Archive for the ‘Condiments’ Category

Chic Once More Tarragon Vinegar

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

 
Twenty years ago tarragon was THE chic flavor for gourmet vinegar.
 
And yet a couple of months ago when I was getting ready to make Green Goddess Dressing I could find neither fresh tarragon nor tarragon vinegar in stores!
 
(I’m sure they can still be found in some grocery stores, but they were not available near my brother’s house in Virginia.)
 
Tarragon is a lovely herb, with a special almost licorice-like flavor. I have no idea why or how it fell from grace. I firmly believe that it deserves to come back into fashion, however. And I’m doing my part to promote its renaissance.
 
First, I have planted tarragon outside my kitchen in Massachusetts as well as in my sister-in-law’s garden in Virginia.
 
Thinking ahead to the winter when my tarragon will be dormant, I have just made tarragon vinegar. My own tarragon plant is still dwarflike, but I was fortunately enough to find a huge bunch of lush tarragon at my CSA, Wilder Brook Farm.
 
If I want to make Green Goddess dressing in January I can substitute my vinegar for some of the lemon juice in that recipe. I can also make an herbal vinaigrette with the vinegar. Or a sweet-and-sour vinaigrette by mixing it with some of my strawberry vinegar.
 
Like Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll never go hungry again—at least not where tarragon is concerned.
 
Did I mention that the recipe couldn’t be simpler?
 
Tarragon Vinegar
 
Ingredients:
 
1 quart apple cider vinegar (I use the lovely vinegar made by Apex Orchards)
1/2 cup tarragon leaves
 
Instructions:
 
Heat the vinegar in a non-aluminum pan until it is just about to boil but not boiling. While it is heating, wash and dry the tarragon leaves, being careful not to crush them. Gently push the leaves into a warm, clean glass jar with a capacity greater than a quart. (I use an old liquor bottle—washed, of course.)
 
When the vinegar is warm pour it into the jar and close the jar loosely. Tighten the jar lid after the vinegar cools. Place the jar in a cool, dry place for 3 days, gently shaking it twice a day. Do NOT try to shake the bottle just after you pour in the hot vinegar as it may leak or explode.
 
Strain the vinegar through cheesecloth and funnel it into smaller bottles. If you like, you may place a sprig of tarragon in your bottles to help you remember what type of vinegar they contain. (Labels help, too.) 

Makes about 1 quart of vinegar.


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My Trip to Bountiful

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Alice's Cabin as seen from the Dam

 
I have always been moved by Horton Foote’s play/teleplay/screenplay The Trip to Bountiful. Its elderly heroine, Carrie Watts, longs to return to her rural childhood home. To her it represents youth, peace, joy, and love.
 
We all have our individual Bountifuls. Their sights, sounds, and textures speak to us of home, of happy childhood, of a close kinship with nature.
 
I’m lucky enough to be able to make visits from time to time to my own Bountiful. It’s located less than a mile from my home in Hawley, Massachusetts, in the summer community of Singing Brook Farm. 

My family rented Alice’s Cabin every summer from the time I was four until I was 21. The cabin is set in the woods, way down a curvy dirt road.

 

Alice’s Cabin perches right above Singing Brook Farm’s dammed up mountain stream and tennis courts—an ideal location for children. We could always see who was available for play.

 
Nowadays my brother David, my sister-in-law Leigh, and my nephew Michael rent the cabin each summer with a little contribution from me. They don’t stay for the entire summer so I always get to enjoy some time there.
 
I used to stay at the cabin in order to be alone. My mother can no longer be left by herself. So this summer she and I have spent a couple of nights together at Alice’s Cabin.
 
There are a few things I DON’T like about Alice’s Cabin. Since people don’t live in it for most of the year (with no insulation, a small wood stove for heat, and an above-ground water supply, the place can’t be used except in the summer) it tends to attract other residents—bugs, mice, and often a bat. It’s also a little nippy, even in the summer. 

Everything else I love. So does my mother. So do the dog and cat. The latter has unfortunately retired from mousing at the advanced age of 19; her celestial blue eyes are beautiful but blind.

Lorelei Lee adores this sofa, perhaps because the cover matches her eyes.

 
When my family first moved to a year-round house on the main road, in fact, I had trouble sleeping. I missed the brook’s lullaby.
 
