know, "just in case the mountain ever comes down on us," as my neighbor put it.  Way to make me feel like a paranoid jerk. :)  I assume everyone preserves and pickles the bounties of their gardens and while I'm  not sure we'll start hoarding canned goods and heat blankets, I think maybe I'll partake in the summer garden madness next year to a level I've never done before.  I've always wanted to grow eggplant.

So today I made the apple pie, and there was extra crust so I went ahead and made what came to be a lovely little apple turnover too.  The air was particularly crisp and so I thought a nice Hungarian Mushroom soup and some crusty bread would pair well.  I had this soup for the first time a week ago at a local deli called Berlin's.  Their sandwiches are so-so, but this soup, one I'd never heard of, was excellent and is very easy to replicate at home.  I added kielbasa to it to make it slightly heartier and for the meat-beast my husband tends to be.  I'll include the recipe for the soup below but as far as the apple pie, all I've got are tantalizing pictures of the butteriest, flakiest crust I've ever made.  We've yet to determine whether the dessert is improved by adding pecans.  As a Texas girl at heart, I can't see how it wouldn't be.  And how the heck did that not occur to me sooner?!

Happy Fall everyone!  To many delicious treats coming our way, no doubt.

*  *  *

Hungarian Mushroom Soup 

Serves 4-6

 

This soup's list of ingredients feels unorthodox to me.  How did Hungarian soup end up using soy sauce?  Don't question a good thing, my friends.  The addition of kielbasa was mine.  While tasty, it was totally unnecessary.  If you chop your mushrooms thickly they are just as good as meat - one of the many reasons I am a complete mushroom fiend.  This was delicious with white mushrooms, but I can only imagine that it would be elevated to superb with a mix of wild mushrooms.  Give it a try with some nice crusty bread.  

A perfect autumnal delight.

*  *  *

Ingredients

1 lb white mushrooms, sliced thickly (about 3-4 slices per mushroom)

1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 lb kielbasa, diced (OPTIONAL)
1/4 cup flour
2-3 tbsps butter
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 1/2 - 2 tbsps Paprika
2 tsp dried dill (if using fresh, double the amount)
1 tbsp soy sauce (yes, weird!)
 4-5 cups chicken stock or water (if you use water either add a lot more salt or chicken bouillon)
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup sour cream (OPTIONAL)
1/2 lemon, juiced
fresh dill to garnish (optional)


Method

1. Heat the oil and butter in a large pot over medium heat until butter is melted.  

2. Add the onions, mushrooms and kielbasa (if using) and cook, stirring occasionally, over medium-high heat until the sausage is somewhat caramelized and the mushrooms have begun to brown and released their juices.  This will take about 10 minutes or so.

3. To the pot, add the flour and paprika and let it cook for 1-2 minutes, creating a roux.  Do not let it burn or get too dark - turn the heat down if necessary.

4. Add the broth, dill and soy sauce and bring the mixture to a boil.  Once boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, allowing the soup to thicken and reduce.  This will concentrate the flavors.

5. Season generously with salt and pepper and mix in the milk, sour cream and lemon juice.

6. Remove from heat.  Garnish with more dill and serve with crusty bread or garlic crostini. YUM.

Another spooky acquisition this year.

Plenty of Ottolenghi & A Word to the Sage

Mushrooms & Herb Polenta from Plenty by Ottolenghi

I have something to confess.   A relatively major thing, as foody confessions go.  There's something I've been keeping to myself for several years now that I dared not utter but was forced to the forefront of my mind a few months ago when I randomly purchased a new cookbook.

I'd been wanting it for a while but I decided to finally just go out and buy Plenty when I saw it at a highly aesthetically pleasing little shop on the main street in Camden, ME on a whimsical weekend getaway in the fall.  I ordered it off Amazon as soon as I got home.  I just couldn't stand not having that picture of the eggplants (slathered in some sort of deliciously light yoghurty-sauce and sprinkled with thyme, zatar and pomegranate seeds, if you must know) as part of my daily visual binge.

I flipped through it voraciously as soon as it came.  And I oohed and ahhhhed over the lovely, intensely creative vegetarian recipes which literally jump off the page at you.  I'd heard of Ottolenghi for so long.  First, just because I lived in London, of course (they're in Kensington, Notting Hill, Belgravia...).  Then because it was somewhat of a rival to Melrose & Morgan, the place across the street from the bakery I worked at in Primrose Hill where I generally got my lunch (to this day I often dream of their beef wellington).  And finally because a friend of mine was obsessed by their style of cooking and was going on about the new book coming out and how she'd pre-ordered it.  I scoffed.  All-natural ingredient-driven delis with modern lighting, bright white platters and on-the-edge-of-acceptable-vegetarian-salads are kind of "a thing" in London.  They're almost common, ironically.  It's like they're the British upper-crust's answer to the working man's pub on every corner: "So, you dare to serve microwaved cottage pie with frozen chips?  Take THAT scoundrels!"  

Vibrant Vegetable Recipes - as Ottolenghi's Plenty is described - have arrived.

