I have a love/hate relationship with farmers markets.
I know I’m supposed to love them; and I mostly do. Put me in the middle of a well-run market, and I’m like a kid in a candy store. I become positively exuberant, and I want to buy it all and cook absolutely everything. So much gorgeous food! So many possibilities! Unusual herbs! Mushrooms! Cherries! Zucchini blossoms! Honey! Giant flowers! Peaches!
But on the other hand, I live in Chicago. Average travel time from my house to anywhere is one hour. Factor in the two hour round trip, plus browsing time, and you’re coming dangerously close to half a work day. I may love food and all things culinary with every fibre of my being, but that’s a significant commitment for some flippin’ vegetables.
Despite the seeming glut of farmers markets scattered throughout the city, I’ve found precious few worth a repeat visit, and none are very close to me. One market opened this year within walking distance of my house, but featured a conspicuous lack of vegetables. As in, no vegetables. None. This is not a joke.
And besides, I never have cash. Sometimes I wish farmers would accept credit cards.
But every so often, I make the trek to one of the better markets, and I tell myself that I should really do it more often. I always find something unusual, something to spark my frenzied imagination. The last time I went was a few weeks ago, my first market outing of the year. In the midst of my awed wandering, I came across a plastic bin filled with a tangled bramble of green curls, each topped with a pale green flower bud. Maybe you’re familiar with them, but I had never seen such a thing before.
The lady behind the table called them garlic scapes, and though I had no idea what they were, I knew I had to have some. She said to “use them wherever you’d use garlic,” and no amount of pressing for further details would divulge more information. I bagged a selection of slender scapes, with the idea that the smaller they were, the more tender and sweeter they would be, and went on my way.
As it turns out, garlic scapes are the shoots that come out of garlic bulbs, which must be cut off to allow the bulb to fully mature. Previously, they had mostly been thrown away as trash; but some genius recently realized their delicious (and money-making) potential, and began selling them. And not that I get to so many farmers markets, but word on the street is that scapes are the new ramps. Hot stuff, you see.
Back home with my wealth of scapes (16, to be exact), I set out to find the best possible showcase for the pungently fragrant spirals. Some recipes called for sautéing, which seemed an appropriate way to display their sweeping curves; but a surprising number of pesto recipes turned up as well. I decided to prepare half as pesto, and sauté the other half to serve over homemade pasta.
The pasta dish turned out well enough; with the fresh shell peas I had also brought home from the market, a few capers, and other goodness (lemon and mascarpone) tossed in at whim, the plate had a green, spring-like vibrance. A dusting of paprika added a necessary spice, and pretty pop of color. But the intended star ingredient, the scapes, seemed to have lost much of their bright garlic flavor upon being cooked. They dulled, and became little more than a tough scallion. The peas took center stage, which wasn’t a bad thing, but wasn’t quite what I was going for.
Luckily, the pesto was a much greater success. A mere eight scapes transformed into a jar of some of the most flavorful, brilliant pesto I’ve ever tasted. Their raw pungency lent the perfect level of garlic flavor, without any bitterness whatsoever, while their herbal qualities belied a total lack of basil, or any other leaf. A quick spin in the food processor with walnuts and almonds, a handful of parmesan, and a bit of olive oil, and I had the ideal staging to flaunt my scapes.
My recommendation, then, is to buy as many scapes as you can get your hands on, assuming you can still find some. Make the lot into pesto, and freeze what you won’t use in a week. Then, when the depth of winter comes, and you’d just about kill for a taste of a real summer tomato or spring pea, thaw a cube or two in your white bean soup, or mix it with olive oil to dip a crusty bread in. And if that won’t warm you inside and out, I don’t think anything will.
Garlic Scape Pesto Adapted from Dorie Greenspan
Makes about 1 cup
To prepare scapes, cut off the tough, woody bit at the bottom of the stem (simmer those in broth for a treat). I blended up the pale green flowery parts in the pesto with no problems, but discard those if you plan on sautéing them, as they can be tough. Feel free to substitute any sort of nut you prefer.
8 garlic scapes, cut into pieces
3 tablespoons almonds
2 tablespoons walnuts
1/3 cup coarsely grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 to 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, as needed
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Salt and pepper, to taste
1. In the bowl of a food processor, blend the scapes, almonds, walnuts, and Parmesan together. Drizzle in enough olive oil to make a smooth paste. Scrape the bowl as needed. Add the lemon juice, and season with the salt and pepper to taste. Blend until thoroughly mixed.
2. Store pesto in a jar, covered with a thin layer of additional olive oil to prevent browning; or freeze pesto in ice cube trays until solid, then store tightly wrapped in the freezer.
I know it’s old hat by now, but I wanted to share the menu I prepared for a recent World Cup party in honor of the US game against Algeria. (I might’ve shown you the US versus Slovenia menu, but I forgot my camera that night.)
I’m relatively new to the cuisine of Northern Africa, but the more I learn, the more I love about it. So many spices! (And I do love me some spices.) Lamb! Flatbreads! Mint tea! Couscous! Honey and almonds! So when I heard the US was playing Algeria, I got very excited. It was a struggle to keep the number of Algerian dishes to a manageable level.
On the American food team, there was a giant Cobb salad (recipe here), as well as some gussied-up mocha Rice Krispies treats for dessert. Representing Algeria were chakhchouka served with couscous and flatbread, stuffed dates, and mint tea.
Of course, we had orange wedges for halftime. It may be the World Cup, but it’s still soccer.
Chakhchouka is typically a lamb and chickpea stew, served over torn bits of thin semolina flatbread called rougag, and is eaten with the hands; I took a few liberties with the idea, not wanting the decidedly American crowd to have to stray from the familiar fork or spoon. My chakhchouka was a chicken and chickpea stew, with at least 15 different spices, served over couscous, with a thick wheat-flour flatbread known as khubz alongside. Perhaps not precisely authentic chakhchouka, but it was close enough.
One hit of the evening was the Deglet Noor dates, stuffed with a fragrant mixture of finely-chopped nuts, brown sugar, honey, spices, and rose water. The homely things couldn’t have been simpler to put together, but the sticky things charmed everyone with their exotic complexity. A genius move from one guest paired a piece of bacon from the Cobb salad with a stuffed date; the smoky salt of the pork with the chewy sweet dates made me suddenly wish I had wrapped each one in proscuitto and baked until crisp and lightly caramelized. Next time.
