Category Archives: Food & Recipes

Happy Thanksgiving

I became a believer in Robin Hood and Tenderflake today.

Not that I was ever really on the fence on this, but wow, never has a better pie emerged from those two basics (flour and lard) supported by modest contributions by vinegar, water, salt, and a barnyard egg.

But I digress. Kathy baked a pie today. This pie:

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…made with ingredients brought with love from Canada throughout the year by visiting family:

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When we cook, uncork a bottle of wine, set a table, and enjoy a meal, we are thankful.

Thankful for a food supply chain that begins in the field and manifests at our bountiful markets. Thankful for family, friendships and each other. Thankful for a kitchen, good tools, the senses of sight, smell and taste… and hearing minced garlic hit hot olive oil in the saute pan… and discerning temperatures and textures on the tongue.

Thankful for every blessing large and small, and thankful for the holidays that are our reward for another year lived (and all of what that means).

Happy Thanksgiving… and if you’re still interested in the topic of food after today’s feast, I highly recommend the following:

(BTW, it’s best to pull the dough together to step 5 below, and then set the wrapped dough in the fridge while you prepare the apple mixture. Then remove the chilled dough from the fridge, set the oven to 400 degrees to preheat and then roll out the dough.)

Pie Crust

  • 5 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 tsp salt
  • 1 lb. Tenderflake (non-hydrogenated lard)
  • 1 tbsp vinegar
  • 1 egg, lightly beaten
  • cold, fresh water
  1. Mix the flour and salt together
  2. Cut in the lard with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse oatmeal
  3. Combine vinegar and egg in a measuring cup, adding water to complete a full cup
  4. Stir the liquid into the flour/salt/lard mixture — just enough to make the dough cling together
  5. Gather into a ball and divide into 6 portions (wrap whatever you don’t use in plastic wrap and freeze)
  6. Roll out each portion on a lightly floured surface
  7. Transfer dough to pie plate. Trim and add the filling of your choice. Here was our choice today…

Pie Filling for Apple Pie

  • 6 crisp apples (8 if they’re puny)
  • 1 T. lemon juice
  • 2 T. unsalted butter, melted (if all you have is salted, for heaven’s sake, don’t let this stop you)
  • 1/4 c. firmly packed brown sugar
  • 1.5 t. ground cinnamon
  • 1.8 t. nutmeg
  • 1 large egg beaten with
  • 2 T. heavy cream
  • 1 T. white sugar mixed with 1.5 t. cinnamon

Peel, halve, and core the apples, then slice 1/4″ thick. In a large bowl, combine the apples, lemon juice, melted butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. (If the apples are particularly juicy, slip in 1 T. cornstarch when no one is looking.) Stir until blended, then roll out the dough for the pie base and upper crust and lay the bottom crust in the pan.

Give the apples another stir, then spoon the mixture into the crust and smooth them into an even layer. Position the top crust over the filling, trim and flute. Without brushing the fluted edge, brush the top of the pie with the egg mixture, then sprinkle with the cinnamon sugar. (You won’t use all the egg goop.) Cut pretty steam vents in the top crust. Go nuts. Cut ’em in any pattern that makes you feel thin and like Martha Stewart.

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Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 degrees and cook until the top crust is lightly browned, the apple filling is bubbling, and the apples are tender when tested with a sharp knife through the slit in the crust (about 40-45 minutes).

Then, just for how thankful it will make you feel, about an hour before dinner, cut two smallish pieces of pie, adorn with a few shavings of your favorite *cheese, pour a couple of lovely Old Fashioneds, break out the cribbage board, and eat your dessert first for a change.

*Yes, cheese! The sharper the cheddar, the better, ’cause you know how the old Canadian saying goes: “Apple pie without a cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze!” (Bet you didn’t know Canadians were so poetic, or such culinary innovators, didja?)

From Farm To Table: Newark Farmer’s Market

For some, the trip to the Newark, CA, farmers market is the boring chore between Cheerios and soccer practice.

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For Rick and me, it’s a delightful stroll in the sunshine as we plan the upcoming week’s culinary adventures. We buy ridiculously inexpensive, local, in-season produce directly from the people who grow it.

