Good for the soul. Good for colds.

That "good for colds" thing may just be an old wives' tale, but it seemed to work out for JR last night. I have only a minute, but wanted to share with you the recipe for the cold-slaying (well, we hope cold-slaying after today, anyway) chicken soup.

Chicken Soup with pasta - made with homemade chicken stock:

Chicken Stock:
Ingredients:
(1) 4-5 pound whole chicken, pieced into 6 pieces (legs, wings, breasts)
1 yellow onion, cut in half, unpeeled
1 head of garlic, cut in half, unpeeled
2 large carrots, cut into 4 pieces each, washed and unpeeled
2 ribs of celery, cut into 4 pieces each, well-washed, with leafy tops still on

2 tablespoons black peppercorns
10 stalks parsley
12-15 stalks fresh thyme
3 stalks fresh sage

16 cups cold water. If you don't like the taste of your tap water, use bottled water instead.

Tie a piece of kitchen twine around the herbs to make it easier to remove them when the stock is finished.

Place chicken, vegetables, pepper and herbs in a large stock pot. Pour water over being certain that all ingredients are under the water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cover and simmer gently for 2 hours. Allow stock to cool for about an hour. Remove chicken to a plate and discard all other ingredients, straining through a fine mesh strainer into a large bowl or stockpot to remove all solids.

Reserve 12 cups of stock for the chicken soup. Transfer remaining 4 cups to an airtight container and refrigerate or freeze for future use.

Chicken soup:

Ingredients:
12 cups homemade chicken stock
Cooked chicken removed from bones of chicken used in making of stock
6 large carrots, peeled and sliced
6 stalks of celery, sliced
8 ounces frozen sweet corn
1 1/2 cups orzo or other small pasta
2 tablespoons thyme
salt and pepper

The biggest bear in the whole process is removing the chicken from the bones. If you'd prefer to make the soup with a rotisserie chicken and purchased stock, that's all good, however, the simmering to make the stock results in chicken that pulls apart from itself, giving that characteristic shredded chicken effect in the final product. Your choice.

Add the stock to a large stock pot. Heat over medium heat and add the carrots and celery, the chicken, orzo, and corn. Simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the orzo is cooked through, about 20 minutes. Add thyme, and salt and pepper to taste. Yield: 6-8 generous servings. Of course, you can also add any other vegetables you'd like to the mix. I added what I had on hand, and it was the perfect antidote to JR's cold. For him, anyway.

Dinner tonight: JR is still not feeling well, so more chicken soup for us. Hopefully this will do the trick and rid him of that nasty cough. Estimated cost for two: $3.79. We might sneak in a bit of bread, and if so, the total skyrockets to $4.89.

IF YOU HAVEN'T VOTED, THERE'S STILL TIME. GET OUT AND VOTE!

Pears and The Pyramid

Pears bruise so easily. They entice me into buying them with their pretty colors - jewel tone reds, soft new-grass greens, mottled sunset pink - and then, within a day of having them in my house, they look like they've been in a barroom brawl, all bruised skin and mushy flesh. So disappointing. But, it turns out, this is exactly when to turn these formerly-gorgeous-now-nasty little bruisers into something not quite as addictive as say, apple crumble, but still in that autumnal theme: baked pears. I have to say, I think this is an undervalued dessert item. First, you're upping your daily recommended count of fruits in a completely surreptitious fashion. These bad boys are decadent enough that you might even forget you're eating within the USDA Food Pyramid for your after-dinner treat. Secondly, they are super-easy to make. I searched around for a recipe to reference, which I frequently do when I'm not completely sure of the technique, read through a couple, and then decided to use what I had on hand in my pantry.



Cider-baked Pears:

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups apple cider
1/3 cup brown sugar or honey
1/3 cup currants (or raisins)
1/3 cup dried cranberries

3-4 pears, unpeeled, sliced in half and cored (a spoon or a melon-baller will do the trick)

2-3 tablespoons cinnamon sugar.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a small sauce pan, heat the cider and sugar or honey until it is dissolved. Simmer over medium heat until reduced slightly, about 5 minutes. Add the currants and dried cranberries. Simmer for about 2 minutes more, until currants and dried cranberries are softened, stirring occasionally. Remove currants and dried cranberries with a slotted spoon. Remove cider-sugar mixture from heat.

In a shallow baking pan (a lasagna pan or similar), arrange the pears cut side up. Pour cider-sugar mixture over the pears, then fill the cavity of each pear with the currants and dried cranberries. Sprinkle cinnamon sugar over top of the pears. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake until pears are soft and are easily pierced with a fork, about 45 minutes. Check mid-way through the cooking time and add additional cider if necessary. You don't want the liquid to bake off completely.

Serve either warm or at room temperature, drizzling reduced cooking liquid over top of the pears. Serving size: 1 pear half per person.

Now, to add to the ridiculousness, and to further take my mind off of the Food Pyramid, I made a toffee sauce to go with the pears:

1 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt

Combine ingredients in a medium sauce pan and cook over medium heat, stirring continuously, until sugar is dissolved and mixture is reduced and thickens to caramel sauce consistency, about 10-15 minutes. Remove from heat and serve warm or at room temperature. The sauce will keep for about a week in an airtight container in the refrigerator. Yield: about 1 1/2 cups. A little goes a long way.

If the toffee sauce doesn't take care of your dairy group recommendation for the day, don't forget the whipped cream, and you, the USDA, and their darned Pyramid should be all set until tomorrow.

Dinner tonight: chicken soup with oatmeal raisin bread toast. Estimated cost for two: $4.89. JR isn't feeling well, so I'm making a chicken-orzo soup with the most basic of ingredients. I've already made the stock, which consists of one whole 99-cent per pound chicken at $4.62, carrots, onions, and celery for both the stock and the soup: $3.26, corn is 85 cents, garlic was a quarter, the orzo is about $2.40. The thyme, sage, and parsley are from the garden and seeing as they lived through last night's frost, they are a gift and are therefore absolutely, 100% free. The total cost for the soup, which I estimate to provide around 6 servings, is $11.38. The bread costs about $3.69 per loaf, and I figure we'll get ten slices out of it (I'm sure you're supposed to get more like 12 or 16, but let's be real, ok?), so that's 37 cents a slice - JR will have two, I will have one, and that's a grand total of $1.10 in bread. And then we will have baked pears with toffee sauce - oh, and I made pecan ice cream, so we might have that, oh, but if not, we'll have whipped cream, and JR won't be able to taste any of it, but I sure will!

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE TOMORROW. (Sorry. I don't mean to yell, but it's really important that you vote.)

Wow. I really DO have a problem.

I know that I admitted to having a cooked-fruit-with-crumb-topping addiction nearly two weeks ago - a near-eternity in the blogosphere - and an admission which you most likely have forgotten by now or of which you were never aware. So let me say it again. I have a problem. But now I think the problem is not just fruit crumble. No. Now I believe that the problem truly is that perfect duo of the harvest season, apple and cinnamon. Holy smokes, is that shiznit good together. I am trying to come to terms with this spiral downward into my apple dessert addiction - one has to wonder when and how I will hit rock bottom. Will it be at the hands of an apple pandowdy? Or maybe it's less complex; a simple baked cinnamon apple will take me down and force me into Apple-Cinnamon Anonymous. In any event, this is the dessert (which also happens to double magnificently as a coffee cake, I must tell you) that forced me to face the depth of my problem. Oh, demon Cinnamon-Apple Cake, why must you do this to me?

Cinnamon-Apple Cake adapted from Cooking Light (don't be looking for low-fat ingredients - I said "adapted", darn it all.):

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
6 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 cup sugar

3 cups sliced peeled apples (I used 3 large + one little wee one, which probably put me over the 3 cups called for here.)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a 9-inch springform pan

Combine flour, salt, and baking powder in a bowl and mix well.

Combine cinnamon and 1/4 cup sugar. Take 2 tablespoons of the cinnamon-sugar mixture and add it to the sliced, peeled apples, stirring to distribute cinnamon-sugar throughout. Reserve remaining cinnamon-sugar mixture.