* * *

Yottam Ottolenghi is Israeli and, surprisingly, not a vegetarian (as Plenty's recipes and his weekly column in The Guardian would suggest).  I don't know much about Israeli food, though I do know a fair bit about the Mediterranean and I'm guessing he's going for a fusion of those two with light, modern British cuisine.  I admire the use of local, fresh ingredients and the fact that everything is made from scratch by them every single day.  The only problem I often find with modern, all-vegetarian takes is that they often look better than they taste.  It seems to me that in an effort to use as many fresh, raw, unique ingredients as possible, the flavor combinations can often cross the line a little too far into the purely "artsy-fartsy" side of food, straying every-so-much from the purely "tasty-wasty" side of things.  (I mean, in all honest, I have never tasted a dish where plain quinoa featured prominently that I loved.) 

Despite my misgivings, I must admit that I was spoiled for choice with Plenty.  It covers all the seasonal bases and I had no problem finding  a warm, inviting Fall or Winter dish.  In the end I settled on a deceptively simple recipe: Mushroom and Herb Polenta.

I had all the ingredients in the fridge and any recipe that includes more than one type of mushroom in copious amounts makes it to the table at my house.  I was also especially taken by the idea of creating a beautiful slab of polenta.*  Just so aesthetically appealing.  But anyway, the only thing I was missing was the chervil.  After a quick google search I realized you can substitute a combination of parsley and sage for it and felt happy that I finally had a reason to cut into that giant, beautiful sage bush growing in my backyard before the first frost.  Except for one thing - and here's where the confession comes in - I hate sage.

What possessed me to grab it anyway?  What made me think that instead of using the 1/8 tsp the website suggested I cold use the 4-5 full sage leaves I greedily grabbed?  Was it my hopeful trust in Ottolenghi's magic chef wand?  Was it that I thought maybe this would be the dish that converted me?  It's all beyond me.  I grabbed it anyway.  Yes, I'm a beast.  

I poured my heart into that recipe, chopping up a fragrant herbal storm, conjuring and channeling the spirit of London's most sophisticated, most natural eateries - and what resulted was beautiful.  Truly beautiful.  A purely aesthetic masterpiece of creamy polenta with roasted, autumnal mushrooms.  A delightful thing to look at, and one which Matthew found me gleefully photographing in the backyard as he got home from work.  

But back at the dinner table, I knew something had gone awry.

I don't know why I don't like sage!  I never have.  Maybe in a minute quantity I can kind-of stand it but to me it just tastes like badly-cooked liver.  Badly-cooked liver in the deceptively enticing form of a lovely, velvety leaf.  A perfectly shaped leaf that is iconic for many dishes such as Saltimbocca alla Romana in which it serves as a garnish and seasoning, or traditional Christmas sausage stuffing.  And yet, I just don't get it.  It ruined the dish for me and I am convinced the chervil would have done the same.  If I ever cook this again (which I might), I'd leave it out altogether.

Ottolenghi prides itself on bold, fresh flavors.  This polenta certainly delivers that and a little too much more.  I can't say I agree with this particular flavor combination but...I can't wait to try another recipe.  And maybe even get the first cookbook. :) 

*In the book it's served on a wooden board (which, if I'd had a big enough one I would have done).

November's a Turkey.

November is a Turkey.  

A fickle creature who hides in the background for most of the year and then suddenly starts running around ubiquitously, flaunting all sorts of colorful, once-hidden feathers, fattening itself - and you - up for a closely-guarded and fiercely-defended couple of weeks a year.  One day it's Halloween, all pumpkins and skeletons, and the next there's flocks of surprisingly nimble birds with a waddle wreaking havoc on rural roads while subconsciously also conjuring images of crispy roast skin and giblet gravy to go a-dancing sugar-plum-style inside our little heads.  The world seems to, overnight, go into orange-yellow-red-and-brown overdrive.  The trees are holding on for dear life and yet screaming with colors you would otherwise swear couldn't exist in nature (at least not on "dying" leaves anyway) and it's sensory overload with the crunching and raking of leaves and the howling of the dry autumn wind and the herds of squirrels hoarding acorns and chestnuts for the winter to come.  There is no desert here (well, technically there is) - and Roman seems perfectly happy to allow himself to be overwhelmed and full submerged into the many splendid colors of this cozy month, leaving Abu Dhabi full and firmly in the past.  

I must admit the whole thing is paradoxically nostalgic for me.  I grew up Mexican in a place where the leaves go from green to dead in a month's time.  Nothing pretty about it.  And the last Thanksgiving we had was in a desert where we were outnumbered by Brits, Kiwis and Arabs and it was probably 80 degrees outside (no trees there, for the record).  And yet, to me, November is always, absolutely, a Turkey.

This year we are hosting Matt's parents at our house for Thanksgiving.  I am so excited - and not because this is the first time I'll be cooking up a Turkey Day meal by myself, but because it's the first time I'll be doing it for Matt's family since we've always celebrated at his parents' house when we're in the States (if I wasn't at home).  Matt's parents are excellent cooks and have sophisticated appreciation for good food, so the heat is on.  And they also have the advantage that they are native New Englanders: there's just something so authentic and true about the way New Englanders cook Thanksgiving.  It almost feels like a natural extension of the way they normally eat - as if the Pilgrims and Indians have breathed a special breath of true-ness to the food that grows and is eaten here.

I've had a lot of fun decorating the house for Thanksgiving, with a little help from Roman.  I went cheesy and did the Thanksgiving Hand-Turkey with him one day as a craft project.  I kept one for myself and sent one to the grandparents.  Now I need to teach him to gobble and print out one of those color-your-own-Indian-feather-band things for the night-of. :)

* * *

The Menu

For my part, I've decided to go hardcore this year: I am buying a Turkey from a local Maine farm (Alewive's Brooks Farm in Cape Elizabeth) that grows them free-range.  It's not a heritage bird or anything but they only raise 200 a year and, hey, at least it's a slight deviation (improvement?) from my usual grocery store Butterball.  I'm interested to see if it really does taste better, especially given that it costs 5-times as much.

