Cream Scones & Happy Mother's Day!

I have had several friends tell me that I need to write a post on my cream scones. Today seems like a good day to do it. It's Mother's Day. I make breakfast for my mother every year and of all the things I make, cream scones are her favorite. On a day when I would go the extra mile and make homemade Danish, or an elaborate coffee cake, she requests the easiest thing of all the baked goods I make.

There is something about these scones—I have to agree that they are special. People who have declared to me that they don't like scones, like these. I wish that I could say that they are "my" scones, but I can't. I can't even claim to have adapted them too much from the original recipe. I came across the cream scone recipe because of a cream biscuit recipe. When I worked at The American Restaurant we occasionally made little mini biscuits to stuff with various savory things as part of an hors d'oeuvres/appetizer spread. The biscuits were a simple cream biscuit from Marion Cunningham's The Breakfast Book. Cunningham credits James Beard's cooking classes with the original recipe and says the biscuits are "superior" and that "they are so ridiculously simple" that "no student ever failed to make good ones". And it's true. At the restaurant, we could give the task of making these biscuits to the greenest of cooks and they would turn out well.

A few pages over from the recipe for Cream Biscuits in Cunningham's book is a recipe for Dried Fruit Cream Scones. The recipes are nearly identical. Having had such good experience with the biscuits, it seemed a no-brainer to try the scones. They too are superior. While any well-made scone is good when hot from the oven, these scones are good even after they have been sitting around for a while. I would describe them as more cake-like than "flaky"—there is no butter in the recipe to create the hallmark flakes of traditional biscuits or scones, but I don't miss that because these are so soft and tender.

Like the biscuits, the scones turn out well even in the hands of an unskilled baker. I remember one time observing a couple of novice bakers, to whom I had handed off the recipe, making up a large batch. As I watched, my heart sank. They were fairly enthusiastic with their kneading and handling of the dough. I thought that if the scones were ever going to turn out badly, that this would be the time. But they were still very good. Anyone who knows much about baking and pastry knows that over-handling of a dough will produce leaden or tough results. But not these scones. I don't recommend over-working the dough—like any pastry they are best when given a light touch—but honestly, even if you have never made a scone or a biscuit before, you can make these.

A few years ago I was in the habit of making cream scones as an occasional mid-morning pick-me-up for my co-workers. Everyone loved them, but whenever I offered to share the recipe I was met with statements like, "Oh, there is no way I could make them and have them turn out like yours do." Then, one year for Christmas, I made up small gift bags of the dry mix and gave them as presents along with the recipe. Over and over I heard back enthusiastic reports of success.

The original recipe is for an all dried fruit scone, but I almost always make mine with half dark or white chocolate. I made dried tart cherry-chocolate chip for my mother this morning. Another favorite combination is dried apricot-white chocolate. Katrina at Baking & Boys has made them with toffee, chocolate and almonds. Give them a try and you will soon come up with your own favorite versions.

Cream Scones

(adapted from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham)

2 c. all-purpose flour
1 T. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
1/4 c. sugar
3/4 c. “mix-ins”, see below
1 ¼ c. heavy cream (no substitutions), plus more for brushing
Turbinado sugar for sprinkling

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar in a bowl. Whisk to blend well. Add the “mix-ins”.  Stir the dry ingredients with a rubber spatula while pouring in the cream, continuing to stir until a soft, sticky dough is formed.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead briefly (5 or 6 times).

Pat the dough into a circle 3/4-to 1-inch thick.

Cut the circle into 8 wedges and place the wedges an inch or so apart on an un-greased or parchment-lined baking sheet. Brush each scone with some cream and sprinkle generously with the raw sugar.

Bake at 425°until golden brown and springy to the touch—about 15 minutes.

“Mix-ins”: dried fruits, nuts and chocolate bits. Some favorite combinations—
         • Dried tart cherries with golden raisins
         • Chocolate chips
         • White chocolate chunks with quartered dried apricots
         • Chocolate chips with dried cranberries or tart cherries
         • 1/2 c. dried currants along with the zest of one orange

Notes:  

• For a smaller scone, divide the dough half and form two rounds.  Cut each round into 6 wedges.
• If your oven has very strong bottom heat, either bake these in the upper third of the oven…or use and insulated baking pan (or two pans stacked together).  
• To work ahead...or simply have the option to bake one or two at a time...mix and form the scones, then place the pan in the freezer until the scones are frozen solid.  Transfer to freezer bags.  To bake, place the scone(s) on an appropriate-sized baking sheet and bake in a preheated 375-degree oven until golden brown and springy to the touch...about 25 minutes.  The frozen, unbaked scones will keep in the freezer for 6 weeks.

Printable Version

Market Inspirations—Spinach & Spring Onion Tart

Last night I was able to bring home a round of pâte brisée left over from the class I had taught. (Pâte brisée is the French equivalent of American pie dough—similar in most respects, but made with all butter.) As I drove home I remembered the spinach and spring onions that I still had from my Saturday trip to the market and decided that I would make them into a tart for dinner tonight. (If it seems strange that I was thinking about my next night's dinner already, it doesn't seem strange to me. Not only do I love to cook, I love to eat. I'm frequently thinking about what I will be eating next....)

