Gravy Angst

         If you are an anxiety type, Thanksgiving presents two excellent opportunities for worry. The first and most obvious is: What will you do if there are family dynamics? A recent article in the New York Times laid this out very nicely. What to do? Duck! And I don’t mean the quack-quack kind of duck, but the verb. 

         In the wise words of a very wise teacher, just because someone hands you a X#*P (expletive meaning not-so-good tasting) sandwich doesn’t mean you have to take a bite. (Rudi did not beat about the bush.)  So when the family starts acting up, don’t take a bite of that sandwich. It’s only a day. They’ll be gone soon enough.  Whatever you do, don’t take it personally. Holidays bring out the best and worst in all of us, so it’s best to breathe deeply, and cut everyone a little slack. So much easier said than done. Or you could go to the Caribbean.

 

         The second source of anxiety is the turkey gravy. Now this is in the don’t-sweat-the-small-stuff category. In the face of family feuds, gravy is something you can actually do something about. I’m going to give you my quick and dirty on this right now, starting with: How much gravy do you need? Personally, I don’t want vats of gravy lying around after Turkey Day to remind me of excesses I do not wish to be reminded of. I do want enough to go with my second or third day of leftovers, however. A quarter of a cup of gravy is quite enough for one reasonably restrained person who will not be going back for seconds. Since “reasonably restrained” and Thanksgiving are incompatible, count on 1/3 to 1/2 cup gravy per turkey eater. Then add what you want for leftovers. Now you have a number you can work with.

You will find many, many methods for making gravy. Just pick one and stick with it. Here is mine, which is based on the fact that Mom always used an old-fashioned aluminum gravy shaker. One day I spied a plastic version of it in a cookware shop and snapped it up. Now, it’s a little late in the game to try to find one of these for this year, but keep your eyes peeled for the future. I’ve seen them on e-bay. I’m not very high on extraneous kitchen gadgets that have a single purpose, but this little gizmo allows you to combine flour with cold water to create a smooth slurry in the shake of a…. Anyway, you can do the same thing in a bowl by whisking flour and cold water together. Or you could use Wondra (instant flour) which solves the lumpy problem. If you can’t get the lumps out, simply strain the mixture BEFORE you add it to the stock.

Turkey Gravy

Makes 4 cups to serve 8 to 12 (recipe can be multiplied)

Turkey neck and wing tips

1/2 onion, peeled and sliced

1 carrot, thickly sliced

1 stalk of celery, thickly sliced

1 bay leaf

Salt and pepper

4 or more tablespoons flour

Low-salt chicken broth as needed

1. As soon as the turkey goes in the oven, put the turkey neck and the wing tips (if you have cut them off the turkey) in a large saucepan with the onion, carrot, celery and bay leaf. Add a pinch of salt and a few grindings of black pepper. Cover with about an inch of water and bring to a boil over medium heat. Decrease the heat so that the stock simmers gently while the turkey roasts, for at least one hour. Just be sure the liquid doesn’t boil away. Strain the stock.

2. When the turkey is done, remove it from the roasting pan and set it on a platter to rest for a while before carving (at least 30 minutes.) Pour all the juices and fat from the roasting pan into a large (4 cup) Pyrex measuring cup or glass bowl. Let it rest for about 5 minutes to allow the fat to separate and rise to the top. Skim off and discard the fat.

3. Pour about 1 cup of the turkey stock you made in step one into the roasting pan and stir with a whisk to release all the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the turkey drippings (now de-fatted) to the pan and stir some more. Strain all of this back into the measuring cup to see how much you have and to rid the stock of any unwanted crusty bits from the bottom of the pan. Add enough turkey stock to the measuring cup to make four cups. If you don’t have enough stock, add chicken broth. Pour it into a saucepan.

