Seedlings

For the first time in my entire life, I'm cultivating green things. That are more or less thriving. Okay, there was the oregano plant that probably got over-watered and didn't have a hole in the bottom. And the growing space is very limited - a fire escape and part of a roof that are next to air condensers and other machinery coming from greasy restaurants mean the air quality is probably pretty terrible.


Two months ago I bought three geranium plants and stuck them in a window box. Since then our little adventure in horticulture's expanded to include herbs, more flowers, three kinds of tomatoes, a lettuce plant, and a banana pepper plant that's completely taken off.

Today, I harvested the first pepper. The first thing I've ever grown - and not killed from laziness or neglect. Working from home gives a splendid excuse to take a break and climb out the window to check on the plants. Having an awesome partner who often helps with watering is another significant factor in ensuring plant success rates.

The geraniums and marigolds amaze me. They bloom for a few days, then wither in the sun. Run fingers through the heads to shake off and remove the spent flowers (dead-heading - it's actually a term!). Initially they look a little barren, but given some time, water and sunshine, and I wake in the morning to a brand new patch of fiery red blossoms, greeting me in the morning sun. They've grown. They're thriving.

It's a metaphor, probably.

Good things take time. I'm historically short on patience - Keith referred to me the other day as Hurricane Jenny. It's probably one of the reasons I've killed so many plants - results didn't happen right away, and other things took over the importance of water, sunshine, and time.

Building a community is a lot like cultivating a garden, I guess. At this point I'm still tilling the soil. Not sure what's gonna go where.

But the physical manifestation of tiny tomatoes in my hand is a good reminder that's it's starting to all come together. Water, sunlight and time will help us strengthen our new roots.

There's Always Pie

New life motto.

This year, the changing of the seasons seemed to bring a gust of contentiousness alongside dropping temperatures and turning leaves. Ugly rants from people on all sides - blaming liberals, conservatives, entitled Gen Y-ers, Baby Boomers, poor people, rich people, Republicans, Democrats. Racism. Shootings. Even locally an embattled local race for mayor and City Council riles up neighbors and co-workers, each of us convinced we are right. Hell, in OTR it feels like Main Street versus Vine Street. East and West. New and old. Poor and Rich. Right and wrong?

It's exhausting. Reading story after story, comment after comment filled with bitter, angry words. Hatefulness directed towards our fellow humans. Participating in it makes me sad and tired and doubting humanity. Enough is enough. I beat a retreat from the buzz and bustle of an OTR weekend and got back to basics. Friday was spent solitarily chopping veggies; my kitchen's been blessed this summer by the fruits of my guy's family garden.

Homemade butternut squash ravioli with brown butter, hazelnuts, and homemade sauce.

There is nothing more cathartic than Dylan on vinyl, red wine in the glass, and the simple monotony of vegetable prep. Ripe, bursting tomatoes simmered slowly into sauce. Six little butternut squashes were carefully peeled, scooped, and chopped into a dice, frozen for future soups and stews. The worries of the world fall away in the kitchen.

I packed up and headed back to Indiana to see family on Saturday and Sunday. Introduced my sister and her roommate to John Prine and the complexities of homemade ravioli. Together we made a pie to bring to dinner with my grandparents the next day.

I spent Sunday morning learning the intricacies of canning applesauce from my mother. The smell of cooking apples and the rattle of the pressure cooker were an integral part of childhood - I don't even remember what Mott's tastes like. There are

There's ALWAYS pie.

many paths to adulthood; my final step (marriage, babies, and home ownership notwithstanding) was learning how to can applesauce. I returned to Cincy with a small pressure cooker and my great-grandmother's Foley Food Mill. She ran her applesauce "for company" through twice, and loaded it up with extra sugar. Pure bliss tastes like superfine applesauce - and she was happy to see her grandbabies running around like banshees hopped up on liquid candy.

When you've grown up riding combines, taking back roads to Grandma's and other details of life in or near the country, the Rye Pecan Pie we unveiled for my grandfather Sunday afternoon tastes like home. Two sticks of butter and enough brown sugar, molasses and corn syrup to sink a ship envelope the tastebuds like a soft, billowy-bosomed hug from Grandma herself. It's adapted from Diner, a restaurant known for their fried chicken, in Brooklyn. It called for a springform pan, but that wasn't available in my sister's college kitchen - an 8x8 cake pan worked just as well. It took a while to make - but I'm learning that these good things do. Katy, Kayleigh and I sat up, talking and playing cards, waiting patiently through all the steps of the pie.

Love you, Grandpa.

