Signs of August What’s cooking? Chilled Corn Soup with Honeydew Dots

One of the phenomena that I have observed as my children got older was the way I lose track – other than through the weather – of the seasons and the attendant holidays. Columbus Day, Veterans Day, Presidents’ Day, Spring Break, Fall Break ... they come and go with hardly a nod. Absent the monthly notices from school, or the thematic artwork for my refrigerator, or even the need to find child care on days that were observed by the school system but not by my Wall Street employer, I find myself halfway through the fall before I realize I have to start thinking about Thanksgiving. Even the great secondary holidays – Valentines’ Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Halloween – almost escape my notice.

But here in Jersey City, I have a new seasonal marker: I can trace the year’s progress through the activity on the athletic field outside our condo window. I can watch lacrosse in the spring, football in the fall, and various sports camps – primarily soccer – all summer. So how do I know summer is almost over? The football players are finally practicing in full uniform.

Happy 100th, Gladys! What’s cooking? Apple Pie with Cheddar Crust

Yesterday was my mother-in-law’s 100th birthday. At a two-day celebration last weekend, she allowed as how she thought she was finally ready to offer advice if anyone wanted some. Sure, when she was born, there were no televisions or cell phones or computers. There also were no radio broadcasts (1920), no Band-Aids (1920) or hair dryers (1920), no automobiles with combustion engines (1920), no bras (1913) or Q-Tips (1920) or Kool-Aid (1927), and no penicillin (1928). It’s hard for me to even imagine that world.

Gladys didn’t have anything to do with bringing combustion engines or Band-Aids or Kool-Aid into our lives; but with her husband, she did raise three children to be good and responsible citizens. And I was lucky enough to meet one of them and marry him.

When she was in the 5th or 6th grade, Gladys and five friends established themselves as the Pollyanna Club. They wanted to keep the club small and special, so even when one of the girls moved away, they didn’t replace her. The motto of the Pollyanna Club was “Have a good time”; so, according to Gladys, “We had saved some money and were going to give it to the Red Cross, but we decided to go out to dinner instead.” Now, that’s my kind of group.

Gladys shares her birthday with Davy Crockett, Mae West, writers Ted Hughes and V.S. Naipaul, actors Robert DeNiro and Sean Penn, and the millionaire art collector and philanthropist John Hay Whitney. Lots of accomplishments there, but none of them could make an apple pie like hers.

She never wrote down the recipe, and now it’s been too many years since she rolled one out; but she assures me there was nothing in the filling but apples and cinnamon and a little sugar. The following recipe, which is adapted from the September 2009 issue of Gourmet, is a real keeper, with much the same flavor of Gladys’s pie. I’m particularly fond of the bit of cheese in the crust – it adds to the flakiness, and the combo of cheese with apples is a perennial favorite.

Kitchen Goddess tips on pie-making:

 #1: Be sure to leave small bits of butter unincorporated – unlike the creaming process for cakes, where the mixture should be smooth – to produce little pockets of air in your crust, for flakiness.

#2: To keep the dough from sticking (my major problem in disasters past), follow the directions to chill it well before rolling it out, and throw down plenty of flour on the counter. Rotate the dough a quarter turn after each couple of swipes with the rolling pin. Roll with even, steady strokes all across the dough circle until you get it down to a ⅛-inch thickness.

#3: The milk wash, brushed over the exposed part of the crust, will help it brown and will add to the flavor of the crust because of the natural sugar in the milk.

Apple Pie with Cheddar Crust, adapted from Gourmet magazine, September 2009







For pastry:
2½ cups all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ pound extra-sharp Cheddar (preferably white), coarsely grated (2½ cups)
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces
¼ cup cold vegetable shortening, cut into ½-inch pieces
6-8 tablespoons ice water
1 tablespoon milk (for brushing on crust)

For filling:
1½ pound Gala apples (3 medium)
1½ pound Granny Smith apples (3 medium)
⅔ cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter

Make pastry dough: 
Stir together flour, salt, and cheese in a large bowl (or pulse in a food processor). Add butter and shortening and blend with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse) just until mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-size butter lumps. Drizzle 6 tablespoons ice water evenly over mixture and gently stir with a fork (or pulse) until incorporated.