4. Mix the flour with 1/3 cup cold water until smooth, using a gravy shaker, or whisking it in a bowl to smooth out the lumps. Strain if you can’t get the lumps out. Whisk this slurry into the stock and bring it to a boil. Simmer for at least 5 minutes to rid the gravy of the raw flour taste. The amount of flour depends on your taste. My view on this is that it should be fairly thin; the flour should just add a little body to the stock without making it goopy. If you want thicker gravy, repeat the flour and water exercise, and add it cautiously and in increments to the gravy. It will thicken as it cooks, so give it a little time (5 to 6 minutes) before you jump in with more flour. Season with salt and pepper.

I have one more recipe to share for Thanksgiving. This cranberry relish has become a must-have on our family’s list. I never mind making it because it takes all of about 4 minutes. It is fresh, and bright and slightly puckery. You can use the leftovers to make pancakes, too. Don’t add the relish to the batter, but when you pour the batter onto the griddle, dribble a few teaspoons of it over the top and continue to cook the pancake in the usual way. Hmm…. You could sprinkle on a few pecans, too. But I digress.

Cranberry Relish
Makes 4 cups

1 orange

1 lemon (if you can find a Meyer lemon, that would be nice)

1 (12-ounce) package of cranberries

2 cups of sugar

1. Cut thin slices off the bottom and top of the orange and the lemon to expose the flesh and discard the slices. Slice the fruit into thin-ish rounds, removing the pits as you slice, and toss them into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse the machine until the fruit is coarsely chopped. Add the cranberries and pulse again. Stop before it becomes a puree. Pour it into a bowl, stir in the sugar and refrigerate. It’s best if you make it a few hours ahead of time. As far as I can tell it keeps forever in the refrigerator. That’s all there is to it.

If you get on a cranberry sauce-making jag, here is another one from Dorie Greenspan in Parade Magazine that is terrific and would complement the relish nicely.Dorie's Cranberry Sauce with Apricots

Wishing you a happy and stress-free Thanksgiving. Even though times have been tough for a lot of people, it is good to set aside a day to count our blessings. Amen.

A Carrot Epiphany

        When it comes to Thanksgiving, I’m all about tradition. I want my grandmother’s turkey stuffing , my sweet potatoes,  my mashed potatoes, and Thanksgiving just isn’t Thanksgiving without Grandmother’s pumpkin pie. It’s just wrong to take them away and try to be fancy. After that, though, there’s room for creativity. That’s where these carrots come in.

The day I made granola to send to my son a few weeks ago, I still had the agave syrup and cranberries on the counter. The fridge was bare but I was feeling too lazy to go to the market if I could postpone it for another day. Further inspection yielded the presence of enough leftover roast chicken to eke out a meal and a bunch of yellow carrots from the farmers’ market. And so, eyeing the cranberries and the agave syrup, a new carrot dish was born. I’m probably not the first to think of this combo, but it is definitely beautiful enough to merit a place at the Thanksgiving table.

I never really appreciated how much I took carrots for granted until I started buying them at the farmers’ market. If the tops are still attached and vibrant, you know the carrots are fresh and a fresh carrot is a revelation. I had begun to notice a musty and unpleasant smell hanging about in those little bags of “baby” carrots, but since they were so convenient, I just rinsed them. And rinsed them. But once I sampled a freshly picked carrot there was no going back. Pungent, sharp, crisp and well, carotty, in a really good way.

How to Cut A Carrot

       This may seem like an overly elementary point to make, but for you beginners out there (and for all my newbie cooking students) I want to emphasize that the easiest (and safest) way to cut a vegetable is with the flat side down. First of all, carrots, once peeled, should not be just hacked into chunks. (As my old friend Bernard would say with a smirk on his face, “eet ees for the peoples, not for the an-eeh-muls!”) And they should be cut into pieces of approximately the same size. Not only do they look better that way, but also they will cook evenly. To cut a long vegetable like a carrot or a stalk of celery in half lengthwise is tricky, but it is a less demanding task if you cut across it to make 4-inch (approx) lengths, a length that your hand and knife will be able to manage smoothly. Then, cut the shorter lengths in half the long way. Now, with the flat side down, you can cut the lengths into the size you want.

