Green Soup for After a Party

I hosted Easter yesterday — sent out invitations and invited everyone I know to stop by — it was great fun, there were probably 30 or 40 people over the afternoon, luckily not all at once since my house isn’t that big. I did a big ham, cured and smoked by our local butcher, Matt. He does wonderful hams (we keep trying to convince him to eschew CAFO meat, and while he does do some local sourcing, he’s unconvinced people around here will pay for it. Considering half the kids in the county get free lunch, he might be right, but we keep trying nonetheless). Even though he uses commercial pork, he does a great ham, and unbelievable bacon — I consider it half-local — and I glazed that 16 pound big boy with a mixture of equal parts orange marmalade, mustard, rooster sauce and brown sugar (next time I might add some orange zest as well). It came out spicy and sweet and fabulous, and as always, people ate most of that ham.

I also made some delicious asparagus mushroom egg stratas using this recipe I found online — and made a big salad. Now because I have a horror of running out of food at a party — I had an entire uncooked egg strata left over, as well as 3 big bags of washed greens (a mix of red and green leaf lettuce, frissee, and watercress). I cooked off the last egg strata this morning, then portioned it up and froze it — that’s a lot of easy dinners for nights when work has been hectic. And I’m making soup from the leftover greens.

I love greens soup in the spring — and today’s mixture of spitting rain and sunshine screams spring like nothing else. I cut up a white onion and sauteed it in enough butter and olive oil to cover the bottom of my dutch oven. When the onion was translucent I added a dried chile pepper and 4 cloves of garlic minced. Then I started feeding in the greens, stuffing more and more in as they wilted. A good slug of leftover champagne (I know! sounds decadant — but it was leftover cava from the mimosas) and cook it until all the greens wilted down. Then I added a box of chicken stock (I have some homemade in the freezer, but I wasn’t thinking ahead), and a half pint of whipping cream leftover from this weekends fiesta. Cook it until it seems done but not dead, then get out the hand-held blender and puree. And there you have it, a big pot of liquid greenness — which feels like just the thing after a long winter of bean soups. As if we all need the tonic of greens after a long winter, even though we’re not exactly Greek peasants surviving on dried fish and salt pork all winter.

So, Spring is officially here. We’ve had a big fiesta complete with kids and dogs and everyone standing around my kitchen talking and drinking mimosas. There’s been a ham. The leftovers are dealt with, and I’m looking forward to a long summer of entertaining in the garden — that is, if summer ever comes!

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Surgery for Everyone this Week

Sorry for the spotty posting this week — Owen-the-dog had ACL surgery on Wednesday. He’s fine. Home on the couch next to me, but in considerable pain and will have to be on-leash or in a crate for the next few weeks.

And my Dad had surgery in the Czech Republic, where he lives. He’s had an odd cyst behind his ear for decades, and the doctors decided that it was time to take it out. It was in a dodgy spot with a lot of nerves, and he was nervous he’d wind up drooling for the rest of his life — but apparently he came through it okay. My stepmother and I heard from his current wife this morning, so that was a relief.

And work has been a little crazy — so, blogging has fallen by the wayside. And it’s winter — no garden news, not much food news. I think it’s a meatloaf weekend … meatloaf, ice packs for the dog’s hurt leg, and a pile of Oscar movie screeners I got from a screenwriter friend.

Here’s what I’ve seen so far:

