French Apple Tart

Ever since I attended cooking school I have been in love with French-style tarts. I love American pies, but given a choice, I will always choose to make (and eat) a tart. Tarts are so versatile and beautiful. I try to sneak tarts—savory and sweet—into my cooking classes as often as I can.

This past week I taught a class that included several classic French dishes. I ended the class with a Tarte aux Pommes. You can't get much more "classic" than this tart. If you have ever walked in to a French pastry shop, you have seen this tart. It is amazingly beautiful. It is also surprisingly easy to make.

Since we are in the middle of apple season, now is a good time to try your hand at making this tart. The apple traditionally used is the Golden Delicious—it is sweet, apple-y tasting and holds its shape when cooked. But any flavorful apple that reliably holds its shape when cooked could be used. Patricia Wells suggests Jonagold, Gravenstein, Gala or Cortland. I imagine that Braeburn and Jonathan would also be a good choices, but honestly, my favorite is the Golden Delicious. Because it is sweet, it doesn't require lots of sugar. It is also widely available. Apples are very regional—I don't think I have ever seen a Gravenstein, and although I have lived in Cortland country, I don't anymore.  They occasionally make an appearance in the grocery stores where I live now, but I can't count on finding them.

The Tarte aux Pommes consists of two layers of apples. A beautiful sunburst-like spiral of apples is spread over a thin layer of a thick, homemade apple compote. The compote is quite easy to make. The only trick is to make sure that you cook it until it is no longer "wet". When you draw a spoon through the compote in the pan, a path should remain without any liquid bleeding out of the compote.

It should be thick enough to mound on a spoon.

If the compote is too thin, it will make the crust soggy.  Much of my recipe is taken from the one that Patricia Wells includes in her book, Simply French. One of the things I love about her recipe is the inclusion of a vanilla bean in the compote.

You can make the compote without it, but adding it makes the tart extraordinary.

For the decorative spiral of apples on top of the compote, choose apples that are uniform in size. I prefer to thinly slice the apples by hand rather than using a Mandoline-type slicer. If your knife skills aren't the best, slicing by hand will provide good practice. But beyond that, when you slice by hand, all of the slices from each half apple remain next to each other on the cutting board. It is an easy matter to scoop up the sliced apple half and fan it in an arc around the edge of the tart. If you use the mandolin, the slices fall randomly onto the cutting board and it is more of an effort to create a neat looking spiral since you have to take the time to pick and choose slices that "fit" next to each other.

Classically, this tart is finished with a glaze of an apricot jam-like substance called nappage. This gives the finished tart a beautiful sheen. It also helps preserve the tart for longer keeping in a pastry shop case since it protects the fruit from the air. Unless a tart has been prepared well in advance of when it will be served, I find the apricot glaze to be pretty unappealing. Oftentimes the apricot glaze is poorly applied and is thick and gloppy. I prefer the method that Patricia Wells uses: When the tart is hot from the oven, dredge with powdered sugar. Then, run the tart under the broiler until the edges of the apples are browned. Not only does this accentuate the beautiful spiral of apples, it also forms a light glaze over the whole tart as the powdered sugar melts. It tastes great and looks truly elegant.

When you serve this tart, your knife skills will come into play again. Make sure that you choose a sharp knife with a long, thin blade. Be careful to use a gentle sawing motion as you cut. If you press down with the knife (rather than sawing back and forth), you will squash your lovely tart. When sliced properly, the slices of this tart will be beautiful, even if you must slice them into very narrow wedges for a buffet...or tasting portions for a class.

Tarte aux Pommes

(French Apple Tart)

2 Golden Delicious apples (about 7 to 8 oz. each)
1 T. unsalted butter
3 T. sugar
3 T. apple cider or water
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
3 Golden Delicious apples (about 7 to 8 oz. each)
1 partially baked 9- to 10-inch tart shell (Pâte Brisée)
2 T. melted butter
2 T. sugar
powdered sugar

Peel, core and dice the 2 apples. Place in a saucepan with the butter, sugar, cider and the vanilla  bean and seeds. Cover and cook over moderate heat until the apples are tender and beginning to fall apart—10 to 15 minutes. Uncover, increase the heat and continue to cook, stirring and mashing with the back of a spoon or a heat-proof spatula until you have a coarse purée that mounds on a spoon and doesn't "weep" liquid. Let cool.  Remove the vanilla bean.

