Scary Fall Stew

Some food can be a little scary.

We tend to shy away from food that we don't understand. I totally understand this urge. I mean, we're talking about things that we are putting in our bodies here. There's a lot at stake. Best to stay with the familiar.

Or not. Because when we eat something new, the world opens up a little bit more to us.

Before you know it, there is something new to make for dinner. A whole new dish. And it doesn't seem so scary any more. It is actually... really good.


There are a few vegetables out there right now that are fully worth your while. Celeriac, kohlrabi, turnips- if you like how autumn smells, try tasting it.

So suck it up and get out your vegetable peeler. I promise, it will work out.


Fall Vegetable Stew
serves 6-8

1 onion sliced into boats
4 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 ribs celery, cut into 1 inch chunks
2 carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
5 kohlrabi bulbs, peeled of the outer skin and cut into chunks
2-3 turnips, peeled and cut into chunks
1 small celeriac root, peeled and cut into chunks
1 small head of red cabbage, thinly sliced
3-4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs fresh thyme or 1 tablespoon dried thyme
olive oil
salt and pepper
parmesan cheese, for garnish

Cover the bottom of a large, heavy bottomed pot with olive oil. When it is warmed, add the onion. Stir occasionally and cook until soft. Add garlic and celery and cook for a few more minutes. Add the rest of the vegetables except for the cabbage. Add the stock. The liquid should cover a little more than half the vegetables. Add the bay leaf and thyme. Bring to a boil and turn down the heat. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until vegetables are cooked through. Salt and pepper to taste. Add the red cabbage and cover again, cooking at a low heat for an additional 10 to 15 minutes. Taste again and adjust seasonings if needed. Discard thyme and bay leaf. Garnish with a drizzle of olive oil and a few shavings of parmesan.

Buttermilk Spice Cake

Somehow, Joey and I have been lucky enough the last several years to be part of a miraculous thing called work party.
Five or six years ago, a few families got together with an idea of how to help each other out. On a given Sunday morning, everyone would head over to one family's house and do some work. The kids would play and wreak havoc. Then everyone would eat. The next month, the group would reconvene at someone else's house and do it all again.
Yeah, I know. It's a really good idea.
Within the first year there was some shifting, some turnover, and somehow Joey and I ended up getting invited to join in the fun. We were a little bit worried. Somehow the group was comprised of a disproportionate amount of builders, engineers, and all around skilled people. We had a few skills to offer- Joey could make a really great mix tape for the morning and I could organize myself a mean bookshelf. But over the years, although we may not be much more skilled than we were then, we've done a lot of things in work party we never thought we could, albeit sometimes poorly. And the girls seem to see work party as some family reunion with cousins- it's somehow related to family for them. It's a really really good thing.

We had work party this past weekend over at the farm. Luckily, there was a birthday involved and I got to make cake. I guess I do have one skill to bring to the table.


This is the first spice cake that I have made and liked. A few years ago, Joey requested a spice cake for his birthday and it was dry dry dry. This seems to be an issue in spice cakes. But not this one. This one held up like a champ, and I frosted it with a not too sweet cream cheese frosting, and added in a bit of quince butter, because it was there on my shelf, and you know how I feel about quinces. Those funny looking purple things are little candied violets, just because I happen to really like the birthday girl.
I have to admit to you, although I've gotten into the habit of making a whole lot of cakes these last few years, I have never cut a layer in half. But I did it this time, and it was entirely undisastrous. With a good serrated knife, so many things are possible.
And I've got to tell you about one more thing. When I was getting ready to frost this baby, My friend Brandee was right there, cutting pears or doing some other work-y thing. She's one of those engineers I was telling you about, so you know that she's going to have some good ideas. She suggested that I put strips of parchment around and under the outside of the cake, like this.


That way, after the the whole thing is frosted, you can pull out the strips and you have a clean cake plate. So simple, yet it would never occur to me. That's one reason why it's a good idea to have all of these engineers and builders around.


