Cooking by the Book

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Now that temperatures in Charleston have edged over the 80° mark, I don’t leave the house without something cold to drink.  Usually, that drink is water.  But once in awhile, I get awfully bored with the clear stuff, and a squeeze or two of lemon just isn’t enough to revive my interest.  At times like those, I really miss iced tea, which I can’t have much of these days.

Yes, it seems pregnancy is going to pervade this blog.  Is it too late to change the name?

Anyway, necessity being the mother of invention and all that, I’ve since found a few recipes for refreshing drinks that neither contain caffeine nor have the ability to leech iron or folic acid (tea, it turns out, is a sneaky little bastard. Who knew?).  One of my favorites comes from the newer of the two Gourmet cookbooks; it’s a fruity, healthy concoction called “Agua Fresca.”

Because the recipe begs for adaptation, I’m going to ditch my usual scrupulousness about copyright laws and tell you exactly how to make it.  I hope Ruth Reichl doesn’t smite me!

To prepare an agua fresca, all you really need is a blender and some basic ingredients:  two cups of cold water, one cup of ice cubes, 1/4 cup of sugar, 1 tablespoon of lime juice, and 2 cups of your favorite tropical-esque fruit.  Following Gourmet’s suggestion, I often use pineapple (frozen works fine, and is so easy!) with a few basil leaves thrown in.  I’ve also used strawberry and basil, subbing lemon juice for the lime.

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Once you add the ingredients to the blender, run it until the drink looks smooth and free of big pieces of fruit.  The book suggests forcing the blended liquid through a sieve to make sure it’s lump-free, but I tend to run the blender for eons and skip that step.  Here’s what it’ll look like if you do that, though:

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Side note: Do not buy this Kenmore blender. It is dreadful.

After an hour or so in the refrigerator, the drinks are cold, smooth, and ready to enjoy. They’re a tasty way to get a serving or two of fruit, and they look really fun in tall glasses, too.  And really, isn’t that what it’s all about?

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The basil gives these their green tint.

If I’ve written a lot about cooking for guests lately, it’s because that’s what I’ve spent a lot of my summer doing!  We’ve been lucky enough to have friends and family visiting on a near-weekly basis, and I always try to have something yummy and homemade ready when they arrive.  We don’t often do full blown dinners – part of the fun of visiting Charleston is, after all, sampling its amazing restaurant scene – but we like to have something on hand.  When Bryce’s brother Daniel and his wife, Aubrey, came to visit, I made a batch of Frank Stitt’s Pecan Sandies.

I’d looked forward to trying this recipe from the day I noticed it in Stitt’s book.  Though his other desserts appear equally or more tempting than the sandies, I loved the idea of making my own slice-and-bake cookies.  Truth be told, rolling, cutting, and baking them yourself is much more fun that just buying a tube of Pillsbury in the supermarket.

The sandies start with oven-toasted pecans, coarsely chopped.

Chopping Pecans

Folded into an intensely buttery batter, the pecans lend it a coarse texture.  So I was surprised, as I scraped the batter from the mixing bowl, by how soft and easy to handle it was.  It felt almost like fluffy nougat, or an unusually dense meringue, as I rolled it into a log.

Pecan Sandies RollOnce it had chilled for a half hour, the batter was ready for slicing and baking.  I divided slices between two parchment-lined baking sheets, and crossed my fingers while they browned in the oven.

Pecan Sandies

Soon, my not-quite-round sandies were finished and ready to eat!  They were vaguely crisp but also delicate, ready to dissolve as soon as they entered my mouth.  Buttery and studded with plenty of pecan pieces, they tasted much better than their Keebler cousins, too!

I think Pecan Sandies are an ideal cookie to make in advance when you’re preparing to welcome good friends.  Because they’re not too sweet, they work just as well as an afternoon snack as they do a low-key dessert.  They also keep well for a few days, so you won’t be scrambling around the kitchen while your friends are out sight-seeing.  Just be sure not to make them too far in advance – if you do, your supply might run out before your guests even arrive!

We’ve had a lot to celebrate here in Charleston.  New friends, visits from old friends, a scholarship or two, and sightseeing with our families has kept us busy and happy, mindful of the blessing of summer.  Most recently, we celebrated Bryce’s white coat ceremony at MUSC, which took place on Saturday.