Mix sugar and butter in mixing bowl until well-blended. Add cream cheese and vanilla extract and blend on medium-low speed until well-combined. The mixture will resemble a grainy frosting. You're trying to introduce air into the batter so that it will be light and fluffy during this part of the process.

Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour mixture and blend on low speed until well blended. Fold apples into batter.

Pour batter into springform pan, sprinkling remaining cinnamon-sugar over the top of the cake. Bake for approximately 1 hour 10 minutes or until the cake begins to separate from the side of the pan.

Cool completely on a rack. Because the cake is so moist, use a serrated knife to cut.

Servings: 10-12

Serve with the homemade vanilla ice cream posted yesterday, and just watch as you sink deeper and deeper into an apple-cinnamon addiction. I must warn you, this cake is not dense like your average coffee cake. It is light and ethereal and is, as JR said so eloquently, chock-a-block of appleness and cinnamony-ness. Oh, and on day three, the vanilla ice cream had only improved in flavor.

Dinner tonight: A-ha! OUT for dinner! Imagine? We're going to my favorite restaurant, Trattoria della Nonna. One cannot live on frugality alone. Not on apple-cinnamon desserts alone, either, in fact. Shocking, I realize, but true.

p.s. This morning, I bought another two-dollar and fifty-cent bag of apples (5+ pounds!) from my neighbors, specifically for cooking, though I haven't finished off the first bag I bought two weeks ago. She said they still have about 30 bushels left to pick. I should be sufficiently sated with even a small percentage of 30 bushels, right? Oh boy, I really do hope so.

I come bearing vanilla treats

I've only recently begun to make ice cream in earnest. It began this past June, on JR and my fifth wedding anniversary. Strawberries were at their peak, and unlike last year when there was nary a native strawberry to be found, they were abundant at my local farm stand. We had decided to stay in and have dinner on the lawn on a beat up old farm table that I had insisted we rescue from further decay in the equipment bay of our barn a few years back. We had a fantastic bottle of wine, a Brunello di Montalcino given to us by my friend Mary, a salad with lettuce from the garden, roasted beets, gorgonzola, chicken and walnuts, and I made a lemon tart, but the highlight of the dinner - excluding the wine - was the strawberry ice cream. It was wonderfully creamy with just a hint of tart to balance the sweet - which is more than I can say for the lemon tart. The lemon tart - I hate to admit - was never finished. The strawberry ice cream, however, most certainly was. In short order, might I add.

The success of the strawberry ice cream started me on an ice cream and gelato-making spree. I made chocolate gelato, espresso gelato with chocolate chips, more strawberry ice cream, peach ice cream, and just a couple of weeks ago, a maple walnut ice cream, which, to this point in my novice ice cream chefdom was the creamiest of all the ice creams I've made. Then, disaster struck. I made a caramel walnut ice cream last week that refused to freeze. It had a wonderful, intense flavor of caramel (this was also the first time I had made caramel), and the toasted walnuts were only adding to the intensity of the flavor, but it was more of an iced topping than an iced cream. And then I realized. I had followed the recipe exactly, rather than following my instincts. Just like making bread dough, after a few forays into ice cream making, you'll instinctively know when the mixture is ready. In the case of ice cream, this is the point at which it will freeze properly - when the milk proteins are going to work with you and coagulate. With the chocolate gelato, it's the moment when the chocolate and milk no longer seem foamy, when it looks like a shiny pool of chocolate satin. There is a thickening that happens when the milk or cream is finally cooked to the point that it is ready.

And by ready, I mean ready to rock your world after a few hours of chilling, then some time in the ice cream maker, and another couple of hours in the freezer. Yes, there is a little bit of waiting between stages, just like making bread dough, but it really is worth it. The initial time invested to get your ice cream going is usually no more than a half hour, if, let's say, you were making strawberry ice cream and needed to pick through, rinse, hull, core, and slice the strawberries, but there are other flavors that aren't as time consuming. And also just like bread baking, you will be incredibly gratified by your from-scratch efforts. In this case, that you made such a scrumptious and creamy dessert accompaniment - for, let's say, apple cake, or apple crumble, or something chocolate - as I am going to share with you the vanilla ice cream recipe that I made earlier this week.

After last week's caramel debacle, I decided that I would take what I've learned from making ice cream and gelato these past few months, and apply it to a vanilla ice cream recipe from the book Ice Creams & Sorbets by Lou Seibert Pappas. I chose to use cream only in this adaptation, while Pappas uses 2 cups of half-and-half or whole milk and one cup of cream. Her book is worth picking up if you intend to make ice cream at home as it can sometimes be difficult to track down ice cream recipes online; I tend to find recipes in which the ice cream is an already existing ingredient, rather than a from-scratch item.

Vanilla Ice Cream, adapted from Ice Creams & Sorbets by Lou Seibert Pappas:

Ingredients:
(1) 4-inch vanilla bean
3 cups heavy cream
4 large egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar

Pour the cream into a medium non-reactive (stainless steel) sauce pan. Slice the vanilla bean lengthwise, scraping out the vanilla seeds from the pod and adding them to the cream. Once you have removed as many of the vanilla seeds as possible from the pod, add the pod to the cream.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks well, then add the sugar and whisk together until the sugar is well blended with the yolks. The egg-and-sugar mixture should be a light yellow once well-blended.

Over medium-low heat while stirring constantly, warm the cream and vanilla seeds and pod until lukewarm, around 90-100 degrees, or until steam begins to rise from the cream. Remove from heat.

Working in small batches, slowly add the hot cream to the egg mixture, stirring continuously, until approximately half of the cream is combined with the egg mixture. The reason why you are doing this is to prevent the eggs from cooking as a result of heating them too quickly which will ruin the custard.

Return the saucepan to medium heat, and slowly pour the egg and cream mixture (the custard) into the pan, stirring continuously.

Continue stirring continuously until the mixture thickens such that it coats the back of a silicone spoon or spatula, approximately 10-12 minutes. At this point, remove the pan from the heat, pour the mixture into a non-reactive bowl (stainless or glass) and chill for 2-3 hours until custard is cold throughout. You may speed this process up by placing the non-reactive bowl into an ice water bath before refrigerating it if you'd like.

Once the custard is completely chilled, remove the vanilla bean pod from the mixture, and freeze it in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's directions. The ice cream maker I use requires that I freeze the ice cream maker bowl for many hours before freezing the ice cream itself. Be sure to check the directions on yours so that you don't find yourself with a warm "freezer" bowl and cold custard. That would be bad.

Once the ice cream is frozen, move it to an airtight container and place in the freezer for 2 hours, or until it is fully set. Yield: about a quart. In the case of this vanilla ice cream, it was more flavorful the second day. I'll let you know tomorrow how it was on the third day, alright?

Dinner tonight: leftover Hearty Pasta Fagioli and salad. Oh, but then we get to have apple cake and 3-day old vanilla ice cream. That's right. Leftovers are not all bad, peeps.

Aveleda Charamba Duoro 2005 and Quinta de Cabriz Dao Colheita Seleccionada 2005

No wine was spit out in the making of this post. I swear. Last Thursday, after having sampled the Ajello Majus Nero d'Avola on Wednesday night, I trekked into Somerville to meet my brother and sister-in-law for a field trip to the Wine and Cheese Cask. As you know, I'm on a mission to find good quality, low cost wines while we weather the economic storm (just because the markets appear to be on an upswing, don't forget, some of the greatest market fluctuations occurred during what we'll just refer to as the "G.D.". I don't want to get too bogged down in financial doom and gloom - this is a wine column, after all.), and Portuguese wines are getting a lot of attention these days for being a good value and having a low price point.

And, oh boy, do they ever have a low price point. The first wine, a 2005 blend from the Duoro called Charamba, which I sampled with my brother and sister-in-law cost $5.99 a bottle. I don't think I've bought a wine for $5.99 a bottle since, oh, I don't know, maybe that time in high school where I bought on the east side of town. Or maybe it was the time in high school that I bought over the border in Rhode Island. Or maybe it was that time in high school where I was about to head into the liquor store, but my mother pulled into the parking lot and parked three cars down because the grocery store was in the same plaza. You get the idea. It's been a long time, and quite possibly not since I've been legal. (Yes, I admit it. I have grown into a wine snob. And worse still, I am a wine snob on a budget.)

