Muscle Food

I didn't post on the cooking blog for quite a while, primarily because I wasn't cooking anything interesting. I mean, I was eating, and it was good, but it was mostly salads. How much can you really say about how to make a salad?

I did make 20 different dressings, I suppose I could do a post on salad dressing. But other than that, the posts would be 'put spinach in a bowl, rough chop whatever vegetables are left in the Farmer's Market bags, mix.' See? Not that interesting.

I didn't go as far as Rachel, with her month of raw eating, but I did manage to cut out all forms of sugar, all wheat, anything fried and even most fruit juice. I barely even drank beer, for god's sake. This meant I couldn't eat at very many of the places I like, but it was all for a purpose.

I ran a biathlon in October, the first athletic competition of any kind in my life. It was in Central Park and consisted of a 2 mile run, a 12 mile bike ride and then another 2 mile run, which I did in 1 hour 28 minutes. I actually did pretty damned good considering, coming in 20th out of 79 in my category (fat tire) and in the middle of the pack of 400.

All of the crazy eating, training and massive amounts of water drinking paid off: I'm down 40lbs from my three-cobbler-a-week peak of 210 lbs and feel great. A photo comparison:

Grizzly Mike

Apparently it made me really happy. Don't ask me. I love Rachel in this picture, she was very encouraging in the process, besides being the original inspiration. She looks proud of me, she did all morning.

I was even in good shape the first couple days after the biathlon, without being sore or overly tired at all. I never thought I could do something like this, so I was glad to have finished at all, let alone without having a heart attack immediately after.

So the biathlon was Oct 4, my birthday was Nov 5. Wanna know what I did between those dates, after months and months of strict eating? Got a guess? I'll give you a hint: think whiskey and cheese steaks.

What I figured out is that you can eat 3,000 calories a day if you're willing to go run around a little. So, ultimately, working out is not only very settling to my over-amped brain, but it plays into my eating fetish. I can excuse almost anything, as long as I can go to the gym the next day. Deal.

At this point we're looking at three major races next year: a half-marathon in May, the Nations Triathlon in DC in September and the Disney Marathon in Florida next January. I'm getting myself a four-tier wedding cake to eat in Jan '10.

In the meantime, I'll be back to plates of meat and veggies. Life could be worse.





With the exception of the last picture, which is delicious corned beef, the meat's pretty much all marinated and broiled, with the vegetables steaming in my Chinese bamboo steamers or spiced and baked. I like onions and peppers with nearly anything, and apparently I went through a string bean phase. Who knows?

I've been focused on weight training for the last month and eating whatever I want. I'll be back on the diet after a crazy month of traveling in January and will hopefully feel a little more inspired by the food this time. Either way, a big posting on marinades and salad dressings wouldn't be the worst thing. We'll see.

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 6 - The Coda

Alright, last Thanksgiving post from '08.

This one should be short and sweet, and I don't have any pictures. Looking over the last five posts is making me feel a little indulgent. Not guilty, exactly, more like somebody who suddenly realizes they've been talking about their dog for ten straight minutes. Like I need to tone it down a bit.

Did homemade cranberry sauce really make me that happy? The thing is, I think it did.

Of course, two days of planning and shopping followed by 28 hours of 'Cooking With Naps' gives you a kind of drunk, lightheaded feeling anyway. Then you add pulls off the tequila that goes in the turkey, glasses of the wine that's actually for the mushrooms, the imported beer and bong hits that seem to come in the pockets of every visitor, and you realize this is not a holiday for the weak. Measuring a teaspoon becomes hopeless so you only use spices you can trust. And just when you think you've reached the bottom of your concentration barrel, hungry people start showing up with more liquor and their big I-Slept-In-Today smiles.

And, as is always the case, everything works out for the best.

Leftover Heaven

One last recipe from this year's Times suggestions. Shiloh actually made this one a couple days after Thanksgiving, adjusting the recipe into a dish that made a lot more sense than the way they presented it.

The recipe in the paper is for a potato, salmon and spinach patty, but it's Thanksgiving. Everybody who has left over mashed potatoes is also going to have left over turkey and vegetables. How did they not connect those dots?

So, here is Shiloh's recipe for Potato-Turkey Patties, adjusted from Melissa Clark's Potato-Salmon Patties on page D9 of the Times Dining In section, November 19.