I had wanted to write my next post on how to make pâte brisée, but I was not able to get enough good pictures of the process to make it very instructive. So I will save that for another time and instead share the recipe for the tart that I made with last night's dough.

Even if I hadn't brought some dough home from my class, I would have been able to make this tart for dinner tonight—I always keep pâte brisée on hand in my freezer. It's a good habit to get into. Pâte brisée freezes without any loss of quality and it thaws quickly—sitting out on the counter for a couple of hours or overnight in the refrigerator. If you keep it on hand it gives you a fantastic "blank canvas" upon which you can improvise dinner using your farmers' market finds.

This particular tart is a "free-form" tart (no tart pan required—just a cookie sheet)—also known as a galette or a crostata. To prepare a 10- to 11-inch tart you will need a batch of all-butter pie dough (pâte brisée) that weighs about 400 grams (14 oz.). Roll the dough out into a 15- to 16-inch round and place on a parchment lined baking sheet. Let the dough rest in the refrigerator while you prepare your filling.

You can fill your tart with any number of seasonal ingredients as long as they are pre-cooked. Because of the way the tart will be formed, you don't have the luxury of being able to pre-bake the crust. Pre-baking (or "blind baking") a crust is an almost foolproof method for obtaining a crisp bottom crust. Since you can't blind bake the crust for a free form tart, you need to make sure that the ingredients that you fill the tart with are not watery and will not produce more water while the tart is baking. Since vegetables (and fruits) release water as they cook, any vegetable or fruit that you put in the tart must be cooked first.

Underneath the main vegetable I like to have a creamy base of some kind. Most often I use a soft creamy cheese (herbed goat cheese, for example), but you could also create a soft bed with wilted leeks or onions cooked until they are almost a purée. This base provides yet another barrier to any liquid coming off of the vegetables that might make the crust soggy and it also provides a kind of "glue" to hold the vegetables in place.

Once you have decided on your base and your main vegetable, you can add herbs, olives, capers, additional cheeses, etc. As you are building your tart, keep in mind that a free from tart will be relatively flat. Don't pile up the filling too much. The tart should only be about an inch high prior to baking.

Finally, to make sure that the tart will have a nice crisp bottom crust, I bake the tart with the pan set directly onto a preheated baking stone. If you don't have a baking stone, place the pan with your tart on the lowest rack in your oven.

The tart I made tonight takes a large part if it's inspiration from a fabulous Swiss Chard tart in Suzanne Goin's book Sunday Suppers at Lucques. One of the big differences between my tart and hers is the creamy ricotta base underneath the vegetables. Her tart uses a combination of crème fraiche and whole milk ricotta, bound with an egg yolk. The final texture of this is not as creamy as I would like—due, I think, to the presence of the egg yolk that is subjected to the high heat required to set the crust. Instead I make a creamy base that is similar to one I saw André Soltner make many years ago as a base for Tarte Flambée (a traditional bacon and onion pizza from Alsace) . His base of ricotta and puréed cottage cheese is bound with a little flour and oil which results in a final texture after baking that is thick and creamy.

I was very happy with the way the tart turned out. I hope you will give it (or one of your own design) a try.

Spinach, Spring Onion & Goat Cheese Tart

1 recipe Pâte Brisée (see below)
1 T. olive oil
1 T. butter
1 bunch spring onions (white and a few inches of the green), thinly sliced
1 T. picked thyme, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
9 to 10 oz. stemmed spinach, washed (Cook the spinach in the water clinging to the leaves in a covered pot. When the leaves have wilted, remove from the heat and cool. Squeeze out the excess liquid and roughly chop.)
2/3 c. Whole milk ricotta cheese
1/3 c. cottage cheese
1 T. olive oil
2 t. flour
Salt, Pepper & nutmeg
4 oz. goat cheese, crumbled 

To roll out the dough, let it warm up for a moment or two at room temperature. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface into a circle that is about 1/8-inch thick and is about 15 to 16 inches across. Brush off the excess flour. Trim any ragged or uneven edges if you like. Transfer the dough to a parchment lined baking sheet. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Heat the olive oil and butter in a sauté pan set over medium heat. Add the spring onions, thyme, and garlic along with a pinch of salt. Cook gently until the onions are tender and translucent. Remove from the heat and add the chopped spinach, tossing to coat. Taste & correct the seasoning with salt & pepper. Allow the mixture to cool to room temperature.

Place the ricotta and cottage cheese in the food processor and process until it is smooth. Add the oil & flour and process to combine. Season to taste with salt, pepper and a pinch of nutmeg.

Spread the cheese mixture in a circle in the center of the chilled pâte brisée, leaving a 2-inch border of dough. Toss the goat cheese with the spinach mixture and scatter this over the ricotta mixture . Pull up the edges of the crust and gently flip them over the filling to form a wide, rustic edge. Pleat the dough as necessary, pressing lightly into place.

Bake the tart in a 400° oven on the lowest rack (or in the middle with the sheet pan sitting directly on a preheated baking stone). Bake until the cheese is bubbling and the crust is crisp and golden brown—about 35 minutes. Slide the tart (with the parchment) onto a rack and let rest for 5 minutes (or cool until just tepid) before serving.

