COOKBOOK/A TABLE - Curried Mushroom Soup with Rosie!

Rosie’s back! I have spoken of my love of Oprah’s former personal chef Rosie Daley, and in particular, her Unfried Chicken. Daley’s cookbook In the Kitchen with Rosie really taught me a whole methodology of how to prepare food when I was just beginning to cook for myself. She also enlightens us with tricks to keep recipes...light and ways to eat healthier. 

This recipe for curried mushroom soup has been on the back burner for a while—too long! It’s low in fat, easy to make, and so tasty too. 

In the mood for more mushrooms? Click here for a toothsome mushroom lasagna, here for a duxelles preparation—and read about my first dubious experience with mushrooms here!

Curried Mushroom Soup
Ingredients
2 cups boiling water
1 cup dried oysters
1 cup morel
1cup porcini mushroom
1 1⁄2 cups chopped leeks, white part only
2 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon curry powder
4 cups skim milk
1 chicken bouillon cube
2 cups chopped fresh portabella mushrooms
4 cups chopped fresh shiitake mushrooms
1 tablespoon dry sherry
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chervil (if you can’t find chervil, a blend of parsley and tarragon works out nicely)

Directions
Pour the boiling water, the oysters and dried mushrooms in a bowl and set aside to soak.

Preheat a heavy stockpot over medium heat for about 1 minute, then spray it twice with the vegetable oil. Add the leeks and sauté for about 3 minutes, stirring constantly, until translucent. Add the flour and curry powder. Stir with a wooden spoon until the leeks are well coated. Add the milk and bouillon cube. Raise the heat to high and cook just until bubbles begin to form around the edge.

Reduce the heat to low and whisk until all ingredients are thoroughly combined. Stir in the fresh mushrooms and cook for 5 minutes.

Meanwhile remove the reconstituted mushrooms from their soaking liquid, strain, squeeze out excess moisture, and roughly chop. Add to the stockpot and cook for 1 minute more. Stir in the sherry.

Garnish with the chopped chervil.

Do enjoy!

Steak Diane Keaton

Oh, if only Diane Keaton had been in The Deer Hunter, I could have tied together this post about venison steaks and the legendary actress that much easier.

But how about this:

After living in Manhattan for so long, every corner has become a memory, a friend; every crosswalk, a chance to step back in time. I always think of Diane Keaton in the scene above from Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery whenever I walk past The National Arts Club (below), where it was filmed. Sad as it was to lose her last year, for me, she will always be seated in that window, looking out over Gramercy Park.

I’ve stopped into the exclusive club a few times too, having been invited to some event or other—I seem to recall a bartender who, appropriately enough, made a pretty mean Manhattan. 

But apart from Miss Keaton, we are here to discuss venison steak, perfect for those still nippy days that intervene with spring! We ordered our venison from the always reliable D’Artagnan site, but you can certainly pick up a petit filet from your butcher instead. I certainly appreciate making any dish that requires it be lit on fire and Steak Diane (as well as this variation with venison here) fits the bill, served in a deeply flavored, creamy mustard sauce. 

Diane Keaton is not the Diane for whom this dish is named of course, but I wanted to share a little slice of my Manhattan with you while paying tribute to an iconic lady who gave us such a lovely light.

Venison Steak Diane
Ingredients
1 Tbsp butter

1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
(4) 6-oz. center-cut venison tenderloin, ¾-inch thick (loin or top sirloin) or petit filet!
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
½ cup onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 cup mushrooms, diced
¼ cup cognac or other brandy
2 tsp Dijon mustard
2 tsp tomato paste
⅓ cup heavy cream (substitute evaporated skim milk to lighten things up)
⅓ cup veal demi-glace (try beef stock, mushroom stock, or consommé)

2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp scallions, finely chopped
1 tsp flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

Directions
1. In a large skillet, melt butter with olive oil. Pat the meat dry with a paper towel. Season meat with salt and pepper, and cook over high heat until lightly browned on the bottom, about one minute (do not turn or move steaks). Turn steaks and cook for one minute on the second side, then remove and tent in foil.

2. Add shallot and garlic to skillet and cook over medium-low heat, stirring, until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add mushrooms and cook until softened, about two minutes—transfer contents into a bowl.

3. Remove the pan from heat and add the cognac. Carefully ignite it and ensure there is nothing overhead. Let it burn for 20 seconds and stir the flames out. Add the mustard, tomato paste and cream, and stir until simmering on the edges. Stir in the veal demiglace, Worcestershire sauce, scallions and parsley, and stir to heat. Add the mushrooms and shallots.

4. Add meat and any juices to the pan and bring to a simmer for about one minute. Plate the meat and cover with sauce. Steaks can be sliced or served whole.

Dirt For Dinner

In honor of April Fool’s Day, I thought I’d share some of my foolish, food-ish notions...and a few recipe ideas!

I don’t mind telling you I ate dirt once. I was about five or so and I wanted to. I also used to wash my own mouth out with soap. In the event that I ever sassed my parents and was to be punished, I wanted to be prepared for the taste. Same went for when I would eat stale bread with a glass of water, in case I was ever thrown into jail. Also I had great plans for eventually opening a restaurant comprised only of marshmallows, served any way my clientele wished—lightly browned, a good fire on, or burned. Oh yes, left much to my own devices as a youth, I had a vivid interior life.

I held a couple of waiter jobs when I was in college and was terrible at it. As it wasn’t up to me to cook the food, I wasn’t overly concerned if it never made it to any of the customers’ tables in a timely manner. I was too busy anyway scarfing down the lobster meat from the walk-in refrigerator at one place and devouring chocolate peanut butter pie off the dessert cart at another. 

