Posts Tagged ‘Weisblat’

Hush Puppy Pudding

Wednesday, October 22nd, 2008
Pirate Captain (and 2008 Pudding Head) Ray Poudrier, left, and First Mate (and Judge) Michael Collins admire Ray's award-winning Hawley Grove Pudding.

Pirate Captain (and 2008 Pudding Head) Ray Poudrier, left, and First Mate (and Judge) Michael Collins admire Ray's award-winning Hawley Grove Pudding. Photo courtesy of Phyllis Gotta.

          The Sons & Daughters of Hawley (the historical society in my small town in Massachusetts) have just pulled off another successful Pudding Hollow Pudding Contest. The pudding contest is my baby so I have to admit I’m a bit prejudiced, but I’ll pretend I’m objective and say that it was a huge success and a lot of fun. This year’s entertainment, “The Pirates of Pudding Hollow” (which posited that our inland town was visited by pirates in the late 18th century), had both the actors and the audience roaring with laughter.

          I’ll post more details and more pictures soon but for now I want to share one of the recipes that made it to the finals, Hush Puppy Pudding from Marilyn Pryor of South Hadley, Massachusetts.

One of our testers for the semi-finals was reluctant to make it because the ingredients include commercial cornbread mix. I understand her scruples (who knows what’s in those mixes?), and one of these days I’ll try to duplicate the pudding using scratch, rather than boxed, ingredients. When that happens, I’ll add the amended recipe to this post.
          In the meantime, as the person who DID prepare it for the semi-finals, I can say that this pudding is very tasty and (except for the cornbread-mix ingredients) quite healthy. I served it with ham, pineapple, and a green salad for a terrific fall meal. And it certainly lived up to its name since Truffle blissfully (and quietly!) ate some of the leftovers.
          For more details about the contest, please visit its web page,
http://www.merrylion.com/master/events/events.html.

Puddings Awaiting Judging

Puddings Awaiting Judging

Hush Puppy Pudding

Ingredients:

1 cup cornbread mix

1/2 cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup sliced green onions (I used 1 bunch; it didn’t quite make a cup, but it worked)

2 cups plain yogurt

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) sweet butter, melted

2 10-ounce cans vacuum-packed corn

Instructions:

          Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 2-quart casserole dish.

In a large bowl, mix together the cornbread mix, flour, and salt. In another bowl, combine the onions, yogurt, eggs, and butter. Stir in the corn, and add this mixture to the cornbread combination, stirring just until the dry ingredients are moistened.

Spoon the resulting batter into your prepared pan, and bake until golden brown and set in the center (about 45 minutes). Serves 6 to 8 as a side dish.

The Flavor of Fall at the Blue Heron

Wednesday, October 15th, 2008

 

         The kitchen at the Blue Heron Restaurant in Sunderland, Massachusetts, is a very busy place and a very happy one. Music plays as several cooks work in different sections of the room, creating tantalizing smells as they toast spices, glaze cakes, or efficiently peel and combine potatoes and parsnips. I spent a couple of hours there recently with Chef Deborah Snow—and I couldn’t help smiling almost continuously.

         Deborah spent our time showing me how to make a dish that reflected her signature focus on local food. She took advantage of the fall harvest to make butternut-squash ravioli, a deceptively simple Tuscan dish that is a favorite with Blue Heron customers. “I’ve gotten a lot of marriage proposals with this,” she said of the ravioli. She served it with a devastatingly rich brown-butter sauce.

          By using premade dumpling wrappers for the ravioli Deborah rendered them simple for home cooks. I helped her assemble the ravioli (when put together they look a bit like fried eggs) and was impressed at how easy they were to create.

The biggest trick in the recipe is the butter sauce, which can be a little temperamental; the butter should look brown and taste toasted but not burned. The other trick for the home cook will be timing. Deborah made the brown-butter sauce and the ravioli more or less simultaneously because she knows instinctively when to check on each pot.

