An Invitation to Dinner

I'm not feeling adequately inspired by this incarnation of my blog, so I'm trying again.  I invite you to join me for Dinner at Dorrit's, where I'll share with you not only my culinary meanderings through the cookbook library, but also, I hope, more useful everyday recipes and tips.  Please join me!

The Melting Pot

Although the Time Life books are occasionally a little odd in their organization, they definitely deserve props for including a volume dedicated to the wealth and variety of influences brought to the US by its immigrants from around the world.  The Melting Pot volume includes recipes ranging from Jewish to Chinese to Caribbean to Italian to Eastern European.  I didn't think I could assemble a cohesive meal drawing from all those sources so I elected for a simple meal of homey Eastern European dishes.

The book: Time Life: American Cooking: The Melting Pot

The menu:

• Main Course: Mushroom Pierogies, Cabbage Pierogies, Cream of Leek Soup
• Dessert: Honey-Orange Loaf Cake

I can't claim the Ukrainian pierogies were a smashing success, but maybe I'd get better at them with practice.  For starters, the ration of filling to dough didn't seem to work out at all and, in fact, I only managed to produce about half as many pierogies as the recipe claimed to make (although with just two of us, we still ended up throwing some out, even after consuming all the leftovers we could face).  The recipe is broken into three parts, the dough, the mushroom filling, and the cabbage filling.  I made the (correct, it appears) assumption that the filling recipes each produced enough filling to fill a whole dough recipe (ie the authors assumed that you would make one variety or the other, but not both).  Since I wanted to experiment with both, I made a half recipe of each filling.  I did omit the rice from the mushroom filling since producing 3 tbs of cooked rice seemed like more trouble than it was worth and I didn't have any convenient leftovers.  The lack of rice doesn't seem to have hurt the filling at all.  Everything seemed to be going along swimmingly until I started actually assembling the pierogies.  I'd used no more (and probably less) than half the filling by the time I'd used up all the dough.  The recipe said to make the wrappers about 1/4" thick which, I think, I did.  I don't know if I was somehow supposed to be able to cram a lot more filling into each one, if I actually made them too thick, or if the dough wasn't quite right, but something was clearly not so right.  I had a pretty tough time sealing up the pierogies around all that filling.  I imagine practice would help.  I popped them in the oven but when the designated 10-12 minutes had passed the little beasties appeared far from done.  A hint, perhaps, that my wrappers were, indeed, too thick?  In the end I baked them for more than twice the allocated time, the second half on a higher temperature.  They never picked up the golden-brown color I thought they ought to have, but did at least seem to be cooked through.  Unfortunately, my troubles sealing up the packets made themselves totally evident.  Nearly every pierogie popped open in the oven.  We set to and ate them anyway.  Next time (if there were a next time which there probably won't be) I'd definitely cut the salt a bit.  Otherwise they weren't too bad, although we definitely preferred the mushroom the cabbage.

We both thought the Romanian leek soup was pretty good.  It was nice and leek-y.  I liked it rather better than the last leek soup I made since I didn't so much care for the caraway in that one.  It had a lot more leek and a lot less potato than other recipes I've used, just enough potato to give it some structure.  It also has a much more complex array of flavors, relying on a combination of chicken stock and wine for liquid, rather than water as so many other recipes do.  Processing the soup through the food mill was a lot more effort than using the stick blender, but did produce a substantially better texture.  I think I'm persuaded that the extra effort is worth it.

As has been the case with several meals, now, the dessert was really the capstone.  Although I am not sure I'd call the confection a cake so much as a tea-bread (in the same family as, say, banana bread), it was thoroughly enjoyable.  The addition of a bit of coffee ensures that it is not nearly as sweet as the honey in its name suggests it might be.

Next time we head to New England.

Just because you can mix foods...

...doesn't mean you should!  And today's meal was a solid demonstration of that very astute observation by my dear husband.  Yes, I had my first disaster.  It was bound to happen sooner or later, and with my choice of recipes today I knew I was courting it.  They just sounded wrong.  So, why did I pick them you ask?  Two reasons.  One is that part of my goal with this project is to stretch my boundaries.  How will I learn if I don't try new things?  The other is that today's cookbook was full of odd sounding recipes - it was too tempting not to experiment, but ginger ale salad was just a bit too much.

