Easter Egg Stupor

When I was a child, my family spent many Easters in London. It was a quick hop away from where we were living in Germany, and we would rent a flat from my father's cousin's ex-husband's sister. Seriously.

I loved these trips and looked forward to them tremendously. The atmosphere, the shows, the people, but mostly, the Easter eggs.

There is nothing quite like Easter in England. When I booked a trip to England last month, my first thought was, "Yay, family! (of course;)", but quick on its heels, I thought, "OMG, the EASTER EGGS!!"

I present Exhibit A:


No, your eyes don't deceive you. Those are indeed Easter eggs as far as the eye can see. Sigh.

And Exhibit B:


Yes, that box of chocolate is bigger than my head.

Honestly eggs stretching off into the horizon are practically NSFW for the dreamy stupor it induces in me. I can't think in the face of such confectionery paradise.

Why oh why has this kind of chocolatey madness never made it over here? I know that fancy shops like Lindt and Godiva and Vosges and Jacques Torres and Bissingers go bananas at Easter with solid chicks and Easter baskets and egg-shaped truffles, but I never feel the same about those fancy gourmet confections as I did about good old enormous chocolate eggs filled with Smarties or Maltesers or Crunchies or Buttons.

Just as well I had a chance to stock up this year.

Are You a Cook or a Baker?

And what does it say about you?
I am reading The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister, which I found out about here, and the following words spoken by the restaurateur and cooking teacher protagonist, Lillian, got me thinking:

"Now, cooking is all about preference--add a bit more of this or that until you reach the taste you want. Baking, however, is different. You need to make sure you have certain combinations correct."

I think we could do away with all of these complicated personality tests, like the Myers-Briggs, and simply ask people whether they prefer to cook or to bake. The spontaneity of cooks versus the precision of bakers...or a combination thereof.

The fact that I like to cook and bake perfectly illustrates who I am.

I can be all over the place, disorganized, impetuous, with no idea what day it is or even what season it is. That is the side of me that puts everything but the kitchen sink into my chilis or curries - jalapenos, corn, peas, zucchini, raisins, peanuts, sweet potatoes, onions, garlic, ginger, tomatoes, pepper flakes, paprika, turkey, beef, black beans...

The side of me that likes all of the clocks to be perfectly synchronized, that knows the Sunday paper is late if it's after 7:30 in the morning, that knows if an unusual word has already been used in a novel and is irritated when it makes a second appearance, feels tremendous satisfaction leveling the flour with the edge of a knife, or whipping eggs into peaks, melting butter and chocolate together and letting it cool before adding it to the rest of the batter so that the hot chocolate doesn't accidentally cook the eggs.

I would say I'm 32.7% baker and the rest, cook.

How about you?

Waffcakes

My friend gave me this pan for Christmas. I was mystified. What was I going to do with a pan that only had one use? And what exactly is that one use? Pancake-waffles, or pancaffles, wafflycakes, or simply cankles.


After making the buttermilk waffly-pancake recipe that came with it, though, I was a convert. And now consider this to be the perfect gift. Because I really really would never have bought this for myself, but now I'm delighted. And addicted.

Pork and Apples and...Lemon?

I hear time and time again that one of the most basic rules of cooking is to read a recipe all the way through before you do anything.

I was making a pub-grub recipe from a recent issue of Grazia, and did indeed read the recipe entirely, confirming that I had all the ingredients. That's all you need to think about, right? Whether you have everything? Not whether they make any sense together...

So off I went!!

I browned the pork in the skillet.


Fried up the onions and ham.


Added the apples, garlic, sage, and...


Lemon zest. As I was zesting the lemon over the stove, I thought, "Gosh, what a strange combination. But I haven't tried it before, so perhaps it is wonderful."

What I learned was this:

Lemon + Sage = yum
Apples + Pork = yum
Sage + Garlic = probably yum
Apples + Garlic = not so sure
Lemon Zest + Apples + Garlic + Sage = yuck


Oh well. Lesson learned. Above image is right before it went into the oven for 20 minutes to soften the apples and brown the pork. It was an attractive dish, and cooking the pork like that worked nicely, so it's worth trying again with a different iteration.

Shabu Shabu

Our electric fondue pot doubles as a shabu shabu pot!

It looks murky (!) but that is 6 delicious cups of chicken bouillon with ginger and scallion.

To dip, we have bok choi,

broccoli, water chestnuts,

and thin slices of sirloin steak which we swished around
in the broth to cook, then dipped in soy sauce and sriracha.

It was a fabulous experiment. I can't wait to do it again.

