Weekly Dish

Is it Thanksgiving already? Are you sure? Well. I’d better get busy. It’s the first Thanksgiving for the little one, and I’d hate for her to look back through the Weekly Dish archives the year of her birth and see that I posted not one holiday recipe for her first food-obsessed holiday. Not that I’ll be cooking for her exactly, as her repertoire of food experiences includes only avocado, sweet potato, and banana so far. But I am planning to make a butternut squash pudding, reserving some of the roasted flesh for her to sample, so that counts for something. Her first Thanksgiving vegetable perhaps.

I guess with a baby around, it’s inevitable that a person becomes obsessed with firsts. Nearly everything is a first for Josie — just in the last month, she’s grown her first teeth, sat up by herself for the first time, tasted her first solid food. I know, I know, all of you who don’t have a baby are rolling your eyes right now. I know because I used to do the same thing — who wants to hear about someone else’s baby’s first teeth, anyway? It happens. Babies get teeth. And they have to sit up some time, so there inevitably must be a first time. Yawn. I swore I wouldn’t be one of those moms who oohed and aahed over her kid’s various universal — and therefore terribly mundane — developmental accomplishments to folks who could care less, so I won’t bore you with the details.

And yet. I have to just say that it is incredibly amazing to watch a tiny little person discover something utterly new. Do you remember the last time you discovered something really, truly new to you? It doesn’t happen that often in our adult lives, but for infants, virtually everything is a miraculous introduction to the world from a new vantage point. Even just the sound of her own voice takes on monumentally delightful proportions when she learns how to vary the pitch, volume, or use of spit to make new squeals, sputters, or growls.

Partly because of the sheer delight she takes in all things new and partly because I am particularly fond of the holidays, I am trying to make a special effort to establish celebratory traditions for our family this year. And, of course, a good deal of what makes a celebratory tradition in my definition of the term is food.

I know my posting this last year has been sporadic, but over the coming week, I hope to share with you the food I am making for Thanksgiving. (Maybe even every day, but I won’t make any promises.) Some recipes will be old, some will be new, some will be a combination. We are traveling to Mississippi to celebrate the holiday with our family, so I have plans to spend the next several days preparing my culinary contributions, recording them here as I go.

As I get my Thanksgiving dishes ready, of course I’ll need something to snack on as I cook. I’ve made this dip for a couple of years now around this time of year, and for whatever reason, I’m just now getting around to sharing it. Probably because it’s one of those things I seem to make at the last minute, when we need an appetizer to take to a Halloween party or a neighborhood art show or to a last-minute fall dinner with friends, and I never quite seem to get proportions written down or photos taken. Finally, though, I’ve tinkered with the recipe and taken exact measurements (and even a photo!). If you are buying canned pumpkin for a pie or some other Thanksgiving dish, I highly recommend saving one for this snack — it’s easy, tasty, and looks pretty on the table. Plus, it’s nicely suited to stand up equally well to a platter of carrot sticks and radish slices as it is just plain-Jane crackers. Or, if you’re feeling especially holiday-decadent, David likes it with the hottest variety of Zapp’s potato chips (but don’t you dare take that shiny metallic chip bag to Thanksgiving dinner; I do not want to be blamed for treading on what may be the most sacrosant of all food-related occasions, at least in this country. Turkey every, single year? That, my friends, is one heck of a stubborn tradition.)

So, here we go, kicking off Josie’s first-ever week-before Thanksgiving cooking extravaganza. She may not understand exactly what’s going on, and experts say that she won’t really remember. But just in case, I want the scents and sounds and sights of the holidays to be forever tinted with a joyful flurry of kitchen activity. From the very beginning.

Since I missed posting on her first Halloween, here’s a photo to make up for it. She was a happy pink leopard who growled at all the other trick-or-treaters. And we took this dip to the Gatewoods’, our dear friends, for a pre-trick-or-treating cook out. It was almost as big a hit as the pink leopard.

Spiced Pumpkin Dip

This is a highly adaptable recipe, one in which the proportions can be varied widely. I have made it with twice as much cream cheese and half as much pumpkin, and vice versa, mostly depending on how much leftover pumpkin I had on hand. After several tries, this is my favorite ratio, both for flavor and texture, but if you have a crowd to feed with this dip, you can certainly increase the cream cheese to use a whole package. I also like it to have quite a punch in terms of spices, but if the amounts of paprika and cumin seem like a lot to you, start with one teaspoon of each and add as you see fit.