The Charamba Vinho Tinto, produced by Aveleda, was a pleasant wine. Yes. Pleasant. My brother, sister-in-law, and I all agreed that its flavor - which was not overtly fruity but was quite tannic - belied its price point, but none of us were particularly overwhelmed with joy by the wine. Add to this that I had been completely overwhelmed with glee by the Majus Nero d'Avola just the night before, and one might think that perhaps it was unfair to put the Charamba in such a tough follow-up spot. However, for $5.99 a bottle, it was perfectly pleasant enough for a slosher, and one that your family probably won't complain about if you're having them all over for a barbecue. Or for cheese, as was the case on this particular evening.

Charamba is produced in the Duoro, which is in the northeast of Portugal bordering on Spain. The Duoro is known for its Port production - mmmmm...Port - and is poised to be the greatest region for red table wine vinification in Portugal. Or so I read. I will keep looking, but in the meantime will recommend this wine as an everyday-type wine with a price that can't be beat.

The second Portuguese wine I sampled was a red blend produced in the mountainous Dao region which is in the north-central area of Portugal. The wine was produced by Quinta de Cabriz and is called Colheita Seleccionada 2005. It is a blend of three varietals: Alfrochiero, which is also known as Pe do Rato, or, rather appetizingly, rat's foot, which has a propensity toward rotting in rich soil; Tinta Roriz, which is the same grape as the Spanish Tempranillo; and Touriga Nacional, which is the most important grape in the Dao for Port production. Does anyone else see a trend with this Port-production thing? Mmmmmm...Port.


JR and I tried this wine with the Hearty Pasta Fagioli, and I found it to be somewhat rustic in its style. That is to say, a bit everyday. It was light, had a thin mouthfeel (mouthfeel being translated as "texture" in the mouth. Or, yeah, the way it feels in your mouth. How's that for a definition?), and reminded me of a lighter-style Chianti. JR tasted prunes and figs, and there was a slight buttery taste as well. We did also taste a bit of strawberry. Oddly, the wine was a bit boozy; it had a sharp bite for being somewhat thin. Maybe you like that. Maybe you don't. Either way, at $7.99, this wine is a no-brainer. As with the Charamba at $5.99, you wouldn't think, "oh, hey, I'm drinking a $7.99 wine" with the Colheita Seleccionada, only you know, if you've tried them both, that you've moved up two dollars in quality with the Colheita Seleccionada. Not bad for two bucks.

Dinner tonight: Rigatoni with chicken and pesto. Estimated cost for two: $3.68. One-half of the 99-cent-per-pound chicken is $2.28, and one-half of a box of rigatoni is $1.40. I made the pesto from the last of the basil in the garden, and it does include pine nuts, olive oil, and pecorino romano, so let's just say that I put $8.00 into making 16 ounces. We'll call it another dollar, then for what I'm going to use in tonight's meal. Pesto isn't meant to coat your teeth when you eat it, you know. So $4.68 for a grand total. And we are going to have the apple cake and vanilla ice cream that I made yesterday. I'm not sure if I can accurately describe the scrumptiousness of that combo. Oh, but I will try. Tomorrow and Saturday, I will try, in fact.

Why can't it just stay warm?

sigh. a summer tomato.

I am clearly not at all ready for "real" fall, as I sit here groaning about how darned cold I am - to no one in particular, I might add - until you read this, that is - and it's still in the 40s. At least I have this soup to keep me warm.

Hearty Pasta Fagioli with Kale:

Ingredients:
2 slices bacon (optional)
olive oil

one small onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, diced

2 teaspoons dried thyme
crushed red pepper

(1) 28 ounce can fire roasted crushed tomatoes
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth, plus additional to thin soup as needed

3 ribs of celery, sliced on the bias into 1/2 inch pieces, then halved
4 large leaves of kale, stems removed, washed well and sliced into 1-inch pieces.

(1) 15 ounce can cannellini beans, with liquid
1 cup small pasta

salt and pepper

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in medium stock pot over medium heat. If using bacon, cook to desired doneness, then remove to a plate lined with paper towels to cool. Add onion and garlic and cook until onion is translucent, about 5 minutes.

Add thyme and crushed red pepper (to taste - you make it as spicy as you want. I'm good with that.) and stir, cook for 1 minute. Add broth and tomatoes, stir to combine.

Add celery and kale, then beans, liquid from the beans, and pasta, and cook over medium heat until pasta is cooked through, about 20-25 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Add additional broth if soup becomes too thick - you will probably need additional broth if you have the soup as leftovers, as the pasta will absorb liquid while it sits. Top with crumbled bacon and grated parmigiano cheese. Viola - you are now warm to the core.

Yield: 6-8 very hearty servings.

Dinner tonight: Either leftover Poultry-herder's pie or Hearty Pasta Fagioli - it's really a toss up now at 3:21 in the afternoon, and, yes, I am freezing, so maybe soup is the way to go. I am, however, going to make vanilla ice cream and an apple cake, so things are not nearly as boring as they might have initially seemed. And the ice cream will NOT make me more cold - don't even think like that, ok?

Nearly instant orange fanciness

Let's face it, chicken is good food, but, boy, could it use some sprucing up from time to time. You know, just to keep it, well, interesting. Two nights ago, which now seems like it may as well have been August given the change in temperature between then and today, JR and I grilled chicken and finished it with an orange-honey glaze. It's a simple thing to make, and elevates the chicken beyond it's 99-cent a pound status. Which, by the way, isn't a bad thing - I'm all for 99-cent a pound chicken, but you know what I mean. You can use this glaze on roasted chicken as well, and can mix it up by changing out the rosemary for thyme, or by substituting grated ginger and Thai basil for either rosemary or thyme.

Orange-honey glaze:

Ingredients:
1 cup orange juice
1/2 cup honey
2 tablespoons orange zest
1 tablespoon chopped rosemary
1/4 cup honey mustard
crushed red pepper
black pepper

In a small saucepan, combine the orange juice and honey and heat over medium heat, stirring frequently, until honey dissolves. Add the honey mustard, orange zest, rosemary, and crushed red pepper to taste. Simmer gently over medium heat until mixture thickens and becomes syrupy, about 10-15 minutes. Add fresh ground black pepper to taste. Yield: enough to generously glaze a whole chicken, plus have enough left to use as a sauce on your plate - maybe it helps the beets out, or perhaps some sauteed kale or roasted carrots would enjoy the pleasure of its company. You decide.

When the chicken comes out of the oven or off of the grill, brush glaze over chicken. If you like burnt chicken skin, you're free to add it to the chicken before you're done cooking the bird, but the sugar in the honey will burn. You have been warned. As you might expect me to say, this would also be good with pork in most of its forms.

Dinner tonight: pasta fagioli with curly kale and sourdough ciabatta crostini. Estimated cost for two: $2.72 for the soup, and 16-cents per slice of bread. So maybe 64 cents in bread, and a grand total of $3.36. The soup costs $10.86 for 8 hearty servings. The tomatoes were $2.00, the broth $2.19, the beans 99-cents, the pasta $1.17 (and you know you can get small pasta for 99-cents as well, don't you? I used orzo because it's what I had on hand and it's a little more expensive than, say stellette or tubetti. I think you should try racchette if you get a chance, though. Is there an Italian love-bordering-on-obsession with tennis of which I was unaware? I mean, I could see making up nonsense Italian pasta-shape names like macchinette (little cars) or bialettiette (little espresso makers) for pasta shapes, but tennis racquets? I had no idea.). Oh, boy, do I digress. The vegetables - onion, celery, kale, and garlic - were $3.50. I think I'll share the recipe tomorrow because, if I do say so myself, it rather effectively demonstrates how satisfying tomato soup and bread can be, and without even a bit of that sinking resignation feeling ("oh, has it really come to this? Tomato soup and bread? Sigh.").

p.s. turns out that macchinette il cafe is Italian for espresso maker. And I just grabbed two things I thought Italians might actually be obsessed with - cars (macchina) and their favorite brand name espresso maker (Bialetti) - to mess around with. Uncanny!