DSC_0021WhiteCoat2

Special events like this one usually call for feasting, and Bryce’s ceremony was no exception.  Over the weekend, we had a dinner and dessert downtown, cocktails at too many restaurants to count, sunset seafood  at the Isle of Palms, and an Italian brunch on John’s Island.  For someone who loves food as much as I do, it was a heady, downright dizzying weekend!

After so much extravagant eating, though, Bryce and I sometimes feel the need to do penance by eating simple, healthy meals at home.  When the time for atonement comes, we often turn to the Mayo Clinic Cookbook, a guide to health-conscious cooking designed by the famous medical institute.  It’s recipes include nutritional breakdowns beside their ingredients, which are often fresh fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins.

One of the best summer recipes in their book is for Squash with Leek Vinaigrette.  Sliced and steamed, the squash – and in my case, zucchini – are a perfect foil for a flavorful vinaigrette built around chopped leeks.

Chopped Leeks

Humble as they may be, leeks are one of my favorite foods.  Like larger, milder scallions, they’re fairly inexpensive and easy to use, but they lend lots of fresh flavor to soups, sauces, and even this vinaigrette.  To make it, I softened the leeks in olive oil, then added them to vegetable stock, vinegar, lemon juice, salt and pepper.

While the leeks sauteed, I steamed yellow squash and zucchini in a covered pan.  When they were tender but still firm, I tossed them into the vinaigrette and sat down to eat.

Squash and Zucchini

These vegetables would make a great side dish to grilled meat or fish, or even grilled portobello mushrooms.  Served atop rice, though, they can be a satisfying meal all on their own.

Squash with Leek Vinaigrette

With recipes as flavorful as this one, even foodie penance doesn’t seem so bad.

I love trying new recipes almost as much as I love eating at new restaurants.  Sometimes, though, I get stuck on a particular combination of ingredients and find myself cooking it again and again.  That’s exactly what happened when I found Ina Garten’s recipe for onion dip, which she enhances with plenty of golden, caramelized slices of onion.  Whenever I have weekend guests, I follow Ina’s lead by keeping a container of the dip and a big bag of Cape Cod chips on hand.

I usually use yellow onions in the dip, though sweet varieties work well, too.  Halved and thinly sliced with a serrated knife, they’re ready for long, slow cooking in a frying pan.

slicing onions

The slices look overwhelming  in number when they hit the pan, but they quickly condense as they cook in oil and butter.  Ina recommends browning them over high heat, then lowering the temperature to finish them gently.  Speckled with salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne, the onions smell homey and comforting.

Browning Onions

Caramelizing Onions

When the onions were a rich, translucent gold, I let them cool to room temperature.  I whisked sour cream, softened cream cheese, and mayonnaise together in the meantime, creating a creamy base for the dip.  Combined with the onions and the pan oils, the dip took on an amber hue.

onion dip

Served at room temperature, Ina’s onion dip is dangerously addictive.  Imagine the best store bought type you’ve ever had, then give it more subtle sweetness and a taste that’s lighter despite being rich with butter.  Sounds good, right?

I most recently made the dip when Bryce’s brother, Daniel, and his wife, Aubrey, came to visit, and it barely survived a day!  We pulled it out of the fridge between meals and even carted it to the beach in a cooler.  The dip is so good, in fact, that I’ve had to make a kitchen rule:  because it so completely saps my restraint, this stuff only gets made when we have visitors.  It’s a tough rule to follow, but its also entirely necessary.

I promised you a sad kitchen story.

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While there are many world cuisines about which I’m relatively ignorant, I do take pride in my familiarity with the cooking customs of some non-Anglo cultures.  With help from cookbooks by Madhur Jaffrey, Marcus Samuelsson, and Susanna Foo, I’ve picked up a few skills and tricks for approaching Indian, African (broad as that may be!), and Chinese dishes, respectively. In fact, I probably use more curry powder in my kitchen than I do oregano!

One of the best parts about exploring other culinary traditions is encountering ingredients you won’t find in your average Food Lion.  Foo, for instance, includes a recipe for “Lychee and Lemon Thyme Sorbet” in her cookbook, Susanna Foo Fresh Inspiration.  When I was in search of a dessert to complement Char Siu and fried rice, I decided to try that frozen, Chinese treat.