I learned some things though during those particular posts. I would recreate at home some of the dishes I served such as boboli crusts baked with gooey cheese, chopped fresh tomatoes, and crispy bacon, along with a few spoonfuls of indecent sour cream. I still love that. Once when I was a kitchen fledgling, I called my friend after I’d bought a chicken. I asked for any suggestions as to what to do with it. She suggested a sprinkling of lemon pepper in a 350 degree oven for 40 minutes or so depending on the size of the bird. Brilliant! 

But I never made a real meal until I was in my early 20’s. It was an asparagus souffle from the pages of the Silver Palate cookbook. I would call it successful, but having tried my hand at souffles subsequently over the years, let’s just call it beginner’s luck.

Working from home, I sometimes forget to eat. But even when I remember, I exercise portion control: I try everything on my plate, but I don’t eat all of it. Unless it’s absolutely astounding.

Thankfully I figured out how to cook and got a feel for creating a meal through persistence and experimentation, discovering what goes with what. My dinner guests are the better for it too and eagerly rush over, knowing I will earnestly try to serve them something else other than dirt for dinner.

BOOK/A TABLE - Halibut Burgers Dugléré

Going through books I’d read and probably no longer needed to keep in my already overstuffed bookshelves, I came across The Pigeon by Patrick Süskind (also author of the fantastically creepy Perfume: The Story of a Murderer). Before parting with it, I flipped through the pages and found I had tagged the following quote:

“People went off to drink an aperitif, to go to a restaurant, to go home. The air was soft with a slight fragrance of flowers. It had grown quiet. Paris was eating.”

Gorgeous! Now, how could I leave that book to languish in my building’s lending library in the laundry room?

I also thought the quote was an ideal accompaniment for my Halibut Dugléré recipe, inspired by French Chef Adolphe Dugléré, who toiled famously at the Café Anglais in 1866. He created Pommes Anna as well as Fish Dugléré made with his classic vin blanc sauce of wine, tomatoes, and parsley.

I created a variation of Fish Dugléré (the more elaborate recipe is below and linked here) by using pre-packaged halibut burgers and streamlining the rest for those evenings when you’d like something nice to serve, but don’t necessarily have a lot of time. My apologies to the great Chef Dugléré, who might have taken umbrage with such shortcuts!

Start by making the fish fumet (a concentrated, aromatic fish stock) or as I call mine, the much simpler faux fumet. This will be added to your sauce, which is similar to a tomato bruschetta. Also, I used evaporated lowfat milk to give body to the sauce, without all the fat from heavy whipping cream.

Halibut Burgers Dugléré

Serves 2

Ingredients
1 small can diced tomatoes
2 TB butter
2 teaspoons flour
1 cup faux fumet*
2 teaspoons chopped parsley
¼ cup evaporated lowfat milk

Salt
2 halibut burgers (or other fish patty, such as salmon), cooked according to packaging

Melt butter in a frying pan on medium heat, stir in flour, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add tomatoes and faux fumet, bring to a simmer, and cook for 3-5 minutes more. Add parsley and heat, then stir in condensed skim, but do not let boil. Finish with a pinch of salt.

Plate the fish and top with the sauce. Bon appetit!

*Faux Fumet (simple fish stock):
Ingredients
2 lbs fish bones
Peel of lemon, pith removed
5 peppercorns
Handful of frozen or fresh onions, chopped
Handful of frozen or fresh carrots, chopped

Handful of torn parsley 
2 bay leaves
Salt, to taste

Method
Cover fish bones with water in a large pot. Add other fumet ingredients and do something else while it simmers for about an hour; strain and set aside.

Fish Dugléré
Serves 4 
Ingredients
1.2 to 1.4 kg of round fresh white fish that can be filleted
20 g (0.7 oz) of butter
20 g (0.7 oz)of shallot (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of onions ( finely diced
400 g (14 oz) of tomatoes (skinned seeded and diced)
20 g (0.7 oz) chopped parsley
50 ml (1.7 fl oz) of white wine
300 ml (10 fl oz) pure cream (heavy whipping cream)

To make the fish stock:
20 g (0.7 oz) of plain butter
20 g (0.7 oz) of shallots (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of onions (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of carrots (roughly diced)
1 small handful of mushroom trimmings
Remaining fishbones from filleting the fish
1 bouquet garni
1/2 tsp of black peppercorns
1 tsp of salt
200 ml (6.8 fl oz) of white wine
Water to just cover the fish bones

Method
Start by washing, peeling and cutting the vegetables.

To make the chopped tomatoes: plunge the tomatoes into boiling water for 30 seconds then take them out and plunge them into icy water. The skin should detach easily with a knife. Remove the skin, cut the tomatoes in half and remove the seeds with a teaspoon. Roughly chop the tomatoes.

Wash and clean the fish and cut the fins with kitchen shears. Pat the fish dry and then fillet each fish. Transfer the fish filets to a container and keep covered in the fridge.

Keep the fish bones in a pan with cold water ready to make the fish stock.

To prepare the fish fumet, place a large sauce pan on the stove on medium heat and melt the butter until it starts to foam.

Add the vegetables and cook for 2 minutes. Drain the fish bones and add them to the pan mixing well.

Pour in the white wine followed by enough water to just cover the fish bones. Add the bouquet garni and the salt and pepper.

Bring the stock to the boil then simmer for 25 minutes uncovered.

Filter the stock through a sieve into a separate container and leave to cool down.

While the stock is cooling down, prepare the rice, potatoes or sides you plan to serve with the fish,

To cook the fish, coat the bottom of a a deep saute pan or large stainless saucepan with butter followed by some salt and pepper. Then sprinkle in the shallots, onions and parsley.