Since we are regular tenants Singing Brook Farm lets us strew our stuff about. The cover art for my cookbook hangs on a wall in the kitchen, and the cow painting given to me in graduate school by an artist, Ernie from Mars, looms majestically above the mantle. 

(Ernie and the cow deserve their own post one of these days. For the moment, let me just say that the cow is hard to miss.)
  

My own room (used by nephew Michael when he is in residence) is decorated with posters. Two of my favorites are a World War I-era announcement and a blown-up advertisement for one of my singing engagements.

 

Naturally, when we are at Alice’s Cabin my mother and I spend time down at the Dam. The water is cool—actually, COLD—but refreshing. Jan can’t go swimming unless she has more than one person to help her so sometimes we have to compromise.  

I am able to move her chair into the water so that she can cool her feet off. And she often enjoys just sitting near the Dam with Truffle. The air there is always cooler than it is way up on the main road. 

 
I don’t know how often we’ll be able to stay at Alice’s Cabin this summer since moving around tends to disorient my mother.
 
Even if I don’t go back at all, I’ll feel that my portion of the rent has been well spent. Sunday night after my mother went to bed, I sat happily reading in the living room with the animals by my side. As always, the sounds of the singing brook soothed me.
 
Like Carrie Watts, I felt a sense of peace and renewal. I was home.
 
As a bonus, I experienced a spectacular sunset—something I don’t get to see at my regular house since the Casa Weisblat faces east. (Sunrises are completely wasted on me.) 

What—and where—is YOUR Bountiful, readers?

 
Mint Syrup
 
I’ll bet you almost thought I was going to forget to include a recipe in this post!
 
This syrup smells just like the doorway to Alice’s Cabin. Mint grows wild outside the door, and it’s almost impossible not to step on it and release its aroma. (I don’t actually try very hard to avoid it.)
 
The recipe appears in my Pudding Hollow Cookbook. I like it in tea or lemonade. It also makes a lovely punch combined with iced tea, fruit juice, and ginger ale.
 
If you store your syrup for more than a couple of months, you may have to thin it out by heating it with additional water. Make sure it is either well sealed or refrigerated, or it will mold after a couple of weeks.
 
Ingredients:
 
8 sprigs fresh spearmint
8 sprigs fresh peppermint
(If you don’t have both, use twice as much of either.)
2-1/2 cups sugar
1 cup water
1 or 2 drops of green food coloring (optional)
 
Instructions:
 
Wash and carefully blot the mints dry. Place them in a saucepan, and pound or crush them slightly to release their flavors. Add the sugar and water, and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves.
 
Turn down the heat, and simmer for 15 minutes. Stir in the food coloring, if desired, and remove from heat. 

Let the syrup cool for a few minutes; then strain it through cheesecloth into a sterilized jar or bottle. Makes about 2 cups.   

The newest feature of Alice's Cabin. One can sit on the swing and watch tennis, listen to the rain, or just take a nap.

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Rhubarb Catch Up

Monday, June 7th, 2010

 
Here’s an early recipe for July 4. (Enjoy it: this will probably be the only time you’ll get a recipe early from In Our Grandmothers’ Kitchens!)
 
I’m not exactly a champion griller. In fact, as listeners to WFCR, our local public-radio station, learned a couple of years ago, I’ve been known to light an outdoor fire that almost turned into … well … an outdoor fire.
 
Condiments for grilled foods I can manage, however. And lately I’ve had a hankering to make some rhubarb ketchup (or catsup or however you want to spell it).
 
I’ve tried a couple of different formulas, and this is the best so far. It doesn’t taste like tomato ketchup. Why should it? It’s a lightly sweet, lightly spiced sauce that would be lovely with pork.
 
My spices came courtesy of Kalustyan, a wonderful spice company that has a retail outlet in New York City (yes, it will ship spices to you!). I particularly love Kalustyan’s aromatic cinnamon. And its mixture of pickling spices was just right for this recipe.
 
I can’t tell you yet how long this ketchup will last in the refrigerator since I made it less than a week ago. I don’t think I’d push it more than two weeks or so. So if you would like to try it as a condiment for Independence Day you should wait a little while to make it.
 
On the other hand, like me, you might want to make some now and some later. It really was tasty last night! I pan grilled chicken cutlets and served them with fresh peas with mint and maple-rhubarb coleslaw.
 