To make sure I don't ruin the bird, I am using my tried-and-tested method of religiously following Delia Smith's "Turkey Timeline."  For those of you who don't know Delia, she is the British Julia Child.  And even though her article is for Christmas Turkey (the Brits don't celebrate Thanksgiving, duh), it is such an easy, step-by-step timeline and ensures I am totally organized the day of.  You can use her traditional recipes (I love the use of bacon rashers to keep the breast moist) or substitute your own recipe.  Either way, it always works perfectly.  Take note, newbies.

Otherwise, I'm attempting to do a combination of Southern and Northern classics with the menu.  Here it is in theoretical form.  We'll see how much I actually manage to pull off well but at least I know that nobody will go hungry on my watch. :)

* * *

Appetizers:

Homemade Pork Rilletes * (adapted the recipe) served with

Homemade Apricot & Sour Cherry Chutney* (adapted the recipe)

Baguette Toasts

Trois Petits Cochons Sour Cornichons

some stinkily delicious Pont L'Eveque

and some Raclette for good measure

Cocktails / Drinks:

Cognac Sparklers

Cider Smash

Mains:
Lemon-Herb Roasted Turkey & Giblet Gravy

My favorite Mushroom Stuffing

Sides:

Sweet Potato Souffle (southern style baby!)

Kentucky Corn Pudding (the not-so-secret "secret" recipe)

Roasted Brussel Sprouts with Bacon

Mashed Potatoes

Homemade Jellied Cranberry Sauce with Apple*

Texas Roadhouse Rolls (yeah buddy!) & copious amounts of their cinnamon butter

Desserts:

That Amazing Bacon Apple Pie

Martha Stewart's Pumpkin Mousse Pie*

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever. Period.

Maybe: Mexican Chocolate Tarte with Cinnamon-Spiced Pecans*
Maybe: Deep Dark Chocolate Cookies*

*Asterisks denote recipes I've never tried before.  Say a little prayer for me.

Happy Halloween from Romathor (who also hates candy corn)!

 

Happy Halloween from our little Viking Warrior*!  

There will be much devouring of sweet things and much crashing in a sugar-induced coma afterwards.

Life will be as it should be. :)

So, I'm doing my Halloween post a little early this year mostly because I couldn't wait to share Roman's costume but also because, let's face it, nobody cares about Halloween the day after :)

* * *

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays and also one that I have not been able to celebrate properly for years due to our non-American residence.  Let me tell you, Trick-or-Treating in the balmy Abu Dhabi weather had its perks but it definitely had its shortcomings - for one, Halloween was postponed until the first weekend in November last year due to the death of a Sheikh.  Not my cup of Arabic coffee.  

But it's not just the candy and dressing up that I love.  I love the whole run-up to Halloween with the candy-stashing, the decorating, the pumpkin carving (and of course pumpkin seed roasting!) and generally obsessing over autumnal and spooky things, something in short supply in the Middle East.  Here in New England, though, it really looks and feels spooky at this time of year with crunchy leaves, howling winds, and rustling woods everywhere you look, so it makes Roman's real "conscious" experience of the holiday all the more special.

I have to admit, though, that these days I'm not so involved in what used to be my very favorite part of Halloween: dressing up.  At least, not for myself.  I had so much fun choosing Roman's costume this year and I loved being able to make it myself too now that I have a sewing machine.  Growing up my mom always made our costumes and though I have to admit that sometimes I wished we could go to the store and buy the nice pre-made ones, looking back I see that our costumes were always that much cooler because they were unique.  I get it now and fully intend to inflict the same reality on my children.  I mean, I've had some pretty crazy costumes in my day (A Geisha, Uncle Fester and The London Eye(ball), for example) and I am proud to say that none of them were slinky, sexy or flaunty, and that, in fact, the weird ones weren't imposed on me by an over-imaginative mother - they were entirely my choice and sometimes to my own detriment (yes, someone called me a Condom when I dressed up as Uncle Fester and yes that did scar me). 

Understanding "costumes" and Halloween has been a real epiphany. :)

For the first time this year Roman really gets Halloween.  He is as much if not more of a devotee as me.  Every store we go into the request is loud and clear: "Can we go see the Halloween stuff?"  And then he makes me try on 20 different masks, push the buttons on all the dancing vampires / ghosts / witches and points out all the different kinds and colors of trick-or-treating pumpkins.  The clerks LOVE me.  It's actually really cute but after about the 30th time I started lying and saying that the masks were sleeping because too many people tried them on and they were tired.  So sue me.  The kid is obsessed!  Besides, I don't want him having some freaky preoccupation with the morbid.  On the other hand, I think it has been a serious epiphany for Roman to understand what it means to "dress up" or pretend to be something else.  I think next year will be really cool because I have a feeling he'll have a very definite opinion on what he wants to dress up as, whereas this year the Viking was allowed because he just didn't get it yet.

But sentimental discoveries aside, let's get to the point of Halloween: everyone likes Halloween because of the candy.  No matter how many silly commercials or kids' shows try to tout the idea of "healthy" Halloween snacks, it's just utter BS.  Nobody eats apples on Halloween.  Nobody wants nuts in their bag.  And nobody actually eats the "home-baked oatmeal pumpkin cookies."  I mean, come on, that's just bad!  