Tart serves 4 as an entrée, or 8 as an appetizer with a small salad.

Pâte Brisée (Short Crust Pastry)

1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour (200g)
1/2 t. salt
10 1/2 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces (150g)
1/4 to 1/3 c. ice water

Combine the flour and the salt in a medium-sized bowl. Rub the butter into the flour until the butter is in small pea-sized pieces. Drizzle 3 T. ice water over the flour/butter mixture. Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump, adding more water if necessary. Turn the dough out onto a counter and form into a mound. Using the heel of your hand, gradually push all of the dough away from you in short forward strokes, flattening out the lumps. Continue until all of the dough is flat. Using a bench scraper, scrape the dough off the counter, forming it into a single clump as you do. Form the finished dough into a thick disk. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

Here's a close up view of a slice to show the nice crisp crust (even in the center) when the tart is built and baked properly:

 Printable Version

Navigating the Farmers' Market

This morning at the market while I was waiting for Thane Palmberg to pull some spring onions out of his truck for me, two young women approached his stand and pointed to the baskets of spinach and asked what kind of "leaves" they were. Without stopping to consider their choice of words, I told them they were spinach.  Since Thane had come back with the spring onions I turned my attention to him and we continued our conversation.

Thane had brought nettles to the market today. When I said "You're growing nettles?" he responded wryly, "Well, I can't say that I'm really growing them...". Thane, who grows everything he sells, was referring to the fact that stinging nettles are a weed. For those unfamiliar with them, they are a green that is prized by foragers and chefs. They must be cooked to be eaten (I shudder to think what they would do to you if you ate them raw). If you have ever run into a patch of stinging nettles, you will remember it. I don't recall if the stings leave welts, but you do feel it for a while. I don't believe I have ever eaten them and the only time I ever experienced them as a plant was in Normandy while picking raspberries. I must have managed to avoid most of them, because it is the idyllic scene among the raspberry bushes that is most vivid in my memory. Thane gave me some to try. You might be able to occasionally find some on the menu at Lydia's Restaurant.

Anyway, while I was talking to him about nettles (and spinach and chard and rhubarb...) my mom was telling the two young women that the spinach at this stand was really good. My mom told me later that they seemed very excited to be there. They had confided that this was their first time at the farmers' market.  She then told me that she had so badly wanted to take them under her wing and coach them a bit. I had noticed as we left that they had purchased some commercial carrots and celery and I had not thought much about it other than that it was too bad when there was so much good, local stuff to be had. I guess they really did need some assistance. I had missed it, but my mother, who can be much more observant than I am when it comes to people, had not.

Of course I really don't know if those women needed, or would have even wanted, some help this morning. I tend to be too shy to speak up anyway. In any case it's too late to give them any pointers now.  But the situation made me think that there might be some people out there who would appreciate a little advice on how to get the most out of their farmers' market.

The market that I frequent is located in the old City Market in downtown Kansas City and most of my comments will apply specifically to that market. But don't stop reading if that's not your market. Although markets are unique, they have much in common.

The women that I saw this morning had most likely fallen into the trap of thinking that everything at the farmers' market is farm fresh produce. This is unfortunately not true. At my market there is a perimeter of old buildings that house permanent retail tenants, among them several "green grocers". As a newcomer to the market, these vendors are the first you will see and I really recommend that you pass them up until you see what else the market has to offer. Even if you are familiar with your market, it is always a good idea to make a quick pass through the market before buying anything so that you will know everything that is available on a given day. You will generally make the wisest purchases this way.

I suppose there is nothing wrong with purchasing produce from the grocers around the perimeter as long as you understand what you are getting. What you are getting is the same produce that you would get at your neighborhood grocery store in the suburbs. In some cases you will get a better price because these vendors know that they can move produce quickly on the weekend and will have purchased produce that another grocer would have passed over since it would go bad before it could be moved off of their shelves. Most of the time you will have to use anything purchased from these vendors very quickly because it is ready to use (sometimes past ready) and you may still have a lot of loss. The best time to buy things from them is during the height of a season when there is natural abundance of something that doesn't grow in the Midwest—Bing Cherries for example, in the middle of June.

One of the great things about the City Market is that the perimeter of the market includes a wide variety of ethnic food and other interesting stores where you can purchase ingredients to compliment the farm fresh produce that you will be getting from the farmers. There is also a coffee shop (a market essential as far as I am concerned) where you can sit down and catch up with a friend.

Once you have passed through the perimeter you will see that there are three long aisles underneath permanent open-air structures where the remaining vendors have set up their stalls. In addition to the produce stalls there are stalls selling plants, baked goods and craft items. I am most concerned here with discussing how to navigate the produce stalls, because even here, there is no guarantee that what you buy will have been grown by the person selling to you. Market managers are becoming more and more diligent about visiting the farms of their vendors to verify that foods advertised as locally grown are indeed local, but as with anything, you will need to make an effort yourself to make sure that you are getting farm fresh produce, direct from the grower, if that is what you came to the market to get.