Lychees are a small, thin-shelled fruit that are becoming increasingly popular in America.  I think, oddly enough, that they have an appearance and texture akin to those of sea scallops.  Off-putting as that might sound, lychees are a delicate and sweet addition to smoothies (we had one in Honolulu!), mixed drinks (remember the mojito at Coast?), and lots of desserts.

Lychees

Foo’s recipe calls for canned lychees, which are the only kind I’ve seen in local stores.  Pureed in the food processor and boiled with honey, thyme, and lemon juice, they made for an especially easy dessert.

Lychee Syrup

The great thing about making sorbet as opposed to ice cream is that there’s no need to make a temperature-sensitive  custard before you strain and freeze your mixture.  If you’re curious about making frozen desserts but afraid of curdled cream or a thin custard, sorbet is an unintimidating treat to tackle.  After just a few minutes on the stove, my strained liquid was ready to chill before hitting the ice cream maker.

Unfortunately, this is where the story gets sad.  After minutes spinning in its frozen bowl, the lychee syrup yielded approximately two scoops of sorbet!  Perhaps Foo’s lychees were canned in more syrup than mine were, but whatever the reason, I wound up with a disappointing portion of dessert instead of the expected pint.  David, Bryce, and I were forced to split this:

Lychee Sorbet

Pretty pathetic, no?  The sorbet was beautifully sweet and fragrant from the thyme and lemon, but there simply wasn’t enough of it to go around.  If we hadn’t had such a satisfying dinner, it really could’ve been a disaster!

I usually try to learn from my kitchen pitfalls, but I don’t know what happened here.  There simply wasn’t enough syrup to freeze into a pint of sorbet. Any random guesses?

When I bought an enormous pork shoulder to make my family barbecue, I found myself with a pound or so to spare.  Fortunately, Gourmet has a recipe for Char Siu, which is essentially Chinese barbecue, on the same page as the guidelines for their North Carolina pork.  Served with Gourmet’s “Bok Choy with Soy Sauce and Butter” and The Splendid Table’s fried rice, the Char Siu made for one of the best meals we’d had in some time.

Char Sui takes awhile to make, but requires very little work.  After I stirred together a mahogany-colored marinade of hoisin sauce, soy sauce, sake, honey, ginger, and garlic, there was no mixing or chopping involved.  Coated with the marinade, the pork can sit in the refrigerator for up to one day.

Marinating Pork

Once it’s chilled for at least four hours, the pork is ready for the oven.  I roasted it on a rack set above a pan of water, occasionally brushing it with leftover marinade.

Barbecuing Pork

After about an hour, the pork was dark and tender.  While it cooled on a cutting board, I tossed choy sum, a beautiful Asian green that’s very similar to bok choy, in a wok with soy sauce and butter.  It was ready in just a few minutes, and it smelled fantastic!

choy sum

I wish I had more pictures of the accompanying fried rice, which also came together very quickly, but it was too good to last long.  Studded with green scallions and strands of egg, the rice was stir-fried with an amazing sauce that resembled the Char Siu marinade.  I did manage to snap a picture of Bryce’s plate before he sat down to eat:

Chinese Dinner

Without the saltiness that can sully strip mall Chinese food, the fried rice, pork, and greens tasted wonderful and fresh.  The meal was a great spin on the classic meat-starch-vegetable combination, and I can’t wait to make it again!

Next time, I’ll tell you the sad story of my Chinese dessert.

Whenever my brother comes to dinner, I prepare a list of kitchen standards that I know he loves.  It’s almost a ritual at this point, because the menu almost never changes!  I cook deviled eggs and macaroni and cheese, and then I send Bryce to the grill with a plate of chicken breasts and a big bowl of homemade barbecue sauce (there’s a story behind the recipe, but I’ll save that for another time).  When David arrives, I’m usually working on dessert, which is the only real variable in this otherwise predictable equation.