1 head of garlic
olive oil
1 15-ounce can pumpkin puree
4 ounces cream cheese
2 t. ground cumin
2 t. Hungarian paprika
1/4 t. cayenne pepper
2 t. coarse salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and set your cream cheese on the counter to soften. Slice off the top of the garlic head and remove the loosest layers of the papery skin (you don’t need to peel it entirely — just get rid of the stuff that comes off easily). Place the whole head on a square of aluminum foil and bring the edges up all around to make a little pouch. Before twisting the top to seal it closed, drizzle the garlic with a little olive oil (about a teaspoon). Roast for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and open the foil pouch to let the garlic cool.

When cool enough to handle, squeeze the cloves from their skins into the bowl of a food processor. Add the remaining ingredients and process until very smooth. Taste for salt and spice — you may need to add a little extra. Sprinkle the finished dip with extra paprika for garnish. Serve with crudites, pita chips, or crackers. Or, if you’re feeling especially indulgent, Zapp’s potato chips.

That’s about the extent of what I had on hand one day last week when I set about trying to rustle up some sort of afternoon snack to tide me over until dinner.

It had been one of those proverbial days. Starting at about 3 a.m., Josie had decided to have a little party in her crib. She does this occasionally — wakes up happy and talking and usually puts herself back to sleep — and this particular middle-of-the-night affair sounded like it would be no different. But, what began with sweet-sounding coos gradually escalated to all-out screams. Not crying screams, mind you; the child was still gleefully happy. But we live in a very small two-bedroom house, and at 3 in the morning, that kind of volume carries quite an eye-opening kick. I was convinced that I would find at least two or three more babies in the bed with her contributing to the noise level when I walked into her room. Whatever she was so delighted about she was determined to share with her parents, and it took a joint effort of feeding, rocking, and walking around from the two of us to calm her down and get her to go back to sleep, only to be awakened by her again by 5:30. At this point, it was clear she was ready to be up for good.

From there, the day tumbled into the sort of managed chaos that life with an infant sometimes is: it happened to be Wednesday, when David is gone from 10 in the morning until 10 at night; Josie, after her early-morning performance spent the rest of the day in and out of the exhausted fussing that always follows an out-of-the-ordinary night; and I spent the entire day grading one student’s paper. Josie took no naps to speak of, and when I finally put a grade at the end of the essay response I had been composing since 7 that morning, it felt like quite an accomplishment.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around, she and I were both tired and cranky, and, since she had needed more attention than usual, I could barely remember what I’d had to eat and was starving. The prospect of waiting until David returned for dinner seemed unimaginable, but I still needed something to get me through the next few hours until Josie would (hopefully) go to bed.

When it comes to dinner, I am good at planning, mostly because I’ve been in the habit for so long now. As those of you who remember my marker board posts know, I make a meal plan on Saturday mornings after we get home from the Farmer’s Market, we go to the grocery store for whatever else we need, and the marker board on the side of the fridge tells me what to make every night for the rest of the week. Before I had Josie, the rest of our eating just sort of happened; I kept cereal or oatmeal for breakfast, and we’d either have leftovers or grab something on campus for lunch. Snacks weren’t on my radar at all, save a piece of fruit here and there or the occasional bag of potato chips David would sometimes bring home.

Providing all of the nutrients for a whole other being has, predictably, changed my appetite, and if I thought I was hungry when I was pregnant, that was nothing compared to what my body demands now that I am nursing. It’s not that I eat that much more, in terms of quantity, but I certainly have to eat more often, which translates into having more food choices on hand. Some weeks I do better about remembering to think about snacks than others, but we’re in a seasonal fruit lull right now, which is my usual between-meal sustenance when there’s nothing else. I am also, of course, trying to be conscious of the nutritive value of everything I consume; making the most of my calorie intake was obviously important when I was growing Josie inside my body, but now that I can actually watch her little body become healthy and strong, I am even more aware of how significant the food I take in really is. That may sound stressful, but it isn’t something I spend a lot of time worrying about, I just try to make good food decisions.

On the particular day I found that can of beans in my pantry, though, I have to tell you that I think I might have consumed almost anything I had found that was readily available to be eaten. We are not in the habit of buying pre-packaged junk food, and it’s a good thing, because if, somewhere in the depths of my kitchen shelves, I’d stumbled across a box of Hostess cupcakes, I might well have eaten the whole box in one sitting.

