Taste of Summer in Winter: Pappa al Pomodoro (Tomato Bread Soup)

If you have ever dipped a piece of bread in a pot of spaghetti sauce, this recipe is for you.  It is apparently the typical after school snack of children in Tuscany, and let me tell you, it beats milk and cookies by a mile. I have run across similar recipes, and have always been intrigued, but until now, have never made it.  It almost seemed too delicious to have for supper, a guilty pleasure for an adult in the same way that having pancakes for dinner might be for a child.  With the right tomatoes, it is a bright taste of summer in the middle of this drab winter, and it is exactly what we needed last week.  I used tomatoes that I had canned last summer, and they were perfect.  You could wait until summer to try pappa al pomodoro, or you could spend a few dollars extra and buy some San Marzano tomatoes, which I think would be almost as good as really good home-canned ones.  Add some fresh basil and some fresh ground pecorino romano, and it really is seriously awesome.

Pappa al Pomodoro (Tomato Bread Soup)

Adapted from Cooking with Italian Grandmothers by Jessica Theroux

1 medium loaf day old rustic Italian bread, crust removed and cut into cubes

2 pounds fresh tomatoes, or canned plum tomatoes

5 large garlic cloves, sliced very thin

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2-2 cups chicken stock

salt

1/4 cup fresh torn basil leaves

extra virgin olive oil for garnish

Put the tomatoes through a foodmill or in a blender to create a chunky puree.  In a large saucepan, saute the garlic slices in the olive oil for a few minutes.  When it is just about to turn golden, place the bread in the pot, and sprinkle about 1/2 cup of the chicken stock over the bread cubes.  Stir to coat the bread in the garlic and oil.  Add the pureed tomatoes, a large pinch of salt, and another cup of chicken stock.  Stir every five minutes or so as the soup comes to a simmer,  After 30 minutes, taste the pappa, add salt if necessary, and add more chicken stock if the consistency is not right.  It should be a mush; not too liquidy.  When ready to serve, add the basil, and serve in small bowls, sprinkled with pecorino romano cheese and drizzled with olive oil.

Better Than a TV Dinner: Chicken Pot Pie

The first pot pie I ever ate was a frozen one from the supermarket, probably Swanson's or something like that.  Shortly after my father died, my mother began working at a bank in the neighborhood, and although she was nearly always home when we got home from school, she worked until 7 PM on Friday nights.  We lived in the same house as my grandparents, so this was no problem.  We arrived home to the warm greeting of my grandmother.  My sister and I were about 10 and 11 years old, and my mother had taught us how to do a basic, decent cleaning of the house.  Our home was on one level, and we had a finished basement as well, so each week, Betsy and I would take turns: one of us would dust and vacuum the upstairs, and the other would dust and vacuum the downstairs.  The upstairs was larger, and there was more to do, but the basement, as it was our domain, was inevitably messier and dirtier, so it was really a toss up as to which one would take longer.  On the week I cleaned the basement, I could have the TV on, which made the cleaning seem to go by a little faster, but on the week I cleaned the upstairs, there was time to look closely at the beautiful pieces of china and crystal my mother had, all of which she had taken such good care of over the years.

After we had done the cleaning, our 'chores' on Friday, the deal was that we were allowed to cook a TV dinner for ourselves.  My grandmother, who was right upstairs, and had cooked dinner for herself and my grandfather, was beside herself on a weekly basis.  Why didn't we just eat with them?  Why would we want these frozen meals in an aluminum pan when she had made a homemade, delicious meal of which there was plenty? More than one argument arose out of that scenario. Now, of course, the idea of eating a TV dinner is less than appealing, but at the time, it seemed very exciting.  We got to choose our own meals when we went to the grocery store with my mother during the week.  We could each have something different.  I remember my sister being partial to the Salisbury Steak, whereas I liked the Stouffer's mac and cheese, or the turkey dinner, or eventually, I discovered, the pot pie.  Chicken (or turkey)? Gravy? Pie crust?  Why had we never had this before? 

Looking back, I understand that what we really wanted was not the TV dinners so much as the independence and responsibility that came with them.  Two almost-teen-age girls allowed to be home by ourselves (okay, Gram and Grandpa were right upstairs), given the charge of cleaning the house and then allowed to 'cook' and eat dinner together on the couch, in front of the TV at the end of the week, and enjoy the feeling of satisfaction that comes from doing a (pretty good) job.  Perhaps it is why Friday evening is still my favorite time of the week; the work week is done, and nothing but the prospect of two days of freedom lies ahead.