EASY Glazed Yellow Carrots with Cranberries

If you can’t find yellow carrots, orange carrots will still look and taste beautiful. Try to buy them with the tops on. You can easily double this make-ahead recipe for more people on Thanksgiving, but don’t forget about them all winter long. They will really take the boredom out of a simple roast chicken dinner. Since bunches of carrots vary in size, count on about 2 large or 3 small carrots per person.

Serves 6

3 bunches yellow or orange carrots

Salt and pepper 
3 slices of fresh ginger (unpeeled)

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon agave syrup or honey

1 teaspoon molasses

Juice from 1/4 to 1/2 lemon

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1. Peel the carrots and cut them in half lengthwise. If the carrots are thick, cut them in quarters (lengthwise.)  Cut the pieces in 2-inch lengths.

2. Bring about 1/3-inch water to a boil over medium heat in wide saucepan or skillet. Add a generous pinch of salt, the carrots and the ginger slices. Cook the carrots for about 7 minutes, or until crisp tender. They should be slightly underdone since you will cook them a little longer (or reheat them.)

3. If there is still a lot of water in the pan, push the carrots aside, tilt the pan and ladle off most of the liquid, leaving only enough to coat the bottom of the pan in a thin layer. Add the butter, agave syrup, molasses, lemon juice and cranberries. Taste and add a few grindings of pepper and more salt if necessary. 

TO MAKE AHEAD: Finish glazing the carrots, but don’t add the cranberries until you reheat the dish.

Happy Thanksgiving! Check out this New York Times Article for some more “side” suggestions.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/11/dining/11sides.html Show Off Sides: Fiery Sweet Potatoes, Roasted Cauliflower with Lemon Brown Butter and Sage Salt, Caramelized Corn with Fresh Mint

Flat Bread (Fougasse): High Hopes

       

About a week ago, on a splendiferous, unseasonably warm day for November, I decided it was high time to get outside and take a break, so I headed for a nearby wildlife sanctuary. Ahhhhh, fresh air. I was taking deep, appreciative breaths of it, admiring the waning light and the delicious fall smells, listening to the leaves rustle as I swished through them on the path. Oops. Now I was eating them. I wasn’t really thinking of them as delicious in that way, but there I was, flat on my face, dirt and leaves in my mouth. How did that happen? I had been moving at a pretty good clip and my toe must have caught on a root under the leaves, but really, there was no time to negotiate the fall. How I got there was moot.

I picked myself up and checked out my teeth and bones. Nope, nothing broken. I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed my humiliation. Nope again. At least I had my dignity, although really? After raising a teenager you still think you have dignity? said self to self. There was blood, too. I whipped out my phone, until that moment forgotten in a pocket, and surveyed the damage with a photo. Yes, I would live to tell the tale.

       Just then, an old song popped into my head and I laughed out loud. Alone and in the woods, you’re allowed to be a looney, right?  Anyway, it was Frank Sinatra’s High Hopes. I loved that song when I was a kid, a real catchy tune. I started singing silently “Anyone knows an ant (beat) can’t (beat) move a rubber tree plant.”  Have I got you singing it yet? Whatever you do, don’t listen to it, cuz you won’t be able to get it out of your head. I realized that I have been feeling a lot like that little ol’ ant lately. I keep bumping up against the rubber tree plant, find myself chin on the ground. So I keep doing what the song says: ‘there’s a lot to be learned, so look around.’

       A few days later I was preparing to teach a cooking class on the most popular FLAT bread of all time, pizza. Come to think of it, a theme was emerging. During the pizza class, through my negligence, some of the pizzas were a little too thin. FLAT again!  And they were not as perfect as I, the teacher, felt they should have been, since I was the guiding hand so to speak. But guess what? The pizzas were incredibly delicious, and all of us learned something new from the experience, especially from the mistakes. (You can see photos from the class on the Cooking Class Link.)

 One of the best, unplanned coincidences that occurred in the class (is it just me, or are there lots and lots of coincidences all the time?) was that the students came in pairs:  mother and son, mothers and daughters, a guy and gal. They reinforced my belief about how cooking together is a very bonding experience. So as Thanksgiving rolls around, I thought I should post a recipe/project you could do with someone over the holiday. If you are not cooking up the whole shebang by yourself, grab a kid, a friend, a spouse or a significant other and make this bread to take along to the person who is cooking the turkey. Not only is it flat, but it is also in the shape of a leaf. I’m just a bundle of coincidences.