Place the fish filet over the garnish next to each other and pour in the wine (avoid pouring the wine directly on the fish filets to avoid them turning a dark greyish colour). Add some cold fish stock, 3 quarters of the way up to the fish filets. Then cover the fish with a circle of baking paper which will act as a lid.

Turn the heat to medium and bring slowly to a simmer. As soon as the stock is simmering, transfer the pan to a preheated oven at 170°C/338°°F and cook for a maximum of 5 to 6 minutes.

As soon as the fish is out of the oven start making the sauce. Things have to happen quickly as your fish will starting cooling down.

Transfer the fish cooking juices to a clean large bottom pan (this will facilitate the reduction).

Reduce the the cooking juices to a syrupy consistency on high heat and then add the cream. Reduce by half until the sauce starts to thicken. Add the chopped tomatoes and stir gently taking care not to colour the sauce too much with the tomatoes.

Turn the heat off and add 20 grams of butter, stirring gently until the butter is melted into the sauce.

Serve immediately on individual plates or in a dish.

The Clue in the Laundry Room

I have this memory of a book about house plants my first grade teacher Ms. B. had. She was also growing an avocado on her desk, which was right next to mine. During Reading Time, I remember being interested in her book more than my own, staring fascinated at some sort of frilly greens on the cover. I can picture her too, with the gentle sunlight on her shoulders, as she read her book of plants. There was something so civilized about it, seems to me now. I was also quite curious about that avocado pit she had stuck with toothpicks and suspended over a glass of water.

Flash forward to roughly fifty years later. While perusing our building’s lending library in the laundry room, my attention was drawn to the spine of a book lettered in green. I felt a slight tingle. Investigating further, I saw it was Joan Lee Faust’s Book of House Plants, a title unfamiliar to me and yet, was it...? I suddenly thought it might the same book my teacher once had. I slid it out of the shelf, and noted it was published in 1973, just about the time I was in first grade. And there were instructions inside about how to grow an avocado from a pit!

I called my mother (a.k.a. the Miss Marple of my hometown in NH) who is still friendly with Ms. B. Mom was happy to tackle the case and asked my teacher if she knew what book I was talking about. She did. It was certainly Joan Lee Faust’s Book of House Plants that I had gazed upon in the first grade. What are the chances of that? She still had her time-worn copy, too—and was more than happy to send it to me, perhaps somewhat astonished that I remembered the whole thing at all.

Although I have yet to grow my own avocado plant, I delight in this fresh as spring avocado and grapefruit salad a friend once made for me when I was still learning my way around the kitchen. It is so  simple to make, yet deliciously clever enough to truly impress your guests!

And just to be clear, homegrown avocados are great, but in this case, store-bought will do just fine.

Grapefruit, Avocado and Arugula Salad

Ingredients
1 small pink grapefruit (or perhaps a jar, if you’d rather)
1 small or 1/2 large avocado
1-1/2 cups baby arugula or mixed lettuces
2 tsp walnut or hazelnut oil
1-2 tsp aged balsamic vinegar
Coarse salt and fresh ground pepper

Method
With a sharp knife, cut off the ends of the grapefruit and slice off the peel and pith. Working over a bowl (it saves the juice and cuts way down on mess) cut into segments by slicing on either side of each piece of membrane to release the slices. If the grapefruit sections are very big, cut in half lengthwise. (If you’re doing this ahead of time, leave the segments in the juice so they don’t dry out.)

Just before serving, cut, peel and slice the avocado. Lay it cut side down on the board and slice into 5 or 6 slices.

To serve, divide the arugula or lettuce between two salad plates. Interleave the grapefruit and avocado slices over the greens (depending on the size of your grapefruit, you may have more grapefruit than avocado).

Drizzle with the oil and balsamic, then sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Do enjoy! (And thanks to Ms. B., a wonderful teacher and a true inspiration!)

BOOK/A TABLE - Cabbage Tarte Tatin

With the advent of St. Patrick’s Day, we find the first day of spring around the corner (next week!) and hopefully, the Blizzard of 2026 far behind us. This savory tarte tatin, dressed up with white balsamic, thyme, Dijon mustard, and Gruyère is a perfect use of the cabbage so closely associated with the holiday. And this quote furnished from my mother’s copy (1901!) of Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch by Alice Caldwell Hegan delightfully sums up the eagerness we feel with the change of season.

“But the Cabbage Patch knew it was spring, nevertheless; something whispered it in the air, a dozen little signs gave the secret away; weeds were springing up in the fence corners, the puddles which a few months ago were covered with ice now reflected bits of blue sky, warm sunshine that clung to the earth as if to love it back into beauty and life again.”

Now, although Mrs. Wiggs lived in the Cabbage Patch, it was not an actual patch of cabbage, but rather a ‘queer neighborhood where ramshackle cottages played hop-scotch over the railroad tracks.’ 

I hope you do enjoy this Cabbage Tarte Tatin in whichever patch you may find yourself celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Also, consider this Guinness Beef Stew with Horseradish Cream—with Chocolate Guinness Cake for a staggering conclusion!