Ingredients

1 cup of cooked stock vegetables - carrots, celery, onion - chopped
2 cups mashed potatoes, chilled
1 cup of shredded turkey
2 1/2 cups bread crumbs
4 large eggs
2 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp black pepper
3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1. Combine vegetables, potatoes, turkey, 1 cup bread crumbs, 2 eggs, salt and pepper in a bowl and mix well.

2. Place remaining bread crumbs in a wide, shallow bowl. Beat the other 2 eggs and put them in a separate bowl, with the flour in a third bowl.

3. Form the mixture into patties, no more than 1 inch thick. Dip each one into the flour, then the egg, then the bread crumbs. The paper suggests you chill them in the fridge on a baking sheet for 30 minutes to 4 hours. I'm skeptical that this is as important as learning how to handle food in hot grease, but it certainly won't hurt anything.

4. When you're ready to eat, put 1/4 inch of olive or vegetable oil in a skillet over medium-high heat and cook the patties in batches for about 3 minutes per side, turning once. Transfer to a paper-towel covered plate and let them drain.

5. Serve hot with leftover cranberry sauce or gravy.

These were really something else, Shiloh woke me up out of a post-Thanksgiving stupor on the couch to try one. As soon as I came to I could smell the hot oil, the frying potatoes, Thanksgiving At The Drive-In. Jesus. It was like passing out in Monte Carlo and waking up in Vegas. The whole mashed potato-turkey combo is one I like anyway, I can usually be found with a scoop of potato or stuffing on top of each bite of turkey. So that's an easy sell.

What makes these is the frying aspect. Nothing gets fried on Thanksgiving at my place, and I don't think I've ever had fried turkey of any kind. Somehow I've managed to miss the mythical Deep Fried Turkey that I hear about every year, so this was my first little taste of the heat and crunch of fried foods combined with the warm, soft flavor and texture of turkey.

Other than that, it's a fried mashed potato ball, an absolute no-brainer home run on my gastronomical line-up. I'm sold.

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 5

Okay, we're nearing the end of the Thanksgiving Super-Blog. The deserts were a little more wide-ranging and awesome than I expected. I was pleasantly surprised, not because I was expecting anything bad, I just hadn't thought much about it until I realized I needed to open up the wall-mount table because of all the pie tins that were piling up.

Besides all the Weezy deliciousness, Rebekah brought three pies: a chocolate cream, a lemon meringue, and a custard. In keeping with this year's Thanksgiving blog stylee, I had the chef write up her own entry.

I like her recipes, they're very, very Rebekah. Efficient, funny, and with just enough go-with-the-flow.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the fantastic Rebekah:

Ah, pies!
I pretty much just go with the ol' Joy of Cooking recipes for everything except the cream or meringue topping, for which I go with my mom's method of guess-work and frequent taste-testing. The Joy of Cooking thinks you only need three egg whites to make meringue topping for an entire pie. I disagree.

Anyway, here goes:

Chocolate Cream Pie
You're supposed to use a double-boiler for this--the first time I used this recipe I did not, in fact, know what the hell a double-boiler was. My brother Neil advised me that a mixing bowl floating on top of a big saucepan with boiling water works just fine. He was right.
So, in the mixing bowl floating atop the boiling water, combine 1 cup of sugar, 1/2 cup of flour, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt.
Add, stir, and cook over (not in) the boiling water: 2 cups of milk and 2 oz. unsweetened chocolate
Remove the mixture from the heat.
Separate 3 eggs, beat the yolks and set aside the whites
Pour half of the hot mixture into the egg yolks
Stir until smooth
Add the mixture with the eggs to the half of the hot mixture you left behind in the "double-boiler"
Cook until thick
Remove from heat and add: 2 tablespoons of butter and 2 teaspoons of vanilla
Cool slightly before putting it into the crust

For the cream topping:
put a bunch of heavy whipping cream in a mixing bowl
while beating the cream, add a bunch of sugar, about half a cup at a time and a little bit of vanilla about a teaspoon at a time until it tastes good
stop beating before it turns to butter
spread it on top of the pie and shave some of that unsweetened chocolate over the top to make it pretty


Lemon Meringue Pie
Sift 1 1/2 cups of sugar, 6 tablespoons of cornstarch, and 1/4 teaspoon of salt into a 2- or 3-quart saucepan
Gradually blend in 1/2 cup of cold water and 1/2 cup of fresh lemon juice (usually about 3 medium-sized lemons if you're using a citrus juicer)
Separate 3 eggs, beat the yolks, set the whites aside
Add to the saucepan: the beaten egg yolks and 2 tablespoons of butter
Stirring constantly, add 1 1/2 cups of boiling water
Bring the mixture to a full boil (still stirring gently)
As the mixture begins to thicken, reduce the heat and allow to simmer for 1 minute
Remove from heat and add 1 teaspoon of grated lemon peel