So not all Halloween candy is created equal.  We know this.  

And actually just recently Matt and I had a serious discussion regarding a traditional Halloween candy that we find utterly puzzling: Candy Corn.  He doesn't like candy corn.  I HATE candy corn.  Even Roman won't eat it!  In fact, between the two of us, we couldn't think of a single person who actually does like it.  We have started to wonder if it's just one of those old-timey things that people gave out and ate on Halloewen because they didn't have Snickers bars around back then.  Interestingly, the Nick Jr. Moose seems to agree.

Candy Corn nightmares aside, over the many years of relentlessly stalking down every single light-on-pumpkin-out-ghoulish-creature-in-the-corner-house in the neighborhood, I've become a connoisseur of Halloween candy - the good, the bad and the downright ugly.  What makes you smile, what makes you cry, and what makes it worth shoving the little fairy next to you to the ground ninja-style to get into that plastic cauldron first?  Here they are in Top 5 form.

* * *

Brenda's Top 5 Halloween Treats

Because I have no qualms about taking down the little fairy princess if I have to.

5. The Holy Trinity of Halloween Mini-Candy Bars: Snickers, Three Musketeers, and Almond Joy (Milky Way?)

You know you're in a home of generosity when you see these pricey little guys in the treat bowl.  Unless a 1 or 2 piece minimum has been established by your patron, dig in brotha' because chances are the guy next door will have something nasty like Dots or unmarked orange and black taffy things on his plate.  Milky Way is kind of an honorable mention. I prefer Almond Joy but I know that's probably not the norm.

4. BlowPops or Tootsie Pops

I mean the full-size ones and I would take BlowPops over Tootsie any day but would settle for either over DumDums.  Admittedly, I love DumDums (especially the thrill of the mystery DumDum) but you just cannot pass up that sugary bubble gum interior (or the chance to mimick the ridiculous owl who asks how many licks it takes to get to the center :)).

3. SweeTARTS or Smarties

I am a sour-candy fiend.  I could eat sour stuff all day long but on Halloween my choices are limited in that department.  Almost nobody gives out Warheads or Nerds these days (though those are high on the longer list of awesome Halloween candy), so the next best thing, and  all nostalgically-packaged-to-boot are SweeTARTS and Smarties.  I LOVE the crinkly wrapping.  I love that you get to eat them one little coinlet at a time in both cases.  I love that they are sweet but sour.  Ah, I just love them.

2. Hershey's Miniatures

Back in the day I was quick with the eye and the hand in getting the Mr. Goodbar before all the other kids in my trick-or-treating group.  It was a fight for survival.  The Goodbar, the Krackel, or the Dark Chocolate.  Always good, and kept well in the closet stash for the next few months leading up to Christmas.  Besides, am I alone in believing these are literally the perfect size piece of chocolate?  Not too much that you feel like a pig.  Small enough to justify more than one.  Halloween candy in Platonic form, really.

1. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups - The Big Ones.

Nothing sets the Halloweener's heart a-racing like the sight of that bright Orange wrapper.  We all know what it is - the big single-serving Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.  A veritable Holy Grail of candy - something so utterly decadent and wonderful (unless you have peanut allergies) that you almost want to eat it before you get home so you don't have to split the difference with your kid sister (sorry Caaa).  Sure, we all like the little ones wrapped in their golden foil, usually half-smushed by the time you get home, but you really feel like you did your parents proud when you get The Big One.  The combo of peanuts and chocolate is the perfect, sticky, messy Halloween indulgence and my favorite treat of all. :) 

* * *

Happy Trick-or-Treating and Many a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup to You All!

* * *

* For Roman's costume this year I used a grey jogging suit from Wal-Mart as a basis and then sewed the brown vest and boot covers you see from furiously fuzzy remainders I found at Joann's.  I used his rain boots as a pattern for making the boots which have no bottom and a long felt section at the top which folds into the top of the boot, keeping it in place.  Roman has been wearing the boots around the house and in public for well over a month, so I think they are a hit and am considering making other variations including green monster feet :)

Yeti Feet.

Autumnal Cravings Indulged: Home-picked Dutch Apple Pie with Bacony Crumble

Apple picking is one of those things.  It's one of those things that is so basic and seems so unquestionably part of Fall that surely everyone must have done it at some point.  But I never had.  Despite knowing Johnny Appleseed's song by heart, and despite having eaten a Granny Smith in my lunch every day for the better part of my childhood, I had never picked an apple from a tree, really, until a few weeks ago.  That wrong had to be righted (word?!).  Luckily here in New England - it's the thing to do in the fall (pick apples? right wrongs? both.).  So when Roman's school put together a little child-parent apple-picking outing to a local family-run Cumberland Farm - Orchard Hill Farm -, we all jumped at the chance.

old-timey apple sorter

The farm itself was quaint as can be, with a little farm house full of freshly baked apple cider donuts, several varieties of other apple baked goods, souvenirs, old-timey toys and fresh apple cider.  They had an old fashioned apple sorter, pumpkins for sale, and bags to collect apples in for relatively cheap prices.  They also offered a fun hayride through the orchard pulled by a beautifully restored 1951 John Deere tractor.  The tour guide was one of their sons; he was hilarious with his monotone delivery of the orchard-history-apple-guide spiel and odd joke. 

keeping the doctor away

We all thoroughly enjoyed it, but especially Roman, who after 5 minutes of picking went straight into apple-devouring mode.  He would take one bite, drop the apple and run to the next tree, despite our efforts to stop him.  In the end he ate 3 whole apples on his own: "That should keep the doctor away for at least 3 days" said another parent. :)

The orchard boasted several types of apples: Granny Smith, Mcintosh, Cortland, Golden Delicious, Red Delicious and more.  I made sure to get a variety with a heavy emphasis on the Granny Smiths and Cortlands which make awesome pies.  And speaking of awesome apple pies, I made the best ever apple pie with our bountiful harvest, and here is the recipe along with some pictures of Roman's antics.