Peel, halve and core the remaining three apples.

Lay the apples cut side down on the cutting board and using a sharp knife, slice the apples cross-wise as thinly as possible—they should be 1/8-inch thick or less.

Spread the apple compote in the partially baked tart shell. Fan the apple slices, tightly overlapping one another, in two concentric circles—starting with the outside circle and overlapping the inner circle partially over the outer one. (It will be easier to make the inner spiral of apples lie flat if you first use the smaller "end pieces" of the apples to fill in the center of the tart, building it up to the same level as the outer circle of apples.)  Brush the apples with melted butter and sprinkle the granulated sugar evenly over the apples. Place the tart on a baking sheet and bake in a 400° oven until the apples are lightly golden and tender to the tip of a sharp knife—about 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the tart from the oven and sprinkle generously with powdered sugar. Broil the tart until the edges of the apples are a deep golden brown—watch carefully, the tart will burn easily. Cool slightly and serve. Slice using a thin, sharp knife.

(Recipe adapted from Simply French, by Patricia Wells)

Pâte Brisée

(Basic Pastry Dough)

1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour (150g)
scant 1/2 t. salt
8 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces (112g)
3 to 4 T. 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. If, when you squeeze some of the mixture it holds together, the dough is finished. 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. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and press into a thick disk. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

To roll out the crust, let the dough warm up for a moment or two. Butter a 9-to 10-inch removable bottom tart pan and set it aside. Flour the work surface and the rolling pin. Begin rolling from the center of the dough outward. After each stroke, rotate the dough a quarter turn—always making sure that there is sufficient flour to keep the dough from sticking. Keep rolling and turning until you have a round of dough that is about 1/8–inch thick. Brush off the excess flour and fold the dough circle in half. Slide the outspread fingers of both hands under the dough and gently lift it and transfer it to the prepared pan. Unfold the dough and ease it into the pan being careful not to stretch it and making sure to press the dough firmly into the corners and up the sides. Using your palms, gently press the dough against the edge of the pan to cut it off flush with the edge of the tart pan. Chill the tart shell for at least 1/2 hour.

To partially bake the tart shell, line the pastry with aluminum foil or parchment paper, pressing it into the corners and edges. Add a layer of pie weights or dried beans. Bake in a 425° oven for 10 to 18 minutes. When the pastry begins to color on the edges, remove the foil and weights and continue baking until the pastry dries out and turns a pale golden color. Let cool before filling.

Butternut Squash with Caramelized Sweet Onions & Swiss Chard—A Simple Side Dish for Fall

After my cooking demonstration Saturday for the Farm Tour I had some peeled and diced butternut squash left over. If you like butternut squash, you have probably done the work of peeling, seeding, and dicing many times and you know what a great "leftover" this is.  I wanted to make sure that I used it so I put it in a visible spot in my fridge. But since I haven't cooked a meal at home since the tour, I had forgotten about the squash until today when I opened up the refrigerator to look and see what I had on hand to cook with for dinner tonight.

In addition to the squash, I had a bunch of Swiss chard from the farmers' market. Swiss chard and butternut squash are good partners—the slight bitterness of the greens compliments the sweet squash nicely. My original thought was to roast the butternut squash and serve it alongside the wilted Swiss chard. But as I was standing at the counter stripping the leaves away from the chard stems my eyes fell on a bowl of little sweet onions that I purchased at the market a couple of weeks ago. They seemed like the perfect addition, so I caramelized them and tossed everything together. I really liked the result—a definite keeper.

This side dish would go well with almost any sautéed, grilled or roasted meat that you wanted to serve with it.  It would also make a nice vegetarian entrée if served with a round of baked goat cheese.  I served mine with a very special roast chicken. On Monday evening I had dinner at a friend's house.  She has just put in an outdoor, wood-fired oven...that she built herself!  I will not attempt to describe the oven in detail, because in my ignorance I'm sure my description would include many inaccuracies.  I will just say that once it is fired up, it holds its heat for long periods of time.  Learning to cook in it includes learning how to take advantage of this property.  We were invited to bring a chicken with us so that while we enjoyed an incredible meal—that had been prepared from start to finish in her oven—our chickens (to be taken home with us) were happily roasting away.  The chicken has been a delicious treat. 