Buttermilk Spice Cake
adapted from Flo Braker, as seen in Food and Wine

For the cake:

• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 1/2 cups sifted cake flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 sticks (6 ounces) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup (packed) light brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 3 large eggs, at room temperature

For the frosting:

• 1/4 cup butter, at room temperature
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
• 2-4 tablespoons milk

• 1 cup apple, pear or quince butter
  

1. Preheat the oven to 350° and position a rack in the lower third. Butter and flour two 8-by-2-inch round cake pans. Sift the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, salt and cloves onto a sheet of wax paper. Combine the buttermilk and vanilla in a small pitcher.
2. In a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat the butter at medium speed until creamy. Add the light brown and granulated sugars and beat until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes, stopping once to scrape down the bowl. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the flour mixture at low speed in 3 batches, alternating with the buttermilk mixture, just until the batter is smooth; stop the mixer occasionally to scrape down the bowl.
3. Divide the batter evenly between the pans. Transfer the pans to the oven and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the cakes begin to shrink from the sides. Let the cakes cool for 10 minutes, then turn each out onto a rack, invert onto another rack and let cool completely. Wrap each cake in plastic and store at room temperature overnight.
4. Make the frosting: Cream together the butter and cream cheese. Add the sugar and mix well. Add the vanilla, and enough milk to get the frosting to a good consistency.
   
5. Cut each layer in half. Alternate your fillings between apple, pear or quince butter and cream cheese frosting. Finish by frosting with the cream cheese frosting.
   

sigh.... macaroons

Well, I made macaroons, sort of.
I'm not sure what happened. No lovely rise? No perfect little feet?
Some of them didn't even make it at all.

What I did make was not unpalatable, but oddly enough seemed also to be Brussels Cookies, which I have made by mistake before.

Whoops.

I seemed to have all of the right elements together.

I had lovely little candied violets that I crushed with a mortar and pestle.

I ground my own nuts into flour in my shiny new food processor, combined with lots and lots of sugar.

I aged my egg whites, brought them to a perfect temperature, and beat them till they were so lovely...they made you want to sing arias.


But things started to go down from there. Gently, gently I folded. But the lovely egg whites lost their song.

I thought it would be okay. The batter seemed a little dense, but I'd never made these before, and what do I know what the batter should look like?

My pulse got a little quicker, though. It will be alright. It will be alright.

But I forgot one thing. I was going to need to use the dreaded pastry bag.

I guess I need to say one more time... whoops.

Whatever air was left in that batter, I somehow lost in the massacre that I committed with the pastry bag. No rise. No feet.

I filled them with chocolate ganache, and now they're over there, on the table. I figure that when the family gets home, they'll never know that they're not macaroons. After all, we're simple country folk. We don't eat many pink cookies around here.

But do I still get to be in the club? I've been a daring baker for a whole year now, but have I failed a true food blogger test?
Will you forgive me if I can't make macaroons?
What if I promise to try again... someday?

The 2009 October Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to us by Ami S. She chose macarons from Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern as the challenge recipe.

Here is Ami's recipe... I added crushed candied violets to the batter, and filled the cookies with a basic dark chocolate ganache.

Give it a try. I bet that you'll succeed! Just don't hold it over my head.

Ingredients
Confectioners’ (Icing) sugar: 2 ¼ cups (225 g, 8 oz.)
Almond flour: 2 cups (190 g, 6.7 oz.)
Granulated sugar: 2 tablespoons (25 g , .88 oz.)
Egg whites: 5 (Have at room temperature)

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 200°F (93°C). Combine the confectioners’ sugar and almond flour in a medium bowl. If grinding your own nuts, combine nuts and a cup of confectioners’ sugar in the bowl of a food processor and grind until nuts are very fine and powdery.
2. Beat the egg whites in the clean dry bowl of a stand mixer until they hold soft peaks. Slowly add the granulated sugar and beat until the mixture holds stiff peaks.
3. Sift a third of the almond flour mixture into the meringue and fold gently to combine. If you are planning on adding zest or other flavorings to the batter, now is the time. Sift in the remaining almond flour in two batches. Be gentle! Don’t overfold, but fully incorporate your ingredients.
4. Spoon the mixture into a pastry bag fitted with a plain half-inch tip (Ateco #806). You can also use a Ziploc bag with a corner cut off. It’s easiest to fill your bag if you stand it up in a tall glass and fold the top down before spooning in the batter.
5. Pipe one-inch-sized (2.5 cm) mounds of batter onto baking sheets lined with nonstick liners (or parchment paper).
6. Bake the macaroon for 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and raise the temperature to 375°F (190°C). Once the oven is up to temperature, put the pans back in the oven and bake for an additional 7 to 8 minutes, or lightly colored.
7. Cool on a rack before filling.

Thanks to Ami S. of Baking Without Fear for this challenge, even if it didn't end well for me. Go straight to the daring kitchen and look at all the lovely macaroons!

