Monthly Archives: October 2011

white chocolate cranberry cookies

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When I was at Carolina, we spent a lot of our time in the GMP. GMP, short for Grand Market Place, pronounced gimp. I feel like I could dedicate a whole week to USC/Russell House inspired posts. Chicken Finger Wednesdays. Fried chicken and mac + cheese Fridays. Grits and biscuit early kick-off Saturday mornings. The GMP had horrible/amazing music (you know, the old Britney Spears you hate, but secretly love singing), hit or miss food, and a little bit of every type of person. The collegiate watering hole.

One thing I remember loving was their cookies. They had the norms, you know, chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin. But then they had this special cookie, a white chocolate cranberry cookie. All year round. I loved it. We were like cookie monsters up in there. They had a slight crunch on the outside and a chewy, soft center. The perfect cookie, really. Now, I have no idea what was in those. I have no idea whether or not they actually made the batter. They were probably filled with shortening and diesel fuel. So, this is what we’re gonna do. We are going to make that cookie with yummy, natural ingredients. And every bite will be filled with Gamecock goodness.

white chocolate cranberry cookies
ingredients
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup natural cane sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar (made with natural cane sugar), packed
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 cups white chocolate chips
1 cup dried cranberries

create
Preheat oven to 375º. Using a mixer, beat butter, sugar, brown sugar, vanilla, and salt together until well combined. Add eggs and beat well. Stir the flour and baking soda together and gradually add it to the butter mixture. Beat until well combined. Stir in the white chocolate chips and cranberries. On a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, drop tablespoonfuls of batter a couple of inches apart and bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until the middle is set and the edges are golden. Allow to cool slightly before transferring to a cooling rack, a platter, or your mouth. This recipe will make around three dozen cookies, depending on how large or small you make them.

These cookies are neat because every once in a while, you’ll get a pretty tart cranberry and your mind says, “Okay. Halt. Sour.”, but then your thought is interrupted with the buttery sweetness of the white chocolate. It’s a wonderful combination.

Russell House, this cookie post is dedicated to you. Thank you for hosting me for so many doggone tired, hungry hours and for dealing with my friends and me laughing at ridiculous things while we ate turkey wraps, vegetarian chili (cheaper, eh?), and, of course, cookies.

dried cranberries

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Autumn in South Carolina is a little bit of a tease. And also a bit humorous. As soon as the temperature drops below 70 degrees, people find it necessary to pull out the coats and big socks. Hey, I’m not doggin’ ya. I’m just as guilty. Last night, the husband and I slept with five blankets and a puppy. With the radiator on. And fleece pants. And wool socks. And I love it. Even if SC is teasing us with little spurts of cold, I’m okay with that. I can be patient. And I’ll continue wearing my scarves and boots in 65 degree weather.

So! Since it’s getting cooler (eh, here and there), I like to think of foods that remind me of this glorious time of year. Heck, I think of those foods all year long. My friends make fun of me because I have Andy Williams’ “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” on my running playlist. It’s a good song, people.

Off topic.

I really like cranberries. No, not the kind shaped like a can. I like their tartness, the tiny bit of sweetness you have to search for, and their beautiful color. And they fall perfectly into this time of cooler weather and holiday menu planning! Dried cranberries are great because you can throw them into lots of recipes for a little pucker and raisin-like chewiness. Now, please don’t hate me. The process of drying cranberries (without a dehydrator) is a little time consuming. It requires very little hands-on work, but drying fruits takes time. It’s worth it. You know your result is fresh and you know what ingredients are in it. No guessing!

dried cranberries
ingredients
12 oz fresh cranberries
2 quarts boiling water
1 tbsp natural cane sugar (optional)

create
Preheat oven to 170º. Gently rinse the cranberries and place in a heat-proof bowl or saucepan (this bowl is not over heat). Pour the boiling water over the cranberries. Let the cranberries sit until their skins pop. Some of my cranberry skins popped instantly, but some took a little longer. It should altogether only take a few minutes. You can see that the skins almost look split down the middle.

Drain the water and toss with the sugar. You can certainly leave the sugar out if you’d like. Lay the cranberries in a single layer on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Place in the oven and leave them there for at least 8 hours.