* * *

Dutch Apple Pie with Bacony Crumble

Serves 6-8

I have now fully jumped on the bacon-in-dessert train.   And after this dessert, I am actually honking the horn and shoveling the coal too.  :)  There is bacon only in the special crumble that typically goes on top of a Dutch Apple Pie (as opposed to the double-crust American one), so you can easily omit it without sacrificing any flavor, but I say go for it.  If Decadence is your game, this apple pie is your new Game. 

I combined two recipes to make my pie adding bits and pieces of my own as I went along, so I owe them a mention: Dutch Apple Pie and Bacon Apple Pie.  I am also now toying with the idea of somehow involving cheddar cheese in the crumble - reminiscent of my cheesey apple cobbler.  Ah, how I love to combine savory and sweet!

Ingredients
1 homemade or pre-made crust for 9" pie pan:  

(great crust recipe with a cool trick here)

Apple Filling

(I always eyeball the spices so go with what you like)

4-5 cups of apples, chopped and peeled (half Granny Smith, half Mcintosh)
1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 tbsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground black pepper (semi-coarsely ground)

fruits of our labor

pinch of nutmeg

pinch of ground giner

pinch of allspice

1 ground clove (a small pinch)

1/4 salt 

1 tbsp all-purpose flour

1/2 cup heavy cream (optional)

3 tbsp butter

Crumble

6 strips applewood-smoked bacon (or whatever you have on hand), fried until crisp then chopped into small pieces

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup light brown sugar

Pinch of finely ground black pepper

1 stick unsalted butter, chilled and cut into ¼-inch cubes

Method

1. Preheat oven to 375F.  Roll out the crust into a 12-inch circle and loosely place on pie dish allowing a 1/2-inch overhang all around and trimming as necessary.  Crimp the edges decoratively.  Poke holes in the bottom and sides of the crust with a fork then place foil over it folding the edges over the edge of the crust for protection.  Then put baking beads or a smaller glass pie dish on top of the foil and bake the crust in lower part of the oven for about 20 minutes or until it looks light and dry in color.  Increase the temperature to 425F.

Note: you may have to bake it less time.  Keep an eye on it as you don't want the crust to brown or it will burn when you bake it with the filling and crumble.

2. Make the filling by combining all the ingredients except the cream and butter in a large bowl, tossing until well covered.  Then melt the butter in a saucepan and when the foaming has subsided, add the apples.  Cook covered for 10-15 minutes until tender and a caramel sauce starts to form.  Add the cream and bring to a boil uncovered and simmer until the sauce is reduced to a caramely thickness.  The granny smith apples will hold their shape while the mcintoshes will start to break down a little.  Remove from heat and set aside, allowing to cool.

3. Make the crumble by combining the flower and sugar in a bowl.  Next add the butter and use fingers or a pastry cutter to cut the two together until pea-sized crumbs form throughout.  Next add the chopped, cooled bacon to the mix, evenly combining.

4.  Pour the semi-cool apple mixture into the crust and spread out evenly.  Put the crumble mixture on top and bake at 425F for 10-20 minutes or until the topping and crust are golden brown.  If your crust starts to brown too much, use foil to cover the pie edges and continue baking.

Enjoy!  Pickers can be choosers :)

Fall-time Fricassees: Autumn & Chanterelles

Fricassee of Chanterelles with Egg Tagliatelle

There are so many things to love about this time of year.  September and October in the middle latitudes are bountiful - not only in that late-summer, early-autumn-harvest kind of way either.  The climate changes in a pretty marked manner, not entirely for the worse.  As sad as I always am to say goodbye to summer, the Autumn is the earth's way of saying, "Come on, it's not all bad!"

In Autumn I start craving all sorts of fall-y things like sweet and savory pies of every sort, squashes and pumpkins, and mushrooms galore.  Ah, my crazy love affair with mushrooms.  It never ends, nor does it vaguely begin to wain.  It's like a hopeless addiction.  Proof of which is the fact that despite the painful $19.99/lb price tag, I cannot help myself from going for a small bag of Chanterelles at Whole Foods these days.  It's almost too much to ask myself - like I'm doing my family an active disservice by NOT buying them these meaty, yellow-y, most-definitely-autumnal mushrooms right now. 

I've had Chanterelles on the brain for a while now.  A couple of weeks ago we went to a fantastic dinner double-date at Bresca in downtown Portland.  One of their starter choices was a wild mushroom (locally foraged, btw) souffle.  That night was a classic example of my tendency to overthink my menu choices.  It was obvous that I should have gotten it from the moment I saw the menu but instead I opted for the "Braised Tuscan Black Kale with a 6 minute egg, crispy pancetta, kombu butter, and charred multi grain bread."  It was delicious.  But it was no Chanterelle souffle.  Maybe that's why I'm still obsessing over the mushrooms.