A daring morning- say hello!

Yes, it's Daring Baker reveal day, and I'm working on it, but I've got to do the challenge first- so check back later!

In the mean time, I'm going to ask you to be daring too.

If you happen to stop by today, would you be so kind as to say hello? Just say hi, tell me what you're cooking, where you are, or whatever strikes you. I would love to hear from you.

And later, if I can scrape the ganache that will inevitably be on my computer screen by the end of the day, I promise I'll tell you about the challenge.

I better get on it then. I'll see you later....

a dinner party for them (updated with difficult words)

So it was an experiment.

This is how it worked. Rosie, Sadie and my sister Maia all got to invite a few friends. I cook dinner. Fancy like the grownups do it. Simple, right?


Thirteen kiddos. Paper instead of tablecloths. Crayons instead of candles, but most of the rest was the same as we do it after they go to sleep.

Except maybe the dinner guests under the table. Lucky one of the sixth graders brought face paint.


The girls choose the menu. Fancy individual baked mac and cheeses. Green Beans. Puff pastry canapes with home-whipped cream cheese and little tiny vegetables. And sparkling pink juice.




I know this all sounds really- well, I don't know, how does it sound? Crazy? Wonderful? You tell me. It sounds great as I'm writing it. And it was, at many moments. Every guest left happy, and that is the sign of a great dinner party, I think.

But who would I be if I couldn't be entirely honest here? It's been a hard week, and although I was so looking forward to putting this one on, I have to admit that in some ways I was very much not up to the task. If it weren't for Marya sticking around after she dropped off her daughter, I don't even think I would have any photos to show you.

And there was something else. Maybe it was all the excitement. Maybe it was the chocolate sauce. But the somehow the day brought out a very difficult challenge for the family. The day was work, and that was good- it's the kind of work that I like. But throughout the work, the girls chose more often than not, oh, how do I say this...

they chose not to be helpful.

In fact, they chose to be specifically unhelpful.

This is not the first time this issue has come up. If I have to be truly honest with myself, I'd say that Joey and I have let the girls down here.

So many times, we've had the conversation that begins with these words: "We all need to work in this family. It's the good thing that we do to make everything run."

And yes, my children are Montessori children. They clean, they cook, they help the younger kids.

At school.

But at home, there seems to be less time. And although they know what is expected of them, more often than not, we do it for them because it is easier and faster that way. But that is unfair.


They are wonderful, competent and creative children. As we know so well, they are empowered by the skills they have in their own environment. We're just not living up to our part of the bargain.

It's so hard to say this, but in moments like these, I think we might be raising children who are (oh, can I get this word out?)
spoiled.

We're not spoiling them by throwing a fancy dinner party for them. We're spoiling them by excluding them from the work involved in creating the party. In cleaning up from the party. In feeling gratitude to their friends for coming, and to their parents for cooking and serving.

We had a big talk. We've had the talk before, but that's okay. The girls really heard us, and I'm working on some changes that will help me live up to my side of all of this too.

I'm realizing in retrospect that I never had my dinner party preparation glass of wine last night. I think that might have been a bad idea.


I'll note that one for next time. Next time? Yeah, they might actually be real grown ups by then.

roasted vegetables

Well the girls have suckered me into throwing them a dinner party. A party for just them. At some point during the tantrum that was being thrown as I was flinging some local pork product onto galettes before my last salon dinner party, I agreed to this. (Anything! As long as you are sleeping in thirty seconds!)
So tonight I'm making ice cream, and macaroni and cheese, because they chose the menu. And tomorrow, many little children will walk in my door, puzzled by the invitation to a "dinner party". It makes perfect sense to the girls (bubbly drink, little bites on the white platter, place cards) but everyone else seems a little confused. I guess most people have to brave their first dinner party at some point, but these lucky souls will get it sooner rather than later.
I secretly think that it will be fun. Hope that it will be fun. My mind and mood have not improved much from yesterday, but there's nothing like a party to snap me out of it. A dinner party. For kids. What the hell am I thinking.
If I'm still awake tomorrow night I'll tell you about it. But in case I don't make it, I thought I'd talk about roast vegetables for a minute.
They don't need much more attention than that, to cook I mean. You can basically roast anything, but general favorites include:

beets
potatoes
brussels sprouts
carrots
celeriac
kohlrabi


The key is to get everything about the same size. I have a friend who roasts every vegetable on separate pans to allow for different cooking times. My oven is too small for this. Instead, just taste every vegetable often, so that you have actually eaten half of the vegetables by the time they are done. Cut the vegetables and toss in olive oil, salt and pepper. Lay them on a parchment lined tray. Roast at 400 degrees (no cooler!) until they are done. They are done when they taste good, but if you're someone who needs a little more direction, you're probably shooting for 30-45 minutes. They should be a little burn-y on the edges, but still juicy. Well roasted vegetables are a truly beautiful thing, and you might eat them all before dinner. Don't say I didn't warn you.