Instead, Josie and I marched out the back door, gathered enough basil for a quick batch of pesto, and I made some semblance of this bean dip, tossing a few other ingredients into the food processor in the precious few moments I had between feedings, diaper changes, and entertaining an off-schedule, fussy baby. Perhaps it was the sheer force of my growling stomach, or maybe it was the fact that Josie sat happily in her little green seat outside for a full 30 minutes while I ate and relaxed for the first time all day, or it’s possible that I was so grateful for a stretch of time to actually savor, rather than inhale, my food. Whatever the reason, if you’d asked me at that specific moment, I would have told you this dip was the best snack I’d ever tasted.

Since that day, I’ve made the dip twice more, taking the time to actually measure the quantities and photograph it, and, although, I can’t say that it tasted quite as good as it did on that first day (thankfully, I haven’t had another one of those days!) it’s provided many an afternoon of a healthful, filling snack, smeared on whole wheat crackers, or as a dip for carrots or radishes. We’ve also spread it on our sandwiches and used it as a quesadilla filling. I love the fact that it’s creaminess comes from something healthful and protein-laden, and I can see endless possibilities for what you could use to flavor the white bean base. For now, though, I’m planning to stick with my original impulse, at least until the basil sends out its last fragrant green leaves of the season.

This recipe certainly is not earth-shattering in its inventiveness, and I’m sure it’s not terribly original, but these are days of creative utilitarianism around our house, and in the capacity of healthy, hearty snack food, this is a dip that does its job.

At the end of the day this dip first made its way out of the pantry and into my stomach, Josie went peacefully to sleep, dinner somehow got made, and I eventually got to climb into my bed and close my eyes. And, as a happy surprise, when I laid my head on the pillow and asked myself the question all mothers of small children must ask at the end of harrowing days — “Now, what, exactly did I do today?” — this bean dip came to mind. A small victory, yes, but a tasty one. And just in case one of those days happens along your path in the near future, a victory I gladly pass along.

White Bean Pesto Dip

1 15-ounce can cannelini beans, drained
2 cloves garlic
2 T. prepared basil pesto
1 T. olive oil
Juice of half a lemon
1/2 t. sea salt

Pulse the garlic in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Add everything else and process until well-mixed but still chunky.

Because my daughter’s arrival coincided with the end of the semester (literally—I gave my final exam in the morning and went into labor that evening), I didn’t have much of a chance to wind down as I usually do, throwing myself into the kitchen and cooking furiously, in celebration of the time to do so.

No, instead, I started off my summer break with a newborn, not exactly prime conditions for having huge blocks of time to spend dawdling in the kitchen as I so pleased. But sweet little Josie did enter this world going to bed at a reasonable hour and staying asleep for a good while, which meant that once we got her to sleep, I could prepare dinner undisturbed. Not that I had a lot of energy for dinner, especially in those first few weeks, but I did itch to do something productive besides feed a baby.

So, I turned to the Farmer’s Market for inspiration and set about thinking how to accommodate our new schedule — what could be started early in the day or the night before and finished without too much time and effort after the baby was asleep? Well, salad, for starters.

And, salad worked so well that we have eaten an awful lot of it since Josie’s been in our life. I have a few basic combinations that I tweak here and there depending on what we have lying around. But since I had promised myself I’d try at least one new thing in the kitchen each week, I needed a significant variation on our old green stand-by. Shrimp are abundant and relatively inexpensive at our market this time of year, so we buy them fairly regularly. The little ones we ended up with a few weeks ago were begging to land atop some greens, so I boiled them and marinated them a day ahead of time to make easy work of assembling dinner the next night.

The idea for the marinade comes from Sara Foster, who calls these “Pickled Shrimp” because of the spice combination used to flavor them. Reminiscent of bread and butter pickles, the tangy-sweet marinade doubled as a dressing for our shrimp-topped salad. Next time, I’ll reduce the amount of sugar and marinate some vegetables along with the shrimp for an even quicker and healthier dinner assembly.

Now that I’ve gotten into the cooking groove, if I could only find some time to write about the things I make, then it wouldn’t take me 3 weeks to compose one post. At least I am finally planning our menus again (as you can see below); funny how the little things at this point seem like such big accomplishments!

What does help me to be motivated, I have to say, is all the encouragement from you sweet people who read this blog. It means much to me that after my long silences, some of you still return with heartwarming well wishes for me and my family. Especially for your kind words about Josie, I thank you.

Shrimp Scampi

Steak and cheese sandwiches

(recipe for shrimp after the jump)

(more…)

Well, if the answer is yes, then you have preparations to make, don’t you? While I can’t help with what you should wear, if you happen to have minimal time to whip up something festive to set on the food table, I can share this recipe.