The Jury is In

Oh yes. The jury is in. Definitely not out; in. And the jury thinks that no matter how frightening a concoction sourdough starter is, it is definitely good for you and your homemade bread. I mean, just look at the air bubbles in that sourdough ciabatta up there.

I have to admit, I was reluctant to use the slimy mess in my baking. I mean, the shiznit separates from itself and there's a murky, yellowish liquid that rises to the top of the starter, which even without the benefit of a photograph, you just know is truly nasty to behold. In the interest of being truthful - and also so that you aren't taken by surprise should you choose to make your own sourdough starter - there were also some little darker-yellow-with-white-mold-spore-splotches on top of the yellowish liquid. I mixed vigorously to combine the liquid and its growths prior to using the starter, and I have to say, if it weren't for the fact that I did see said liquid and growths with my own eyes, I wouldn't have thought for a second that the light and chewy loaf I made had any of this badness within. In fact, I'll bet that if (and when) I do more research on sourdough starters, I'll find out that mold - of some sorts - actually adds to the flavor of the bread.

Now, I know that the idea of making bread from scratch can be a bit daunting, but in truth, the actual assembly of ingredients doesn't take long at all. The sourdough starter was put together in about ten minutes, and, aside from the fact that a bowl of funk was on my counter for 4 days, it required nothing more of me than to stir it daily and have faith that it would, in fact, help my bread baking (and not result in death for JR or me). Making the ciabatta dough took about 15 minutes, so for very little time invested, you, too, can have delicious bread at home. In fact, the oatmeal bread also only takes 15 minutes to work into a dough. In any case, you simply need to factor in the rising time, and that usually allows about an hour or two for you to undertake some other project before you have to come back to the bread. Also, there is something very appealing - to me, at least - about kneading dough. I presume that after I make a loaf a week for a good long while, I may not feel the same way, but for now, it's therapeutic to work the dough, and also quite gratifying to know that I actually made a decent loaf of bread. With a good crust, no less!

mmmm - crust

Oh, and speaking of good crust: for country loaves, you'll need either a plant mister or spray bottle, or a shallow pan with about an inch of water in it, for the first portion of the baking, which, in this recipe, was at high heat (425 degrees) for 10 minutes. I didn't have a spray bottle sans poisonous household cleaner on hand, so I brushed the loaves lightly with water, and when I began to pre-heat the oven, I put a shallow dish with water on the bottom rack of the oven while it came up to temperature and in the oven it remained for the 10-minute high-heat cooking time. This replicates steam-baking, which professional bakeries use for that crisp crust and tender interior, and the replication method actually works at home. Fantastic! Now all I need to do is figure out how to feed my starter to keep it alive for next week.

Dinner tonight: Poultry-herder's Pie, which consists of the leftovers from the chicken in cider gravy with corn and peas added to the gravy, and topped with mashed potatoes. Estimated cost for two - or, well for 6 servings: $5.53. Half of the cost of the chicken from the cider gravy meal is $2.27. The gravy and carrots were paid for entirely the other night, so they are off the docket for this meal. The potatoes and butter are $1.82. The corn and peas are $1.50, so the total for this dish - for SIX servings, people - is $5.53. If you wanted to make Poultry-herder's Pie but had chowed all of the chicken in the cider gravy meal, you could always just snag a rotisserie chicken and use that instead because I suspect you would still have gravy left over. Ok, so for two, it's $1.84. That's ridiculous. How can you not make this meal?

Note to you, dear reader: don't even attempt to herd poultry, ok?

A sweet variation

Ahhhh, what a difference a week makes. I returned to the farmers market today, and Marie from Oakdale Farms was working in a short-sleeved shirt. It's sunny, almost seventy degrees, and even the fruits and vegetables looked plumper, shinier, and more appetizing than last week. But then, everything looks better on a sunny day, doesn't it?

The family in front of me in line at the farmers market paid with WIC food vouchers, which I knew was an option in some farmers markets, but didn't think that the one in my town (with only two vendors) would also accept them. Marie said that the farmers have to get certified in order to accept them, and that in Massachusetts, seniors - all seniors - are entitled to thirty-dollar per person food vouchers. In Massachusetts, "senior" is someone over sixty (which, as discussed with my very young-at-heart 60-plus year-old neighbors, needs to be renamed as "senior" does not appeal to them nor does it apply to them.). To sign up for the vouchers, you simply need to go to your local senior center to apply. Marie said that they are distributed every June and expire on October 31, and what a great way to get farm fresh fruits and vegetables to seniors and whatever-the-word-for-over-sixty-but-not-yet-eighty year-olds should be.

Last night, JR and I had chicken in cider gravy with mashed potatoes. This is a variation of a chicken in white wine gravy recipe that I make when I have a half of a bottle of white wine hanging around, but, as you know, I've been drinking Sicilian reds, so I used the cider that is about to ferment in my refrigerator in place of the white wine and added honey mustard. I think this is an improvement on the white wine version of the recipe, and would be fantastic with pork shanks or pork shoulder; it was incredible with the chicken.

Chicken in Cider Gravy:

Equipment:
Dutch oven or deep pan with a large cooking surface and a lid.

Ingredients:
1 whole chicken, pieced into thighs, drumsticks, wings, and breasts. Ask your butcher to do this for you if you aren't comfortable doing it yourself.
Salt
Pepper

olive oil - enough to coat the bottom of the Dutch oven, around 3-4 tablespoons

1/2 medium onion, diced
1 medium carrot, diced
1 stalk celery, diced

2 teaspoons dried thyme
2 tablespoons honey mustard or Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups apple cider
2 cups chicken broth

8 carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal

Salt and pepper chicken pieces.

Heat oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat until oil becomes shiny. Working in small batches, add chicken pieces, skin side down, and brown until skin is crisp. Remove chicken from pan and place on a plate. There should still be enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan. If not, add enough to cover it.

Reduce heat slightly and add onion, diced carrot, and celery. Cook over medium heat until onions are translucent, and carrots and celery are softened, between 10 and 15 minutes.

Add thyme and mustard, and stir to combine. Cook for 1-2 minutes to blend flavors.

Add cider, stirring to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.

Add broth and simmer uncovered for 1-2 minutes to blend flavors.

Add sliced carrots and then the chicken skin side up. The chicken should be in one layer with only the skin above the liquid. Bring back to a simmer, cover, and cook for 1 hour 15 minutes, being careful not to let the liquid come to a boil.

When finished, the chicken should pull apart from the bone with no effort (meaning: no knife, peeps.). Serve with mashed potatoes or mashed sweet potatoes, topping the chicken and potatoes with the gravy and carrots, skimming fat off the top if necessary. Serves 4.

This cider version will most definitely replace the white wine version all autumn long. And, as an added bonus, the chicken in cider gravy alone costs $8.98 for four. I found whole chicken on sale for 99-cents a pound, so this chicken was $4.54. The onion, celery, and carrots were $2.09. The cider was 75-cents, the broth $1.60, and the olive oil, flour, mustard and thyme are negligible, so I left them out of the math. The potatoes were $1.20 (local potatoes are also on sale now), and the butter was 62-cents, so for a grand total of $10.80, you can feed four people. And I would serve this to guests. Be prepared if you're coming over. You will be eating cidery chicken and liking it.

Dinner tonight: there's been a change of plans. It is so nice out, and there are so few of these days left before we get into the New England winter doldrums, that our menu has changed from butternut squash lasagna to grilled chicken with orange-rosemary sauce, braised fennel with pears and raisins, and more mashed potatoes. Estimated cost for two: $8.32. The chicken will be one-half of a whole chicken (on sale for 99-cents. Get thee down to the Whole Foods!) which is $2.21. The potatoes and butter are $1.22. The orange glaze will cost $1.89 because the honey is free (we keep bees) and the rosemary is free (I keep a plant or two around). The fennel is local from Four Town Farm, and cost $1.75, and the pear was about 50-cents.