Cabbage Tarte Tatin
Serves 8

Ingredients
1/2 refrigerated store-bought pie dough 
1/2 cup granulated sugar (4 ounces; 113 g)
6 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar (3 ounces; 90 ml), divided
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 ounce; 28 g)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme leaves, plus more for garnish
1 1/2 teaspoons (5 g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt; for table salt, use half as much by volume or the same weight
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 small green cabbage head (2 to 3 pounds; 908 to1.3 kg), cut into 1-inch wedges with core intact
1 tablespoon (14 g) unsalted butter, softened
2 ounces (56 g) Gruyère cheese, shredded (1/2 cup)

Directions
Remove dough from packaging, and transfer to a large, flat plate lined with parchment, or another similar arrangement. Working around circumference, fold 1/2 inch of dough over itself and pinch to create 9-inch round with raised rim. Cut three 2-inch slits in center of dough, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Place sugar and 2 tablespoons (30ml) of the vinegar in a 10-inch oven-safe stainless-steel skillet; heat over low, undisturbed, swirling and tilting pan occasionally, until mixture is light golden brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Increase heat to medium-low; swirl in butter, Dijon, thyme, salt, black pepper, and remaining 4 tablespoons (60ml) vinegar; cook, stirring often, until thick and deep golden, 7 to 9 minutes. Remove from heat, pour in even layer into bottom of a 13-by 9-inch baking dish; clean and dry skillet. Place cabbage wedges in baking dish, overlapping as needed. (They won’t fit in an even layer, but will shrink as they cook). Bake, gently turning wedges every 20 minutes, until very tender and golden brown, about 1 hour.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels. Using a slotted spoon or slotted fish spatula, transfer cabbage to the prepared baking sheet, arranging wedges in an even layer, and allow drain. Discard remaining liquids from baking dish. Using clean paper towels, firmly press cabbage wedges to soak up any excess moisture.

Grease cleaned skillet with softened butter; arrange roasted cabbage wedges tightly in an even layer in rose pattern: Beginning in center of skillet, place small leaves/bits, slightly overlapping as needed; working out towards sides of pan, place cabbage wedges with narrow edge facing toward center, overlapping as needed until all wedges are used. Sprinkle evenly with Gruyère.

Carefully place pastry, rim side down, over cabbage, making sure it is centered and not touching skillet sides. Bake at 400°F until crust is golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Transfer skillet to wire rack set; let cool for 5 minutes. Run a sharp knife or small offset around edges to loosen; place a plate over skillet, carefully invert tarte tatin onto plate. Garnish with additional thyme; slice and serve immediately.

Kitchen Cupboard Duck

Instead of rescuing lost dogs or cats, my father would often return home with stray produce, such as sugar cane and pomegrantes, gathered up from the wilderness formerly known as the 1970’s supermarket. It was a way of encouraging us to be curious about trying new things. 

Similarly, my husband orders random kitchen gadgets online that show up at our door and he also brings home various stray cuts of meat when Whole Foods has 50% discounts (which is usually the last day of sale). Duck went on offer not too long ago and we made duck confit from the legs and froze the breasts. 

I was eager to get going when I found this super recipe for pan-fried duck breast from British celebrity chef and restaurateur Jamie Oliver. After scouring the cupboards for the few other ingredients, I set to work. We certainly already had the duck!

The dish features Oliver’s singular, simple style, which has alway found lots of flavor from a wild assortment of fresh herbs. Here, you’ll just need rosemary—and as I discovered, a tablespoon or so of fine herbes works just fine in a pinch.  

Pan-Fried Duck Breast
Ingredients
1 free-range duck breast (250g)
2 rashers of higher-welfare smoked streaky bacon (I used some leftover Polish bacon but any hearty strips will do)
2 cloves of garlic
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary (or a tablespoon or so of fine herbes)
Red wine vinegar
1 x 560g jar of white beans (a 15 oz can of butter beans worked out quite nicely)
100g spinach (I only had a bag of frozen green beans in the house, great substitute!)

Method
Score the skin of the duck breast at roughly one inch (2 cm) intervals, then season with sea salt and black pepper.

Place the duck skin-side down in a cold non-stick frying pan, then turn the heat on to medium-high. Cook for 8 minutes without moving it, or until the fat is well rendered and the skin is golden and crispy.

Meanwhile, finely chop the bacon. Peel and finely slice the garlic.

Turn the duck over and cook for 4 minutes on the other side, then remove to a plate to rest, leaving the pan of duck fat on the heat.

Sprinkle the bacon and garlic into the hot pan, strip in the rosemary leaves and cook for 2 minutes, or until golden, stirring regularly.

Add a splash of red wine vinegar and stir to pick up any sticky bits, then pour in the beans, juice and all. Simmer for a couple of minutes, then stir through the spinach until wilted (I added in the frozen green beans, simmering until warmed through).

Slice the duck breast at an angle. Divide the bean mixture between your plates and arrange the duck on top, spooning over any resting juices, to finish.

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK/A TABLE - A Simple Supper

When I’m fed up with take-out options (and delivery fees!) and don’t crave anything in particular, but still feel the need to be fed, I start freezer-diving, sifting through the bergs of various meats to see what’s available for supper. Following the selection of a worthy protein, I then try to utilize one of the cookbooks lining our kitchen shelves to find a recipe that features ingredients we already have on hand. 

In these last-minute instances, I don’t want to run out to the grocery store of course or make anything overly complicated: chicken breasts from the freezer and my good old reliable Barbara Pym Cookbook won a recent round.

I ended up making fragrant Chicken Tarragon, served with a side of canned lentils, and unboxed some Jell-O chocolate pudding for a finish. It was as simple as you’d suppose, and oh-so-tasty.

The lentils can be prepared with a bit of simmered white wine or broth, garlic, and a bay leaf thrown in, but if you have time and the inclination, try these gorgeous Lentilles du Puy. Should you wish to think outside of the Jell-O box, look to this Mousse au Chocolat.

From Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women, Mrs. Bone speaks most vividly of The Dominion of the Birds, that apocalyptic scenario where our avian friends end up ruling the roost: “I very much fear it may come to that...I eat as many birds as possible,” said Mrs. Bone when we were sitting down to roast chicken. “I have them sent from Harrods or Fortnum’s, and I sometimes go and look at them in the cold meats department. They do them up very prettily with aspic jelly and decorations. At least we can eat our enemies.”