light

Somehow I knew it was going to be... a day. I felt it already and went outside as the kids got into the car- I tried to catch the light.

And it was a day. But in my wildest optimism, I think that that moment of morning stuck around.

Because all day, I somehow summoned the power to take a breath, and I must admit I can't always do this. But in the tornado that the day became, I managed to give each girl a kiss on their little lips before bed. We had peppery pasta carbonara with poached eggs for dinner, which made me a bit ill but also nourished my soul.

A few minutes after the girls went to bed, Rosie's best friend called. This was a special occurrence, and so Joey went back into their room so Rosie could talk for a moment. But she was fast asleep and unresponsive to Joey's excited whispers.

I figure a four year old who is at peace enough to fall asleep in 30 seconds is an indicator of something going right. Either that, or she's as exhausted as I am from this day.

green soup

I've got to be honest with you. I maybe wasn't going to write about this soup.
I was really excited about writing about this soup. And I made it, and it was good.
But it wasn't such a hit with the kiddos, and Joey, shall we say, endured it.
But then I ate it again today, and I've decided that you might be interested.
This is not a soup for people who don't like greens. This is not cream of green with bacon bits (although that does sound good, doesn't it?)
This is for you who like soup, and like greens, and would like them to come together in a lovely marriage. This is for that bag of greens that you're not sure what to do with, for that kale plant about ready to take over your entire yard right now. Just make sure that you save some for the second day, because it will be really great for lunch.

This is from a new cookbook called Love Soup by Anna Thomas. It is, as I'm sure that you have gleaned from the title, a book of soups, specifically vegetarian soups. Even if the idea of green soup is not exciting to you, I'm going to go so far as to say that you should take a look at this cookbook. It is inspiring and humble, and it will make you want to make soup out of everything, which is usually not such a bad idea, unless you are talking about lettuce, although I've heard people do that too.


Green Soup
from Anna Thomas, Love Soup
serves 4-6 (can easily be doubled and freezes well too)

1 bunch chard or spinach (8 oz.)
1 bunch kale (8 oz.)
4-5 green onions, sliced, white and green parts
1/2 cup loosely packed cilantro (of course I used parsley instead! horrible plant, that cilantro)
1 tsp. sea salt, plus more to taste
1 medium Yukon Gold potato
1 medium yellow onion
1 1/2 Tbs. olive oil
Marsala or dry sherry (optional)
1-2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 1/2-3 cups vegetable broth (I used chicken stock)
freshly ground pepper
cayenne
1 Tbs. fresh lemon juice, plus more to taste

garnish: fruity olive oil and feta cheese, or some other fresh white cheese

Wash the greens, trim their stems, slice the leaves. Combine the chard or spinach, kale, green onions and cilantro (parsley!) in a large soup pot with 3 cups of water and a teaspoon of salt. Peel the potato and cut into small pieces. Add it to the pot. Bring the water to a boil, turn down the flame to low, cover the pot, and let simmer for half an hour.
Meanwhile, chop the onion, heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet, and cook the onion with a touch of salt over medium heat until it is golden brown and soft. This will take up to half an hour. Give it a stir every so often. When they are done, deglaze the pan if you like with Marsala or sherry.
Add the caramelized onion to the soup. Put the remaining 1/2 tablespoon of oil in the pan and cook the chopped garlic for just a few minutes until it smells good. Add the garlic to the pot and simmer for 10 more minutes.
Add two cups of the broth, and puree in a blender or with an immersion blender. Add more stock if you need to thin it. Return the soup back to the pot, bring it back to a simmer, and taste. Add more salt if needed, a pinch of cayenne and a tablespoon of lemon juice. Stir well and taste again. Adjust if you see the need.
Serve topped with fresh white cheese and olive oil.