  • No Country for Old Men: I thought this was going to be too gory, but it was beautiful in that strange, bleak, gorgeous Cormac McCarthy way. Great performances.
  • Away From Her: Julie Christie is luminous and Gordon Pinset is marvelous as the husband who loves her enough to let her go.
  • Juno: Once you get past the unbearably twee first 20 minutes, it’s a movie that actually surprised me a little. I liked it.
  • Diving Bell and the Butterfly: This was the surprise of the bunch. I didn’t think I’d like this one. I mean, a paralyzed man dictating a book by blinking? I have a pet theory about translation of books to film — great books often make crappy movies because great books rely on beautiful sentences and that doesn’t translate to film. Julian Schnabel, perhaps because he’s a visual artist to begin with, uses the visual language of film to build metaphors in an way that’s analogous to the way a writer uses gorgeous sentences. It is a surprising and deeply moving film.
  • Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford: This one fails for all the reasons that Diving Bell succeeds. It’s too long, the voice-over tries to carry Ron Hansen’s astonishing sentences (this is a book that I copied pages of sentences from when I read it years ago, it’s a book I adore), and while there is some lovely visual imagery, it does not serve the narrative, but causes it to drag. Casey Affleck, however, does turn in a marvelous performance.
  • The Savages: This is a terrific small movie with lovely performances by Laura Linney and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. It made me miss my brother so deeply, made me sad for what is to come. The performances are so true, and sweet — it’s a wonderful movie.
  • La Vie en Rose: I’m a big fan of the bio-pic, and I thought Marion Cotillard did a terrific job channelling Edith Piaf. It was French, moved quickly, had great songs, and just enough Gallic histrionics for an entertaining evening.

And with all this movie-watching, I’m nearly done with the sweater I started three years ago. I might even get to start another one! I’ve been wanting to knit something from Becky Weed’s gorgeous wool she’s milling over at 13 Mile Ranch — I’m thinking I might need a sweet little sweater out of that natural ivory-colored wool. Sigh.

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Lost Recipe

In the NY Times Magazine’s 2007 roundup, the food page did a tribute to Peg Bracken — and they ran the Braised-Chicken-and-Artichoke Casserole. This was one of the first party dishes I ever made — I was fifteen or sixteen and my mother was very fond of the I Hate to Cook CookBook. I was so psyched to find this recipe — I remember it so vividly! Sauteeing off the chicken, then making the simple veloute with the mushrooms and sherry and chicken broth. Tucking the artichoke hearts in between the chicken pieces and pouring the sauce over — and the magical way it made the whole house smell delicious.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a house. My mother at that point was renting a funny little modernist bachelor pad by the Bath and Tennis club in the town where I grew up. There were two of them — funny little cubic buildings split in half vertically — so each cube had two-story apartment faced with glass on the front and back sides. The ground floor was open, with a tidy little steel galley kitchen that could be closed off with a sliding door. There was a spiral staircase to the second floor where there were two bedrooms and a bath. Like most of those early modernist buildings, the glass was single-pane, and those apartments were cold in the winter.

We lived with our dad in high school, and I made this recipe one weekend at Mom’s house. It was winter, and cold, and the smell of sherry and chicken and mushrooms and artichokes was delicous. It came out of the oven all brown and chickeny. It was one of the first cooking triumphs I ever had. This funny little recipe is a kind of Proust’s madeleine for me — one of the first things I cooked that made it clear to me that cooking could change the tenor of a winter’s day, could take a Sunday afternoon characterized by football and torpor and homework undone and transform it with a real dinner. Dinner that tasted and smelled delicious. Dinner that was transformational.

So thanks Peg Bracken. Thanks for teaching me that I could cook. For teaching me that cooking can change the way a day goes, if not change the way a life goes.

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I Did It …

I got all the boxes in the mail — granted, the last two, to my aunt and my grandmother (who live together) didn’t go out until yesterday — but they celebrate Christmas on whichever day next week is most convenient — and well, my grandmother is 96, and while she still has most of her marbles, she’s old enough not to care if her chocolate truffles get there a day late.

I love making food presents for everyone — but next year I have to remember that it does actually take some time, and perhaps I should start sooner than the last weekend before Christmas. It would also help if we don’t have a big fire-drill crisis at the Big Corporation two days before we all leave for the holidays.

So, one more day of power-editing at my day job (nothing says fun like 12 hour days hunched over my monitor crisis-editing docs that missed an edit cycle and now have to go out the door next week) and then I ‘m done. I have all of next week off. I’m so looking forward to it …

I’m spending Christmas with my friends Nina and Elwood and their four kids — it’s always a fun holiday — there are lots of people I love, good food and fancy wines, the kids sing carols (including our Sophia-of-the-perfect-pitch), put on a play and there’s ribbon and wrapping paper and running around and all sorts of excitement.

Then four full days off with no plans and no event cooking on the horizon. Four days to walk with the dogs, hang out with my friends, ski if there’s some snow, read books and re-aqcuaint myself with my basement writing office.

