Orange Obsession

I'm usually two steps behind every season. When tomatoes finally appear at the market, all ripe and luscious, I'm still dreaming of spring's slender asparagus stalks. And when the evenings grow cooler as the sunlight fades earlier everyday, I dream of tomatoes.

This is why I'm rather dumbfounded right now. You see, the most autumnal of vegetables has me deep in its clutches. And it's still October. The timing couldn't be better. At this very moment I'm obsessed with squash, pumpkin and sweet potatoes-- everything orange. Gone are my daydreams about fresh blueberry pie or sweet corn risotto. I'm craving butternut squash pizza, pumpkin parfaits, and sweet potato casserole, Cooks Illustrated-style. Pumpkin gets its big moment in just a few days and then after that, we're heading straight into the month of Thanksgiving. I can't wait! Here's what I'll be making:

Butternut Squash Pizza
    with Apples, Fontina, Gorgonzola and Sage

The Gourmet Cookbook has an excellent pizza crust recipe that I've been using lately. Crispy and flavorful, it's resilient and easy to shape. For the last two weeks I've been experimenting with this squash pizza. Thinly sliced apple is a must. So is the Fontina cheese. The squash is best if cut in a large dice, seasoned heartily, and roasted just long enough to soften, but not long enough to lose its shape. I'm thinking about making some kind of sauce... either a white sauce or a pesto. A sage pesto? Sage and parsley? I will experiment.

Pumpkin Parfaits

Again, I turn to Gourmet. There's a recipe for Pumpkin Parfaits on Gourmet.com and the image of them is just too delicious-looking not to share:

The crumbled cookies are gingersnaps, which I think is brilliant. The pumpkin is spiced and thickened with gelatin and cream. The whipped cream is spiked with vanilla. I want to throw a dinner party just so I can serve these parfaits.

Sweet Potato Casserole

This dish is legendary among certain circles. Okay, certain sweet potato-loving circles. Cooks Illustrated published the recipe in 2005 and it's bizarre how many people I know have worked it into their repertoire. There's just something amazing about it. The sweet potatoes are roasted and then whipped within an inch of their life with brown sugar and spices. Then the dish is baked with a slightly salty, mostly sweet, streusel on top. The final bite is smooth, full of dimension-- sweet, fruity, and floral-- with a bright citrus note from the fresh lemon juice squeezed into the filling. And I swear I can taste the rich smokiness of bacon even though there's none, but maybe it's just me. This issue of Cooks also contains an utterly satisfying pasta dish with cannellini beans, kale and garlic breadcrumbs. Hmm, if I ever lose this issue I may cry.

Will my orange obsession see me through to Thanksgiving? How many varieties of squash can one person reasonably try? I soon shall see.

A Jigger of History

A month ago, Gourmet.com debuted a fabulous guide to cocktails that spans the seven decades of the magazine's publication. Beginning with the stiff libations of the 1940s, each decade has had it's own week to shine on the homepage. Right now we're in the midst of the 1990s, which saw the debut of the popular rum mojito and the less illustrious "compound fracture punch." I must admit, I'm afraid to see what the millennium--and all of its sugary liquors--wrought on the world of drinks. Then again, I've always been more of a whiskey-on-the-rocks kind of girl, so maybe I'm biased. Here are some of my favorite classic cocktails:

1940s

The Sidecar: Equal parts Cointreau, brandy and fresh lemon juice. I like mine with a rim of sugar.

1950s

The Moscow Mule: Oh man, you are in for a treat. Vodka + Ginger Beer + lime juice. Make it with dark rum and you've got a Dark and Stormy.

1960s
The French 75: Chilled Gin with a generous dose of lemon juice and simple syrup. Shaken and topped with champagne.

1970s
The Advocaat (Dutch Eggnog): Okay, I'm only endorsing this one in theory, since I've yet to encounter an Advocaat in person. I'm a fan of eggnog, so why not a boozy Netherlands version of it? You can't go wrong with freshly grated nutmeg.

1980s
The Gold Cadillac: Heavy cream blended with Galliano and white Creme de Cacao. Basically it's an ICE CREAM drink with a sexy name. Enough said.

1990s
The Gimlet: My all-time favorite summer drink. The classic recipe calls for gin, but I like it with vodka.

And we shall see what the 2000s hold... 

All images from Gourmet.com

From the Stack: The Gourmet Cookbook

In honor of the passing of Gourmet Magazine, I will be trying out recipes from The Gourmet Cookbook this week. A lot has already been said about the shuttering of this institution, so let me just say this: for me, Gourmet hit the sweet spot of food magazines. I could easily lose an entire afternoon perusing the gorgeous photography spreads. I loved daydreaming about the indulgent dishes I would never make and reading journalistic essays about every facet of the food world (for one thing, I will never look at tomatoes the same way again). Yet, for all of the fantasizing, I actually cooked quite a bit from the magazine. In every issue, I could rely on at least three or four delicious, but quick recipes that I could work into my weeknight cooking repertoire.