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They’re proud of their harvest and can’t wait to share a sample or answer a question.

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Much of the food we encounter is as familiar as it is fabulous.

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He says the fat ones are better for juicing.

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No doubt.

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The nectarines last week were unbelievable…

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… and if you looked closely, you could see the chardonnay drops just waiting to bust out of their golden little cocoons.

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Many of the foods, I’m delighted to say, are still a mystery…

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… and some are downright frightening. What does one do with a an over-achieving cucumber with an attitude problem?

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You ask a fellow shopper who looks like she knows her way around gnarly tubers. (At a different stall, we learned the spikey ones are called “bitter melons” and are great in a Philippino stir fry with pork and fish sauce.)

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Even the music is simply delicious. The Squeaks were sweet, suitably volumed…

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… and attracted an audience that was as cutie-pa-tootie as they were themselves.

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There are flowers to grace our table,

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… fresh fish to stare down..

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… and no end to exotic sauces, bolini wraps, honey-in-the-comb, hot food vendors, bakers, and artisans of all sorts.

And it’s there every Sunday, rain or shine, all year long, 12 minutes down the road from our home, which is why last week we bought these.

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Gotta go now. We’ve got some serious shopping, chopping, and noshing ahead of us this week!

Scratching A Hungry Itch

Quick, on your buzzers:

What does this man do for a living?

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Nope.

This is Will. Last September, Will and Jessica opened the Scratch restaurant…

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… here …

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… (in Victor, Idaho, to be precise), and they make the best dang…

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… and …

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… on the planet.

This is only appropriate, since Jessica and Will care about the planet and are committed to sustainable restaurant practices. They buy local when possible, box your leftovers in compostable containers, and serve meat that was more or less happy when slaughtered. (Hey, we all have our down days.)

They’re also committed to me sustaining my need for my fat jeans.

The food is both ridiculously delicious and inexpensive: think “French bistro” with all the butter and none of the ‘tude.

We went for dinner the first night, and then back for breakfast the next morning.  The only thing stopping us from going back for lunch that day was the fear they’d think we were stalking them.

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The restaurant is teeny, clean, and sweet…

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… and just ask Jessica how big the portions are.

Once you decide what you want…

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… you can sit at the counter and watch them do this,

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… and this. They laugh a lot for a couple who work 16-hour days.

I should have taken a photo of the perfectly spiced, exquisitely textured buffalo wings I had the first night for dinner, but by the time it occurred to me, all that was left was this.

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Sorry.  I’ll just have to go back and try for some dinner shots again tomorrow.  Or maybe tonight.

Roasted Chicken

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Culinary Disclaimer from Kathy: I once publicly declared (several times, actually) the ambition to write a cookbook called “21 Ways With Taco Chips.” Interventions ensued. Many well meaning friends explained slowly, in small words, that while Canadians might call those little corn, oil, water and salt triangles of crunchy carbo-goodness “taco chips,” here in the land of their origin, they were referred to as “tortilla chips.” Whatever. They missed the point, and the day they taught geography in school.

My point was that there is a difference between entertaining and hospitality. The goal of entertainers is to impress. The goal of hospitality is to hospitalize.

Wait… that’s not right. Whatever. I’m missing my point.

My point is that I want a kitchen filled with enough basics that if friends call and say, “We’re coming for lunch. Break out the P, B and J,” we have enough bread or bread-like substitutes (taco chips!), cheese, and wine to fill up their bellies while their laughter fills up our house. It’s a great deal all round.

So we cook simple meals, “bistro style.” Rick educates me that this means serving high quality ingredients, minimally altered. See why we’re so compatible? What could be more minimally altered than taco chips covered with cheese and nuked for 30 seconds, served with good cheap California chardonnay? Or his ridiculously delicious Roasted Poulet a la Peppin?