For the meringue:
beat up your three leftover egg whites (plus, in my case, the three leftover egg whites from the chocolate pie) and add a bunch of sugar and a little bit of vanilla. When it tastes good and the meringue stands up when you fluff it with the beater, it's ready to be put on top of the pie. When you put it on top of the pie you gotta make sure the meringue is touching the crust all the way around or it will contract in the oven and you will have a little island of meringue in the middle of the pie. Use a plastic spatula to make the meringue all pretty and stick that sucker in the oven for a few minutes.

Custard Pie
pre-heat oven to 450 degrees
partially bake your pie shell --about 7-10 mins at 450
while the pie shell is partially baking, make your custard filling:
beat 3 eggs (the recipe says you could also use 6 egg yolks instead of 3 whole eggs, but I usually go with three whole eggs because what the hell am I gonna do with 6 extra egg whites?)
Add: 1/2 cup sugar, 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 2 cups of milk (I sometimes do more like 1 3/4 cups of milk and a quarter cup of heavy cream, though), and one teaspoon of vanilla
when it's partially baked, reduce the oven heat to 325, slide the rack halfway out and pour your custard into the crust
sprinkle some nutmeg on the top to make it pretty
bake the pie at 325 for about 30 minutes or until it's firm (in my oven it usually takes closer to 40 which means that last minutes usually brings at least 2 freak-out moments where I think I've totally screwed the whole thing up and also I tend to wish I had a little less partially baked the crust beforehand as it tends to get a little on the crispy side there at the end)

Oh I forgot to mention, lemon meringue pie is a staple of my childhood holiday dinners. My mom is awesome with some lemon meringue. And for some reason-if anyone ever knew what reason it has long since been forgotten-but for some reason my middle brother Nick has always called lemon meringue pie "spiderman pie." which is what we still call it at home. I kinda think they'd sell a bunch more of it if they called it spiderman pie officially. Marketing.

I'm not much on cream or meringue pies, but the goddamn custard was soooo goooood, it was creamy and perfect. I managed to swipe pieces of the chocolate and lemon pies before they were gone, both were very good. As with most homemade dishes, the flavors were way more pronounced than anything in a Shoney's.

And look at that thing! It's Beautiful! My problem with all three of the types of pies Rebekah made is usually texture, but her pies had a good, solid feel, something physical to wrap the tongue around. I found a little pocket of my leg to put some in.

That's it, that's all the Thanksgiving recipes that are making the list. And here I am with my plate and my goofy blond hair.

The hair is gone now, so are the leftovers. But most of these recipes are going to be making repeat appearances. Before too long I may have a custard pie with cranberry sauce and candied bacon as toppings. Porka-freaking-licious!!!!!!!

The Greatest Thing Since They Invented Girls

Okay, this was the centerpiece of Thanksgiving and one of the best things to ever happen to me.

The piece in the paper was short, so I'll reprint the whole thing. From page D2 of the Dining section of The New York Times, November 19.

Make it at Home: Candied Bacon With Whipped Cream

Honeyed, sugared bacon is not a new thing. But for dessert? Park your doubts and your diet at the door of the new Hog Pit.

When this pioneer in the meatpacking district lost its lease, the owners wasted no time in relocating to 37B West 26th Street. They also added Magda Lech's crisply shimmering bacon with a whipped cream dip to the menu. A basket of the bacon is $6.95.

The bacon was served at private parties in the old place at 22 Ninth Avenue (13th Street), which will remain open until Dec 23.

To make it at home, fry a pound of bacon until crisp. Drain and cool. In a clean skillet, melt one cup sugar and three tablespoons honey in two tablespoons water; cook on medium-high until bubbles subside and syrup turns light amber.

Turn heat to very low and add bacon, turning strips with tongs. Place strips on oiled baking sheet or parchment paper until cool, then serve with whipped cream or, better still (but too fancy for the Hog Pit), crème fraîche.

You can also buy the bacon to go: (212) 213-4871.

The look on Mac's face when I said I had candied bacon was worth every penny I spent on dinner this year. It was happy, hopeful. I couldn't wait until after dinner, so the candied bacon actually started as an appetizer, when everybody was hungry.

