Living in the south has impressed upon me the vital importance of a good biscuit recipe. As a friend recently noted on Facebook: "Biscuits are proof that God is Southern." Regardless of your religious affiliation, or lack thereof, there's no arguing with that. At her suggestion, I recently purchased (for only $1.99) the Kindle version of what looks like a great biscuit cookbook. I have yet to make any of the recipes, but have been impressed with the first sections discussing the different types of flour, baking powder, and other essential biscuit components. In the meantime, I'll continue to obsessively make my recent go-to biscuit recipe.
Obsessive may be an understatement for how I feel about the biscuit recipe that follows. It's even gotten to the point where sometimes I'll wake up on a Saturday with an overwhelming 'need' to make biscuits. And certainly no one around here has ever disagreed with that proposition.
Since I first discovered this recipe last spring on a favorite food blog, I've made these biscuits dozens of times. They are simple, quick, seemingly fail-safe, and utterly delicious. On Thanksgiving, I pondered whether there was a way to make these ahead of time for future baking and came up with essentially the same recipe on another favorite blog, with instructions for freezing and making ahead that I have yet to follow (once there's biscuit dough in the house there's little chance of it not being baked immediately)!
What I like the most about this biscuit recipe is that the moisture and the fat come from the same source. As a result of the sinful 1.5 cups of cream, there is no need for crisco, lard, butter, or any other fat, and hence, no need for any of the 'cutting in'. Without this labor (which admittedly isn't hard), the biscuit making process is that much shorter; I also find it easier to get a more consistent texture this way. I've played with the recipe a bit, sometimes including and sometimes omitting the sugar depending on the meal the biscuits will accompany; recently, I always skip the brush-with-butter step, to no detriment.
Cream Biscuits
As seen on smittenkitchen.com; she adapted this recipe from James Beard’s American Cookery
Makes 9-12, depending on how big you cut them!
3 tablespoons melted butter [optional if not brushing them]
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar (optional)
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
Preheat the oven to 425°F. If using, melt butter in a small pot or microwave dish, and set aside. Sift two cups flour, the baking powder, salt and (if using) sugar into a large bowl [let's be real people, I never sift anything]. Fold in 1 1/4 cups cream. If the dough is not soft or easily handled, fold in the remaining 1/4 cup cream, little by little.
Turn dough onto a floured surface and knead for about 1 minute; don't overwork. Roll out and cut into rounds or squares and place on cookie sheet. Gather dough scraps and continue to make rounds/squares until all dough has been used. Brush biscuits with melted butter. Bake until golden, 12 to 15 minutes. Serve immediately, or flash freeze for future use. [Biscuits can be baked straight from the freezer, and additional few minutes baking time will be needed, usually around 3 to 5.]
Monday, January 16, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Returning...
Yes, it has been awhile. A long while. On the order of a year. I could probably make a lot of excuses for myself, but won't bore you.
Over the holidays, several of my avid readers (well, my only readers), noted the lapse in posting, so in order to placate them, here is a post, albeit brief. The upside to a blogless year is the backlog recipes waiting to be written about. But as my now husband can attest, I've been cooking a lot this year.
The recipe in this post came to me from a friend in my bookclub. It's one of those dips where you just can't quite back away from the plate. So good, it's addictive. I subsequently made it over Christmas and again this weekend, to universal acclaim and many requests for the recipe. So here it is.
I'll be back... soon this time!
Rosalyn Carter's Cheese Mold
From Susanne, but findable all over the internet
1 lb cheddar cheese, grated
1 small onion, grated
1 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped
1 cup mayo (I've used less)
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 - 1 tsp. cayenne pepper (I like the high end of this)
Raspberry or strawberry jelly
Mix all ingredients together except jelly. Put in greased ring mold and refrigerate for 1-3 hours, then serve on plate with jelly in the center. Alternatively, if you don't have a mold (I don't), just mix together, refrigerate, and serve from a nice serving dish with a separate small bowl of the jelly. Ritz crackers go particularly well with this, but any cracker will work. It's also delicious by the spoonful, no cracker needed!
Over the holidays, several of my avid readers (well, my only readers), noted the lapse in posting, so in order to placate them, here is a post, albeit brief. The upside to a blogless year is the backlog recipes waiting to be written about. But as my now husband can attest, I've been cooking a lot this year.
The recipe in this post came to me from a friend in my bookclub. It's one of those dips where you just can't quite back away from the plate. So good, it's addictive. I subsequently made it over Christmas and again this weekend, to universal acclaim and many requests for the recipe. So here it is.
