whipped mashed potatoes with celery root

photo by Ben Ransford

How is everyone today?
Yeah, we're okay too. Joey's well enough to be silkscreening off site, so I'm holding down the fort, slowly cleaning up the glorious mess that was the holiday.
The girls are fighting, and I'm realizing that might be sort of my fault, because all they have had today is leftover dessert. Oh wait, Rosie's eating cheese crackers now. There's protein in those, right?
I'm going to be bold here and make a plug for friend thanksgiving next year. We convinced everyone to abandon their families (Thanks Nancy, Linda, and all of you for being so generous) and come over here. My family ended up slipping in at the last moment, so there was at least one grandma present.
I know this is a family holiday and all, but family has a lot of different meanings around here, so I think that it's a good time to open up the definition.
And how did it go? We cooked all day while the kids ground fancy crackers into the rug. We ate hours after the planned time, and no one complained. We ate ten stalks of brussels sprouts. The food came out really well. I had such a bad headache by the end of the day that I could hardly eat, but I was happy anyway, and I had a great lunch today. We had a wayward traveler up from the city who made us pumpkin hot toddies with dessert. Joey was finally well enough to do dishes. And it was warm, and cloudy, and the kids were outside all afternoon. And I was thankful for that and a lot more.
Today it's cold and windy, and I'm moving slowly. I promise that I won't give you any more Thanksgiving recipes, but I'd feel mean if I didn't tell you about our mashed potatoes. They've got celeriac in them which is totally brilliant, and they're not everyday mashed potatoes, but I'm sure that you can find some special occasion to make them.


Whipped Mashed Potatoes with Celery Root
adapted from Saveur November 2008

1 lb celery root (celeriac), peeled and cut into cubes
2 cups half-and-half
1 stick unsalted butter
8 sprigs fresh thyme
3 lbs russet potatoes, peeled and quartered
salt and pepper

In a 2 qt. saucepan, combine the celery root, half-and-half, butter, and thyme. Bring to a boil, lower heat, and simmer, partially covered, until celery root is tender, about 25 minutes. Discard thyme. Meanwhile, combine potatoes and 2 tsp. kosher salt in a 6 qt. saucepan add water so the potatoes are covered by about 1 inch. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes. Transfer the celeriac and cream mixture to a food processor and blend until very smooth. Drain potatoes and mash with a masher. Add celery root puree and mash a bit more. Add pepper to taste.

thanks.

a request

When you're out at the store today, fighting it out with some panicky woman over the last garnet yams, would you mind grabbing a couple of extra items?
There's probably a box, right by the exit door, for people who need a little something more than they can afford. Throw a few things in that box. It will probably go to someone right there in your town. How great is that.
To those of you who are celebrating, Happy Thanksgiving. I'll check back in tomorrow. Stay calm. It will all get done.

cranberry sauce

I know that I've been saying this a lot lately, but it's been a bit of a day. Joey was home again with the flu. It's not really his style to be sick for so long, and we're pretty sure all of this will be over tomorrow.

It better be, because there are a lot of people coming over here for Thanksgiving, and there is a large turkey in my refrigerator. It has quite a presence.

We took him (Joey, not the turkey) to the doctor today, confirmed that he was, in fact, not dying, and then the girls and I went for a drive to go meet some friends that we haven't seen in a long time.
They are a family that makes an afternoon feel a bit sparkly.

We finally made it home, Joey was thankfully still alive and on his fourth cup of garlic lemonade. I cleaned up, dry brined the damn turkey, and here I am.
Somehow in the midst of all that, I made cranberry sauce.


Is it because I am a super hero?
No. It is because cranberry sauce is that easy.
I know there are some of you who have an attachment to can shaped gelatinous "cranberry sauce". Go ahead. Eat that. I'm not going to try to convince you out of it, because frankly, I'm wiped and I recognize that holiday food habits are hard to break, even wrong to break.
My grandmother used to make her cranberry sauce with canned pineapple. I could eat gallons of it in one day. I seem, like Sadie, to have developed an allergy to pineapple (maybe it was all that cranberry sauce) so I make it with canned mandarin oranges. Do what you like, but make it soon so that it can sit around and meld a bit. Or eat the canned stuff. Just don't bring it over here.


Cranberry Sauce

2 10 oz. bags fresh or frozen organic cranberries (organic is really important here)
2/3 cup water
1 10.75 oz. can of mandarin oranges in juice
1 cinnamon stick
8 cloves
2 cardamom pods
pinch of dried orange peel
1/4-1/3 cup maple syrup, to taste (I like it a bit sour still)

In a medium saucepan, combine the cranberries and water. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer for 15 minutes, or until the cranberries start to burst.
Then stir in the oranges and their juice (make sure that they are not in syrup).
In a cheesecloth, combine the spices, tie them up, and throw the bundle in. If that feels too fussy to you, you can also add ground spices instead to your own liking. I like the cheesecloth because it really infuses the whole mixture.
Cook at the lowest heat for another 30 minutes or so. Add maple syrup. Cool, refrigerate, and remove cheesecloth before serving.

popcorn

You know that I love a good kitchen gadget, but this is one of the most important ones I have. Some people grew up with an air popper, and the sparks that are bound to fly out of the outlet when you unplug it don't scare them.