I hope everyone out there has a great Christmas (or whichever holiday you celebrate). Eat, drink, be merry … Ho Ho Ho ….

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Now If I Can Only Get Them in the Mail …

It’s been a weekend of cooking cooking cooking … with a couple of small breaks for tree trimming and kids’ recitals …

So if you’re on my Christmas list — stop reading now. Go away. Come back after your box arrives.

For the rest of you — here’s the weekend:

I made truffles for my grandmother. I made chocolate hazelnut cookies, pfeffernussen (I can’t find the recipe online — but it was a good one — with grated lemon rind and some candied citron and orange and ginger — they came out chewy and delicious, not powdery and terrible like those ones in the package), and chocolate hermits. I wanted three kinds of round drop cookies that all taste surprisingly great — and I think that’s what I got. I need to package them up this morning, but I think I now have a pile of little gifts for people like my mailman and for hostess gifts.

I also invented a Christmas Cake — it’s based on a traditional English Christmas cake recipe I found on the Guardian site. But instead of dried and glaceed fruits, I used the plums and cherries I put up last summer. I drained them of the sugar syrup I put them up in (or of the spiced sugar syrup — I did half and half) and soaked them overnight in brandy. The cake batter is a heavy, spicy batter with lots of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cardamom and powdered ginger in it. Then the fruit, some candied orange, ginger and citron peel, walnuts and the grated rind of a lemon get folded in. I found some little bundt pans at Cost Plus, so I baked them in those — they came out great! They smell all rich and Christmassy and this morning I’m going to make some Royal Icing for them — now I just have to figure out how to pack them for shipping. I think they need to go in their own box inside the bigger hamper box.

It wasn’t all sweets around here either. I made a gorgeous version of the Pate Grandmere from Michael Ruhlman’s Charcuterie book — instead of pork liver I used half the liver from my antelope — unlike the horrifying moose liver, antelope liver is lovely. Antelope liver is not mushy, it’s just tidy and has the loveliest texture. I thought the Pate Grandmere would be good because it’s a very livery terrine — you sear the liver before grinding it, and while I don’t like slices of liver as much as the MH does, I think it’s going to make for a lovely terrine. And it didn’t break — I don’t have a fancy pate mold but I have to say, my old Pyex bread pan works really well, and it’s the perfect size to use a foil-wrapped brick as a weight. So the terrine will get cut into slices, packed with my vaccuum sealer, frozen and shipped along with the moose pate and some buffalo summer sausage I bought from a local butcher for the game portion of Christmas.

Now I just have to make a couple more Christmas cakes, pack up all the cookies, slice and pack and freeze the terrines, pack the boxes and get things shipped …. yikes! Oh, and work my day job — which is really busy this week — ho ho ho!

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Let the Baking Begin …

Because too many of the people on my Christmas list read my blog, I can’t be too specific — but let’s say that this weekend is all about baking — cookies, cake, pate (well, it’s baked anyhow) and chocolate-chile truffles for my grandmother — I have a hunch that it might be another lost weekend as far as writing goes, since there’s so much to do, and my favorite children are back in town. It’s the holiday rush!

And although it sounds a little hectic — I’m looking forward to a house full of cinnamon and cardamon and cloves. I’m looking forward to packing cookies in little cellophane bags and figuring out how to ship some other goodies I don’t want to be too specific about. I love the idea of my far-away friends and family opening boxes of goodies and having something fun to share on Christmas Eve or Day when I can’t be with them.

So HO HO HO everyone … time to decorate the tree and get out the sprinkles and shiny silver ball decors that they tell you you’re not supposed to eat but whatever. Time to shred more paper for packing and put the little freezer packs in to get cold. Time to dig out the Christmas music — Dean Martin, Rosie Clooney, and my all-time favorite The Rat Pack Christmas.

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English Food for Christmas

No matter how much French and Italian food I might cook the rest of the year, for me, Christmas is all about English Food (well, and German — I did grow up in the Midwest after all). I don’t understand people who have turkey for Christmas — people! you just had a turkey! Branch out! (And in our family, ham was for Easter, not Christmas. Every family has it’s holiday food rules and that was just one of ours.)

