Apple Strudel

The opportunity to make apple strudel with my mom, my aunt, and my Friend J Renny made this trip home just that much sweeter.

J Renny and I went for a walk while the strudel was baking, and by the time we returned, most of it had been devoured.  Guess we'll have to make some more tomorrow!

Kitchen-Style Cabin Fever

Every February I get a serious case of cabin fever.  Februarys in Chicago will do that to a person.  I'm in the middle of such a spell right now, and it's spilled over into my cooking.

While I'm pretty good at serving my family variety, I have been known to fall into ruts.  There was my Thai noodle phase, where at least twice a week I was serving some sort of rice noodle with meat, veggies and sauce.  I realized how bad it was getting when I served Thai noodles for the third time in ten days and heard Baird say (more to himself than to me) "Oh, it's another Thai noodle night."  I got the message, and made sure to put some extra space between Thai noodle meals.

It's not quite that bad right now, but for the last couple of weeks, I've been feeling stuck in what I'll call a winter food rut.  It seems like we've been eating a lot of soups, stews, and chili, with the occasional roast chicken or beef thrown in for good measure.  Honestly, I'm tired of it.  I'm ready to walk out my back door and pick fresh herbs from my garden.  I want the bounty of the farmer's market sitting on my kitchen counter.  One could say I have a case of kitchen-style cabin fever.

In order to cure my cabin fever, I've decided to cook a new dish once a week.  Not just any new dish...an international dish I've never cooked before.  Tonight was the first meal.  I made Cuban Black Beans and Rice from Cook's Illustrated.

I learned that sofrito is a cornerstone of Latin cooking, and the specific elements in the mix differ from one Latine cuisine to the next.  A Cuban sofrito consists of onions, green peppers, garlic, cumin and oregano.

To make my beans and rice, I soaked black beans overnight.  I enriched the beans with chicken broth, salt, garlic, bell pepper, onion, and garlic and set them to simmer.  I drained the beans, saved the bean juice, and rinsed the rice.  I used my food processor to blend green peppers and onions.  I cooked lean bacon and then sauteed the herbs and veggies in the rendered bacon fat (veggies in bacon fat...there's no way this will be a bad dish!).  I stirred in the rice, beans, and the bean cooking liquid I had reserved.  I added a bit of red wine vinegar and salt.  I baked it all in my new Dutch oven.  I fluffed it with a fork, let it rest, and served it with lime wedges.

This recipe actually reminded me of Cajun dirty rice, but with less heat.  It had a complex, earthy flavor, which was just perfect for a cold, dreary, February night.

I'm already feeling better!

I'll Drink to That

When temps hit the 90s in the summer time, there's nothing more refreshing than an ice-cold glass of real, homemade lemonade.  We like our lemonade quite strong and with lots of sugar.  It's best when the rinds are left in for a day and it chills for a good, long while, but if you just can't wait, serving it over an ice-filled glass with a few slices of fresh lemon thrown in will do in a pinch.

While all the kids love fresh lemonade, it's Drew who goes crazy for it.  When Irving put together its cookbook, Drew submitted our family's recipe for lemonade like this:

My Favorite Lemonade

6 lemons
3-1/2 quarts water
3-4 cups sugar

Squeeze lemons with a citrus press so there's not much pulp in the lemonade.  I hate pulp.  Place juice in a gallon pitcher.  Add sugar and water and stir until it's mixed.  This is the recipe for homemade lemonade that my grandma gave to my mom, and I like to make it with my mom.  It's so yummy!

Date Night: Taking Care of Orphans

I grew up hating cheese.  When I was very young, I got sick on a neighbor's batch of Velveeta-based mac 'n cheese, and I refused to touch the stuff ever again.  Velveeta and American cheese singles, in my mind, were insanely disgusting, and they were the cheeses I was mostly exposed to in my growing up years.  Even after I became an adult, I held fast to my "I hate cheese" attitude, simply because I refused to investigate cheese any further.  I assumed that all cheese was highly processed and generally bad tasting.

I even spent 36 hours in Paris, and barely touched the cheeses there.  I did break down and have a bowl of classic French onion soup.  I remember the cheese in the soup tasted pretty darn good, but I thought that had more to do with the fact that I was, after all, dining in Paris, at a restaurant equidistant from the Eiffel Tower and the Seinne River.  How could it not be tasty?

For the next several years, I assumed that good cheese could only be found in Paris and required a trip across The Pond, and was therefore unattainable.

My attitude toward cheese began to shift a few years later when I took a cooking class that featured the importance of using quality ingredients.  The case in point was Parmesan Cheese.  Our class was first given the cheap, dried, out-of-the-can cheese to taste.  I just couldn't bring myself to admit to a roomful of other adults, in the middle of a cooking class, that I don't eat cheese.  I took a small taste.  Unimpressive, to say the least.  Our chef-instructor kept upping the quality of cheese on us, giving us samples of ever-more-expensive varieties until at last we were eating this insanely wonderful, expensive cheese.  As I ate - and enjoyed - that cheese, it occurred to me that I had misjudged myself.  I didn't hate cheese; I was merely a cheese snob.