Butternut Squash with Caramelized Sweet Onions and Swiss Chard

I prepared this dish for two, but obviously it can be multiplied to feed as many as you like.

Olive oil
5 to 6 oz. sweet onions (2 small or one medium), halved, cored and thinly sliced
8 to 9 oz. diced (scant 3/4-inch) butternut squash—about 12 oz. before peeling and seeding (about 2 cups, diced)
1 bunch Swiss Chard, stems pulled away and discarded and leaves roughly cut cross-wise (see note)
Salt & pepper

Warm some olive oil in a medium sauté pan over medium high heat. Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and toss to coat in the fat. When the onions begin to soften and color, reduce the heat to low, cover and cook until the onions are very tender and caramelized. 

While the onions cook, toss the butternut squash with enough olive oil to lightly coat and spread in a baking dish  

or on a sheet pan and roast in a 425° oven until tender and caramelized—about 30 minutes. Stir once about half way through the cooking so the squash will color evenly. Remove from the oven and set aside until ready to finish the dish.

When the onions are cooked, remove them from the pan and add them to the pan with the finished squash. Return the sauté pan to the heat and increase the heat to medium high. Add a little more oil to the pan and add the chard a handful at a time.  Use tongs to turn and coat the chard in the oil as you add it. When all of the chard has been added to the pan and has begun to collapse, lightly season with salt and pepper, reduce the heat to low and cover the pan. Cook until the chard is tender.

When the chard is tender add the squash and onions to the pan, toss to combine and heat through. Serves 2.

Note: It isn't necessary to spin the chard dry after washing it. Just drain it well. Any water left clinging to the leaves will help it to wilt and will evaporate off quickly during the initial cooking.



Printable Recipe

A Butternut Squash & Bulgur Pilaf for the Kaw Valley Farm Tour

I mentioned in my last post that this had been a busy week. One of the highlights of my week was participating in the Kaw Valley Farm Tour. The Kaw Valley is the river valley of the Kansas (or Kaw) River running from Junction City, Kansas east to Kaw Point in Kansas City. Every year for a weekend in October a group of growers situated in the Kaw River Valley get together and open their growing and producing operations to the public. It is a fabulous opportunity for people in the area to see what is growing and thriving in their own back yards.

Yesterday and today were picture perfect early October days with sunny blue skies, puffy clouds and the cool feel of fall in the air. Everything is still green after our unusually wet summer and there is just a tinge of color beginning to show in the leaves. Even if you weren't interested in the stops along the way, the drive through the Kaw Valley on such a day would be a worthwhile way to spend some time. Being outside in such a beautiful place when the weather is so lovely is amazingly restorative. I wish that I were a landscape photographer so that I could share the beauty with you.

My part in the weekend's activities was a short cooking demonstration and tasting yesterday at a the Blue Jacket Crossing vineyard and winery. I have to confess that I wasn't sure how my part of the day was going to go. I had not visited beforehand and it is not uncommon for a chef to go into a situation where they simply have to make the best of it. But this was not the case at Blue Jacket. The delightful couple who own and operate the winery graciously welcomed me and had a special place set up for me to do my demonstration. Despite the rather stiff Kansas wind, I truly had a wonderful time (I hope I get to go back).


Demonstration mis en place ready to go



Tastings

Prior to the event they had sent me six of their wines to try so I could match my food to some of them. Not surprisingly they sell out of their dry wines almost immediately after they are released; so at this point in the year, I was tasting, and would be preparing something to go with, their sweeter wines. Since the farm tour is a celebration of locally grown foods, I decided I would make the bulgur pilaf (Kansas is wheat country, after all) that I posted about in the spring and change it up a bit for the fall.

The spinach that appears in the original pilaf could easily have been changed to Swiss Chard and would have been a fine addition to an Autumn pilaf.  Swiss Chard makes an appearance at the Farmers' Market in both the spring and the fall. But the butternut squash has been looking particularly nice this year, so I thought I would use that instead. Also, I thought its sweetness would be great with the wines. Initially I thought about also incorporating some eggplant because I think eggplant and butternut squash are good partners during the short season when they come into the market together. The pilaf that I made with both butternut squash and eggplant was really good, but the presence of the eggplant seemed to require the addition of a generous squeeze of lemon juice.  This would have made it a poor match for the wines.

