Showing posts with label bake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bake. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Grandma's Recipes - Sunday Sauce and Peach Torte

My maternal grandmother was a tiny little spitfire of a woman.  Standing only 4' 8" tall, she had a burst of red hair and cat eye shaped glasses, that were pointy at the outer corners.  In stark contrast, my paternal grandmother was tall and broad through the hips, with a size 10 foot that was wider than the average shoe.  As a child, I remember seeing odd looking wood stretchers sitting in her shoes at night. She told me that she used those to help break in her shoes and make them more flexible and comfortable.  Being gifted with my own size 11 feet, I now understand that she simply did that to make her shoes fit her out sized feet.

In further contrast, my grandmothers were radically different in personality.  My paternal grandmother or "Nan" as we called her (short for nanny) was a gentle soul.  Her skin was always softly perfumed, as if freshly dusted by one of the powder puffs that sat on her dresser.  Always dressed to the nines in a dress, jewelry and a heeled shoe, she carried herself with a grace that belied her modest lifestyle as the wife of a mechanic and mother to five children.  Later in life, I came to learn that she had been pregnant nine times, only five of those pregnancies carried to term.

My maternal grandmother was a trust fund baby.  The daughter of a lawyer, her mother had died in the flu outbreak of 1918 in New York City.  This left my grandmother to be taken care of by a series of aunts and relatives while my great grandfather worked.  When she married my grandfather, it was her trust fund that purchased their house in the tony neighborhood of Garden City, with the reason for moving there, "the Parish" or church that was part of the larger Rockville Center Diocese. She ruled her house with  with equal parts love and authority.  She never felt small to me, as her personality, fiery red hair and generous smile made her seem larger than life.

These two ladies both died early in my life; my grandma when I was four and my nan when I was twelve.  This makes me extraordinarily grateful that my own children (both out of their teens), have my mom in their life.  Sadly, their grandma on their dad's side, passed away in 2012.

My grandmothers were both instrumental in my love for food and cooking, each being an anchor in my early memories of family dinners and contributors to my personal play list of favorite foods.

This Mother's Day, we honor all the moms and grandmothers, past and present that have graced our lives, built our families and stocked our memories with rich, happy nostalgia.  Here are two recipes from a family cookbook that I wrote last year.  The purpose of the book was to hold on to the strong food traditions that are part of my blended family.  These recipes are humble and delicious and are foundational to who I am as a cook and a mother.

With love...

Sunday Sauce with Meatballs and Sausage 


Serves 8 to 10

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sausage:
1 ½ pounds sweet Italian sausage, about 6 links (or a mix of hot and sweet)
1 tablespoon olive oil
Sprinkle of salt
Sprinkle of pepper
Sprinkle of Italian seasoning

Meatballs: (makes about 16)
4 slices of white or wheat bread, crusts removed
1/3 cup whole milk
2 pounds ground beef (80/20 is best)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning blend
2/3 cup Pecorino Romano Cheese
2 large cloves garlic, minced finely
3 tablespoons flat leaf Italian Parsley, chopped finely
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
4 tablespoons olive oil


Sauce:
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 cup red onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped finely
2 29 ounce cans tomato puree (I use Redpack brand)
1 28 ounce can crushed tomatoes (Redpack)
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
1 teaspoon sugar (*optional, see footnote)
1 dried bay leaf
2 teaspoons Italian seasoning blend
1 sprig of fresh basil (a stalk with approximately 6 – 8 leaves)
3 tablespoons flat leaf Italian parsley, chopped finely
3-4 basil leaves, chopped (these get added at the last 20 minutes of cooking)


Put the Sausages in a pie plate or small roasting pan and drizzle with olive oil, salt, pepper and Italian Seasoning. Put them in the oven for 25-30 minutes to brown while you make and brown the meatballs.  You could cook them on the stove top after browning the balls, but I find that this step saves time and produces a nice result.

In a small bowl, soak the bread in the milk.  Squeeze it with your hands to make a paste.  If there is a lot of excess milk when you squeeze the bread, you can dump it out.  The goal is to just moisten the bread.

Add the beef, eggs, Italian Seasoning, Pecorino Romano, Garlic, Parsley, Salt and Pepper to a large bowl.  Add in the bread and milk mix.  Mix well with your hands, being careful not to overwork the mix.  You want to get it just blended.  Set aside.

Add the olive oil to a large, heavy bottomed pot and heat on medium until it just starts to shimmer.  Brown the meatballs in the olive oil on all sides, being careful not to over-crowd the pan (you want an inch of space between each ball, so work in batches if needed).  Once the meatballs are browned on all sides, remove them to a plate lined with a paper towel.  Lower the heat to medium low.