The story of this dip is fairly representative of the way things happen in my kitchen, especially when the food is actually for an event (and not just for us to eat).

First, I spend entirely too much time deciding what to bring. Next, I spend the day of the party doing everything except preparing the dish I’m supposed to bring. Or even deciding what to bring. Then, at the last minute, I run into the kitchen, have an idea, send David dashing to the store, and he comes back with a collection of ingredients that I use to improvise a recipe I should probably be following exactly (since I’ve never made it before and I’m serving it to lots of people).

In this particular case, the idea came from The Barefoot Contessa. I originally planned to make Ina’s sundried tomato dip to take to our department holiday party on Friday. (In this case, “originally planned” means “decided on an hour before the party would start”). I sent David to the store, but I forgot to ask him to bring home cream cheese, and well, the dip is entirely based on cream cheese. And the recipe called for mayonnaise, the sight of which I cannot tolerate these days (so there is none in my fridge). So, I dug through what I did have, and the resulting sour cream, feta cheese, and sundried tomato dip was much better than I can imagine a cream cheese and mayonnaise version tasting.

One key to the flavor of the dip is salt, and how much you use will depend on a few things: first, how salty the feta is; second, what you’re planning to serve with the dip; and third, you’re preference for saltiness. David bought no-salt Zapp’s potato chips, and we had French feta cheese, which tends to be less salty than the American stuff (at least in my grocer’s cheese case) so I added a good bit of sea salt to the dip. With saltier chips and a stronger feta, the dip could have been way too salty. The cayenne pepper also gives it a nice kick, but again, you don’t want the spiciness to be overpowering. My best suggestion is to start with a palmful of salt and a pinch of pepper and then taste the final product with a chip or vegetable you’ll be using for serving; season until it tastes like you might stand there and eat the whole bowl before you leave for the party. (Then, stop, put it in a serving container and wrap tightly with plastic wrap! Hurry, you still have to get dressed!)

This recipe made enough to take in my chip and dip plate to the department party on Friday and to take over to my neighbor this afternoon for her holiday party tonight. Not bad for 10 minutes worth of preparation.

Sundried Tomato and Feta Dip

1 5-ounce jar of sundried tomatoes, packed in oil, drained
2-3 ounces feta cheese
1 cup sour cream
3 green onions, white and green parts, sliced
Sea salt, to taste
A pinch or two of cayenne pepper

In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the tomatoes a few times until coarsely chopped. Add the cheese, sour cream, green onions, salt and pepper. Pulse a few more times until thoroughly combined. Garnish with a sprinkle of green onions. Have a great time at the party!

One of the most satisfying holiday seasons I’ve had — at least in terms of making things — was the first Christmas after I’d started graduate school. I am a task-oriented person: I get great pleasure out of checking things off of a list, of seeing them finished. Unfortunately, graduate school is a place where many things stay on the to-do list for months and months. Books I want to read linger under the weight of things that have to be read for class, ideas I have for creative writing get lost in the flurry of academic research papers, and even the simple task of figuring out what I want to write about takes a very, very long time.

After a semester of this delayed gratification, I was more than thrilled to get into the kitchen, start a complicated project in the morning, and have it finished by the afternoon. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my cooking breaks, I am quite sure I would never, ever have completed a master’s thesis. The ho-hum activity of making dinner took on a new meaning: I would look at a pretty, delicious plate of food as I placed it on the table, and think, “See, I can accomplish something.”

Which is what eventually led me to writing this blog: the delight I gleaned from completed cooking projects I very much wanted from my writing. Now, when I read a finished post that I’ve had at least some time to compose thoughtfully, I feel like I can finish a piece of writing. And that feels good. It even motivates me to get back to work on the 25-page paper waiting on my desktop.

That first Christmas when I learned this about myself, my favorite project to complete were these truffles.

Now, I should warn you: these little gems do not come together in a couple of hours; making truffles is a process. It’s a process I love, especially during the holidays, at the end of a long semester, because you work on them for a bit and then you have an hour break to wrap presents, start another kitchen project, or sit down with a cup of tea and the paper you’ve been working on for weeks before you go on to the next step. And, the finished products are so pretty that by the time I’ve finished a whole batch, I really feel like I’ve accomplished something.