Some of the sellers have grown everything they sell, others supplement some of what they grow themselves with things purchased from farm auctions. Some occasionally have items from a neighbor grower who for one reason or another is not at this market. Everything ought to be grown within a specified distance of the market, but this doesn't always hold true. Here are things to look for:

• Avoid any stall that is selling something that is out of season (sweet corn in April for example) or something that never grows in your region (bananas or pineapples in Missouri)

• Avoid vendors who can't answer basic questions about what they have supposedly grown. I remember one time asking a vendor what variety of potato they were selling. The response was a bored "I dunno." A grower will be able to speak knowledgeably about their produce.

• I find that growers and farmers that are really growing what they are selling are very proud of and often excited about what they have. They will be willing to talk to you about it. When they handle their produce, they will handle it with care and respect.

• There are a few stalls at my market that each week have the exact same items as each other in the exact same kind of containers. I'm not sure what this indicates, but it looks suspicious to me. Since these vendors also occasionally sell marginally out of season items. I avoid them. Trust your gut. If something looks off, shop somewhere else, there are many real growers with beautiful stuff.

Some of you who follow my blog may be wondering now about my willingness to purchase strawberries in early April when they usually don't come into the market until mid-May. There are a couple of reasons for this. First, I could tell by the way these berries looked, felt and smelled (and I probably could have tasted one if I had asked) that they had not been shipped in from California. In addition, when I talked to the farmer, he told me all about them. They were new this year for him. He had planted ever-bearing strawberries and so hoped to have them all summer. Right now the price was kind of high because of all the heat he was having to pump into his green house to get them to produce. So, he was honest with me about how he was growing them. Would I rather have field grown berries? Of course.  But when the stores are full of the overly large—often flavorless—strawberries from California, I'll take a tender, local berry that has been grown with care in a hot house any day.

Later in the season there will be vendors at my market who are selling local peaches. Most of these sellers are not growers. They are people who make the trip each week to the many orchards in the surrounding areas of Missouri where the peaches are ripe and ready for the market. This is an instance where I am not too bothered that these are not being sold to me by the grower. These peaches are tree-ripened and fabulous—and they are local. But, if you do want to make sure that you purchase peaches from the grower, there are several farmers that have a few fruit trees and sell peaches in addition to their other crops.

You will probably have noticed that much of what I know about my market I know because I have been going week after week, year after year. The growers recognize me and I have a history with many of them—if not by name, certainly by sight. Markets are easiest to navigate if you are familiar with them. So get to know your market. Also, become familiar with the rhythms of the growing season and what grows in your area so you will know if something is out of place. You will occasionally make "mistakes" with your purchases. But how bad can a "mistake" be when it results in some tasty food? The benefit is that you will eventually be bringing home things that were mostly grown in your region. And you will have a connection with the people who are growing it.

After all this, you may be wondering what I brought home this week. For the most part I purchased the things I expected to be able to get: asparagus, lettuce, spring onions, spinach and strawberries. There have been morels now for a couple of weeks, but I live with someone who doesn't care for them and they are just too expensive to buy if you don't love them. But that's OK because I also found the first beets! I almost missed them. The grower hadn't set them out yet when I made my first pass through the market. I spotted them on my way out. They were next to a bunch of beautiful baby carrots. I exerted great will power and didn't buy the carrots. So it begins, the battle every week to restrain myself from purchasing far more than we can possibly consume in a week.   Even if the weather is still a little too cool for the first of May, the market is truly warming up.....

A Versatile Grain Pilaf

I taught a class this week called "Simple Suppers." One of the things that I wanted to teach when I proposed this class was how to make a grain pilaf that is essentially a one dish meal. We are hearing so much about whole grains and how Americans really need to incorporate more whole grains in their diets. A main course pilaf is a great way to do just that.

A pilaf is a grain that has been prepared in a very specific way. If a grain has been cooked using the "pilaf method", it has been sautéed in some butter, oil or other fat before the liquid is added. Frequently onions and possibly some garlic or spices are cooked in the fat before adding the grain. Grains will vary in the amount of liquid that they require and in the length of time that they will need to cook (this information can be found on the box or the bulk bin), but the basic method will remain the same.

The word pilaf is most often applied to rice dishes, but almost any grain can be cooked using the pilaf method. Some examples include quinoa, bulgur, pearled barley, farro, spelt, and wheat berries. Once you learn how to make a grain pilaf, you will be ready to create all kinds of interesting, satisfying and nutritious, grain-based entrées.

To make any grain into a pilaf:  First, cook some onion (use whatever kind you like—white, yellow, red, shallots, spring onions, or green onions) in a generous amount (at least 2 T. for a cup of your chosen grain) of olive oil or butter. After the onion is tender, add garlic and any spices that you are using—cumin, coriander, fennel seed, paprika, curry, chili powder, turmeric, allspice, ginger, cinnamon, etc.—and cook until fragrant. Add the grain (rinsed, if necessary) and cook for a minute or two to coat the grain in the fat and get it hot. Add the liquid (water or stock) and salt and bring to a full boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook, covered, until tender—grains vary from 12 to 15 minutes cooking time for quinoa or bulgur, to a couple of hours for wheat berries. When the grain is tender, remove it from the heat and allow it to sit, still covered, for 5 minutes.  The grain will continue to absorb any remaining liquid as it rests.