This shit is so delicious. The candy is crispy and very sweet, the bacon under it is, you know, bacon. And I'll come right out and say it, the fatty part of the bacon infused oil into the candy overnight, leaving those parts with a chewy-greasy-sweet thing that was one of the best combinations I've ever had in my mouth. The kind of thing your brain evolved so it could create and appreciate.

The one change I'm going to make is to add Maple-ine to the candy recipe so we'll have Maple Candied Bacon. And I'll probably whip up a batch of home cured bacon to candy. So we'll have Home Cured Maple Candied Bacon. I may just kill myself over a plate of it, my life's highest achievement realized at the tender age of 32.

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 4

B Weezy the Brilliant has been a big part of my last two Thanksgivings. She's around and brilliant the rest of the year, of course, but the Weezy Signal gets flashed a lot in the end of November. She played a big role as cook and host during Interstate Thanksgiving in '06, and last year she both cooked and sat at the hospital with me while they sewed my thumb back on.

She got some kind of rush out of watching. Whatever, I needed HELP, I'm glad she could be entertained.

So this year I insisted she write up a couple of the dishes. B is from proper Midwestern stock and can't be topped when it comes to the All American fare that Thanksgiving requires. She's so good at some of this stuff, I don't even attempt it anymore. All three of these dishes are on the 'better left to B' list.

Homemade Thanksgiving Stuffing

In her own words:

Homemade Stuffing

(All measurements are approximate)
2 loaves white sandwich bread
3/4 c. chopped celery
3/4 c. chopped white onion
6 eggs
1 t. salt
1 t. pepper
1 T. Poultry seasoning (no salt, sage stylee)
1/4 c. butter
4 cans turkey or chicken broth

Preheat oven to 350. Toast bread and tear into 1/2 inch pieces, place in large bowl. Put chopped onion and celery in a microwave safe bowl and cook until translucent. Add butter to hot veggies and stir until butter melts. Dump veggie mixture into bowl with bread pieces and add eggs, salt, pepper and poultry seasoning. Pour in 2 cans of broth and mix together. Keep adding broth until you end up with a texture similar to raw meatloaf (moist, no visible liquid, but if you squished it in your fist it would wring a little liquid out like a sponge). Once mixed, press into a greased 9 x 13 glass pan and cover with foil. Bake for 45 minutes, remove foil and bake for additional 15 minutes to brown the top.

This dish is one of those family traditions only made by my momma, because her sisters have tried and failed more than once. It runs the gamut: too dry, too runny, won't stay together, won't come out of the pan. This is a recipe for bread glue, if made correctly it should be able to be sliced and come out of the pan like a piece of cake literally. This recipe will not allow you to short-cut it. Packaged bread crumbs won't work, if you don't precook your veggies they will be crunchy, omit the eggs and it will fall apart. This dish is a simple labor of love, not hard just a long process (my job as a kid, was the official toast tear-er). When you're done though, you will never want Stove Top again. If made with veggie stock this dish is vegetarian friendly. Next time I may experiment with different breads (as long as they are the squishy sandwich type). You could also change the entire flavor by utilizing a different liquid and seasoning combo, vanilla nutmeg bread pudding, throw a little cooked sausage in and you have breakfast, some chickpeas veggie stock garlic Mediterranean delight. Sky's the limit people.

Listen to that! With the flick of a wrist it's a recipe for 'vanilla nutmeg bread pudding'. You need a Weezy in your life, trust me.

This is the stuffing. I can't really say much about it. Look at it. It was dense, moist, a little spicy, with veggie bits. It was everything you want stuffing to be. I had two servings.

Weezy's Magic Pecan Pie

If there's one thing B's known for, it's her pecan pie. She parcels it out like fine art, with only a few pie baking sessions a year, so when pecan pie time comes around the phone calls go out. My friend Shiloh is especially crazy for them. He asks for one every time he sees B.

Pecan Pie

1 c. sugar
1 c. dark syrup
1 T. flour
1/2 c. butter
1/4 t. salt
1 t. vanilla extract
3 eggs
1-1/4 c. pecan halves unsalted

Preheat oven to 425. Combine sugar, syrup, flour, butter and salt in a sauce pan and heat to a boil. Remove pan from heat and let mixture cool. Slowly add the beaten eggs and vanilla, whisking into the pan mixture. Once it is all incorporated stir in the pecans. Pour mixture into an unbaked pie shell and bake at 425 for 10 minutes and then turn oven temp down to 325 and bake for another 45-55 minutes. Pie is done when the crust is golden brown and the pie has risen around the outside edges.