Chew on that. Delicious!

 

 
Chicken with Tarragon
Ingredients
One chicken, cut into 8 pieces (I just used two chicken breasts)
3 tablespoons butter or oil
One small onion, chopped
One tablespoon flour
One glass white wine
Half cup chicken stock
Finely chopped tarragon leaves to taste (dried worked out well)
Salt and pepper to taste

Method
Sauteed chicken pieces in butter or oil until lightly browned. Removed to a platter and keep warm period in the same pan, sauteed chopped onion, stir in flour, and cook 2 to 3 minutes. Add wine, stock, tarragon, and seasonings. Cook to reduce somewhat. Return chicken pieces to pan, cover, and simmer in sauce 20 minutes. To serve, place chicken pieces on a platter and pour sauce over.

BOOK/A TABLE - French Onion White Bean Soup

Cooking is often one disaster after another, Julia Child once said (or something like it) and I was reminded of that very notion while making this vegetarian French Onion Soup from The New York Times. The melted butter for the crouton sauce curdled when I added mustard and when I opened the thrifty portion of shredded Gruyère cheese I’d been harboring in the fridge, I discovered the underbelly had gone green. 

French Onion Soup without cheese? Quelle horreur!

I threw out the curdled mess and brushed my croutons with plain melted butter instead and skipped the cheese all together (I wasn’t going out shopping for more). However, despite these setbacks, the dish turned out to be quite full-flavored, even without the cheese! The use of white beans laced with thyme is a genius idea and I heartily suggest you try it. 

The meal was just for me and my husband, not a panel of judges (or unruly acquaintances), so it would have hardly mattered if I’d just decided to scrap the whole thing and ordered pizza instead. I would have preferred to have made this particular recipe as written, but the point is that guests rarely need to be any the wiser of your culinary disasters. 

In other words: what happens in the kitchen stays the kitchen. 

And as I’m currently poring over Emile Zola’s L’Assommoir, how could I not include this quote from it? 

“‘Coo!’ remarked Coupeau when they reached the first floor landing, ‘it don’t half niff of onion soup! Somebody’s been having onion soup, that’s certain!’” 

Perhaps, Coupeau. But I doubt very much it was made with white beans! Do enjoy. 

French Onion White Bean Soup
By Hetty Lui McKinnon
Makes 4 servings

Ingredients
For the Soup
2 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter
4 medium yellow onions (about 2 pounds), thinly sliced
1 teaspoon thyme leaves (from 4 to 5 sprigs)
1 teaspoon sugar
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon soy sauce or tamari
4 cups vegetable stock
2( 14-ounce) cans white beans, such as cannellini or butter beans, drained

For the Gruyère Croutons
2 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter
1 teaspoon Dijon or whole-grain mustard
1 teaspoon thyme leaves (from 4 to 5 sprigs), plus more for garnish
Salt and pepper
½ pound bread, such as sourdough or ciabatta, cut into 1-inch chunks
3 ounces Gruyère cheese, finely grated

Preparation
Step 1
Prepare the soup: Melt the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high. Once the butter has melted, add onions, thyme, sugar and 1 teaspoon salt, and stir to combine. Cover and cook, stirring every 2 minutes, until the onions are very soft and caramelized, about 20 minutes. If the onions start to burn, reduce heat to medium.

Step 2
Meanwhile, make the croutons: Heat the oven to 350 degrees and line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Place the butter in a large bowl and microwave on high for 30 to 45 seconds (or melt over medium heat in a small pot or skillet). To the butter, add the mustard and thyme, season with salt and black pepper, and whisk to combine. Add the bread pieces and toss very well until coated. Transfer the pieces to the lined sheet pan, spreading them out into a single layer, and scatter the cheese on top. Bake until golden, 16 to 18 minutes.

Step 3
Uncover the onions and add the balsamic vinegar and soy sauce. Stir the onions vigorously to deglaze the pan. Stir in the vegetable stock and the beans. Cover and cook on medium heat for 10 minutes. Season with salt and lots of pepper.

Step 4
To serve, ladle the soup into bowls, top with the croutons and scatter over thyme leaves.

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

 

“Emotions would be half starved if there were no candlelight.”

—Desperate Remedies, Thomas Hardy

BOOK/A TABLE - A Love Letter

A new version of Wuthering Heights is fast upon us in time for Valentine’s Day. I hear the movie is ‘loosely-based’ on Emily Brontë’s novel, focusing rather more on the love affair between Cathy and Heathcliff as adults, as depicted by its stars Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi. 

I’ll see it of course, but in the meantime, I’d like to bring up a little-discussed aspect of Miss Brontë’s romances—namely, her love affair with books! In Chapter 17 of Wuthering Heights, she writes via the character of Mr. Lockwood:

“No books!” I exclaimed. “How do you contrive to live here without them? If I may take the liberty to inquire—Though provided with a large library, I’m frequently very dull at the Grange—take my books away, and I should be desperate!”

Yes, where would we be without books, without love? Desperate!

I love that Wuthering Heights exists in the world because Emily Brontë dared to imagine it. This post is a love letter to her, then, flung across the moors of which she dreamed long ago. But I will always keep this gentle, final paragraph from Wuthering Heights close to my heart:

“I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath, and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.”

Enjoy this remarkably simple chocolate raspberry clafoutis, mostly done in a blender, and meant to inspire romance in every heart! (The heart-shaped cocotte from Le Creuset may be found here.)