I couldn’t resist serving Rice Krispies treats for dessert, those most American of American sweets. But, being the person I am, I also couldn’t resist using a markedly posh recipe for them. (We’re all familiar with the standard Rice Krispies treat, yes?) Here, cocoa is mixed into the cereal-marshmallow mixture, and the bars are sandwiched and drizzled with a mocha ganache.
The recipe headnotes mention a “tiny jolt of coffee flavor”. This is wrong. Not that it’s a bad thing, however. Normally, a mocha ganache has a mere hint of coffee, just enough to deepen the flavor of the chocolate. This ganache didn’t hint, it bellowed. “COFFEE!” Perhaps the instant coffee I used was a bit strong, but I added the full 1 tablespoon as directed. I personally thought it was perfect, especially with the relatively bland sweetness of the cereal part of the dessert. Proceed at your own discretion. (A side note: I doubled the amount of marshmallow-cereal mixture, and still had ganache left over.)
Unfortunately, this is the end of the US-themed World Cup menus; but that doesn’t mean there won’t be another World Cup party in the near future. Stay tuned for more international food battles!
this girl will be waiting for it
Chakhchouka (Chicken and Chickpea Stew) Adapted from RecipeZaar and VitamineDZ
Serves 6 to 8
The main seasoning ingredient in this stew is ras el hanout, a seasoning blend ubiquitous in North African cooking. Like its Indian counterpart, garam masala, ras el hanout is not a specific recipe, but a mixture that depends on the whim of the chef or spice house owner. I mixed my own, but there are pre-mixed versions available. A good starter recipe is found here; feel free to experiment with the blend to fit your tastes.
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 chicken breasts halves, patted dry
2 medium onions, chopped
1 to 2 tablespoons ras el hanout, to taste
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons tomato paste
5 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 zucchini, chopped
5 new potatoes (about 1/2 pound), chopped
1 (16 ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed
2 to 3 quarts chicken or vegetable stock, or water
2 tablespoons dried mint
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Salt and black pepper, as needed
Cooked couscous, to serve
1. In a large stock pot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Sprinkle the chicken breasts on both sides with salt and black pepper. Add the chicken (skin-side down, if applicable), and cook until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Turn the breasts over, and brown the other side, 4 to 5 minutes. Remove to a plate, and let cool slightly. When cool enough to handle, chop meat into 1 inch pieces (discarding skin and bone, if applicable).
2. Add the onions to the pan, and stir to coat with the oil. Let cook until the onions soften and turn translucent, about 10 minutes. Add the ras el hanout, paprika, cayenne, black pepper, and bay leaf. Cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the tomato paste and garlic, and stir to coat. Season lightly with salt, about 1/2 teaspoon.
3. Add the carrots, zucchini, potatoes, chickpeas, and chopped chicken. Add enough stock or water to cover. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium or medium-low to maintain a simmer. Liquid level should never drop below the top of the solids; add additional liquid as needed.
4. Simmer for 1 hour, or until vegetables are cooked to desired softness. Taste, and correct seasoning with salt and pepper. Remove from heat, and stir in dried mint and balsamic vinegar. Serve in bowls over cooked couscous.
Feel free to experiment with the nut and spice mixtures in this recipe. The filling is appropriately sweet, but the amount of brown sugar may be reduced if you prefer. For a special treat, try wrapping these in proscuitto or bacon and baking until the meat crisps. Serve those either warm or at room temperature.
3/4 cup almonds
1/2 cup walnuts (or pecans, macadamias, cashews, pistchios, or a mixture)
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 to 4 tablespoons honey
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1 three-fingered pinch salt
1 to 2 tablespoons rosewater (or orange flower water), as needed
30 dried Deglet Noor dates, pitted
1. If using raw nuts, toast by spreading in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake at 350º F for 5 to 9 minutes, or until lightly golden and fragrant, stirring halfway through. Let cool slightly.
2. In a food processor, pulse the nuts until chopped finely. Place in a medium bowl. Add the sugar, 2 tablespoons honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, and salt. Stir until well combined. Add 1 tablespoon rosewater, and stir to blend.
3. Squeeze a little of the mixture together. If it does not hold together, add additional honey or rosewater as desired until it clumps.
4. Stuff the pitted dates with teaspoons of the nut mixture. Dates may be served immediately, or stuffed up to two days ahead and stored in an airtight container at room temperature.
To explain how I discovered the Best Sandwich Cookie Probably Ever, I must begin with soccer.
For those of you who aren’t big into soccer, allow me to explain: it’s World Cup time. To put it in more familiarly American terms, imagine if the Super Bowl were held only once every four years. And imagine the rest of the world were allowed to compete. (And, um, I guess imagine the rest of the world cared about fútbol americano.)
The World Cup is kind of a big deal.
I’ll be honest; I’m not exactly what you’d call a sports fan. But hey hey, any excuse for a party, am I right? So when one of my dear friends solicited culinary assistance for his month-long World Cup extravaganza, I said “yes”. After all, this is the screen he’s got set up in his living room. That’s 220 ever-lovin’ inches of hi-definition soccer action, people. How could I refuse?
As for the food, we decided to focus on the US games, offering food that would acknowledge the two nations battling it out on the pitch. For the first US game this last Saturday, against England, I prepared Chicago-style hot dogs to represent America, matched against Britain’s national dish, Tikka Masala.
(Recipe for hot dog buns is here; recipe for tikka masala is here, more than halfway down.)
To round out the meal, and for a little something sweet, I pulled inspiration from one of the teams who played earlier in the day and made some Argentinian cookies. (Or at least, that’s what I told people; the truth is, I’d been dying to make the cookies since I heard about them, and any feeble excuse would do.)
Known as alfajores (al-fuh-HOR-ehs), their exact nature was a bit tricky to pin down. Made with a significant amount of cornstarch (or none at all), the dough is rolled out and cut into rounds (or just dropped onto a baking sheet). The baked cookies are sandwiched together with dulce de leche (or jam, or chocolate), and coated with powdered sugar (or chocolate, or nothing at all). Really, the only consistency between recipes is the act of sandwiching the cookies; other than that, it’s all up to the whim of the chef.