The book: Time Life, American Cooking: The Great West

The menu:

• Main Course: Lamb and Broccoli St. Francis, Eggplant-Banana (no joke!) Casserole, Cous-cous (thank goodness for something normal!)
• Dessert: Postre Borracho

Lamb and Broccoli St. Francis is just confused.  It starts out as lamb stew, then you throw in broccoli florets, and finally, you finish it like a chicken fricassee.  When I read the recipe I figured the broccoli would be fine, but I was a little concerned about the finish.  Egg-yolk-thickened lemon juice didn't really seem like a good match for the meaty, oniony stew base.  I thought maybe I'd learn something new, though, so I gave it a try (that, and I was determined to experiment with the eggplant-banana casserole but there weren't many recipes that had any hope of serving as a suitable main dish with that as the side).  My instinct was right.  The fricassee-like finish was a disaster.  It both looked and tasted rather like...well...vomit.   Yuck!

The eggplant-banana casserole was even worse.  I like eggplant.  I like tomatoes (in fact, if I were stranded on a desert island with only 3 types of foods, tomatoes would probably be one).  I like bananas.  I could not conceive that mixing the three would have happy results, but I just had to try.  In fact, the finished dish looked ok, with nicely overlapping slices of eggplant on top.  Taste was a different question, though.  Under no circumstances should one ever mix bananas with tomatoes and eggplant.  Not ever.  Not for any reason.  If the stew looked like vomit, this was worse.  It made me vomit.  Literally.  I honestly cannot remember the last time I tasted anything so bad.  And I know it has to be the mix of ingredients.  I ate several slices of the eggplant after they were prepped (seasoned and lightly fried).  I also tasted the banana after it had been sauteed in butter.  The tomato slices were just salted before being added to the casserole, so they can't have been the problem.

We ended up tossing both the stew and the eggplant and getting take-out from the little place down the street.  It was that bad.

Dessert at least redeemed the meal.  The cake is rich but not too sweet until it is soaked in a simple syrup doctored with vodka.  The recipe instructs the baker to use a skewer to poke holes in the top.  I did, but evidently not enough.  The syrup mostly ran down the sides of the cake and pooled in the bottom.  The hour the book recommended letting the cake sit in the syrup wasn't enough and the cake was a bit dry.  By the next day, though, it had thoroughly absorbed the syrup and was delicious.  I'd definitely make it again (but a day ahead).

Next time we explore some of the myriad cultures that have contributed to American cooking.

PS Before you discount main courses from this book, I should let you know that my very favorite chili recipe comes from it.  Just assume that if it sounds too weird to be good, it probably is.

Exploring the Eastern Heartland

The Eastern Heartland, it seems, is centered on Amish country and the Germanic feel imparted by good Pennsylvania Dutch cooking was clearly evident in this week's menu.

The Book: Time Life, American Cooking: The Eastern Heartland

The Menu:

• First Course: Shaker Potato-Leek Soup
• Main Course: Chicken & Parsley Dumplings, Broccoli Puree
• Dessert: Apple Jonathan

I'll start with heresy: Time Life's potato-leek soup is much better than Julia Child's.  Although I like potato-leek soup a lot, Julia Child's always comes out bland and mealy when I make it.  Not so with this recipe.  I don't especially care for caraway and might use a little less in the future or, perhaps, remove the seeds after boiling the potatoes.  I'd also tinker a bit with the ratio of leeks to potatoes - a little more leek or a little less potato.   I did use a stick blender rather than putting the soup through a food mill as directed in the recipe.  Certainly easier and I was happy with the texture.  I probably also used a little more of all the seasonings except caraway - I grow more and more convinced that in the nearly 40 years since these books were published American palettes have grown more sophisticated and demand stronger flavors, mine does anyway; Time Life recipes consistently call for far less seasoning (except salt which is generally fine) than I would normally use.

