Celeriac & Parsley Soup - a Soothing Recipe

Celery is believed to have originated in the Mediterranean, and it still grows wild there in wetter areas. Not the celery you’ll find in your Waldorf salad, that is, but a leafier, blossom-covered variety, sometimes known as smallage, whose seeds have long been used medicinally and as a flavoring agent.

Celery as we now know it was being eaten in France by the early 17th century, and celery root – or celeriac – showed up about the same time.

I love celeriac this time of year for its cooling, clean flavor. Grated raw for salads or simmered down into simple soups, it makes a soothing remedy for the excesses of the season. Here I add a generous amount of parsley, which belongs to the same family as celery and was believed by the ancient Greeks and Romans to prevent intoxication. Very useful indeed if you’re feeling a bit woozy from the previous night’s revels!

I like this soup with a dollop of Greek yogurt and a drizzle of good olive oil, but you can dress it up for company by swirling a little white truffle oil over each bowl instead. A few shavings of fresh truffle over the top would be exquisite, if you happen to have some about.


Serves 6

extra virgin olive oil
1 yellow onion, halved and sliced into half-moons
kosher salt
1 clove garlic, peeled and sliced
2 ½ lbs celery root, peeled and sliced no thicker than ½ inch slices
6 cups chicken stock
1 large bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley, rinsed well, stems trimmed
juice of 1 lemon
freshly ground black pepper

Heat a large pot over medium heat and add a glug of olive oil. Add the onion and sprinkle with salt. Sauté, stirring occasionally, until the onion is transluscent. Add the garlic and stir for another minute. Add the celery root slices and the chicken stock and bring to a simmer. Cover partially, reduce the heat to low, and simmer gently for 45 minutes or until the celery root is very tender.

Strain the soup into a large bowl and place the solids in a food processor. Add the parsley and pulse until a smooth purée forms – you may need to ladle in some of the cooking liquid to help along the process here.

Put the purée back in the cooking pot and ladle in the cooking liquid until the desired consistency is reached – you may want to use all the liquid, but go slowly just incase. Reheat the soup over medium-low heat, stirring often. Season with lemon juice, black pepper, and plenty of salt. Serve hot with yogurt and olive oil or truffle oil and truffle slices.

Wild Mushrooms with Sherry, Shallots, & Parsley - Setas

Setas, or wild mushrooms, are a tapas bar classic in Spain. The term refers to any mushrooms other than the cultivated white champiñón, and you should feel free to use whichever varieties look and smell the most fresh right now where you live. The dish has infinite possibilities depending on the time of year, and our markets here in New York still offer plenty of choices. This time I've used a mixture of oyster, shitake, and hen of the woods.

During wild mushroom season in Spain, setas would typically be prepared with cured ham, but I often omit the meat to keep the flavor lighter and cleaner. The shallots, garlic, sherry, and lemon meld to form an incredibly bright, earthy tang, making this one of my favorite cool weather tapas dishes. And setas also make a fantastic light supper over some toasted bread - especially paired with a glass of crisp white wine or fino.

Charlotte of The Great Big Vegetable Challenge is working on Q is for the Quick Vegetable Quest right now, and these are my contribution to the cause. If you visit her site, you'll find a list of vegetable recipes that take ten minutes or less to prepare. I clocked these setas at 9 minutes, by the way. Charlotte was just nominated for Best Food Blog (Family & Kids) by the Well Fed Network’s 2007 Food Blog Awards judges. Stop by to vote for all your favorite food blogs as often as you like anytime before 11:59pm on December 14th. Congratulations and best of luck to Charlotte and to all the other nominees.


Serves 6 as tapas

extra virgin olive oil
2 shallots, minced
kosher salt
1 clove garlic, minced
6 cups assorted mushrooms, brushed clean and torn into bite-size pieces
1/2 cup dry sherry
juice of one lemon
handful of parsley, roughly chopped
freshly ground black pepper
toasted or grilled bread for serving (optional)

Heat a large saucepan over medium heat. Add a glug of olive oil and the shallots. Sprinkle with salt and sauté until transluscent. Add the garlic and sauté, stirring often, for one more minute, Toss in the mushrooms and sprinkle with more salt to release their liquids. Sauté the mixture for 5 more minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat and add the sherry. Return to a high heat and cook until the liquid is gone. Toss in the lemon juice and parsley and sauté one minute more until the mushrooms begin to caramelize. Adjust the seasoning with more salt and freshly ground black pepper. Serve immediately.

Trummsbury Farm Christmas Trees

I’m always so pleased when farmers at the market share tips with me. After all, they not only know their crops better than anyone else could, but they also get to know each other’s products in a way no casual shopper ever can. So when Luke from the River Garden flower farm (whose flowers are by far the most fresh and extravagantly beautiful you’ll see at the city’s greenmarkets) told me that the best Christmas trees are brought to market from the Adirondacks by Trummsbury Tree Farm, I knew I would look no further.

There’s nothing worse than bringing home a Christmas tree and watching it dry up and droop before the holiday even arrives – who knows how long it’s been cut by the time it reaches the corner deli. And yes, our delis sell Christmas trees in New York! But this morning, when my husband and I went to choose one from the Trummsbury stand in Union Square, some of the trees still had a powdery snow frozen in their branches.

The fragrance and variety were magnificent: Frasers and Douglases stood in towering rows along with rarer species I didn’t know. One in particular had needles that smelled of oranges when we crushed them in our hands. You must tell me if you know what kind of tree that was.