Fougasse

       Fougasse is a flatbread with ancient roots going back at least as far as the twelfth century in France. It is a cousin of the Italian flatbread focaccia, a name that is also derived from the latin root focus (ashes from the hearth.) Its many variations include herbs, olives, anchovies, strong spices, nuts, fruits, and sugar, as well as the use of puff pastry instead of bread dough. This is a simple version with a charming leaf shape, excellent and dramatic alongside some wine or cheese. You could make your own dough or buy ready-made pizza dough.

Makes 1 large loaf

About 1 tablespoon cornmeal

A little flour

About one pound pizza dough (A one-half piece of the pizza dough recipe)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon Maldon sea salt, or coarse salt

1 tablespoon coarsely chopped rosemary (1 to 2 sprigs)

1. Dust a baking sheet with cornmeal. Sprinkle the countertop with a little flour.

 2. Gently flatten the dough into a teardrop shape about 10 inches long and 6 inches wide, tapering it at the bottom. Go ahead, be a geek and use a ruler. Place it on the cornmeal-lined baking sheet with the narrow end facing you. Make three 2 1/2-inch vertical slits in a line down the center with a single edge razor. Make 2 more two-inch slits at an upward angle on each side of the central “vein,” so that the dough looks like a large leaf. Work your fingers into the openings created by the slits and stretch them to about three times their original size. You must allow enough room for the bread to rise without closing the spaces.

3. Let the fougasse rise until it has doubled in volume, from 35 to 45 minutes, longer if the dough is cold. About 20 minutes before the fougasse is ready to be baked, position a rack in the middle of the oven and heat the oven to 450°F.

4. Brush the olive oil over the top of the dough. Sprinkle it with salt and rosemary. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes, until the fougasse is golden brown. Serve warm or at room temperature on the same day that it is baked.

Dough
Makes about 2 pounds plus 3 ounces dough, enough for 4 individual pizzas or 2 fougasses

4 cups (500g) unbleached bread flour or all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon instant yeast (aka “rapid rise”)

1 1/2 teaspoons fine sea salt

1 1/2 cups (350g) water, at a temperature of about 70°F

1 teaspoon olive oil for the dough bowl

1. Measure the flour, yeast and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Process for a few seconds to mix the dry ingredients. With the machine on, rapidly pour the water through the feed tube (this should take no more than 6 seconds). Continue to process for a few more seconds, just until the dough starts to come together in a mass. If the dough feels very sticky, add a bit more flour; if it feels dry, add a little water.

2. Turn the dough out of the work bowl onto the countertop. Knead it for about 5 minutes, until it is smooth and elastic. Resist the temptation to add too much flour; the dough may feel sticky but it will become less so as you knead it. It should be soft and slightly tacky, not stiff or dry.

3. Form the dough into a smooth ball. Pour about one teaspoon of olive oil into a large bowl. Place the dough in the bowl and twirl it around to coat it with oil on all sides. Place the bowl inside a plastic bag  (a clean trash bag or plastic grocery bag will do) and loosely tuck the open ends underneath the bowl. Puff up the top of the bag to form a tent. Leave the dough to rise at room temperature until it has doubled in volume, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours. If you are in a hurry, 45 minutes of rising time will still be okay. Shape into the flat breads of your choice.

To mix the dough by hand: Mix the flour, yeast and salt together in a large bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the water. Stir with a wooden spoon, gradually incorporating the flour into the center, until stirring becomes difficult. Dump the whole shaggy mess onto the countertop and begin kneading. Power through the stickiness (with the help of a dough scraper if you have one,) adding as little flour as possible until the dough becomes satiny, smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes.

