Sunday Supper: "Jambalaya" Risotto

Anytime I see quotations around any part of a recipe title I roll my eyes. I don't want to be misguided and quotations are a pretty good sign that the title is very subjective. That's one of the great things about food - we eaters view the same things differently. I say jambalaya and you might think shrimp or chicken or andouille. Maybe you think of the holy trinity or creole spice or Zataran(!). So let me be clear - when I hear jambalaya I think - rice, smokey, tomato, trinity. I also think of a dish with a nice contrast of texture. The rice should be sort of soft, but not mushy, the vegetables should still have some life left in them.  Notice I listed rice first. It's the part I always screw up - too crunchy, too mushy, or worse when it is both mushy and crunchy. But risotto, I can and will do well. And that's how we ended up here, with a quotation in our recipe title.

Chocolate and Beer Cupcakes

I am a fan of Fridays (hello, weekend!), of chocolate, of beer, of rom-coms and snuggling. I also love puppies, especially squishy ones eating ice cream, but who doesn't?! But what I really like is a recipe that feels fussed up, but actually requires a very minimal effort on my part.

Thirsty Thursday: Toasted Almond

I don't know about you, but I generally don't keep amaretto stocked in the bar. Among my bar regulars are bourbon, vodka, gin, and rum. Sure, we have a bottle of Kahlua and now some Rootbeer liquor. I mentioned picking up the amaretto for a very special cake I made recently. Now that I have a bottle of amaretto in the bar I feel obligated to give it a go in a few classic cocktails.

Something Southern Sunday: Biscuit Blues

I was prepared to present you with the biscuits at the top left hand side, there. I wasn't really proud of them.  They were the most tender biscuits I had tested so far, but they didn't have the flavor I've been searching for.

Whole Wheat Oatmeal and Chocolate Chip Cookies

I do not like raisins. Ok, I kind of like them if they are covered in chocolate or sometimes if they are golden. My sister despises them so much that she tells people she is allergic, which I guess is true of anything you dislike so much it makes you sick.

Maybe this is why my favorite cookie became oatmeal chocolate chip. My mom made them often from the recipe on the Quaker box. She used a lot more cinnamon and would keep a supply in the freezer.

A Vanilla Bean Paste Haiku

I had to look up the rules for a haiku. Was 7th grade that long ago? Wait was it even 7th grade where we learned that?

Regardless - I wanted to profess my unabashed love of vanilla bean paste. You can use it in place of vanilla extract and it since it contains bits of the seeds it feels super fancy, but since you can also use it in place of real vanilla bean, it feels super frugal too. Without further ado - my vanilla bean paste haiku:

Fragrant but sticky

cheapness never so fancy

Seedy and smooth

Apologies if I got it all wrong - wikipedia is suppose to be a reliable source right?

Vanilla Bean Paste via the web: here, here, and here.

Ps. If you are in the greater Metro Atlanta area, Your Dekalb Farmers Market has got the best price around.

Thirsty Thursday: Blackmaker Floats

I stopped to buy amarretto for a cake I am making for Saturday. Something about the label caught my eye. What can I say - I liked the label and I love root beer.

The label tells a story of a strange "maker" herbalist who created the secret blend for this liqueur. Dude sounds like a creep to me or at least some sort of gypsy wanderer who shouldn't really be hawking anything that reminds me of childhood.

After sniffing and tasting and reading the label's suggestions, we decide a "float" would be the best drink for this liqueur. It is sort of sweet and reminds me of both my favorite adult beverage, the White Russian, and of a good ole fashioned rootbeer float.

Brown Butter and Vanilla Pancakes for Two

I don't like Valentine's Day. I'd much rather know I'm loved any day of the year than one day that everyone else is supposed to show their love too.

But I do like making pancakes and shaping them funnily. My dad used to make shaped pancakes in such brilliance as our initials or as a mouse. This is how I became "Meggie-Mouse" most of youth, unfortunately. My mom made pancakes every Sunday she could and we always, always, always had real Vermont Maple Syrup. She even brings her own syrup to restaurants that don't serve the real deal. So pancakes, love, there is a real connection. At least in my world.