I eventually settled on a pilaf with just roasted butternut squash, pistachios, golden raisins, loads of mint and the optional addition of chickpeas for when it is to be served as an entrée. Without the chickpeas it is a wonderful side dish for Autumn.  I think it would make a nice addition to the Thanksgiving table.  And judging from the reaction of those who tasted it yesterday, it would be very well-received...even by people who think they don't like "whole grains".
 

The pilaf paired very well with Blue Jacket's award winning Seyval Reserve (a lovely white, which I had not tasted before I arrived) and their Nouveau Beaujolais-style Wolf Red. So in addition to having the pleasure of watching people taste and enjoy the pilaf, I got to see their eyes light up as they tasted the pilaf and the wine together.

The tasting room at the winery is open year round, so if you are in the area, check out their website and drop in to see them and taste their wines while you enjoy the spectacular view of their Kaw Valley Vineyard. (While you're at it, make a batch of this pilaf to take with you. With the addition of a little yogurt, some fruit and a bottle of wine, it would make a great picnic lunch.)





 Bulgur Pilaf with Butternut Squash,

Pistachios & Golden Raisins

2 to 2 1/2 lb. butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut in a scant 3/4-inch dice (about 5 c. diced)
3 to 4 T. olive oil, divided
1 small onion (about 6 oz.), diced (you will have about 1 c. diced onion)
1 fat clove garlic, minced
kosher salt
1 t. ground cumin
pinch cayenne
1 c. (6 oz.) medium bulgur, rinsed and drained
1 1/4 c. water
1/2 c. golden raisins
1/4 c. mint chiffonade
2 T. minced flat leaf parsley
1/2 c. toasted pistachios, coarsely chopped

Toss the squash with 1 to 2 T. olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Spread in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake in a 425°F oven until tender and caramelized—20 to 30 minutes (stirring once so it will brown evenly).

Warm 2 T. olive oil in a medium saucepan with a tight fitting lid over moderate heat. Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and sweat until tender and translucent. Add the garlic, cumin and cayenne and cook until fragrant—about a minute. Increase the heat to medium high and add the drained bulgur along with a generous pinch of salt. Continue to cook for a minute. Add the water 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 raisins over the surface of the bulgur. Cover and let stand for 5 minutes.

Transfer the bulgur to a large bowl. Add the herbs, roasted squash and pistachios and toss until everything is well combined. Serve warm or room temperature. Serves 4 to 5 as side dish.

Variations:
- To make a more substantial pilaf to be served as an entrée, add a 1 to 1 1/2 cups cooked chickpeas (if using canned, drain and rinse before adding). Add the chickpeas with the roasted squash and pistachios.

- For a late summer variation, top and tail a medium eggplant (about 12 oz.). Cut into a 3/4-inch dice and toss with salt, pepper and olive oil to coat and spread on a baking sheet. Transfer to a 425° oven and roast until tender and caramelized—about 20 minutes. Add to the pilaf with the butternut squash. Substitute walnuts for the pistachios and add 2 to 4 tablespoons of lemon juice to the final pilaf.

- Add 10 oz. of stemmed spinach that has been wilted, squeezed dry and roughly chopped.

Banana Chocolate Walnut Cake

It has been an unusually busy week (and it isn't over yet), so most of my cooking at home has been just enough to put something nourishing on the table.  Unfortunately there hasn't been enough time to blog about any of it. Instead, I thought I would end September with something short and sweet by sharing a recipe from an old issue of Gourmet—my favorite banana cake.

I mentioned once that in my house we almost never have more than one banana reach a state of ripeness appropriate for baked goods. This means that if I want a banana cake or a batch of banana bread I have to plan a few days ahead so I can purchase the necessary bananas and then allow them to ripen. But for some reason a week or two ago, three bananas hung around long enough to become well-speckled. Suddenly, there they were. I seized the moment and made this cake.  I'm so glad that I did, because now, even during a very busy week, I have something in my freezer to help start my day on a happy note. 