I'll be back... soon this time!
Rosalyn Carter's Cheese Mold
From Susanne, but findable all over the internet
1 lb cheddar cheese, grated
1 small onion, grated
1 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped
1 cup mayo (I've used less)
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 - 1 tsp. cayenne pepper (I like the high end of this)
Raspberry or strawberry jelly
Mix all ingredients together except jelly. Put in greased ring mold and refrigerate for 1-3 hours, then serve on plate with jelly in the center. Alternatively, if you don't have a mold (I don't), just mix together, refrigerate, and serve from a nice serving dish with a separate small bowl of the jelly. Ritz crackers go particularly well with this, but any cracker will work. It's also delicious by the spoonful, no cracker needed!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Happy New Year
Resolutions are an odd thing. On one hand, it's great that once a year we take stock of where our life is and what we want to change in the year ahead, on the other, we too often resolve unrealistically or beat ourselves up for not following through. And why should one date, January 1, be the sole catalyst for resolve, resolutions, and our impetus to change? Shouldn't we regularly take stock of our lives, our relationships, our health? I decided this year that my resolutions focus on doing things I already do... perhaps a bit better or more often, but the same things, just improved and with more mindfulness. This year's resolution is thus to cook a new recipe each week, something I already do. But I'm planning to approach it differently--to dust off rarely used cookbooks for inspiration and try new ingredients and types of cuisines.
To start off the new year, I made these potato and kale cakes last week. I'm always happy to find recipes that find unique ways to use greens because greens are one of those seasonal ingredients that can quickly bore even the most creative chef. The January issue of Bon Appetit has a really nice selection of interesting recipes with greens and I look forward to trying a selection of them in the upcoming weeks.
These potato cakes were delicious, and I could have eaten the sauce by the spoonful. The sauce also doubled as a condiment for lamb burgers later in the week, it's highly addictive. While the recipe takes a while, none of it was overly fussy or difficult and I multitasked, making a lentil soup at the same time. If they were made with leftover mashed potatoes, the recipe would take less than 30 minutes to pull together. I served the cakes with the soup, but they would also be delicious with a green salad.
To start off the new year, I made these potato and kale cakes last week. I'm always happy to find recipes that find unique ways to use greens because greens are one of those seasonal ingredients that can quickly bore even the most creative chef. The January issue of Bon Appetit has a really nice selection of interesting recipes with greens and I look forward to trying a selection of them in the upcoming weeks.
These potato cakes were delicious, and I could have eaten the sauce by the spoonful. The sauce also doubled as a condiment for lamb burgers later in the week, it's highly addictive. While the recipe takes a while, none of it was overly fussy or difficult and I multitasked, making a lentil soup at the same time. If they were made with leftover mashed potatoes, the recipe would take less than 30 minutes to pull together. I served the cakes with the soup, but they would also be delicious with a green salad.
Potato and Kale Cakes with Rouille (from epicurious.com)
Rouille:
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
2 teaspoons tomato paste
1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
2 teaspoons tomato paste
1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Cakes:
1 1/2 pounds unpeeled russet potatoes, scrubbed, cut into 1-inch cubes
1/4 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt, divided
3 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 cup chopped onion [I used 1 onion]
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
1/2 pound kale, center rib and stem cut from each leaf, leaves coarsely chopped [I used 1 bunch]
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
For rouille:
Whisk all ingredients in medium bowl. Season rouille to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.
Whisk all ingredients in medium bowl. Season rouille to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.
For cakes:
Cook potatoes in large saucepan of boiling salted water until tender, about 25 minutes. Drain; return potatoes to same saucepan. Add milk and butter. Mash potatoes (with peel) until smooth. Season with 1/2 teaspoon coarse salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Transfer 3 cups mashed potatoes to large bowl and cool (reserve remaining potatoes for another use) [note: I used all of the mashed potatoes and did not measure out three cups.]
Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons oil in large deep skillet over medium heat. Add onion and garlic. Sauté until onion softens, about 5 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high. Add kale and thyme. Toss until kale wilts, about 5 minutes. Add kale mixture, 1/2 teaspoon coarse salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, and nutmeg to potatoes; blend. Cool potato mixture 30 minutes [I was impatient and cooled a bit less, perhaps 15 minutes].
Shape potato mixture by 1/4 cupfuls into 1/2-inch-thick patties. Arrange on rimmed baking sheet. Can be made up to 2 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature.
