blog archive for October 2008

Not long ago, I read people were cooking more from scratch. In the midst of the economic blight, it makes perfect sense and although I can't imagine anyone boiling bagels or making Jell-O the old-fashioned way with gelatin and sugar, I can picture them whisking salad dressings and stirring chocolate pudding.  

"From scratch" cooking is something Harry Balzer would know. Harry is at NPD, a marketing group that studies consumer behavior. For 30 years his specialty has been American eating habits—not what people say they eat, but what they actually put in their mouths. Off the top of his head, Harry knows ham is the most popular homemade sandwich and fruit is the nation's favorite dessert. He knows people are still going to restaurants, but instead of having supper, they're eating breakfast or buying take-out. Harry has the numbers to prove more men are cooking and packaged foods and microwaves are on the increase. But he says there's no evidence from-scratch cooking is on the rise.  

In fact, cooking is not one of America's favorite habits. According to Harry, preparing a meal is a task, which turns into a job, which people don't want. "Cooking is recreational when you don't have to do it every day," says Harry.

For someone like me, who likes nothing better than putting on an apron and cooking up a storm, it's hard to believe.  But if Harry says so, it must be true.

There's a jar of fines herbes sitting on the shelf, which I always mean to use, but when I take off the cover and take a whiff, the only thing I get is tarragon. This would be OK if I wanted tarragon, but fines herbes is supposed to be more than that. In its purest form, it's a combination of parsley, chives and tarragon, but my guess is French cooks doctor it with other herbs. Unlike many Americans, who tend to season as if they need a jolt of something strong to cover what's underneath, the French use herbs to quietly enhance the flavor of a dish.  

Although I would never count myself as a French country cook, I'm pretty careful about what I add to a recipe. And so, whenever I've been tempted to sprinkle a pinch of supermarket fines herbes, I decide to go with my own blend of fresh parsley, dried rosemary and thyme.  

All that changed when a friend gave me a cellophane packet of fines herbes she bought in Provence. In addition to little flecks of green, which smell like a balance of thyme and possibly sage or rosemary, there are tiny bits that might be lavender. One sniff and you understand why people go to France for the food.    

I know cookbooks say fines herbes are for soups, eggs and cheese dishes, but when you have a seasoning so good, you become amazingly creative. I've been crumbling it over sauteed vegetables and chicken dishes and adding it to cream sauces and grain pilafs. I'm planning to use it in a pot of white bean soup and sprinkle it into a spaghetti frittata. Sooner, rather than later, it's going to run out and I'll go back to my parsley, thyme and rosemary routine. In the meantime, I'm feeling très chic.

The first apple pie of the season just came out of the oven, and if I must say, it’s a culinary work of art. It’s the pie I bring to potluck suppers, and people rush through their meal to get in line for dessert. Grown men push their way to the front and, when they think no one is looking, lick their plates clean.   

Before the pie goes into the oven, I brush a little milk and sprinkle sugar over the top so it’s got a bit of a glaze, and while it’s still warm, I give it my signature topping — a sugary drizzle of thick white icing.  Also, it’s covered with a lattice crust — you don’t see those very often on apple pies, but it seems to make a better balance of pastry and fruit than the usual vented top crust.

About the apples — I know some cooks swear by Romes, but I think Cortlands make the best pies. Besides their great taste, they hold their shape. Macs also have good flavor, but they tend to fall apart when cooked so instead of nice slices, you end up with something resembling cinnamon applesauce sandwiched between two crusts.

For the crust, combine 1 1/2 cups flour and 2 1/2 tablespoons sugar. Cut in 1/2 cup shortening and add about 5 tablespoons ice water or enough to form a dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and put in fridge.

For the filling, combine 2 1/4 pounds apples, peeled and sliced (about 7 cups), 3/4 cup sugar, 3 tablespoons flour, 1 tablespoon lemon juice and 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon.

Preheat the oven to 425F. Roll about two-thirds of the dough into a rough 12-inch circle and fit into a 9-inch pie plate. Fill with apples. Roll remaining dough into a rough 12-inch circle and cut in 8 strips. Place strips in lattice pattern on top of pie and seal edges.   

Brush pastry with about a teaspoon of milk and sprinkle with 2 teaspoons sugar. Bake 20 minutes. Lower temperature to 375 degrees and bake another 20 minutes or until the crust is golden brown. Cool the pie on a rack and when it’s at room temperature or still warm, whisk 1/3 cup confectioners’ sugar and about 1 teaspoon warm water to make a thick glaze. Drizzle over the top. Makes a 9-inch pie.         

arry it to the table and stand back so the crowd can get through!

The January 2006 anniversary issue of Gourmet magazine has always been one of my favorites. After 65 years of publishing, the magazine celebrated by  featuring the best recipes from every year.

Like anyone who was around when celery stuffed with cream cheese and sprinkled with paprika, and onion soup mix mixed with sour cream were the rage, I’ve always known there were trends in food, but it took that Gourmet for me to see how much has happened the nation’s kitchens.   

For instance, in the 1940s, Americans were starting to cook “ethnic,” and the magazine had recipes for Indonesian fried rice and duck a l’orange with homemade duck stock. This was, after all, Gourmet, and if you were going to caramelize sugar and sieve vegetables, you might just as well make stock.

Ten years later, the magazine announced that baking was making a comeback, and readers were treated to butterscotch pie and galette des rois (almond butter cake), which took almost a whole page of instructions and hours to make. Beef was also popular, and there was a steak au poivre with four 10-ounce steaks, half a stick of butter and heavy cream — a recipe that should have come with a health warning.

Over the next couple of decades, home cooks tiptoed into vegetarianism and chefs into nouvelle cuisine — small servings of “light” food arranged like works of art. I remember a man who said his only question after eating a very expensive nouvelle cuisine lunch was how many hands it took to “plate” his food.   

By the ’80’s Americans had enough of mini-portions and were back into layer cakes and cheese grits, and by the ’90’s Gourmet’s cooks let down their hair and printed a black-bean chili from Fog City Diner in San Francisco and pizza with three cheeses and onion. For readers with time on their hands, there were homemade cheese crackers, and from Quaglino’s in London, where an order of fish can run to $75, there was apple charlotte with vanilla custard sauce.

At the turn of the century, Gourmet was focusing on zippy flavors — chocolate, chili and coffee. In the anniversary issue there is a full-page picture of a chocolate souffle cake that’s a culinary pin-up, and a cauliflower gratin with horseradish crumbs that I’m thinking about for Thanksgiving.                                   

Yesterday, I flipped back to the 1940s and found a chicken cacciatore that sounds great. I know I’ll get to it someday, but I draw the line at celery stuffed with cream cheese.