Squeeze a small handful: If dough doesn't hold together, add more ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring (or pulsing) until incorporated. Do not overwork dough or pastry will be tough.

Turn out dough onto a work surface and divide in half, then form each half into a 5" disk. Chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, at least 1 hour.

Make filling and bake pie: 
Put a large baking sheet in the middle of the oven and preheat oven to 450°F.

Peel and core apples, then slice ¼-inch thick. Toss apples with sugar, cinnamon, flour, lemon juice, and salt until evenly coated.

Roll out 1 piece of dough (keep remaining disk chilled) on a lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin into a 13" round. Fit into a 9" pie plate. Roll out remaining piece of dough into an 11" round.

Transfer filling to shell. Dot with butter, then cover with the 11" pastry round. Trim edges, leaving a ½-inch overhang. Press edges together to seal, then fold under. Lightly brush top crust with milk, then cut 5 (1-inch-long) vents.

Bake on hot baking sheet 20 minutes. Reduce oven to 375°F and bake until crust is golden-brown and filling is bubbling, about 40 minutes more. Cool to warm or room temperature, 2-3 hours.

Note: Dough can be chilled up to 2 days or frozen up to 3 months.

Writing and Poetry and Food – Perfect Together What’s cooking? Butter-Baked Rice

Kitchen Goddess note: Poetry has all the antioxidants your soul could need. If you really hate all things poetic, you can skip right to the great rice recipe at the end of this post. There’s just a taste of poetry here, but who knows, you may be inspired to try more.

Writers toss and turn and groan and grind and pace the floor and periodically feel like sticking needles in their eyes just to end the pain of trying to express themselves, and for the most part, it’s a ridiculous, frustrating process, with more dead ends than Lindsey Lohan. But when it works – ah, when the zone opens up and lets you in, it’s pure magic.

The zone has clearly opened up frequently for Philip Levine, who this week was named the next Poet Laureate for the U.S. In the years when my writing group were all NJ residents, we were regular attendees at the Dodge Poetry Festival, and I remember hearing Levine in person more than once. Like Billy Collins, who held the laureate post from 2001 to 2003, Levine is a funny man to listen to, self-effacing and slyly ironic – no chest-beating or railing loud against the fates.

Although he’s best known for his stunning ability to capture both the camaraderie and the pathos of the daily grind in factory life, he manages to work in an homage to food in these lines from the title poem in his 1996 book, The Simple Truth:

“I bought a dollar and a half’s worth of small red potatoes,
took them home, boiled them in their jackets
and ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt....

...Can you taste
what I’m saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch
of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious,
it stays in the back of your throat like a truth
you never uttered because the time was always wrong,
it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken,
made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt,
in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.”

Oh, yes, Mr. Levine, I can taste “the wealth of melting butter.” An image straight from the zone that speaks simply and clearly about a single food. It reminds me of the perfectly satisfying rice dish my friend Claudia made at last week’s pot luck supper. I like it especially because the last stage of cooking it takes place in the oven, so it’s a great dish when you’re entertaining.

And now you must excuse me while I go off to stick needles in my eyes.

Claudia’s Butter-Baked Rice

1 cup long-grain rice
2 cups water
2 teaspoons salt
¼-⅓ cup butter
garlic salt to taste
14-ounce can chicken broth (or 2 chicken bouillon cubes dissolved in 1¾ cups hot water)
chopped parsley for garnish

Bring 2 cups of water to a boil. Add 2 teaspoons salt and pour over 1 cup long grain rice. Let stand 30 minutes. Drain and rinse well with cold water. Drain well.