The beauty of cookies this variable and this obscure is manifold; if no one knows what they’re supposed to be like, then you can’t possibly mess them up. Were they authentic? Possibly. Were they good? Oh, my, yes.
Meltingly tender and crumbly in texture, the subtle and lightly buttery flavor of the cookies themselves was matched gorgeously by the relative robustness of the dulce de leche in between. The high percentage of cornstarch in the cookie dough made for a silken feel on the palate, while the sticky dulce de leche lingered just long enough to remind you of a chewy caramel.
I made over 50 of these sandwich cookies, and the dozen or so party guests (including myself) finished them all off. Every last one. They were the only things to go; there were nearly enough tikka masala and Chicago dog leftovers to throw the same party all over again. I believe one or two lamentations were gently wailed when it was discovered that the alfajores were gone.
Stay tuned for more World Cup recipes; the second US game happens today, but, over plenty of American and Slovenian food, we’ll be watching it on repeat later tonight. Yes, all 220 glorious, hi-def inches of it.
Alfajores Adapted from Chow
Makes about 50 sandwich cookies
The high percentage of cornstarch in this dough means that you don’t have to worry nearly so much about toughening from over-rolling. I re-rolled scraps three times (!), and the cookies still turned out well. Try to find an organic cornstarch for this (or at least as high quality as you can find), as butter will only go so far in covering up off flavors. Be gentle when sandwiching the cookies together, as the crumbly, shortbready texture can lead to much breakage. I used a can of prepared dulce de leche, but if you prefer to make your own, try David Lebovitz’s simple recipe.
8 ounces (2 cups) cornstarch
6 3/4 ounces (1 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
5 ounces (2/3 cup packed) light brown sugar
4 egg yolks, at room temperature
2 tablespoons rum, or brandy
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Dulce de leche, at room temperature
Powdered sugar, for dusting
1. Whisk together the cornstarch, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the room-temperature butter with the paddle attachment on medium speed until smooth, about 30 seconds. Add the brown sugar and cream for 3 minutes on medium speed until fluffy and light, about 3 minutes. Add the egg yolks one at a time, beating until each has incorporated, scraping the bowl as needed. Add the rum and vanilla, and beat until mixed in.
3. Add the cornstarch mixture, and mix at the lowest speed until just incorporated, 30 to 60 seconds.
4. Turn the dough out onto a work surface sprinkled lightly with flour. Knead gently two or three times, if needed, and divide into two even halves. Shape each half into a disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 12 hours.
5. Preheat the oven to 350º F. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper, or lightly flour. Remove one piece of dough from the refrigerator, and let stand at room temperature for 10 minutes before rolling.
6. Dust a work surface lightly with flour. Roll dough to a thickness of 1/4 inch, dusting with additional flour as needed to prevent sticking. Using a 1 1/2 inch to 2 inch round cutter, cut out rounds of dough as closely together as possible. Place rounds on the prepared baking sheet, spacing at least 3/4 inch apart. Gather scraps, knead together gently, wrap again in plastic wrap and refrigerate.
7. Bake cookies at 350º F for 8 to 11 minutes, or until just beginning to color on the edges. Let cool slightly on the pan before removing to a rack to cool completely. Repeat rolling, cutting, and baking with remaining dough, saving all scraps to knead together and roll out at one time.
8. To finish cookies, spread a slight amount of dulce de leche (1 to 2 teaspoons) on the underside of one cookie. Very gently press a second cookie on top of the dulce de leche. Repeat with remaining cookies. Sift powdered sugar over the tops of the sandwiched cookies to finish. Serve within 1 day.
As soon as Spring breaks here in Chicago, something amazing happens. Aside from the trees greening themselves overnight, and the frenzied blooming of flowers, there’s a sea change of a decidedly more human sort. All at once, your social calendar just blows up.
People crawl out of their Winter hidey-holes, and oh my goodness we should do something! Dinner plans form on weeknights, not just the obligatory Saturday night outing. Emails flurry nearly every afternoon, in a back-and-forth of forming plans to go anywhere. And suddenly, everyone is outside, in that primal need to enjoy the weather while it lasts.
My two collaborators, Taryn and Cybelle, and I are certainly not immune to this need. Knowing how delightful a meal al fresco can be, we decided on hand pies for our final Savory and Sweet match-up. Hand pies are perfect for an outdoor gathering: easily portable, and can be eaten with one hand while holding down the picnic blanket in a gust of wind. Wrap one in parchment for each guest, toss in a bag with some fresh fruit, and you’ve got a party to go.
don't forget beverages
The savory offering here is a chicken and chorizo pie, which might more aptly be called an empanada. There’s a touch of whole wheat flour in the all-butter crust, which lends a rusticity that befits the unfussy nature of the dish. The filling is a loose mélange of dark chicken meat and vivacious Spanish chorizo, shot through with fruity green olives and the occasional sweetness of a golden raisin. If you’re following along at home, the rhubarb chutney from earlier this week was simply fantastic with these, if a touch over the top. It all depends on how gilded you prefer your lilies.
On the sweet side, we took advantage of the glut of berries in stores at the moment, and decided on mixed-berry pies for dessert. Brushed with an egg wash for a golden gleam, and dusted with coarse sugar, I can just see these sparkling in the late-afternoon sun, in the park or on the back porch. The cabernet-colored filling spilling out of the seams might have been avoided by cutting small vents in the tops of the pies, true; but I love the slightly-chewy gummi-fruit texture of those overcooked bits. And besides, it makes them look positively exuberant.
exuberant, or defiant
For both crusts, I’ve written the recipes to use my favorite technique for cutting butter into flour by hand: mince the butter into as small pieces as possible, freeze, and simply toss with the flour. Some people prefer to grate frozen butter into flour, which works well in theory, but I’ve always found that my hands melt the butter before I’m done grating. Whatever method works best for you (including using a food processor, or any other way) is the method you should use.
I hope you’ve enjoyed these photos and recipes as much as I enjoyed putting it all together! It was a true pleasure working with Taryn and Cybelle, two extremely talented and delightful ladies, who made the hours spent “working” on this feel like a very exclusive party. I have an inkling that this won’t be the last time you’ll see the three of us partnering up!
our hosts: taryn and her husband brian
Chicken and Chorizo Hand Pies Adapted from Gourmet Magazine Makes 12 pies
I’m not the biggest raisin fan in the world, but I nevertheless urge you to include them, no matter what you normally think of them. The pockets of light sweetness they add simply make the dish. If, while forming the pies, the crust softens, chill the pies for at least 15 minutes before baking for the flakiest possible crust.