We chose a particularly bushy Douglas – I have a penchant for chubby Christmas trees – and, as my husband headed for the subway, Kevin of Trummsbury Farm gave me some sage advice for keeping the tree alive as long as possible. His directions were utter simplicity:

1) Use room temperature water – warm water and cold water are both going to turn room temperature in a few minutes anyway.
2) Water the tree copiously during its first few days at home – that’s when it drinks the most. Afterwards, make sure it has plenty of fresh water so it can drink whatever it needs.
3) Keep the tree next to an open window or a cool mist humidifier – heating dries it out.

That’s it! No sugar water, no 7 UP, nothing. And the Trummsbury Tree Farm makes it a point to plant more trees than they cut, so supporting them helps the environment too. They can be found at the Union Square Greenmarket on Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays, they also sell fresh wreaths, swags, and garland, and they deliver for free.

Tonight our home finally smells like Christmas. Happy tree hunting!

Fig & Apricot Orange Cake with Spiced Wine Syrup for St. Nicholas’s Day

Tomorrow December 6th is St. Nicholas’s Day. In Greece, St. Nicholas (or St. Nikolaos) does not bear gifts – rather he is the patron saint of sailors, travelers, and children – particularly orphans. In that region, he’s often depicted fresh from another ship rescue, drenched in seawater and covered with seaweed.

In fact traditionally, Christmas in Greece is not the apex of celebration that it is in English-speaking cultures. Instead, the day is marked with religious services and a feast to end a 40-day Lent. The real flurry of preparation, and gift shopping occurs in the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. That’s when homes are decorated, presents are wrapped, bonfires are lit, and when more Westernized homes put up their Christmas tree. And it’s St. Basil who brings the gifts to open on New Year’s Day.

But St. Nicholas’s feast day is still a joyous occasion that’s happily anticipated by children across the country for its name-day parties. Nicholas is a popular name, and any child named in the saint’s honor is celebrated with something akin to a birthday party.

The rounds made from house to house can become Bacchanalian for young and old alike. Adults are served brandy, wine, and seasonal sweets – somewhat grueling when you consider how many Nicholas’s they may have to visit. This cake, scented with the season’s fresh oranges, studded with the region’s walnuts, dried grapes, figs, and apricots, and drizzled with fragrant spiced wine syrup, is just the sort of thing you might be served.

This is a traditional preparation, but it’s just as often seasoned with the Greeks’ beloved mastic as with cinnamon and cloves, and you should feel free to experiment if you have any handy. The olive oil adds an unexpected fruity punch, and I think you’ll agree that this is a delightfully Mediterranean twist on the classic Christmas fruitcakes we prepare in the States and Britain. This one’s better the next day, which makes it perfect for the feast tomorrow. Happy St. Nicholas’s Day!


olive oil
3 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup almond flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 large pinch kosher salt
1 ½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground cloves
2 ½ tbsp orange zest
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 ½ cups orange juice (preferably freshly squeezed)
½ cup brandy
½ cup coarsely chopped walnuts
½ cup black raisins
½ cup chopped dried figs
½ cup chopped dried apricots
2 cups red wine
1 cup granulated sugar
4 whole cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
1 star anise pod
zest of 1 orange
zest of 1 lemon
confectioner's sugar for dusting
extra orange zest for serving, in narrow strips

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Brush a deep loaf pan with olive oil and line with parchment paper that comes up out of the sides of the pan by at least 2 inches.

Sift together the flour, almond flour, baking powder, baking soda, kosher salt, cinnamon, and cloves. Sprinkle in the orange zest and stir to distribute evenly.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the olive oil and sugar. Add to the dry ingredients with the orange juice and brandy and stir until only just combined. Add the walnuts and dried fruit and stir briefly to combine.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan, place the loaf pan onto a sheet pan to protect your oven against overflow, and bake in the center of the oven for 1 hour to 1 hour and 20 minutes, or until a wooden skewer comes out of the center almost clean.

Meanwhile, make the spiced wine syrup. In a medium pan, combine the wine, sugar, spices, and citrus zest. Place over low heat and stir until the sugar’s dissolved. Simmer over low heat until the liquid is reduced by half. Strain and reserve.

Cool the cake on a rack for at least 30 minutes before removing from its pan. Just before serving, dust with confectioner's sugar through a sieve. Slice and serve drizzled with warm wine syrup and topped with a few slivers of orange zest.

The December Harvest Calendar

It’s funny how the excitement of a December farmer’s market can match the height of the harvest in August or September. The sun shines low and pale now, and it’s gone altogether by 4:30. And the vibrant colors of late summer and early autumn have been replaced by the staid deep green of kale and collard, the quiet buff of parsnips, and the often-drab pods of fully matured shell beans.


But in spite of the change in season, farmers, chefs, and shoppers still crowd the Union Square greenmarket, stamping their feet and puffing great clouds of breath into the chilly air. There’s an atmosphere of expectation, though it’s hard to tell how much of it is the invigorating end of the heat and how much is the bracing perfume of evergreen that suddenly envelops the market.


The first time each year that I see those stacks of wreaths, coils of garland, and miniature forests of fir trees, I can't help but smile. And the amaryllis bulbs, cyclamen, and poinsettias are all out in full force now too. Plus the annual Union Square Holiday Market opened the day after Thanksgiving, and it’s been wonderful to buy a cup of hot cider from one of the apple vendors and wander to the south end of the square to browse through the stalls of ornaments, toys, and gifts.


Make the most of those apples, by the way. They’re still crisp and fragrant, but they’ll loose their fresh crunch before too long. And though the beet, cabbage, carrot, leek, onion, potato, winter squash, turnip, and pear harvests are all officially over now too, these crops are available from cold storage and are still full of flavor.