Heat 2 tablespoons oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add cakes and cook, without moving, until cakes are brown and crispy on bottom, 3 to 4 minutes. Carefully turn cakes over. Cook until brown on bottom, 2 to 3 minutes longer. Transfer to plates. Top each cake with dollop of rouille.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Fifth Day
You guessed it... today is turkey, Day 5. Given that turkey, Day 1 is already too much for me, Day 5 is really pushing my limits. So far there has been a giant turkey leg eaten while sitting down at the table (Thanksgiving), turkey eaten standing up as leftovers in the kitchen, turkey sandwiches, turkey eaten standing up as leftovers in the kitchen (again), and here we are... Day 5.
The most important part of the fifth day is that nothing can taste at all like turkey. It's fine to have turkey in the meal, but it must be hidden. And there's only really one good way to do that: casserole [soup is perhaps a possibility as well, but not quite as effective a hiding place]. So here I am, casserole in the oven, and actually eagerly awaiting my turkey dinner.
You see, I've figured out that my favorite casserole is the perfect repository for leftover turkey. In fact, tonight's casserole involves all sorts of Thanksgiving leftovers (extra buttermilk, cheese) and miscellaneous things already present in my cupboard and freezer (canned black beans, tortillas, green chilies). There's almost nothing better than a meal that requires no preparation, weird ingredients, or run to the grocery store for that last thing you forgot to buy (or perhaps, three trips to three different grocery stores the day before Thanksgiving for the many, many things you forgot to buy). This casserole is versatile--change the beans to kidney beans, add jalapenos, omit the turkey entirely for a vegetarian meal, add ham. But I guess that's exactly what casseroles are, versatile, easy, and the only way to make it through the fifth day.
Chilaquile Casserole
Adapted from Still Life With Menu by Mollie Katzen
12 corn tortillas, thawed if frozen
1 can beans (black or kidney), drained and rinsed
1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
2 cups turkey or chicken, diced or shredded
2 4 oz cans green chilies, drained
2 cups buttermilk
4 eggs
3 cups monterey jack (or mix with cheddar) cheese, grated
1 tsp cumin
1 Tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 9x13 inch casserole dish or baking pan.
Heat olive oil and cumin in skillet over medium heat. Add onion and garlic and saute until soft and starting to brown, about 10 minutes. Add chilies, turkey, and beans and cook, heating through, about 2 minutes.
In a separate bowl, beat together the eggs and buttermilk. Add salt and pepper.
Tear six of the tortillas into bite-sized pieces and spread evenly across the bottom of the casserole dish. Top with half of the cheese and the onions/bean/turkey mix. Top with the remaining six tortillas, also torn into bite-sized pieces and the remaining half of the cheese. Slowly pour the buttermilk/egg mixture over the dish. Place uncovered in oven and bake 35 minutes. Serve hot or at room temperature with a garnish of sour cream and hot sauce for those who desire a little more spice.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
More Maligned Vegetables: Brussels Sprout Hash
Although I seemingly derive great pleasure from discovering ways to make much maligned foods taste good, I never thought this would extend to brussels sprouts. But a few weeks ago I had such an amazing brussels sprouts hash at Leon's, that I actually found myself wanting brussels sprouts again. Of course, the craving could have had something to do with the bacon, but really, I've never wanted a brussels sprout in my life.
As it turned out, I had a vegetarian friend in town the night I finally decided to take on the brussels sprouts, so I had to dispense with the bacon. But the bacon-free recipe I found made me forget all about it, and I still loved the brussels sprouts. They might actually make it into my shopping cart on a regular rotation! Or even my garden! Even my friend was wowed: "I've got to tell my parents, they will never believe I'm eating brussels sprouts [and liking them]" sums up her reaction to this recipe.
I've thought a lot about this, and I think what makes this recipe (and the hash at Leon's) so good is that the brussels sprouts aren't whole. I realize this sounds glaringly obvious, but perhaps my problem with brussels sprouts all along has simply been the preparation. Thinly sliced, cooked in butter, and mixed with caramelized onions truly works wonders for this neglected vegetable. So the question remains, why do we ever eat these things whole?
As it turned out, I had a vegetarian friend in town the night I finally decided to take on the brussels sprouts, so I had to dispense with the bacon. But the bacon-free recipe I found made me forget all about it, and I still loved the brussels sprouts. They might actually make it into my shopping cart on a regular rotation! Or even my garden! Even my friend was wowed: "I've got to tell my parents, they will never believe I'm eating brussels sprouts [and liking them]" sums up her reaction to this recipe.