This recipe takes a few liberties; it is by no means a classic pot pie. I also cut a few time-saving corners, using puff pastry instead of making pie crust, so if you are a purist, by all means, make the crust.  I was looking at this as a pot pie you could make after a day at work.  Not too difficult, but still a treat for a Friday night, or any night for that matter.

Chicken Pot Pie  (makes 6 individual pot pies, or you can make 1 large one in a 9x13 inch pan)

1 box (2 sheets) frozen puff pastry, thawed
The meat from a medium roasted chicken (confession: I used a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store)
3 large carrots, chopped
1 medium onion, diced
3 stalks celery, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp thyme
salt and pepper to taste
4 potatoes, peeled, and chopped into  1/2 inch cubes
1 1/2 packages Green Giant petite peas (or any frozen peas that you like)
2 tbsp butter
4 tbsp olive oil, divided
3 tbsp all purpose flour
32 oz good quality chicken stock
1 tsp chicken demi-glace, optional
1 egg, beaten

Toss the potatoes in 1 tbsp olive oil and some salt, and put them in a cast iron skillet or a baking tray covered in foil. Roast at 375 degrees for about 40 minutes, until golden brown.  While they are roasting, put the celery, onions, garlic, and carrots in an oven proof skillet with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and sautee on medium heat until transluscent, 4-5 minutes.  Pop the whole skillet into the oven for about 10 minutes, just to get a little color on the vegetables.  In the meantime, melt the butter in a large saucepan.  Add the remaining olive oil and the flour.  Turn the heat to medium, and with a wisk, mix the fat and flour, cooking them until the roux turns a deep golden brown.  Add the chicken stock gradually, wisking constantly to avoid any lumps. Add the demi-glace, if using.  Bring the mixture up to a boil while wisking.  Return to a simmer, and add the onion, celery, carrot mixture.  Add the fresh thyme and let simmer for about 20 minutes. Taste, and add salt and pepper if needed. after 20 minutes, add the peas and stir.  Bring back to temperature.

Roll out the puff pastry and cut circles as large as the bottom of the pot pie container you are using.  I used large soup bowls, so I cut 1 small circle and 1 larger one for each pot pie.  Lay the puff pastry circles on a baking sheet, and poke several fork holes in each. Brush the beaten egg on the circles that will serve as the lid of the pot pies. Bake according to the package directions until the pastry is just barely golden.

When all the components are done, beging to assemble the pot pies.  First, put the small circles of puff pastry in the bottom of each container.  Add some potatoes and some shredded chicken.  Then pour the gravy and pea mixture.  Topwith one of the larger pastry circles.  Repeat until all the ingredients are used up.  Place the pot pies on a baking sheet and return to the 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes, or until the insides are bubbly and the top pastry is a deep golden brown.  Serve immediately.

A Birthday Cake For Mom: Orange, Almond, and Olive Oil Cake

If I learned to cook by watching my grandmother, I learned to squeeze every ounce of joy from life by watching my mother.  She truly enjoys life more than anyone I know.  This week she celebrated her birthday, and to watch her in action, you would never guess her age.  She goes to the gym almost every day, travels extensively with friends and family, attends plays, movies, concerts, and is in the stands at all the home games of the UCONN men's and women's basketball teams.  She volunteers her time for several worthy causes, she helps those in her community, and in my house, we couldn't live without her.  She runs my girls to many of their activities, attends their soccer or basketball games, picks them up after school from time to time, runs errands for us, stays home with the girls when they are sick.  She is like a third parent in so many ways.  She has taken her lead from her own mother, my grandmother, in terms of being intimately involved in the day to day aspects of our lives.  She lives with a vibrancy and joy that I admire greatly, and she passes it on to everyone around her.

My mother's life has not been easy; she was very sick as a child, in and out of convalescent homes until she was about 9 years old.  She survived a sickness that one of her friends did not.  She married my father, gave birth to my sister and to me, and after just 16 years of marriage, lost my father to a sudden heart attack.  She was faced with the task of raising two daughters on her own.  Like everything else she does in life, she faced her new role with grace and joy.  She did not feel sorry for herself, nor did she ever allow us to feel sorry for ourselves.  The message was clear:  life would go on, and we would be happy. My father would have wanted nothing less. Even as a kid, I marveled at her strength, and as I got older and became a wife and a mother of two girls myself, I was more and more in awe of this amazing woman.

One of the best decisions she made was to return to college, earning her Bachelor's degree while working and raising us.  She had lots of help; she knew the benefits of surrounding us with our extended family.  My grandmother and grandfather, who lived just upstairs from us, and my Nana, were always there to support us, as were our aunts, uncles and cousins who lived so close by (several on the same street!). When Mom finished school, she worked hard to put my sister and me through college, and she always managed to find time for fun.  She continued to travel, and spend time with her friends and family.  She was active in our church, starting a food pantry for families in need, volunteering her time and energy wherever she saw a need.  She continues to be willing to try just about anything, which is one of the secrets to staying youthful.