My best advice for a successful pecan pie is apprenticeship. There is a lot of "boil it until it looks like this" and "it's not cool enough to add the eggs just yet" and "pull it out of the oven when it looks like this". Pecan pie to me is one of those things that is better to pass down than to make for the first time. My sister and I had seen my Granny and Momma make these pies our whole lives, but the first time she and I attempted them on our own we set her oven on fire from an over filled pie. So anyone who wants to be my soux on pie day, feel free. Shiloh will be more than happy to "clean up" any leftovers. It has also been dabbled to omit pecans for cashews (use salted, it needs it) and creating mini handheld pies in muffin tins (don't add nuts to caramel mixture, put nuts in the mini pie shells then cover with the filling). Best observation from Mr. Hull, "Hey, nuts float!"

They do, and it's weird. We had pie day a couple days ago, it was neat. I have a bunch of hand-sized pecan and cashew pies in my kitchen now. People look at them like they don't believe what they're seeing.

I'm not that crazy about pecans, so I never jumped at the pecan pie. But after making them, I can see what a nice little caramel pie it is under the bitter nuts, and I'm intrigued. I think I'm going to make one with crushed roasted hazelnuts. We'll see.

In the meantime, these things are flying out of my apartment. I'm thinking I oughta charge a fee.

Your Mom's Pumpkin Pie Recipe

THIS is my Thanksgiving pie. I could eat one myself, in two sittings at most.

Pumpkin Pie

2 eggs
1 - 15oz. can of Pumpkin
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ginger
1/4 t. cloves
1 - 12 oz. can Evaporated milk

Preheat oven to 425. Mix together all ingredients thoroughly and pour into unbaked pie shell. Bake at 425 for 15 minutes and then turn oven temp down to 350 and bake for another 45 minutes. Pie is done when crust is golden brown and filling has a firm jello consistency (jiggle the pan). Let cool to room temperature than refrigerate.

When I brought over these pies to Mr. Hull's house I told him it was his mother's recipe. After which he got excited and nostalgic, and who wouldn't, after all what's Thanksgiving without a piece of your mom's pumpkin pie. The truth is, this recipe is every body's mother's pumpkin pie. Classic as it is, and only made annually, this is the recipe on the back of every pumpkin can label and most evaporated milk labels as well. There is something to be said for tradition . . . yummy tradition. My only beef is that I think it could be a little spicier. Societal flavors have changed a little since this country's puritan roots, and I think we could stand a little more flavor from our pumpkin pies. Next time I think I will make those measuring spoons a little more rounded and throw in a 1/4 t. of nutmeg. Worst case scenario . . . the pie is richer, the pieces get smaller and there is more pie for everyone.

I couldn't agree more on the subject of nutmeg, and I would throw allspice on the list too.

I did get all confused and flushed when she said it was my mom's recipe, but on reflection I remembered watching Mom read the label. I may have gotten my fascination with the cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, allspice combo from my spice-loving Mother, who definitely would have altered the printed suggestions. Either way, it's a flawless slice of holiday family love and it makes me warm inside.

I don't have a picture the pumpkin pie itself, but you can see it in the middle of the table in this picture.

The fold-out table of dessert madness featuring pecan, pumpkin, chocolate, lemon meringue and a couple things I don't remember eating but almost certainly did.

See my slice of pumpkin? Mmmmmmmm...

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 3

Jason made it very clear from the first time we talked about Thanksgiving this year that he was going to make one of the turkeys. He and Brenda both got free turkeys from their respective grocery stores this year, a 16 pounder and an 18 pounder, so there was plenty of turkey making to go around.

I was thinking as much about the stock I wanted to make later as the big meal itself, so I wanted a mostly intact carcass. As such, I butchered one bird by removing the legs, wings and breasts but keeping everything else whole. I cut the breasts down into 2" squares and cooked the choice pieces according to the Puerco Pibil recipe that is one of my all-time favorites. It was spicy and tart, the mildly flavored turkey meat absorbing the orange juice in the marinade especially well.

I don't know if I'd suggest anyone make a turkey this way though. Cooking a turkey is a rare event and it deserves more attention than a recipe I'm willing to throw on the cheapest cut of pork. I did it that way for two reasons: it's easy, so I could move onto other things, and as a counterpoint to the traditional turkey Jason had planned. So there, if you're cooking two turkeys at once for some reason, pibil one of them. Otherwise, go with Jason's plan.