Melt the butter in a skillet. Add rice and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until butter is almost absorbed – about 5 minutes. Turn into a 1-qt. casserole. Sprinkle with a dash of garlic salt.  Add the can of chicken broth (or 2 chicken bouillon cubes dissolved in 1¾ cups of hot water. Bake covered at 325° for 45 minutes. Top with snipped parsley and fluff with a fork.

Neighborhood Pot Luck What’s cooking? Magnolia Bakery’s Blueberry Jamboree

I’m always amazed at the results of a pot luck supper. No one is coordinating the menu, no one insisting that all the dishes be low cal or have lemon in them or come from Pakistani cuisine – and yet, somehow we avoid the scenario with four kinds of starch or three fruit salads and no protein, or maybe all white foods.

The one that most boggles me is my book group. Every month, anywhere from 12 to 16 women show up, each with a dish of some sort and no prior planning. Somehow, it always produces a well-balanced selection of foods, from appetizers to desserts. I’m reminded of that ancient joke about the thermos, that it keeps cold things cold and hot things hot – so how does it know?

Small Town Sunday Special What’s cooking? Zeppole

As far as I can remember, I had only one friend who was actually born and raised in Summit, the small New Jersey town where my husband and I raised our children. Like many New Jersey towns, the population is relatively fluid, with families moving in and out according to the whims of corporate America or the ups and downs of Wall Street.

But it turns out that, in spite of the shape-shifting nature of the populace, these small towns have a remarkable knack for building community. The Memorial Day service on the town green, with high school musicians playing Sousa marches and military tributes; the bicycle parade on July 4th; the Halloween parade, with children of all ages marching along in their costumes down Springfield Avenue; the free outdoor concerts in summer. Even the pristine town dump, where you can recycle almost anything and where everyone who’s anyone can be seen on a Saturday morning, plays a role in bringing the citizenry together to enjoy life on a personal scale.

So it was not a surprise when I showed up for the farmers’ market last Sunday to find that the town had also closed off the streets near the train station for an arts and crafts fair.

The first tent I noticed had an adorable collection of knit hats in a lively range of colors to make any child happy.

Further down the street, I almost squealed with excitement at the chairs and benches produced by a remarkable young artist named Lindsey Shevkun, who refinishes second-hand furniture with paint, photos and tile, then shelacks them to a high-gloss finish. The look reminds me of artists in Mexico – in fact, many of the pieces pay overt homage to Frida Kahlo.

 And here’s the charming artist herself.

There was more to see than I have room to show, and eventually I found myself at the center of attention, which was the zeppole tent. These Italian doughnuts, deep-fried and covered with powdered sugar, are so popular they disappear faster than shooting stars. My feet were begging me to stop, so I grabbed this photo before buying a small sack of the lovelies, and heading for...guess where?

For those of you who'd like to try your hand at zeppoles, here's a recipe I found that seems pretty simple. If you try it, let me know how it goes. The web has a million variations on the ingredients – with or without cinnamon, with or without yeast, with or without ricotta. From what I tasted, this looks like the real deal.

Zeppole (yield 35)

vegetable oil for frying

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 pinch salt

1½ teaspoons sugar

2 eggs, beaten

1 cup ricotta cheese

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup confectioners' sugar for dusting

In a medium saucepan, combine the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Stir in the eggs, ricotta cheese and vanilla. Mix gently over low heat until combined. The batter will be sticky.

Meanwhile, pour enough oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat to 375º F.

Drop by tablespoons into the hot oil a few at a time. Zeppole will turn over by themselves. Fry until golden brown, about 3-4 minutes. Drain in a paper sack and dust with confectioners' sugar. Serve warm.

Kitchen Goddess note: To reuse the oil, let it cool, then strain it into a clean empty glass jar through a sieve lined with cheesecloth. Store in the refrigerator and reuse it (for similar recipes) up to 4 times.