You could serve your grain pilaf as is as a side dish.  But you can also think of your pilaf at this point as a blank canvas for all kinds of additions and garnishes.  It can become the star of the meal instead of just the supporting player.

To almost any pilaf, I like to add a dried fruit of some kind—I enjoy the sweetness and chewy texture that this contributes. Add the fruit by scattering it over the surface of the finished pilaf while it rests.  This will help the fruit to soften a bit. I think sundried tomatoes also fall into this sweet-chewy category and can be added in the same way. If you want to go in the chewy-salty direction, olives can be added to the final dish.  Whether you are adding dried fruit, sundried tomatoes, olives or some combination of these, aim for about 1/3 to 1/2 cup for every cup of raw grain.

I also like to add about 3 cups of a cooked vegetable of some kind—cooked beans, blanched, sautéed or roasted vegetables, wilted greens, etc.  If you want to add roasted vegetables, think about the fact that roasting shrinks vegetables, so start with a volume of prepared, raw vegetables that is about twice the volume that you want to end with.  So, for example, if you want to end up with 3 cups of roasted vegetables, start with 5 or 6 cups raw vegetables. If you are going to serve the pilaf hot (as opposed to turning it into a room temperature or cold salad-type dish), any vegetable you add should also be hot. If you are blanching or sautéing the added vegetables, do this while the pilaf rests. Roasted vegetables can be timed so they are finished when the pilaf is, or they can be cooked ahead and reheated in the oven.

Nuts are another favorite addition—not only for flavor, but for texture. Good choices include pine nuts, pecans, walnuts, almonds and pistachios. Always toast the nuts (350° oven, until golden and fragrant) before adding them. Toasting nuts deepens their flavors and in some cases gives them a more delicate crunch.  As with the dried fruit, I add 1/3 to 1/2 cup to the basic recipe.

Don't overlook the addition of fresh herbs--they add loads of flavor. Herbs like rosemary, sage, winter savory and thyme can be added to the pilaf with the onions and spices.  Herbs like mint, parsley, basil, cilantro and dill are better added at the end with the vegetables and nuts.

When your pilaf is finished, taste it. Correct the salt and pepper. Don't be afraid to add some lemon or garlic if the flavor seems flat or olive oil if the pilaf seems dry. I like to serve pilafs with a slice of cheese or a little yogurt.

For my class, I planned to teach a bulgur pilaf.  Bulgur is a grain that is easy to like--it has interesting texture without being too chewy and it cooks quickly, making it great for a spur of the moment or weeknight meal.  Since the class was to have a seasonal theme, I had planned to use asparagus as the main vegetable addition—but I wasn't particularly thrilled with this idea because I already had an asparagus dish in the class. Then, while reading up on grain pilafs, I ran across a bulgur and spinach pilaf at 101 cookbooks.  I have not made this recipe, but it looks excellent.  In any case, I thought the use of wilted spinach as a vegetable addition was inspired.  Spinach is also a seasonal addition.  In fact, I already had some on hand from my Saturday trip to the market:

Once I had settled on the spinach, the remaining ingredients fell into place.  Chickpeas are good with bulgur and they are also a traditional Spanish and Mediterranean accompaniment for spinach.  Other flavors that are good with these two ingredients are cumin and mint.  If you are not crazy about mint, dill would also be a good choice.  With the texture that the chickpeas provide,  you don't necessarily need a nut, but I love them, so I decided to add some toasted walnuts.  Pistachios would have been good too (and colorful).  Finally, I added golden raisins.  I also really like the idea of dried apricots with the bulgur and walnuts, so when I made the dish again last night, I made it with the apricots.  It is nice either way.  The whole idea is to make a pilaf that pleases you.  A good friend told me that she made this recipe with Swiss Chard, Currants and Almonds.

I could continue at length about possible combinations--there are so many different directions you can go when putting together a grain pilaf.  You could change this recipe by using quinoa instead of bulgur.  If I had chosen to make a bulgur pilaf with asparagus, I might have then included some roasted artichokes and most certainly would have added some blanched English peas (instead of chickpeas).  I might have added some thyme and fennel seed to the cooking onions and would have finished the pilaf with parsley, mint and pine nuts...and maybe some lemon zest. 

If you need some ideas, recipes for grain based entrées are becoming more and more common and are readily found on-line.  A few years ago Gourmet published a barley pilaf-based salad with roasted summer vegetables that has become one of my favorites.  This past March, Food & Wine ran an article, "Amazing Grains", that included basic pilaf instructions along with a couple of recipes using this basic pilaf.  If you are completely new to the world of grains, Deborah Madison has an extensive and user friendly section on grains in her book Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone.   Madison even gives pointers on which grains are the friendliest for people who are not used to eating whole grains. 

Someone told me recently that people would eat more "healthy" food if it could be made to taste good.  Well, this pilaf tastes really good.