Share the Love: Coconut almond granola recipe

       
You never, ever imagine when you are holding your little baby that someday he will grow up and leave home. It would spoil the experience, to be sure, to think that far ahead. So you don’t. But ‘eventually’ comes to pass. And there you are, looking at your husband with a very stupid expression on your face, wondering what the hell you are going to do now.  

I thought it would be a big boo hoo. In fact, a few years before number one and only son left for college, my throat tightened and my eyes welled up just thinking about his departure. Once, in the car, I heard a mother talking on the radio about her daughter returning for Thanksgiving. I cried all the way home. Deep, sorrowful sobs, they were. That was before before the driver’s license, the girlfriend and the stress of college applications.    

Fast forward to Christmas Day of my son’s senior year. We didn’t share the day with family or friends because of impending deadlines, but we were a cozy threesome. I cooked a duck and sallied between the kitchen and dining room, clearing stacks of applications and folders from the table and stopping every once in a while to read and comment on the latest essay, the one that HAD to be mailed on the following day. And then it was all over but the waiting.

     

When the letters came in the spring and that particular angst was completed, I held my breath until graduation. All those years of delivering birthday cupcakes, helping with the auction, volunteering for the school fair, scurrying around looking for bits and pieces of missing homework, tracking down jackets, sweatshirts, sports equipment, hats, gloves, scarves and lost books: over. In a day. On that day and for the few months that followed, I walked around in a haze of low-grade sadness. The summer ended. My baby took a gap year. He traveled around the world, texting and phoning me from far-off places, jumping out of airplanes, diving into the ocean with a scuba tank on his back and doing many, many things I don’t want to know about. I eased into his absence. It was, after all, natural. In time, I snapped out of it.

       Now that he is at college, I know I could worry about a lot of things. But I don’t. I don’t miss the nagging about homework, the anxiety that runs from Friday to Sunday, the maddening dance between ‘I’m independent, but could you do my laundry and pick up umpteen million loose ends?’ I am free to enjoy and appreciate the wonderful human being I have raised, to have deep conversations and good, solid belly laughs. I cannot give him a hug because he is a plane ride away, but I can send him some love in a package. Something to keep him connected to home and to cheer him on. I can share the love in a whole new way.  


Coconut-Almond Cranberry Granola  


Since my college boy is a finicky fella and doesn’t like honey, I used agave syrup (find it at Whole Foods or other natural foods store) and a hefty dose of vanilla. I used all rye flakes when I made this because I couldn’t find the other grains, but check out your natural food store for selection. Play around with this recipe if you want (honey or rice syrup or raisins or other dried fruit.) It’s all good. Any kid would like this: at home, in college, or living in an apartment. Send a love package. 
8 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
3 cups rye flakes, wheat flakes, or barley flakes, or a combination thereof
2 cups sliced almonds
1 cup agave syrup
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup mild vegetable oil
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
2 cups unsweetened, grated coconut
2 cups dried cranberries


(Makes about 18 cups)


1. Heat the oven to 350°F.


2. Combine the oats, your choice of flakes, and almonds in a big bowl. Warm the agave syrup, brown sugar, vegetable oil, salt and vanilla in a saucepan over medium heat. Pour it over the grains and mix well to coat.


3. Divide the granola evenly between 2 rimmed baking sheets. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove the baking sheets from the oven and stir the granola. Return the pans to the oven. Continue to bake, removing the pans and stirring the granola every 5 to 7 minutes or so, for 15 to 20 more minutes until it is golden and toasty. Rotate the pans (switch the pan from the top rack to the bottom and vice versa) each time you stir the granola so it browns evenly. To keep it from scorching, check it often towards the end of baking. It browns quickly at the end. Remove the pans from the oven and let the granola cool on the baking sheet.


4. Spread the coconut on a third baking sheet and toast, stirring occasionally for 7 to 9 minutes. Check it often. Once the oil from the coconut is hot, it will brown quickly. Cool the coconut on the baking sheet.


5. Pour the granola, coconut and cranberries back into the giant bowl and mix well. Store in airtight containers for up to 2 weeks for maximum freshness.