Serendipity – or Maybe Cooking Karma? What’s cooking? Watercress Soup

Chance or fate? I’ve long believed in karma of various sorts. Shopping karma (finding that just-so item in a tiny, hidden corner of Manhattan) and parking karma (snagging the spot right in front of the restaurant) come to mind most readily. But I’m starting to consider the concept of cooking karma. Can that be what you call it when you come across a recipe that sounds interesting and it turns out you already have ALL of the ingredients, including the leeks?

This line of thought started when my friend Gusty, a children’s book writer, sent me to a site that promised a free cookbook to the first 100 bloggers to try out a recipe from Richard Grausman’s new book, French Classics Made Easy. Never one to turn down such an opportunity, I went to the site and – voilá! – the proposed menu contained a cold soup recipe, another of my weaknesses. In truth, the recipe says you can serve it cold or hot; but with the outside temperatures this week breaking the 100° mark, no one in her right mind would make hot soup.

Today’s Rant... And a Divine Solution What’s cooking? Divinity Fudge

Not long ago, I received a notice from HP – the people who made my laptop. What they called a Routine Customer Advisory. I’m never really sure if these things come to me because something in my computer is about to blow up or has already blown up or arrived blown up but I haven’t come across the particular circumstances that would ignite the fire. So I read the notice.

It had something to do with experiencing The Blue Screen of Death (my term, not theirs); and as it happens, I did have a recent experience with the BSD. Not a fatal one, but you know how these moments cause a shortness of breath and a sinking feeling as if your heart has just paid a visit to your colon. The description said these BSDs may happen after applying some Microsoft security bulletin. Now I apply every Microsoft security bulletin that comes to me – I figure they know what they’re talking about and if it has to do with security, I’m there. So while I can’t remember which Microsoft bulletin that might have been, I think I should apply this HP fix.

I download the file, and when I go to run it, I get one of those balloons that says “This computer does not meet the minimum requirements for installing the software.” Arrrggghh. How can that be? They know which laptop I have. The notice said it was for my model. I have more memory than Iowa has corn. What could they be talking about?

Looking for help, I scroll further down the page and find a “Content Feedback” section, where apparently I can ask a question, vent a tiny bit of my frustration, and – who knows? – maybe get help. I type in my feedback, hit Enter, and get an immediate response (including the exclamation marks):

“We’re very sorry!
The page you requested cannot be found.
We apologize for the inconvenience!”

And you know what? I agree – they are very sorry, with several more exclamation marks, mine more necessary than theirs.

So now I am energized, and without a technical solution, I fall back on a more comforting one: cooking. I head to the kitchen, where I whip up a batch of my Aunt Marcy’s Divinity Fudge. Nothing else works like sugar to make me feel better.


Kitchen Goddess note: It’s important to be sure you have a dry day for making divinity, as all you’ll get on a humid day is a big, white, gooey mess.

Aunt Marcy’s Divinity Fudge

2 egg whites
2 cups sugar
½ cup white corn syrup
½ cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ cup chopped nuts

In a metal mixing bowl, with your mixer on high, beat the whites until stiff peaks form. Set aside.

In a saucepan over low heat, combine the sugar, corn syrup, and water. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then cook without stirring to 260°. [Kitchen Goddess note #2: If you don’t have a candy thermometer, this is the point at which a little dropped into cold water forms a hard ball. I am usually racked with anxiety at trying to decide if the ball is hard enough, so I highly recommend investing in a candy thermometer, if you don’t have one.]

Remove the sugar mixture from the heat and pour, again with the mixer on high, in a fine stream into the beaten egg whites.

Continue beating until the mixture holds its shape and loses its gloss, which will take anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes. Stir in the vanilla and the nuts; then, working quickly (the stuff will stiffen faster than..., well, let’s just say really fast), drop small mounds of the candy onto waxed paper in peaks, or spread in a greased, shallow pan and cut into 1-inch squares when firm. For the mounds, it’s helpful to use two spoons – one spoon pushes the candy off the other.