A little box of these makes a great hostess gift if you’re going to a party, or a lovely holiday happy to leave on a co-worker’s desk. I like to wrap them up in parchment paper and place them in a Chinese take-out box: a ribbon and a card, and they’re all set. You don’t want to leave them out if it’s warm, but in colder weather, I’ve found I can leave them in their packaging in my dark, cold laundry room until I’m ready to give them away.

Talk about a sense of accomplishment. When I’m rushing out the door to a holiday function, and I remember that I can open up my laundry room, pull out a gift that I made, and take it with me, I start to feel downright efficient. Unless, of course, I happen to glimpse the piles of laundry at my feet or the mess in the kitchen.

But, hey, a girl can only do so much, and I’ll take my victories when I can get them. Don’t forget to put away at least a few truffles for yourself: a bite of one of these chocolate treats and a hot cup of coffee is sweet victory indeed.

I should have posted these recipes a few weeks ago, when The Passionate Cook hosted a whole event dedicated to truffles, but that was the week of Thanksgiving, and I had too much else going on (but if you want to see a whole host of other truffle recipes, you can check out the round-up here).

This recipe gives endless possibilities: you can flavor the chocolate however you’d like and then proceed with appropriate coatings and decorations. The two versions pictured here, one almond and the other dark chocolate raspberry, get their subtle flavors from almond extract and raspberry liqueur respectively. I also usually make a plain dark chocolate one and coat it with white chocolate, and this year, I’m planning some peppermint ones, flavored with peppermint extract and rolled in crushed peppermint candy.

Chocolate Truffles

24 ounces semisweet chocolate (chocolate chips will work)
6 T. whole milk
6 egg yolks, beaten until pale yellow.
3/4 pound butter (3 sticks)

In the top of a double boiler, combine the chocolate and milk. Stir over medium heat until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove from heat, and add the egg yolks immediately, slowly streaming them into the melted chocolate, stirring constantly to keep the egg from solidifying immediately (you don’t want yellow flecks in your chocolate). Cut the butter into pieces, and stir it in until the mixture is shiny and smooth. At this point, you can divide the mixture into batches if you want to experiment with flavors, or use the whole batch to make the same kind of truffle.

For a flavored truffle, stir in one of the following*:
2 T. raspberry-flavored liqueur, like Framboise (Hershey also makes raspberry-flavored chocolate chips, which make a pretty good truffle)
1 T. almond extract (you can also add a spoonful of Amaretto if you have it)
1 T. peppermint extract
1 T. finely grated orange zest

*Depending on how many times you divide the chocolate, these quantities may need adjusting. Add and then taste to get the strength of flavor you want. 

Refrigerate the batches of chocolate for about an hour (you want the chocolate to be pliable enough to work with, but not so soft that it melts all over your hands). Form the chilled chocolate into small balls and place on wax paper-lined trays or cookie sheets. Now, if you aren’t going to coat the truffles in chocolate or white chocolate coating, you can roll them in crushed nuts, candies, or cocoa powder and be done. If you want the smooth, hard outer coating, you’ll need to refrigerate the formed balls for another half-hour or so.

To coat: melt candy coating in a glass bowl (I do it in the microwave). Dip each ball into the coating quickly with a spoon and place on wax paper to cool and harden. For drizzles, melt a different color coating and drizzle away (I used red food coloring and white chocolate coating to get the pink decoration above).

This recipe makes between 2 and 3 dozen truffles, depending on how big you make them.

. . .that’s exactly what John Folse, famous chef around these parts, said on his radio show this morning. I laughed as I thought about my own kitchen — his description certainly fit. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, I go into baking overdrive. For one thing, our old house is drafty, and keeping the oven on helps me stay warm. More importantly, though, the constant scent of something sweet permeates the house, reminding me and everyone else who enters that this is a season to celebrate.

The holidays were so much fun at my house growing up — my dad would take all of us out to cut an enormous tree, Mom would pull down the decorations, and I would revel in the sheer energy of always having something to celebrate.

As David and I have started our own holiday traditions, making treats to take to parties, to snack on, or to give away later, has become one of the constants. This handy little shortbread recipe has been used over and over during past months of December. I don’t know why I don’t make it during other times of the year, but I started taking it to holiday gatherings some years ago, and for whatever reason, it feels like a holiday recipe.

For one thing, it’s incredibly sweet and rich — not the kind of everyday dessert I usually make. For another, it cuts nicely into cute little squares, and makes an elegant package wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a ribbon. People seem to love it, and one recipe goes a pretty long way (unless you leave it sitting out on your counter for passersby to nibble on.)