I've thought a lot about this, and I think what makes this recipe (and the hash at Leon's) so good is that the brussels sprouts aren't whole. I realize this sounds glaringly obvious, but perhaps my problem with brussels sprouts all along has simply been the preparation. Thinly sliced, cooked in butter, and mixed with caramelized onions truly works wonders for this neglected vegetable. So the question remains, why do we ever eat these things whole?
Brussels Sprout Hash with Caramelized Shallots
From Bon Appétit (Molly Stevens)
[From Hannah: My notes and changes are noted next to several of the ingredients.]
Serves 8-10
From Bon Appétit (Molly Stevens)
[From Hannah: My notes and changes are noted next to several of the ingredients.]
Serves 8-10
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter, divided [I used 4 Tbsp and it was still great] 1/2 pound shallots, thinly sliced [I used two yellow onions instead of shallots since I decided to make this at the last minute and didn't have any shallots on hand] Coarse kosher salt 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar [I used sherry vinegar] 4 teaspoons sugar [I used the full amount but probably would use only 3 tsp next time] 1 1/2 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil [I used less, maybe 2 Tbsp] 1 cup water Melt 3 tablespoons butter in medium skillet over medium heat. Add shallots; sprinkle with coarse kosher salt and pepper. Sauté until soft and golden, about 10 minutes. Add vinegar and sugar. Stir until brown and glazed, about 3 minutes. Halve brussels sprouts lengthwise. Cut lengthwise into thin (1/8-inch) slices. Heat oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add sprouts; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Sauté until brown at edges, 6 minutes. Add 1 cup water and 3 tablespoons butter. Sauté until most of water evaporates and sprouts are tender but still bright green, 3 minutes. Add shallots; season with salt and pepper. |
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Dining in Maine: Flipside, Brunswick, ME
Good news: The pizza at the newly opened Flipside in Brunswick rocks. In fact, it's so good that I anticipate craving several of the well-designed pie creations of Chef Bob Haggerty.
Bad news: I live in Atlanta. Therefore, the logistics of getting a slice are a bit complicated.
Until recently, we had few good pizza choices in Atlanta, and although we are getting closer with the addition of Antico, Vesuvius, and others to the dining scene, I still find myself missing 'real pizza', the kind of pizza I could get as a kid growing up in New England. On the other hand, I enjoy the proliferation of 'designer' toppings and more innovative combinations. Flipside perfectly masters this intersection of old and new with a traditional crust (although the sprinkling of sea salt is a nice touch) paired with unique, fresh, and local toppings, served at the stylishly restyled restaurant at 111 Maine Street in Brunswick.
I tried several of the pies yesterday at the opening event, and two have the potential to be late-night cravings: the chorizo, and the bbq chicken. The chorizo pizza works without much description: chorizo, mushrooms, cheese. What is most surprising about my love of the bbq chicken pizza is that, along with Hawaiian-style pizza, this combination is usually at the bottom of my list. Flipside's is different, and better: the smoked chicken is perfectly shredded (no weird chicken chunks), the ancho barbecue sauce is smoky and a bit spicy (and not too sweet), and the addition of bacon adds the perfect saltiness to the mix. Topped with a blend of cheeses, this pizza works.
I should probably disclose that I know Bob personally, so I am not a completely unbiased reviewer. That said, until now I've never found a slice of pizza worthy of writing about. I wonder how long until Flipside on the Southside opens--I'll be waiting for it in the ATL.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Summer's End
It's almost cruel of me to post a recipe for peaches now that we have (finally) crept into fall, but this one is so good that I just couldn't wait another 10 months. And don't wait 10 months to try it--while peaches lie fully in summer's domain, I'm guessing this recipe would be really good with any other thinly sliced fruit, or even a layer of chunky raspberry or other fruit preserves.