Brown Butter and Vanilla Pancakes

Serves 2

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 1/2 tablespoons Vanilla Sugar

1 teaspoon Vanilla Bean Paste

1 large egg

1 1/2 cups buttermilk

Melt the butter in a large non-stick skillet over medium heat. Cook until the butter foams, the foam browns and sinks to the bottom of the pan, about 2 minutes. Remove the butter from the pan and set aside to cool while you assemble the rest of the ingredients.

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Combine the sugar, egg, buttermilk and butter in a medium bowl. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, mix gently, then rest for 10 minutes.

Heat the non-stick skillet over medium heat. Scoop 1/2 cup of batter into the pan and cook, 2 at a time, until the edges are dry and bubbles are appearing, before flipping. Cook until golden on the other side.

Keep warm in a 200˚F while repeating with the remaining batter.

Something Southern Sunday: Collard Greens

 



Last weekend warm weather teased Atlanta with the promise of Southern spring. Then temperatures dropped into the thirties and it rained most of the week. The grass at the park is still dead and wet, but the sunset is slowing further into the evening. I can think of nothing more appropriate to eat in the awkward end of winter than a pot of low and slow simmered collards. 

For most of my adolescence my mom dated a man from Athens Georgia. He created a feast every Sunday and he almost alway cooked collards. I did not eat them. I was scared of their scent, smokey, grassy, even muddy. The color was odd to me, "Shouldn't green foods be green?" I thought. I tried several times, but found their texture off putting. 




The first pot of greens I ever enjoyed happened much later in my life. I was living here, in Atlanta, at that point. It was recipe testing for a book. Ironically, they were everything I described above - smokey, earthy, hearty - but their texture had more contrast. 

I enjoy collard greens in more ways now than just a side dish for fried chicken or as part of Hoppin John on New Years. They make a lovely bed for a fried egg. They are great in soups, lasagnas, burritos... the list goes on and on. Recently I've taken to cooking a large pot and freezing the leftovers in quart sized ziptop bags. They thaw quickly and make quick weeknight meals taste like a Sunday supper. 

I know kale has been getting a lot of positive press these days, but I'd urge you try a pot of collards for the same nutritional but more soul soothing affects. 



Collard Greens 

makes about 6 servings 

2 pounds collard greens, stemmed

4 rashers bacon, chopped

1/2 a large onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon kosher salt

 Wash the greens thoroughly: If you use packed shredded greens - submerse in a sink of cold water, agitate rapidly with your hands and then let settle for about a minute (any dirt should settle to the bottom of the sink). Dry throughly in salad spinner or clean kitchen towels. If using whole leaves, rinse under cool running water, dry throughly and then chop by first stacking then rolling the leaves and slicing into thin ribbons.

Heat the bacon in a large cast iron dutch oven over medium heat until some fat has rendered - about 3 minutes. Add the onion and sweat until tender, another 2 minutes. Add the garlic, greens and water. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook 35 to 45 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes, until the greens are tender.

Thirsty Thursday: Sours

 



I ordered a Whiskey Sour the first night Brian took me to Top Flor. I remember feeling like it was a confident but safe cocktail order. Of course in someways, I was right: David Woodrich has called Sours "the children of punches" meaning that they are as easy to make as they are to drink; And of course, I was wrong too, because a Whiskey Sour is basically a whiskey and water that goes down much, much too easy. Sours are trouble if you are out for the first time, at a bar, with a boy you find so handsome that you have to drink just to shutter the nerves.

A Sour is lovely if you fancy a drink and your bar or fridge is quite bare. It requires only an alcohol, sugar, some citrus, and some water. You don't even need a cocktail shaker. A jar with a resealable lid will serve just fine - and it multiplies well! The first party I ever tended bar at served a Whiskey Sour as their signature cocktail and I mixed in a pitcher.



For almost a hundred years (from 1860 to 1960) the Whiskey Sour was considered the most American of cocktails. It was and is quick and simple, without fuss or flair, and quite flexible. The only point of argument among barkeeps of a Sour may come from its name sake: the sour.