For the crust: 1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick), cold
9 ounces (2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 1/4 ounces (1/2 cup) whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 egg, cold
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1/3 cup ice-cold water, plus extra as needed
For the filling:
2 whole chicken legs, bone-in, skin-on (about 1 pound)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium white onions, diced
5 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon whole cumin
2 teaspoons sweet paprika
4 ounces raw Spanish-style chorizo (about 1 link), removed from casing
1/2 cup light-flavored beer
1/2 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup green olives, chopped roughly
1/4 cup golden raisins
To finish pies:
Flour for dusting and rolling out dough
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash
1. To make the crust, cut the butter into as small pieces as possible. Pile loosely on a plate, and place in freezer while preparing remaining ingredients, or for about 10 minutes.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour and salt. When butter is thoroughly firm, add to flour. Using fingertips or a pastry cutter, quickly toss and pinch until mixture resembles coarse meal. Large pea-sized lumps are okay.
3. Beat egg with vinegar until well blended, and add to flour mixture. Drizzle 1/3 cup ice water over, and quickly and gently fold in. Dough may look dry; try squeezing a bit together with fingertips. If mixture crumbles, add additional ice water by tablespoons, and gently mix together. If mixture holds together, turn out onto a work surface. Knead quickly and gently until mixture forms a cohesive ball, just a few turns. Shape dough into a flat disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
4. While dough chills, prepare the filling. Rub chicken legs with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season with salt and pepper. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add legs, skin side down, and cook until just golden brown, about 3 minutes. Flip legs over, and brown other side, about 3 minutes more. Remove to a plate.
5. Discard all but two tablespoons fat from pan. Add onions, stir to coat, and cook until translucent and lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, bay leaves, cumin, and paprika, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, or until fragrant. Add chorizo, breaking up if necessary, and cook until browned, about 5 minutes.
6. Add beer and scrape bottom of pan to deglaze and loosen any flavorful browned bits. Add chicken stock, olives, and raisins; stir to combine. Nestle chicken legs, skin side up, into the mixture, reduce heat to medium-low or low to maintain a simmer, and cover pan.
7. Simmer, covered, for 25 to 30 minutes, or until chicken registers 160º F on an instant read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh. Remove legs to a clean plate to cool. If necessary, continue simmering sauce until thickened and no longer soupy; it should be the consistency of heavy cream. Remove bay leaves, and let cool to room temperature. Pull chicken meat from bone, discarding skin, and stir meat into sauce. Filling may be made up to 2 days ahead and refrigerated; bring to room temperature before using.
8. When ready to make pies, preheat oven to 400º F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. Remove dough from refrigerator and let stand 5 to 10 minutes at room temperature. (If kitchen is warm, divide dough in half, working with one piece at a time, and refrigerating other half to prevent butter melting.)
9. Liberally dust a work surface with flour. Divide dough into 12 even pieces, and form each into a roughly round shape. Keep unused pieces covered loosely with plastic wrap. Using a floured rolling pin, roll each piece to a disc about 5 inches in diameter (about 1/8 inch thick), lifting and turning dough and dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking. The shape need not be perfectly round.
10. Place 2 generous tablespoons of filling in the center of each round. Brush the edges of the dough lightly with egg wash, and fold the dough in half over the filling. Crimp the edges to seal, either with a fork, or by making a series of very small overlapping folds with fingertips, pressing firmly. Transfer each pie to the prepared baking sheet, lightly dusting off any excess flour. Repeat with remaining crust and filling.
11. Gently brush each pie with egg wash. If dough has softened, refrigerate tray of pies for at least 15 minutes before baking.
12. Bake at 400º F for about 25 minutes, or until golden brown. Let cool briefly on trays before before serving, or remove to a wire rack to cool thoroughly before wrapping tightly and freezing. Frozen, pies may be reheated on a baking sheet in a 350º F oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until warmed through.
Mixed Berry Hand Pies Adapted from Gourmet Magazine
Makes 12 to 16 small pies
I’ve used blackberries and strawberries here, because that’s what was fresh at my market. Any berry would work here, or even any cut-up fruit you prefer, such as peaches, plums, cherries, or pears. The grated apple adds natural pectin, which thickens the filling just enough to shape the crust around.
For the crust: 3/4 cup unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), cold
1/4 cup non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening
11 1/4 ounces (2 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup ice-cold water, plus extra as needed
For the filling:
6 ounces (1 heaped cup) blackberries
6 ounces (1 heaped cup) strawberries
1 Golden Delicious apple
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper
6 tablespoons sugar
To finish pies:
Flour for rolling out crusts
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash
Coarse sugar for dusting (such as demerara or turbinado)
1. To make the crust, cut the butter and shortening into as small pieces as possible. Pile loosely on a plate, and place in freezer while preparing remaining ingredients, or for about 10 minutes.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. When butter and shortening are thoroughly firm, add to flour. Using fingertips or a pastry cutter, quickly toss and pinch until mixture resembles coarse meal. Large pea-sized lumps are okay.
3. Drizzle 1/3 cup ice water over the mixture, and quickly and gently fold in. Dough may look dry; try squeezing a bit together with fingertips. If mixture crumbles, add additional ice water by tablespoons, and gently mix together. If mixture holds together, turn out onto a work surface. Knead quickly and gently until mixture forms a cohesive ball, just a few turns, using heel of hand with a forward pressing motion to help flatten and incorporate lumps of fat. Shape dough into a flat disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
4. While dough chills, make filling. Rinse berries. Hull strawberries, and cut into halves, or quarters if large. Place in a medium saucepan. Peel apple, and grate directly into pan with berries. Add allspice and sugar, and place over medium heat. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium-low, and continue cooking until thick, 5 to 10 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent scorching. Remove from heat, and let cool completely. Filling may be made 1 day ahead, and refrigerated.
5. When ready to assemble pies, preheat oven to 375º F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. Remove dough from refrigerator and let stand 10 minutes at room temperature. (If kitchen is warm, divide dough in half, working with one piece at a time, and refrigerating other half to prevent butter melting.)