Chocolate Raspberry Clafoutis
Adapted from Gourmet 

Ingredients
12 oz fresh raspberries
1 tbsp sugar
1 cup whole milk
1/2 stick unsalted butter (melted)
3 large eggs
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/3 cup flour
2 tbsp cocoa powder
1/4 tsp salt
3-3.5 oz bittersweet chocolate (chopped)

Method
Preheat to 400°F. Toss berries with sugar. Blend milk, butter, eggs, brown sugar, flour, cocoa, and salt. Pour batter over berries in a baking dish and bake for about 35 minutes, then top with chopped chocolate.

P.S. I recently ordered this gorgeously painted, gilt-edged deluxe edition of Wuthering Heights from Harper Muse! Other titles include The Secret Garden, The Return of Sherlock Holmes, and The Great Gatsby.

Chicken Financiere

I have kept datebooks since 1988, daily jotting down where I’ve been, who I was with, and what dishes I made, along with a list of books I’ve read that particular year. Naturally, this can open a flood gate of memories...recently “fact-checking” something from 1997, I came across an entry that included Chicken Financiere. I was reminded that my friend Armando had come from Caracas for the week to celebrate my 30th birthday (it was also a reunion of sorts) and I’d wanted to make a home-cooked meal to welcome him.

The grocery landscape in Manhattan was quite different back then (before Fresh Direct, Whole Foods, Wegman’s, and the rest) and often entailed foraging through several markets and perhaps a specialty shop to find all the necessary ingredients. It’s funny to think how I must have dragged Armando halfway across town to find Castelvetrano olives and chicken livers for my Financiere.

I had met my handsome Armando and his best friend one delicious summer evening while walking through Times Square in 1992. They were visiting and I had just moved to town. They stopped me in the street, asking if I knew of a decent bar nearby. Of course, I did. One bar turned into several others and by the end of the wonderful evening, we wrote our home addresses down (remember that?) with a promise to keep in touch.

Armando and I still do keep in touch (it was his birthday a few weeks ago), but alas, he and his friend do not. I later learned they had a big fight (over me!) that night we all met in Times Square and parted ways, never to speak again. I was sorry to hear the news at the time, but after all these years...I delight in the idea that I inspired such a heated rivalry.

Do enjoy!

Chicken Financiere
Adapted from cdkitchen
Serves 4

Ingredients:
3 1/2 pounds chicken, cut into 8 pieces
salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
4 chicken livers
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons flour
1/2 cup minced scallions, white parts only
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
4 medium white mushrooms, chopped
2 1/2 cups beef stock
1 cup red wine
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh parsley
1 pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 cup large green olives, pitted and sliced

Directions:
Rinse chicken, pat dry, and season with salt and pepper.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, brown chicken for about 6 minutes per side. Remove and set aside. Add livers to skillet and cook for about 30 seconds per side. Remove and set aside.

Pour off fat, add butter, and melt over medium-low heat. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until mixture turns golden brown, about 10 minutes.

Add scallions, garlic, and mushrooms and cook, stirring, until fragrant, 2 minutes more. Whisk in stock, wine, tomato paste, and parsley. Increase heat to medium, bring to a simmer, and cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce is thickened, about 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and cayenne pepper.

Add olives, chicken, and livers to the sauce. Reduce heat to low, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until juices run clear, about 25 minutes.

Divide chicken and livers between serving plates, coat with sauce, and serve. Garnish with additional parsley if desired.

A Bee Sting in a Blizzard

I nearly went mad when a friend mentioned her Bee Sting Cake over dinner the other night. Talk of the German cake (bienenstich - bee sting, get it?) stuffed with vanilla pudding cream and topped with honey buttery almond goo sounded so staggeringly delicious I had to try and make it myself. Since a blizzard was upon us and I wasn’t going anywhere, I shut off my phone, put on these Bach fugues and set to work. Without further preamble, let’s begin!

Bee Sting Cake is a stunner for sure, and not terribly difficult to achieve. I think the biggest challenge was trying to slice the thin cake evenly in half. You definitely want a good 10” serrated knife and patience. If you have problems cutting the cake evenly, remember the bottom layer will be covered with filling and the top is camouflaged by all the honey buttery almond goo. I managed to keep the cake intact, but if any of it falls apart in the process, just cut and paste, and your guests will be little the wiser—too busy ooh-ing and aah-ing with their eyes closed to notice anyway!

Organization was key, at least for me. I think it’s a good idea to put out your bowls, pans, and measured ingredients ahead of time (maybe keep the milk and heavy cream in the fridge until needed), so you’re not rushing wild to find that darn palette knife, that roll of parchment somewhere, etc. 

Place the items you’ll need in three separate groups for the three stages of the recipe: the making of the cake, the topping, and the filling. There is some downtime between the stages, so if you’re feeling reckless you can sort through your cookware and ingredients then. 

My comments below are in italics. And note the little bee ornament I perched on top of a slice!

German Bienenstich (Bee Sting Cake)
Adapted from internationaldessertsblog.com
Yield: 9 slices

Ingredients
Cake
1 1/2  (additional 1/4 cup, if needed) all-purpose flour 
2 TB [30g] sugar
2 tsp [1/4 oz / 7g] fast rising yeast (a.k.a. one packet)
Pinch of salt
1 egg
1/4 cup [57g]  melted butter 
1/3 cup [75ml] milk

Topping
1/2 cup [113g] butter
1 TB honey
5-6 TB sugar (see note below)
1 1/2 TB heavy whipping cream
1 TB vanilla sugar or 1 tsp vanilla extract (go with vanilla extract)
3/4 cup [80g] sliced almonds

Filling
2 cups [400ml] heavy whipping cream
3 Tbsp vanilla pudding powder
1 tsp vanilla sugar or 1 tsp vanilla extract (go with the vanilla extract)

Pinch of salt  

Instructions

1. Mix flour, sugar, yeast, and salt together in a medium sized mixing bowl. Add melted butter, egg, and milk. Mix with a wooden spoon until a soft dough forms into a ball. If the dough is sticky, add a little more flour until it no longer sticks to your fingers.