A little beasty

Tuesday evening, I concocted a little monster. A sourdough starter, consisting of just water, yeast, sugar, and flour be the beast. The lone citizen review I saw on the recipe page for the starter said something about homeschooling and "at least it will be an interesting science project", though she did say she'd only made it that day, and the mixture sits out gurgling and fermenting for two to five days. I think if you post something like that so early in the process, you should be obligated to return and post a status report on the end result. And somehow, that end result post should immediately follow your initial post. Despite this slightly ominous review, I tossed together the ingredients and watched as it bubbled "almost instantly" as promised in the recipe. Since Tuesday, it has lived on my counter, covered by a clean (boy, do I hope that thing was really clean) dishtowel to allow the wild yeasts living in my house to join the fermenting party, and I have to say, I'm a little wee bit afraid of my little yeast creature. For one thing, it developed a crust each day (do you ever think about where terms like "crusty" come from? No? Ok. Just checking.), which I wasn't sure if I should remove (um, and didn't bother to do any research to determine the proper course of action), so I beat it down each day by stirring it until the crust mostly-all-the-way dissolved. After killing off the last of the milk making my latte today, I had enough room in the refrigerator to move it on in, and it certainly had what one would call "a sour smell", which is a requirement for moving it off of the counter and into the refrigerator, so it got one last rather vigorous stir (still trying to dissolve the fragments of crust here), and into the refrigerator it went. I'm making chicken with cider gravy tomorrow night and butternut squash lasagna on Sunday, so sometime over the weekend, I will make a sourdough bread to accompany one of those meals. Oh boy. I hope we don't die.

Dinner tonight: we're going to my friend Debby's for dinner, so I am off the hook, as they say. Debby is getting a loaf of oatmeal bread, a dozen eggs from our chickens, and bottle of that Ajello Majus Nero d'Avola when we arrive. I hope you aren't reading this, Debby. If you are, pretend you're surprised, ok?

Ajello Majus Nero d'Avola: berry on a budget

Back in college, I was a beer drinker. The only thing I knew about wine was that it was an ok substitute for beer every once in a while, and that the box, when used to prop open your apartment window on a winter's night, not only kept the wine nice and cold, but also had the added benefit of letting at least some of the fog of cigarette smoke out, making it somewhat easier to see who came to your party.

I still drink beer from time to time, but wine is my beverage of choice, and as such, I've learned a lot more about it since those college days. For one, I know that wine should not come in a box unless you've bought a case of bottles (hey, and that usually means a 10% discount as well!), that it doesn't have to be expensive to taste good, and cheap doesn't mean it has to come from the supermarket.

In that spirit, I am going to feature a wine varietal (a varietal is the type of grape from which a wine is made) or blend each week that represents not only great value, but great taste. We may revisit varietals as time goes on, but there are so many lesser-known wines available on the market today that we should have a good long run before that happens. I wish that I could sample multiple bottles of each varietal per week, but this gal is on a budget (and can only drink so much wine before becoming incoherent), so I am not about to go spitting out any wine, even if it is inexpensive. In an effort to prevent certain drunkenness or spitting out of perfectly good wine, we'll look at one particular bottle each week, though you can use the information to guide you to other producers of these value wines.

As I've been a bit Sicily-focused this week, this inaugural post is about a fantastic Sicilian red, Nero d'Avola. Nero d'Avola is a native varietal, cultivated throughout Sicily, and is considered to be the mac daddy of Sicilian red grape varietals. It is often compared to Shiraz; is big and bold, and may be aged ("cellared" or held onto for a period of time once purchased), which is quite a concept (at least in my mind) for an eleven or twelve-dollar wine.

With the help of my friend Greg at Gasbarro's Wines in Providence, I selected today's bottle, Ajello (this is the producer's name) Majus Nero d'Avola 2006. The bottle cost $11.99, a great value, particularly considering the weak dollar against the euro.

JR and I had the wine with the potato and leek soup, which was last night's dinner, and it was probably good that we had some bacon garnishing the soup, as this wine would be a perfect match with meat; roast lamb, grilled steak, meat sauce and pasta, or a pungent, flavorful cheese. My first impression of the wine was that it had a leathery aroma with hints of berry or cherry and some earthiness. JR also thought that it had a leathery smell. Once the wine had opened up, the leather aroma grew more intense, to the point where I said, "it smells as though I've walked into a leather store". Leathery-smelling wine, lest you are curious, is, in my opinion, a good thing. My first taste of the wine tasted of black cherry, and lots of it. This only intensified as the wine opened up. JR tasted blackberry and black cherry - it's often difficult to articulate what one tastes in wine, and everyone will have slightly different impressions, but the most important thing is whether or not, on a visceral level, you like the wine. And we did like the wine. Boy, did we ever like the wine. It also had a pleasant bite in the finish, though the wine was very smooth and not at all tannic or imbalanced, as many young high-alcohol content wines can be. Coming in at 14% alcohol, I should maybe not have had quite as much as I did, but this wine was scrumptious, and you know I am opposed to spitting. On financial grounds.

Salvatore Ajello is a third-generation winemaker, working the vineyards that his grandfather first planted. From what I learned on the distributor's website, he seems to have a high regard for nature's role in creating great wines and sees the winemaker as a steward of what the harvest provides. Though the winery only recently began bottling their own production (prior to this, they sold their grapes for use by other wineries), they have garnered recognition and awards, including due bicchiere (two glasses) of a possible three from Gambero Rosso, the guide to, and authority on, Italian wines. The 2005 Gambero Rosso guide describes Ajello's Majus Nero d'Avola 2002 as an "elegant, highly drinkable wine" with "strawberry" aromas. Ok, strawberry. JR and I were at least within the berry family, and maybe things have changed between the 2002 and 2006 vintages. In any case, Gambero Rosso, JR, and I agree. This wine is a great value. And a great value that will have you smiling all the way to the bottom of the berry-scented, berry-flavored bottle.

Dinner tonight: leftover macaroni and cheese with a garden salad and a thimble-full of Ajello Majus Nero D'Avola 2006. Whoopsie. Estimated cost for two (excluding the thimble each of wine): $6.40. The mac and cheese per two servings is $6.10, and the lettuce from the garden is how much? Yes. Thirty cents. A note on the potato and leek soup from last night: it is very filling and is a very generous 4 portions, so per two servings, the soup alone costs around $2.36. Even if you purchased leeks, instead of grabbing them in the rain from the garden, you should be under four dollars for two people. And you will be full, let me tell you.

A hot drink on a cold, rainy day

Today is rainy, dreary, and cold here in southeastern New England, and I'm feeling pretty lazy, darn it. Before I head out to the garden to freeze - and to dig up the leeks for tonight's potato leek soup - I thought I'd share an old story about a warm beverage.

I drink espresso. I really like espresso, but I really don't like mornings, so oftentimes, I have to buy a coffee on the way into work because I am unable to get up in time to make espresso and froth milk before it's time to leave. And if you work with me, you know I'm frequently late, so you're probably thinking, "what exactly are you doing in the morning?" I don't know either. But I am not making espresso at home.

One day, I saw a miraculous creation in one of the many food-related catalogs I receive - a stove-top cappuccino maker. It looked glorious. I asked my family for it for Christmas. Then, when I didn't receive it, I asked for it again, at my birthday, which is in September. Then, when I didn't receive it for my birthday, I asked for it again, for Christmas. Third time's a charm, as they say, and my dad pulled through for me. Imagine my glee on Christmas morning (ok, it was like a week after Christmas because my dad is also always late. Ahhh, genetics.) when I tore back the gift wrap to reveal my shiny new stainless steel money-saving gourmet coffee-making toy. Such joy for a 36-year old.

The cappuccino maker came with an instructional dvd, which I promptly tossed into some pile of magazines with nary a thought. About a week later, I got up early, especially to make the coffee. I read the instructions (they also provided some on paper), and found, to my chagrin, that I had to brew three pots of coffee before I could brew the one I would drink. It was 6:30, I was already dressed; I figured 3 pots of coffee would take about a half hour, and I'd still be leaving for work by 7:15.