Less experienced cooks should probably shape the ravioli and then begin browning the butter in order to keep a careful eye on the sauce. The ravioli can easily be boiled after the sauce is complete; these little pieces of pasta don’t take very long to cook.

I followed this method at home. My dish was almost as delicious as Deborah’s—if a bit less beautiful.

To learn more about the Blue Heron, visit its web site, http://www.blueherondining.com.  Meanwhile, here is the recipe for the ravioli, kindness of Deborah Snow.

 

Blue Heron Butternut Squash Ravioli

Ingredients:

for the ravioli:

1 medium butternut squash

extra-virgin olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper to taste for roasting

1 cup shredded or grated Parmegiano-Reggiano cheese

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 whole nutmeg, freshly grated

kosher salt to taste (start with 1 teaspoon)

freshly ground pepper to taste (start with 1/2 teaspoon)

72 round 3-inch wheat dumpling wrappers (available from Asian markets)

1 egg

additional cheese and several small sage leaves for garnish

for the sauce:

1 pound unsalted butter

10 fresh sage leaves, plus 5 more leaves later, chopped

1-1/4 cups white wine

1-1/2 cups heavy cream

Instructions:

for the ravioli:

          Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Cut the squash in half lengthwise, remove the seeds and gunk, and rub a little oil, salt, and pepper on the flesh. Roast the squash until it is soft enough to scoop out easily. Begin roasting with the flesh side down in your pan, and turn the squash over after about 20 minutes. Snow explains that the length of time it will take to roast the squash to the desired consistency depends on the strength of your oven. I would start checking the squash to see whether it is tender after about 30 minutes. It can take much longer than this, however, especially with young squash!

          Scoop the squash out of its skin, and use a potato masher to blend in the cheese, olive oil, nutmeg, salt and pepper. (Do NOT use a food processor.)

          Place half of the dumpling wrappers (36) on a work surface. Spoon a generous tablespoon of the squash mixture into the middle of each wrapper. You will probably have leftover squash, which is delicious by itself as a side dish.

          Beat the egg with a splash of water; then use a pastry brush to brush the edges of the dumpling wrappers with the egg mixture. Place another wrapper on top, and use your fingertips to seal the edges of your ravioli, trying to push out any air bubbles that have formed.

          Put a large pot of water (at least 2 quarts) on the stove, and add 2 teaspoons of salt. When the water comes to a boil, place the ravioli gently in the boiling water. Return the water to the boil, and cook for 3 to 4 minutes longer, stirring gently (particularly in the beginning) to keep the ravioli separated. Remove the ravioli gently from the water with a slotted spoon, place them in 6 individual pasta dishes, and ladle brown-butter sauce over all. Top with additional cheese and sage leaves. Serves 6 with 6 ravioli apiece.

for the sauce:
          Place the entire pound of butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat, and bring it to a boil. Cook it slowly, monitoring its progress to keep it from burning. When it begins to turn brown around the edges, it is almost finished cooking. Skim off (and discard) any fuzz on top. The cooking process for the butter takes about 10 minutes on Deborah Snow’s very hot stove; it will probably take longer on a home range.

          The butter will soon develop a rich caramel color. Turn off the heat, and add the first 10 chopped sage leaves. The butter will bubble up in response. Let it rest for a couple of minutes.

          When the butter has cooled a bit, spoon out the milk solids and discard them; you will only need the liquid.

In a medium skillet, heat the wine until it is reduced by half. Whisk in the cream, and again let the liquid reduce by half. Throw in the additional chopped sage leaves while the sauce is reducing. When the sauce is nice and thick, whisk in the brown butter to taste. You may not need all of it, but you will need most of it.

Manna

Thursday, October 2nd, 2008
Cara and Part of Her Flock (Courtesy of Sheila Litchfield)

Cara and Part of Her Flock (Courtesy of Sheila Litchfield)

Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless thy chosen pilgrim flock

With manna in the wilderness, with water from the rock.

Making Manna

          I love being asked to make new foods. So I was happy when the minister of our small church, Cara Hochhalter, asked me to create some manna for the kids’ time in the service recently.