Now, I am partial to a balanced sour, without too much sweetness, but gentle enough to still taste the liquor in the citrus. Some keepers demand that a Sour bite your teeth and clench the jaw so much so that your lips pucker. Recipes vary in the use of a whole lemon, a half, or a quarter to one drink. Taste and determine what you prefer. Then make yourself a drink or make your friends some punch.



Sour

2 ounce liquor: whiskey bourbon gin

1 ounce water

1 teaspoon sugar

1/2 a lemon, lime, or orange

Combine in a mason jar filled with ice. Lid and shake. Enjoy but be careful.

Classic Blondies

I admit that I haven't been the best poster this week. I've been working on getting some things into the Fork and Swoon shop along with creating a new Vintage shop with Brian. It is exciting and exhausting along with all the other work and life responsibilities, but I am really glad to get the ball rolling on both.

I threw together some blondies this afternoon to bring to Brian's sisters house tonight.

I think they still need some tweaking, but a very good basic recipe and easy to make on a whim.

Classic Blondies

2 sticks unsalted butter

1 cup light brown sugar

Melt the brown sugar and butter together in a medium saucepan over medium heat until smooth. Remove from the heat and cool for 10 minutes.

Heat the oven to 350˚F and line an 8x8 glass dish with a piece of parchment paper.

Add to the butter and sugar:

2 eggs

Beat until well combined.

Add 1 teaspoon vanilla and 1 cup of all purpose flour and a heavy pinch of kosher salt.

Stir until well combined and pour into the prepared pan. You can also fold in 1 cup of chocolate chips or walnuts or other nuts or m&ms or whatever before panning and baking. Bake for 25-28 minutes until golden and set to the touch. Cool for at least 20 minutes before using the parchment as a sling and cutting the blondies.

makes 12.

i

I packaged them in an old Olvatine container wrapped with a scrap of fun paper, just because, well I wanted them to be cute and yummy.

And don't worry I'm also bringing a salad.

Something Southern Sunday: Pimento Cheese

I sat for too long  staring at the photo above trying to best define what pimento cheese is. Plainly, it is pimento peppers that have been combined with mayonnaise, cream cheese and cheddar cheese. Additions are negotiable but include black pepper, cayenne, red pepper flakes, Worcestershire sauce; and, in certain parts of the South (Texas and Alabama, I believe), pickles.  Sometimes the peppers are jarred and other times fresh roasted. It is often spread on white loaves and served as sandwiches, or with crackers as a snack, and in celery as an appetizer. It is amazing in scrambled eggs. 

Tonight I proclaim it to be something above and beyond any of its flavors and functions and, call it a sidekick. With pimento cheese in my fridge, I always have something to serve company (with crackers and sweet tea), we always have something to slap on bread and eat on Saturday in between cleaning the yard and walking Miles, or as Brian prefers we always have a dip for Frito scoops. With pimento cheese, you will never be alone in the kitchen. 



Pimento Cheese

2 medium red bell peppers

8 ouncescream cheese, room temperature

1/2 cup mayonnaise (preferably Duke’s)

1/4teaspooncayenne pepper

black pepper, (I like a lot) to taste

kosher salt to taste

1 pound grated sharp cheddar cheese

Heat your broiler to high. Slice the ends from the red peppers; discard the seeds. Open the peppers by slicing from top to bottom and remove the white rib. Broiler the peppers (ends, too) on sheet pan until blackened, 5 minutes. Remove to a paper bag and cool for 5 minutes. Remove the blackened skin from the pepper by rubbing with a clean kitchen towel. Finely chop and set aside.

Combine the cream cheese, mayo, red pepper flakes, black pepper and salt. Add the cheddar cheese and chopped pepper and combine.  Store in an glass mason jar in the fridge for up to a week.

Thirsty Thursday: White Russian, Dude.

 



Appearing to have evolved from the Alexander in 1950s or early 1960s, the White Russian has no great origin story. The drink, of course, is not Russian but is so named, like its cousin the Black Russian, due to inclusion of vodka. Though many modern mixologist use half and half, cream was the original dairy of choice because it helped to "thicken" the drink.