Jason Bailey's Turkey Revolution

Because Jason Bailey has officially figured out the WORLD'S EASIEST TURKEY RECIPE. This is a revolution in cooking big birds, and it's gone by right under my nose because I'm too goddamn snobby and Amish to ever consider something like Reynold's Oven Bags (Turkey Size).

Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, Jason came over and made a brine for the bird. We pulled off the plastic, put the organs and neck bone into my stock bag and washed him off. Then Jason made the brine. Here's the recipe as he emailed it to me.

TURKEY BRINE

12-14 lb turkey

1 cup kosher salt or sea salt

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 quarts water

Combine water, salt, sugar, and any other desired spices to 6 quart pot over high heat until dissolved.
Let return to room temperature.
Pour over thawed turkey in clean bucket.

Refrigerate in bucket for 12-18 hours.
Cook turkey in oven turkey bag as directed.

A third grader could have written this recipe. Love it. We used a few whole allspice and cloves as our 'other desired spices'. And that was it. I spent the next two hours butchering the other turkey and chopping up onions and peppers for it, while Jason's bird relaxed in the fridge making fun of me.

The next day I followed the instructions of the back of the box for the oven bag.

They are: heat oven, dust bag with flour, insert turkey, cut steam holes, cook for 2 1/2 hours.

2 1/2 HOURS! That's nothing!

And it worked! I was amazed! I carried around an exclamation point sign!

The bird was delicious, crispy on top but soft and juicy all the way through. The bag also stored all of the juices in it, so I had more than enough pan business for a gravy. I can't say enough about how good this bird was, especially for how easy the process was. A brine is a good idea for a 16 lb piece of meat, and this one complimented the bird well, keeping it juicy without overwhelming the flavor of the turkey at all. I can't tell you if the allspice and clove made it through, I was too busy shoveling forkfuls of potato and cranberry sauce to notice.

Amber with the one leg that survived whole. Amber likes roasted meat. I like girls that make faces about roasted meat.

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 2

I'm trying to figure out what to write for post 2, which right now consists of talking myself out of writing up the turkey gravy. There was a recipe in the Times section, but I didn't use it. That's the problem. Gravy is it's own post, but it has so much to do with timing, I can't figure out how to write instructions. So I'll put it off!

Instead, here's two recipes from page D8 of The New York Times Dining In section from Wednesday, November 19.

Brussels Sprouts with Mustard, Apples and Caraway

These recipes have real fancy-assed modern names, in keeping with the paper's image as the print version of Mrs. Astor. And did you know it's Brussels Sprouts, not brussel sprouts? Even the blog knows it, the singular version and the lower-case plural version are both coming up wrong in the spell checker. Somewhere, sometime, somebody spent part of their workday double checking the difference in multiple dictionaries, noting it in some big network file, and telling whatever spell check program Google uses that there is only one correct way to write an American English notation of this particular little veggie, and that it is Brussels sprout.

Anyway, nobody in my family ever cooked Brussels sprouts. Anton likes them though, he likes pretty much anything green. They've taken some getting used to for me, but they go really good with sour sauces and this recipe had both mustard and vinegar. Those are dice I'll roll.

This is the recipe as printed.

Ingredients

2 lbs Brussels sprouts
4 tbl unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced onion (1 medium)
Salt
2 lbs Golden or Red Delicious apples (about 6)
3/4 cup apple juice
2 tsp Dijon Mustard (do not use grainy mustard)
3 shallots, chopped fine (1 cup)
1 tbl caraway seeds
2 tsp apple cider vinegar

1. Wash Brussels sprouts and trim roots. Separate leaves and place them in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate. (Can be completed the day before.)

2. Warm a large sauté pan over medium heat. Melt 2 tablespoons butter, then add onions and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until onions are soft, about 15 minutes.

3. Peel, core and slice 5 apples. Add to pan with onions. Cook on medium heat, stirring occasionally, until apples soften and begin to break apart, about 20 minutes. Add apple juice and simmer for 10 minutes. Add mustard and remove from heat.

4. Put apple-onion mixture in a blender or food processor and pulse 6 to 8 times until smooth. Keep warm.

5. Warm a very large sauté pan over medium heat. Melt remaining 2 tablespoons butter, then add shallots. Cook for 5 minutes, until shallots are soft and translucent. Stir in caraway seeds. Add Brussels sprout leaves and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, for 10 minutes. Add vinegar and continue cooking until leaves are just tender, about 5 more minutes. Season with salt to taste. Julienne remaining apple with skin on.