Bulgur Pilaf with Chickpeas & Spinach 

Pilaf:

2 T. olive oil

3 or 4 spring onions, including some of the green, sliced--keep the white & green separate
1 fat clove garlic, minced
kosher salt
1/2 t. ground cumin
1 c. (6 oz.) medium bulgur, rinsed and drained
1 1/4 c. water

Additions/Garnish:
1/2 c. julienned dried apricots or golden raisins
2 T. olive oil
pinch hot pepper flakes
1 15-oz. can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
10 oz. stemmed spinach, washed (Cook the spinach in the water clinging to the leaves in a covered pot. When the leaves have wilted, remove from the heat and cool. Squeeze out the excess liquid and roughly chop.)
1/4 c. mint chiffonade
1/2 c. toasted walnuts, broken or coarsely chopped

Warm 2 T. olive oil in a medium saucepan with a tight fitting lid over moderate heat. Add the white portion of the spring onions along with a pinch of salt and sweat until tender and translucent. Add the garlic and cumin and cook until fragrant—about a minute. Increase the heat to medium high and add the drained bulgur. Continue to cook for a minute. Add the water and some salt and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook, covered until the bulgur is tender—12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and scatter the apricots over the surface of the bulgur. Cover and let stand for 5 minutes.

While the bulgur is resting, heat 2 T. olive oil in a wide sauté pan set over medium heat. Add the pepper flakes and chickpeas along with the green tops from the spring onions and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the chickpeas are hot.

Scatter the spinach over the chickpeas. Season with salt and continue to cook and stir until the spinach is hot through.

Transfer the bulgur to a large bowl. Scatter the mint over the bulgur, followed by the chickpea/spinach mixture along with the walnuts. Toss until everything is well combined.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve accompanied by some plain yogurt, if you like. Serves 4 to 5 as an entrée.

Note:  I used spring onions for this pilaf because I had some from the farmers' market, but you can use any onion that you have on hand--you'll need about one cup.  Unless you are using green onions as a substitute for the spring onions, omit the addition of the green portion of the onion to the chickpea/spinach mixture.

How to Poach an Egg

The spring has been late, then warm, then cool, and now for a couple of weeks, very dry. Then on Thursday, the skies opened up and it poured. The rain has continued with little break since....I love it.  Although some things are now drooping,

and a bit wet,

everything is lush and beautiful. Colors pop against the gray and the green.

As far as cooking goes, the clouds and the rain call for comfort food. I suppose this is part of what prompted the brownies.

Last night we had risotto—the epitome of comfort food.  In this case filled with the bounty of my morning trip to the market—asparagus and spring onions—along with peas (from the freezer...none fresh available yet) and herbs.

I've also been making poached eggs. Soft cooked eggs are a childhood comfort food--I had them often for breakfast with buttered toast. I occasionally had a "poached" egg on toast, but I don't think I ever had a real poached egg until I attended cooking school. I thought poached eggs were these odd little alien looking disks produced by an equally odd looking metal contraption that sat over a pan of steaming water.  Real poached eggs have been cooked directly in the water—without their shell or a metal container to control their eventual shape. They cook magically into a naturally shaped orb that will rest easily on a bed of greens or piece of toast. I've never had one floating in a bowl of broth, but that sounds wonderful, too.

Poached eggs go well with the new green vegetables of spring. They are especially good on a salad, where the runny yolk can mingle with the vinaigrette, making it almost creamy. Most of the time when I have a poached egg, I serve it on a salad that is some variation of salade frisée aux lardons. The classic version is made with frisée or curly endive, bacon, croutons, and a sharp, mustardy vinaigrette made with some of the bacon fat. The poached egg sits right on top. Recently I made it with roasted fingerling potatoes instead of croutons, and I used some of the spicy, substantial greens that I get at the Farmers' market instead of frisée.

Eggs are a classic partner for asparagus, too.  Since we have an abundance of asparagus from yesterday's trip to the market, for dinner tonight we had a poached egg on a bed of asparagus that had been sautéed with spring onions and some bacon—all on top of a buttered piece of toast. This would be what I call grown up comfort food.

To poach an egg, you will need a heavy bottomed saucepan which will help you to maintain an even water temperature. A pan that is wider than it is deep works best. Bring the water just to a simmer and season to taste with salt. Add a tablespoon of vinegar (red or white wine vinegar is fine) per quart of water. The vinegar will help the egg white to set quickly. Reduce the heat so that the water is not actively simmering—it should be still so as not to disturb the whites as they begin to set—around 200° is about perfect.

Crack an egg into a saucer or ramekin (that way you can pick out any bits of shell). If the yolk breaks, reserve the egg for another use (you could always make brownies or cookies...or cake...). Lower the ramekin so that it is touching the water and tip the egg into the water. Then just let it be. If you have beautiful, farm fresh eggs, the white should form a soft pillow around the yolk with very few straggly bits of white floating around it. I think a poached egg is perfect at 4 minutes—the yolk is mostly runny, but beginning to thicken around its edge near the white, and it is warm through. If you like your yolk more set, let it go for another 30 or 60 seconds. After a few eggs, you will know how you like it done.

If I am poaching more than one egg (you can poach as many as your pan will accommodate), I use a digital timer that counts up (rather than down). To keep track of when each egg should come out of the water, just note when (at :00, :15, :30, etc.) you put each egg in.  Then you can take each one out at the appropriate mark on the timer (4:00, 4:15, 4:30, etc.). Also, if you are poaching more than one or two eggs, you may need to raise the heat a bit to maintain the water temperature.