David’s recent visit to Charleston, though, coincided with that of my parents and younger sister.  While they love barbecue and mac ‘n cheese as much as the next family, I wasn’t sure they’d enjoy a sauce whose distinguishing feature is an entire bottle of Texas Pete.  So I decided to change things up a bit for the occasion by making Gourmet’s recipe for North Carolina-style barbecue.  Cooked indoors on the stove and in the oven, the chopped and sauced pork is a great match for coleslaw on a fluffy bun.

Pork shoulder is an amazingly inexpensive cut of meat, but it needs lots of cooking to ensure its tenderness.  I started its transformation in a pot of simmering water, where the meat absorbed flavor from chopped onions, carrots, celery, garlic, peppercorns, and vinegar.

Simmering Pork Shoulder

The nice thing about cooking an entree that requires so much stove time is that it leaves plenty of opportunity to make sides to go with it.  In lieu of the usual baked pasta, I decided to serve a gratin with potatoes and herbed Boursin cheese, a bowlful of coleslaw, and some buttered shoepeg corn.

I used my fancy slicer to cut the potatoes uniformly thick.  Because of its ridged edge, though, it also made them look like uncooked potato chips!  I think Allison was mildly disappointed when she realized they weren’t destined for hot oil.

sliced potatoes

Following a recipe from the Bon Appetit cookbook, I warmed Boursin cheese with cream to create a sauce for the potatoes.  The Boursin is already flavored with herbs, so I only added salt and pepper to the potatoes for seasoning.

Boursin Potato Gratin

While the potatoes baked, I cut cabbage, green pepper, and onion for the coleslaw.  With a bag of matchstick carrots (there are a few tasks I’m too lazy to tackle!), they were ready to toss with whisked mayonnaise, sour cream, and vinegar.

Coleslaw VeggiesMaking Coleslaw

Soon, I transferred the pork shoulder to a roasting pan, where it cooked with even more vinegar for another hour.  It grew tender and crisp in the oven while I stirred together a tomato-based barbecue sauce on the stove.  With only small quantities of Tabasco and ground cayenne for heat, I knew the sauce would be milder than my fiery standard.

Chopped and reheated with ladles of sauce, the barbecue looked great!  Allison still found the sauce a bit spicy, but overall, it was a big hit.  My favorite part of the meal was the potatoes, because they were creamy, evenly cooked, and ridiculously easy to make.

Oven Barbecue

Baked Boursin Potato Gratin

With a hungry family in my tiny apartment, I decided to forgo the usual plating pictures and just leave you with the finished dishes of barbecue and potato gratin.  We assembled sandwiches packed with coleslaw and meat, then balanced their heat with bites of potatoes and corn.  It was, I think, a great start to our visit.

One of my favorite things about shopping farmers’ markets is discovering foods that seldom show up in grocery stores.  Back in Carrboro, where the meat producers are many and varied, I cooked buffalo and goat for the first time.  And in Charleston, I’ve established my love affair with fresh field peas and found the smallest, most perfect eggplants I’ve ever seen.  As the seasons change, so do the offerings, so I’m never sure what I’ll stumble upon next!  Most recently, I picked up a dozen just-picked zucchini blossoms from a cooler at Kennerty Farms.

Zucchini Blossoms

Zucchini blossoms aren’t particularly exotic; they’re just the flowers that result in the ubiquitous, dark green vegetable.  The female blooms produce and feed developing zucchini, while the males make that production possible.  Both sexes are delicious in their own right, though, and are easy to come by if you have your own squash plants.  My male blossoms arrived shrouded in layers of protective paper towels, which were dampened and packed in a plastic container.

Last summer, the magazine Bon Appetit featured zucchini blossoms in a section about seasonal produce, sharing recipes that showcase their delicate flavor.  I dragged out my old copy in search of inspiration, and decided to make Zucchini Blossom and Chicken Saltimbocca.  A riff on the classic Italian dish, the recipe consists of thin chicken breasts and zucchini blossoms wrapped in prosciutto, then sauteed with white wine.

Zucchini Blossoms Atop Chicken

Assembling the little bundles of chicken and zucchini blossoms felt like a sort of colorful craft project.  I used toothpicks to hold everything in place, then removed them before Bryce and I sat down to eat.

Zucchini Blossoms with Proscuitto and Chicken

Because they’re cooked zucchini side down, the blossoms quickly wilt in the saute pan.  As the prosciutto crisps, it lends salty, oily flavor to the chicken and blossoms.