Banana Chocolate Walnut Cake

2 1/4 (9 oz.) cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick (4 oz) unsalted butter, softened, plus 2 tablespoons, melted and cooled
1 cup sugar, divided
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 1/4 cups mashed very ripe bananas (about 3 medium)--see note
2/3 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2/3 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips (4-oz)
1 cup walnuts (3 oz), toasted, cooled, and coarsely chopped
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch square cake pan; set aside.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.  Cream the butter (1 stick) and 3/4 cup sugar in a medium bowl with an electric mixer at medium speed until pale and fluffy, then beat in eggs 1 at a time until blended. Combine the bananas, yogurt, and vanilla and add to the creamed mixture alternately with the flour mixture, beginning and ending with the flour mixture.

Toss together chocolate, nuts, cinnamon, melted butter, and remaining 1/4 cup sugar in a small bowl. Spread half of banana batter in cake pan and sprinkle with half of chocolate mixture.

Spread remaining batter evenly over filling and sprinkle remaining chocolate mixture on top.  

Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick inserted in center of cake comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool cake in pan on a rack 30 minutes, then turn out onto rack and cool completely, right side up.

Recipe adapted from Gourmet Magazine February 2008

Note:  Do not bother making this cake unless you have very ripe bananas...the skins should be well-spotted and the flesh very soft.  If the bananas are just a bit over-ripe the cake will not seem very sweet and will also have a slightly tough texture. 

Printable Version

Chocolate Pot de Crème

Regular readers of my blog probably know by now that my favorite desserts are fruit desserts. But that doesn't mean I am not fond of chocolate. It's just that if I'm going to eat chocolate, most of the time I want to have the pure chocolate experience without a lot of embellishment.

I taught chocolate pot de crème last week. For those who aren't familiar with it, pot de crème is a French, egg yolk-rich, heavy cream-based custard that is baked in a small ramekin or petit pot (pronounced pō). 

The pots are petite because the custard is very rich—you really only need a small amount.  You could even use espresso cups.  Pot de crème can be any flavor, but most often it is vanilla bean-infused or intensely chocolate. 

I don't think there is anything particularly unique about the quantities of yolks, cream, chocolate and sugar in my recipe, but I do think the mixing method is a bit different. I adopted it from the chocolate pot de crème recipe in The Balthazar Cookbook. Most custards combine at least a portion of the sugar with the egg yolks before adding the hot liquids. I believe this is to provide some measure of protection for the yolks so that they will be less likely to scramble when the hot liquid is added. This recipe adds all of the sugar to the pan with the milk and cream to be heated with them. Since the chocolate is then added to this mixture before it is added to the yolks, the chocolate cools the liquid down enough that scrambling isn't an issue. The benefit of this method is that the sugar is fully dissolved in the hot milk/cream mixture and the resulting custard seems to me to be much silkier.

After my classes I usually sit down with the class assistants to relax with them and also to eat a little of the food that I have prepared. This week I was chatting away when I took a bite of the chocolate pot de crème and interrupted myself to say "Oh my!"

It was sooooo good. And that is the kind of chocolate dessert that I want to eat—so chocolate-y and so suave that it stops you in your tracks and demands your undivided attention. Something that would cause you to say with Homer-like focus "Mmmmm Chocolate..."

I only had a little taste that evening and they have been on my mind ever since. Fortunately, I have found a good reason to make another batch. As it turns out, the very day that I was teaching that class was the 50th birthday of a good friend....and it completely slipped my mind. I usually have no trouble remembering birthdays, so I'm not sure how I managed to forget his birthday. But I will be working with my friend this week and thought I would take a batch of chocolate pots de crème in with me as a belated birthday treat. I do hope that he enjoys them....I'm certain they will make me happy.

Chocolate Pot de Crème

3/4 c. whole milk
3/4 c. heavy cream
1/4 c. sugar
4 oz. bittersweet chocolate (something around 60%), finely chopped
4 large egg yolks
1/2 t. vanilla extract

Line a baking pan with a couple layers of paper towels or a kitchen towel. Place the ramekins or custard cups in the pan. The pan should be just large enough to hold them comfortably without touching.

Place the milk, cream and sugar in a small saucepan and bring just to a simmer. Remove from the heat and add the chocolate. Let sit for a moment or two to allow the heat to fully penetrate the chocolate; whisk until smooth.

In a small bowl, whisk the egg yolks. Then, in a slow, steady stream, add in the chocolate-cream mixture, stirring until smooth. Stir in the vanilla.  If time permits, allow the custard to sit for a few moments so that any bubbles that have formed during the whisking will rise to the surface and can be skimmed off.  If you take the time to do this, the surface of the finished custards will be perfectly smooth.