When the egg is done to your liking, carefully lift it out of the water using a slotted spoon. If serving right away, gently set it on a paper towel to blot it dry before transferring it to the plate.

If you are making poached eggs ahead of time, immerse the finished eggs in cold water and refrigerate until ready to serve. To serve, immerse the eggs in simmering water just to warm them through (3 or 4 minutes).

If you have never poached an egg, I hope you will give it a try. They are quick, nourishing and comforting.

An Excellent Brownie Recipe

Tonight turned out to be a brownie kind of night. I had intended to write about what I made for dinner, but I wasn't very happy with how it turned out. It was entirely edible—good, in fact—just not what I had in mind. And not up to the standards of the kinds of things that I want to post on my blog. The subtitle of my blog is "in pursuit of everyday excellence." It is not subtitled "everyday excellence".  From my perspective, it's about the pursuit, every day.  But I want people who try the recipes that I post to know that they are going to get something that meets a high standard. Someday I'll make a better version of tonight's dinner and post that one. But, for now, I'm making—and writing about—brownies. These brownies hit the mark.

When I was growing up my Mom had two brownie recipes. The first one was out of a Betty Crocker cookbook. It was a good brownie. The kind that everyone thought of when they thought of a brownie. This was before the advent of mixes.  It is so unfortunate that the ease of use of a mix has made it so that there are actually people out there who have no idea what a real scratch brownie tastes like.

At some point during my childhood my Mom acquired a cookbook called Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah written by Dinah Shore. You have to be of a certain age to remember that Dinah Shore, in addition to having a singing career, had a talk show. She would occasionally cook with her guests. The next step must have been to write a cookbook. There was a recipe in her book called "Bea's Brownies". But we never called them that. They were always "Dinah Shore Brownies" to us. They had a rich, deep chocolate flavor unlike anything we had ever experienced. My mom didn't make them very often. I think the main reason for this was that they were more expensive to make because they had more chocolate and butter in them. But there was also an issue with the way they baked. My mom found them to bake unreliably with a strange hump or bubble that would rise up in the center of the pan as they baked (this didn't affect the taste).

My mom eventually amended the Betty Crocker recipe to include the things we loved about the "Dinah Shore Brownies". These of course became "Mom's Brownies" and when my brothers married and their new wives were given handwritten recipe books of my brothers' favorite foods, "Mom's Brownies" made the cut.

In recent years, I wanted to revisit Dinah Shore's original recipe. I discovered something interesting in the very simple mixing instructions: "Beat eggs, adding sugar slowly..." This to me is a good example of how a basic technique can be hidden in a recipe and an experienced cook will see it and one who is not so experienced won't. After all, what does "adding sugar slowly" mean? Well, I read it as "beat the eggs, adding the sugar slowly, until they are thick and pale—not quite to the ribbon stage".

(I don't think my Mom was beating the eggs and sugar long enough.)  When the eggs and sugar are whipped almost to a ribbon, the resulting brownies are "light, yet dense" (a quote from one of my brothers) with a nice level surface (slightly rounded at the edges).

This then became one of my regular brownie recipes--it is very good. Then about a year ago I acquired an unusually small square casserole—perfect for fruit crisp for two and other items made on a small scale. I figured out that it was also perfect for a 1 egg batch of brownies.  I calculated that if I amended the original recipe (which called for 4 oz. of unsweetened chocolate and 1 1/2 cups of sugar) to include 6 oz. of 70% bittersweet chocolate and 1 cup of sugar, that the recipe divided evenly into a 1 egg batch with no odd amounts of leftover ingredients (like 2/3 of a square of unsweetened chocolate). This size batch is a much better amount for me to make since there are only two in my household. As it turns out, I like this version even better.

If you are looking for a traditional chewy or cakey brownie, this one isn't it. If, on the other hand, you are looking for a brownie that is "light, yet dense" and deeply chocolaty, you have found it.

Brownies

6 oz. Bittersweet Chocolate (70% cocoa solids--preferably Lindt Excellence--see note)

12 T. unsalted butter

3 eggs

1 c. sugar

3/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour (3 oz.)

pinch of salt

1 1/2 t. vanilla

Melt the butter and chocolate over low heat; set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs until smooth. Gradually whisk in the sugar until the mixture is pale and fluffy. (If whisking by hand, this will take 2 to 3 minutes). Add the melted chocolate mixture to the eggs and sugar. Fold in the flour & salt, followed by the vanilla.

Pour the batter into a greased and floured 8-inch-square baking pan. Bake at 350° for 20 to 25 minutes. The brownies are done when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs. Do not over bake—the brownies should still be very moist in the center.  Makes 24 small brownies (they are very rich).

Note (added 6/21/10):  I recently made a small batch of these and couldn't get Lindt Excellence 70%, which is the chocolate I have always used.  I purchased Scharffenberger Bittersweet 70%.  The brownies were not very chocolate-y and disappointingly average overall.  I was surprised since both Lindt and Scharffenberger are considered to be quality chocolates and both are labeled 70%.  After I made the brownies (which even looked a bit pale as I was mixing them up using the Scharffenberger) I tasted the two chocolates side by side.  The Lindt was discernibly more intense in chocolate flavor.  Such is the mystery of chocolate.... The moral here is that if you cannot get Lindt Excellence 70%, then I can't vouch for your results.  To get the desired result, I would make the brownies using the original recipe, which called for 4 oz. of unsweetened chocolate and 1 1/2 cups of sugar, instead.