apple crisp

After six and a half years of parenting, we have finally trained the girls not to wake us up on Sunday morning. It's taken a lot of work, including some moments that I'm not entirely proud of. (for example, "Get Out! Too Early!)
I am not a good waker-upper on the days that I'm supposed to be up. Joey and the girls are often dressed and halfway through breakfast before I shuffle into the kitchen in my green Hollywood shwag robe, trying to up my speed so that I can braid hair and pour goldfish before everybody is out the door. These are not my most shining moments.
It's just that bed is so comfortable. It's quiet, and much warmer than the rest of the house at 6:30 in the morning. Second to the kitchen at the right time of day, it is my favorite place in the house.
Back to Sunday. Although I can't drag my butt out of bed on a random Tuesday morning, I seem to have very little problem doing so on Sunday. Maybe it's the extra half hour of sleep I'm getting, but I think more likely it is the illogical rebel in there. I figure that I put so much work into getting the kids not to wake me up- I hear Sadie reading some princess book to Rosie, and I'm betting I have at least another 45 minutes of peace before they stomp in demanding pancakes. But I am not sleeping. That is the rebel in me.
I am neurotically going over a to-do list in my head. I am thinking about that thing I forgot to do for work. I am realizing that I have yet to plant the garlic. I am very awake. And the bed is not so comfortable when I am very awake.
Sometimes I can fight it. Joey's sleeping self convinces me to close my eyes again, and I can at least quiet my mind. But more often, I get up and bake.
The girls are already in some morning project, and if I promise them something good, they'll give me a few moments to myself. I bake, and then I make coffee, and I get to wake Joey up like a Folger's commercial. Usually, these are the moments that I make muffins, or muffins, or muffins. But sometimes I make apple crisp, which works out for the gluten free side. And seems to make everyone else happy as well.

Apple Crisp
recipe mostly inspired by Meredith, now several years ago
(serves 4, with a bit extra to eat out of the pan mid- morning)

3 lbs apples, peeled, cored and cut into chunks
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 Tablespoon cornstarch
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon cinnamon
optional: 1 cup raisins, soaked in water for 15 minutes

1 stick unsalted butter
2 1/2 cups rolled oats
1/2 cup sesame seeds
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 Tablespoon honey

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Put the apples in a baking dish. 9x13 will work, but it can be smaller with a deeper apple layer. Toss the apples with the lemon juice, cornstarch, sugar, and cinnamon until evenly coated. Add the raisins, if using.
Melt the butter in a medium sized pot. When it's melted, take it off the heat. Add the oats, sesame seeds, coconut and honey. Mix well. Spread the mixture over the apples. Put in the middle of the oven and bake for about 45 minutes. Midway through baking, cover with aluminum foil to slow the browning of the top.
Serve hot, with maple yogurt.

beef stew

I worked at the market yesterday, and I think that thirty hours later I am just starting to thaw. It never quite got above 35 degrees, and while all the happy tourists lucked out with a sunny crisp day for looking at their precious leaves, that is just too damned cold to stand in one place for five hours handling wet salad. But it was the market, and even a frozen farmer's market is better than no market at all.
I was working with a woman yesterday who I know just a bit. She is very accomplished in the realm of some great things, but is also very easy to talk to- an excellent combination of attributes, I think. So, there we are, talking about celeriac as we wait for the eager vegetable buyers to arrive, and she says, "What would I do with celeriac?"
And you know I like these kind of questions.
"Well," I began, trying not to let my voice get high as it does when I answer recipe queries. "Any kind of soup or stew. Or roast it up. But if you really want to make it shine, it has got to be beef stew."
"Oh," she sighed. "I wish I was the kind of person who makes beef stew."

Now, I have to say that with the things this woman is creating in her life, if she is at work too late in the day to make a pot of beef stew, I forgive her entirely. In fact, I'll bring her some of mine.

But this got me thinking. For most people, there are things that we make and the things that we don't. Usually this has something to do with what our mothers made, but sometimes it's more random- a friend gave you a recipe for baked mac and cheese in college, you made it, and now you're someone who makes baked mac and cheese. So often I think that those things that you don't make have a bit of mystical allure, and they usually seem harder than they really are. (Unless the thing that you don't make is croissants, and then it really is that hard). And this might just be where the cooking rut occurs.

Oh, the joy of realizing how attainable one of those unattainable dinners really is. And before you know it, there are so many things to cook that it might even be hard to nail it down.

Are you someone who makes beef stew? Or do you think you might like to be?