I’m going to be honest. I dried my cranberries in shifts. If you’re brave enough to leave your oven on all night, an overnight drying should do the trick. I tried to dry mine on my day off so I could be awake and available (not that you have to do anything to them while they’re in the oven, but, you know, safety and junk). Of course, I realized there were things I had to do, so I ended up drying mine at random times of the day and and at different intervals each time. Not the best method, but it worked. You can store them frozen to last longer and they don’t need to be thawed before baking or cooking with them.

Mmm.

I love you, Autumn.

And I love you, SC. Thank you for busting your pride a little bit and bending over to the cool nights and having to see your natives carve pumpkins and wear sweatshirts with palmetto trees on them. I’m sure you’ll get us back next summer.

rocco’s pesto genovese

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The first time I remember having pesto was at this fabulous place in Little Italy in NYC. I don’t think I knew what I was ordering, but basil and pine nuts didn’t sound repulsing, so I trusted the menu (c’mon. I was 19 and just realizing that I enjoyed food and didn’t have to simply ingest it). When the penne arrived lightly tossed in, not really a sauce, but more of a crushed combination of simple ingredients, I remember being hit with the smell of fresh basil and garlic. It was so delicate, yet so chock-full of flavor at the same time. Rather than being mushed together to paste-like consistency, it was prepared in a way where you could almost taste each ingredient separately. There’s the parmesan. There’s the olive oil. There’s the garlic. It was addicting.

The husband and I were watching the Cooking Channel several weeks ago when David Rocco’s Dolce Vita was on. First of all, can I just say how I love that he walks around outside and makes things on random benches and tree stumps? A little unrealistic for me right now, but it’s still beautiful. Also a little unrealistic for me right now: that I can pronounce Genovese. Big whoop. I pretend I’m saying it right by giving it a little Italian accent. But that doesn’t matter. The word Genovese comes from a city in Italy called Genoa, which is where pesto originated. And David Rocco creates this pesto with its tradition in mind. I will never use a food processor to make pesto again. He hand chops each ingredient, leaving a rustic, chunky, flavorful accompaniment to pasta, etc. This pesto reminds me of my NYC pasta (and, oh my, how that’s a good thing).

rocco’s pesto genovese
ingredients
bunch fresh basil leaves, rinsed and dried
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 cup pine nuts, crushed
1/2 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese
generous pinch of salt
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

create
Using a sharp knife, finely chop basil, garlic, and nuts (pine nuts are traditional, but you really can use any type of nut and make a great pesto) on a cutting board. Put chopped ingredients in a jar. Add the parmigiano cheese, salt, and 1/2 cup olive oil and mix well. Top it off with the remaining extra-virgin olive oil. Taste and adjust it to your liking.
Pesto is traditionally served with pasta, bruschetta, or fish.

So, people, put down the food processors and get to choppin’. It really is easier (the husband will have less dishes to wash, heh…) and makes for a much simpler, more traditional Italian pesto. Thank you, Little Italy chef in NYC, thank you, David Rocco, and thank you, Italians for sticking to what you know and doing it beautifully and timelessly.

(deep) fried okra

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Hurry! Hurry! Okra in South Carolina is almost out of season! Go gather it up from the little shack on the corner or from the farmer’s market or from your own garden (props to you, if so, and take a bow) because it’s gonna be skedaddlin’ out of here pretty soon and won’t be back until next year!

Picture me stepping down from my little soap box on the street corner.

Okay, I’m telling you this a little late. So hold me down and stab me with okra pricklies and rub okra slime in my hair. I’m okay with that. Okra likes hot temperatures, so it tends to fade out of South Carolina around October…ish. Not a big deal. It doesn’t take long to slice and fry some up. Actually, real traditional Southern fried okra isn’t deep fried at all. It’s just tossed in a little cornmeal and pan-fried with salt and pepper, a contribution from Africa in the 1700s. It’s delicious that way and it’s delicious deep fried.

(deep) fried okra
ingredients
5 cups oil (something mild, like peanut), for frying
1/4 cup cornmeal
1/2 cup unbleached flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp cayenne pepper (you may use more or less)
1 lb fresh okra, sliced into 1/2 inch pieces
1/2 cup buttermilk