Makes about 1¼ pounds.

Kitchen Goddess note #3: A few helpful tips regarding eggs. First, eggs separate better when they’re cold. But the whites whip up faster and fuller when they’re at room temperature. So separate your eggs, then let them sit for half an hour before whipping. Finally, fresh eggs don’t whip up as well as eggs that are at least a few days old. Which just goes to say that with eggs as with people, a little age is a good thing.

Who Needs Fireworks? What’s cooking? Blueberry Syrup

Independence Day always comes as something of a shock to my system. It’s not really the Fourth of July, is it? How can it be that half the summer is already over? Of course, it’s not really half over – it just feels that way.

And here in the New York area, the warm weather has the tall buildings emptying out like someone pulled a plug. People are out after work, eating at sidewalk cafes, sitting on neighborhood stoops, and walking their dogs, children, or spouses. Like them, I want to grab each day and hold it tight, to suck every morsel of flavor out of the season before the leaves turn. it seems like it'll last forever. Then, suddenly, June has slipped past, and now July is racing on.

We thought when we got our place in Jersey City that we’d be able to see the fireworks, but noooo. Almost the minute we arrived, the pyrotechnic powers that be decided to move the whole shebang upriver – too far for viewing from our building. Bummer. But even as I moped around the apartment feeling sorry for what we were missing, I stopped at the window, looked south, and counted 10 separate celebrations off in the distance in NJ and Staten Island that were at least visible from here, and another three in Bklyn. Tiny bursts of color and fire, signalling everyone’s desire to celebrate summer or independence or our country or all three. It’s a very joyful sight.

Moreover, Manhattan has its own light show every night – available only to the folks in NJ. So now I’m pretty sure we’re really very lucky.

 * * *

It must be the height of the blueberry season in NJ, because the farmers’ markets are loaded with them. Which means it’s time for me to make blueberry syrup. I discovered this super-easy recipe last year in Food & Wine magazine, and couldn’t stop making it. I gave it to most of my friends, I froze it, I put it on everything from ice cream to cottage cheese to chicken (as a glaze before baking). What I like most about it – aside from the truly pure blueberry flavor – is that it’s not as sweet as most syrups. And while it’s a bit late for recommending a red, white, and blue dessert, summer isn’t really even half over; this would be the perfect add-on to strawberry shortcake or angelfood cake with strawberries or raspberries. Happy summer, everyone!

Blueberry Syrup

Adapted from Food & Wine magazine

1½ pounds blueberries (5 cups)
4 cups water
2 cups sugar
Six strips of lemon zest (use a vegetable peeler to get strips about ½ inch wide and 1-2 inches long)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

In a pot, combine the blueberries with 1 cup of the water. Using an implement like a potato masher (a large round wisk might also work), crush the berries and bring to a simmer. Simmer over low heat for 15 minutes. Strain the juice into a heatproof measuring cup, pressing hard on the solids. Discard the solids.

Rinse out the pot. Add the sugar, lemon zest and the remaining 3 cups of water and bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil the syrup over moderate heat until it registers 225° on a candy thermometer (about 20 minutes). Add the blueberry juice and lemon juice and boil over high heat for 1 minute. Let the syrup cool, then discard the lemon zest. Pour the syrup into just-cleaned bottles. Seal and refrigerate for up to 6 months.

The Writers Who Lunch What’s cooking? Chicken Salad with Grapes and Pecans

What do you serve a group of really special guests for lunch? The four women who came to my house today have been nothing less than extraordinary influences on my writing life. Or maybe I should just say on my life, period.

For almost a decade, we met weekly to talk about writing, to read what we’d written over the previous week, but also commenting, interpreting, suggesting, and praising each other’s work. We had different goals, different needs fulfilled by the writing, and different genres in which we worked. One is a poet, one a short story writer, one a middle-grade novelist and essayist, one a much-published author of romances and young adult novels. And me, the essayist.