6. Spoon apple-mustard purée onto a warmed serving platter. Pile sautéed Brussels sprouts on purée. Sprinkle julienned apple on top. Serve immediately.

Jesus, it's almost as tiring to type as it was to make. I have a number of issues with this recipe, starting with all the parenthesis. One per recipe, max, otherwise you aren't a good enough writer to be in the Times the week before Thanksgiving. Also, too many accented French é's, I have to stop and type out a specific key combination that I have to look up every time. Too much.

Besides that, it takes an hour, with specific steps every 10 minutes and a lot of chopping in between. Low marks for being user-friendly.

As for the eating, the sprouts were great. The caraway seeds added a little something I don't usually taste, I'm never going to complain about shallots, and the vinegar is what makes the sprouts palatable. The apple-onion mix underneath didn't do much for the dish in my opinion.

That mixture was also what took up most of the time, so that settles it. I'll make this dish again, but skip straight from Step 1 to Step 5.

Perfectly good sprouts, drowning in an unnecessary, odd flavored hot apple sauce.

The first Times dish gets a B-.

Savoy Cabbage Slaw with Applesauce Vinaigrette and Mustard Seeds

Another weird title. It's slaw, for chrissakes.

I thought this might be a good cold match for the hot sprouts. A strong flavored greed with apples and mustard. How could it go wrong?

This is the recipe as printed, same page as the last one.

For the vinaigrette:

1 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbl apple cider vinegar
1 tbl applesauce
1/3 cup olive oil

For the salad:

4 cups savoy cabbage, sliced as thinly as possible
1 large bunch red radishes
3 or 4 Granny Smith apples
1 lemon, juiced
1 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 cup walnuts, toasted and chopped
Salt and black pepper to taste

1. Make vinaigrette: In a bowl, mix together mustard, salt, vinegar and applesauce. Slowly whisk in olive oil a little at a time until dressing emulsifies. Set aside.

2. Make salad: Put cabbage in a large bowl. Using the shredding blade of a food processor or box grater, shred radishes until you have 1 cup. Add to bowl.

3. Core apples and shred in food processor or with box grater until you have 2 cups. Put shredded apple into a bowl filled with lemon juice and 2 cups water, to prevent apple from browning.

4. When ready to serve, gently squeeze water from apple, add to cabbage and toss slaw with vinaigrette. Add mustard seeds and toss again. Sprinkle walnuts on top of slaw. Season with salt and pepper.

This is pretty straightforward stuff, I'm usually good with visualizing the outcome of a simple recipe. Even after making it I had high hopes, but this was the dullest slaw in creation. Instead of making a choice between sweet or sour, this slaw went with watery and bland. I'd like to take the blame, but I can't.

The olive oil and applesauce in the dressing spread the vinegar and mustard out so far they lost their bite. The apples and radishes in the salad were spread so thin by the cabbage that they weren't distinctive at all. It was a big bowl of boring.

There's a chance this slaw could be saved by drastically reducing the cabbage, by as much as half, and eliminating the applesauce from the vinaigrette. And doubling the mustard seeds. And toasting them. You'd have to take the word Applesauce out of the title, but you'd get to add Toasted!

I doubt I'll ever make the dish again to find out. Grade: C.

That's the slaw, in it's proper position, totally overshadowed. My trusty big white bowl had garlic mashed potatoes made by Rebekah's brother Neal. They were delicious, as you'd reasonably expect garlic mashed potatoes to be. He roasted the garlic in it's skin and used heavy cream Amy had left over, they were gooooooood.

Thanksgiving Super-Blog Part 1

I don't know where you live, but it's freaking winter in New York. There are still a handful of nice days to go around, but it's dark at 4:30 and that means winter to me.

For the record, I hate winter. I have a whole new bed situation going on right now too, I sleep in a warm cloud, and it's hard to get out for anything but really hot coffee. The one upside to winter is the cooking bug that bites when the thermometer drops, and the holiday Americans codify that bug with: Thanksgiving.

I hate winter, but I love Thanksgiving. It's like a grand entrance gate to months and months of chilis and pibils and pies and huge pans of roasted meat. The last two years I've hosted a blow-out for Thanksgiving and it was actually the opening salvo of this blog in '06 when family and friends converged on my last New Jersey apartment for the biggest single meal I've ever helmed.

