Archive | July, 2011

Is Anybody Else Mildly Disturbed/Fascinated by This?

20 Jul

In the older of my two copies of Joy of Cooking, there seems to be a holdout to a bygone era.  The older edition was printed in 1985, but it seems as though many of the recipes were developed and deemed significant during a time when people relied a bit more than is currently necessary on particular types of wild game.  I only say this because, tell me, when was the last time you had a hankering to blanch and roast one of these fine fellows?

(Note the instructions on how to fatten up one’s opossum by feeding it milk and cereals for 10 days prior to cooking it, as though you are the dutiful game-eating cousin of that witch in Hansel and Gretel.)

Still, if porcupine’s not your bag, might I suggest another item?

Of course, if you are feeling a bit less peckish, it might be recommend that you prepare something a bit smaller.  You know, for a light lunch or afternoon snack.

That ought to hit the spot nicely.  I don’t know about you, but  I find the accompanying menu suggestion incredibly helpful.  You wouldn’t want to serve your braised muskrat with a clashing side dish.  That would just be embarrassing.  But what’s that you say?  Muskrat not fulfilling your needs?  Too big, you say?  Then don’t hesitate to try out one of these.

And don’t worry if you are unsure about how one might go about preparing such an animal for eventual mealtime delight.  Joy of Cooking has totally got your back on that one.

Note the helpful warning to wear gloves (and, one can ascertain, very heavy boots) while skinning your squirrel, lest you contract tularemia, a terrible infectious disease caused by highly virulent bacterium found in wild rodents.  One can only assume that, once sufficiently cooked, the rodent in question will be deemed no longer in possession of the hideous pathogen.  Fingers crossed!

To be fair, there are some recipes in this section of the book (the Wild Game section, if you are curious) that fall a bit more on the side of normal.

While I would never admit as much to my son, devotee of all things rabbit related, I have actually tasted rabbit before, though I cannot recall whether I enjoyed it or not.  And though I did not prepare the rabbit in question, I can rest assured that, were I ever to find myself struck with that particular need (or the need to relieve a rabbit of its sweater while it hung upside down on a trapeze), Joy of Cooking, circa 1985, will most definitely have my interests in mind.

Bonus question: Does anyone else find it hilarious that the recipes for these particular items never deviate from the standard Joy of Cooking format?  I find it endlessly pleasing that the recipe for raccoon indicates that, in order to cook raccoon, you will need:

1 raccoon

And in order to cook muskrat, the ingredients list commands that you procure:

1 muskrat

Thanks, Joy of Cooking.  Utterly efficient to the end.

P.S. Yeah. I totally filed this post in the Meat category.

Cherry Almond Strudel

18 Jul

Do you enjoy seemingly infinite layers of shatteringly crisp phyllo?  What are your feelings concerning rich, dark cherries?  How about a dash of almond in each bite playing off of the lingering almond scent of cherry pits?  You approve?  Great!  You want to make this.

But then there’s the other side of the equation.  Pitting a pound and a half of cherries.  Layering each sheet of phyllo, brushing it with butter, and then sprinkling it with a dusting of ground almonds and spices.  Repeating that process many, many times.  Maybe you don’t want to make this.

But, wait!  You do!  I know this strudel might look like something only a person who is really into self punishment might attempt, but I swear to you that, start to finish, it’s really not all that time consuming or difficult.  Yes, I pitted a pound and a half of cherries by cutting each cherry in half and removing the pit by hand, one by one, but the entire operation only took me, start to finish, fifteen minutes.  And, true, layering the sheets of phyllo and then brushing and sprinkling each one can seem like a monumental task, but, in reality, it’s not the type of activity that one needs a graduate degree in Food Science to complete.

Again, it’s a process that will take you fifteen minutes, tops, and you certainly won’t be any worse off having taken a stab at it.  In fact, at the risk of sounding like a complete loon, I actually enjoy the process of methodically layering phyllo.  Perhaps it is the repetitive nature of a rather short task that produces immediately, visible results, but I find the motions rather soothing.

But forget all of that.  Whether or not you fear the task of making this strudel, I can assure you of one sure thing: you will definitely, without a doubt, immensely enjoy eating this strudel.  Again, flakey layers of crisp phyllo.  Plump and perfect cherries.  Sweet, syrupy juice mingling with a hint of almond.  No, really. You want to make this.

Cherry Almond Strudel

½ pound of phyllo sheets, defrosted if frozen

4 tablespoons melted butter

½ cup finely ground almonds or almond meal

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½  cup dark brown sugar, divided

1 ½ pounds cherries, cut in half and pitted

2 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/8 tsp almond extract

pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine ¼ cup dark brown sugar, pitted cherries, tapioca, lemon juice, almond extract, and pinch of salt. Toss to combine thoroughly, then set aside.

In a small bowl, combine ground almonds, cinnamon, and remaining ¼ cup dark brown sugar.  Reserve 1 tablespoon of mixture and set aside.

Cover unrolled phyllo stack with a lightly dampened kitchen towel (this will keep the phyllo from drying out as you work).  Take two phyllo sheets from stack and lay them down on your parchment-lined baking sheet with a long side nearest you (keeping remaining sheets covered as you work) and brush lightly with butter.  Evenly sprinkle surface of buttered phyllo with a heaping tablespoon of ground almond mixture.  Continue layering, buttering, and sprinkling in this fashion until all of the phyllo sheets have been used.  The number of layers you will have will depend largely on the size of your phyllo sheets.