This month will be full of recipes like this one. As I prepare for the holidays, dinner is usually the last thing on my mind: the 350-degree oven is usually on and baking something sweet.

I LOVE December. It’s a good thing that I’m such a holiday fanatic because I really don’t care that much for cold weather. The holidays keep my spirits up, even if I am grumbling just a bit about my ever-icy hands and nose. I know, I know, I would never survive in a less temperate climate. Or perhaps I would just bake more.

Caramel Nut Shortbread

For the crust:
2 sticks butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 t. almond extract
1 egg
2 3/4 cup flour
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a 15×10 jelly roll pan with parchment paper. In a food processor or mixer, combine the butter, sugar, salt, almond extract, egg and flour. Process until the dough starts to come together. Press into the jelly roll pan, halfway up the sides. Cover the dough and refrigerate for an hour. Prick it with a fork and bake for 10 minutes.

For the topping:
2 sticks butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup honey (or a combination of honey and maple syrup or cane syrup)
1/4 cup heavy cream
3-4 cups of nuts (I used half sliced almonds, half pecans this time, but whatever you have on hand will work)
Good salt, like fleur de sel (regular sea salt works too)
In a saucepan, combine the butter, sugar, brown sugar, and honey over medium to medium-low heat. Simmer (but don’t boil) until the sugar dissolves. Once you can’t detect any granules with your spoon, bring the mixture to a boil. Boil for 3 minutes without stirring, remove from the heat, and stir in the cream. Pour the mixture onto the baked crust, and sprinkle the nuts evenly on top. Bake for 10-12 minutes more. The mixture should be bubbly. Dot with a few grains of sea salt (I place them on one at a time. You don’t want the bars to be salty, just to add a hint of contrast every now and then). When cool, cut into small squares.
–adapted from Intercourses by Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge

Can I just say how much I love having access to the opinions and expertise of real people about food?

When my good friend Garland mentioned that she wanted to have a birthday cake for her one-year-old daughter, Wilhelmina, she wondered what such a cake would look like. Because of a history of family allergies, their doctor recommended waiting to give her dairy, wheat, nuts, egg whites, honey, or other potential allergens until at least her second year.

I volunteered to do some research about allergen-free baking, knowing just the cook to turn to. I found a recipe on Karina’s site that looked like it might work, especially since Wilhelmina loves bananas, but I needed to make some substitutions. Karina was on hand with helpful suggestions and answered all of my questions, and I’m happy to report that the cupcakes were a hit! Here’s the birthday girl holding hers:

The cakes were tender and sweet and perfectly banana-flavored, but the icing was a bit trickier. I made the Maple-Orange icing first because I thought it would taste good (and it did!), but it wasn’t thick enough to decorate with. In fact, it was the wrong consistency altogether, and it separated not too long into the party. I also concocted a faux buttercream with shortening instead of butter, and while it didn’t taste as good as the maple icing, it allowed me to make some pink bunnies, inspired by Wilhelmina’s favorite companion: her pink bunny blanket. Were I to make these again and not need the bunny decoration, I’d make a simple powdered sugar glaze with orange juice and maple syrup. Or, if I baked the batter as a cake instead, I’ll bet it a slice drizzled with just maple syrup and topped with sliced banana would hit the spot too.

Banana-Corn Cupcakes

1 1/4 cups wheat-free, gluten-free baking mix (the mix I used was part garbanzo bean flour, part rice flour, part baking powder, and part xanthan gum)
1 cup cornmeal
1/4 t. Kosher salt
3 egg yolks
2/3 cup vegetable or canola oil
1 3/4 cup brown sugar
3 very ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup rice milk (orange juice would work here too, I think)
2 t. vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a muffin tin with greased paper or aluminum baking cups.

Mix the baking mix, cornmeal, and salt together in a small bowl. In an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks with the oil and sugar until well-combined. Add the banana until well-incorporated. Add the dry ingredients alternately with the liquid until all is well-distributed. Stir in the vanilla. Divide the batter among the muffins cups (I had enough left to make a cake in a small loaf pan), and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

–Thanks to Karina, the Gluten Free Goddess, for the inspiring recipe and suggestions for modifying it!