Still being harvested this December are the parsnips and shell beans, plus collard greens, kale, and other hardy greens until the first snow. Enjoy these crops while they’re fresh from the field – there won’t be any new harvests now until April.



Find a guide to New York’s holiday markets here. And, as always, the harvest calendar is available in the sidebar over there on the right all month. The information comes from the CENYC, which runs the Greenmarket & New Farmer Development Project. To locate markets near you in the US, check the Zip or City Quick Search at Local Harvest.

Happy December, happy winter, and happy holidays!

Pear & Calvados Galette - a Recipe

Well I think I’ve finally emerged from my Thanksgiving turkey coma – hope you all had a great holiday! While I was on break earlier this month, I left a poll up so that you all could vote on your favorite November crop. The choices were chestnuts, parsnips, leeks, pears, and fennel, and, though chestnuts and pears were neck and neck for a long time, in the end pears won out.


This galette is one I love making at the back end of pear season, when the weather’s turned cold and the holidays are within sight. I adore the crust, a gently sweetened pâte sablée, which bakes into a rustic, crumbly shell reminiscent of sugar cookies. This pear recipe’s based on the flavors of Normandy, a northwestern French region that lies on the southern coast of the English Channel.

Normandy’s cuisine celebrates the region’s exquisite cheeses, butter, cream, seafood, and apples and pears, which usually feature in the area’s stunning pastries. And, of course, there is Calvados – the amber apple brandy that’s heady with oak, apricot, nuts, and maybe even a little chocolate. The proportion of tart apples to bitter and sweet varieties that are pressed for distillation is closely monitored, and so Calvados is far more complex and sophisticated than liquors like apple jack, which is far too sweet for my palate. Often up to 100 different apple types are used in this process.

Calvados is used to flavor all manner of dishes in Normandy, from mussels in cream and lamb stew, to pastries and sweets. And the brandy also features in the region’s traditional le trou Normand, or “Norman hole.” Here, during longer meals with multiple courses, a dram of Calvados is sipped while each dish is cleared and the next is served in order to rouse the appetite. Sounds a bit more fun than our sedate spoonful of lemon sorbet, doesn’t it?

Pears are included in one of the appellations for Calvados (AOC Calvados Domfrontais), but I think all 3 Calvados appellations work wonderfully to enhance the flavor and earthy fragrance of the fruit. Here I’ve mixed one apple with the pears to echo the complexity of the brandy. And I think you’ll agree that the sprinkling of citrus zest melds with the Calvados - not only letting the pears sing, but also making this a gloriously seasonal dessert. One whiff, and a little surge of anticipation of the upcoming holidays is sure to follow. Serve with crème fraîche and pour glasses of Calvados for an authentic Norman end to any cold weather supper.


Serves 6

1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
kosher salt
3 tbsp granulated sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
1/8 tsp baking powder
7 tbsp cold butter
2 eggs, cold
½ tsp good vanilla extract
3 large, firm pears (Bosc works well here)
juice of 2 lemons
1 apple (nothing too tart – I use Honeycrisp)
zest of 1 lemon
zest of 1 small orange
2 tsp Calvados
Crème fraîche for serving (optional)

In a food processor, pulse the flour, a pinch of salt, sugar, and baking powder to combine. Dice the butter into small cubes with a sharp knife. Add to the food processor and pulse just until the mixture looks like coarse oatmeal. Add one of the eggs and the vanilla, and pulse until just combined and the dough just starts to come together. Do not overwork.

Turn the dough – which may be quite sticky – out on a sheet of parchment and press into a disk. Use the tips of your fingers for this rather than the palms of your hands – the less heat and movement the dough is subjected to, the more tender it will be. Wrap the disk of dough in more parchment and refrigerate for 1 hour or up to 3 days.

Meanwhile, make the filling. Using a sharp paring knife, peel a pear and halve it lengthwise. Trim the stem and blossom, and use a melon baller to scoop out the core. Turn each half over and slice fairly thinly. Immediately transfer the slices to a bowl and spritz with plenty of lemon juice to avoid browning. Repeat with the remaining pears and with the apple, making sure all are coated with plenty of lemon juice. Add the lemon and orange zest and gently toss with your fingers to combine.

Preheat the oven to 425 F.

Let the dough come back up to room temperature for 15 minutes. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper, dust a rolling pin and the dough with a little flour, and roll the dough out on the paper to a circle about 12 inches across.


Pile the fruit in the center of the dough. Fold the sides of the dough up over the filling, working around the circle, so that each fold overlaps the last (see the photo above). If your dough cracks, it’s a little too cold still. Let it rest for 5 minutes and try again. If your dough is too sticky, use a bench scraper or the side of a chef’s knife to fold over the edges. Place the baking sheet in the fridge and chill for 15 minutes.

Sprinkle the Calvados over the exposed fruit, and sprinkle with another pinch of salt. Mix the remaining egg with a little water and brush over the crust. Sprinkle the crust with a few pinches of granulated sugar.

Bake the galette in the oven for 30 minutes or until the crust is golden brown. Cool on a rack for 10 -15 minutes before serving. The galette is also delicious at room temperature.

Aegean Baked Potatoes with Lemon, Olive Oil, & Sea Salt - a Recipe

Hello again! Thanks for your patience while I took a quick break to sharpen both my knives and my wits. It’s great to be getting back into the swing of things just as the holiday season is kicking off here in New York – this is truly my favorite time of year.