Longevity isn’t the only feature that distinguished us from many writing groups. The frequency of our meetings was also unusual, as most writing groups in my experience meet monthly. Being a small group, and meeting that often, we developed an amazing closeness that transcended the writing life and into the rest of our lives. The highs and lows of married life, parenting, professional progress, and mental health in general were often on the table along with our manuscripts.

But after all those years, life intervened, and one by one, we scattered to the winds – or, rather, to Texas, Florida, Massachusetts, and New York City. One lone member is staying put in New Jersey, maintaining our roots, but even she stages periodic escapes to Colorado.

I’ve tried other groups. Even while this New Jersey group was still going strong, I attempted to put together other groups from various writing workshops I attended. But none was so strong or so supportive. In fact, just knowing they’d be here today stirred something in the back of my brain – the need to create, to share that creativity, to hear how it affected others.

So today’s lunch had to be special. I started with a cold minted pea soup, a bright green purée so smooth it fairly slips down the throat on its own. The main course was a chicken salad, tweaked a bit to accommodate some members’ dietary needs. But as often happens, the alterations produced a serendipity of flavors that I thought I should share with you.

I accompanied the chicken salad with a batch of Cochineal Drop Biscuits (from my April 28, 2011 posting), and a bright summer fruit salad of watermelon, peaches, and red and yellow New Jersey tomatoes, dressed with a splash of balsamic vinegar and a chiffonade (finely ribboned) of fresh basil. Dessert was sorbet from a local gelateria and amaretto cookies. Yum!

Chicken Salad with Grapes and Pecans

Serves 4-6.

4 cups cooked chicken breasts (about 1½ pound), cut or torn into bite-size pieces
1 cup walnuts, toasted (400° for 5 mins)
1 cup jicama, cut into ½-inch cubes and sprinkled with juice of ¼ lemon (if jicama is not available, use celery)
2 cups seedless red grapes, halved
2 tablespoons chopped fresh tarragon (fresh is really more flavorful than dried, but if you have only dried -- which sometimes happens -- 2 teaspoons of dried will do nicely)
⅜ cup (6 tablespoons) light mayonnaise
⅜ cup (6 tablespoons) no-fat plain Greek yogurt
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Kitchen Goddess note: I like to cook the chicken breasts all together in the oven – so easy. In a Pyrex dish large enough to hold the breasts in a single layer, sprinkle the chicken with garlic salt and pepper, and top each breast with a sprig of either thyme or parsley and a thin slice of lemon. Cover with foil and bake at 350º for 20-30 minutes (depending on thickness). Uncover the breasts and let cool before you shred them for the salad. Toss the shredded chicken with about ¼ cup of the broth that collects, and save the rest for another use.

Light mayo and non-fat yogurt make this salad a dieter’s dream.

In a large bowl, combine the shredded chicken, walnuts, jicama, grapes, and tarragon. Stir together the mayo, yogurt, wine vinegar, and salt/pepper, and pour it over the salad mixture. Toss until combined well.

Do ahead? If you want to make this the day before, combine the non-dressing ingredients (chicken through tarragon) and cover tightly then refrigerate. Separately, combine the dressing ingredients (mayo through salt/pepper) in a jar. About a half hour before serving, toss the dressing with the chicken mixture and refrigerate.

Big-Hearted Father’s Day BBQ Sauce What’s cooking? Harry’s Best BBQ Sauce

I’m back! And just in time for Father's Day. So in honor of my own dear Dad, I’ve come with a recipe for the best barbecue sauce ever. This is what a loyal daughter does: she declares her father’s barbecue sauce recipe the best ever. Even if he’s no longer around to bask in the glory. But with my own personal bias disclosed, I will still promise that this sauce is pretty damn great.

By most accounts, daughters have their fathers wrapped around their little fingers from Day 1. I am probably no exception. My dad was a great guy who would have done back flips for me if he could have.