Grandpa loves pecans. He always has a bag of them and shells them on Sundays when he's cheering on (or verbally lambasting) his football teams. Before I left for college we had Sunday dinner every week at their place without fail for the better part of ten years. He's been an important part of my life - instilled  in me a love of trains and respect for hard work and doing things right at an early age. He's not doing so well as of late -  coming home and seeing him was definitely the right call. I returned to Cincinnati with a slightly sunnier outlook. If worse comes to worse, I'll blow up my tv, throw away my paper, move to the country, and build me a home. 

Rye Pecan Pie, from this recipe.

Serves about 12
Takes 2-4 hours.

Here's what you need:

FOR THE CRUST:

• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 1/2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1/2 pound cold unsalted butter, cut into dice
• 1/2 cup ice water, more as needed
• About 5 cups dried beans (for baking)

FOR THE FILLING:

• 5 eggs
• 1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/3 cup molasses, dark or unsulfured
• 1/3 cup light corn syrup
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3 tablespoons rye or bourbon, not more than 90 proof
• 2 cups finely chopped pecans
• 2 1/2 cups pecan halves

Here's what you do with it:

• Make the crust: In a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, combine flour, salt and white sugar at low speed. I used the food processor. Add butter and mix until pea-size lumps form. Raise the speed to medium-low and add 1/2 cup ice water in a slow, steady stream, mixing just until dough holds together. To test, pinch a small amount of dough. If it is crumbly, add more ice water, one tablespoon at a time. Shape dough into a ball and wrap it loosely in plastic, then roll it into a disk. Refrigerate at least one hour, or up to 3 days, before rolling. (Dough can be frozen for up to a month.)
• Open a 10-inch springform pan, flip the bottom over so the outside surface faces in, then close. This will make removing the pie easier when it is done, by preventing the dough from sinking into the pan’s crease. OR use an 8x8 cake pan, well greased with non stick spray. On a lightly floured surface, roll chilled dough into a circle 16 inches in diameter. Lift it and let it settle into pan, fitting the dough down into the edges. Press the sides firmly against pan and pinch around the top rim. Trim dough with kitchen scissors so it hangs over the rim by one inch, reserving excess. Refrigerate in pan until very cold and firm, at least 45 minutes.
• Heat oven to 400 degrees. Prick bottom of dough with a fork. Lay a piece of parchment or wax paper in pan, then a piece of aluminum foil. Fill foil lining with dried beans to top of pan. Bake 15 to 25 minutes, until the sides of the crust have set and turned a light golden brown. Remove from oven and lift out the beans, foil and parchment. Patch any holes with reserved dough, pressing firmly. Bake 10 to 15 minutes more, until golden brown. Let cool at least 30 minutes before filling.
• Fill the pie: Heat oven to 325 degrees. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, brown sugar, melted butter, molasses, corn syrup, vanilla, salt and rye or bourbon. Place baked pie shell, still in the pan, on a sheet pan. Gently pour in the filling. Sprinkle chopped pecans evenly over surface. Working from outside in, arrange pecan halves in concentric circles, without overlapping, until entire surface is covered. (Use only as many as needed.)
• Bake 50 to 60 minutes, just until filling is firm and a wooden skewer comes out clean when inserted into center. (Do not worry if the overhanging crust becomes very dark brown.) Let cool completely. Use a serrated knife to saw off all overhanging pie crust. Carefully remove outer ring of pan. Slice with a large, very sharp knife and serve with whipped cream.

PIE-Stravaganza

We have some catching up to do. Two weeks ago I made a delicious Jumbleberry Grunt, but due to Final Friday activities (and a last minute call to action), none of my friends made it to my apartment to partake with me. More like a GRUMBLEberry grunt. So I put it away and went out with friends, and Liz and I ate it over the next few days for breakfast. Sucks to your ass-mar.

Last week was a special occasion that called to pull out ALL the stops. My fella Keith got a new job in a different city. He's sampled nearly every pie I've made, and I didn't want him to miss out on too many... so this weekend I made four pies. Three for a going away shindig; the last one we'll talk about another time.

It doesn't really get better than friends and pie. Unless it's friends and THREE pies. True to form, the pie recipes took a bit of work, but the results were definitely worth the effort.

Rhubarb Raspberry Cobbler with Cornmeal Biscuits was the easiest. I threw it together last and it cooked up easily. Finding myself without cornmeal, I subbed in instant grits (ground in the food processor to make them a little finer). They worked out splendidly. Normally one thinks of strawberries and rhubarb, but the raspberries added a nice twist.

Lemon Confit Shortbread Tart lived up to its name. The confit itself could've used some more sugar, but the crust was buttery and sweet, and adding a little whipped cream toned down the pucker a little. I'd never made confit before, and was surprised that the peel candied so well. Be prepared - the sour will sucker punch a little, but it's really delicious.