Maple-Orange Icing

1 cup powdered sugar
1/2 T. vegetable shortening, or butter
a pinch of salt
1 T. orange juice
1/4 cup maple syrup
On high speed, beat the powdered sugar, shortening, salt, and juice on high. With the mixer running, pour in the maple syrup, until the icing is a spreadable consistency. This icing probably keeps better at room temperature; I refrigerated mine, and it separated. The shortening could have been the culprit there too…

–Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

For the bunnies:

Ice the cupcakes with a thin layer of the maple-orange or other sweet, flavorful icing. You’ll also need a recipe of pink buttercream-like frosting; any thick, pipe-able frosting will do. I put mine in a small zip-top plastic bag, sealed it tightly, and cut a tiny hole in one corner of the bottom of the bag, but if you have the right equipment, you won’t have to improvise. Then, pipe a small swirly circle for the rabbit’s head on each cupcake. For the ears, slice a banana into rounds, and then slice each round into fourths. One fourth makes a good-sized ear. For the eyes, I used dried cranberries cut into tiny specks, grated carrot for the nose, and coconut slivers for the whiskers.

Happy first birthday, Wilhelmina!

One lone sweet farmer — Buddy Miller — sells figs regularly at my local Saturday market. I see him every Saturday from late July/early August until his trees stop producing (probably any Saturday now) and I buy as many different kinds of figs as he has.

In their book on cooking with aphrodesiacs, here’s what Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge have to say about figs in the chapter on the fruit: “If you’ve never had a fig before, it will not — cannot– taste, smell, look, or feel as you imagined it would — because a ripe fig tastes sweeter than any dried nugget of trail-mix fig, and a plump one smells gentler than any hyper-syruped canned version. . . .When its juice runs over your tongue, you are drinking pure, unadulterated sensuality.”

It was only a few years ago that I first tasted for myself what they’re talking about. My taste buds still have not recovered; they often crave the sublime sweetness of these gorgeous little gems at the most random times. Last summer I tucked a few away in a freezer bag, and come January, when a craving hit, I was oh so glad. My freezer stash this summer has already begun.

A fig is a perfect fruit, in my opinion. The simplest of pleasures, figs win out for their blissful unfussiness. This fruit doesn’t need to be peeled, has no inedible seeds, and contains no pits or other obstructions to fool with. Some varieties are exactly bite-sized; most can be eaten in no more than two delicate bites. A tiny stem makes a good handle with which to hold your fig, and it tastes best eaten ripe and alone, or, on special occasions with the slightest dribble of cream. But it’s versatile also: the fig pairs well with cheese and wine, or cooks up to a mighty fine dessert or dinner.

I mostly eat mine straight from the fridge soon after they’ve been purchased. Occasionally, though, I’ll feel creative and want to dress them up. This appetizer is so simple, but it’s a great little before-dinner treat to serve to guests (especially if they’ve never had fresh figs before). Black Mission figs work really well for this preparation; they’re larger and firmer than some of the smaller, sweeter varieties. The filling tastes even better if you have time to mix it up the night before, but at least allow it to refrigerate for a couple of hours to let the flavors mingle. I like to serve these with a crisp Riesling, and if you’re going heavy on the hors d’oeuvres, shards of prosciutto and blue cheese on crostini.

In fact, these appetizers would make a great contribution to an al fresco dinner party, perhaps the La Festa Fresco that Ivonne and Lis are throwing? Stop in and see what other fresh, local outdoorsy foods other people made on September 5, when the round-up will be posted.

Creamy Stuffed Figs

4 ounces cream cheese, softened
4 strips bacon
1 T. chives, chopped, with a few reserved for garnish,
1/2 cup almonds or pecans
Cracked black pepper and Kosher salt, to taste
8 fresh figs

To prepare the filling, set the cream cheese in a small bowl to soften. Cook the bacon and set aside to cool. Then, toast the nuts (please, please do NOT skip this step — the toasted nuts add a lot of depth to the flavor of the filling) in a dry skillet or in a 350-degree oven for 6-8 minutes. When the bacon and nuts are cool enough to handle, coarsely chop, and add them to the cream cheese. Mix in the chives and seasonings. Refrigerate for at least a few hours.

To prepare the figs, first wash and pat dry. Remove the stems. With a small, sharp knife, carefully cut cross-wise into the top of each fig, as if you were quartering it, but making sure not to cut all the way through. Stuff each fig with about a tablespoon of the cream cheese mixture (or as much as the fig can hold and still stand up straight). You can refrigerate them again until ready to serve if you need to.

–Adapted from Intercourses by Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge

Well, if you have a log or two of goat cheese, herbs, olive oil, and some crackers, you can throw this together and look like you planned it all along.