Either way, in my latest Bon Appetit magazine was a recipe for Fricassee of Chanterelles, and it looked good enough (even better than that, actually) to eat based solely on the picture.  I was enticed all the more once I read the recipe.  So I broke down and indulged my grubby little hands in some Whole Foods foraging.  It was absolutely worthwhile.  I highly recommend it.  Even Roman ate it!  Autumnal indulgence #1: check.  If you can find fresh papardelle I would say go for those over tagliatelle (it's all I could get last-minute).

Now for my top five other Fall-time Fricassees - things that make this time of year worth living for, not just just living in.

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My Top 5 Favorite Fall-time Fricassees!

 take that as you will

All done!

5. The Fairs / Festivals are coming.

It seems like literally every single day we find out about a new festival or carnival going on in the next town over.  This week is the apparently infamous Cumberland Fair which we will hopefully be hitting up tomorrow evening for some rides and good Fall food.  The Fryburg Fair is coming up and this past weekend was some kind of Gardner's fair where all they have is Maine-produced food.  Apparently they didn't serve coffee for a couple of years because there isn't any native Maine coffee!  Kinda neat.

4. The Foliage (already!)

There is one tree on our street that is painfully beautiful already with its bright red and orange leaves.  Having taken a drive through the countryside this weekend I can say it is the exception at this point in time, but yes, the foliage is coming!  The foliage is coming!  Don't you want to come visit me? :)

3. Fantastic Apples & Orchard

This past weekend we went apple picking with Roman and his nursery school.  It is one of those things I've wanted to do since I first heard about Johnny Appleseed when I was in elementary school.  If there are apple orchards in Texas we never went.  I had so much fun seeing Roman run around eating about as many apples as he could hold.  And the orchard was just beautiful.  Pictures to come.

2. The Freakish Pumpkins

We were going out for a "family dinner" the other night at the Longhorn Steakhouse (yes, it has come to that) in South Portland when a small pick-up truck drove by with the largest pumpkin I've seen in my entire life.  Roman and I jumped off the car and ran after him.  He happily allowed Roman to jump up on the bed and pose with the pumpkin.  He'd just come from one of the many fairs where he'd won 1st place for largest pumpkin in Maine: 950lbs my friends!  Crazy freakishness. :)

1. Halloween!

Ahhhhhh!  I LOVE Halloween!  It is one of the many reasons I am particularly happy to be back in the US after our 5 year hiatus.  Let me tell you, Halloween in Abu Dhabi sucked.  Especially because some Sheikh died the day before and our neighborhood promptly "postponed" trick-or-treating until the first weekend in November due to a week of national mourning.  What the hell is that?!  Anyway, I've been diligently slaving away on my Viking Sewing Machine making Roman his first-ever homemade Halloween costume.  It's super cute.  No, actually, it's so much more than that.  But we'll save that juicy tidbit for another post. :)

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And on a tangentially related note, Matt and I are heading to Prague this coming week for our first-ever Roman-less vacation (thank you In-Laws!).  I have a lot to update on when we get back so hopefully that means my posts will be a little more frequent.  Until then, go buy some mushrooms and make me proud!

Something to be Thankful for.

Don't hate me because my lattice work is beautiful.

This year we were in Abu Dhabi for Thanksgiving and we had the good fortune of being invited to a fellow American's house to celebrate, along with some Kiwi friends who were very much looking forward to their first Thanksgiving ever.  We had Native American headbands for the kids, Turkey coloring sheets and an abundant buffet line-up.  The dinner went off without a hitch and even though we celebrated on a Friday, there was no football, and we rounded off the evening with one child projectile vomiting all over her dad and half the table, there was still enough good cheer to watch a couple of rounds of hilarious SNL skits and gorge on delicious desserts.

I made the Turkey, stuffing and gravy, as well as corn pudding and a cherry pie (Matt's favorite).  Luckily there were no huge train wrecks in my food offering, and in fact everything turned out great.  As if wonderful friends and family weren't a good enough reason to be grateful, that definitely is. The cherry pie filling sold here is different from the one we like in the US (and fresh cherries are prohibitively expensive from what I can see), but the pie was still good and I am really proud of my crust and lattice work which is the best I've ever done, generally ending up with a wonky, anorexic looking version of Martha Stewart creations when I make pies.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.  We are headed to the states shortly but there is a forthcoming post on the culinary and aesthetic pleasures of Italy, I promise...

An Austere but Eye-catching Beauty: Sea Buckthorn

Sea Buckthorn: an eye-catching beauty.
image credit

There is a cute little flower and plant stand at our local mall that I pass every time I go shopping. In the leadup to our Thanksgiving feast-orama I kept my eyes peeled for something simple, sturdy and colorful that would make a striking yet understated centerpiece to the Thanksgiving table. If chosen correctly, this piece of foliage could also serve as an enduring autumnal-transitioning-into-invernal centerpiece for the house.

Low-maintenance but beautiful was my game. With those prerequisites in mind, I knew flowers, unless potted, were out of the question. And besides, I did not want to go the Poinsettia route although my family has established luck with those Christmas flowers.**

The flower stand offered a variety of evergreen wreaths, garlands, bunches of leaves and branches of many sorts - real or fake, bare or full of white fluffy poofs. But one thing caught my eye on day one and continued to do so until almost two weeks later when I finally bought it: a bucket full of tree branches with nothing but bright, brilliantly orange berries on them. I didn't ask the name then, though I should have. I just knew those two big branches of berries were my perfect centerpiece.

