Not my usual MO to post on food news, but an op-ed from this weekend's New York Times struck me and you've gotta read it. A farmer from Minnesota discusses how farm subsidies and penalties actively prevent him and other small, local farmers from growing fresh fruits and vegetables to make room for the subsidized crops: corn, soy, wheat, rice, or cotton. It's just one more reason why Americans eat horribly and suffer for it.
Poached Pear with Cajeta and Mascarpone
Dulce de Leche has quickly become this blog's most popular post. The one-step recipe for caramel has generated more traffic, more comments, and more general excitement on this end of things than any other post. I was thrilled to read so many great comments offering alternative names for the treat, as well as several creative recipe ideas. I'm planning on trying the one with a graham cracker crust soon!
Here's one more way to use all that caramel sitting in all of our fridges: top poached pears with it.
I generally poach pears in marsala or port. This time, I tried something different: someone brought a "young cabernet" to our house for dinner recently, and I had the rest of it in the fridge. Young cabernet is -- obviously -- not fully aged, so it's rather sweet, though not as sweet as traditional dessert wines. (Can you tell that I'm no wine expert?) Anyway, I thought it made the perfect poaching liquid for my relatively unripe but very flavorful bosc pears.
The method is pretty simple: Slice pears lengthwise, place in a saucepan in a single layer, and pour liquid overtop (about 1 1/2 cups per pear). Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook for approximately 30 minutes, until pears are easily pierced with a knife. Stir every so often and check to make sure the liquid doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan.
After pears are soft, transfer them to a serving platter, turn up the heat slightly, and cook the liquid uncovered until it reduces enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon. Drizzle (ok, pour) over pears. Top with a healthy spoonful of cajeta (the caramel) and, if you have some on hand, a bit of mascarpone. If you don't have mascarpone, try sour cream, whipped cream, or even yogurt.
Julia Child's French Bread: the Ultimate in Daring
And you thought the Yule Log was a challenge. Sure, Dellie and I found ourselves cleaning the kitchenaid every five minutes, rolling a delicate cake around itself, and spreading intense buttercream frosting to look like bark -- but judging by this month's challenge, the yule log was a mere warm-up.
Julia Child's French bread is a classic recipe, written in Julia's whimsical yet meticulous style, that purports to produce the most perfect, flavorful French bread around. Indeed, having tasted my scrumptious loaves, I know I never need to buy a baguette again. Unless I don't happen to have 12 HOURS ON MY HANDS to make my own. Yep, you heard it here first -- I woke up at 7:30 to start the dough, and my loaves didn't emerge from the oven until after 8pm. Now I know some really talented folks finished their bread in a shorter time, but what can I say? I'm a flippin' turtle.
Now look here: 12 hours is no five minutes. But Julia deserves 12 hours with each of us, wouldn't you say? And now that I've undergone trial by baguette fire, I feel well-equipped to make the best freakin' loaf of French bread that's ever passed my lips. On the daring bakers blog, I told other DBers that Julia's recipe produces a better product than Pain Polaine, the world-renowned Parisian boulangerie. I meant it: this bread has a crustier exterior, more bubble-filled innards, and an more complex overall flavor than any of the (delicious) baguettes, batards, boules, and ficelles I had in Paris.
I should mention that her recipe produces a loaf that, to me, was delightfully salty; D found it a bit too much so. Feel free to adjust the salt to your taste. Any which way, Julia's French bread recipe is a force to be reckoned with, an institution in French baking with good reason. If you happen to have 12 hours on your hands, Julia and I both would consider making this recipe to be time well spent.
Now let me warn you: this recipe is NOT short. It's so long that I'm afraid it'll break this lil' blog, so instead of posting it here, I'm linking to Mary's blog, where you can find the whole megillah. Cool?
Just a couple more photos, because I can't resist:
Happy Friday, and Happy (daring) baking!
Pasta Puttanesca
I am notoriously bad at making decisions. When we eat out, I always order last, often oscillating between two or three choices to the very last second. "What do you want to do tonight?" is my least favorite question. I'm not gonna tell you that it's different in Italian restaurants -- i still take forever to make up my darn mind -- but when in doubt, I unwaveringly choose pasta puttanesca. It may even be the benchmark by which I judge an italian joint. For D, that's gnocchi; if the gnocchi is bad, the place ain't worth it. But I'd happily forgo plump, soft gnocchi anyday for a solid bowl of homemade pasta and that delightfully salty and spicy puttanesca sauce.
Puttanesca is ideally eaten with penne or another tubular pasta that holds the sauce nicely. I happened to have cavatelli from Vace, a fantastic Italian market and pizza shop nearby, so I used that. Cavatelli are small disks of pasta that have been rolled from both ends to resemble miniature hot dog buns; when cooked, they're unctuous and toothsome -- fantastic for really biting into.
Pasta Puttanesca serves 2-3
- 3 Tbsp. olive oil
- 4 cloves garlic, mashed or chopped
- 1/4 of a large onion, chopped coarsely
- about 5 anchovies in salt (preferably) or oil (will do)
- a healthy tsp. chili flakes, more if desired
- 1/2 cup kalamata or other black olives, chopped (or whole if you're an olive fiend as I am)
- 1/4 cup plus 1 Tbsp. capers
- 2 cans good canned tomatoes or 3 cups of your favorite homemade tomato sauce
- Add the olive oil to a heavy-bottomed pot, and saute the garlic and onion over medium heat.
- Add the anchovies and chili flakes and stir until the anchovy starts to break down, about two minutes.
- Add canned tomatoes or tomato sauce, and stir to combine. Let simmer for -- oh, about two seconds, just until the flavors introduce themselves to each other.
- Add to fresh, just-boiled pasta, toss to combine, and eat up!