This recipe calls for browned butter, something I'd never tried before, and which was a bit trying to my patience, but well worth the results (a non-browned butter version can be found at smittenkitchen.com, the source of the original recipe). Browning the butter didn't take much time at all, but the whole process made me a bit nervous..."Is this the right color? Now is this the right color? Now? What if I turn around and the whole thing burns on me? ?? ? ???" The recipe's instructions actually do tell the tale of browning the butter well, but a few extra descriptors would have helped me. For example, when the recipe says that the butter will foam, it isn't kidding. Foam means foam means lots and lots of small bubbles. I saw the first few small bubbles and thought "Foam, next step please," but they were nothing in comparison with the actual foaming. When you get to the foam, you'll know it. My experience with the color changes were similar. I kept thinking "It's done, take it off the stove before it burns up and you ruin two sticks of butter" when in actuality I was a ways from having browned butter. So here's my guide to the color changes: when the recipe says 'clear golden' it means, for lack of a better descriptor, that it is the color of concentrated urine, and when the recipe says 'brown' it means brown. While I urge you to keep a close eye on the butter and stir very frequently, the pace of the browning is far more glacial than you might think, so relax a little, enjoy making browned butter.
Do you ever get the sense that I am writing these things as a reminder to myself?
The shortbread was well worth the butter browning experience. I liked that the shortbread was just barely sweet, which made for a great complement to the wonderful peaches we'd purchased the week before at a roadside stand in South Carolina. We shared the bounty at a friend's potluck, with plenty of leftovers to go with coffee in the mornings.
This recipe calls for browned butter, something I'd never tried before, and which was a bit trying to my patience, but well worth the results (a non-browned butter version can be found at smittenkitchen.com, the source of the original recipe). Browning the butter didn't take much time at all, but the whole process made me a bit nervous..."Is this the right color? Now is this the right color? Now? What if I turn around and the whole thing burns on me? ?? ? ???" The recipe's instructions actually do tell the tale of browning the butter well, but a few extra descriptors would have helped me. For example, when the recipe says that the butter will foam, it isn't kidding. Foam means foam means lots and lots of small bubbles. I saw the first few small bubbles and thought "Foam, next step please," but they were nothing in comparison with the actual foaming. When you get to the foam, you'll know it. My experience with the color changes were similar. I kept thinking "It's done, take it off the stove before it burns up and you ruin two sticks of butter" when in actuality I was a ways from having browned butter. So here's my guide to the color changes: when the recipe says 'clear golden' it means, for lack of a better descriptor, that it is the color of concentrated urine, and when the recipe says 'brown' it means brown. While I urge you to keep a close eye on the butter and stir very frequently, the pace of the browning is far more glacial than you might think, so relax a little, enjoy making browned butter.
Do you ever get the sense that I am writing these things as a reminder to myself?
The shortbread was well worth the butter browning experience. I liked that the shortbread was just barely sweet, which made for a great complement to the wonderful peaches we'd purchased the week before at a roadside stand in South Carolina. We shared the bounty at a friend's potluck, with plenty of leftovers to go with coffee in the mornings.
Peach Shortbread
From the Smitten Kitchen
[If you don't want to brown the butter, follow the link above for instructions.]
1 cup (7 ounces or 200 grams) white sugar
1 teaspoon (5 grams) baking powder
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons (12 5/8 ounces or 359 grams) cups all-purpose flour (or you can measure 3 cups and remove 2 tablespoons flour)
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon (2 grams) salt
1 cup (2 sticks or 8 ounces or 227 grams) cold unsalted butter
1 large egg
2 peaches, pitted and thinly sliced (between 1/8 and 1/4-inch thick)
1 teaspoon (5 grams) baking powder
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons (12 5/8 ounces or 359 grams) cups all-purpose flour (or you can measure 3 cups and remove 2 tablespoons flour)
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon (2 grams) salt
1 cup (2 sticks or 8 ounces or 227 grams) cold unsalted butter
1 large egg
2 peaches, pitted and thinly sliced (between 1/8 and 1/4-inch thick)
Brown your butter: Melt butter in a small/medium saucepan over medium-low heat. It will melt, then foam, then turn clear golden and finally start to turn brown and smell nutty. Stir frequently, scraping up any bits from the bottom as you do. Keep your eyes on it; it burns very quickly after it browns and the very second that you turn around to do something else. Set it in the freezer until solid (about 30 minutes).
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter a 9×13 inch pan, or spray it with a nonstick spray. In a medium bowl, stir together sugar, baking powder, flour, salt and spices with a whisk. Use a pastry blender, fork or your fingertips, blend the solidified brown butter and egg into the flour mixture. It will be crumbly. Pat 3/4 of the crumbs into the bottom of the prepared pan, pressing firmly. Tile peach slices over crumb base in a single layer. Scatter remaining crumbs evenly over peaches and bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes, until top is slightly brown and you can see a little color around the edges. Cool completely in pan before cutting into squares.
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