We have to go back to my frozen market for a moment. I only bring you back there so that you can fully experience the chill in my bones, and so that you can know that this story really has a happy ending, and that there was left over beef stew waiting for me when I got home. A big bowl over noodles, a bitter arugula salad, and couch where I fell fast asleep until Joey and the girls came home from their Saturday capers.

A Beef Stew Formula

I know, formula? Here I am promising to make a beef stew maker out of you, and I give you a formula instead of a recipe? But beef stew is like that- what you've got in your fridge will work out for you. As long as you brown your beef, it will all be okay

(for four people plus a bit leftover, maybe)

2 lbs stew beef
1 cup flour (I have to leave this out now due to the wheat free girl, but if you can, use it)
2 Tablespoons paprika
1 Tablespoon salt
lots of fresh ground pepper
several glugs of olive oil
about 2 cups of liquid- this can be beer, red wine, beef broth, chicken broth, or in a pinch, water

then there are the vegetables... if you've got them, you'd want to start with:

2-3 carrots, peels and cut into chunks
2 ribs celery, sliced
1 large onion cut into boats (are you with me here? I'm not sure of the terms, but cut your onion in half and then into long boat shaped strips)
3 potatoes, peeled and cup into bite sized chunks

or if life is more exciting where you are:
1/2 celeriac root, peeled and cut into chunks
2 kohlrabi bulbs, peeled and cut into chunks

(if you're going for the exciting vegetables, sub them in for the potato or some portion of the potato)

And most importantly, 1 bay leaf

Other optional elements would be soy sauce, tomato paste, and cloves. (a dash of soy sauce, a few tablespoons of tomato paste, 5-7 cloves)
And of course parsley is okay if you fly that way.

So how do you put all of this together? Well, your going to need an afternoon when you're around, but doing something else. After about 1/2 hour of prep time, this stuff just cooks itself.

Beef stew is very forgiving. But this is the important part. Are you skimming this post? Okay then, I'll say it again. THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART.
You must wash, and DRY your stew meat.
You must combine your flour, paprika, salt and pepper in a bowl.
You must heat the olive oil in a large pot until it is hot.
You must dip each DRY (did I say dry?) piece of meat into the flour mixture.
You must drop it into the pot, and let it brown on all sides. This will take turning on your part. You can do several pieces at a time, but do not crowd the pan. When the meat is brown on all sides and you need space to put more meat in, take it out of the pot and put it on a plate. When you have browned all of the meat, return it to the pot.

That was the important part. If you're still with me, you're golden. Are you still with me?

I hope all of your vegetables are chopped. If not, pause for chopping.
Chopped? Okay.
Now add your liquid. Keep the heat at medium high. Bring it to a mellow boil. Scrape the brown stuff off the bottom of the pot.
Add your vegetables. The meat and vegetables should be partially submerged in liquid. Add more liquid if your instinct tells you to (yes you have instinct- you are a person who makes beef stew!)
Bring back up to a mellow boil. Add the bay leaf. Cover, lower the heat and go do something else. Check back in every so often, stirring, cooing, adding liquid, whatever.
Cook at least an hour, but maybe three- that's okay too. Taste it when it's done, flavor if there is a need.

And what do you pour this luscious thing over? I'm partial to egg noodles, but cous cous is great too. Rice will work, as will a good loaf of bread. Or you can just eat it on its own. From the pot.

garlic lemonade

I try to make it a habit to add recipes here after I've been asked for them a couple of times. Under that rule, this one is long overdue.

I know, garlic lemonade? Sounds like something you might not want?
Well, I apologize for my bluntness here, but you are wrong.
Garlic Lemonade is just about the best thing if you are sick, getting sick, or feeling paranoid about getting sick. Garlic lemonade is also very perfect if you are healthy.
This recipe was passed on to me by my very good friend Jen. Jen is a marvelous woman with very accurate and evolved taste buds, but I have to say, when she suggested it, I was taken aback.
"Jen is a garlic farmer," I said to myself, "of course she would turn the stuff into a beverage."
"Jen eats more greens than I do. Jen is a vegetarian." I continued to talk myself out of this mysterious drink.
Luckily, I tend to go against my instincts every so often.
We all know that garlic is a magical plant. It is antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal. It is an immune booster and a culinary necessity. And don't even get me started on the flowers.
So make yourself a pot of this. You'll be drinking it all day. It's good hot, good cold, and your kids will even drink it, if you add extra honey.