While you’re making your ketchup, do listen to my WFCR grilling broadcast. I’m not in great voice when I sing (and the less said the better about my piano playing), but my mother’s childhood memories are fun.
 
And Truffle’s cheerful bark more than makes up for my shortcomings! She really knows how to celebrate Independence Day.
 
 
Rhubarb Ketchup
 
Ingredients:
 
3 cups rhubarb (in small pieces!)
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/4 cup apple cider plus 1/2 cup later
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1/4 teaspoon (generous) ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 pinch ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon pickling spices
1/2 teaspoon salt
a few turns of your pepper grinder
 
Instructions:
 
In a 2-quart nonreactive saucepan, toss together the rhubarb and brown sugar.
 
In a tiny nonreactive saucepan, heat the 1/4 cup cider and the vinegar. When they come to a boil remove them from the heat and stir in the ginger, cinnamon, allspice, and pickling spices.
 
Let the two pans sit at room temperature for 2 hours. The rhubarb should juice up a little, and the spices should steep nicely in the liquid.
 
After the resting period add the spices and their liquid to the rhubarb. Toss the remaining cider into the pot that held the spices to pick up any remaining spices, and add it to the rhubarb as well. Stir in the salt and pepper.
 
Bring the rhubarb mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat and boil the resulting sauce, stirring frequently, for 20 minutes. Turn off and let cool.
 
In a blender or food processor puree the cooled ketchup. Ladle it into a sterilized jar or two and refrigerate it until you are ready to use it.
 

Makes about 2-1/2 cups ketchup.


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Blues in the Night

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

bitn

 
Johnny Mercer was born 100 years ago tomorrow, on November 18, 1909. A statue of the lyricist will be unveiled in his hometown, Savannah Georgia, on his birthday.
 
Tributes have been going on all year and will continue, including my own show “Blues in the Night,” scheduled for Friday evening, November 20. (I may just have mentioned it before!)
 
Alice Parker and I named our program “Blues in the Night” after one of Mercer’s best known musical creations.
 
“Blues” made its debut in a 1941 Warner Bros. film that was named after the song as soon as the producers heard it and realized what a musical hit they had on their hands.
 
The film itself, which recently aired on Turner Classic Movies, is peculiar to say the least.
 
It recounts the adventures of a small group of jazz musicians, including the dour Richard Whorf, the future film director Elia Kazan, and the always over-the-top Jack Carson.
 
These tunesters roam around the country trying to make a living being true to themselves as artists by playing music that is authentically American and bluesy.
 
They are inspired while sitting in a jail cell after a fight with a bar patron who wanted them to play less exalted music.  As they ponder their future an African-American in a nearby cell (it’s a segregated jail) starts intoning,
 
My mama done tol’ me, when I was in knee highs,
My mama done tol’ me, “Son,
“A woman’ll sweet talk and give you the big eye,
“But when the sweet talkin’s done, a woman’s a two-face,
“A worrisome thing who’ll leave you to sing
“The Blues in the Night……”
 
The musicians immediately vow to run out and create the sort of authentic American folk jazz they have just heard.
 
Of course, one might think they would start by hiring the talented singer to whom they have just listened.  Instead, they team up with Priscilla Lane. She’s pretty, but she’s a musical lightweight. 
 
The film continues to defy expectations by throwing in assorted genres (it’s a musical, it’s a romance, it’s a gangster movie) and leaving plot lines dangling.
 
What looks like an incipient love interested between Lane and Whorf disappears. The rather pale musician who coughs a lot early in the film, who would end up dying of consumption in a normal Hollywood movie, loses his cough with no explanation.
 
The Bad Girl (Betty Field) who vamps half the male cast has about as much sex appeal as a flounder so the plot twists about her strong hold on men’s hearts and minds are rendered completely unbelievable. And so forth.
 
What shines in the movie–and haunts the soundtrack–is “Blues in the Night.” Happily, no one expected Priscilla Lane to sing this rather challenging song. It is repeated mostly instrumentally through the film, and it makes the story more moving than it would otherwise be.
 
Watching the film it was hard for me to believe that before it came out “Blues in the Night” didn’t exist. When they wrote it, Mercer and composer Harold Arlen created that rare thing, a song that sounds as though it has been around forever–as though it has sprung organically from ordinary people’s real lives.
 