I have not often written about my mother, and the reason is this:  it is hard to find words to fully express the depth of love, respect, and gratitude I feel for this woman.  She is my mentor, my sounding board, and my friend, and I cannot find words adequate to express all she means to me, to Michael, and to my girls.

Though my mother claims not to be a good cook, the truth is that she just doesn't enjoy it.  She loves having people over, and is the very best at organizing and presenting a heck of a dinner party.  For her birthday this week, Michael and I had a dinner party in her honor.  We had several of her dear friends, and my Aunt Judy and Uncle Bobby.  Auntie Judy, my father's younger sister, has the same birthday as my mother, so it turned out to be quite a party. While my house is not nearly as immaculate and organized as my mother's, the food and especially the company were quite fabulous. I wanted to bake a cake as unique as my mom, and I stumbled across this recipe I had cut out some time ago from a newspaper.  I made a few changes, added some whipped cream, and it was delicious.  A great ending to a wonderful celebration!

Orange, Almond, and Olive Oil Cake
1/4 cup sliced almonds

6 ounces blanched almonds

1 cup flour
1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

4 large eggs at room temperature

1 1/2 cups sugar

Zest of 1 large orange

Juice of 1 large orange (about 1/2 cup)

1/2 cup fruity extra virgin olive oil

Heat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease the bottom and sides of a 9-inch spring form pan, and spread the sliced almonds in the bottom.  Finely grind the blanched almonds in the food processor until they look like bread crumbs.  Beat the eggs in the bowl of a stand mixer until frothy.  Add the sugar slowly, and beat the mixture until it is lemon colored. Add the ground almonds, baking powder, and salt.  Mix quickly, and then add the flour in slowly.  Add the orange juice, the orange zest, and the olive oil, and mix just until combined.  Pour batter into the prepared baking pan.  Bake until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean, about 50-60 minutes.  Serve with whipped cream.

Snow Day Bliss: Michael's Black Beans

Once, several years ago after new neighbors had moved in a couple of houses up, they invited my daughters over on a snow day to play with their kids.  They indicated that they would feed the kids lunch, "Although,"  the neighbor stated, "I am not sure it will be terribly creative. I don't have a lot of food in the house.  I am just not the kind of person who heads to the grocery store when a storm is coming,"  she said derisively.  I knew instantly that she and I would not be friends.  I am the kind of person who heads to the grocery store.  It is the first thing I think to do, and the crowds never annoy me. Inevitably, I will hear a cashier say, "Everyone is freaking out because we are expecting three inches of snow."  But there I always am, at the grocery store, buying all kinds of unusual ingredients, not because I am afraid of I will be snowed in and starve.  I know that studies show that the average American family could eat for three months on just the food in their freezer and pantry alone.  We could probably go longer.  I see a snowy day, though, as an opportunity.  It is freedom to cook whatever you feel like eating, bake delicious treats, spend time in the kitchen and as a result, warm your home, create amazing aromas, and fill the bellies of those you love most.In short, it enables us to create that feeling of coziness that we are so often lacking in our hectic lives.  When I learn of a snowstorm coming, I begin to imagine what I might want to cook.  I go to the grocery store and walk slowly up and down each aisle, looking, pondering.  I am pretty sure they see me coming and put out all the expensive, specialty items, knowing that I will see them and want them.  I may make phone calls home asking my husband or daughters to look up recipes just to make sure I have all the ingredients necessary.  Then I buy extra ingredients just in case.

One of my fondest memories from when my husband and I were dating was a particularly snowy winter.  I had a little apartment not far from where he lived, and on several occasions that winter when a decent amount of snow was predicted, we'd go to a great market nearby, stock up on anything we might even be tempted to cook over the next twenty-four hours or so, and then just hunker down, pots aboil, sauces simmering, luxuriating int he comfort of being together, and creating some memorable meals.  It was during one of these storms that Michael first made his "Black Beans."  He has made it hundreds of times since, and it is a sure crowd pleaser.  Friends of ours who are avowed non-cooks have asked for the recipe and have made it themselves, assuring us it is not difficult, and our daughters ask for it regularly.  It is warm, light, filling, healthy, and even picky eaters love it (just ask our daughter Anna). It is great in the summer at a barbecue or in the winter, and it always evokes the feeling in me of being happily tucked inside with the people I love best, knowing that there is nothing I would rather be doing, even if I could.