2. Knead dough 5-7 times in the bowl until it looks and feels smooth.

3. Cover dough with a towel and let it rest for 30 minutes.

4. Pre-heat oven to 350F/176C.

5. To make the honey almond topping, melt butter, honey, sugar, and vanilla sugar in a saucepan over medium low heat. Once the butter has melted, add the cream and then mix until the sugar is dissolved.

6. Remove saucepan from heat and stir in sliced almonds (and vanilla extract if you’re using this instead of vanilla sugar). Keep the topping warm until you're ready to use it.

7. Place a sheet of parchment paper in an 8x8 inch (20x20 cm) baking pan so the edges hang over the sides. Press dough into the pan and then prick dough several times with a fork.

8. Pour the topping onto the dough and spread evenly. Bake for about 30 minutes (check at 25 minutes and then bake 5-7 minutes longer as needed). The topping will be golden brown when done.

9. Let the cake cool in the cake pan for a few minutes. Grab the sides of the parchment paper and transfer the cake to a wire rack. Let the cake cool for 10-20 minutes.

10. When you can comfortably touch the cake with your fingers, use a long serrated knife to cut the cake lengthwise in two thin layers.

11. Transfer the top layer to a cutting board and use the same serrated knife to cut the top layer (the one with the topping) into nine pieces. It’s MUCH easier to cut this top layer when the cake is still a warm rather than waiting to cut it when you're ready to serve it (if you wait until after the cake has chilled, you’re likely to squish the filling out the sides when you cut it). Let the bottom and top layer pieces cool.

12. While the cake cools, prepare the filling. Pour the heavy cream into a medium sized mixing bowl. Add the pudding powder and vanilla sugar (or extract) and first beat to soft peaks. (When the filling beats to peaks that sink back down.) Taste the filling and, if desired, add more pudding powder or vanilla. (Stir, don’t beat, any added powder or vanilla in, so as not to beat the filling too much.)

13. Place the bottom cake layer on a plate. Spread the filling on the bottom cake layer using a palette knife. Then carefully place the nine top layer pieces on the cream filling, piece by piece. Cover or wrap cake in plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for 1 hour or until the filling is set.

14. When you’re ready to serve the cake, let it warm up for a few minutes before slicing and serving. Be careful not to not press down too hard on the top layer when cutting the bottom layer because the filling will spill out.

15. This cake is best eaten the day you make it. (I thought it was pretty tasty the next day too.)

At The Kids' Table!

While I was in New Hampshire over the holidays I unearthed my very first cookbook, liberating it after so many years from the dank (and as I’ve long suspected, haunted) cellar in my parents’ house.

Easy to Make Good to Eat (1976) by Martha Olson Condit, available exlusively through my first grade Scholastic Book Club, offered a bunch of interactive recipes intended to get children and their folks involved with cooking. 

I figure at least a few of you have wee ones and may sometimes find yourselves wracking your brains for ways to entertain them. Over the years, I’ve offered some kid-friendly suggestions here, including recipes for hot dog octopuses, sloppy joes with blackeyed peas, and of course, how to eat jellybeans for breakfast. For the worst thing I ever made when I was a kid, click here. 

And now, a peek into Easy to Make Good to Eat! Apart from shakes and open-face sandwiches listed in the cookbook, I totally remember making these Mini Pizzas (and my first fondant as well, but we needn’t go into that here). So, I recently whipped up a couple pizzas wrought from English muffins, ketchup, and a few Kraft Singles lurking in the fridge (they never really expire). 

You know what? Still delicious!

And a bonus for the adults—these Mini Pizzas absolutely slay late-nite munchies. 

Mini Pizza
Adaptred from Easy to Make Good to Eat by Martha Olson Condit

Ingredients:
English muffins
Ketchup
Slices of American cheese
Oregano
Somes grated Parmesan cheese

This is what you do:

Ask a grown-up to turn the oven on.
It should be set at 350 degrees.

1. Take 2 muffins. Use a fork to split them. You will have four pieces. Toast them. Put the pieces on the cookie sheet. Keep the cut side up.

2. Do these things to each piece of muffin:
Spread 1 tablespoon of ketchup over it. Put a slice of cheese on the ketchup. Sprinkle 3 pinches of oregano over the cheese.
Shake some Parmesan cheese all over the top.

3. Use a pot holder in each hand.
Put the cookie sheet in the oven.
Wait for 10 minutes.
Use your pot holders. Open the oven door.
Look Has the cheese melted? Yes.
Then the pizzas are done. Put the cookie sheet on the cutting board.
Use the spatula and lift one pizza out and put it on a plate
Put two pizzas on a plate.

Ask a grown-up to turn the oven off.

Now you know how to make a good ‘filler-upper.’ It is pretty too.

Do enjoy and oh yes, whatever you do any time you set a table, by all means make it pretty!

BOOK/A TABLE - Rissoles for Dummies!

I always keep the seasons in mind when choosing my next read (The Enchanted April in spring, Jaws over July 4th—that sort of thing) and what is better paired with a bleak winter than a Russian novel? A friend had been urging me to read Dostoevsky’s The Idiot and after pushing Doctor Zhivago aside (I could only withstand about 50 pages), I dug in—and what a wild ride it was. Often feeling like fever dream, the novel is deliberately obscure, leaving us wondering at the truth, much like our hero (the good-hearted, purported “idiot”), Prince Lev Nikolayevich Myshkin. Having devoured The Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment, I’m definitely Team Dostoevsky. Sorry, Tolstoy.