When all of the phyllo has been layered and prepared, spoon the cherry mixture on top of the phyllo stack, doing your best to arrange most of the cherries on the long half of the phyllo that is closest to you.  Carefully roll the cherry-topped phyllo sheets into a large log, tucking in the short ends as you go.  Arrange the roll seam side down.

Brush the top of the strudel with the last drops of melted butter, then sprinkle with reserved tablespoon of almond mixture.  Using a sharp knife, cut two or three steam vents along the top of the strudel.

Bake strudel in center rack of oven for 30-40 minutes, until cherry mixture is bubbling and the strudel is a deep golden brown.  Cool strudel on baking sheet for at least 30 minutes before attempting to cut and serve.

Roasted Asparagus and Lemon Chevre Galette

14 Jul

When the sun comes out, it’s time for a picnic.  Unless, that is, the sun has come out after three or four days of intermittent—and yet, somehow, also very much persistent—rain showers, in which case you might want to wait a couple more days before you lay out your picnic blanket and unpack your meal, lest the wet ground provide an unexpectedly damp element to your outdoor eating enjoyment.  Or, if you are the clever type, you could always just pack a waterproof tarp along with your picnic, which would allow you to sit on the ground anywhere you wished without running the risk of making your pants look like they suffered an unfortunate accident.

This, of course, is something I learned only recently.  I don’t know why it never occurred to me to pack a waterproof tarp as a picnic blanket, but I can only presume that my ignorance was derived solely from my insistence on pretending that it is always going to be warmer here than it actually is.  So this is how it came to be that last month (June, which is never never warm here, and I know that, I really do), during my son’s preschool end-of-the-year picnic, when it rained cats and dogs all day long, I found myself sitting beneath a very large tree, propped upon a narrow exposed root that was miraculously free from moisture, and eating what I could only think of as the most perfect picnic food in the world, during the most imperfect picnic weather imaginable.

As evidenced by recent events on this website (and here, where I also regularly share recipes and excitement about food), I have a thing about galettes.  (I also have a thing about tarts and pies, but I am sure you will hear more about that as time goes on.)  Galettes, much like tarts and pies, have the capability of being either sweet or savory, but there is just something a bit more casual about them.

Perhaps it is the lack of special equipment required to make them, as one is not required to own any specific type of pan or plate in order to whip one together, or maybe it is the rustic presentation that defines them (you just roll out the dough, place whatever you desire in the middle, then fold everything up), but lately, when I think of buttery crusts and dreamy fillings, my mind immediately wanders over to galettes.  Call it the laziness of summer (if we ever, ahem, actually experience summer this year), but a galette just seems so laid back, so willing to be eaten without the aid of silverware.  Or a plate.  In fact, the only thing you need to enjoy this galette is a set of taste buds to appreciate the light, flakey crust and the creamy lemon chevre that serves as a base for tender roasted asparagus.  You’ll be so blissfully satisfied, you won’t even notice that right now it’s mid-July, 60 degrees, and raining.  Okay, maybe you’ll still notice, but I swear this delicious galette will make you just a tiny bit less upset about it.

Roasted Asparagus and Lemon Chevre Galette

Galette dough:

This method of grating butter into dry ingredients is a nearly foolproof method of achieving super flakey dough. Grating the butter while frozen makes it almost impossible to overwork and toughen the dough while incorporating the butter, and, when you add your ice water to moisten the ingredients, you’ll find that things adhere together nicely without ever becoming gummy and running the risk of making your dough tough.

1 cup all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon sugar

6 tablespoons butter (¾ of a stick), frozen as a stick and NOT cubed or sliced

3-4 tablespoons ice water

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and sugar. Using the large holes on a box grater, grate the frozen butter over the flour mixture, covering as much of the surface of the flour as possible (meaning, try not to let the butter pile up too high in one place). Using your hands, quickly toss the butter and flour together to distribute the butter through out the bowl. 1 tablespoon at a time, add 3 tablespoons of ice water while gently turning and mixing the dough with your hands. If the dough is not coming together, add the last tablespoon while continuing to mix the dough. When the dough forms a rough ball, turn the dough out onto a large piece of plastic wrap. Form the dough into a round disc, tightly wrap it in plastic wrap, then refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Filling:

4 ounces softened goat cheese

1 tsp freshly grated or chopped lemon zest

1/8 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

1 pound asparagus, tough ends trimmed off

2 tablespoons olive oil

juice of half a lemon

salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a small bowl, combine goat cheese, lemon zest, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste.  Mix together and set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine asparagus, olive oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.  Gently toss asparagus until it is evenly coated with the liquid.

Roll the disc of galette dough into a 12-inch round.  Transfer the dough to the parchment-lined baking sheet.  Spread the chevre mixture over the surface of the galette dough, leaving a 1 1/2 to 2-inch border at the edges.  Arrange the asparagus over the top of the chevre, alternating the placement of tips and ends as best you can, and leaving uncovered the border at the edge.  Rotating the galette, fold the border up over the filling, pinching and crimping shut at regular intervals.

Bake the galette in the center of the oven for 30-40 minutes, until the asparagus is browned and roasted and the dough edges have browned.

Can be served warm, cold, or at room temperature.