Last year Thanksgiving was great, but the event was marred when I nearly cut my thumb off making tequila drinks later that night. Six stitches and twelve months later, I haven't cut myself in the kitchen since, an anniversary worth commemorating with, well, how about a shot of tequila!

This year would be no different. There is quite a group of Kansicans here now, more of us than ever before, and we planned a proper Midwest Thanksgiving to see out '08. I made too much food by myself, and then we added dishes by Brenda, Jason, Rebekah and her brother Neal to the table. Abundance. Woo-hoo!

This year I decided to limit myself to dishes from the previous week's Thanksgiving themed Dining In section of The New York Times. I figured that would keep me from digging through mounds of cookbooks and magazines until 10 pm the night before, and it would bring some interesting new things to the table. Plus, you know, added pressure of making something right the first time. Whatever.

I did make a couple of traditional dishes, broccoli salad and candied yams. We are Kansans, after all, and some things really can't be improved on.

And I made one thing from a cookbook. I think that's all the deviations from the plan, except the turkeys, but one of those recipes wasn't mine and the other one's already on the blog as a pork dish. There's always a thing.

Cranberry Sauce

I don't like cranberry sauce, or at least I had it in my mind that I didn't. At the last minute Weezy found out she couldn't get fresh cranberries, meaning we would be left with the canned business as our only option. I can't really let that slide, even if I don't like the crap.

So I bought a bag of fresh berries at the store and made the recipe on page 646-647 of The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. This is the recipe as printed.

Ingredients

1 cup sugar
3/4 cup water
1 tsp salt
1 (12 oz) bag fresh cranberries

Bring the sugar, water, and salt to a boil in a medium nonreactive saucepan (stainless steel, nonstick, or enameled) over medium heat, stirring occasionally to help dissolve the sugar. Stir in the cranberries and simmer until slightly thickened and the berries begin to pop, about 10 minutes. Cool to room temperature before serving, about 1 hour.

I made two changes to this recipe:

I bought a $7 bottle of 100% cranberry juice and substituted half the water with it. I don't know how much difference that made, I think some, and I think it was positive. I don't know if it was $7 positive, but I'm not a good judge of that kind of stuff. It was worth it to me.

Also, I ground up a little of my pumpkin pie spice mix, leaning on the experience of my spiced blackberry-grape jam of last spring. It usually consists of cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and allspice, mixed to taste but always heavy on the cinnamon. I kept the spicing of the cranberry sauce light.

I was in a frenzy of last minute preparations when this dish was being mixed up, so I don't know how solidly I followed the time recommendations. Didn't matter. My mindset on cranberry sauce changed in one spoonful.

The tart sauce had gelled by the time dinner was served, but the actual cranberries were the highlight of the dish; they popped in your mouth like fruity little popcorn kernels. I'll probably experiment with more juice and less sugar, maybe adding a little pectin to help it solidify if it needs it. But the cooking process changed the fruit substantially, breaking it down and making it sweeter, easier to eat, and all around more welcoming.

It's hard to see how glittery this dish was in the crappy ass picture, but check out the color!

Candied Yams

My Thanksgiving posts from two years ago mentioned that I made candied yams, but I didn't post a recipe because there wasn't anything special about them. I promised I'd get around to it, so, here we go.

These yams weren't anything special either, but they were great and I screwed up one thing that turned out good anyway. Victory.

First, take a bag of yams. Peel them, chop them up and boil them until they're a little more than half cooked. Getting soft, but not edible yet.

Drain the potatoes and put them in a baking dish. Mix in a couple spoonfuls of butter, brown sugar to taste and the aforementioned pumpkin pie spice. I added about a cup of raisins, because I like raisins.

The brown sugar is one thing that varies wildly: everybody uses it, but how much depends on how candied you like your yams. I usually get a bag of potatoes, about 5 lbs, and use up to 1/2 cup of sugar. My yams are mighty candied.

Cover and bake at 350° for a half-hour. The yams should be good and gooey by then if you boiled them beforehand.

The mistake I made came in the end, or, it should have. Usually I pull the yams out when they're done, throw the marshmallows on top and broil them for a couple minutes until they're crispy on top. This time I put them on before the dish went in the oven, so they baked along with everything else, melting down over the yams.

This is where it starts to seem like a good idea to add quotation marks to the word "mistake". The marshmallows melted down and bound the potatoes like, I don't know, a sticky blanket. I didn't miss the crispy marshmallows on top, and the crispy marshmallows on top are my favorite part.

A gooey red marshmallow sugar blanket of loooooooooooove.