The last pie was my favorite. Every fruit pie made so far could easily be created sans crust for an incredible ice cream topping, or just eaten alone- and I could eat a pint of this filling all by myself. Plum Chutney Crumb Pie got started two days early. Boiling down plums with rosemary, black pepper (yup!), star anise, and cinnamon stick created a complex chutney that was unexpectedly tasty. I was nervous it would be too savory, but the balance worked. Well done, New York Times.

The kitchen was a disaster zone, but the Neon's courtyard was perfectly peaceful for a late summer evening. Lots of people came by for well wishing, and by the end of the night all the pies were pawned off.

Of Desserts and Disaster Movies

*jaws theme here*

pie for everyone at Rhinehaus!

 Last week we discovered the comically bad made-for-TV movie Sharknado returned to the small screen. There was only one option for Thursday Pie, and it was bloody delicious. Perhaps you've heard of Sharknado? A freak storm sweeps over LA, and a few brave souls (and their myriad of weapons) are the only ones who can save the city from being destroyed by thousands of flying sharks. Sounds bad? It was terrible.

Some movies are so corny and ridiculous they must be celebrated. Sharknado falls into this category. The Sour Cherry Pie was a perfect fit, and was a great use for the GIANT jar of sour cherries purchased at the Meditteranean store at Findlay Market. It was also an actual pie - with a double crust and everything. Slowly but surely my pie-making skills are improving.

I gave myself enough time to let the dough chill - Liz and I went to go give blood (only appropriate - and it's really easy at Hoxworth!) before putting it all together. I briefly considered making little sharks and people out of the crust, but the final result made great use of the negative space. A quick and easy hour in the oven, and it was time to head to the bar for our own personal feeding frenzy.

My buddy Jack owns the local hipster sports bar, and Sharknado viewing fell after a 1pm Reds game and a slow soccer day. As I don't have cable, watching in public was our only option (and a fun one at that!) We ordered pizzas, let the pie cool, and turned on the closed captioning to better experience the terrible dialogue in the bar.

There's only one way to successfully get through a bad movie, and that is with a drinking game. We would NEVER drink to excess, but with some local brews and reasons to watch this silly movie, by the time it was over the entire bar was getting into the spirit of the game and shouting out whenever there was a newscast, someone got killed (not by a shark), or Tara Reid was being belligerent (which happened more often than you'd think.)

The pie was good. Really, really good. The crust held the filling well, it wasn't mushy or spilling juicy cherries everywhere, and it served a good thirteen or so of us. The sour cherries were just tart enough. This was maybe the best pie yet.

If the movie ever comes back to TV, gather some friends, pie, and brews - you'll be in for a really fun night.

Special Sharknado Shot and Official Rules

Sharknado Drinking Rules (for those responsible and of legal age):

Yell loudly and take a sip every time...

• The camera angle is from the Shark's Point of View
• There is a news broadcast
• Someone is killed mid-sentence
• There is stock footage
• There is terrible CGI
• Someone is killed, not by a shark
• A shark is killed with something that's not normally a weapon
• There is a bad pun
• Tara Reid is belligerent

Take the Sharknado Shot in memory of the Rather Young and Fit Elders in the Nursing Home who get Sharks Rained Upon Them (spoiler, sorry...)

• Blue Curacao
• Sour Mix
• Absolut Citron
• Grenadine Floater

Sharknado Sour Cherry Pie - adapted from this recipe

takes 1 hour 45 minutes, plus chill time for dough

serves 10-12

This is what you need:

•  1 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, more for rolling out dough
• 3/8 teaspoon kosher salt
• 15 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into pieces
• 1 cup sugar
• 5 tablespoons tapioca starch
• 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 2 pounds sour cherries (about 6 cups), rinsed and pitted - one 54 oz jar works nicely. Drain most of the juice. 
• 1 tablespoon brandy
• 3 tablespoons heavy cream
• Demerara sugar, for sprinkling.

This is what you do with it:

•  To make dough: in bowl of a food processor pulse together flour and salt just to combine. Add butter and pulse until chickpea-size pieces form. Add 3 to 6 tablespoons ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time, and pulse until mixture just comes together. Separate dough into 2 disks, one using 2/3 dough, the other using the remaining. Wrap disks in plastic and refrigerate at least 1 hour (and up to 3 days) before rolling out and baking.
• Heat oven to 425 degrees. Place larger dough disk on a lightly floured surface and roll into a 12-inch circle, about 3/8-inch thick. Transfer to a 9-inch pie plate (sprayed with non-stick cooking spray). Line dough with foil and weigh it down with pie weights. Bake until crust is light golden brown, about 30 minutes.
• While pie crust is baking, prepare filling. Place cherries in a bowl and add sugar and tapioca starch - more tapioca = firmer filling. Drizzle in brandy and toss gently to combine.
• When pie crust is ready, transfer it to a wire rack to cool slightly and reduce heat to 375 degrees. Remove foil and weights. Scrape cherry filling into pie crust.
• Place smaller disk of dough on a lightly floured surface and roll it 3/8-inch thick. Use a round cookie cutter (or several round cookie cutters of different sizes) to cut out circles of dough. Arrange circles on top of cherry filling in a pattern of your choice. like, say, the mouth of a shark.
• Brush top crust with cream and sprinkle generously with Demerara sugar. Bake until crust is dark golden brown and filling begins to bubble, 50 minutes to 1 hour. Transfer pie to a wire rack to cool for at least 2 hours, allowing filling to set before serving. Goes well with disaster movies.          

Lazy Sonker is the worst name for a pie. Ever.

Everything about this pie recipe is a lie. First off, New York Times, what the freakin' heck is a sonker? It sounds vaguely onomatopoeic, like a noise a sad, stuffed up goose might make. Definitely not a pie (as we discussed last week.) A Way With Words defines it as such:

Is this a sonker? Only because I said so.

 sonker n. a type of berry pie or cobbler. Editorial Note: This appears to be specific to the area near Mount Airy, N.C. Etymological Note: Perh. fr. Sc./Brit. Eng. songle, singill, single, ‘a handful of grain or gleanings,’ or from Sc. sonker ‘to simmer, to boil slightly.’

A quick search reveals that the NYT is pretty into sonkers, but no one else is, really. Because I had no basis for comparison, I can't be sure I did this recipe correctly. I will tell you one thing - ain't nothing lazy about this sonker. I ended up using 4 different pans to whip this up, one of which got scorched and is STILL soaking in my kitchen sink days later. There's a lot of butter in the dish, and the final result looks nothing like Serious Eat's version of a Peach Sonker. It also took MUCH longer than the prescribed 35 minutes- I finally took it out of the oven after an hour and it was still a little wobbly in the middle.

the tiniest pie eater weighs in.

It was very well received at Bluegrass in the Park, and we made some new friends - specifically a super cute little girl who was determined to scale the picnic basket, Rob's knees, and anything else more than a foot off the ground, anchored or not. We shared the sonker with her folks and had a nice time listening to Hickory Robot. If you haven't had a chance to check out Washington Park's Bluegrass Thursdays, do it before the season is over!

Lazy Sonker- adapted from this recipe
Takes an hour - this is a lie. It takes the better part of an hour and a half.
Serves 8-10

Here's what you need:

• 8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter
• 4 heaping cups (about 1 1/2 pounds) hulled strawberries (halved if large) or pitted cherries
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons self-rising flour
• 1 cup milk
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Here's what you do with it:

• Heat oven to 350 degrees. Put 5 tablespoons butter in a 9-by-12-inch baking pan, and place in oven; remove when melted.
• In a large saucepan, combine fruit, vanilla, 1/4 cup sugar, 1 tablespoon butter and 1 cup water. Place over low heat and simmer until fruit is slightly tender, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Drain fruit, reserving liquid and fruit separately; there should be about 1 cup liquid.
• In a small saucepan, combine remaining 2 tablespoons butter, 2 tablespoons of the sugar and 2 tablespoons of the flour. Place over medium heat and stir until butter melts and mixture is well blended and thickened, about 2 minutes. Add 1/2 cup of the liquid from the fruit, and whisk until smooth. Add another 1/2 cup liquid and whisk again. Add mixture to fruit, combining well. - do this quick or risk scorching the bottom of your pan. 
• In a medium bowl, combine milk, remaining 1 cup flour, the salt and remaining 3/4 cup sugar. Whisk to consistency of pancake batter. So I don't know about ya'all, but my pancake batter is generally a little runny. Maybe this was a problem? It drizzled funny and sunk under the fruit. Not sure if this was the intended result, but it was a little weird. 
• Pour fruit mixture into the pan with the melted butter. Carefully pour batter over fruit, taking care to spread it so it touches the edge of the pan. There will be some bare spots. Bake until crust is golden, about 35 minutes.             

Takes One Hour, Largely Unattended.

Rhubarb Crisp

Not only is that the story of my life, it's also the best byline in a recipe EVER- and happened to be in this week's dessert.

I have a hard time with recipes. My mind moves quickly, and sometimes (most of the time), it's more interesting to use the strict set of guidelines and measurements - well intentioned though they may be-  as a structural skeleton, or sorts. Guidelines, even.