Saving the Galette

In the spirit of "cooking and learning as I go," it was high time that I make my first ever pastry from scratch. I have managed all these years without trying this basic skill because Pillsbury makes a pretty darn good unroll-and-go refrigerated pastry. So quiches and pies have been a doddle.

But as with many of the basics, you're not worth your salt as a cook (including modest home cooks like moi) unless you know how to make pastry.

Nigella has a great introductory description in Domestic Goddess about quantities of fat to flour to water. But for a straight forward starter recipe with lots of step-by-step pictures, I turned to my new friend, Martha's Cooking School, which I knew I would be discussing again.

I made the basic butter pastry recipe, and immediately made the suggested beginner's pie, something that I now think to be one of the loveliest things one can do with pastry, a galette. This loosey-goosey rustic freeform pie was a perfect fit for how I really like to do things in the kitchen - very little fuss (if you don't make mistakes...) with a beautiful and delicious outcome.

Basically, roll out your pastry into a huge, thin circle, plop some fruit (in this case, totally unripe "ripe" plums- I don't know why I keep buying them), sugar, and thickener in the middle, fold up the sides over the edge of the fruit so that you make a smaller circle. Then put a shine-maker on the edges (she says egg and cream wash, but either one by itself works, so I just slathered on some cream as I was getting dangerously low on eggs). I also added demerera sugar.

In my case, though, I was in a bit of a rush, so I forgot the thickener (corn starch or flour) until the pie was well on its way in the oven.

Eeks! I completely panicked, pulled it out, and threw some flour on top.

When I checked again later, the flour had not mixed in at all. In fact, it was going all brown and staying powdery on top. The pastry was baking nicely, but the fruit mixture doing absolutely nothing. It wasn't going purple, it wasn't bubbling, or thickening.

This was going to be a disaster. I started attacking the topping with the flat end of a spatula, and the fruit crumbled easily. Phew. The fruit had cooked although it hadn't disintegrated yet. By mashing it with the spatula, I aided its goopiness and was able to mix the flour in. I then tasted the mixture, piled on more sugar, jumbled the brown flour into the fruit, and kept baking, fingers crossed.

One hour and forty five minutes later, this is what transpired:

Disaster fruitily averted.

A Winter Staple: Macaroni and Cheese

Top 5 Signs that (in Boston, at least) it is still Deep Winter:

5. The birds are still standing on, and not swimming in, the Charles River.

4. The ground is hard, unyielding, grey.

3. My every step outside crunches, walking on scattered rock salt, grit, sand for traction on the ice.

2. The only way I can stay warm is to wear the following layers from the inside out: wool, fleece, fleece, wool. With cashmere wrapped around my neck and head to cut down on the immense bulk.

For many of you, winter may already be lifting up its white skirts and dancing off until November. I was recently in England and was truly replenished by the sight of the crocuses opening up their sweet purple buds:


By contrast, here is the site of our recent Sunday constitutional at Walden Pond:



I know it's beautiful. Transcendental, even.

But when the lengthening days don't bring with them an increase in temperature or a decrease in wintry precipitation, you start to wish you had burrowed into a warm hillside and gone to sleep back in October until the snows melt in April. With one delicious exception.

Which brings me to my top sign that it is still winter:

1. All I want to eat is pasta. Pasta with cream and butter. Pasta with tomatoes and bacon and sausage and eggplant.

Pasta with gobs and gobs of melted cheese.

Macaroni Au Four

As it's quite sinful, I try not to make macaroni and cheese au four too often. But I am delighted to find an excuse when I am faced with an array of cheese heels languishing in the fridge:


There is very little to do with them but to melt them down into one big gooey mess.

Yippee!!

Chop the mélange of cheeses into little pieces:


Begin to make a roux in a saucepan with butter / oil, and a "grab" of flour (bigger than a pinch, but still measured approximately as I stick my fingers in the bag of flour and just grab some). Once it thickens, add chicken stock, cream, and all of the chopped up cheese into the saucepan and stir constantly on low-medium heat until the cheese has melted.

I have not included specific measurements because it all depends on how soupy vs. how thick you like your macaroni and cheese. I probably used about 1 1/2 cups of stock topped up with the cream and all of the cheese. You can't really go wrong as long as the sauce is salty enough.

Cook pasta shape of your choice until very al dente, as it will continue to cook in the oven.

I made this last batch with broccoli, so steam broccoli florets (peas, cauliflower, etc.) in the microwave for a few minutes until bright green while the pasta is cooking.

Butter the bottom of the baking dish, and then pile in pasta, sauce, veggies, in layers. If there is not enough sauce to come close to the top of the baking dish, heat up a bit more chicken stock and cream and throw it in.

Top with grated cheese, pepper, and breadcrumbs.

Bake in 400° degree oven until brown and crispy, about 20 minutes.