One More Artichoke Recipe & a Simple Pan-Roasted Chicken Breast

I say "one more" artichoke recipe, but in reality there is every likelihood that I will post more before their season is over. My previous recipes used roasted artichokes and gently stewed artichokes. Tonight I braised them with some potatoes and the last of my spring onions from the market. It's only Wednesday and I have gone through everything I purchased at the market except for some salad greens and the rhubarb—the rhubarb will go in a coffee cake tomorrow. In a few weeks, running out before the week is over will not be a problem—the sheer abundance or the summer and fall market always makes me want to purchase far more than we can possibly consume in a week.

Although our artichokes come from California, I associate artichokes with Provence. In the quintessential artichoke dish from that region of France—Artichauts à la Barigoule—the artichokes are gently cooked in a bath of aromatic vegetables, herbs, white wine and lots of olive oil. When I braise artichokes I almost always borrow from this famed dish. Tonight my aromatics and herbs were the aforementioned spring onions, plus garlic, bay leaf and thyme.

As with any braise, I first gently colored the artichokes in a little bit of fat—in this case butter and olive oil.

I then added the spring onions, garlic and thyme and cooked these briefly. Since braising is a moist heat cooking method, the next step is to moisten the vegetables to be braised. This could be done with just water or stock, but I used white wine. After reducing the wine to soften and concentrate its flavor, I added enough water (you could use stock) to come about 1/4 of the way up the artichokes. After this moistening, the artichokes are cooked covered at a gentle simmer. The artichokes will take 30 to 40 minutes to cook—they should be tender to the tip of a knife.

Many things can be added to the braising artichokes to cook along with them. Carrots and Fennel come to mind. I thought about finishing my braised artichokes by adding some sautéed mushrooms towards the end and then adding and reducing some cream. Artichokes are wonderful with mushrooms (and cream), but I feel like I have been using a lot of mushrooms recently. So I added some fingerling potatoes to my braise when I added the liquid (potatoes are another good partner for artichokes and will take the same amount of time to cook) and then finished with a few Niçoise olives. If I had had some parsley or basil on hand, I would have added one or both at the end. They would have added some freshness and color. Patricia Wells has a wonderful ragoût of artichokes and new potatoes in her Provence Cookbook that she finishes with a persillade of parsley, mint, garlic and pepper flakes—a nice touch.

I served the artichokes and potatoes with a simple pan-roasted chicken breast. I used a bone-in, split breast. Even if you like to eat boneless breasts, you should try and cook the chicken on the bone. Meat cooked on the bone always has more flavor and in the case of the chicken will be juicier.

To pan roast a split breast, season the breast liberally all over with salt & pepper. Brown the breast, skin side down in a little bit of oil in a hot ovenproof sauté pan. When the skin is browned and crisp, turn the chicken over (the bone provides a convenient roasting rack) and transfer to a 375° to 400° oven. Roast until an instant read thermometer inserted in the thickest part reads about 150°--about 25 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a plate and let rest for 10 minutes—the internal temperature will continue to rise as the chicken rests and will easily reach the safe temperature of 160°.   Add the resting juices to the artichokes. Using your hands, pull the bone away from the breast, starting at the point where the breast was attached to the wing.  Slice the breast at an angle, across the grain and serve.  A large split breast (12 ounces) will yield about 8 or 9 ounces of meat and make two small portions. 

Braised Artichokes with Fingerling Potatoes & Olives

1 lemon
3 Globe Artichokes
1 T. butter
olive oil
1 lb. Fingerling potatoes, scrubbed
3 fat cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
1 T. picked thyme, roughly chopped
1 bay leaf
Several spring onions, including some of the green, thinly sliced on a diagonal
1/2 c. dry white wine
1 to 1 1/4 c. chicken stock (or water)
1/3 to 1/2 c. pitted Niçoise olives
Salt & Pepper, to taste

Turn the artichoke, rubbing with lemon juice as you work. Cut each bottom into eight wedges.

In a large sauté pan with a tight fitting lid, melt the butter in a little olive oil over medium heat. When the foam has begun to subside, drain the artichokes, pat them dry, and add them to the pan. Gently cook the artichokes, turning once, for about 3 to 5 minutes. While the artichokes are cooking, cut the potatoes into uniform chunks. You may halve them lengthwise, or cut on a short diagonal if they are very thin. When the artichokes are beginning to color, add the onions, garlic and thyme and cook until fragrant. Deglaze the pan with the white wine and reduce by half. Add 1 cup of the stock and bring to a simmer. Add the potatoes and season lightly with salt and pepper. Cover and cook at a bare simmer, stirring/shaking occasionally, until the artichokes and potatoes offer no resistance to the tip of a knife—about 30 to 40 minutes. Add the olives after 15 minutes of cooking. If the ragout becomes dry, add some more of the stock.

Swirl in more olive oil if you like. Taste and correct the seasoning. Serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6

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