It turns out they are from a species of Central Asian / Eastern European shrub called Sea Buckthorn, and though deceptively austere in appearance - no leaves, no flowers, just berries and wood - the species is surprisingly versatile, delicate and above all, beautiful.

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Top 3 Interesting Things About Sea Buckthorn

the bold and the beautiful

3. Resilient Little Bugger
Though the berries fall off easily and they are an awkward and ostensibly delicate thing to carry home from the florist, these shrubs in their full and natural form are about as resilient as plants come. They can survive temperatures up to -40C (that's -40F for you Americans), and are drought AND salt tolerant. They can grown in sand, soil, you name it. Sadly, their resilience means they tend to spread and create ugly large thickets if not kept in check - and they have gigantic thorns when fully mature. Oh well.


2. Berry Good Indeed.
In the Cold War the Russians and East Germans developed a new and improved Sea Buckthorn plant that was tougher, more resilient, yielded more berries, and spiked only westerners with its thorns. Ok kidding about the last part but I guess you could kind of call it the "communist sea buckthorn." :)

The reason they did this is because of the possible precious nature of Sea Buckthorn berries. While nothing has been proven as to their possible benefits with regards to things like cancer or other diseases, we do know that they contain almost 12 TIMES the Vitamin C of oranges, and can be combined with other sweeter, less astringent juices to make a delicious breakfast smoothy!


1. "She's a Beaut, that One."
There are male and female Sea Buckthorns, which makes sense since the name sounds like some kind of mythical creature out of Harry Potter.

The female, of course, is the only one that bears the much-sought berries. And I say much-sought with no socio-political agenda in mind. I say sought-after for one very simple reason of great importance to an aesthetist such as I: their eye-catching beauty.

Or in technical terms:

"The combination of fruit shape and size, together with the contrast between the colour of the fruit and leaves, contributes to the ornamental value of this plant."

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Here is one of my favorite shots of my lovely Sea Buckthorn branches:

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**My grandmother once received a poinsettia as a Christmas gift from a house guest. This was back in the 70s. She took it and planted it in her front garden. It thrived and is currently still alive and well, in tree form, in her front yard in Mexico City.

A Day of Much Stuffing.

Turkish perfection - stuffed with mushroom delectability.

For two years running now Matt and I have held an early-autumnal feast here in the land of the Pilgrims a weekend or two before THE holy Thursday. It is a chance for us ex-pats to come together with a lot of other ex-pat friends and be thankful and gluttonous. But besides that, it is also a rare opportunity to introduce friends of different nationalities to one of the few, truly identifiably, and uniquely (how many adverbs can I throw in here?) American traditions: Thanksgiving.

It's funny, but this year it seems like almost everyone I spoke to about Thanksgiving in the weeks running up to it seemed to say how much they love stuffing - even to the exclusion of the otherwise obvious main attraction and slang-namesake of "Turkey Day" - that unfortunate and delicious wattle-d animal, the Turkey. Weirdly, I found myself in many an unorthodox Thanksgiving conversation over the past couple of weeks that went something like this:

"Hey, if I don't see you have a great Thanksgiving - and enjoy the Turkey!"

"Oh yeah, the turkey - I will. But actually for me it's all about the stuffing."

or

"So, have you picked up your bird yet?"

"Yeah, we got a big one this year. But what I look forward to every year is the stuffing."

or even

"MAN! That is a big turkey you've got there. You better make sure to leave some room for dessert!"

"Oh don't worry - I never eat much turkey. I am a stuffing kinda girl."


Fine, I made a couple of those up - but really!? Who knew that people were so stuck on the quieter, shyer, uglier cousin of the Thanksgiving star-of-the-show?

I mean, stuffing (or dressing, or whatever you call it!) is not that pretty to look at most of the time, especially if you cook it inside the cavity of the bird. It's brown and crumbly, or even gooey and steamed - so much so that you can slice it! But the secret that most people never talk about is that it has all the stuff in it that delicious Thanksgivings are made of. An understated, unflashy conglomeration of the bits-and-bobs of true Thanksgivingness that is the perfect accompaniment to what should be, in my mind, a simple roast bird.

Yes, yes, yes, Thanksgiving IS all about the sides. I do agree. But no side, in my mind, can come close - if done right (and you can bet your bottom dollar it was done right this year!) - to matching the appeal of stuffing. Onto the list.

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Top Four Reasons To Stuff Yourself This Thanksgiving
with stuffing or whatever else is cooked and within your grasp.
Screw the diet - it's the holidays (again).

4. Corn Pudding
Is it wrong to say that maybe in some bastardized crazy way this time-tested Thanksgiving staple is a shout-out to the Native Americans that so kindly showed the pilgrims how to farm and therefore also metaphorically kindled the embers that one day became the roaring fire of America? Is that so wrong?

Well even if it is, I think you and I know that whatever and whenever and whoever the hell this dish came from, there's a reason it shows up every year and gets eaten to the last Americana-encrusted-crumb every year. We all have our secret recipe - sugar or not, jiffy or not, kernels or not - and we all horde it (for absolutely no good reason) and all these things make corn pudding more than worthy to be on this list of reasons to stuff and be stuffed by the ones you love this Thanksgiving.