6. Liberally dust a work surface with flour. Using a floured rolling pin, roll dough to desired thickness (a scant 1/8 inch thick), lifting and turning dough and dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking. With a rolling cutter (such as a pizza cutter), cut squares of dough, about 4 inches on each side. Place scrap trimmings to one side, to be re-kneaded and re-rolled only once.
7. Place 1 generous tablespoon of filling in the center of each square. Brush the edges of the dough lightly with egg wash, and fold the dough over the filling to make a triangle. Using a fork, crimp the edges to seal. Transfer each pie to the prepared baking sheet, lightly dusting off any excess flour. Repeat with remaining crust and filling.
8. Gently brush each pie with egg wash, and sprinkle liberally with coarse sugar. If dough has softened, refrigerate tray of pies for at least 15 minutes before baking.
9. Bake at 375º F for 25 to 35 minutes, or until golden brown. Let cool briefly on trays before removing to a wire rack to cool thoroughly.
Quinoa, for those of you not familiar with it, is an ancient grain (well, pseudocereal, to be exact) from South America. Pronounced “KEEN-wa”, it’s a rare plant source of all the essential amino acids, making it a complete protein. In other words, it’s ridiculously good for you.
But more importantly, this tiny seed takes hardly any time to cook (less than 15 minutes), and is surprisingly flavorful, with a nutty aroma. I keep a stash in the pantry for those times when I’d really love some brown rice with dinner, but have no time to cook it. Nutritious and fast? Yes, please.
The first recipe below is for a savory quinoa salad, bursting with fresh asparagus and scallions sautéed in a blazingly hot skillet until just barely blackened. Lightly roasted grape tomatoes bring sweetness, and pockets of feta add saltiness and a creamy texture. A salad like this is a fantastic way to use any special finds from your local farmers’ market; just be sure to keep things cut fairly chunky. That way, each bite is something entirely new, every forkful bound to the next with the rustic flavor of the quinoa. This particular mixture of vegetables and herbs, however, is just amazing. It tastes like late Spring.
Second, I’ve adapted a red quinoa pudding recipe from Heidi Swanson at 101 Cookbooks. Similar to rice pudding, it’s just barely sweet, making it an unusual and hearty breakfast alternative for those of you who need that A.M. sugar rush. Of course, if you prefer (as I do) to serve it for dessert instead, you can scarcely find a more virtuous option. Like Heidi, I’ve used a red quinoa here, but it’s purely for aesthetic purposes; if you can only find the more common tan-colored sort, that will work just as well. A cluster of blackberries and toasted nuts on top turns this humble dish into a cooly elegant plate.
The only caveat in cooking with quinoa is that you must rinse it before cooking. Quinoa comes with a natural covering or coating that tastes bitter when cooked, but rinsing removes it. To rinse, use a fine mesh sieve to hold the seeds, and run water over them until it runs clear, using your hand to agitate them as you rinse. Let it drain slightly, and you’re good to go!
if it's too early for a cocktail, it's too early
Quinoa and Asparagus Salad with Roasted Grape Tomatoes Makes 4 to 6 servings
The small grape tomatoes are roasted in a low oven to dry and shrivel them slightly, concentrating their flavor into a sort of hybrid between raw and sun-dried tomatoes. If you have a grill, try grilling the asparagus and scallions instead of sautéing them, for a smoky depth. And while the grill is hot, throw a few pieces of meat on there; this salad is ideal for an cook-out.
For quinoa:
1 cup quinoa
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/3 cup white onion, diced
2 cups chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon salt
To finish salad:
1 pound asparagus
1 bunch scallions (about 6)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large bunch mint, leaves only, chopped (about 1/4 cup)
2 tablespoons chopped parsley, leaves only
8 ounces feta
1 to 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Salt and pepper, as needed
1. Preheat oven to 250º F. Halve tomatoes, and place on a rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season lightly with salt and pepper. Roast for 1 hour, or until slightly shriveled. Set aside to cool.
2. Meanwhile, rinse the quinoa in a fine mesh sieve until the water runs clear, swirling with hands to help agitate the grains. This rinses off a natural coating that, when cooked, tastes bitter. Let drain.
3. In a medium saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the quinoa. Stirring constantly to prevent burning, toast the quinoa until fragrant and grains separate, about 3 minutes. Slowly add the chicken stock (quinoa will bubble up and jump higher than you think) and the salt. Return to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes, or until tender and all liquid is absorbed. Let stand off heat at least 5 minutes before fluffing with a fork.
4. Trim ends from asparagus, and cut into 2 inch lengths. Set tips aside for the moment. Cut white and light green parts of scallions into 1 inch lengths, reserving green tops. Toss asparagus (except for tips) and chopped scallion parts with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.
5. Heat a large sauté pan over high heat until very hot. Add asparagus and scallion mixture, and sauté, tossing or stirring, until deeply browned or charred in places and crisp-tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Add asparagus tips, and cook 1 to 2 minutes more. Remove from heat.
6. In a large bowl, combine cooked quinoa with asparagus, scallions, and roasted tomatoes. Chop green scallion tops, mint, and parsley; add to bowl. Crumble feta in, and drizzle with sherry vinegar to taste. Toss gently, and correct seasoning as needed. Serve warm, cold, or at room temperature.
Red Quinoa Pudding Adapted from 101 Cookbooks
Makes 4 servings
This dish can be served at breakfast just as easily as it can for dessert. You can swap the sugar for honey if you like, and feel free to use regular quinoa if you can’t find the red type. Both options will work equally well.
1 cup red quinoa
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3 cups milk
3 tablespoons sugar
1 three-fingered pinch salt
1 cinnamon stick
3 pods cardamom, crushed, seeds only
For serving (optional): toasted pecans, fresh berries, honey, plain yogurt
1. Rinse the quinoa in a fine mesh sieve until the water runs clear, swirling with hands to help agitate the grains. This rinses off a natural coating that, when cooked, tastes bitter. Let drain.
2. In a medium saucepan, heat butter over medium-high heat. Add quinoa. Stirring constantly to prevent burning, toast the quinoa until fragrant and grains separate, about 3 minutes. Slowly add the milk (quinoa will bubble up and jump higher than you think), sugar, salt, cinnamon stick, and cardamom seeds.