For this project I've been trying hard to follow the recipes as written- within reason (didn't buy a loose-bottomed tart pan.) There's a fine line between a good modification and an overzealous idea gone horribly wrong. This week, for instance, I pan fried some zucchini and threw together a breading for it without tasting the mixture. One of the spice mixes I put in was mostly salt. The finished zucchini was so salty it was nearly bitter; I could feel my veins crusting over in the first bite. It was an utterly over-seasoned failure.

My most recent pie, I'm proud to say, was not quite so terrible. I made a few additions to the original recipe - and they turned out quite nicely. After buying oranges and lemons specifically for the pie, I was disappointed reading it only called for a few tablespoons of zest and juice... so I increased them. I also had some fresh rosemary left over from the Lumenocity picnic, so I sprinkled it on top of the rhubarb mixture, and like the plum crostata, the herbs brought out new flavors in the fruit. Recipe additions will be italicized below.

Just as recipe following and improv is a delicate balance, so also is the definition of "pie," apparently. I have a beef with the New York Times. When deciding to do this 20 Pies in 20 Weeks thing, I was under the impression that the desserts I'd be making would all have at least one crust, if not two, and be an exercise in creating pastry. Imagine my surprise when nearly half of the recipes listed in "20 Pies You Should Make This Summer" were not pastry crusted pies at all but instead crumbles, crisps, sonkers, and grunts? (Yeah, those last two are actually words for dessert.) When I tell people about the project and start listing the ones already made, they immediately object and rightly point out that a crostada is not a pie. You're really ruining my crediblity, NYT. Come on!

Anyway.

Last week I brought this Rhubarb Crisp along to a cookout with some new friends out in the burbs. The crickets chirped, the burgers sizzled right off the grill, and everyone was excited to try rhubarb. My mom's neighbor has an incredible garden, and each year harvests more rhubarb than she can handle. Mom blanched and froze three quarts for me, which really sped up the process. The crisp is an easy, delicious recipe. The topping comes together really quickly (and tastes a lot like oatmeal cookie dough), and my additions help distinguish this from your run-of-the-mill fruit crisp.


Rhubarb Crisp - modified from this recipe
Serves 8
Takes about one hour, largely unattended.

Here's what you need:

• 6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small pieces, plus more for greasing pan
• 2 1/2 to 3 pounds rhubarb, trimmed, tough strings removed, and cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces (about 5 to 6 cups)
• 1/4 cup white sugar
• Juice and zest from one lemon and one orange - can be lest if you don't want it to be as citrusy
• Leaves from 2 sprigs of fresh rosemary
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, or to taste
• Pinch salt
• 1/2 cup rolled oats
• 1/2 cup pecans.

Here's what you do with it:

• Heat oven to 375 degrees. Grease an 8- or 9-inch square baking or gratin dish with a little butter. Toss rhubarb with white sugar, orange or lemon juice and zest, and spread in baking dish. Top with rosemary leaves.
• Put the 6 tablespoons butter in a food processor along with brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and salt, and pulse for about 20 or 30 seconds, until it looks like small peas and just begins to clump together. Add oats and pecans and pulse just a few times to combine.
• Crumble the topping over rhubarb and bake until golden and beginning to brown, 45 to 50 minutes.  

Portable Pie Preparation - Tips for Packing Phenomenal Picnics

Yoda definitely had it right. Do or do not, there is no try. I generally live my life with this philosophy in mind. It tends to lead to me going a little overboard when it comes to costumes, events, and especially food. Being awesome takes a little more work, but I've never regretted putting in extra effort. This weekend was no different.

Due to a conference on Thursday, this week's pie got pushed back to Saturday, and was definitely worth the wait. This weekend marked an extraordinary event in my neighborhood - a musical light show projected on the facade of one of the most majestic buildings in America. Lumenocity. A jumble of humanity - tens of thousands of us- crowded together in Washington Park to enjoy each other's company and world class entertainment from the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Cincinnati Ballet, and May Festival Chorus. Liz had a solo as part of May fest, and we asked our moms to come down and enjoy the evening with us and some friends.

Music Hall was all lit up!

We decided a picnic dinner was in order, as we needed to arrive early (3 hours early!) to get a good seat on the lawn. Such a spectacular event demanded a spectacular spread. Liz and I spent Friday afternoon brainstorming food ideas that would be easy to eat, not terribly messy, not especially necessary to keep warm or cold, and of course delicious. Friends contributed to the spread, and we ended up with a portable feast, with pie and homemade ice cream (You guys, Jeff made me my own ice cream. Because he is amazing.) as the pièce de résistance before the show.

a feast!