Divide the cream among the ramekins. Pour enough hot water (just off the boil) into the pan to reach about halfway up the sides of the ramekins.

Cover the pan loosely with foil (this will prevent a skin from forming on the cream). Place the pan in the center of a 300° oven and bake until the cream is just set at the edges but still trembling in the center, about 25 to 35 minutes.

Remove the pan from the oven and carefully remove the ramekin from the water. Let the custard cool to room temperature and then refrigerate, loosely covered, for at least 2 hours. Serve chilled with whipped cream, if desired.

Makes 8 small (3-oz. ramekins), 6 medium (4-oz. ramekins), or 4 large (6-oz. ramekins)

Printable Version

The "Shoulder" Season and Polenta with Fresh Sweet Corn

It has been a while since I posted a picture of my purchases from the Farmers' Market. During our long summer growing season the contents of my market bag change only slightly from week to week. But there has been more change in recent weeks as the days have shortened and the weather has cooled a bit. This week my purchases are a perfect representation of that brief intersection of the seasons when the summer produce is waning and the fall crops are filling the stalls.

I have heard the moment in the harvest, when the lines between the seasons are blurred, referred to as the "shoulder" season. Of course, it occurs four times in a year—most prominently in my climate between Winter and Spring and then Summer and Fall. During these two shoulder seasons, not only is there a change in the ingredients themselves, but there is a marked change in the way food is prepared. Summer food is distinguished by vibrant, fresh flavors and quick preparations, while Autumn and Winter fare tends toward comforting, often hearty and complex flavors.  These cold season foods usually take time and forethought to prepare. During the few weeks when the seasons meet, these distinctions are not so clear. My last post of a creamy pasta with summer squash and walnuts is a good example, as is Soupe au Pistou. I love to cook during this time of year. My cooking really seems spontaneous since the food I am hungry for is largely dictated by the changing weather.

A favorite dish that falls into this shoulder season is soft polenta with sautéed sweet corn. I tend to think of polenta as stick-to-your-ribs, cold-weather food—perfect as an accompaniment to rich braises and hearty ragùs. Frequently when I prepare polenta I like to fold other things into it—sautéed mushrooms for example, or sweet potato purée—cool season foods, for the most part. It would be natural to think of stirring in some sweet corn since polenta is simply dried, ground corn. But for most of the times when polenta feels right, this isn't really an option. And when fresh corn is in season, polenta is not very appealing to me. During the winter there is of course frozen corn, but it isn't quite the same.

Fortunately there is this window—this shoulder season—when the cooling weather that makes polenta seem appropriate coincides with the final week or so of the local corn harvest. I took advantage of this at a recent dinner class where I prepared polenta with fresh sweet corn to accompany one of my favorite dishes of braised pork with fennel and olives. It tasted so good to me that I prepared a batch at home this week to go with some garlicky sautéed Swiss Chard (which is just now returning to the market) and a spice-rubbed chicken breast (I used paprika, cumin and chile powder.  Rub to taste all over the chicken, along with some salt and pepper and follow the directions for a pan-roasted breast.  I used a boneless, skin-on breast this time, but the method is the same.  The cooking time will be less.).

The farmer that I buy my corn from told me this morning that next week will be the last week for corn this year, so my opportunity to prepare this, and other dishes like it, is fast drawing to a close.

Fresh Corn Polenta

2 T. unsalted butter
1 ½ c. fresh corn (from about 2 ears)
2 t. thyme leaves
1 recipe Basic Polenta (see below)
Salt & Pepper

Heat a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the butter. When it foams, add the corn along with the thyme, about ¼ t. salt and freshly ground pepper. Sauté until the corn is just cooked through and is tender—about 3 to 4 minutes.

Remove from the heat. Stir the corn into the hot polenta just before serving. Serves 6 to 8.