3. Return to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes, or until tender. Not all liquid will be absorbed. Let stand off heat at least 5 minutes.
4. Remove cinnamon stick, and add additional milk to thin, if desired. Serve pudding topped with toasted pecans, fresh berries, dried fruit, a drizzle of honey, or a dollop of plain yogurt.
About a month ago, I was invited by my dear friend Taryn and her friend Cybelle to participate in a photo shoot at Taryn’s home here in Chicago. Taryn, a stylist, and Cybelle, a photographer, were looking to round out their already-impressive portfolios with food-centered work, and they needed some food to style and shoot. That’s where I came in.
The theme was “Savory and Sweet”, featuring one food prepared two ways (one savory, one sweet). We agreed on three distinct foods, for a total of six dishes; and other than that, I had free rein to do as I pleased.
Excellent.
This will be a three-part series of posts, the first today, the second on Wednesday, and the third on Friday. Taryn and Cybelle will also be featuring the photo shoot on their respective blogs, Sage And Style and Shoot Happens. I’m so thrilled to be a part of this collaboration, and am quite honored to be invited to join such a talented and delightful couple of ladies. I had an absolute blast spending the day with them, me in the kitchen, while Cybelle flitted around, snapping shot after shot from every angle, and Taryn made sure each errant crumb was ready for his close-up with her staggering library of props.
just a few
And so, I bring you Savory and Sweet: Rhubarb. First up is an intoxicating Rhubarb Chutney, a savory condiment with layer after layer of flavor and heat; it’s a sophisticated, Indian-inspired match for any sort of grilled food you might be preparing on this Memorial Day, especially chicken or pork. I’ve had to make another batch for my own personal stash. For a special treat, serve guests a platter of thinly-sliced and peppery salami, a soft goat’s milk cheese, and this chutney, with crisp crackers alongside. Heaven.
The sweet counterpart is a Rhubarb-Orange Jam, which comes together in a flash, but tastes like you slaved all day over a hot stove for it. The woodsy and slightly minted hint of rosemary makes things interesting; on a thick slice of lavishly-buttered rustic bread, it was one of the best things I tried all day.
I’m going to let the pictures mostly speak for themselves, though you will find the recipes below. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and be sure to catch parts two and three later this week!
Any day that starts with tomato sandwiches is a good day.
breakfastchutney time
caramel, vinegar, onion, garlic, ginger, chili pepper
jam time
more to come!
Rhubarb Chutney Makes about 2 cups
This spicy-sweet chutney is a perfect match for chicken or pork, though it would be just as good on a rare hamburger or with grilled sausages. The layers of heat from the chili, the red pepper, and the black pepper are nothing short of seductive.
1 scant cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup tarragon vinegar, plus additional as needed
1 small white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, minced or grated
1 small green chili pepper (such as finger or jalapeño), minced
1 1/2 pounds rhubarb, chopped into 1 inch pieces
Peel of 1 lemon, cut off in long strips, and roughly chopped
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs thyme
1 tablespoon mustard seed
3/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
1 three-fingered pinch salt
1. In a light-colored medium pan, heat the sugar and water together over medium-high heat, stirring only until all sugar is dissolved. Do not stir after this, or the sugar may crystallize and turn into a mess of irreparable lumps. Let caramelize until light amber in color, tilting the pan and gently swirling to help caramelize evenly if needed. The caramel will burn in an instant, so don’t turn your back, but it should take around 3 to 5 minutes.
2. Very slowly and carefully, add the tarragon vinegar, a little at a time. The sugar will sputter furiously, so be careful. The caramel will harden at first, but will soften and dissolve shortly.
3. Add the onion, stir, and cook until softened and translucent, about 3 minutes. Stir in the garlic, ginger, and chili pepper, and cook for 1 minute.
4. Add the rhubarb and remaining ingredients. Stir, and reduce heat to medium or medium low, or to a brisk simmer. The chutney will begin to look dry, but will become more liquid as the rhubarb releases its moisture. Cook until rhubarb falls apart, about 15 minutes. Thin with additional tarragon vinegar if necessary; chutney should be quite thick, but not too sticky and jammy. Remove bay leaf and thyme stems before serving.
Rhubarb-Orange Jam Makes 2 to 3 cups
Don’t be scared of using the whole orange peel, pith and all, in this rustic jam. It lends a welcome complexity to the bitter notes brought also by the rhubarb and the lemon juice. This jam turns out quite rustic and chunky; if you prefer your jam more smooth, chop the ingredients more finely.
2 navel oranges
1 pound rhubarb, cut into 1 inch pieces
1/3 cup brandy
Juice from 1 lemon (2 to 3 tablespoons)
2 cups granulated sugar
1 heaped tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped finely
1. Quarter the oranges lengthwise. Slice the quarters crossways into very thin slices, discarding any seeds that may appear.
2. In a large pan, combine orange slices with all remaining ingredients. Bring to a brisk simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low. Stirring often to prevent scorching, simmer until rhubarb breaks down and mixture thickens, 15 to 20 minutes. Cool before serving.
I’m finally back in my own home, after an extended weekend of gloriously sunny and humid Florida weather. Everyone down there thought I was crazy, but I luxuriated in the sun and the thick air until I began sweating – and I’m not one who sweats easily. Oh, I miss getting slapped in the face with humidity the second you walk outside. *sigh*
We were graciously hosted by my boyfriend’s mother and siblings, and shortly before leaving Chicago, I decided to bring a little food-related hostess gift along. Looking for something simple and, owing to recent health issues within the family, something reasonably healthy (but still a wee bit indulgent), I came across these soft gingersnaps on David Lebovitz’s site.
The main thing that caught my eye was the word “nonfat” in the title. David Lebovitz may be many things, but a health-food junkie he ain’t; I don’t think I’ve ever seen that word on his blog before. If he’s talking about nonfat cookies, they’ve just got to be worth it.
More importantly, they were soft cookies, which are much more travel-friendly than crisp or crumbly cookies. After confirmation from the boyfriend regarding his mother’s preferred flavor of cookie (molasses), I had a winner.
I won’t post the recipe here, as I didn’t change a single thing; but you can find it here on Mr. Lebovitz’s site. (Well, okay, I did use some coarse demerara sugar to roll the dough in, and I made them quite small because I love tiny cookies, but those changes certainly don’t qualify as an adaptation.)