create
Heat the oil in a large skillet (cast iron is preferred; it has excellent heat distribution) or Dutch oven to 350 degrees (hot, but not smoking). Fill the pan, at most, half way up the side with oil. You may end up using more or less than five cups.
Combine the cornmeal, flour, salt, black pepper, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper in a bowl. Dip the sliced okra in the buttermilk and then dredge in the flour mixture until well coated. I usually add one of the slices to the oil to test the temperature. If the oil sizzles up around the okra and you can hear it, it’s probably ready. If the oil isn’t hot enough, the okra will just sit there.
You may need to cook the okra in batches as to not overcrowd the pan. Shoving everything in there at once causes the oil’s temperature to drop, resulting in okra that chills out and soaks up the oil, AKA soggy and not crunchy. This recipe will feed about four people (depending on where your friends are from, wink) and you can easily double it. Or triple it. Or quadruple it.
Cook the okra until golden brown. It doesn’t take long, so just keep your eyes on the okree! Remove the slices from the oil onto paper towels and serve immediately.
(Eating freshly cooked okra is like getting pizza mouth [please, go to 7:40]. You KNOW it’s hot. You KNOW it’s going to burn. But, heck, you grab ‘em and pop ‘em anyway, and it is perfectly acceptable. That beautiful deliciousness just can’t wait.)

Okay! So, South Carolina is sputtering out its last breaths of air for okra (sigh, sigh, cry, cry), so if you are a summer person, cook ‘em up now to get your last fix before the chilly months settle in! If you are a winter person (like me, yes!), have no fear. We are getting some good stuff, too. Root veggies, anyone?

mama’s birthday cake

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I have two really great grandmothers. But they’re not actually grandmothers. I have a MaMa and I have a Gowie. Those are very different from regular grandmothers. And no one else has a MaMa and no one else has a Gowie (except my twin sister, I guess). MaMa introduced me to jacuzzis with dish soap (the bubbles practically reach the ceiling this way), allowed me to climb on the roof to eat pizza, and taught me that the only way to properly camp was in a tent. Gowie always made sure I had clean Lion King sheets, was completely supportive in our creation of the Leafy Club in her big Magnolia tree in the front yard, and gave me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received: a vintage Kitchenaid stand mixer.

The day she gave it to me, I rode it home (yes, of course it was buckled in. duh.) and jumped up and down around it for about three hours. It probably looked at me and thought, “Stupid human.” I polished it up and didn’t use it for several days just so I could see it shine on my counter. I use it all the time now and it works beautifully.


MaMa’s birthday was this past week and I love birthdays. I grew up in a family where we celebrate every person’s birthday, every year. My friends in college would always say, “You’re going to another birthday party?” I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of getting together after church, singing the traditional song, and passing around cards with pictures of dogs with big teeth wearing party hats. I decided that I wanted to make a special cake for MaMa and love any opportunity to use Gowie’s stand mixer.

The recipe for the cake I wanted to use is from Ina Garten. As much as the Husband and I imitate her, I trust every recipe she creates. She’s just good (heh, Ina fan humor…) and there’s a tiny part of me that wants to be her. La tee dah, walk into my garden to gather tulips and herbs for the table, ho hum, perfectly plate any dish with my endless supply of beautiful platters, doo de doo, go into my pantry (that’s the size of my current house) to shelves lined with Pellegrino and Espuny.


lemon cake
ingredients
2 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature
2 cups natural cane sugar
4 large eggs at room temperature
1/3 cup grated lemon zest (about 6 to 8 lemons)
3 cups unbleached flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup buttermilk at room temperature
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

create
Preheat the oven to 350º. Ina’s recipe uses loaf pans, but I needed three, smaller rounds for the layer cake. I don’t own small cake pans, so I just baked the cake in a 13×9 pan and used a bowl to trace three circles in the cake sheet. Butter and flour whichever pan you choose to use.
Cream the butter and sugar together (in a mixer!) using the paddle attachment until light and fluffy like a cloud, about five minutes. With the mixer on medium speed, add the eggs one at a time. Add the lemon zest.
Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, combine the lemon juice, buttermilk, and vanilla. Add the flour and buttermilk mixture alternately to the sugar mixture, beginning and ending with the flour. Add the batter to the pan, smooth the top, and bake about 45 minutes, or until a tester returns clean.