          Cara’s lectionary is smack dab in the middle of the book of Exodus. The Jews are wandering through the desert on their way to the Promised Land. When they complain of hunger, God provides them with food. Each morning they harvest and eat a mysterious, heavenly substance, which tends to melt if left in the sun too long.

          In the words of the King James Bible, “And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna: and it was like coriander seed, white; and the taste of it was like wafers made with honey.” The manna is also described as “a small round thing, as small as the hoar frost on the ground.”

          Personally, I had always conceived of manna as a fairly fluffy food. After all, it was provided by God, who has a well developed sense of whimsy. (I have to admit that He—or She or maybe It–didn’t use that particular trait overly often when dealing with the Israelites, but they were definitely whiners, and whining can dampen even a deity’s spirits.)

          So of course I compromised. My manna, as you can probably surmise from reading the recipe below, is simply crumbled up cornbread, sweetened with honey. The coriander in the formula pays tribute to the seeds the manna is supposed to resemble. The coriander also adds an appropriately Middle Eastern flavor. If you don’t have coriander (it turned out I didn’t, when I got ready to prepare my manna), cumin is a useful and tasty alternative.

This manna isn’t really white. On the other hand, if the ancient Hebrews were anything like me early in the morning, they weren’t paying too much attention to color as they gathered their manna.

           If you don’t crumble it up, my manna has the advantage of going very well with a bowl of chili (Kosher, of course).

When I got to church with my basket of crumbs, the children were a bit skeptical of the manna I sprinkled into their open hands, but in general the recipe was a hit. Brady, the youngest and most vocal member of our small tribe, proclaimed it “scrumptious.”

Larger Lessons

          The Israelites were said to grind the manna into cakes for eating in the desert. Cara used her verbal mill to transform my manna, and the story of the ancient manna, into a useful message for both children and adults.

          She reminded us all that God instructed the Hebrews to harvest only as much manna as they could eat each day, a lesson to us all to be moderate in our consumption of food and in our use of the earth’s bounty in general.

          Even more importantly, she held up the feeding of the starving Hebrew people as an example to humankind to be vigilant in feeding the hungry. This lesson is particularly striking in our current economic climate, when food banks such as the church’s own Good Neighbors program are straining to meet the needs of more and more families.

          In that spirit, I urge readers who want to prepare this recipe to make a second batch to share with friends, neighbors, or even strangers—and to remember to buy a little something extra at least once a week to give to a food pantry.

Manna from Tinky

Ingredients:

1 cup flour

1 cup cornmeal

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon coriander or cumin (dried powder or seeds; you may also use a chopped handful of fresh cilantro)

1 cup milk

1 egg, well beaten

1/4 cup honey

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) sweet butter, melted

Directions:
          Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Generously butter an 8-inch square pan. (I used my 8-inch iron skillet, which makes great cornbread.)

          In a bowl, combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, and spice. Set aside.

          In another bowl (I used a 2-cup measuring cup) vigorously whisk together the milk and egg; then whisk in the honey and the melted butter. The honey will try to settle in the bottom, but its laziness can be vanquished with persistent whisking.

          Whisk the liquid into the dry ingredients, and spread them in the prepared pan.

          Bake until the edges of the bread look light brown and the center is solid (about 30 minutes). If you want authentic-looking manna, crumble the bread into tiny pieces; if not, slice it. Serves 8.

Tasting Manna (Courtesy of Sheila Litchfield)

Tasting Manna (Courtesy of Sheila Litchfield)

 

 

Friendship Honey Cake

Sunday, September 28th, 2008

 
One of the reasons that I love my mixed religious heritage (my mother is Christian, and my father was Jewish) is that I have extra holidays to celebrate.
 
I particularly enjoy the two traditions’ far apart and very different new-year markers.
 
The Christian New Year, just beyond the winter solstice, provides hope that spring will come, always a cheerful thought when it’s chilly outside. It gives us an excuse to light up the house on a dark winter night, to prepare something warm like onion soup or oysters, and to share wishes for the future with friends.
 