Roasted Chicken

  1. Preheat an oven to 425°
  2. Rub olive oil on the bird and sprinkle with salt and pepper, inside and out
  3. Stuff ‘er loosely with rough-chopped onion, celery and lemon wedges. Parsley or thyme too if available
  4. I saw Jacques Pepin truss a chicken on PBS one Saturday morning, and I’ve been trying to truss like Jacques ever since. Makes for even cooking and a nice presentation
  5. On the stove top, brown the bird on one side and then the other for 2-3 minutes each side
  6. Pop ‘er in the oven and roast on one side for 20 minutes, turn and repeat on the other side for 20 minutes, and finally finish cooking on its back (breast side up) until done
  7. The chicken is done when a quick-read thermometer in the thigh reads 165°- 170° (the bird will reach its final temp of 180° while resting)
  8. We love a good pan sauce with this dish — stay tuned for how we pull that part together in a future post

Griddle Girl Rides Again

I have rediscovered the joys of making pancakes. It’s been a while, but I’m back in the griddle.

Part of it is that I have the right equipment. The new cast iron scorcher and I have finally reached detente: I have agreed not to overheat its saucy bottom, and it has signed up for the breakfast “catch and release” program. Between a compliant cooking surface, the sturdy flipper, and enough cooling racks, I had all I needed but the motivation.

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The San Jose Mercury News was the unlikely source of inspiration. They ran an article citing a panel of pancake experts, and I quothe: “Use real butter, real maple syrup, and don’t beat the batter too much.” How can you not be attracted to a food item so simple that a panel of experts couldn’t find anything to fight about?

The article also included a multi-batch recipe for straight-up pancakes. Mix the dry ingredients in a big bucket and store in the cupboard. When the maple muse strikes, pull out three cups, add eggs, milk and a little melted butter, and voila! You’ll be flapping these jacks before you know it.

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What I Learned From Bill Williamson

The Williamsons make and share some very fine wine in lovely Healdsburg, California.

Plus, Bill Williamson knows more about the inside of my mouth than my dentist or I do. This is both disturbing and a real shame. However, as a result of a ridiculously informative, hilarious, and occasionally out-of-control tutorial on the landscape of my taste buddies, I am rapidly catching up.
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What I learned from Bill:

1. Wine changes stuff.

Of course, I already knew this, but in a more limited sense. For example, I already knew that wine can change a Canaan wedding from another unmemorable event to “Honey, bring that empty wine skin! Vinny just uncorked the GOOD stuff!” It can change how good I sound when I sing, or my ability (and desire) to count calories. It can transform a train ride from just a way to get from east to west, to a life-long memory of drinking champagne out of paper cups.

Bill enlightened.

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Wine changes the flavors you can find in food. Honestly, there is bliss for your taste buds in Irish cheddar you never even knew existed. I’m not going to explain it all here, mostly because Bill is downright effusive in his generosity.

He says at the outset of the pairing experience, “If you want more of anything, just ask.” And darn it, as the time ticks by, you realize he means exactly what he says. Having a great time? Really enjoying that particular wine and want just one more chance to try it with the truffle oil salt against the Parmesan cheese? If you have that look on your face and your glass is empty… Poof! A lovely winery elf, Mrs. Williamson, appears with extra splashes for all. They made me feel like I was a dear old friend over for dinner after a few years absence. They also made me feel like I should just surrender to the moment and not worry about taking notes.
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And this is why I won’t try to explain how Bill made Williamson chocolate give up a more serious hit of cocoa than you would believe possible: the Lovely Winery Elf visited our table frequently, and I can’t remember much that Bill said, except for Number 2 below.

2. There is no such thing as the right wine for the right food. Every wine is distinct. Therefore, each wine will bring a slightly different something to any food you put in your mouth at the same time. The only thing required of you is to close your eyes and chew. Do this with Bill’s magnificent Cabernet Sauvignon, and you end up awash in a delicious existential understanding that there’s not one thing more important you need to be doing right now. Of course, as I have learned in cooking, this “pairing freedom” still leaves a wide open window to the possibility of putting two very good ideas in isolation into a very bad relationship, like the honey-and-mustard sandwiches my sister made as a kid, for instance.

So there are a couple of rules, after all.

Bill made it easy. He explained in simple terms how to think about wine varietals with families of food flavors, and then gave ample samples of both so you get the point. I won’t illuminate further. See #1 above.

Maybe the final thing Bill taught me was the most important, and better caught than taught. You’ll just have to go see for yourself.

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3. It’s possible to do what you love.