Ina’s recipe calls for a lemon glaze (which would totally be delicious and if you’re making a loaf, the glaze would be ideal), but I needed something that would hold my cake layers together. Buttercream, you are it! I also knew that I wanted a little yellow accent on the cake, but I try to never consume artificial colors. Per an employee’s advice at EarthFare (bless you), I experimented with turmeric. I added a teensy, teensy bit at a time and probably ended up using about 1/4 teaspoon to about 1/2 cup of buttercream. Just add a little at a time and keep tasting it to make sure it’s the color and taste you’re looking for (after all, turmeric is a spice).


lemon cream cheese buttercream
ingredients
8 oz cream cheese at room temperature
1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1 pound natural confectioners’ sugar
1/2 tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice

create
Beat cream cheese and butter in a mixer, using the paddle attachment, until creamy, about 30 seconds. With the mixer on low, slowly add the sugar, scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary. Add the lemon juice and increase the mixer speed to medium. Beat until fluffy, about one minute.
To make the accent color, use about 1/2 cup of the completed buttercream, ≈1/4 teaspoon turmeric, and 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest.

Once the cake has cooled and you’ve cut it into the shape you’d like, frost the layers of cake together. Before icing the sides and top, I like to put the layered cake in the freezer for a short time (it helps prevent crumbs from getting into the icing). Smooth the buttercream over the whole cake.
(You’ll have to forgive my accents on the pictures of this cake. I didn’t have my icing tips…yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses…and resorted to using a straight-up cut sandwich bag as my piping tool.)
Now you can decorate however you’d like!


We decided on MaMa’s birthday that we’d surprise her with our company and her cake. When the Husband, my sister, her fiancé, my brother, and myself arrived, she was sound asleep in her bed. So, what should grandchildren do in this situation? Hm. Well, we gathered around her bed and, after the whispered count to three, screamed, “Happy Birthday!”

She woke up. And then we ate cake.

pumpkin gouda soup

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I have this thing with soups. Most of the time when I crave something, it’s soup. I’m also not really a don’t-let-my-foods-touch kind of person (you know, elementary school lunch tray), so soups just make sense. Even in hot weather (and I mean SC hot, like 126 degrees hot), I still want soup. My family will say, “Gumbo? Chili? In this?” as they’re fanning themselves with the first flat thing they can find (in my house, it would probably be a Judy Garland album or a piece of sheet music) and sweating is a normal occurrence even when the air conditioning is blowing right in their faces. Ugh. But that’s over. It’s autumn now. And it’s pumpkin time. And I have no fear that people will gladly come eat soup with me, without any strange “huh?” faces in sight. Thank you, cool weather, for arriving!

On our first anniversary, Husband and I went to western North Carolina for a beautiful vacation in the mountains. On the way home in a little restaurant in Blowing Rock, we found and ordered a roasted red pepper gouda soup. It was meant to be shared. I ate the whole bowl. It was incredibly warming and completely satisfying, even when the husband was trying to fight me for the spoon in between every bite and we ended up flinging some of it around the restaurant (am I WRONG here?). So, when trying to figure out what dish I was going to make for the third (and last!) chapter of the pumpkin series, I first thought, “Soup!…but how?” and then I remembered this soup that we fought over a year ago. Perfect!

pumpkin gouda soup
ingredients
4 strips of bacon
1 large sweet onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, optional
1 tsp allspice
salt and pepper to taste
6 cups chicken broth
3 1/2 cups roasted pumpkin purée 
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup shredded gouda cheese

create
In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, cook the bacon over medium heat until crisp. Remove the bacon to paper towels and drain all but one or two tablespoons of bacon grease from the pan. Add the onions (and a few pinches of salt and pepper) to the grease and sauté until tender.
A teacher in a cooking class the husband and I took once told us to add a little salt and pepper to each stage of the cooking so that everything would be separately seasoned.
Add the garlic, red pepper flakes, cayenne (I like spicy things and I feel that a little spice brings out flavors, but this is totally optional) and allspice. Cook a minute longer.
Stir in the broth and the pumpkin and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and allow it to simmer, uncovered, for about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and let it cool slightly.

Using a hand-held immersion blender (these things are the bomb, super easy to use, and I totally recommend), process the soup until it’s smooth and large chunks are gone. If you don’t have an immersion blender, you could always mix the soup in a countertop blender in batches. Return to the heat and stir in the cream. Heat thoroughly. Taste it to see if it needs more salt, pepper, or allspice.
Stir in the shredded gouda until it’s melted. Serve hot with the reserved bacon (chopped) and, if you’d like, extra cheese.

This is one of those soups that is so comforting that it’s like a friend in a bowl. Except you’re eating the friend. It’s okay. This is a friend that knows exactly what you need: a perfectly delicious time of warm happiness.
I’m a nerd. Someone just get me a bowl.