We drank more than a few of these during the great ice storm. Then this week Design Sponge highlighted a cult classic in their "Living In Column" and I knew we had to address something here:

I am a Little Lebowski Urban Achiever.

Most of my junior year of high school was spent watching, no no, studying The Big Lebowski. As such, the White Russian was among the first cocktails I drank. Funnily, the infamous and revered David Woodrich described the drink as such in a New York Times Article from 2008: “When I first encountered it in the 1970s, the White Russian was something real alcoholics drank, or beginners.”  I still enjoy a good ole Caucasian and if that makes me an alcoholic by Mr. Woodrich's standards, I'm okay with it. The drink gets a bad rap for essentially being a grown-up milkshake and I personally think that is a shame; but the Dude abides:

The Classic White Russian

1 part coffee liquor

1 part vodka

1 part heavy cream or half and half

Pour the coffee liquor and vodka over ice in an old fashioned glass. Top with the cream.

Something Southern Sunday: Sweet Tea

I was not born or raised in the South. I spent some time growing up on the West Coast and some of early twenties in the Northeast. It wasn't until I went home over the holidays that I realized, with some remorse and some relief, that I am becoming Southern.

There were things I did not appreciate about the South when I first arrived: it is hot (why? why is it so hot?) and I wasn't always sure when I should say "Yes ma'am" and "No sir" (never? sometimes? always.) Though I will probably never be a true southern bell, I have fallen in love with a Southern man, his family, and have learned that being Southern is mostly about being graceful, thoughtful, and welcoming. Nothing epitomizes this for me more than Sweet Tea.

We did not have sweet tea growing up. Though I do remember my mom occasionally made sun tea, it was unsweetened. My sister asked me recently for a recipe "You want a recipe for tea?!," I thought. After sending it I realized - a lot of people make tea the wrong way - too many bags, too few bags, too long of a steep, too hot water. I'm certainly uncertain as to whether Mamaw Betty would approve, but I learned from Carmi Adams, who's about as Southern as I like.

Sweet Tea

Think of this more as a guideline than a recipe.

You will need a kettle or some other device for boiling water, a pitcher, black tea bags [I like Luzianne brand], sugar, water, and a timer (in this case I used my phone, it was handy):



For a gallon of tea:

Bring a quart of water to a boil. Pour the boiling water into the pitcher and cool for 5 minutes. Add the tea bag(s) [I used Luzianne Family sized bags which require one for a gallon, check your tea bag's box for guidelines]. Steep for 5 minutes. Remove the tea bag and add 1 cup of sugar.  Stir to dissolve and add three quarts of cold water. Give it a good stir and chill or serve immediately over ice.



I find a pitcher of tea starts to taste off after a week or so in the fridge, so make it and enjoy it often.

One of my favorite moments of our Seattle visit was during a breakfast at the Original Pancake House. Brian leaned across the table to ask me in a whisper, "Do you think they have sweet tea." "No Darling," I said, audibly, "Sweet tea is a Southern thing." We both laughed.

Dark and Stormy

 



It's hot, mean hot, in Atlanta during August. Somedays we're lucky enough to wake up to a cloudy sky that holds the humidity against the city until late afternoon when the clouds break and we get a quick shower. Today was one of those days. And being forced to wear pant in such weather (our office is always cold) I was dreaming of a cold beverage from the moment I stepped out of the house.

[Craving alcohol before 9 am is totally normal, right?!]

Traditionally a Dark and Stormy is a spring cocktail (you know, May showers?). It's also the national drink of Bermuda and one of the few cocktails with a copyright. You can read more about all that here, because, really, let's get to the drink.

Dark and Stormy

Ice

2 ounces Dark rum (preferably Gosling's, see link above)

6 ounces ginger beer (I like Reid's)

lime wedges to serve.

Fill a tall glass with ice. Top with rum, followed by the ginger beer, stir gently and enjoy.

Pickled Hot Peppers

Pickled hot peppers are one of those foods that fill a small hole in my heart.