I brewed the first pot. When the coffee was ready, it made a very satisfying gurgling noise announcing that it was ready to drink. Or not, in this case. I poured the coffee out, and then tried to unscrew the top, where the coffee and milk combine to make cappuccino, from the bottom, where the water is stored. Funny, but I couldn't for the life of me unscrew the top. I began pushing the top of the coffee maker against a door jamb while trying to move the bottom in the opposite direction, repeating, silently at first, and then much more loudly as time wore on, "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey". This went on for about five minutes, and still the top would not budge. Then, when I had given up hope, the coffee maker made a hissing noise, and suddenly I could unscrew the top from the bottom. Fantastic.

I made the second pot. The coffee maker made the same lovely noise of done-ness, and I poured the cappuccino out. Without incident, I was unable to unscrew the top from the bottom. I made the third pot of coffee, but this time, the unscrewing was more impossible than the first time. I worked to disconnect the top from the bottom for about 20 minutes. Oh, so frustrating. Suddenly, there was the hissing noise again, and I was able to unscrew the pot and make the actual pot of coffee that I would take on the road with me.

I was in the living room, which is open to the kitchen, putting wood in the wood stove when the immensely satisfying "done" noise emanated from the kitchen. I looked up, firewood in hand, and saw a high-pressure stream of espresso shooting up and creating a fountain-like effect on the white kitchen ceiling. I dropped the wood and ran to the kitchen, slamming the lid of the coffee maker shut, and then looked at the words on the valve in the center of the lid: press down. After I washed the ceiling clean and dumped what was left of the coffee down the drain, I saw the words on the bottom of the pot: to lock. Holy smokes - no wonder this pig came with an instructional dvd!

I called JR on my way to work and said, "Do you happen to know the color we used to paint the kitchen ceiling?" He said, "no, why?" I finished explaining why to him as I pulled into the Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru, already late for work.

Dinner tonight: potato leek soup with creme fraiche, bacon, and baked potato "chips", garden salad, and oatmeal bread. I made more oatmeal bread today. That shiznit is good. Oh, right, back to the point of this - estimated cost for two: $7.24. The butter is around 20 cents, the leeks are from the garden, and I am calling them "free", the potatoes are from the neighbors farm stand and cost $1.50, the broth is $3.19, creme fraiche and bacon are $1.10, and the garden lettuce is 30 cents (but you knew that already!).

For the love of agrodolce

it might not be as sexy as apple crumble or cookies, but it is Sicilian, so look out!

I read somewhere, a while back, that Americans don't love sweet and sour foods. In fact, I believe the wording was a bit more harsh, something along the lines of "Americans find sweet and sour foods unappealing". This was particularly distressful to me because I had not only predicted the imminent rise in popularity on the American food scene of Sicilian cuisine, which is frequently sweet and sour, but it was also disheartening because I had already selected the name for my restaurant that would capitalize on this certain trend, Agrodolce. Don't take it. It's mine. I'll know if you open a restaurant with that name that you stole it from me. And I'm sure there are no other Agrodolce restaurants anywhere, by the way. Agrodolce is Italian, from "agro", meaning sour, bitter, or vinegary, and "dolce" meaning sweet, and I'm not sure what the problem is with the rest of you Americans (presuming only Americans are reading - apologies if you're a sweet-and-sour-loving non-American), but sweet and sour is damned good. Take for instance the sweet and sour butternut squash we had with our leftover short ribs and leftover polenta last night. Who loves leftovers? Who? That's right. No one. Oh, but JR and I loved our leftovers. And why? Because of the sweet and tangy butternut squash. You have all of the ingredients you need to make it in your pantry, so no excuses. Get yourself a butternut squash and whip up a batch of this tart, cinnamon-y goodness tonight. Or at least this weekend.

Adapted from Clarissa Hyman's Cucina Siciliana, which has all manner of other wonderful recipes chock full of unexpected flavors; lemon meatballs, pancetta and peas with mint, pistachio crusted lamb chops (ok, so pistachio + lamb chops does not = cheap, but even if your investments are tanking and you won't retire until you're 95 - which is to say "dead" - you may want to splurge once in a while, right? I'd say yes. Especially in that case.):

Sweet and Sour Butternut Squash:

One 3-pound butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and sliced into 1/2 inch thick slices
4 tablespoons olive oil
4 garlic cloves, peeled
4 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons mint leaves, roughly chopped
salt
crushed red pepper

A confession before moving on. I had no mint. I do, however, have a small forest of wild oregano growing in parts of my garden that I am unable to regain control over, so I used oregano. Mint is better, but oregano will do.

Heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the garlic cloves. Working in batches, cook the sliced butternut until it is well browned on the edges, turning frequently. Remove the butternut from the pan and place into a serving bowl or platter. Discard the garlic.

Reduce heat slightly to avoid splattering as you add the ingredients for the sauce. Slowly add the vinegar to the pan. Then, sprinkle the sugar into the pan, along with the cinnamon. Add mint. Salt to taste, and add crushed red pepper to taste. Cook over medium heat for 1-2 minutes to combine the flavors, then pour over the butternut squash. Serves 4.

Hyman instructs that you leave the squash to cool to room temperature, then refrigerate for a few hours. I think you can eat this shortly after it's made, so approaching room temperature or at room temperature, and then enjoy the leftovers cold another time. This dish would be great with pork, roasted chicken, beef short ribs (of course), or, if your family is agrodolce-inclined, as a side at Thanksgiving.

Dinner tonight: Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Family-style macaroni and cheese with a salad of garden romaine, and sauteed Oakdale Farms mini-eggplant. Estimated cost for two: $7.10. The cheese is the most expensive item. I used leftover cheese from the trip to Vermont, being sure that I had 20 ounces, though it was not in the proportion of cheddar to Gruyere that is called for in the recipe. No problem. Just be sure that you get a sharp cheese, like a Grafton 4-year aged cheddar so that you have a good cheesy flavor. It's not worth the effort to make it from scratch if it doesn't taste better than the blue box variety. So the cheese was about $12.00, the pasta was $2.79 (and yes, you can get a box of elbow mac for less, I agree), milk and butter were 2.01, flour was about 10 cents, breadcrumbs around 50 cents, and I have the very last of my garden tomatoes to top the dish, so the total for 6-8 servings is $17.40. The romaine is from the garden, so thirty cents (because that's what it cost in the flat of plants per plant), and the eggplant was around a dollar.

Hello, my name is Amy, and I have a problem

For all of you who know me well, please stop speculating as to which problem from all the possible problems on your mental list I could have finally become aware that I need to seek help to overcome. I do have a problem, and the demon's name is apple crumble. Really, the demon comes in the form of any type of baked fruit with streusel on top, but as apples are in season, the demon is apple crumble.

I haven't made a fruit crumble even once this year; an attempt to avoid the temptress, it seems, but now that I've had the crunchy, crumbly, cinnamon-y goodness once more, I recognize that this is a deep-rooted problem. And one which I would like to share with you. Oh, but you've already shared, you say? No, no, mes amis. I want to share the recipe for the fiendishly good apple crumble I made yesterday.

Apple Crumble with Dried Cranberries:

Apple Filling:
3 pounds apples, peeled, cored, and sliced into 1/4 inch pieces
3/4 cup dried cranberries
1 cup sugar
3 1/2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Streusel Topping:
1 1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup sugar (for a very molasses-y effect, use turbinado sugar, aka "raw" sugar)
6 tablespoons brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
(optional: 1/3 cup diced crystallized ginger)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a pie pan.

Combine apples, cranberries, sugar, flour, cinnamon, salt, and lemon juice in a large bowl, allowing about a half-hour for the apples to macerate while you make the streusel topping.

Combine all of the dry streusel topping ingredients and mix well. Add the melted butter and vanilla extract, mixing until all a moist crumb is formed.

Transfer apple mixture to the pie pan, mounding the apples so that they are highest in the middle of the pan. Top with the crumb mixture, covering all apples.