Sauteeing Chicken

Making Saltimbocca

Once the chicken was cooked through, I poured the pan sauce over it on the plate.  The dish’s texture was a great contrast of crispy prosciutto, soft zucchini blossoms, and tender chicken.  And the wine’s acidity balanced the oils in the preparation, lending a fairly heavy meal a measure of restraint.

Zucchini Blossom Saltimbocca

Bryce and I both loved this recipe; it came across as a more sophisticated version of your standard protein-wrapped-in-bacon concoction.  My only complaint, though, is that the delicate zucchini blossoms were a bit overshadowed by the prosciutto’s more assertive flavor.  The next time I make it, I’ll wrap each piece of chicken in just one slice of ham.  It might not insulate the blossoms as well, but I think it will better allow their goodness to shine!

As much as I enjoy desserts like peach cobbler and strawberry pie , I’m sometimes hesitant to cook the beautiful fruits of summer.  I’d just as soon savor fresh blackberries from a bowl as mound them on a tart crust, and raspberries are lucky to last an hour in my apartment.  When food tastes so good without embellishment, why bother preheating the oven?

One answer: blueberry muffins.

blueberry muffin

I love blueberry muffins for their unbeatable reward-to-work ratio.  Gourmet’s version is so full of fruit that the muffins leave sticky purple puddles in the pan.  And because they don’t require chopping or vigorous mixing, they’re deceptively easy to throw together.

blueberry muffin batterblueberry muffin crumblesbaked blueberry muffins

Sprinkled with a coarse mix of butter, sugar, and flour, the muffins only need 20 minutes to bake.  But if you have a few friends (or one Bryce) on hand, they’ll take even less time to eat!  Ours barely grace the cooling rack before they disappear.

Back in Chapel Hill, one of my favorite restaurants is Talullas, a Turkish outpost on the west end of Franklin Street.  Its Manti (traditional dumplings in a yogurt sauce) and Pide (Turkish pizzas) are especially good, and its lantern-lit dining room always feels festive.  On a night out, it’s hard to beat sliding into one of its curtained booths with a group of friends; the pillowed seats are situated right in the restaurant’s front windows, so they’re literally a place to see and be seen.

While I can’t recreate the complete experience of dining at Talullas here in Charleston, I occasionally ease the sting of separation by cooking my own Turkish food.  Last week, I grilled Lamb Kofte, cigar-shaped skewers of meat with plenty of heat and spice.  Perched atop rice and drizzled with an easy garlic-yogurt sauce, the Kofte were a great stand in for Talullas’s cuisine.

Like most meatballs or hamburgers, Kofte begin as a mix of meat, spices, and onion in a bowl.  I seasoned the ground lamb with hot paprika and a recipe for baharat that I found online, then added soaked white bread (a la Paula Deen!) to bind the mixture.

Kofte Mix

I was surprised at how well everything held together as I rolled and skewered the Kofte.  They could’ve been a bit longer and thinner, but I wasn’t taking any chances!

Skewered Kofte

While Bryce manned the grill, I roasted some Baby Ichiban eggplant we’d found at the Farmers’ Market.  Though that variety is Japanese (the name gives it away, right?), I tossed them with a Mediterranean-inspired vinaigrette.

Sliced Baby Eggplant

Cilantro Vinaigrette

I always roast the hell out of eggplant, because I like them soft and custardy without a trace of styrofoam texture.  While they were in the oven, I stirred minced garlic and salt into plain yogurt to make a simple, tangy sauce for the Kofte.

Garlic Yogurt Sauce

When the Kofte came off the grill, they were dark and fragrant with spice.  The best thing about them, though, was their smooth texture.  Instead of crumbling like grilled ground meat often does, the bites of lamb were silky smooth and cohesive.  Yogurt sauce and a bed of rice muted their considerable heat, and the eggplant added a splash of freshness to the plate.

Kofte with Eggplant

The lamb was a delicious introduction to cooking Turkish food; if you can grill a hamburger or shape a meatball, you can make Kofte.  Now that I’ve enjoyed them, I can’t wait to tackle some of the recipes that Tallulas has posted on their own website.  If they’d only post those Manti!

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