The chicken & dumplings was good.  The chicken could probably use a bit more seasoning, although the texture and basic flavor was nice.  They gravy didn't thicken the way I'd expect.  I think next time I might try removing the chicken then boiling the sauce down some - that would help concentrate the flavor as well.  The dumpling recipe is fantastic, though.  It definitely produced the best dumplings of any of the recipes I've used (notably New Basics and New York Times).  They came out beautifully light and fluffy.  The broccoli puree was fine, but maybe not really worth the effort.  If I were to make it again I'd probably use a little less butter - an entire stick seems like...well...more than necessary for a cup and a half or so of pureed broccoli.  I also don't really get the chopped egg garnish.  I mean, it looked pretty - the bright white and yellow against the green of the broccoli, but didn't really add anything flavor or texture wise.

Ben liked the apple jonathan, but it didn't do anything for me.  The flavors all conflicted unpleasantly in my mouth - the apples fighting with the maple syrup and none of it very pleasant with the spongy, yet dry, slightly salty cake-like topping.  I knew the topping was going to be trouble even before I put it in the oven; after one taste I put the bowl aside unlicked.  I was surprised to discover that there was too much topping for the volume of apples since when I poured the batter I had a hard time even spreading it to cover the apples.  The baking powder really did its job, though.  Too bad it didn't taste good.

Leftovers: We threw the soup in the freezer.  I am sure it will make a great lunch or easy dinner on a cold day.  The chicken we left in its pot and had again a few days later.  It was terrific left over.  Maybe even better than the first day.  I only made a half recipe of dumplings the first night on the theory that they wouldn't keep so well.  I made more dumplings fresh the second night (it takes about 60 seconds in the food processor).  I just reheated the chicken gently on the stove and when it was simmering dropped in the dumplings.  The gravy thickened up nicely the second night, presumably a combination of a little extra simmering and a little mores starch.  Come to think of it, maybe part of the reason it seemed think the first night is because we didn't make a full recipe of dumplings so it go less added starch.  Food for thought...

Come with me next week as I head out west.

Home to the USA

After an initial foray into the exotic-in-theory, Time Life brings us home for a thorough exploration of American cooking.  We start with all-purpose Americana.

The Book: Time Life, American Cooking

The Menu:

• First course: New England Clam Chowder
• Main Course: Stuffed Pork Chops, Spiced Acorn Squash and Ceasar Salad
• Dessert: Maple Mousse

This was a perfect menu for the evening of the first snowfall of our first fall in New England.  Clam chowder is deeply satisfying and the substantial, fragrant, roasty pork and autumny acorn squash warm you to the bone.  And, of course, nothing says New England like rich maple syrup.

The clam chowder was not the dense, gummy glop you so often get in restaurants.  Although rich, the soup was very delicate in both flavor and texture.  A gentle, creamy, clammy broth filled with perfect little cubes of potato and nuggets of clam.  I used a bit more thyme than the recipe called for and I think it was perfect.  I couldn't get my hands on salt pork so I substituted a fairly mild bacon.  I think it was perfect.  It lent a smokiness to the soup that otherwise would have been absent.  I suspect that with salt pork the chowder would have been too mild.  This recipe calls for surprisingly few clams (just 24 for a soup that has 2 cups of cream, 3 of water and 4 cups of diced potatoes).  I liked it, but I think you could easily increase the number of clams if you want a more oceany soup.  You could also, surely, use a stick blender to puree some or all of the potatoes before adding the clams at the end if you prefer a thicker texture.

The pork chops were clearly the highlight of the main course, although there were some oddities about the recipe.  The recipe made at least twice as much stuffing as I could use and it took me three times as much cream to moisten the breadcrumbs as the recipe called for.  I can't figure out if there was an error in the amount of breadcrumbs or if the authors expected you to pack a great deal more very dry stuffing into each chop than I was able to manage.  Certainly if I hadn't used extra cream the stuffing would have been intolerably dry and, I think, if I'd used up all the stuffing the chops would have been very bready.  With extra cream and only half the stuffing used, the chops were delicious.  First richly browned on the outside, then braised in the oven in a simple gravy of chicken stock, carrots and onions.  Except for one chop which was a bit thin and tough to easily make a pocket for the stuffing, this recipe was relatively quick and easy to prepare.  I'll definitely make it again.