The Jewish New Year carries with it more religious importance than its Christian counterpart. It also feels newer. It falls in autumn, when we traditionally embark on new enterprises—school, diets, blogs (well, my blog, at any rate). Stretching out over ten days, it gives people time to get in touch with friends and family, to mull over the good and bad parts of the past year, and to get ready for the future. It is both introspective and social, somber and joyful.
 
Visiting my grandparents on Long Island for the High Holy Days was one of the highlights of my childhood. I loved sitting in the upper level of the Temple with my grandmother on Rosh Hashanah. The women kept track of what was going on downstairs, where the men (including my grandfather) went about the business of the shul.
My Grandfather, William "Wolf" Weisblat

My Grandfather, William (originally "Wolf") Weisblat (Courtesy of Bob Kraut)

 
The women also quietly gossiped and wished each other a happy new year, conducting their own social services to complement the religious ones below.
 
My grandmother was one of the social leaders of her community. I don’t mean that she was elegant or a trendsetter. She represented something far more valuable than either of those characteristics–a person to whom her neighbors turned for advice, for a friendly ear, for her large brain and heart. My family tells me that I look like her, and that I’m bossy like her. (I prefer such terms are assertive and knowledgeable.) I’d like to think that I have a little of her skill with people as well.
Sarah Hiller Weisblat in Her Youth (Courtesy of Bob Kraut)

My Grandmother, Sarah Hiller Weisblat, in Her Youth (Courtesy of Bob Kraut)

 
Whenever the Jewish New Year comes around, I like to remember my grandparents and their family with honey, a culinary highlight of this holiday. In the Jewish tradition, food is always more than just food. It’s a symbol of relationships and shared heritage. When we give our friends and relatives honey cake, we hope the gift brings them a sweet new year figuratively as well as literally.

William and Sarah's Children--Benny, Selma, and (my dad!) Abe (Courtesy of Bob Kraut)
William and Sarah’s Children–Benny, Selma, and (the baby, my dad!) Abe (Courtesy of Bob Kraut)
 
The recipe below comes from Micheale Battles, a busy attorney in the D.C. area who still finds time for cooking, family, and religious traditions. Her extended Passover Seder is legendary in northern Virginia. Michaele’s honey cake is called friendship cake because it makes two cakes—one to keep, and one to share with a friend. Michaele ALWAYS puts in the nuts, but I like the cake without them as well so I made them optional in my version of her recipe. The cake itself is dense and flavorful and tastes even better with a little fruit. The coffee in the recipe cuts the honey and makes the flavor subtle.
 
Michaele’s Rosh Hashanah Friendship Honey Cake
 
Ingredients:
 
1 pound honey (1-1/3 cups, according to my friends at Warm Colors Apiary)
1-1/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup shortening of your choice (I used butter since I don’t keep Kosher!)
5 eggs, separated
3 cups flour, sifted
1 tablespoon baking powder
1-1/2 teaspoons cinnamon or to taste
1/2 cup black coffee
1 teaspoon baking soda, dissolved in the coffee
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts or toasted pecans (optional)
 

Instructions:
 
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously grease 2 loaf pans.
 
Cream together the honey, sugar, and shortening. Add the egg yolks, and mix well.
 
Stir together the flour, baking powder, and cinnamon. Add them to the honey mixture, alternating with the coffee/baking soda solution. Add the vanilla and the nuts (if you’re using them).
 
Beat the egg whites just until they hold a peak, and fold them into the batter. Pour the batter into the prepared pans.
 
Bake for 1 hour (or a little less), or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cakes comes out dry. Begin looking at the cakes after 40 minutes.
 
If they look brown on the outside but are wet on the inside, turn the oven down to 300 degrees, and continue checking every 5 minutes until the toothpick test works.
 
Let the cakes cool in their pans for 20 minutes;then gently loosen them with a knife or a spatula, and slide them onto a rack to finish cooling. Makes 2 loaves.