Baby Cakes, Baby Steps

Today is a new beginning. What better place to start than cupcakes? They’re so approachable. So humble. So cute. So…..unthreatening. You bake them. You ice them. You eat them. No first time baker starts with a wedding cake or some other extravaganza.  A cupcake is a metaphor, a delicious, sweet symbol for taking it just one step at a time. Which is what I am doing right now with this, my very first post and very first recipe. The title of this blog “When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Bake Cupcakes” is about the little steps you can take at any moment in the in face of adversity. Update: though I have changed the title of this blog to Cooking Lessons, the concept remains the same.

It’s overwhelming to think you always have to take Giant Leaps to get where you want to go. Sometimes you can do that, but mostly, it’s about the baby steps. Sometimes, you can’t do a damn thing about the economy, the state of the world, the state of your love life, the state of (fill in the blank.) But you can always cook or bake something. At least you are moving and you get to eat something really, really good at the end of the exercise. So, welcome to these pages. I hope will find something useful here: recipes, and such. Don’t know what the ‘and such’ will be yet, but I do know it’s out there. Times are not always tough, but every day has its little challenges, and the kitchen is a great place to escape to, to get out of yourself, and to get over yourself. Tell me what’s on your mind. I’ll be listening.

I believe in cupcakes. An article in Newsweek a few months ago decried their poplularity as a bubble about to burst, the has-beens of the next best thing, a sugar rush heading for a crash. (http://www.newsweek.com/id/214866) Not! I don’t accept that. Cupcakes are forever. True, someday the cupcake shop near you will probably fold, just as everything changes, everything comes and goes in time, but what do you think those muffin tins in your cupboard are for? You can whip them up yourself in a cupcake emergency. And frankly, there are plenty of emergencies that require cupcakes. Birthdays, for example, especially when school children are involved. Or how about a miserable friend, suffering from a break-up? Wouldn’t a cupcake cheer her up? You can bake ‘em and freeze ‘em (without the icing of course) and pull ‘em out when you need a few (freeze the icing in small batches, too.) You probably don’t want to provide your child’s entire class with cupcakes at three bucks or more a pop, so make these.

The key word here is emergency. These are not les petits gâteaux élégants. They have mayonnaise in them, which is sort of French, isn’t it? Anyway, keep in mind that eggs + oil = mayo. When you have mayo in the fridge and some cocoa powder in the cupboard, you can be in business in almost no time--under 10 minutes (to mix,) add another 20 minutes (to bake.) And you don’t have to go out when it’s snowing, the stores are closed or you just can’t face the supermarket. These are deep, dark chocolate cupcakes. Just don’t mention the mayo.

Emergency Chocolate Cupcakes

Makes about 16 cupcakes 

3/4 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder

1 1/4 cups boiling water

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/3 cups sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon fine salt

1 cup mayonnaise, not low-fat

2 teaspoons vanilla

1. Set a rack in the middle of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F. Line two standard-sized muffin pans with 16 cupcake liners.

2. Whisk the cocoa and the boiling water together until smooth in a large bowl. Let it cool slightly while you measure the flour, sugar, baking soda and salt into a separate bowl. Whisk the dry ingredients until they are thoroughly mixed.

3. Add the mayonnaise and vanilla to the cocoa mixture and whisk until smooth.  Add the dry ingredients and whisk until smooth. Fill the cupcake molds two-thirds full.

4. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of a cupcake comes out clean, 20 to 22 minutes. Cool the cupcakes in the pans for 10 minutes, then gently remove them to a rack to finish cooling. When they are completely cool, frost them with Old Fashioned Chocolate Icing

Old Fashioned Chocolate Icing.

Makes about 2 cups icing, enough for 16 cupcakes. 

1/2 cup (4 ounces/1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/2 cups confectioner’s sugar

Pinch of salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

3 ounces (3 squares) usweetened chocolate, melted and slightly cooled

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

1. Beat the butter until it is creamy. Add the sugar, salt and vanilla and mix until combined. Beat in the melted chocolate and the corn syrup. Don’t go to town, just beat it until it’s soft and creamy and not too aerated. Spread them on your cute little cakes with abandon.