I am happy to be one of those people. This courage provides me with an astounding parenting tool.

Popcorn.

Not from a bag, not from anything with a cancer causing lining, not even from a pot filled with oil that I have yet to master. Plug it in. If you make it through that, your golden.

When I am having one of those moments when I desire to be a perfect mother, but there is no way that I am going to achieve my dream, I make popcorn. I become an instant hero, create a party in the kitchen, and feed my kids a warm, homemade, incredibly cheap snack. It takes 3 minutes, and the process is better to watch than a silly you tube video that would buy you the same amount of peace. Your children will dance in the kitchen, and then they will eat whole grains. There are no downsides.

Until I have to unplug the thing again. I guess that's why the air popper cost me 17 dollars at the hardware store and looks like it was made in 1958. But I'm still here to tell the tale.

Gotta find someway to live dangerously, right?

butternut lentil dal

You didn't think I was going to make it through last night, did you?

But I did.

And I made it to work party this morning, leaving Joey sick again in bed, dragging the girls behind me. They cheered up with a little Roald Dahl in the car.

Today, we moved our friends from one house to another.

They just sold their house, a house that they built with their own hands. I was thinking today about all of the work parties that we've had over the years at that house. We've plastered walls and moved wood and planted lots of things in the ground. The kids have crawled and run and ridden their bikes in the driveway. And now the house has moved on, and so have they. The new owners even took over the chickens.

I've never been very settled. Growing up, I lived in more houses than I could count. But I was thinking today about the special kind of settled that has allowed me to be around for all this movement. It feels like such a gift to be let in on my friends' transitions, even to help out with them. If feels like something that I can't put my finger on is rooted, even if everything moves so fast around it. Does that make any sense? It's hard to find the words. I guess it's something like community.


And the soup, despite the hour at which it was made, was a hit. Sweet and warm, like the sunny fall day that required it.


Butternut Lentil Dal

This soup was born out of a day when I had a few friends over for lunch. I had made roasted butternut squash soup and red lentil soup, and everyone decided to combine them. So I played with the combination and here's the result. Let me know what you think.

2 medium Butternut Squash (about 3 lbs)
1/2 stick butter
2 large onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 inch piece of ginger, peeled and grated
2 cups red lentils, rinsed
6 cups water
1 1/2 pounds potatoes, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
3 carrots (about 1/2 lb) peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp curry powder
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the squash, whole, on an oiled baking sheet. Bake for about an hour, or until they are slightly blackened and the skin is loose. Allow to cool.

Melt the butter in a large soup pot. Add the onion and sautee over low to medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it starts to caramelize, 15-20 minutes. Add the garlic, grated ginger, cumin, turmeric, salt, cardamom, curry powder, and cinnamon. Cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the lentils and the water. bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cover. Add the potatoes and carrots. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the lentils are tender.

Meanwhile, when the squash is cool enough to touch, peel off the skin. It should come off easily. Separate the seeds from the flesh. Combine the squash flesh with the can of coconut milk in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth.

Add to the soup pot and cook for an additional 10-15 minutes. Taste for seasonings and adjust if needed. Add additional water if soup is thicker than you would like. Serve with rice and roasted cauliflower.

late night soup

Did you know this ginger trick? That ginger will shed its peel without argument if you take a spoon to it?
Remember it. You'll need it tomorrow.
Tonight I'm making soup. It's late, Joey's got a fever again after a week of health, and I'm making soup for a work party tomorrow. He's sad and sick in the bedroom and I'm in the kitchen, sad for him, listening to the horrible folk show that plays on the public radio station on Saturday nights. I'm no enemy to folk, but this is really bad stuff. I think I'm trying to punish myself a bit, maybe so I can feel Joey's pain. Or maybe I'm a little bit comforted by the horrible folk show for reasons that confound me. Who knows, but I'm having trouble turning it off. And the lighting in the kitchen seems to be getting dimmer and dimmer. I've just had a chopping injury, and so now I'm taking a break, typing with one hand. My Saturday is just a little bit funny, don't you think?

I'm making a soup that I've been creating in my mind for a few days now. I'll tell you about it tomorrow if it's good, but make sure you have some ginger handy so you can be ready. And a spoon. And I guess, if you're following my lead, a band aid.