Open all your cans of tomatoes and set aside. You want these at the ready, so that you can add them immediately after the garlic sautés. This will prevent you from burning the finely minced garlic.

Add the onion to the olive oil and meatball drippings at the bottom of the sauce pan. Sauté for a few minutes until the onion starts to get translucent.  Add the garlic and sauté for 30 seconds.  You want to release the aroma from the garlic, not brown or (heaven forbid) burn it.  As soon as the garlic smell hits your nostrils, turn up the heat to med-high and immediately dump the first can of puree into the pot.  Cook and scrape the bottom of the pan to pull up the crusted meat bits and incorporate into the sauce.  Lower the heat to medium low and add the other 2 cans of tomato product.

Stir to incorporate and make sure that the sauce is at a very low, ploppy simmer.  Adjust your temperature if needed.  Add the salt, black pepper, red pepper, sugar, bay leaf, Italian Seasoning and stir to combine.  Take the stalk of basil and lay the leaves across your palm. Smack the basil in your palm with your free hand (smack it like it owes you money) and throw it in the pot.  This releases the oils of the basil and gets out any pent up frustrations.  Stir it in.

Add the browned meatballs and sausages to the pot and stir gently to submerge all meat.
Cook covered, on low heat, at a slow, ploppy simmer for 2-4 hours. The more you cook it, the better it gets.  Check it every hour or so and give a gentle stir, making sure that the bottom is not burning.  Taste for seasoning and adjust as needed.

Twenty minutes before you are ready to serve, fish out the basil stalk and add the chopped parsley and remaining fresh chopped basil.   Continue cooking until ready to serve.


Hungarian Peach Torte


Serves 6 to 8

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Crust:
1 ¼ cups flour
1/3 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, cold and cut into cubes
½ teaspoon lemon zest, grated
1 egg yolk (set the white aside for the filling)

Filling:
6 medium peaches, peeled and sliced thinly
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg white, beaten stiff


Sift flour, sugar and salt into a mixing bowl.  Add butter to bowl.  Using two knives or a pastry blender cut the butter into the dry ingredients.  Add the lemon rind and egg yolk and work in with fingers until the mixture comes together and is dough-like.
Press the dough into the bottom of a buttered 8 or 9” spring form pan. Press it up the sides by an inch to form a lip around the crust. Set aside.

Friday, April 19, 2019

Poppin Off About Cake Pops

When cake pops first started to be a thing, I remember thinking that they were cute but underwhelming.   If you read my post about chocolate chip cookies (here), then you will know that I like my desserts like I like my men...big and rich (well, not really true about the men, but defintiely true about the cookies.  Anywho...)    Why on earth would I want to eat a tablespoon of cake, covered in waxy white chocolate?  The concept was unappealing from every angle.

Then, a couple of weeks back, I was out to lunch, running errands and I got a hankerin for a cup of coffee.  I stopped in to a Starbucks near my office and while waiting on line, had a crazy yen for something sweet.  I peered into the display case and in the bottom righthand corner, I spotted a white cakepop with yellow stripes.  The color alone was springy and eyecatching and when I read the label, I knew I had to have it.  It was a Lemon Cake Pop.  I felt like this might be a little better than your average cake pop and might taste less like a crayon than other cake pops that I had tried in the past.

After waiting an inordinate amount of time for the shit-show trio of baristas behind the counter to take care of the one person in front of me,  I stepped up and ordered an iced latte and a lemon cake pop.  Filled with anticipation for my treat, I waited patiently while the twelve year old serving me searched for the cake pop intermittently between gossiping with his co-worker.  Really Sparky, if you can't wait until break time to shit-talk your coworker, then perhaps you should start a YouTube drama channel and leave the service industry in your barely post-pubescent wake.  Finally, after fiddling, futzing and spilling the tea to his friend, he emerged to tell me that they didn't have anymore lemon cake pops.  Damn it!  Here I was, ready to open my heart to a cake pop and there were none left.  My youthful server tilted his head and a lock of pomaded hair fell in front of his eye.  He flipped it back with a toss, looked toward the ceiling and with an empty, Bieber-esque gaze said, "we only have the birthday cake pop".

At this point, I was on the verge of returning back to work late, so I hastily agreed to the birthday cake pop, knowing full well that I was going to hate it more than I hate brussel sprouts. I grabbed my coffee and pop and sprinted out the door to my car.  I pulled the pink coated pop from the bag that the Beibs dropped it into and I examined it closely before taking a bite.  It was a pretty, soft pink hue and sprayed with a light smattering of white non-pariells and though not as Spring-like as the lemon cake pop, it did give me some seasonal feels.