No, Christmas in our family was always beef — either a whole filet for a crowd (boring, even when done as a Wellington) or my favorite, a standing rib roast. The best Christmas I ever cooked was in California, before we moved here. I spent a small fortune on a gorgeous, dry-aged, Niman Ranch standing rib roast and did it with some lovely green beans and carrots (blanched, then reheated with Christmas-only quantities of butter), and a yorkshire pudding. I’d never done one of those myself and I remember pouring the batter into the hot beef fat in the roasting pan. “Well that’s never going to work,” I thought as I put the pan back in the oven. I was sure the pudding was going to be a disaster but it wasn’t — it actually puffed up and did it’s thing and was delicious — a triumph.

My other standby when I was younger and too poor to even think about something as fabulous as a standing rib roast was goose — goose isn’t really that expensive and there’s a terrific recipe in The New James Beard that had an apple and prune stuffing. It’s really wonderful and because goose is so rich, you can feed a lot of people off one goose — I’ve done a Christmas goose for eight a couple of times. (And as an added incentive, you get a nice jar of gorgeous goose fat out of it — there is really nothing better than potatoes roasted in goose fat. Sigh.)

Now that I don’t host Christmas any more, I’m always on the lookout for things to bring. A few years ago, it was the Croquembouche that Wouldn’t Die, and last year I made a trifle that Nina requested specifically (she gave me the recipe she wanted me to make). I love her, but that was boring and it included cake from a mix!? Yuck. And Maderia — double yuck.

This year I’m thinking of steamed puddings? I have all those plums that I put up last fall — Plum Pudding is made with prunes of course, but I might be able to futz around with a recipe. Or some sort of German Plum Stollen? I’m going to have to go do a little investigative googling … But we had a steamed persimmon pudding at Thanksgiving that was delicious — cakey and nice and not too sweet and warm — it was really great. And of course, anything you can light on fire is always a hit with the kids.

I’ve also been thinking of doing an Antelope Wellington for Christmas appetizers — without the pate but with lots of wild mushrooms. Maybe Antelope/Morel Wellington? Talk about local … Or maybe I can talk the MH into giving me some birds so I can make this gorgeous Game Pie that Gordon Ramsey published in the Times of Londonlast week.

Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho … the holidays are coming … all sorts of fun cooking ahead!

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More LA Food Fun …

While Sushi Nozawa was the culinary highlight not just of my trip to LA, but perhaps of my entire gustatory existence, there was more food fun to be had during my visit to LA.

On Wednesday I went over to Brentwood to have dinner with my oldest college friend and his wife and year-old baby. They were hosting a couple, also with a little munchkin, who were visiting from France and they took over the cooking duties. Now my old friend Matt grew up to be kind of a big deal studio executive, and so people bring him really really nice bottles of wine when they come over. Matt doesn’t really drink, but since we were having a Francophile home dinner, Matt opened a bottle of wine. It was a Margaux — It was delicious. I love Bordeaux, and this one was, as one might expect, quite yummy. Sam and Ali were roasting a chicken over some vegetables, they made a lovely little endive, blue cheese and dried cranberry salad, and toasted some croutons to soak up the lovely chicken juices. Ali also made a lovely tarte tatin with phyllo dough for a crust — simple, easy, and absolutely wonderful. We drank most of the fabulous Margaux with cheese while watching the babies and waiting for the chicken to roast. Then Matt and Sam went off to see what else Matt had squirreled away in his cellar — they came back with a lovely lovely Stag’s Leap Pinot which we also enjoyed.

We’ve been talking endlessly about how people don’t cook, and Matt and Paige don’t cook much — he’s got a huge job, and she’s starting this very fabulous eco baby store called The Little Seed, and baby Jackson isn’t eating real food yet, so I think like so many people I know, they’ve just gotten out of the habit. It was such a pleasure not to eat takeout — to hang out in a kitchen full of the lovely smell of roasted chicken and to catch up with my old old friend, and to meet his new friends who were beyond lovely, and then to all sit down at the table together.