Despite my determination to not blog about a gift for someone else, as lovely and as delicious as these cookies were, I knew halfway through making them that I had to post something about them. This dough was so simple to pull together, and jammed full of robust and spicy flavors. The occasional chewy bit of candied ginger was a welcome treat in each bite, and the cinnamon-sugar coating provided not only a pretty sparkle, but also a light crunch.
One caveat, though: these cookies have a very short window in which they become perfectly cooked, and therefore remain properly soft. Bake them too long, and they turn slightly tough. I think I would recommend making them a bit bigger than I did, as the little darlings baked much faster than I anticipated; larger cookies would allow for a longer grace period between uncooked and overdone.
Otherwise, if you’re in search of a fantastic nonfat cookie, or a fantastic soft gingersnap, or perhaps a fantastic hostess gift, you surely can’t find a better choice than these cookies.
I might have let you know that I was going out of town for nearly a week. I had things that I meant to post before I left, but time got away from me, as it always manages to do. There’s lots of excitement in my life lately, and I’ve been devoting my time elsewhere.
But here are some spicy pork shoulder tacos I made! In the background is a plateful of cilantro, sliced Napa cabbage, and red onion. The glass of Bourbon is an homage to a local taco restaurant. which offers a daily whiskey special alongside their spectacular tacos.
More exciting things are coming in the near future, so stay tuned!
You’re the one reading cooking blogs and magazines every day, always trying to figure out what to cook next, often getting a little perturbed at restaurants because you know you could’ve cooked your entrée just a little bit better than the chef did. You’ve purposefully sought out recipes marked “difficult”. You’ve mastered pie crust, can roast the most succulent chicken in a five-mile radius, and can roll a perfect French omelette every flippin’ time.
And you still buy canned stock.
Don’t try to hide it behind the cans of tuna or the cereal boxes; I know it’s there. Maybe you buy the wax-coated aseptic boxes, or maybe you buy the jars of stock concentrate, but we all know what’s going on.
I know, because I used to be just like you.
Yes, for years, even a culinary school graduate like me, who prides herself on her homemade everything, couldn’t be bothered to make stock. For me, the problem wasn’t the requisite 4 hours of simmering, it was the ingredient list. The very specific ingredient list. The very specific ingredient list that, if deviated from, would turn any effort into nothing but a massive waste of time.
As I was taught, and as many recipes indicate, a proper homemade stock requires the following: bones, lots of them, and all from the same kind of animal; a meticulously diced mirepoix of onions, carrots, and celery, in a perfect 2:1:1 ratio; and a bouquet garni of parsley stems, bay leaves, fresh thyme, and black peppercorns, preferably tied up in a cheesecloth bag.
And people, I don’t mind spending time in the kitchen, but that’s an awful lot of work for something you can just buy at the store when the need arises.
So I made sure the need would arise only rarely. I learned to quietly avoid recipes that used words like “use homemade stock if possible”. I learned which purchased stocks were the best. I lived a risotto-less, chicken-soup-less, pan-sauce-less life. I carried a twinge of shame within me that I crushed easily and repeatedly with a flippant, “That’s too much trouble.”
I’m here to tell you that it’s all a lie. Stock is easy! I am now a converted stock-maker and -freezer. And therein lies the secret: the freezer. Well, the freezer, and a plastic zip-top bag.
It struck me like a great striking thing, when I recently read on a blog (which one is now forgotten, unfortunately) that there are brilliant people out there who save vegetable scraps and trimmings in bags in the freezer, solely for the purpose of making stock. They even had a clever name for it: a stock bag. Everything goes in one bag, then into the pot when there’s enough. I’ve ambitiously saved bones before (and then very un-ambitiously thrown them away months later) , but never thought to save vegetable odds and ends.
True, it’s not a classically correct stock, and you might never get the same result twice (which I find exciting), but it’s the simplest way I’ve heard yet to keep your fridge stocked with (ahem) stock. Whenever you cut up vegetables for anything, keep the scraps. Pile them all in a freezer zip-top bag. Everything goes here, as long as it’s been washed, from onion skins, to carrot peelings, to parsley stems, to snapped-off asparagus ends.
Whenever you have them, save bones of all sorts, wrapped in foil. Even shrimp shells will make an excellent stock. The only caveat is to avoid mixing meat and fish. Pork bones and chicken bones will go together, but not so much beef bones and a grouper skeleton. Other than that, it’s as simple as simple gets.
Here’s the method: empty the bag of frozen vegetable bits into the biggest pot you have. In this batch, I’ve got scallion ends, celery root skin, leek tops, shiitake stems, and lots of other random scraps. I happened to have half an ancient onion in the freezer (God knows why), so that went in as well.
Add any bones you’ve got, though this is actually optional! This is a pheasant carcass…
…and I threw in some chicken leg bones too, for good measure. If you remember, a bay leaf or two, and a small palmful of black peppercorns are nice additions, as is a branch of thyme, but it’s fine to leave them out too.
Cover everything with cold – that’s important – water. (Luckily for you, since all your vegetables are frozen and will chill your water further, even room temperature water will work here. Don’t use hot water, is all.) Things will float up as you add water; just gently push them down.
Bring everything just to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Depending on how frozen your vegetables are, and how cold your water is, your pot may condense.
If your pot is very full, things might not stay submerged as they simmer, which will lead to darkening (which you don’t want). If this is the case, cover the top with a round of parchment paper.
Simmer uncovered, or with the lid slightly askew, for at least 2 hours (3 if you’re using bones), and up to 5 or 6 hours for the most extraction of flavor. The timing is up to you; there’s no correct amount of time to simmer everything. Classically, they say to simmer at least 4 hours for stock with bones, but if you’ve only got 3, then I say it’s close enough. Simmering longer won’t do any harm, though, and it will probably make a more flavorful stock. Oh, and no stirring! Stirring will make a cloudy stock.
As it cooks, keep an eye on the liquid level. If it drops below the top of the ingredients, just add a little extra water. Things will start to look drab, as the color and flavor leaches out of the vegetables and into the liquid.