More than the box cars and jail sets in which the actors pose, “Blues” evokes the material conditions of working Americans just coming out of the Great Depression.
 
And more than any emotions expressed by this not very exciting cast (the best actors are in minor roles) the song expresses love and loss, humor and pathos–the very soul of the blues.
 
It’s not really in my ideal repertoire. Like Priscilla Lane I’m a lightweight singer. But I can’t resist its siren call.
 
Please sing it tomorrow in honor of Johnny Mercer’s birthday. If you feel a little lightweight, here’s a recipe to give you some substance.
 
It was invented by Debra Kozikowski of Chicopee, Massachusetts. Deb is a political activist and blogger who has recently launched her own food blog, The Other Woman Cooks. She won a contest sponsored by the U.S. Highbush Blueberry Council with this blueberry barbecue sauce. 
 
Here’s the link to Deb’s original post. As you can see, she is an avid fan of picking your own berries in season, although she did tell me I could use frozen berries for this recipe!
 
Debby marinated pork or chicken in the sauce and then grilled the meat, basting with the sauce. My grilling season is over so I browned medallions of pork tenderloin and baked them in the barbecue sauce (and just a little water) at 375 degrees for 45 minutes, uncovering them for the last few minutes.
 
I think you could probably use the sauce interchangeably with regular barbecue sauce. Like “Blues in the Night” it combines sweetness and heat in surprising fashion.
 
sauceweb
 
Deb’s “Blues in the Night” Barbecue Sauce
 
Ingredients:

2 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup ketchup
1 tablespoon molasses
1 teaspoon chili powder (I made this heaping)
1 teaspoon black pepper (I ground about 15 times)
1/2 teaspoon salt (Deb didn’t include this, but I thought it enhanced the flavors)
1/2 cup water
 

Instructions:

Bring all the ingredients to a low boil in a saucepan. Reduce heat and simmer until slightly thickened and chunky. Deb said this took 10 to 15 minutes; for me it took about 20 because when my frozen blueberries defrosted they were pretty wet.

Makes about 2 cups of sauce.

bluesporkweb

 

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Aunt Fox’s Hawley Haroseth

Sunday, April 5th, 2009

hawley-harosethweb

 

We’re so used to artificial light that we forget how many traditional holidays are based on the cycles of the sun. Easter and Passover (and just about every spring holiday there is) are examples. Both holidays are tied to the vernal equinox. On that welcome day we finally achieve parity between dark and light and start lurching toward the golden days and gentle evenings of summer.

 

Like the vernal equinox itself, Passover and Easter mix dark and light. That mixture is key to the two festivals. The Jews’ flight from Egypt more than 3000 years ago is meaningless unless one understands the harsh slavery under which the Jewish people served the Pharaohs. The joy of Easter is possible because of the sorrow of Good Friday.

 

As a food writer and food lover I appreciate the centrality of food to both of these holidays, particularly Passover. Passover illustrates the connection we all feel but too seldom articulate between food and memory. Food is used at Passover to symbolize the history the holiday commemorates and to bring people together to remember this shared history.

 

The centerpiece of the holiday is the meal known as the Seder, in which families gather to retell the story of the departure from Egypt. Much of the Seder’s menu is prescribed by tradition, and during the meal the symbolism of each item on the table is explained.

 

A bitter herb (usually horseradish) symbolizes the hardship of the slaves’ life, for example. My personal favorite symbol, Haroseth (also spelled “charoset” and a variety of other ways), is a paste of fruits and nuts. It represents the mortar the Jews used to construct buildings—most famously the pyramids.

 

Many years ago my honorary Aunt Carolyn Fox brought this haroseth to a Seder at our home in Hawley, Massachusetts. Growing up I ate haroseth moistened with wine. As a lover of sweets I was thrilled with her use of grape juice instead. The last time I made it I used crangrape juice, adding a little New England tang to this Passover staple. Next time I’m thinking of using straight cranberry juice…….

 

 

The Haroseth

 

Ingredients:

 

2 tart apples, peeled and cored

1/2 cup pecans

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon honey

1 tablespoon grape (or crangrape or maybe cranberry) juice

 

Instructions:

 

Finely chop the apples and pecans separately; then chop them together to make even smaller pieces. Stir in the cinnamon, honey, and juice.

 

Spoon a bit of haroseth on a piece of matzo for each guest.

Makes 12 small servings.