And it was lovely to be welcomed back the other day with an email from Charlotte of The Great Big Vegetable Challenge. I’m always happy to see her name in my inbox, and this time she wanted to know if I had any jacket potato recipes I’d like to share for her and Freddie’s round up. I adore jacket potatoes, or baked potatoes as we call them here in the States – far less imaginative of us, I know. And as it so happens, there is a simple, perfectly addictive Greek method for preparing them that I revel in this time of year.

The Ottomans, who ruled most of Greece from the mid 15th century until the early 19th century, brought potatoes to the region. But they didn't fully infiltrate the culinary lexicon until the British moved into the region shortly thereafter. In spite of this, I must admit that when I taste the incredibly nuanced flavors that Greece’s terrain imparts to its tubers or sample preparations as rustic and heavenly as this one, it can be hard to believe they haven’t been grown there since the days of Odysseus himself.

Lemon juice and olive oil has to be one of my favorite combinations of all time, and it’s one I’ve been served all over Greece on everything from football-sized squid to cold cheese sandwiches. The pairing never disappoints, and here, with the addition of some good sea salt and a touch of freshly ground black pepper, it raises the russet potatoes to their deliciously fragrant, juicy, and twangily earthy height.

Potatoes tend to be harvested at the same time as the olives in Greece, and I'll never forget the first time I tasted these dressed with freshly-pressed local olive oil, straight from the village mill. Back home, just try to use the best quality extra virgin olive oil you can get your hands on. Thanks for the excuse to post these, Charlotte!


Serves 4

4 large russet or other thickly-skinned floury potatoes
½ cup extra virgin olive oil, plus extra for serving
juice of 2 - 3 lemons
good sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Wash the potatoes thoroughly and pierce their skins in several places with the tip of a sharp knife. Place them directly on the center rack in a cold oven – there’s no need to wrap them in foil. Turn on the oven to 350 F and bake for 1 to 1 ½ hours until the potatoes are tender and give gently when you squeeze them. Remove the potatoes from the oven.

Just before serving, slit each potato down the middle with a sharp knife – careful not to cut all the way through. Being gentle so as not to tear the skins, scoop out the flesh of the potatoes and place in a medium bowl. Working fairly quickly to keep the potatoes hot, season very generously with plenty of good olive oil (I use ½ a cup), the juice of 2 of the lemons, and a good amount of sea salt and black pepper. Stir with a fork, being careful not to overwork, just until the oil and lemon are absorbed – you’re not going for a smooth consistency at all here. Be sure to taste the potatoes and correct the seasoning with more oil, lemon, salt, or pepper as desired. You may be surprised by how much you need of all 4 seasonings.

Drizzle the inside of each potato skin with a little more olive oil, spritz with any remaining lemon juice, and sprinkle with some salt. Spoon the seasoned potato back into the skins, finish with a final drizzle of olive oil and sprinkling of sea salt, and serve immediately while still hot.

My Knives Are Being Sharpened

It’s never a good idea to let your knives get too dull - or your mind for that matter. So my knives are off to the Broadway Panhandler for a good seeing to, and I’m taking the opportunity for a rejuvenating rest.

I should be back online in the next 10 days or so, and I hope you’ll excuse my absence from the blogosphere while I recharge. We’ll have lots of catching up to do, so take a moment and let me know which November crops you’d most like to hear about when my knives – and my wits – are in working order again.


Update:
The lovely and talented Maryam of My Marrakesh just found out she's a finalist in the 2007 Annual Blog Awards for the category of Best Middle East or African Blog. Those of you who are fans of her unbelievably exotic and beautiful site can vote for her here. Maryam only just found out about the award, so she needs our help catching up on votes, and the deadline looks too be November 8th! Those of you who aren't familiar with My Marrakesh can check out Maryam and her family's adventures designing and building a sumptuous Moroccan guest house here. Congratulations and good luck Maryam!

The November Harvest Calendar

It’s a funny time at the markets right now. The sun is lower, the shadows are longer, and all the crops you’d expect this time of year are in evidence, but so are many lingering reminders of summer. Of course, it’s all due to the unusually warm autumn New York’s had. Good tomatoes are still in abundance, as are eggplants, green beans, and even a few everbearing strawberries – strange enough in November alone, never mind piled next to the parsnips, chestnuts, and brussel sprouts.


The River Garden’s fresh flowers seem to be behaving more appropriately, which unfortunately means they’re almost all gone. But there are still gloriously fragrant buckets of fresh eucalyptus for sale next to the wreaths of dried wheat, chili peppers, and lavender from the year’s second harvest. And elsewhere there are domed carpets of chrysanthemums – expectant harbingers to next month’s cyclamen, amaryllis, and poinsettias.


Barring yet another Indian summer, many of autumn’s harvests do finish this month. By November’s end, the field grown apples, beets, broccoli, brussel sprouts, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, fennel, mesclun, and pears will all be harvested, so make the most of these crops while you can.


It’s also a good time to enjoy leeks, onions, potatoes, winter squash, and turnips, because, though we’ll probably be dipping into cold storage reserves for these crops by mid-month, the produce will still be as fresh as it’s going to be until next year, if you catch my drift. And pay particular attention to pumpkins. Their harvest is over now, and they’re only available from cold storage for the next 4 weeks.


As always, this information is available in the sidebar harvest calendar over there on the right all month. The information comes from a guide published by the CENYC, which runs the Greenmarket & New Farmer Development Project. Of course, the best way to familiarize yourself with what's in season where you live is to visit farmer's markets in your area at least every couple of weeks. I truly learn the most of all from the farmers themselves. So ask questions at the market – it’s the best way to find out which crops are not only available, but at their peak. To locate markets near you in the US, check the Zip or City Quick Search at Local Harvest.