The squash, on the other hand, not so much.  Each half gets filled with a mixture of butter, brown sugar, maple syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves then topped with a bit of bacon.  The recipe wasn't too clear how much  it said a 1/2 inch strip, but I couldn't figure out if that meant a regular strip cut to 1/2 inch wide (so about 1/2 in by 6-8 in.) or a 1/2 inch piece of a regular strip (about 1 in x 1/2 in).  I opted for 1/2 a regular strip of bacon.  There was really nothing successful about the recipe.  The filling didn't really penetrate the flesh of the squash so it didn't have much flavor.  Instead it ended up with this sort of awful pool of fat in the middle with a puddle of gunky, half-melted brown sugar in the bottom.  Unpleasantly oily and sweet.  Ick!  The flavors are all, theoretically, nice with the squash.  I think I would make some major modifications were I to try this again.  First, I'd score the flesh before baking to improve the probably that the squash would actually absorb the seasonings.  I think I'd brush the squash with butter and maple syrup, sprinkle on the spices, then put a little pat of butter in the cavity to melt as the squash cooked.  If it needed a little more sweetness, I'd wait until near the end of the cooking, then sprinkle it with brown sugar and run it under the broiler briefly.  I might also substituted bacon drippings for some or all of the butter.

The Ceasar salad was just what it claimed to be.  A perfectly fine Ceasar but nothing special.  I am not sure what the point was of boiling the egg for 10 seconds.  That's really not long enough to make any appreciable difference.  Recipes that call for coddled eggs usually suggest 1 minute boiling.

The maple mousse was at its best before I put it in the fridge for the minimum 4 hours of chilling the recipe demanded and unmolding it seemed impossible. Maybe it would have been easier if I had a proper jello-mold.  No thanks! At its peak the mousse was a beautiful, light, fluffy, delicate concoction that disappeared in your mouth leaving behind only the pure, sweet taste of Sunday mornings pancake breakfasts and the sugaring-off days from Little House on the Prairie.  After chilling it was a much-less-appealing, dense, not very flavorful goo.  Next time I'll skip the gelatin and just serve it from glasses in its lovely, frothy state.  I bet it would also be good served with crepes as dessert-ified nod to the pancake breakfast.

Next week we embark on a tour of the regional cuisines of North America.  Our first stop is the eastern heartland.  See you there!

African Leftovers

Just a quick note on leftovers.  Both spinach and stew reheated fine in the microwave.  Although some stews get better for sitting, this one didn't really have enough flavor components to improve.  Neither did it get worse, though.  Although I didn't try, I imagine both would freeze fine as well.

A is for Africa

 The first stop on the quest to cook a meal from every book in the library is Africa!

The Book: Food of the World: Africa, TimeLife, 1970.







The Menu:

• Pumpkin Bredie (lamb & pumpkin stew) - South Africa
  
• Mchicha Wa Nazi (spinach with coconut milk and peanuts) - East Africa
  
• White rice

The preparation couldn't be easier.  Sear the lamb stew-meat (cut for me by the butcher), sweat a bunch of onions sliced thin on the mandoline (careful not to slice fingers), throw in chopped garlic, ginger, chillies, cinnaomon, cloves, salt, and pumpkin (fresh, cut in chunks) and cook for a while.  For the spinach: blanch and chop it, sweat some finely chopped onions and chillies, stir in coconut milk and ground peanuts and cook briefly, then add chopped spinach and cook until hot.  Rice is, well, rice.

Fortunately I detected prior to cooking that these recipes had been adjusted for the 1970s American palate.  In the stew I added more like a couple of tablespoons each of chopped garlic and ginger (as opposed to 1-2 teaspoons) and a couple of tablespoons of chillies (not just 1).  I even ventured a whole dozen or so cloves rather than the measly 4 the recipe suggested.  Thank goodness I did, too!  Otherwise the stew would have been inedibly bland, rather than the edible but very bland it turned out to be.  I knew a couple of teaspoons of seasoning couldn't be enough for  1 1/2 lbs. each of meat and pumpkin.  Next time (if there is a next time) double down again on the seasonings and don't seed the chillies first.

The spinach, fortunately, made up for the unexciting stew.  I think this may just become a staple preparation although I will probably experiment with stronger seasoning (more chillies? garlic? ginger?) here too.  Loved the texture and richness provided by the coconut milk and peanuts.  Sort of an African creamed spinach.

It does seem that Africa's a rather big place to explore with just one meal.  I'm thinking it may merit a return visit!

Next up: we come home to the good old USA.