Bake on the middle rack of the oven for approximately 1 hour, or until the streusel is a golden brown and the apple mixture is bubbling. If the top is browning too quickly and there is no bubbling to be seen, cover loosely with foil until done. Let cool for 15 minutes and then serve - preferably with that maple walnut ice cream I made the other day. Or with whipped cream. Or vanilla ice cream.

As it turns out, the maple walnut ice cream yields 1 and a half quarts, which should be twelve 1/2 cup servings of ice cream. Now, I wish I could say that we really do eat only the recommended portion size, but I don't want to have to join a self-help group for lying in addition to the one I have to join for fruit crumble addiction, so I confess that we got about 8 servings out of that batch. Which, at $9.75 to make the ice cream, works out better than I had expected; around $1.22 per serving. And to this point in my ice cream making experience, that recipe has the best creamy texture of any I've made. I'm going to try to modify it and keep the texture, so I'll let you know what other flavors come from that - if they are successful.

Dinner tonight: leftover braised short ribs with leftover polenta (made into triangles and fried), and sweet and sour butternut squash from a recipe in the fabulous cookbook, Cucina Siciliana. Estimated cost for two: $8.08. The short ribs are $6.83, the polenta was charged to dinner before the weekend, but for kicks, I'll call it a dollar, and the butternut was - ready? - twenty-five cents. For three pounds. YAY twenty-five cent butternut!

We seek a beefy meal and some cookies

JR and I are just back from our maiden voyage to our local farmers market. By local I mean the one that happens in our town, as there are quite a few markets that could be considered local to us, and I will be exploring those throughout the year, and even into the winter, about which I am very excited - I can't wait to see what local produce can be bought during winter. However, this is the second to last weekend for this particular market, and, as it is October in New England, there is a blustery, mean wind blowing, hence, only one of the two farmers who participate in the market posted this morning, and I'm not sure she didn't regret putting out the "farmers market today" signs, either. Between chattering teeth and some snugging up of our scarves (oh, and I thought mine was a fashion statement before I arrived at the market, thank you very much), I managed to snag some Oakdale Farms potatoes, a lone Spanish onion, and about a dozen Oakdale Farms miniature eggplants, which are going to be sauteed in oil to go with the macaroni and cheese I'm making later this week. We have to have a vegetable with our mounds of pasta and cheese, you know, even if said vegetable will be doused in oil. Even as the lone vendor on this inhospitable day, Oakdale Farms put on an impressive presentation. She had curly kale, regular kale, Swiss chard, tomatillos (!), tomatoes, the last of the season's corn, and a large assortment of winter squash in addition to honey and preserves and some potted herbs. JR isn't convinced that there will be a farmers market here in town next week if the weather continues in this raw pattern, but I will be back to find out and will let you know if I see more tomatillos.

We then headed to the much warmer and far less breezy Whole Foods with our five-dollar-off-a-25-dollar-purchase coupons, on a mission to divide and save. JR was responsible for stocking up on olive oil and balsamic vinegar (hey, if I can get 20% off of olive oil and balsamic, I am all over it), while I tracked down the ingredients for tonight's beefy meal. As previously mentioned, we're having mac and cheese later this week (made from scratch, however, and not as depressing as that sad refried bean meal we had a week or so ago), so I figured we could go crazy and slow cook some beef today, and thus we will be having braised short ribs tonight. In all of this belt-tightening, I have started baking items for our lunches so this morning I made Oatmeal Cookies with dried cranberries and crystallized ginger, and so far I've had only cookies and my coffee to eat today. This can't be a good thing considering that it's almost 3:30 in the afternoon, but I thought if I was that addicted to them, you might be as well, so here is the recipe:

Oatmeal Cookies with Dried Cranberries and Crystallized Ginger:

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
2 large eggs
2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

1 cup dried cranberries (such as Ocean Spray Craisins)
1/3 cup diced crystallized ginger
3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease baking sheets.

Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a bowl and stir to combine well.

Mix the softened butter and the sugars on medium speed until the butter is creamed and the sugars and butter are well combined. Add the eggs and vanilla and mix until well-blended.

Stir in the oatmeal, dried cranberries, and crystallized ginger. Using an ice-cream scoop, scoop dough and place onto the greased baking sheets. Space mounds of dough approximately 2 inches apart, and bake one baking sheet at a time on a rack placed in the middle of the oven for 8-10 minutes, or until cookies are lightly browned, turning once midway through cooking. Let cookies cool on a rack. Cookies will keep for 4-5 days stored in an airtight container.

This recipe makes about 40 cookies, so I made 24 cookies (5 of which are gone - egads), and wrapped the remaining dough in waxed paper after rolling the dough into a log shape. It can then be frozen or refrigerated for future use. In either case, allow the dough to come up to room temperature before baking.

Dinner tonight: Braised Beef Short Ribs with carrots and creme fraiche mashed potatoes. Estimated cost for two: $14.80. We bought just over three pounds of short ribs, and they were $13.67 after the discount. We will have leftovers again tomorrow night, so that cost is divided in half. The potatoes, carrots, celery, and onion total $4.69, and the butter, creme fraiche, and olives called for in the short ribs recipe total $3.28. We are also having an apple crumble made with not-so-perfect apples from the neighbor's farm stand. The bag I bought weighed more than the five pounds the scale I have in my kitchen goes up to (and I was too lazy to pull out apples to divide them into portions that could be weighed) and the bag cost $2.50. Add a little flour, corn starch, lemon juice, sugar, cinnamon, and butter, and I think I've got an apple crumble for under three bucks. (if you're confused, I'm not going to be using all 5-plus pounds of apples in this apple crumble.)

I'll take mine unbleached and unbromated, thank you.

My bread-baking adventures are being conducted in a rather willy-nilly fashion, I have to say. I do want to learn more - much more - about baking yeast breads, but I'm starting to think that there will be nothing resembling logic in my approach. I bought some bread flour because I want to make a sponge starter, and Joy of Cooking calls for bread flour for this endeavor. Conveniently, bread flour was on sale for $3.99 per 5-pound bag at my last market visit. I could have instead gone to the discount grocery store for the 99-cent 5-pound bag of flour, which would be the truly parsimonious thing to do, but I really want to avoid bleach and bromate (which, according to Wikipedia, is a known carcinogen and is banned in most of the world, but not here in the US. Perplexing and more.) in my baking, so I kicked in the extra three dollars. Not only that, but I bought a second bag of bread flour. Cripers, I'm dedicated. I'm making a yeast bread a week, here, people. And I need to stock up on unbleached, unbromated goodness while I can.

So my bag of flour sat on my kitchen counter awaiting some use, ideally a few cups for a sponge starter, as that seemed like the next logical step after having made two quick-start breads and harboring a desire for more complex flavor. But then my bag of flour spoke to me. It said, "This tender, high-rising bread makes wonderful sandwiches and great toast." It really said this. On the back of the bag. And below this claim of sandwiches from on high, and sublime toast (and yes, I am prone to using superlatives for bread at the least prodding), was a recipe for Oatmeal Bread. Now, I searched the King Arthur's Flour website for this exact recipe to spare you my adaptation of it, but it was not to be. But let me tell you, my random pursuit of bread-baking happiness will require many visits to their site. And my pursuit is random because of their site. You have got to see all of the recipes they have for bread; pan de mie, crescia al formaggio, Ukranian wedding bread - these people - well, right, they are flour people - but still, there's a lot of bread to be baked, and from what I can tell, it's all there on their site. Except for this particular recipe that is printed on the back of the bag. Which is why I now am sitting at my computer with an open bag of bread flour in front of me so that I may share with you.



Adapted from King Arthur's Flour - unbleached, unbromated - bread flour packaging:

Oatmeal Bread

Ingredients:
3 cups bread flour
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3 tablespoons honey or brown sugar
1 packet active dry yeast
1 1/4 cups whole milk
3/4 cups raisins

1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon milk
additional oatmeal for dusting the top of the loaf

Warm the milk to lukewarm (105 to 115-degrees). Place in non-reactive bowl (I used a stainless mixing bowl) and sprinkle contents of yeast packet on top of milk. Allow yeast to dissolve, approximately 5 minutes.