Happy autumn, and happy November!

Quince & Pistachio Phyllo Tart - a Recipe

Quinces are drastically underused in this country. Sure we think of them once in a while for preserves, occasionally for membrillo, and even more seldom to enhance the flavors of our apple pies, but it’s very rare indeed that I see a desert featuring them as a main player, or a savory dish that takes advantage of their fragrant twang.

The problem is, I suppose, that quinces grown outside of western Asia and the tropics have to be cooked for long hours before they can be eaten. Only in warmer climes do they ripen to honeyed sweetness that can be enjoyed straight off the tree. But the rewards are too good to be missed.

A fresh quince should be golden in color, and much of its fuzz, slightly thicker than a peach’s, should have fallen away before the fruit is harvested. The scent is heavenly – I think it can be most accurately described as that of a garden after the rain. There’s a decided floral element, yes, but under that there’s the sweetness of wet leaves, and the pungency of bark and soil. Once cooked, the color changes miraculously into a jewel-toned blush, and the fragrance mellows out to a tart-sweet floral twang.


Quinces have long been used to freshen the scent of Mediterranean homes – it’s lovely to keep a bowl of them about this time of year. And they’ve long been considered a powerful fertility symbol in that part of the world. Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love, held them sacred, and couples in Ancient Greece shared a quince on their wedding night.

Perhaps my favorite tradition involving quinces is the ancient Athenians' practice of hurling them at the nuptial chariot as the bride and groom made their way to their new home after the wedding. A raw quince is remarkably hard, and I imagine lobbing one at the right person could be immensely satisfying.

Further east, in Turkey for example, quince tarts are often flavored with dried rose petals and coriander. But here I've spiced mine the way I've enjoyed them in Greece - with a faintly sweet mixture of cinnamon and cardamom. Feel free to play around with the flavors and drizzle a little rosewater into the whipped cream if you'd like. This tart is best for the first 3 - 4 hours it's out of the oven. After that it tastes just as heady and fragrant, but the syrupy juice from the quinces soaks into the crisp phyllo and takes away its crunch.


Serves 8 – 10

6 quinces
juice of 2 lemons
½ cup granulated sugar
2 cinnamon sticks
4 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground cardamom
½ tsp kosher salt
4 sheets phyllo dough, thawed if necessary
5 oz. unsalted butter, melted
3 tbsp fresh pistachio nuts
2 cups heavy cream (optional)

Peel a quince – I find a pairing knife works best here, but you can also use a speed peeler – and cut in half from top to bottom. Using a melon baller, remove the core and seeds. Trim any stem and place the halves in a heavy pot. Pour over the lemon juice, and fill with water until the quince halves are just covered. Repeat with the rest of the quinces, putting them into the acidulated water as quickly as possible to prevent discoloration.

Put the pot over medium heat, add the cinnamon sticks and ½ cup of sugar. Bring the liquid to a simmer, stirring often until the sugar is dissolved, Reduce the heat to very low, cover, and bubble very slowly for 2 – 3 hours just until the quinces turn pink – remember you need these quince halves intact. Gently remove the halves from the liquid and chill (they’re easier to work with once they firm up in the fridge). Reserve the liquid for a delicious tea, or reduce for drizzling into mixed drinks.

Preheat the oven to 400 F.

In a small bowl, mix the remaining 4 tbsp of sugar with the cinnamon, cardamom, and salt. Open the phyllo sheets out on a clean stretch of counter, and cover completely with a damp dishtowel.

Using a pastry brush, coat a flat baking sheet with melted butter. Lay a sheet of phyllo on the sheet and immediately replace the damp dishtowel over the remaining phyllo. Brush the phyllo with melted butter and sprinkle evenly with 1 tsp of the sugar mixture. Repeat with the remaining 3 sheets of phyllo. Using the tip of a very sharp knife to prevent tearing, trim the sugared phyllo stack to a rectangle approximately 11” x 14” and discard the trimmed dough. Bake the phyllo in the center of the oven for 8 – 10 minutes until golden.

Working from top to bottom – rather than across the equator of the fruit - gently slice one of the quince halves into thin half-moons. You need to go quite thin here – shoot for about 12 slices per quince half. Gently arrange the slices, curved side out, along a shorter edge of the phyllo shell. Overlap a second row over the first, trying to stagger the spacing, and use end pieces or half-slices to fill in the edges. Continue until the entire phyllo shell is covered. Sprinkle over another 1 ½ tbsp of the sugar mixture and bake for 15 more minutes. You may discard the extra sugar mixture.

Meanwhile, toast the pistachios in a small, dry saucepan over low heat until fragrant, stirring constantly to avoid burning. Remove to cool and chop coarsely.

Remove the tart from the oven and sprinkle with the toasted pistachios. Cool for 15 – 20 minutes before serving – or you may serve at room temperature. Just before serving, whip the cream (if using) to soft peaks. Cut the tart into rectangular wedges and serve with a dollop of the cream.

Pumpkin Fennel Tian with Bacon & Black Olives - a Recipe

Some of you may remember my post from June for an Early Summer Tian. A tian (pronounced as one syllable: tyahnn) is a Provençal vegetable casserole named for the earthenware dish in which it is baked. Tians can be remarkably beautiful – especially, I think, when the ingredients are arranged on their sides in multi-colored rows – and this makes them a fantastic way to celebrate whatever’s in season at that particular moment. It’s easy to imagine their originating as a way to use up the glut in home gardens, harvest by harvest, across the south of France.