My cousin had a party not too long ago, and her sister-in-law served something similar to this (and that, my non-southern friends is how recipes travel down here: my sister said she had such and such at a party and got the recipe from so and so, who got it from her aunt and so on…).

It was so pretty, I resolved to assemble it (it seems unfair to call this cooking) the next time we had people over. And so I did.

Besides how easy it is to do, the other great thing about this appetizer is that it can be assembled beforehand (and I think it tastes better after the herby flavor has had time to soak in). Just pull it out of the fridge up to an hour before you expect guests so it can soften, and you’re set. It’s the perfect thing to have with wine while you’re finishing up dinner.

What you need:
A long, thin, dish with a lip at the edges
Goat cheese (I used 2 4-ounce logs)
Good olive oil
Kosher or sea salt
Cracked black pepper
An assortment of herbs (I used lemon basil, rosemary, and Cuban oregano)
Crackers (We love the rosemary-olive oil Triscuits)

Up to a day before you want to serve it: Form the goat cheese into a long, thin log shape, and puncture the top with a fork several times. Drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt, black pepper, and minced herbs. Cover and refrigerate.

An hour before serving: Uncover and lay sprigs of fresh herbs all around the cheese. Drizzle the whole plate with more olive oil, salt, pepper, and finish by sprinkling with more minced herbs.

We are not wine connoisseurs, but if you’re looking for an inexpensive and mellow red wine, Foxy compliments the herbed goat cheese quite nicely.

(the last of the Oscar-night series, I promise)

For the main course of our Oscar-night dinner, David and I chose ribs, purely for the appropriateness of the name. I’d never cooked babyback ribs before, and to be honest, I’m usually not a huge barbecue fan. Sure, I like to eat it every now and then (and of course whenever I’m in Memphis), but it just isn’t something I crave.

So I wanted more than just a plain barbecue sauce for these. Traditionally, ribs are either dry or wet, meaning the flavor comes from a dry spice rub or from a sauce. I decided to combine these methods, cooking the ribs at a high temperature for a brief period of time after they’d been coated with the spices, and then covering with sauce to cook at the lower temperature. Most rib preparations take hours and hours; the cooking time for these was reduced to about an hour and a half.

The sauce is by far the best part about this recipe–I love the smoky flavor of the chipotle combined with the marmalade, garlic, and molasses; the spice rub added an extra layer of depth that was nice too. The salad is a simple early spring-time one I make a lot with strawberries and goat cheese; the ingredients follow the rib recipe.

Brokeback Ribs

2 1/2 pound slab of babyback ribs

Spice rub:
1 t. Kosher salt
1 t. brown sugar
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ground cloves
1/2 t. allspice
1/4 t. cayenne pepper

Sauce:
2 T. butter
4 cloves garlic
Zest and juice of one orange
2 T. cider vinegar
2 T. cane syrup or molasses
1/4 c. oyster sauce (hoisin sauce would work too)
1/4 c. chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
1/2 c. orange marmalade

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Cut the ribs into sections of 4, cutting close to the bone to separate. Mix the spice rub ingredients together. Rub the mixture evenly over the ribs on both sides. Arrange the ribs on a broiler pan or rimmed baking sheet, and slide into the oven. Bake for 8 minutes; turn them, and bake for 10 minutes more. Reduce the oven tempreature to 300 degrees.

Meanwhile, prepare the sauce. Melt the butter in a skillet over medium. Add the garlic and orange zest; cook until golden brown, about 4 minutes. Increase the heat to medium-high, and add the vinegar and the orange juice. Let it reduce for a few minutes, until some of the liquid has evaporated. Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the remaining ingredients, and let them cook until the mixture is thick and syrupy.

Pour the sauce evenly over the ribs and cover tightly with foil. Cook at 300 for about an hour (ours were done at this point, but you’ll need to check; you want to make sure that the meat is falling off the bone and that no pink remains). Because our sweet potatoes needed to cook at a high temperature for another few minutes, I uncovered the ribs and slid them into the oven too at 450 degrees. This step is probably not necessary, but it helps to seal the glaze, making the sauce into a dense, sticky coating, which we liked. Let the ribs rest for a few minutes after they’ve finished cooking.

I spent those minutes throwing together our Constant Garden Salad, which consisted of greens, strawberries, green onions, and goat cheese drizzled with basalmic vinegar, olive oil, honey, and salt.

Thanks to everyone who has patiently endured my Oscar dorkiness; it has been fun, but now it’s time to retire the tiara until next year. Until then, Good Night and Good Luck. (how could I resist?!)