Ninety Years in the Making

Thursday, September 25th, 2008
My Mother
My Mother

Tomorrow– September 26, 2008–my mother Jan turns 90. (Obviously, she was incredibly old when I was born since I’m only 39.)

For years and years she took care of me, exhibiting common sense, humor, and a complete inability to feel guilt. I have never been able to fathom that last characteristic. I feel guilty at the drop of a hat. If my mother makes a mistake, she says, “Oh, well”; apologizes; and promptly forgets about the whole matter. I think her non-guilt is one of the things that has kept her going all these years.
 
These days, of course, it would be fairer to say that we take care of each other. She had polio in the early 1950s, and her balance is far from good. She gets frailer by the month. She frequently forgets to eat (something I can’t imagine myself doing, alas, even at 90!). Consequently, she needs a little help getting around, fixing meals, turning on the television set (why is it that remotes become increasingly difficult to use even as the American population ages?), remembering which pills to take. I give that help cheerfully—most of the time.
 
She still helps me as well, however. When I’m cooking something challenging she pitches in in the kitchen, serving as sous chef and dishwasher. When I’m frazzled she calms me down. Best of all, she provides an example of cheer and grace I’d love to emulate. We don’t always agree, but we always appreciate each other.
 
jan-attacks-web2
 
The year after I graduated from Mount Holyoke College, I visited the campus and fulfilled one of my undergraduate dreams by attending the weekly faculty happy hour. I met Roger Holmes, a professor emeritus who had known my mother in the 1930s. I asked him whether he remembered her and rattled off her maiden name and graduation year. He sipped his drink, nodded, and murmured appreciatively, “Short and full of life.” Those five words still describe Jan Hallett Weisblat pretty darn well.
 
Here’s a pudding my mother entered in the 2006 Pudding Hollow Pudding Contest. She obtained the recipe from her mother, Clara Engel Hallett, who taught her to cook as Jan taught me to cook. It’s lovely and light—and tastes even better with key-lime juice and rind instead of lemon. I’m thinking of putting a candle on top and using it as a birthday cake tomorrow.
 
 

 
Clara’s Lemon Angel Pudding
 
Ingredients:
 
6 eggs, divided
1-1/2 cups sugar, divided
3/4 cup lemon juice
2 pinches salt
1 envelope gelatin, dissolved in 1/4 cup cold water
1/2 large (or 1 small) angel-food cake, broken into bite-sized pieces
1 cup heavy cream, whipped and sweetened
lemon peel for garnish
 
Instructions:
 
Beat together the egg yolks, 3/4 cup sugar, the lemon juice, and 1 pinch salt. Cook over a double boiler until the mixture thickens and coats a spoon. Remove the mixture from the heat, and stir in the dissolved gelatin.
 
Beat together the egg whites, remaining sugar, and remaining salt until stiff. Fold the whites gently into the custard mixture. In a trifle bowl (or another decorative bowl), alternate layers of the custard and pieces of cake, beginning and ending with the custard. Chill the mixture at least from morning to night, preferably for 24 hours.
 
Just before serving, cover the top with whipped cream, and grate some lemon peel on top for color. Serves 10.
 
For more information about the Pudding Hollow Pudding Contest, visit its web page.
 
Here’s a later update to this post, adding a couple of photographs from my mother’s 90th birthday party, which was a joyous occasion. The first photograph depicts my sister-in-law Leigh and my nephew Michael getting ready to decorate her birthday cake, or rather her birthday cakes; each of them decorated one! The second depicts the finished cakes. You can probably guess who decorated each. Leigh’s aesthetic philosophy is “less is more,” and Michael’s is “more is more.”
 
The final picture is one we all treasure, a photograph of my mother (left) with her younger brother Bruce Hallett and baby sister Lura Hallett Smith. We were thrilled to have all three siblings together for the celebration.
 

michael-and-leigh-decorate-web

cakes-web1

siblings-web1