Right now, our greenmarkets here in New York are brimming with heaps of anise-redolent fennel and stunningly bright orange pumpkins. It feels festive – even though it’s still unseasonably warm – and I was thrilled when Charlotte of The Great Big Vegetable Challenge suggested we come up with some pumpkin recipes for her son Freddie’s P is for Pumpkin tasting.

For those of you not familiar with Charlotte’s work, her fantastic blog – an alphabetical exploration and adventure through the perils and pleasures of vegetable eating – was launched when Freddie’s abject horror of peas reached epic proportions. He and his sister Alex have risen to each challenge admirably, and both now have exceptionally adventurous palates. Freddie even learned to like peas earlier this month!


This time, Charlotte’s made an irresistible Pumpkin and Smoky Bacon Risotto, David Hall at Book the Cook offers a sumptuous Spiced Pumpkin, Bacon and Mussel Conchiglie, Hannah of Hannah’s Country Kitchen’s offering Freddie her delicious Pumpkin Cheesecake Muffins, and Alanna of A Veggie Venture has made a beautiful Whole Roasted Pumpkin. And Freddie, my friend, I would also like to point you in the direction of my Pumpkin Hazelnut Gelato from earlier this month.

Fortunately, Freddie feels fairly indulgent towards pumpkins – these recipes are so tantalizing, and Halloween is right around the corner, after all – so I thought that roasting them in a tian to caramelize them into earthy sweetness would be a great way to savor the flavors of October.

I’ve tossed the pumpkin and fennel slices with thyme, parsley, and the fennel bulb’s fronds, as well as with some lemon zest for brightness. And for this tian, I’ve used streaky bacon and oil-cured Provençal black olives as the topping - both of which go slightly crisp, which I love. I think you may be surprised by how satisfying a supper the dish can make – it’s true home food: easy, rustic, and infinitely adaptable.


Serves 4

1 2 ½ - 3 lb pumpkin
1 bulb fennel, stalks removed and fronds reserved and chopped
extra virgin olive oil
6 stems of thyme, leaves chopped
1 handful fresh parsley leaves, chopped, plus a little more for serving
zest and juice of one lemon
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
3 – 4 slices streaky bacon, snipped into half-lengths
small handful oil-cured black olives


Preheat the oven to 425 F

Using a sharp knife, slice the top and base off of the pumpkin. Set it on its now flat base and, working from top to bottom, carefully, slice off the rind in strips, cutting off as little flesh as possible. Cut the peeled pumpkin in half from top to bottom. Using a sturdy metal spoon, scoop out the web of fibers and seeds. Cut each half into narrow half-moon wedges.

Trim the base of the fennel bulb and the cut in half from top to bottom. Cut each half into thin wedges, being careful to include a little of the core in each wedge to keep it intact.

Toss the pumpkin and fennel slices in a bowl with a good glug of olive oil, the fennel fronds, thyme, parsley, lemon zest, and plenty of salt and pepper.

In a large earthenware or cast iron dish, arrange the vegetable slices vertically with narrow sides pointing up – you want the tips to roast brown and sweet in the oven. Pack them in tightly in a single layer (see photo below), and them sprinkle with any herb and lemon mixture left over in the bowl.


Lay over the bacon strips and scatter over the black olives – be sure to warn guests if your olives still have their pits. Bake the tian for 1 hour or until the vegetables are brown, the pumpkin is soft, and the bacon and olives are slightly crunchy.

Check the seasoning and serve either hot or room temperature, sprinkled with a little more parsley and some lemon juice if desired.

Wine Braised Duck with Chestnuts & Polenta - a Recipe

Game season. Are there any 2 words in the English language as simultaneously invigorating and cozy? Not in my book, and the food of northern Italy is a glorious way to celebrate.

Piedmont – a region in the northwest corner of Italy – is famous for its pheasant, hare, quail, and wild duck. All of which are in season at the same time as the area’s renowned white truffles, wild mushrooms, and red grapes. As you might imagine, October’s a wonderful time to visit.

I love this traditional Piedmontese recipe for its rustic simplicity and bold flavors – the herbal bay and smoky chestnuts meld with the wine into a rich, heady sauce that’s just what I want on a rainy evening.

Traditionally, the sauce from the duck might be served first over pasta, but I like to heap it, along with the meat, vegetables, and chestnuts, over polenta that’s seasoned with plenty of butter and parmesan cheese. Piedmont’s game birds have long been paired with golden polenta, and here I’ve used a coarse, stone-round version from Wild Hive Farm. If you prefer set polenta (customarily it’s favored in the region), make it at least 2 hours ahead, omit the butter, cut it into thin slices once set, and grill or broil just before serving.

Lia Huber of Swirling Notions is getting a braising chain going, and you can check it out here.


Serves 4 – 6

6 duck legs
extra virgin olive oil
2 medium onions, large dice
kosher salt
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
3 ribs celery, chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
freshly ground black pepper
4 bay leaves
½ bottle red wine
4 oz. roasted chestnuts (jarred is fine if you prefer)
2 cups coarse-ground yellow polenta
4 oz. unsalted butter
1 ½ cups (loosely packed) finely grated parmesan cheese

Remove the skin and fat from the duck legs – this usually takes some combination of brute force and a sharp boning knife. I urge you to reserve the skin and render out its fat over low heat – this freezes well and makes an excellent seasoning throughout the year.

Heat a large pot over medium heat. Add a glug of olive oil and then the diced onion. Season with kosher salt and sweat, stirring often, until slightly translucent. Add the carrots and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly softened. Add the garlic and stir for one minute more.