The evening's menu was as follows: zucchini, sun-dried tomato and roasted red pepper asiago scones with salami and goat cheese, shrimp spring rolls with two dipping sauces, fancy soaked fruit, heirloom tomato salad with pomegranate molasses and sumac, chips and homemade guacamole, mango iced tea. And the pie? Brown Butter Nectarine Cobbler. Friends brought tabbouleh, dolmas, melon and serrano ham. We stuffed our faces and cleaned up in time for the music to start.

Eat ALL the pie!

It seems like a lot. Okay... it was a lot. But there were a few things that made execution and clean-up easy and enjoyable. I'll let you in on a few secrets to having easy-peasy picnics.

so much food.

1. Foldable blankets are key. - I got a fold up blanket as a high school graduation gift and it's been used hundreds of times. It zips up into a little tote with a strap and a pocket - super convenient for keeping keys and such, and easy to take anywhere. I have no idea where it came from, but Zip and Go makes a similar style - you can even get it monogrammed. My mom brought homemade quillows - quilts that fold into pillows - these set our picnic stage and kept us comfy and dry.


2. Trash bags and paper towels - seems like a no brainer, but keep one plastic bag handy for trash, and the other to keep used dishes and silverware. We brought disposable bowls for pie, but had plastic cups, plates, and silverware. Gotta stay green! Paper towels are essential for the inevitable spills that happen when many adults are grouped close together on blankets.

3. Lukewarm food that isn't red. - food that isn't super crumbly, prone to spill or stain, or go bad if it sits for a minute. We really liked the spring rolls we brought - using rice paper was a fun way to get in snackable, crunchy veggies.

4. Separate your baskets if there are a lot of people. - For the crew of nearly 10, we brought one basket that just had utensils, one that held the food, and a rolling cooler with ice, ice cream, and drinks. Seems like a lot? Yeah. But it worked really well.

Oh yeah, this is supposed to be a pie post. Oops.

 If anyone is still reading at this point, I did make a pie. It was super easy to put together - easily the easiest so far. You could probably sub in nearly any fruit, though the local Indiana peaches from Madison's really hit the spot!

Brown Butter Nectarine Cobbler - modified from this recipe

I upped the recipe 1.5x, it served 12!
Takes about an hour and a half unless you're quick.

Here's what you need:

• 3 cups peaches or nectarines, sliced (about a pound)
• 5 ounces sugar (about 3/4 cup)
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 ounces flour (about 3/4 cup)
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 cup sliced almonds or almond meal
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 tablespoons Demerara sugar. - which is like sugar in the raw, or cane sugar. 

Here's what you do with it:

• Heat the oven to 350 degrees. In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the fruit slices, 1/4 cup sugar and lemon juice. Stirring constantly, bring the mixture to a simmer, then take the pan off the heat.
  
• In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter and cook, swirling the pan occasionally, until it smells very nutty, turns golden, and flecks of dark brown appear, 2 to 3 minutes. Pour the brown butter into an 8-inch-by-8-inch baking dish.
  
• In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, baking powder and salt. Pour the buttermilk into the dry ingredients and mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened. Scrape the batter on top of the brown butter, use a spatula to even out the batter but be careful not to mix it into the butter. Scatter the nectarine slices and juice on top of the batter without stirring. Sprinkle with the almonds, nutmeg and Demerara sugar. Bake until golden brown, 50 to 55 minutes.

Zen and the Art of Cherry Cobbler

There's something soothing about the precision in baking. I'm not normally a exacting person in the kitchen. Eight times out of ten my experiments work out well - the other two times it's generally a quasi-inedible disaster. It's a good ratio, but the other problem with 'a little of this, a little of that, oh what's this random thing I have in the fridge, that would be really good with this other random thing' - is that it's nearly impossible to replicate. Constant reinvention keeps me fresh, but I really need to be better about writing down my successes if I ever want to eat them more than once.

What did you do to those poor cherries?!

Following the recipes from the New York Times page (well, mostly...) is an exercise in mindfulness and stretching my fine motor skills - being more precise, leveling off the dry ingredients, triple checking the wet. Getting fingers and countertops sticky in the process of creation is a wonderful respite from my extremely screen-focused life. And while my previous efforts were solo, this go-round I had help from my fantastic roommate Liz. She pitted two and a half pounds of cherries, surrendering her porcelain fingers to a hue more appropriate for a crazed serial killer.

In honor of my younger sister's 22nd birthday last Thursday I asked her to choose which pie to make this time around. She's had an aversion to birthday cake for about ten years, and consequently always has a pie on her day. I felt it was only appropriate. She picked Cherry Cobbler with Almond-Buttermilk Topping. Which isn't technically a pie. Take it up with the Times, they're the ones who picked the recipes.