I hastily snuck a bite of the pop and I swear my eyes pinballed around in my head.  It was delicious.  The coating did not taste like it was straight out of the Crayola 64 box and the center, while sweet, was not unbearably so. I held up from pulling out of the parking spot to allow myself the additional two bites that it took to finish the cake pop. If not for the confines of my dreaded nine to five, I would have run back in and purchased two more, but I was late and needed to get on the move.

Today is  April 19th (actually the 20th since it's 2 AM EST) and I am typing this with splotches of hot pink dyed white chocolate spread across my face like some kind of twisted, Willy Wonka acne and a completed display of cake pops, poised and ready for Easter lunch.  Ok, so I made the pops in a state of inebriation brought on by Sangria, Rioja and Brunello (don't judge. Like you've never drunk baked).  And, they are not the most symetrical of pops, but damn if they aren't tasty and double damn if they aren't hella cute.  See for yourself:



Best wishes for a festive holiday weekend!





Thursday, April 11, 2019

The Quaker Oats Guy Can Bite Me

Filed under: No good deed goes unpunished...

Two weeks ago I got an e-mail about a corporate fund raiser event.  The company I work for has an admirable track record for supporting worthy causes and there is always a run or a walk or a gift basket raffle that you can participate in and/or donate to.  Me?  I'm more often a donor rather than a runner because,  sweating next to your co-workers? Ew.  But this particular email looked like something that I could actually contribute to in more than just a financial capacity.  The company was holding a bake sale!  Now we're talking!

Immediately I looked away from my work and began imagining what grandiose delights I could whip up for public consumption.  Pinterest and Instagram were being flooded with pastel colored goodies for Easter and Spring and there were more rainbow sprinkles and glitter than a dressing room at DragCon.  Besotted with more ideas than I could ever execute, I tucked a few favorite ideas away and decided that I would choose my treat closer to the day of the sale.

Fast-forward to shopping day on the weekend before the sale and my thoughts turned back to the my potential baked good.  As I started to imagine how I would bake and package some of the treats in the little black baking book in my head, the sexier options started to fall away. The treat needed to be sturdy, single serving, easy to transport (anything with icing was out) and it needed to have mass appeal.  The goal here was to raise money for charity, not to bake a hazelnut dacquoise masterpiece, dusted with icing sugar and garnished with a brown butter coconut tuille (which hello, you had me at brown butter).  So what did I decide on? A chocolate chip cookie. I know, I know not interesting and there would be so many at the sale that they could potentially go un-touched.  Nevertheless, I remained un-deterred and thought about how I might differentiate.

I know that when I reach for a chocolate chip cookie, I have certain criteria.  First off, I like a cookie that's the size of a dinner plate.  If it doesn't look like I am biting into a planet, then why bother?  The cookie needs to be brown around the edges and bottom and soft (but not raw) in the middle and the taste of the butter and chocolate need to make my knees buckle.  That is the cookie that I set out to make; big, brown, buttery and dripping with rich chocolate.

The packaging needed consideration as well, because these people would be porting treats back to their desks and that thought of an exposed cookie sitting on a napkin set my germophobia alight to the tune of a five alarm blaze.  I had purchased beautiful glassine bags at the Paper Source a while back, anticipating just such an occasion and decided that I would put them into play.  I purchased gold stickers and a teal colored Sharpie to write on them and had my packaging all set. Simple, chic and most of all, hygienic.

This morning, I awoke with the intent of organizing my bagged and tagged cookies for transport and display.  Because my dog is a 70 lb behemoth with 3 foot long legs (no lie, they are as long as baseball bats), I had constructed a wall of boxes and cartons to block him from getting at the cookies that were laid out on the counter.  I began  to pack all the boxes of mac and cheese and tall cartons of chicken stock back into my pantry.  The last item I picked up was a carton of steel cut oats, you know the kind with the Barbara Bush look-alike wearing a Boy George hat?  Well, I guess I did not grab it carefully and the top came off and the oats went FLYING. I emphasize the word "flying" because they had to have wings to have reached the distant places in my kitchen and den that they landed.  I now know the true definition of "far and wide".  I spent 30 minutes vacuuming and moving furniture to get all the little oats that were clearly poised and ready for this jailbreak.

Luckily, the little oat accident did not impact my cookies and they made it to the bake sale and sold briskly, which is what is really important.  Not the fact that I trashed my kitchen or the fact that I went with a basic cookie.  But really, f#@k a steel cut oat.