Garlic Lemonade

2 quarts water
8-10 garlic cloves, whole and peeled
the juice of one lemon
honey to taste (I use about 2 Tablespoons for 2 quarts)
optional: a chunk of peeled ginger

Combine the water and the garlic (and ginger, if using) in a medium pot. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat, cover and simmer for one hour. Remove from heat. Add the lemon and the honey. Enjoy. (and you will, I promise)

black bean and roasted tomatillo soup with garlic yogurt

October might just be my favorite month for cooking. The cold air drives me straight to the stove, and the garden is still spitting out more produce than I can manage. The squash are taking over, but at the same time there are those few plants that are hanging on till they are done in by the frost, insisting on producing their summery fruit to the very end.

One of these tenacious plants is the husky tomatillo. Through August and September the tomatillos are happy to be blended into tangy salsas day after day. But if you have tomatillos growing in your garden, you have experienced the October tomatillo rush. The tomatillo, in denial of the coming winter, has covered itself with perfect fruit, and the frost will inevitably move in before they can all bust out of their papery skins. What to do with all of these premature tomatillos that you have rescued from their frosty fate? It is too cold for salsa; we therefore must make soup.

Black Bean and Roasted Tomatillo Soup with Garlic Yogurt

Adapted from Alice Waters, Chez Panisse Vegetables

For the soup:

• 7 cups cooked black beans
• 10 tomatillos, husks removed
• olive oil
• salt and pepper
• ½ hot pepper
• 6 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1 ½ onions, diced
• 2 Tablespoons miso

For the yogurt:

• 1 cup plain whole milk yogurt
• 1 clove raw garlic, finely minced or pressed
• a squeeze of fresh lemon
• a pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the tomatillos into quarters, and toss lightly with salt and pepper. Place in a heavy bottomed, ovenproof dish just big enough to hold them in a single layer, and roast for fifteen minutes in the oven, until they are soft.

While they are roasting, slice the onions very thin. Cook them with olive oil in a large soup pot, seasoning with salt and pepper. When they are soft, add 5 cups of the beans (reserving the other two cups of beans) and about two cups of water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, covered.

Wrap the garlic and hot pepper in a piece of cheesecloth. Tie it closed, and drop the sack into the pot of beans. Cover and let cook on a low heat, stirring often, for 20-30 minutes.

Remove the cheesecloth. When the tomatillos are roasted, put them into a blender or food processor and puree. Add the puree to the soup.

Put the miso into a small bowl and combine it with a cup of the soup. Stir until the miso is dissolved. Add the mixture to the soup. Then with a blender or an immersion blender, puree the soup. After it is fairly smooth, add the remaining two cups of beans.

Add salt and pepper to taste.

Combine all yogurt ingredients with a whisk. Serve soup topped with yogurt.

pho

Yeehaw. It's that time again, when Alana makes a mess making something that she never dared to do before!

Pho! Or more accurately, Pho?

There's not much pho to be had around here, but every time we go to Denver, there's a whole lot of talk of the famous Vietnamese noodle soup. That said, I only went to a pho restaurant once, and unfortunately I was six weeks pregnant and had watermelon juice for lunch.
That's not to say that I wasn't interested. A deeply flavorful broth, rice noodles, meat, and a pile of fresh green herbs- only early pregnancy could keep me from that bowl of heaven.
And now, in the true spirit of the DIY revolution, I have made pho right here in my little kitchen.

And I had a pretty good time of it all in all. The best part? Well, as I've said before, I've been working on my chicken cutting skills so that I continue to attempt to call myself a real cook. And I'm getting pretty good at it. But for this? Take your cleaver and hack away. Kind of brutish, but Jaden asked that we expose as much bone as possible for a flavorful broth. No problem.

The October 2009 Daring Cooks’ challenge was brought to us by Jaden of the blog Steamy Kitchen. The recipes are from her new cookbook, The Steamy Kitchen Cookbook.

I'd say you should go for this one too. And your kitchen will smell holy if you worship in the house of food as I do. Charred onion and ginger, toasting spices; unbelievable. It all smells almost as good as it tastes. Go right over to Jaden's site for the recipe. I followed it pretty closely, except I must admit that I added a touch of salt. And of course, NO CILANTRO. I know that this is leaving out a fundamental ingredient, but NO! Stay back with your foul herb! I put lots if basil in instead, and that was lovely. But if you choose to go for the cilantro, I understand.

And go check out all those who dared to make pho!