I will definitely miss the thrill of finding a new issue in my mailbox. I will miss the show-stopping Thanksgiving menus Gourmet concocted every year. But even more, I will mourn the loss of this great chronicler of American cuisine. From 1941 to 2009--oh the places we've been!

Love at First Bite

I am not one to evangelize granola. In fact, my idea of a treat almost always involves a dairy product (hello, cheeses of the world!). So when I first spotted this recipe for "Granola With a Perk of Olive Oil" in The New York Times, I was intrigued, but not ecstatic. I didn't trip over myself to get to Trader Joe's and raid the dried fruit and nut aisle in a wild frenzy. I remained calm.

After several months, I finally got around to this recipe and oh lord, do I need to make up for lost time! Melissa Clark must have been dead serious when she described the swarm of Brooklynites snatching up bags of this stuff at her corner grocery. I mixed my first batch at home on a Sunday evening. I mixed together rolled oats, pistachios, raw pumpkin seeds and shredded coconut. Then I tossed in the spices--cinnamon, cardamom--and added some light brown sugar and salt. The genius part of the recipe comes next. Maple syrup and olive oil drizzled in brings the mixture to new heights. As the granola baked for the next forty-five minutes, I found myself checking the clock and making excuses to go and give it a stir. Every time I opened up the oven, I swooned.

When the granola was done baking I mixed in some chopped dried apricots. Then I waited as long as I could stand for it to cool, before I grabbed a fistful. Truly, the word granola, the staid foil to flavored yogurt and fruit, should not be applied to this recipe. More accurate would be Insanely Addictive Snack, or Breakfast I Would Be Most Happy to Wake Up To. The sweet, salty pistachios compliments the exotic aroma of cardamom and cinnamon, with the rich, almost savory olive oil lending a rich depth. Really, just the fact that I'm going on about granola instead of cheese should clue you in to how good this is. Try it!

This Is What September Looks Like

Dancing in the Streets

This just in! Barrio is busy building a taco truck that will roam the streets of Saint Paul next summer. This excites me for so many reasons. In case you're the one person who's been spared my raving babble about this restaurant, let me tell you why this news is awesome.

If Barrio's taco truck menu is even distantly related to the restaurant's, we are in for some seriously tasty food. I was won over completely by the Barbecue Pork Sopes. Tender shredded pork, tangy and sweet, becomes a delicacy atop a crispy masa "boat." The guacamole is luscious and studded with delicious extras, sliced jalapeno and radish. And the tacos (ranging from skirt steak to mahi-mahi) are perfectly paired with an appropriately zippy or creamy salsa. If only I could sidle up to Barrio's truck and order a margarita...

Do you know of any other street food in Saint Paul? Or Minneapolis, for that matter? I'm all for it and would love to know of any treats I may be missing.

Image above from the Marfa Food Shark.

Sweet Basil Experiment

Last week, when faced with a lavish abundance of basil thanks to a friend, I made ice cream. You heard me. I didn't whip up some pesto or sprinkle slivers over a tomato salad-- I made basil infused ice cream. It just felt right. Was this the exact moment that I reached summer's zenith? I wonder now, had I really had enough of all the typical (but no less fabulous) uses of my favorite summertime herb? Or was I just dying to try this particular recipe? It was a little bit of both.

The Sweet Life: Desserts from Chanterelle is definitely not an everyday cookbook, yet I find myself dreamily thumbing through its pages a few times a month. The recipes are rooted in traditional French pastry techniques, making them lofty and elegant, but the ingredients and the presentation lend a softer side. Looking at the table of contents, I want to crawl inside the pages and nibble on the Whipped Brown Butter and Vanilla Birthday Cake or dip a spoon in the Chocolate Caramel Pot de Creme. The photographs are gorgeous and refined, but the accompanying recipes are incredibly detailed and offer lots of sidebars with extra tips. I've tried my hand at The Sweet Life's tarts and truffles, but never the ice cream until last week. With my large bundle of freshly harvested basil-- so pungent and heady and ripe-- I had nothing to lose. And I was up for an experiment.

The ingredients are simple: basil leaves, cream/milk, sugar, eggs. And a pinch of salt.


The first step is to infuse the cream and milk with the basil. This recipe called for 30 basil leaves, simmered in the cream and sugar for 10 minutes.


Next come the egg yolks. Lots of them.

Too many, in fact. For some, the rich, custard flavor that comes from using 8 egg yolks could be a welcome thing. For me, it was just a little bit too much. To finish the recipe, the beaten yolks are slowly whisked into the hot cream and cooked over medium heat to make a creme anglaise, which is then chilled in an ice cream maker.

In the finished ice cream, the basil shone through in a very pleasing, unexpectedly delicate way. The cold temperature mellows the flavor and eliminates the perfume. What's left is a smooth, velvety custard with a light, herbaceous flavor. Although basil is a recognizable note, it doesn't compete with the rich cream flavor base. I paired the ice cream with sliced strawberries and angel food cake the first time around, but the basil flavor was overpowered by this combination. I think its best, and most delicious, all by itself. And totally worth the experiment.