When the time is up, lift the solids out of the stock into a fine mesh strainer set over a large bowl. Press on them to extract as much liquid gold as possible, and then discard them. When all the big solid pieces are out of the pot, gently pour the stock through the strainer into the bowl. Straining like this (as opposed to dumping everything into the strainer all at once) will make for a less cloudy stock, and will make much less of a mess. (Trust me on this one.)
Cool the stock to room temperature as quickly as possible (but definitely within 2 to 3 hours). You can do this by splitting the stock into multiple smaller containers, or by setting the large bowl of stock in an ice bath. Do not simply put the huge bowl of hot stock into the refrigerator! Unless, that is, you’d like to spoil all the food in your fridge in one go.
Once the stock has cooled to room temperature, either freeze it or refrigerate it. If you’ve got no room in the fridge, you can reduce the strained stock by boiling it; add extra water back in whenever you need it.
stock photography
And that, Gentle Readers, is how I learned to stop worrying and make stock. Despite the lengthy description, it’s really this easy:
1. Put frozen vegetables and/or bones in pot.
2. Cover with water.
3. Simmer. Go about your day.
4. Strain and cool.
5. Profit.
No more excuses, now. Get yourself a gallon zip-top freezer bag, and start saving those scraps! They’ll add up before you know it, and you’ll soon be savoring your very own, very simple, homemade stock, ready for you to cook rice in, make soups with, deglaze pans, even make risotto with. I won’t fault you for keeping an emergency can of stock in the pantry, but you might end up forgetting all about it with the wealth of stock you’ll have in your freezer.
No Kentucky Derby party would be complete without a certain signature dessert. It’s a pie, full of chocolate chips and walnuts, with a slightly boozy Bourbon flavor to its creamy chess filling underneath that singular crackly top, all encased in a buttery crust that has just enough salt to keep things interesting.
But I’m not going to talk about that particular dessert.
That dessert, you see, is a Kentucky specialty called Derby-Pie®. Yes, with a hyphen and a trademark. And I can’t make one.
It’s not only because of the trademark that I can’t make a Derby-Pie®, but also because the maker, Kern’s Kitchen, guards the recipe more closely than Fort Knox. Only four people in the world know how they get that magical texture to the filling, with its flaky, crunchy top. It’s so crackly! And perfect! And crackly! And since embarking on a series of recipe testing to figure it out would mean certain disaster for my waistline, I think its a problem best left unresolved. I simply do not have the willpower to not eat such pies if they are sitting around.
What I will talk about, however, is the closest I’ve been able to come to mimicking that enviable pastry. There’s about a million “chocolate chip nut Bourbon pie” recipes out there, but most of them just end up being a gussied-up pecan pie, with a corn syrup base and some Bourbon half-heartedly tossed in. Tasty, but they’re about as close to the real thing as a man in a monkey suit.
This version does develop a crust on the top of the filling, but it’s a little thicker and less flaky than the original. It uses cornstarch to help develop this; sadly, I’ve heard through the culinary professional grapevine in Louisville that the original recipe uses no cornstarch. But in the absence of any truly reliable information, I’ll take whatever works.
I veered from the original by using pecans in my version, because I grew up on pecan pies like a good Southern girl, and I simply prefer them to walnuts. Use whichever one strikes your fancy, or even use a mixture of the two. But don’t dare skimp on the Bourbon. It may seem excessive, but I can assure you it’s just right. And I know from personal experience that no one will complain if you even tipple a little extra in. You know, on accident.
If you happen to be in Kentucky around Derby time (or any time, really), be sure to seek out a piece of this extraordinary dessert, preferably warmed, and served with a healthy spoonful of whipped cream on top. But for those of us who live elsewhere, we’ll have to settle for ordering one by mail, or endlessly trying to replicate the original. Don’t say I didn’t warn you and your waistline, though.
Bourbon Pecan Chocolate Pies for a Crowd Adapted from The Courier-Journal
Makes 36 tiny pies
I always prefer using good quality chocolate that I chop myself, as I love the various sizes of chunks mixed with the chocolate dust that results from chopping. Chocolate chips, however, are an easier option here; Kern’s Kitchen uses Nestle brand chips in their Derby-Pie®. For these tiny pies, use miniature chips if at all possible, as they’ll distribute more evenly throughout the filling. As for crust, I don’t specify any recipe, as people tend to be devoted to their own particular methods (or to store-bought). Any crust will work in this recipe, as long as it works for you.
7 1/2 ounces (2 cups) pecans
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
4 large eggs, at room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cornstarch
1/3 cup Bourbon (more or less)
12 ounces (2 cups) good quality chocolate, chopped
Enough pie dough to make three 9 inch pies
1. Preheat oven to 325º F, using convection heat if available.
2. Spread pecans evenly on a baking sheet, and toast in oven for 6 to 8 minutes, or until fragrant. Chop while still warm, and set aside to cool.
3. While pecans toast, melt butter, and set aside to cool.
4. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, sugars, and salt until just blended. Whisk in butter. Place cornstarch in a small bowl and stir in enough Bourbon to make a smooth slurry, 1 to 2 tablespoons. Add cornstarch slurry and remaining Bourbon to egg and sugar mixture, and whisk until smooth. Stir in chopped pecans and chocolate. Set filling aside while preparing crusts.
5. Roll out pie dough on a lightly floured work surface. Using a 3 1/2 inch round cutter, cut circles of dough. Place one circle in each cup of a nonstick muffin tin (or well-buttered and -floured regular muffin tin). Gently press the dough into the corners, taking care not to push holes in or stretch the dough. Dough will only come partially up the sides of each cup. (If making more than one pan at a time, place finished pan of crusts in refrigerator to chill while working on other pan. If you only have one pan, refrigerate remaining dough while waiting for first batch to bake.)
6. Stir filling, as the chocolate and nuts will have separated out while standing. Spoon enough filling into each cup to come up just below the top of the crust. Do not overfill, as the filling will puff in the oven, and will stick to the pan.
7. Bake at 325º F for around 30 minutes (convection oven) or up to 40 minutes (regular oven), or until puffed and golden brown, and filling feels set when pressed gently. When in doubt, turn oven off and let pies remain in oven 10 to 15 minutes more. Let cool in pans on a rack. Pies will freeze beautifully; thaw at room temperature, warming briefly in a 350º F oven before serving, if desired.
Note:
1. To make a single 9 inch pie, halve recipe. Bake at 325º F for 50 to 60 minutes, or until done.