Nowadays, snowstorms usually happen on a weekday when, although Emily, Anna, and I get to stay home, Michael has to go to work.  So my snowstorm cooking is usually with my girls.  We often bake cookies, make meatballs and sauce, or a pot of soup.  They ask me how I learned to cook, and I tell them stories of growing up  downstairs from their Nonna, who made many delicious meals for them, and whom they loved deeply. I hope they will look back on these days with the same warm memories.  I hope they will understand that it was not just about the food that we cooked, but rather, about honoring the past, tending to the needs of those we love, being together and being present to eachother.  It is luxury to have time, unexpected and uninterrupted, with those we love the most, and good food makes it both ritual and celebration.

Michael's Black Beans:

3 stalks celery, chopped

4-5 garlic cloves, chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

2 large carrots, chopped

4 tbs olive oil

6 15 oz. cans black beans, drained and rinsed

1  15 oz. can pinto beans, drained and rinsed

1 15 oz. can diced tomatoes

1/4 cup prepared green salsa

1 bay leaf

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp black pepper

1 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp chili powder

48 oz chicken stock

In the bottom of a heavy pot, saute the onions, garlic, carrots and celery in the olive oil.  Reduce heat, and cover, cooking until they are soft.  Add the bay leaf, the tomatoes, and the green salsa. Stir until combined and simmer for about five minutes.  Add the chicken stock and spices.  Add all but about 1/2 cup of the black beans.  In the meantime, place the remaining black beans and all the pinto beans in a blender with a few ladles of the chicken stock from the pot.  Blend until smooth, then add back into the pot, stirring to dissolve the bean paste. This will thicken the black beans as they cook and reduce.  Bring the mixture up to temperature, then reduce heat on the pot to simmer, and leave uncovered, stirring occasionally.  The longer this sits simmering, the tastier it will be.  It will have the consistency of a thick soup or a stew.  We sometimes serve it with rice, and sometimes all by itself with a slice of dense, crusty bread or with some cornbread.  It is great with a dollop of sour cream, some chopped red onion, and a sprinkle of shredded cheddar cheese.

Perfect for a Party: Tiramisu

I must tell you there are not many things I like better in this world than a party.  It could be a dinner party, a cocktail party, a small intimate gathering with just a few friends, I am good with all of them. I like planning them,  I like hosting them, I like going to them. A party is an excellent excuse to buy a new outfit  (maybe something a little sparkly), get dressed up and enjoy the company of good friends.  Our friends Kevin and Kristine had a lovely Christmas party this past weekend.  Good wine, good food, some festive music, and great company were the trademark of the evening.  I always feel that if I am willing to help out, people will be more willing to have parties in the future, so I volunteered to bring along a dessert.  I made tiramisu, which I had never made before, and by all accounts, it came out pretty well.  I felt a little guilty, because tiramisu is not a very difficult thing to make.  In fact, it is more about the assembly than anything else.  My sister sent me her recipe, and I looked at a few others in various cookbooks before I sort of made up my own.  It involved only one actual bit of cooking.  That was the cooking of egg yolks and sugar in a double boiler on the stove top.  I even used instant espresso, since we are not coffee drinkers in my house, and I don't even own a coffee pot (when I have my own parties, I assign coffee to one of the guests, and they bring it in a lovely thermal carafe).  It was rich, not too sweet, and had a little kick from the espresso and Kahlua.  It is important to make it the night before so that the moisture seeps into the dry lady fingers, and all the flavors come together.

Tiramisu:

6 egg yolks

1 cup sugar

2 8 oz. containers mascarpone cheese

2 cups whipping cream

1 1/2 cups espresso (cold)

1/2 cup Kahlua

cocoa powder for dusting the top

dark chocolate curls for garnish

2 packages dry lady fingers

In the top of a double boiler, place the egg yolks and the sugar.  Whisk and bring up to temperature.  Once the water in the bottom of the double boiler is boiling, reduce heat and whisk continuously for 10 minutes.  Take the mixture off the heat. Add the mascarpone cheese and continue whisking until it is well incorporated.  Let the mixture cool.  In the meantime, whip the cream until stiff peaks form.  Gently fold the whipped cream into the cheese mixture.

Prepare a 9 x 13 inch pan.  Quickly dip the lady fingers, one at a time, into the espresso, then place in the bottom of the pan.  Line the pan entirely, then sprinkle the tops of the lady fingers with about half of the Kahlua.  Spoon the cheese and whipped cream mixture over the lady fingers until covered entirely.  Continue the procedure with the lady fingers, creating another layer, ending with the cheese and whipped cream mixture.  Using a fine sifter, dust the top of the dessert with cocoa powder.  Use a vegetable peeler to make chocolate curls, and place on top of the tiramisu.  Let sit overnight before serving.