Then the Marion Street Cheese Market came to Oak Park.  I was excited but a bit frustrated.  It was entirely possible to blow the weeks' grocery budget in a single trip to that store.  This type of high quality cheese was fantastic but nearly out of reach.  I decided it was worth saving for and including in special occasion meals.

In the last year or two, the Cheese Market came up with an absolutely brilliant idea: they started selling "orphan" cheeses.

An orphan cheese is a piece that is more than a sample, but a bit too small to be sold on its own.  These  pieces are individually wrapped and placed in a basket.  I absolutely love this because it allows me to bring home incredible, expensive cheese at an affordable price.

Tonight, Baird and I were surprised to find ourselves alone for a few hours on a Monday evening, and decided to make it a wine, cheese and fruit night.  We went to Trader Joe's and spent that gift certificate I won from the library.  Then we headed over to Marion Street Cheese Market and rescued several orphans.  They had names like "Bogart," "Rembrandt," and "Big Ed's."  One orphan came from a place called The Cowgirl Creamery.  We ate and drank and watched the 1940 movie The Philadelphia Story. Taking care of the cheese orphans while watching a timeless, intelligent classic film made for a perfect in-house date.

Easter Sunday Dinner

After an inspiring Easter Sunday service at the Wrede Clan's church, we met up with Mom and Dad and headed down to Oxford, IA for a fabulous meal.  You can read my full review of Restaurant Augusta here, but here are some highlights:

The carrot soup is amazing, and, for the record, is not served as sloppy as it looks here.  Dad ordered it, took one bite and said, "You have to try this!"  We started passing the soup around the table, and this is what it looked like when it finally made its way to me.  He was right - it's incredible.  If you ever get to Restaurant Augusta, I hope you're lucky enough to land there when carrot soup is the soup of the day.

Mom's steak and potatoes were perfect, and she was impressed that she had three finishing sauces from which to choose.

The pork tenderloin sandwich is Iowa's trademark. They are served everywhere, and there are entire chains dedicated to them. Restaurant Augusta's version won the 2005 pork tenderloin sandwich contest at the Iowa State Fair, and it's easy to see why - it's one of the best I've ever had.

I'm already plotting my return to Restaurant Augusta!

Happy Thanksgiving

I have so much to be thankful for, and I don't stop often enough to acknowledge it. Today was an amazing, perfect day.

The menu:

3 Cheeses served with Assorted Crackers, Grapes, and Fresh Figs
Grilled, Brined Fresh Turkey with Citrus and Herbs
Grandma's Stuffing
Sweet Potatoes with Bananas and Cream
Mashed Yukon Gold Potatoes & Gravy
Scalloped Corn
Chilled Asparagus Spears
Arugula Salad with Figs, Prosciutto, Almonds and Parmesan
Aasha's Apple and Cranberry Chutney
Relish Tray
Grandma's Rolls
Apple Crisp
Pumpkin Pie

Preparations

The days leading up to Thanksgiving are always a flurry of activity. Carpets have been steam cleaned. New rugs have been thrown down in the kitchen and bathroom. Rooms have been 27 fling boogied. The Hummell plates on the wall have been washed and rehung. The silver's been polished.

In addition to the cleaning there's food prep to be done. For the first time ever this year, we bought a fresh turkey. This morning we brined it John Kass style.

And of course, it's not really Thanksgiving until Grandma and Grandpa show up. My mom made rolls and chocolate chip cookies. According to my kids, Grandma's chocolate chip cookies are the best EVER, and she always brings a batch when she comes for a visit.

I've got 7 pounds of butter, 2 quarts of cream and lots of fresh herbs. My fridge is full of fresh produce. The menu is set. The timetable has been posted. Bring it!

Fondue

Tonight we fondued for supper. Yes, I am aware that mainstream America has pretty much moved on, declaring fondue to be outdated, messy, and really, really bad for your health. I don't care. It's a family tradition I'm intent on passing along to my kids.

I grew up in the 1970s, when fondue pots were all the rage. I have fond memories of long, drawn-out suppers around an olive green pot that bubbled and gurgled with dangerously hot grease, fueled by a small pot of alcohol-based liquid fuel. It was a trendy way to eat but still a periodic treat, since the meat we used was top sirloin steak, not an everyday staple in a family of six living on a budget. Still, fondue night was one of my favorite meals.

When I first moved to Chicagoland, I lived with my dad's cousin & her husband. When they moved to Florida, I was the recipient of many things they didn't want to move. One of those was a fondue pot they had been given as a wedding gift. They'd never used it. I knew I wouldn't fondue just for me, but I kept the set through five moves. I knew someday I'd have a family, and I'd want to fondue with them.

Once my own children were old enough that I was comfortable having them stick forks into a pot of scalding hot, bubbling oil, I broke out the fondue set. All three kids loved it. And every now and then, when I'm feeling like I want a cozy supper, we huddle around the small table in the kitchen and stick bite-size pieces of sirloin onto appetizer forks with elongated handles, and listen to the sound of the meat sizzle and fry. Supper takes a bit longer, the conversation seems more lighthearted, and everyone lingers just a bit longer.