3. Cranberry Sauciness - Annual Permission to be Irreverent.
When else can you, in all seriousness, buy cranberries in a can, pop said can open and pour it - IN CAN FORM - onto a small platter and serve straight to guests with applause and glee all around?!
My little sister gets upset if I ever try to mash down the can shape and insists it's part of the Thanksgiving aesthetic. I cannot say I disagree.

And for the record, I like both with cranberry chunks and smooth. Availability of both is ideal for prime-stuffing situations.


2. Turkish (but not really) Perfection
In the painfully adulterated words of Michael Jackson...

"If you'll be my [Turkey] it don't matter if you're [dark] or white."

*awkward drum / cymbal slap*

For those of you who would otherwise avoid dark meat during the year because of its rich, fatty nature, now's the time to indulge. I like chicken legs as much as the next, but there is something perfectly thrilling (and positively medieval) about the size and deliciousness of Turkey legs that deserves a little respect and indulgence, and Turkey day is the night, day, and morning after for said indulgence.

Go on, have a second, or even third helping. Yes, the requisite delicate slices of breast meat should not be neglected (but let's be honest, you drench those in gravy anyway), but neither should the moist, fatty chunks of wing and thigh that we all know we're eyeing anyway. :)


1. Stuffing: The Ultimate Farce

Farce: a comedy which aims to entertain the audience by means of unlikely, extravagant, and improbable situations, disguise and mistaken identity, verba humor of varying degrees of sophistication, which may include sexual innuendo and word play, and a fast-paced plot whose speed usually increases, culminating in an ending which often involves an elaborate chase scene.

Sounds like Thanksgiving at my house pretty much every year around the time that I am trying to take the Turkey out of the oven.

But seriously, I bet you didn't know how sophisticated stuffing really is. According to this article, stuffing was actually called "farce" in the middle ages, which came from the Latin farcire or "to stuff." It is apparently also still called "forcemeat" by some people and only started to be referred to as "dressing" because of the (predictable) snootish propriety of the Victorian upper crust who found it offensive to use the term "stuffing" with reference to their nourishment.

Well now, I think the fact that we can use the word stuffing without fearing that our sensibilities and/or honor have somehow been slighted is as good a reason as any to get on into the kitchen and stuff stuff stuff!

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Truly Delectable Mushroom Stuffing

Serves 10


Roman's First Thanksgiving

This year at our Thanksgiving party I got more compliments on my stuffing than I ever have in my life. Granted, I haven't made stuffing THAT many times, but I've tried as many recipes as I have times I've made it and this was a clear winner. It involves lots and lots of mushrooms, giblets galore (go on, be adventurous!), and a couple of predictable Brenda twists (red pepper flakes, for one) to give it my secret touch.

You've got to cook it in the bird or it just doesn't get that extra buttery, Turkey moistness oh-so-necessary for it to have a truly addictive quality. But if that's not how you roll (and I take great issue with you if it isn't) then go ahead and bake it in a casserole dish, but add a whole lot more liquid in the form of Turkey drippings, stock, shiitake broth, wine or a generous mixture of all. Either way it's guaranteed to have you and your guests "wattling" poetic by the end of the meal.

Ingredients

3/4 loaf stale white bread, chopped into small squares
4 tbsps butter
4 cups chopped chestnut mushrooms
2 cups soaked and sliced shiitakes, broth reserved
2 medium onions, chopped into small pieces (not fine, not coarse)
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp fresh thyme (or 1 tsp dried)
1 cup dry white wine
2-3 tbsps chopped fresh tarragon
2-3 tbsps chopped fresh parsley
1 tbsps red chili pepper flakes
1 set turkey giblets (heart, liver, kidney, gizzard, neck meat) chopped / shredded finely
1/4 cup shiitake broth
1/4 cup chicken or turkey broth
salt, pepper to taste

our buffet table, waiting to be stuffed

Method

1. Leave your loaf of bread (and I mean normal, sliced bread - not a baguette or the like) out and open for one night so it is nice and stale. Chop into thin slices and then small squares (pretty small actually). Put into a large metal bowl and set aside.

2. Soak the shiitakes in extremely hot water to rehydrate for 20-30 minutes. Slice once cool and reserve liquid.

3. Melt butter in a medium pan over medium heat, then sautee the onion, garlic, and red pepper flakes until translucent. Add mushrooms and thyme; sautee until well-cooked.

4. Increase heat to high and add white wine and leave to reduce until almost all liquid is gone. Season with salt and pepper generously. Remove pan from heat and pour onion-mushroom mixture over bread squares.

5. Add chopped giblets and shredded neck meat to bread mixture as well as tarragon and parsley. Mix well and then season again generously with salt and pepper.

6. At this point the mixture should look like fluffly stuffing. Pour shiitake and turkey broth over it and mix well. The mixture should not be soggy or wet looking.
MAKE AHEAD: Make stuffing night before Thanksgiving; put into ziplock bags and refrigerate until needed the next day.

7. When you're ready to make the turkey, stuff both the main and the neck cavities with the stuffing, and be sure to baste it generously with turkey drippings as the turkey bakes.

PLEASE NOTE: It is safe to bake stuffing in a turkey as long as the turkey and stuffing are both at room temperature before they go into the oven - do not bake stuffing in a bird that is partially or wholly frozen or the heat will not penetrate the stuffing fast enough!