Season the vegetables with plenty of black pepper and add 3 of the bay leaves and teh chestnuts (unless they are jarred - in which case wait until the duck has 30 minutes left to cook). Arrange the duck legs, fleshy side down, over the vegetables. Add the wine and raise the heat to medium high. Bring the liquid to a bubble, cover partially, reduce the heat to very low, and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for 1 hour or until tender.

Meanwhile, place a large pot with 6 cups of water on the stove. Season the water with 1 tbsp kosher salt and the remaining bay leaf. Place a smaller pot on the stove with 4 cups of water. Bring both to the boil and reduce the smaller pot to a gentle simmer. Cover the smaller pot.

Whisking constantly, sprinkle the polenta into the seasoned water, being sure to sift it in through your fingers so clumps don’t form. As soon as the polenta and water are combined, reduce the heat as low as it will go – you’re looking for a lazy bubble here. Continue to stir the polenta with a wooden spoon.

Stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, add a ladle or 2 full of simmering water from the smaller pot each time the polenta starts to thicken – about every 5 minutes. After about 45 minutes, the polenta will be creamy and pull away from the side of the pot. Remove from the heat, discard the bay leaf, and stir in the butter until completely melted and combined. Next stir in the grated parmesan cheese. Correct the seasoning with black pepper and more salt if necessary. Serve the duck and vegetables over the polenta with plenty of the cooking juices.

Finished soft polenta keeps, covered over very low heat, up to 1 hour.

Bresaola Salad with Wild Arugula & Lemon - a Recipe

Bresaola is a specialty of the Valtellina valley, which lies on the Swiss border in the northern Italian region of Lombardy. It’s made by salting and air-drying raw beef tenderloin for about 3 months, and the finished product is traditionally sliced paper-thin and served with olive oil, lemon juice, and plenty of black pepper as an antipasto.

The texture, as you might imagine, is reminiscent of prosciutto – though most bresaola is drier than typical Italian cured ham, and the flavor is subtly earthy and sharp. Whether served plain or dressed with Lombardy’s heavenly citrus and olive oil, bresaola is one of my all-time favorite salumi, and it plays an important role in this time-honored salad from the region.

Migliorelli Farm is still harvesting their peppery wild arugula, and, along with some nutty splinters of good parmesan cheese, the leaves form a glorious base for a few deep ruby slivers of bresaola and plenty of juicy olive oil and lemon. It’s a match made in heaven, truly greater than the sum of its parts, and the dish makes a magnificent lunch for one or a savory part of any cool weather dinner. Bresaola is available at most gourmet deli counters here in New York, but a quick google search shows the salumi's available online too.


Serves 4

½ lb fresh arugula, rinsed well and dried
extra virgin olive oil
juice of 2 lemons
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 – 2 oz. good parmesan cheese
3 oz (roughly 20 very thin slices) bresaola

Trim the arugula stems and put the leaves in a large bowl. Drizzle with plenty of the olive oil, shower over the lemon juice, season generously with salt and pepper, and toss well to combine. Taste to see if you need to add more salt or pepper.

Just before serving, use a vegetable peeler to shave off some long slivers of parmesan cheese. Toss half of them into the arugula and divide the leaves between 4 plates. Lay 5 bresaola slices amongst the leaves on each plate (if you add them to the dressing too long before serving, the lemon juice can discolor them), and scatter over the rest of the parmesan shards. Finish with another good grind of black pepper, and serve immediately.

Porchetta & Roast Radicchio Pizzas - a Recipe

The fragrance of savory porchetta – slowly roasting on the spit, is one that permeates the markets of Tuscany, from the seaside villages of the Maremma all the way to Florence’s maginificent Mercato Centrale.

Porchetta (por-KET-tah) – usually a whole piglet that’s heavily salted, stuffed with fennel seed, rosemary, and garlic, and turned slowly over a wood fire – is traditionally sliced at market and served sandwiched in a roll (see the photo below). But the incredibly moist dish also makes an appearance on the region’s holiday tables as a uniquely Tuscan take on roast suckling pig.


It’s possible to buy porchetta, some made in-house, at States-side deli counters these days – a fact I delight in once the weather turns crisp. Which it finally has! We spent most of the weekend outdoors in sweaters and jackets, and by evening it’s been positively brisk.

I’ll probably write about how to make your own porchetta soon, but in the meantime, these pizzas make use of the store-bought variety. And if you can’t find any, don’t let that stop you from preparing the dish. With its long-simmered tomato sauce and caramelized radicchio, this is a fantastically aromatic recipe for celebrating the shorter days and longer light of autumn. Leftover roast pork, pepperoni, and even prosciutto all make great substitutions for the porchetta, though if you use prosciutto, wait until the pizzas come out of the oven to lay on the paper-thin slices. The tomato sauce tastes even richer the next day, freezes well, and is also lovely on pasta.


Makes 4 individual pizzas

extra virgin olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced very small or even pulsed to a coarse paste in the food processor
kosher salt
2 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
3 cups canned chopped or crushed tomatoes
½ cup red wine
2 bay leaves
freshly ground black pepper
½ tsp granulated sugar
½ small head radicchio
cornmeal
1 portion pizza dough (about 20 oz. Click on the link for a recipe)
2 – 3 slices of porchetta (be sure to ask for a leaner cut if that's what you prefer, though I enjoy the smoky flavor that comes from the pork fat)
1 tsp minced fresh rosemary
scant 1 oz. pecorino romano cheese for grating


Heat a medium pot over medium heat. Add a glug of olive oil and then the onion. Sprinkle with salt and sweat, stirring often, until softened and translucent. Add the garlic cloves and stir for 2 minutes more. Then add the tomatoes, the wine, and the bay leaves. Season well with pepper and a little more salt. Stir in the sugar and raise the heat to medium high. Bring to a bubble, reduce the heat to low, cover partially, and simmer for 1½ hours, stirring to the bottom often to prevent burning.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350 F.