This recipe was relatively healthy (considering it's a pie). I appreciated the mix of flours - the almond meal was excellent and contributed to the texture. I didn't have any almond extract, so the trusty bourbon vanilla was substituted. Make some bourbon vanilla, ya'll. Two vanilla beans in a jar filled with bourbon. Let it sit for two weeks. I use it ALL THE TIME and it's so delicious.

At any rate, the cherries were pitted, the topping came together like a dream, and several friends gathered in my apartment to try it out. Though it was late in London (Katy is overseas for the summer as an au pair), I called her on FaceTime and we sang her Happy Birthday from across the pond. There's one serving of the dish sitting in my freezer, awaiting her return. She's pretty incredible and deserves some yummy pie when she gets home from her adventures. It was really delicious. So delicious that I forgot to get a picture of the finished result. 5chw4r7z snapped a pic of the decimated dish.

Okay, here we go.

Cherry Cobbler with Almond-Buttermilk Topping - adapted from this recipe

takes about an hour, depending on how fast you can pit cherries (if you have someone else pitting cherries while you make the topping, then it comes together quickly!)
can be prepared ahead of time and re-warmed later
serves about 8. it could easily be doubled - everyone definitely wanted seconds!

Here's what you need:

(For Filling)

• 1 1/2 pounds cherries, stemmed and pitted (about 5 cups)
• 1/3 cup sugar
• Juice of one lemon
• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• 1/4 teaspoon almond extract - or bourbon vanilla. And if it's vanilla, up it to a tablespoon.

(For Topping)

• 1/2 cup whole-wheat pastry flour
• 1/2 cup almond meal, also called almond flour or almond powder (1 1/2 ounces)
• 1/2 cup fine cornmeal
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 5 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 2/3 cup buttermilk - I used 2/3 of a cup of milk with 3 tablespoons of lemon juice added. Because who buys buttermilk on purpose? Not this guy.

Here's what you do with it:

• Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 2-quart baking dish. Place the cherries in a large bowl, and add the sugar, lemon juice and all-purpose flour. Carefully mix them together with a rubber spatula or a large spoon until the sugar and flour have dissolved into the liquids. Transfer to the baking dish, making sure to scrape out all of the liquid in the bowl.
• Sift all of the dry ingredients for the topping. (If you can't find your sifter, just put it all in the food processor because it's going to basically sift it for you.) Place in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade, and pulse a few times. Add the butter, and pulse to cut in the butter until the mixture looks like coarse cornmeal. Turn on the food processor, and pour in the buttermilk with the machine running. As soon as the dough comes together, stop the machine.
• Spoon the topping over the cherries by the heaped tablespoon. The cherries should be just about covered but may peek out here and there. Place in the oven, and bake 35 to 40 minutes until the top is nicely browned and the cherries are bubbling. Remove from the heat, and allow to cool to warm before serving. Serve warm (heat in a low oven for 15 minutes if necessary before serving).

Korma Points

Despite the temperatures outside, I've decided spring is here, and am acting accordingly. Lots of changes made my world topsy-turvy lately, and yesterday I spent the better part of six hours cleaning and reorganizing my apartment in an effort to restore some concrete order to my world.

Declutter. Throw away the trash and debris accumulated from too much junkmail and time spent rushing place to place. Get as much furniture as possible off the wood floors. Shake out the rugs. Sweep the floors. Mop the floors. Old English out the scratches. Dust the surfaces. Vacuum the carpets. Roller brush the upholstery in a vain attempt to remove cat hair. Put everything back. Wipe down the counters. Do the dishes. Now what?

pretty, right?

I was on a domestic streak and didn't want to break it. The only next step was to cook dinner. A delicious, comforting, quasi-healthy dish whose scent would linger and remind me that I am, indeed, capable of great things. This dish hits the spot. Creamy, a little sweet, definitely spicy, and chock full of delicious goodies - I used chicken, sweet potatoes, peas, red pepper, and a liberal amount of golden raisins and cashews. A treasure trove in every bite. 

This recipe marks one of the first times I've ever used the cooking technique of mise-en-place - you know, chopping all my stuff up into cute little bowls BEFORE throwing it in the pan, preventing the usual scramble of chopping and tossing and general mayhem that generally happens in my kitchen experiments. I used a bowl to hold my veggie scraps too, which worked wonders in keeping my counters less cluttered. 

Organization, cleanliness, following a recipe (okay, I smashed two together, but still!)... am I growing up?

 

Curried Coconut Massaman Chicken Korma Thing

(adapted from this recipe and this recipe)

M-i-P bowl 1:

Mince:

4 cloves garlic

1 large shallot

3 TBSP minced ginger

Melt 2-3 TBSP ghee in a large saucepan with tall edges. 

Add the ingredients from bowl 1 and saute over med-high heat for 3 minutes or so. 