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LivingSmall in LA

Here at LivingSmall we’re closing up shop for the week — I’m heading south to stay with my friends the striking screenwriters (if I make it to the picket lines, I’ll be sure to get a photo). We completely support the striking screenwriters here at LivingSmall (for what it’s worth). I’ve got a hunk of pancetta and some dried morels to contribute to the feast, and then on Friday, the big event is that the miracle babies are turning three! They’re big girls now — talking to one another and singing songs and generally getting into all sorts of trouble.

So we’ll be back online starting the 26th. Have a great Turkey everyone! Personally, I’m looking forward to some good sushi …

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Thanksgiving Tips and Tricks?

Well, now that we’ve explored the strange and wonderful world of bizarre holiday foods — let’s talk about tips and tricks for getting that big ceremonial meal on the table …

My mother just called and my cousin Denise wants to know how I did the turkey last year because apparently she remembers it as being especially good — honestly, I can’t really remember. I’m pretty sure I bought an organic bird because those frozen ones shot full of stuff freak me out — and really, if you can get a nice fresh organic turkey, it’s worth the hassle and the expense. I know I didn’t stuff it, because I think stuffing the bird is a sure way to dry it out, and frankly, I get a tiny bit skeeved out by the stodginess of stuffing done inside the bird. I tend to cook a turkey like a big chicken — and since I have a near mystical faith in the power of a roasted chicken to make everything right in the world, I figure a turkey is just a bigger bird for a bigger group.

So, because it is such a big bird, and because the breast tends to dry out — I like to take at least a stick of soft butter and mash it up with a bunch of garlic and herbs into a paste (whichever herbs you like — my favorites are thyme, sage, rosemary, and some parsley for that nice fresh green taste). And although it’s a little bit fiddly, you can smush it in under the skin either from the cavity end or the neck end, depending on where it’s easier to get in between the skin and the flesh. I have short stumpy little fingers, so I use a spatula to get the butter stuff in there, and then you can kind of massage it around to spread it — and of course, the butter will melt once you put the bird in the oven so don’t worry if there are lumps. Then lots and lots of salt and pepper on the skin and you’re ready to go.
Because I don’t like bread stuffing inside the bird, I stuff the cavity with lemons, herbs, garlic, and a couple of onions. Poke lots of holes in the rind of the lemons, or chop them into halves or quarters so you can jam more of them in there if you want. But citrus and onion inside the cavity gives the bird a nice fresh flavor, and keeps it moist.

I might have gotten fancy last year and started the bird breast side down as well. I usually start chickens that way. It crisps up the skin on the back nicely, and I think it helps keep the breast meat juicy. For a chicken I usually cook them at 425 for an hour and a half (remember, we’re at altitude here, so things take longer — at sea level an hour might suffice). I do the chicken breast down for the first 45 minutes, then flip it for another 45. For a turkey I’d suggest looking in Joy of Cooking or some other standard cookbook for temperatures and times — Like a chicken, I think I did the turkey half and half last year — the trick is if the bird is enormous to get one of those big strong men lounging by the football game to help you when it’s time to flip the bird. Also, I just use potholders right on the hot bird — yes they get greasy but that’s what the washing machine is for — just toss them in afterwards.

So, that’s my turkey process — it’s just a big bird, it’s not rocket science. Use some common sense, keep an eye on it and have a nice time chatting with everyone while it cooks. As for the other stuff — we’re not really a gravy people, so that’s never been a source of anxiety in my family — a little jus made from the drippings and some beurre maniere and some booze and we’re good to go. I do stuffing on the side, in a baking dish and don’t really have any standard one — they’re all good — I’m partial to stuffing with sausage in it. My cousin Dede does a nice mix of mashed potatoes and mashed turnips that’s yummy. I like brussel sprouts with some pancetta done in the oven until the sprouts are brown and yummy and the bacon chunks are crispy. A nice fresh salad, perhaps with some apples and walnuts and a little blue cheese — something crispy and fresh to balance all that heavy food. Champagne, a nice zinfandel and something sweet at the end.

Since you guys all had so many great horror-show dishes to share — what about tips and tricks? What do you tell your non-cooking friends when they call you in a panic about Thanksgiving?

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