Christmas Cookies: Mimi's Meltaway Horns

I have often written about my mother's lack of interest in cooking.  She loves good food and is happy to bring good wine along to a meal that we have cooked at our house.  She is excellent company and is a great help in cleaning up after a good meal, but she has no interest in actually cooking.  She is, however, quite an excellent baker, and makes the best desserts. When we were growing up, she would spend hours and hours baking wonderful Christmas cookies.  She had incredible patience in dealing with two young girls who wanted to get their hands into everything.  She always encouraged us and made the Christmas baking a festive and enjoyable event to which we looked forward.  She made a number of different kinds of cookies.  Back in the days before "cookie swaps"  were popular, my mother would regularly put out a platter of many different kinds of cookies, made all by her (and us).  To this day, I view the baking of the Christmas cookies one of the holiday festivities; it is not just the finished product that is the enjoyable part, but the process of baking the cookies, too.  In fact, that is very much the way my mother always lived her life, and does to this day.  It is not only what we accomplish that should be enjoyable.  It is important to enjoy the process as well, and if you can do it surrounded by those we love, all the better.

So, the holiday baking season is upon us, and my mom's favorite kind of cookie is the one I made first this year.  My sister and I were not terribly fond of them when we were little.  They were not very sweet, and they had nuts:  the kiss of death for young kids.  As an adult now, however, I totally get it.  These have a delicious crust, are light and flaky, subtly sweet.  The star of the show in these cookies is the cinnamon, so buy the best you can, as I did.  I splurged and ordered it from King Arthur Flour, and it was worth every cent.

Mimi's Meltaway Horns

For the crust:

3 cups flour

1/2 lb butter, very cold

1/2 pint sour cream

3 egg yolks

1 package dry yeast

In the bowl of a food processor, place flour, yeast, and butter.  Process on short pulses until the mixture resembles cornmeal.  Add sour cream and egg yolks, and process until well mixed and smooth.  Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

For the filling:

3 egg whites, beaten until light and fluffy

2 tbsp good quality cinnamon

3 tbsp granulated sugar

1 cup chopped nuts (pecans or walnuts)

To prepare the cookies:

Cut the large ball of dough into 4 equal pieces.  Roll each out on a floured surface to about 1/8 inch thickness.  Using a pastry brush, brush the beaten egg whites on the dough circle.  Sprinkle with 1/4 of the cinnamon sugar mixture, then the chopped nuts.  Cut each circle into 16 wedges, then roll each wedge up starting from the wider end.  Place on a baking sheet.  Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes, or until lightly golden brown.  Let cool on wire racks, then sprinkle with confectioners sugar.

Splurging on Holiday Baking Ingredients: Homemade Vanilla Extract

I always thought that someday, when I earned enough money, I would only buy the best ingredients for my recipes, shop exclusively at local markets and places like Whole Foods, buy only artisan cheese, local honey, fresh pasta.  You know, that kind of thing. Growing up, we did not have a lot of money, nor did my mother's family when she was young, but there was always good food.  My grandmother always believed it is important to eat well.  We may not have had a lot, but we always had good meals, cooked by and eaten in the company of the people who loved us most, so we never felt poor.

 I still hope that day will come that I am able to buy the finest of ingredients, but in the meantime, I am doing the best I can making good food with the best stuff I can buy.  I did, however, decide to splurge recently on some ingredients for my holiday baking.  I love to shop from the King Arthur Flour company.  The products are fresh, wonderful, and everything I have tried is very high quality.  I regularly buy their cinnamon mini chips for the scones I make.  This time, I decided to buy some real vanilla beans to make my own vanilla extract. They arrived in a plastic vial, plump and pliable, much healthier looking than the ones I had eyed at the supermarket. This falls into the category of a recipe for an ingredient, and I completely stole the idea from Ina Garten.  The problem is that I should have decided to do this a few weeks ago, as the vanilla extract will not be ready for my holiday baking.  I am consoling myself with the fact that I will have some awesome New Year baking going on in my house.  Just in time for dieting.  So after the Christmas bills are paid, I will still have my little slice of luxury:  juicy vanilla beans and delicious homemade vanilla extract made from real vanilla beans and good vodka, ready to be used in a drink recipe.

Vanilla Extract (adapted from Ina Garten)

2 or more vanilla beans

8 oz. good quality vodka

Place the vanilla beans in a mason jar.  Cover with the vodka.  Let sit at room temperature for a month or until the vodka has turned into vanilla extract and the beans are more pliable.  This can sit at room temperature indefinitely.