M-i-P bowl 2:

Approx 1 tsp each:

Cayenne pepper

Curry powder (I added a little more)

Tumeric

Cardamom (1/8 tsp)

Garam Masala

Cumin

3 bay leaves

Add your bowl of spices to the pan. Saute 1-2 minutes to release the flavors. 

Stir in 1/2 cup chicken or veggie stock, squeeze of lime juice, 2 TBSP fish sauce and 1 TBSP brown sugar, and let it come to a boil in the pan. 

M-i-P bowl 3:

Dice into uniform cubes:

1 red pepper

1 medium sweet potato (the smaller the cubes, the faster it will cook)

2 ripe roma tomatoes

1/2 cup frozen peas (more if you like more peas, I guess)

Add bowl 3 and turn heat to med-low. Let mixture come to a simmer, then add 1 can tomato paste (the tiny one) and 1 can coconut milk (14 oz). Cook, stirring occasionally, until chicken and vegetables are cooked through and sauce is thickened. Add as many cashews and golden raisins as you want. 

Serve over rice or couscous. 

Makes enough probably for 4-6 at one go, or if you're me and my roommate, at least three meals. 

The Truth about Diner-en-Blanc

Unless you were under a social media rock last Saturday, you saw various outlets explode with tweets and pictures about this Dinur and Blank thing.

I went.

I saw.

I managed not to get tomato sauce on my borrowed white dress.

You want to know the truth behind the flash-mob paid picnic craze that's sweeping the world?

It's a giant pain in the ass. How French!

A very pretty, fun, champagne-floaty bother in the rear end. But my, the people watching was exquisite. And you know I can't resist a chance to a) do something unique b) that might be kind of exclusive and c) requires dressing up where d) I'll get to talk about it afterwards.
And so here I am, talking bout it.

Judging from my fellow picnickers (and come on, everyone was judging each other), attendees fell into three categories (note: none of these are bad or wrong, just my snarky assessment!):

1) Older Couples - older men and women who have things like wedding china, fold up tables, and rolling carts already in their possession. White linen pants? Check. Fancy silver? Check. Pay the registry fee, stop by Fresh Market, and wham bam thank you mam - they were ready for a picnic.

2) Younger Socialites - The "In" Crowd was able to go out and buy all the things they needed for an exquisite picnic on the lawn. Designer dresses, catered dinners, elaborate table setups - no worries. If you have the cash, your picnic evening was a multi-champagne-bottle, $100 Orchid picnic basket breeze.

We fall under #3 - borrowed dresses, pants on clearance, and accessories from Cappel's

3) The Rest of Us Who Like Weird Hard Things To Do Because It's Fun: after days of thrift store and outlet scrounging (white pants after Labor Day?!), borrowing furniture from three sets of relatives (thank you Aunt Karla, Liz's mom, and Ali's grandma), my roommate, boyfriend, and other friend scraped together a quasi-acceptable get up. We made our own, very French dinner... totally oblivious to the fact that our courses were all tomato based until after we arrived to the picnic. (No one spilled, amazingly.)

That afternoon we scrambled to get everything packed and ready, adjusted our white accoutrements, and set off to hoof it down from 14th Street to the meeting point at 3rd Street - not a far jaunt until you're trying to juggle folding tables, chairs, still-drying spray painted plastic animals, and a 60 pound dolly with leaky chicken tangine and squished linens and flowers. In heels.

this got turned into

this (Horatio, Polonius, Demetrius and Vernon)

Luckily for us my dear friend Lauren happened to be driving by and took pity on us. She helped us transport most of the stuff in her car, chuckling at us being all stressed out about a picnic.

Once we were settled in, unpacked, eating (AND DRINKING), the night was exquisite. After feasting on our delicious dinner, naming our silver plastic animals (Horatio, Demetrius, Polonius, and Vernon), and splitting a few bottles of bubbly, the effects of the night set in. We were surrounded by hundreds of others dressed in white. The candlelight flickered softly, the French music was in the air, and everyone was laughing, drinking, eating, and eventually dancing.

Liz and Ali and our lovely table

We saw lots of friends, and at the end of the evening, lighting sparklers and releasing white balloons in the air was a beautiful, unique experience (I was tipsy enough to not let the thought of hundreds of balloons ruining the environment bother me). The DJ at the end of the evening was killer, and we all got our dance on.

all's well that ends very well

Would I do it again? Yeah, probably.
With one under my belt, I'm feeling a little better prepared. Next year can only be even better!


For much better photography (and food) check out 513{eats}.

Tips for Diner-En-Blanc:

* Share food with friends.
* Make sure your food is not soupy or red.
* Bring lots of champagne.
* Travel most of the way in a car if you can.
* Simple is easier
* Enjoy!