The characters do manage to eat well though, and this section certainly sparked my interest:

“In addition to tea, coffee, cheese, honey, butter, the special thick pancakes that were the favourite of the general’s wife, rissoles and so on, a strong hot bouillon was even sometimes served. On the morning our narrative begins, the entire household had gathered in the dining room...”

Now, I love pancakes, but what were rissoles? A quick survey of Wikipedia explained they are a kind of spiced meatball, flattened, then coated in breadcrumbs, and fried. Great with mashed potatoes and green beans. Certainly, nothing lost in translation there—a real no-brainer! 

Do enjoy!

Rissoles
Adapted from simplehomeedit.com

Serves 4

Ingredients
500 g (1 lb 2 oz) regular minced (ground) beef (can be substituted with minced pork or chicken)
1 onion, grated (or finely chopped)
1 tsp freshly minced garlic
1 egg
1 cup breadcrumbs (store-bought, panko or homemade)
1 tbsp ketchup
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
½ tsp freshly cracked black pepper
1 tsp salt or beef or chicken stock powder (bouillon)
3 tbsp olive oil, for frying

Parsley, finely chopped, for garnish  

Instructions
Make the rissole mixture – Add the minced beef, onion, minced garlic, egg, breadcrumbs, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, pepper and salt or stock powder to a large mixing bowl. Use your hands to combine and roll the mixture into portions the size of golf balls. Flatten using the palm of your hand to form the rissoles.

Cook the rissoles – Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-based frying pan over medium–low heat. Cook the rissoles for 8–10 minutes until browned and cooked through, turning once halfway through. Cook in batches if you need to, so that the pan isn’t crowded – this will prevent the rissoles steaming in the pan and will ensure a golden crust. Set the rissoles aside on a plate.

Make a gravy with the pan juices (optional) – Turn the heat off. Drain any excess oil from the bottom of the pan using a serving spoon and then, while the pan is still hot, add 2–3 tablespoons of water. Use a spoon to scrape up all of the pan drippings.

Serve – Drizzle the pan juices over the rissoles and serve with your favourite sides.

OR To cook the rissoles in an air fryer – Preheat your air fryer to 180°C (350°F) for about 3–5 minutes.

Lightly spray or brush both sides of the rissoles with olive oil to ensure they brown evenly.

Place the rissoles in a single layer in the air fryer basket, ensuring they are not touching. Cook in batches if needed to avoid overcrowding.

Air fry the rissoles for 10–12 minutes, flipping them halfway through the cooking time. Quick note when air frying: must be made with regular minced (ground) beef, not lean as it’s too dry!

 

Thanks to madhousefamilyreviews.blogspot.com for the photo!

BOOK/A TABLE - Lemon Cakes

People always say it’s a bad idea to meet your idols. I think it’s also a risky proposition to reacquaint yourself with a book you once worshipped. It’s not always a triumphant reunion.

In my 20s, I plunged into The Fountainhead with abandon and told everybody about it before subsequently tearing through the weighty Atlas Shrugged (The Fountainhead, also of considerable length, seemed really just a preface afterward!). Both books colored my world, imbuing real people, places, and events with the fiction I read in the pages. I didn’t care much for Rand’s objectivist theories though, but sure delighted in the exciting plots that reminded me of Valley of the Dolls (and that, to me, is high praise).

While I definitely think The Fountainhead is still pretty cool, I didn’t respond to it with nearly as much fervor this time. Perhaps the passions of Ayn Rand are best consumed when one is young and impressionable. I’m not sure I want to tamper with my memories further by venturing back into Atlas Shrugged.

The following quote from The Fountainhead is the most memorable for me these days, neatly incorporating two of my favorite things: a nice sit-down tea and a murder mystery.

“Ah, there’s nothing like tea in the afternoon. When the British Empire collapses, historians will find that it had made but two invaluable contributions to civilization—this tea ritual and the detective novel.”

In a happy accident, I came across How to Cook the Victorian Way by Annie Gray and Andrew Hann in our laundry room’s lending library and was rather taken by this recipe for Lemon Cakes, perfect for teatime. The cookbook includes recipes from Avis Crocombe, head cook at Audley End in the 1880s. It is certainly a handsome tome, with a ton of gorgeous pictures. Although many of the recipes seem to require staff for the assembly and presentation, here instead is the much simpler recipe for Lemon Cakes.

Lemon Cakes
Makes 12

Ingredients:
200 g/7 oz/scant 1 cup of caster sugar (or regular granular sugar, pulsed in a food processor)
7 eggs, separated
Finely grated zest and juice of 2 lemons
2 tsps rose water, or a few drops of rose extract
2 tsps icing sugar (confectioner’s sugar)
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar (optional)*
170 g/6 oz/1 1/3 cups flour, sifted, plus extra for the molds
Butter, for the molds
*The use of cream of tartar is included here just to guarantee a rise if you are not using a copper bowl.

Method:
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F.

Whisk the caster sugar in a bowl with the egg yolks, lemon zest and juice, and rose water until light and fluffy.

Whisk the egg whites and icing sugar in a separate bowl. Adding the cream of tartar will help to stabilize the foam if you are not using a copper bowl. Carefully fold the sifted flour and meringue alternately into the yolk mix, ending with the last of the meringue.

Butter and flour 12 dariole molds or small but deep muffin tins. Divide the mix between them, then give them a good tap on the work service to remove any air.

Bake for 15 to 18 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.

Invert the molds onto a wire rack and allow it to cool, before gently easing the cakes out.