Basic Polenta:
1 c. Polenta (organic stone-ground, if available)
salt & pepper
3 T. unsalted butter

Bring a large pot of water to a simmer—this water will be used in the polenta and also as a bain-marie (double boiler) over which to cook the polenta. While the water is coming to a boil, place 1 t. salt in a 1 ½-to 2-qt. stainless bowl. When the pot of water comes to a boil, measure 3 ½ cups of the water into the bowl with the salt. Using a whisk, stir the water into a whirlpool as you slowly pour in the polenta. Keep whisking in the same direction until the polenta is completely blended in and there are no lumps. Set the bowl over the simmering pot of water. Continue to whisk every few moments until you can see that the grains of polenta have begun to absorb the water and are suspended in the liquid and no longer settling in a mass at the bottom of the bowl. This should only take a few minutes. Cover the bowl with foil, sealing the edges securely. Cook for 1 ½ hours, keeping the water at a simmer. Occasionally uncover and stir the polenta with a rubber spatula—adding more hot water if the polenta becomes too stiff. Reseal the foil after each stirring. When finished, the polenta should be thick, soft & smooth and have no raw taste. It may be used immediately or held for up to 4 hours over steaming water. Add more salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the butter just before serving.

(Recipe for Fresh Corn Polenta from Sunday Suppers at Lucques by Suzanne Goin.  Method for Basic Polenta, adapted from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper.)

Printable Version

Fettuccine with Cream, Walnuts & Summer Squash

The weather the last few days has been very changeable—typical actually for the month of September in Kansas City. This time of year the temperatures can fluctuate from quite cool to very warm in the space of just a few hours. Saturday morning was pleasantly warm with dappled sunlight and a humid breeze. I went out to spend some time working in my garden, trying to regain some semblance of control. I discovered that my nasturtiums that had struggled all summer—first it was wet and cool and then dry and hot—had finally come into their own.

In the afternoon the weather turned cloudy and cool as a cold front tried to move south over the city. It never really made it--we have been warmer than usual for the past few days now—but on Saturday the cooler evening air along with the earlier fading of the light put me in the mood for something creamy and comforting for dinner.

There are some dishes that are very much "of the moment"—a moment when the harvest of the previous season is lingering as the calendar moves forward into the next. The pasta I made for dinner on Saturday is a good example of one. It is a simple dish of pasta dressed with summer squash and cream. We have beautiful summer squash all summer—it has quite a long season—and never does it occur to me to pair it with cream. The hot weather during which it thrives seems to demand that it be paired with olive oil, lemon, olives, tomatoes and other "Mediterranean" ingredients.  But of course zucchini isn't limited to this narrow palate.  A few years ago, as the summer squash season was winding down, I decided to combine it with walnuts and cream for a quick pasta.  It was the walnuts that made me think of the cream.  The nutty character of the summer squash goes well with walnuts and I frequently put them together.  And since I love walnut cream sauce on pasta...and I tend to think of cream sauces as the weather begins to cool off...it suddenly seemed to be an obvious combination.  I wanted to remember to make it again when the moment was right, so I scribbled in the margin of my notebook that it was just the thing for a cloudy and cool fall evening. 

But since the summer squash vines will quit producing when cooler weather really starts to settle in, the moment for this pasta will be fleeting—and if recent weather is any indication, will be here one day and gone the next.

Fettuccine with Cream, Walnuts & Summer Squash

8 oz. fettuccine
1/2 to 2/3 c. heavy cream
8 to 10 oz. small zucchini or yellow squash, sliced a scant 1/8-inch thick

2 or 3 sprigs thyme, picked

1/4 c. walnuts (1 oz.), toasted and finely chopped
2 to 3 T. unsalted butter
minced Italian flat-leaf parsley
freshly grated Parmesan

Bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot. Add 2 tablespoons of salt. Add the fettuccine and cook until al dente.

While the pasta cooks, place the squash in a small sauté pan along with the cream and the thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and gently simmer (you don't want the cream to boil over or thicken too much) until tender. This should only take 2 or 3 minutes. When the squash is tender, remove from the heat and keep warm.

When the pasta is ready, drain in a colander, being sure to reserve some of the pasta cooking water. Return the pasta to the pan and add the butter, walnuts, and the cooked squash and cream. Stir and toss to coat the pasta with the cream. Add reserved pasta water as necessary so that the noodles are coated in a fluid sauce. Let the pasta sit for a minute before serving since the starch from the noodles will thicken the cream a bit and tighten the sauce. Toss to recheck the sauce consistency, adding more pasta water if necessary. Taste and correct the seasoning. Serve garnished with parsley and Parmesan. Serves 2.

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