Combine flour and salt in a bowl, mixing well. Once yeast has dissolved, add flour mixture, oatmeal, raisins, butter, honey (or brown sugar), and raisins to the yeast mixture, and mix on medium speed until a shaggy dough is formed. Knead dough either in the mixer for about 5 minutes, or by hand for about 10, adding flour as necessary if the dough is too sticky. I normally do the initial mix in the mixer and then knead by hand. It's therapeutic. Try it. In either case, you will be chasing raisins that have escaped and tucking them back into the dough. When dough is smooth, place it in a lightly buttered bowl that will accommodate its rising and nearly doubling in size. Cover with a buttered piece of plastic wrap or a damp kitchen towel and allow to rise in a warm spot for 1 hour.

Transfer the dough to a lightly greased surface. I used waxed paper with a little bit of butter rubbed over the surface. Shape the dough into a log, tucking one-third of the dough into the middle before tucking the other third over (as though you were folding a business letter), and tuck the ends under to fit the loaf pan. Place the dough in a lightly buttered 9x5-inch loaf pan, cover with the greased plastic wrap, and allow to rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until the dough has risen 1 to 2 inches over the sides of the pan.

Preheat the oven to 350. Mix the egg yolk and milk together to make a glaze. Brush over the top of the bread (you won't need to use all of it to cover the top). You're doing this in order to create a nicely browned top for the bread. Sprinkle oatmeal over the top. Bake the bread for 35-45 minutes until the bread is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped, or until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the middle reads 190 degrees.

Makes 1 large, heavenly loaf with a fine crumb that tastes like you should go into baking professionally.

Dinner tonight: Cider braised pork shoulder with caramelized onions, mashed potatoes from the neighbor's farm stand, and collard greens, also from a neighbor's farm stand - different neighbor, however. Pork shoulder was on sale at my local Whole Foods this week, and mad props to Lisa for sending me their five-dollars-off-a-purchase-of-25-dollars coupon because JR is thrilled to not have to eat chicken or butternut squash for once this season. Estimated cost for two: $10.90. The pork is at least 7 servings, so JR will also be blissed out for most of next week with pork sandwiches on - wait for it - yes, oatmeal bread - for lunch. If I were to take out the overall cost of the pork and use some fancy accrual or depreciation accounting method (yeah, I have no idea what I'm talking about either), the actual cost of tonight's meal is really $6.90, and those other five servings of pork will cost $4.00. Sweet! I like fancy accounting methods.

A Market with a View

the view from the Dorset Farmers Market parking lot

When we go to Vermont, JR and I have a route through Dorset and up over Danby Mountain Road that we like to drive - the views on Danby Mountain Road are sweeping, with mountains continuing off into the distance until they're a smoky blue in contrast to the flaming fall color on the mountains immediately surrounding us. We arrived just a little past peak foliage, but the rainy summer helped to salvage some of the color giving the leaves a bit more moisture to hang onto their trees, and any naked trees blended into the cover of the pines scattered throughout.

Just about a mile before our turn off of Route 30 up over the mountain, we came upon a sign:


As is his custom, JR kept driving, although, as is my custom, I had spun my head about so quickly as to cause myself mild vertigo while saying in my loud voice, "Oh, look at that! Farmers Market," and then, as we continued driving by at our normal speed, in my lower, sad voice, "honey, did you see the farmers market?". This is when he, keeping with his custom, said, with a hint of surprise, "did you want to stop?". Yes, in fact, I did. And, in this case, I won. It may not be nice to couch this small event in terms of winners and losers; in fact, JR no more lost than I did, but I don't always emerge victorious from these unplanned stop requests. I find that though the stopping happens around half of the time (perhaps due to the degree of malaise in my sad voice), JR usually regrets not having stopped, which could be why it was so easy to convince him of the merit in this case. I did mention that I saw cheese, which may have been a factor. One can never be certain.


Not only did we see cheese, we saw award-winning goat's milk cheese from Consider Bardwell Farm. We also saw produce in the whole range of colors as those in the trees surrounding the market, as well as lamb, grass-fed beef, pottery, paintings, wind chimes made of old silver spoons hammered flat and creating the most soothing sound in the light breeze, bakers, and winemakers. We first tried a sample of Putney Mountain Winery's fruit wines (mentioned in Monday's post, and which JR and I will taste and give a more comprehensive report on prior to Thanksgiving), and, um, yes, this was before we had our morning coffee - is that bad? Wait. No. Don't answer that. Let's move on.

Right next to Putney Mountain Winery's booth was Naga Bakery, identifiable only by the newspaper article attached to the front of the tent. The woman behind the table offered us a taste of their salt stick (a rye bread stick), which was excellent, and we proceeded to order a pear and cheese loaf and a garden tomato and garlic loaf, which she carefully wrapped in a to-go bag while filling us in on the location of the good coffee (new to the H.N. Williams General Store on whose property the market is held. The owner's son went to UVM and returned with a business degree and an idea that if people could get a decent cup of coffee there, they might also mill about and purchase some of the Carhartt clothing or garden tools also on offer. From what I could tell in my observations, this theory seems to be working.). JR and I stopped to buy two cheeses from Consider Bardwell Farm; their aged goat cheese with a rich, nutty taste called Manchester and their new, as yet unofficially named cow and goat's milk cheese with a wonderful creaminess and barnyardy rind (and I do love a barnyardy rind, let me tell you) temporarily called Quarry.

Naga Bakery's display

We got our coffee inside H.N. Williams' store, and pranced off to the car. Yes, pranced. We pranced because we were filled with food finding glee. Little did we know, that glee was about to grow exponentially.

JR thought it would be a good idea to try the pear and cheese bread with our coffees. I thought it might be an odd combination, being that the bread would be savory, but hey, I had won the pulling-over-and-attending-the-market battle, why not give in on this occasion? Wow. And what a good idea that was. The bread had some sugar on top as well as the pear and cheese, and was a perfect melding of salty, sweet, and mildly fruity.

oh, glorious pear-cheese bread, how do I love you?

I had no choice. I had to go back. I marched straight over to Naga Bakery's stand, nearly taking down a few of the people in line for the Samosa Man's delights (note to self: next time try whatever varieties of samosa Samosa Man is offering), nervously eyeballing the last two pear-cheese breads while the woman in front of me slowly mulled over her choices, sometimes getting entirely too close to my pear-cheese bread. Finally. She left. My turn. I had been reading the newspaper article tacked to the tent as I waited and told Julie (the woman who had previously clued us in about the coffee, and who is also the co-owner of the bakery, I learned from the photo in the article) that we had to have another pear-cheese bread. While I was ordering, another woman approached and asked for their lavash bread. "None today," Julie said, in keeping with what she told me was Naga's "consistent inconsistency". They source their ingredients at farmers markets themselves, and the day before, pears, cheese, and tomatoes had all been available, so that's what they used for today's bread. Julie also said that they use local wheat and rye flours, and while they can't always use local ingredients, they do their best to keep the cycle going locally; supporting farmers and taking it easy on the environment. The lavash-seeking woman seemed to not want to give up hope, "It's to die for," she said, while making a large jungle cat-like clawing motion at my face and simultaneously looking at the breads on the table. I was nervous about the possibility of being clawed, but then she explained, "it's got herbs, and seeds, and salt, and sugar," and though I didn't hear much beyond that, I understood just what she meant. To die for.

Naga Bakery is based in Middletown Springs, Vermont, and sells only at farmers markets and local food co-ops in their area. Seek them out if you're visiting, I implore you.

Dinner tonight: more roasted chicken, this time with roasted beets, gorgonzola dolce, toasted walnuts (honey drizzled over the beets, gorgonzola, and walnuts), and polenta cooked in chicken broth. Estimated cost for two: $10.65 - again, the chicken will provide left overs to make lunch for both of us (chicken salad with apples and raisins). I did go crazy today and make Oatmeal Raisin Bread (estimated cost for the loaf: $2.75) as well as Maple Walnut Ice Cream (estimated cost for 1.5 quarts: $9.65 - not as bargain-y as Cheapo Gal here would hope, but it's going to be scrumptious).