Cut the radiccio into 4 wedges, being sure to keep a portion of the core intact on each quarter so a little section of it holds each wedge together. Cover a baking sheet in foil and drizzle with olive oil. Arrange the wedges on the foil, drizzle with more olive oil, and season with salt. Roast for 15 minutes, turn each wedge over, and roast for 30 minutes more.

When the tomato sauce is finished, correct the seasoning with more salt and pepper if necessary – tomatoes often need quite a bit of salt to bring out their savor. When ready to continue, discard the garlic cloves and bay leaves.

Put a pizza stone (if you decide to use one – it’s not imperative) in the center of the oven and preheat to 400 F.

Sprinkle a flat cookie sheet (no sides) with cornmeal. Using a sharp knife, divide the pizza dough into 4 portions and roll or stretch each one out to a circle about 6 inches in diameter.
Arrange the 4 dough circles on the cornmeal, brush with olive oil, and season with a little salt.

Ladle on no more than 2 tbsp of the tomato sauce per pizza and spread out with the back of the spoon, leaving a thin border bare around the edge of the dough. Tear over a few small pieces of porchetta. Grate over a very fine dusting of pecorino romano (see photo above). The cheese is more of a seasoning agent than a feature in the dish here – I prefer using a microplane for the task. Sprinkle over the minced rosemary, and finally, arrange a wedge of radicchio in the center of each pizza.

If you’re using a pizza stone, sprinkle it liberally with cornmeal and slide the pizzas onto the stone. Otherwise just put your cookie tray into the center of the oven. Bake for 20 - 25 minutes until the crusts are lightly golden. Serve immediately.

Egyptian Spiced Date Cookies for Eid al-Fitr - a Recipe

Eid al-Fitr, the Muslim “Festival of the Breaking of the Fast” that comes at the end of Ramadan, begins tonight. In Egypt, the Eid al-Fitr celebrations traditionally last for 3 days, and Muslims throughout the country exchange gifts and don new clothing. And, as you might expect after a month of fasting, they feast.

No Egyptian Eid al-Fitr feast is complete without kahk, the headily spiced yeast cookies that are often rolled in sesame seeds or stuffed with dates or nuts before being baked and blanketed with copious amounts of powdered sugar.

It seems there are as many traditional preparations of kahk as there are villages on the Nile, and authenticity is hotly debated – much as with cassoulet in Languedoc-Rousillon Some areas hold that pleated, ring-shaped cookies, coated in sesame seeds, are the “real” kahk, while other regions insist the patterned imprint made by a specific metal stamp is the mark of legitimacy. Stuffings range from honeyed sesame seeds to ground nuts, but the sliver of anise-redolent date paste I’ve used here is my favorite version.

Rihat el Kahk is a spice mixture or essence used as part of the cookies’ seasoning in Egypt. It contains aniseed, fennel seed, mahlab, and bay leaf. Mahlab is made from ground sour cherry stones, and it lends a bitter almond fragrance to the dish. I love these cookies because they’re rich without being painfully sweet. They have a crumbly texture, and they’re intensely aromatic with cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, fennel, anise, almond, and bay. I’ve adapted my recipe to make up for my sad lack of Rihat el Kahk, so not to worry if you don’t have access to North African ingredients. Happy Eid al-Fitr!


Makes approximately 40 cookies

1 cup whole milk
3 bay leaves, fresh if possible
16 oz. unsalted butter
4 ½ cups all purpose flour
3 tsp ground aniseed
3 tsp ground fennel seed
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cardamom
½ tsp ground cloves
2 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp active dry yeast
1 tsp granulated sugar
1 tsp almond extract
2 cups (about 10 oz.) pitted dates
powdered sugar for dusting

Twist or crush the bay leaves to bruise them and heat with the milk in a small saucepan until very warm – do not allow to bubble or boil. Remove from the heat, cover, and let steep for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, place the butter in a medium pot and heat over medium-high heat until it foams and bubbles. Continue to cook until the solids have separated to the bottom of the pan and the butter is lightly golden in color.

As the butter is cooking, whisk together the flour, 1 ½ tsps of the aniseed, 1 ½ tsps of the fennel seed, the cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Once the butter is clarified and golden, pour the liquid into the flour and spice mixture and mix thoroughly – I use a stand mixer with a paddle attachment.

Remove the bay leaves from the milk, and, once the mixture has cooled enough that it’s just warm to the touch, dissolve in the yeast and the sugar. Allow to bloom for 10 minutes and then add to the flour and butter mixture along with the almond extract. Knead or process until the mixture comes together, and then cover with plastic wrap and let rest in a warm place for 1 hour.

While the dough is resting, place the dates and the remaining aniseed and fennel seed into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until the mixture comes together in a thick paste.

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Form a ball of dough and flatten it to a disk about 3 inches across. Form a 1-inch disk of date paste and place in the center of the dough. Fold up all 4 sides and pinch together to seal (see photo above). Allow the formed cookies to rest for 15 - 20 minutes, and then bake for 25 minutes or until golden and cooked through. While they're still hot, transfer the cookies to a rack and shake over confectioner’s sugar through a sieve until they're completely covered. Cool completely before storing in an airtight container.